Micro-fiction based on real events.
Lunch today was pot-luck. Pot luck is when everyone brings something and we share. Sometimes pot-lucks are coordinated where everyone brings a part of a larger meal. Like a taco pot luck where someone brings tomatoes, another brings lettuce and so on and so forth. Sometimes it is completely unplanned and open to whatever. Today’s pot-luck was the chaotic, unplanned variety. I made what was in the fridge.
Bacon. I love bacon. I bought a 4lb block of chunky-cut, hickory-smoked bacon earlier this week. I cut the block into half pound portions and froze it. For the pot-luck, I used two of these.
Shrimp. I already had a half package of two-hundred count shrimp. I don’t eat shrimp that often, but every blue moon I want some with a salad or to just boil up in some rice.
Mushrooms. This week, I really felt the need for salad and have been eating rabbit food most of the time and also why there is still some bacon in the fridge. I bought a two pound package of sliced mini-portabella mushrooms Monday and still had half of the package last night. These mushrooms were nice, firm, smelled earthy and were very flavorful.
Marinara sauce. I had a half jar of Wal-Mart brand marinara sauce in the fridge. It had been there for months and since there wasn’t any mold growing on it, I decided it was okay to eat.
Whole grain rice. I have one hundred and fifty pounds of mixed whole-grain rice. Mostly Korean hyun-mi sal, but also different American long grains, rolled barley and pearled oats. I only cooked two cups of rice.
I also have a handy-dandy rice-cooker and a crock-pot. In the crock-pot, I loaded in everything except the rice and set it for low. I didn’t add salt or pepper because bacon and canned marinara sauce has enough to for several meals. The rice I cooked in the rice pot. Because I did not want problems with my roommates, I cooked everything in my bathroom. The crock-pot was percolating since ten last night and the entire house smelled of yummy, cooked bacon this morning. I had cats at various times trying to get in or yowling at the door. Since the roommate I’m fighting with owns the cats, I did not let them in to share. Who knows how he would misconstrue me feeding them fatty bacon and not from the can shrimp. This morning when I woke, I mixed in the cooked rice.
At lunch, one of the women asked, “Did you just throw a bunch of junk from your fridge in your crock-pot to bring?” There were some really elaborate meals there and some great desserts. The guys who work there though brought store bought stuff. Cookies. Chips. Dip. Soda-pop. “Yes,” I said. “I sure did.” “You are such a bachelor!” she said as she passed my still burbling crock-pot by. None of the women would touch it, but the men ate it all up.