Overeating or indulging in the extravagant? Hmm... I know what I believe and practice. You decide what you put into your body dolls and kens. Does it have to be such a dirty mess. Or maybe it doesn't?
Here's a very old story about savoring the most unique cuisine that happens to be quite extravagant. Dinner parties are interesting things... Aren't they? Do you raid the fridge for food at night?
Kisses, m.
Dinner for six (Six for dinner)
(9-1-2009)
Making quick of this tedious work in the kitchen. Slicing carrots. Watching for the pot to come to a boil. Waiting on the oven timer to sound. People should begin to arrive shortly. Dinner is nearly finished. Doorbell. Charlotte and Randall. It should be no surprise as they usually arrive earlier than everyone else, even to an informal dinner. Charlotte gushes as she hangs her shawl, “Smells delicious! What are you making?” I wave my hand to give a sign that it’s a secret. Randall winks. He knows that I never reveal what I’ve made for dinner until after everyone has tasted it. My past entrees have included such things as Rattlesnake, Water Beetles and a very rare mushroom that could be mildly poisonous if prepared incorrectly, among other inauspicious foods that one wouldn’t willingly consume ordinarily. The chef never reveals the secret behind the meal.
The table is set for six. However there are still only five of us here. Patrick and Olivia have recently joined us in the front room as we wait for our final friend to arrive. Christian, as his usual form is running late. Olivia is very impatient and pacing. She handles her glass of red wine with the grace of a raging brute. It becomes certain, that as she’s talking and tossing the glass in the air with her wild hand movements, the liquid will spill out onto the floor. “Randall!,” screeches Olivia as she shakes the wine glass directly in his face, liquid nearly making contact with his clothing, “You talked to Chris last. Where is he?” Randall reaches up and braces Olivia’s glass then slowly removes it from her grasp. She stands there stunned. Still upset, she pulls out a cigarette and lights it. I’m not amused. There’s no smoking in my house. Charlotte looks at me and shakes her head. I nod. Dinner Time.
Everyone settles in at the table as dinner begins. The topic of conversation remains focused upon our missing friend.
Charlotte: “It’s just like Christian to do this. How are any of you surprised he didn’t show? By the way, this plate is majestic! Oh and... Anna, what is this meat? It has the most peculiar texture and its just heaven to taste.
Randall: “Charlotte, how can you be so callous? By the way, pass the wine. Christian isn’t always bailing. Sometimes there are legitimate reasons for his absences. Well, he does owe me some money, but that really shouldn’t have kept him away tonight. This is some form of a blood pudding isn’t it? Anna, you shouldn’t have gone through all the trouble to prepare this.”
Patrick: “Where is Christian? What possible excuse could he have this week? He’s always come by dinner in some form or another. It’s more than half past the hour and still a no-show. Anna, you really outdid yourself on this meal. You must share. It’s some form of primate, isn’t it? That would be a first. Am I right?
As my dinner guests ramble on, I grin, sip my wine and nod. Promising only to share once each of them had cleared a plate. They agreed.
Olivia: “I disagree! Charlotte, this happens to be the vilest thing Anna has ever prepared and I refuse to eat another bite. We should be calling Christian, not sitting at dinner like everything is ok. Anna did he call before we came? ”
I shake my head no and continue to sip my wine. I wouldn’t be lying at all, he didn’t call. After all, a little longer and they will give up on Christian coming tonight. My conscious was almost in the clear. Not that it really matters… Charlotte stops eating suddenly and pauses. She removes a long hair from her fork. “Anna, you seemed to have lost a hair in the dish.” Oh! Hopefully there aren’t more.
People are always so incredibly concerned with the type of food they eat. Where it came from? What’s in it? Who killed it? Some of the best dishes prepared come from the most ingenious ingredients. My talents knows no bounds this particular evening. Even I’m impressed with dinner. Truly divine. I had the opportunity to use a highly unusual source for my dish and jumped at it. To say this thought hadn’t crossed my mind before would have been lying.
Clearing the table and preparing to serve the dessert. Set out five cups of coffee to accompany a small torte that Patrick brought. Yet there’s more discussion of our absent friend and pressure to reveal the intricacies of my elegant yet interesting dish. Shaking the curiosity of the group proved to be rather difficult. As a matter of fact I felt quite reluctant to share this evening. Randall didn’t speak to me for a month when I served him part of a brown-horned toad as an appetizer. He felt it was a violation of the extinction of rare breeds. Suppose they didn’t understand about this type of delicacy.
He came in the kitchen while I was in the middle of preparing dinner. Sneaking up behind to playfully give me a scare. Christian and I had a long understanding of playful yet cruel jokes. This was no joke though. It all happened so suddenly, like a flash before my eyes. Arms grabbed my waist. Twist, jump, turn! Complete reaction. I didn’t intentionally mean to... Jugular. The kitchen blade pierced flesh, slicing through skin and physically incapacitating his entire body in a matter of seconds. Without thinking I pulled back my tool opening the wound even more, until it became an uncontrollable fountain. I know we didn’t see eye to eye on more than one occasion, but as much as the next person, I didn’t want to see Christian dead. Yet, there he was lying on the kitchen tile, blood pooling next to his body, eyes glazed over. Oh dear, what shall I do? Seeing that it had happened I couldn’t just waste the opportunity to experiment with new cuisine.
“So Anna,” Patrick addresses me carefully with a smirk, “We’ve sat through dinner, dessert, and now your time has come to share,” I should have known it would be Patrick. He had traveled with a missionary group sometime back and spent time living among a tribe of cannibals. I’d never questioned whether he’d partaken in the rituals, until now. His eyes revealed knowledge. “Or, perhaps Anna, I could enlighten our friends. But I think you might prefer to unveil your masterpiece.”
“Christian,” I start slowly and the words drop from my mouth, “You see... He made it to dinner after all.” Olivia drops her glass, lets out a blood-curdling scream and faints. Charlotte and Randall are both frozen in a catatonic open-jawed gasp. Patrick grins in a wider more sinister manner as he raises his glass to toast me on an exquisite meal.
