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A Sticky Incident

July 18, 2008


I have been cooking like the culinary champion that I am. It has been hard work, but I am not afraid to toil for my art. Because that is what cooking is, underneath all the steam, burnt fingers, and cursing. It is Art. And I am the Artist.

The pasta has been boiled to the requisite mushiness. The mince has been browned (well, somewhat. A bit of red has never killed anyone. Anyway, I’m too hungry to wait any longer). All that’s left to do is pour a jar of pasta sauce into the pan and heat it up.

But I cannot unscrew the lid! I try and try but the lid refuses to budge. I put a teatowel over it for a better purchase. I grip the jar between my thighs and attack the lid with both hands. I twist until it seems that either the lid or my wrist must give way. My wrist loses and suffers a mild sprain to add to the indignity. Meanwhile the sauce stubbornly remains in the jar, blasphemously refusing to fulfil its purpose on Earth.

This is when males typically come in handy. When a large bug rears its ugly head or when a situation such as this arises. But Badger is not around to lend his muscles. It looks like I will have to grab someone from off the street.

I wait at the open door with jar in hand, ready to chase the first strong-looking passerby down. But in less than three minutes, it starts bucketing down. Then a howling gale starts up. It is highly unlikely that anyone will come to my rescue now.

At this point, some would throw in the towel and opt instead to just starve for the remainder of the day. But I refuse to back down. If I let the pasta sauce win, who knows what might get stuck next – the mustard, the honey, the little disposable fish-shaped bottles of sushi soy sauce? No, no. You have to nip this sort of thing straight in the bud.

And then I remember my science lessons from primary school. Or rather, the heat experiments we conducted where we made things expand. I fill a bowl with hot water then dip the troublesome jar into it, lid first. Then I wrap a tea towel round it and try again. The lid twists smoothly off with a loud pop!.

Hooray! I want to perform a victory dance! The pasta has congealed and the meat is stone cold, but I have triumphed! I truly am a wonder in the kitchen!

I gorge on self-satisfaction.

2 Comments leave one →
  1. July 19, 2008 10:17 am

    you type pretty well for someone with no fingers..

    (you’re a zebra, get it? hahaha)
    but no really, that was a well written post

    i remember using the hot water trick once my whole life.. back when i was a kid..
    then i grew stronger

  2. Chubby Zebra permalink
    July 20, 2008 1:01 pm

    Haha, it’s a slow and laborious process alright. Typing with my tongue. Thanks for the compliment! Drawing’s out of the question for me tho!

    Lol, well for those of us who don’t have your guns, hot water will have to suffice!

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