Corndogs and tuna surprise

The other night, while I was up in New York dealing with the start of school, and missing David, and trying not to go crazy from reading about the criminal incompetence of our government, I had a thought: what I need is some comfort food.

I went to the Food Emporium, and along with the fresh fruit and soy milk, I got the stuff to make one of my college-age treats: boxed macaroni and cheese made with yogurt instead of milk and butter, with tuna mixed in. I used to eat this by the potful in college, and ate it many times in my last apartment – the one with the stove in the corner, the refrigerator in the living room, and no counter. It’s even better spooned up with crinkle potato chips.

I’m a comfort food kind of guy: I used to live for mashed potatoes (until I figured out their high glycemic index rating was the reason I passed out after indulging in a bowl of spuds.) I still love meatloaf, fried chicken, roast turkey, stuffing ... all the basic stick-to-your-ribs food. Mac and cheese is high on the list. When I wasn’t eating breakfast at midnight in diners, I was having one-pot dinners in my apartment at two a.m. This was all before David came along, and I had someone to cook for.

I boiled up the macaroni – I had gotten Kraft, because the generic stuff just doesn’t do it. I mixed in the nuclear orange cheese powder. Added the plain yogurt (makes it taste like sharp cheddar, and has less fat) and then the tuna. I was anticipating the taste of this comfort treat that I hadn’t had in, oh, a few years at least. I had made macaroni and cheese once or twice when autumn rolled around, but a real version made with four cheeses, baked twice with crumbs on top. This was going to be the cheap-and-easy comfort treat that I had been missing for years.

I took a bowlful and got a DVD of “A Wrinkle In Time” booted up on the TV. Comfort bliss, here I come.

I couldn’t eat it. It was disgusting. I’d made it correctly ... it just was ... inedible. And I used to practically live on this stuff. What happened?

Damn you, healthy eating! You’ve changed my tastebuds!

I set about rectifying this situation immediately by dragging David to the Maryland State Fair the minute I got back to Baltimore. I had fond memories of state and county fairs back in Arizona. Unfortunately for David, the Maryland fair was found lacking by comparison. “This is only as big as the county fair was, back in Arizona. The state fair was four times this size! There were cows, and sheep, and goats, and pigs, and bunnies!” David, who was suffering from low blood sugar because he wisely did not want to eat any deep fried crap on a stick, just nodded and said he was glad I was having a good time. All he wanted was some kettle corn. None was to be had.

“And they had whole buildings full of stuff! And bunnies!”

We visited our friend Kelly’s non-ribbon-winning pie in the Home Arts building. I wanted to steal a ribbon from another pie and award it to her, but I did not.

I indulged my crap-tooth by having a jumbo corndog (this had to be fourteen inches long), fried dough, chicken nuggets, and frozen cheesecake on a stick. David managed to choke down an extruded nugget or two, and had a small ice cream cone as well to keep from fainting.

Mac-and-cheese-with-tuna may be lost to me now as a comfort food, but corndogs don’t disappoint. My stomach hurts now – only partially from my rage at the sociopaths in our government who spend all their time thinking up lame excuses and ways to blame others when their negligence is laid bare for all to see.

Partly it’s my rage at them, and partly, it’s the corndog.