You think that's bad... My mother had a brain-shaped jello mould. She used to mix whipped cream into pink jello so it was nice and opaque.
To this day I think she's perfecting her recipe for gray jello.
That's awesome - definitely something my mom would do too. She also wanted to get a large stack of those biohazard plastic bags and put our lunch sammiches in 'em. :P
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That's awesome - definitely something my mom would do too. She also wanted to get a large stack of those biohazard plastic bags and put our lunch sammiches in 'em. :P
Food coloring was something my mom frowned on... My dad and I would occasionally squirt some into the spaghetti noodles as they were cooking and *viola* green or blue noodles! She also didn't like it when my brother and I did a Fargo-esque snowman one year...Snowman + axe in the head + red food coloring accents = pissed parental unit.
Director of Sales
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She also didn't like it when my brother and I did a Fargo-esque snowman one year...Snowman + axe in the head + red food coloring accents = pissed parental unit.
...and now for the requisite Calvin link.
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You think that's bad... My mother had a brain-shaped jello mould. She used to mix whipped cream into pink jello so it was nice and opaque.
To this day I think she's perfecting her recipe for gray jello.
Strangely enough, this was done on the gelatin episode of Good Eats the other day.
He used a cranberry sauce for blood and squirted it over the brain-jello.
...and now for the requisite Calvin link.
Calvin & Hobbes and The Far Side had a great effect on my childhood...:)
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...and now for the requisite Calvin link.Calvin & Hobbes and The Far Side had a great effect on my childhood...:)
I cannot find the actual strip online, but my favorite has Calvin wearing his dad's glasses, and saying, "Calvin, go do something you hate. Being miserable builds character."
You think that's bad... My mother had a brain-shaped jello mould. She used to mix whipped cream into pink jello so it was nice and opaque.To this day I think she's perfecting her recipe for gray jello.
Food necromancy. That's definitely worse.
I do recall the time my mother first introduced me to cous-cous. I was 8 years old and called to eat immediately following an episode of The Outer Limits in which people investigating an abandoned military base in the American southwest were set upon by 19 inch killer ants with fiendish humanoid faces. Stop motion effects but really creepy. So then mom sits me down to introduce me to something new. She tells me that she won't tell me what it is.
"Just try it."
As a rule I was expected to empty plates and so I sat at that table until the cous-cous was cold, slowly nibbling it grain by grain, near tears over her probable diabolism. Keeping with the whole insect theme from the TV show, I was convinced that my mother was feeding me maggots. That should say something about our level of trust. Dissappointed in my foot dragging, she let me stop eating and explained to me what cous-cous was.
"Why didn't you just SAY THAT?!"
She did the same thing with eggplant. You don't see me eating much of either these days.
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You think that's bad... My mother had a brain-shaped jello mould. She used to mix whipped cream into pink jello so it was nice and opaque.
To this day I think she's perfecting her recipe for gray jello.
Strangely enough, this was done on the gelatin episode of Good Eats the other day.
He used a cranberry sauce for blood and squirted it over the brain-jello.
My mother would be proud.
I, however, am mortified that there are other people who think the same way. Clearly, it should not surprise me, as she was able to procure the brain mould in the first place.
You think that's bad... My mother had a brain-shaped jello mould. She used to mix whipped cream into pink jello so it was nice and opaque.
To this day I think she's perfecting her recipe for gray jello.
Strangely enough, this was done on the gelatin episode of Good Eats the other day.
He used a cranberry sauce for blood and squirted it over the brain-jello.
My mother would be proud.
I, however, am mortified that there are other people who think the same way. Clearly, it should not surprise me, as she was able to procure the brain mould in the first place.
It's an intriguing form of mild child abuse, isn't it?
"Here, kids. Have some eyeballs!"
"Waaaaaaaaaah!"
"Oh, don't be such a baby. They're just peeled green grapes smothered in plum sauce served in a plastic skull. It's plastic, see?"
"...WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"
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It's an intriguing form of mild child abuse, isn't it?
"Here, kids. Have some eyeballs!"
"Waaaaaaaaaah!"
"Oh, don't be such a baby. They're just peeled green grapes smothered in plum sauce served in a plastic skull. It's plastic, see?"
"...WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"
We were all pretty numb to it. She was a nurse, and she generally seemed perfectly comfortable discussing graphic dismemberments and the like at the dinner table, so brain jello and grape eyeballs were pretty tame for her.
We were all pretty numb to it. She was a nurse, and she generally seemed perfectly comfortable discussing graphic dismemberments and the like at the dinner table, so brain jello and grape eyeballs were pretty tame for her.
So I guess things didn't really come down to an all out intervention until the day she served thanksgiving in what looked like an exact replica of an human autopsy laid out upon the dining room table.
"Dig in!"
"Mom... he's... he's blue."
"Yeah, I went with a drowning theme. That's just blueberry juice lightly massaged into his Taro root skin. Cut his belly and lets get to that pine nut stuffing!"
Yikes! In my post above I meant to say Thanksgiving 'feast'. Didn't mean to suggest the lady was walking around in what looked like someone else's skin.
Funny how one missing word makes all the in the world.
I don't mean to force the door open again on this (dumb as a) post but I do have to tell one last potato story, though it concludes in the miserable tones of a dirgesinger. I was in Florida eight years ago and went to one of Wolfgang Puck's joints which had opened recently. I ordered, among other things, a dish of pomme fritte (sp?) which was... unreal. They were so long and thin and light.
I had found her... the dish that would steal my heart and never give it back. Then out from the kitchen sauntered a cocky Wolfgang Puck. Turns out he was there that night and actually took over a few of the cooking duties. He made those fries. Magician. Mensch. Saint.
I went there a few more times over the years when I found myself in Florida alas, no more Wolfgang, no more magic. It was never the same after that (life or fries) and that place's pomme fritte tasted more like pomme sheet. Ah, well... better to have tasted and lost than never to have tasted at all.
Heathansson(worst, most depraved, act of threadnecromancy evar).Yeah, this thread is going back a ways. Still, who can knock a thread about potatoes?
And especially during this time of year when the Great Potato flies over the world's potato patches and picks the most decoratively lit.
I stayed outside with my potatos all night waiting up for him, but all I got was hypothermia, an amputated toe, and a racking cough. No matter, I shall always love those tasty pleasure orbs. Oh, and potatoes too.
Merry Merry. :)
Found this link today on Digg featuring the Death Star home theater of Paizo's own Vic Wertz and Lisa Stevens.
Yeah, I saw that too. I think they should invite all Pathfinder subscribers over for movies as a bonus. :)
That is F*#kin awesome!