Thursday, August 12, 2004

When I was a wee lad no more than 3 or 4 years old, my mum would trot out some pots and pans to keep me occupied while she prepared dinner. Contrary to what you may think, I didn’t sit and stare at the pots like a jackass, nor did I converse with them. I pretended to cook, and this basically meant I banged on these containers as loudly as possible.

Almost two decades later, things haven’t changed much. I’m still pretending to cook, except I’ve added sharp, pointy objects and flammable gas to my ritual. What happened last evening, however, far surpassed flammable gas, dangerous knives, even the terrifying Pillsbury Dough Boy in shock value.

Earlier this week I decided, in a moment I’ve since come to regret, to put off grocery shopping for the weekend. Flash-forward to last evening, when I gave my cupboard a sly look and grabbed my jar of magic. As the makers of Nutella proudly proclaim, “You can have Nutella almost anytime with almost anything.” I apparently applied this wondersauce to the wrong thing at the wrong time.

You see, gentle reader, after securing my jar of Nutella I popped my fridge open and beheld a carton of fresh milk. Have you heard of fresh milk? It’s a substance that’s pure, white, and clearly in need of dirtying. I promptly shoveled two scoops of Nutella into my cup, followed by three or four tablespoons of spring water. Into the microwave my concoction went, and 30 seconds later I witnessed the beginnings of a ghastly experiment. What I had hoped to produce was warm syrup to mix with some milk. What actually emerged from my microwave suggested–I kid you not–that one of those M&M fellows shat in my cup.

Fazed but hopeful, I stirred the mixture furiously until it resembled chocolate syrup. I added milk to the syrup, sampled a little Milktella, and then downed the entire cup. My first feeling was warm satisfaction. My second feeling–and my stomach twinges even as I recount this–was the “15 minutes after Burger King” feeling. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I drank a Rodeo Burger. It’s just that I ingested something very rich, something that had no rightful place in a balanced diet.

I still believe in the “Anything, Anytime” credo of Nutella, however, so I’m in high spirits. What forbidden combination of foodstuffs awaits me? Set creativity to stun.