We spent the weekend in Greenbelt, MD: a short way from the nation's capital, a planned community born of FDR's new deal, and home of one Kevin Skolnik. This beloved friend took us in and showed us the many wonders of his life: free afropop concerts in the park, the local farmer's market, the Da Vinci exhibit at the National Geographic Museum.
In return, we showed him the wonders of our life, which consist mostly of food. Pizza at Comet, featured on the show Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives. Pasta Pomodoro, from scratch.
And chicken sort-of bleu nuggets. A decade ago, when Matt and Kevin were roommates in college, they played a game. After the cafeteria had closed, they tormented one another with suggestions of the most delicious food imaginable. Pesto pizza. Heaping mountains of sushi. Chicken cordon bleu nuggets. The winner endured endless suggestions of mouthwatering delight. The loser, overcome with hunger, would go out to get fast food. In honor of 1001 hungry nights, I have created the chicken sort-of bleu nugget: a tender strip of chicken rolled around swiss cheese and turkey bacon (for anyone that might not be eating ham), soaked in buttermilk, breaded in flour and panko bread crumbs, and fried. You might call it a flavor grenade. Or a fat bomb. Or a dream fulfilled.
We filled the rest of our time with several fresh mint mojitos, a lot of laughter, a bit of music, and one terrible haircut.
Let me start by answering the obvious questions: Yes, I cut Matt's hair. No, I was not drunk. No, it wasn't a practical joke. He took it pretty well, actually. He avoided mentioning that it looks like a terrible case of mange and hid himself in the desert exhibit at the National Botanical Gardens.
We headed north to Delaware and Pennsylvania as Kevin headed south to record his EP. More tales of harrowing puppetry feats when we return.title song.
No comments:
Post a Comment