Tide pods and couch potatoes

I asked Alison the other day if her friends were eating Tide Pods.

If you don't know yet, it's a thing. Such a thing that celebrities have been called in to tell people not to do it and the media are reporting that it's, well, a thing.

 So it seemed like a responsible parenting kind of thing to ask. Alison gave me the old over-the-glasses look, issued a statement and went back to watching Netflix on her phone.

"No, Mom. My friends are not idiots," she said.

Good to know.

Not that I was really worried. I do wonder  though:

who are these people taking this stupid challenge? For the record, we use the pods and like 'em just fine. None of us have considered gnawing one open anymore than we'd toss back a gulp from the jug of detergent we used to buy.

Also off the table is sniffing powderized chocolate. Also a thing. Not one I'm asking Ali about for fear she'd commit me. I mean, really. Chocolate? That's even crazier than laundry soap. No one should waste chocolate like that.

After a busy Saturday where we didn't see each other much -- I spent some time with some hilarious friends and then Jeff and I attended the annual Christ the King Trivia Night fundraiser with other, equally fun friends while Alison had a friend over -- Ali and I spent most of yesterday on opposite ends of the living room couch.

I read the paper, read a book, wrote a bit about Claymont's latest goings on, and took a break to go to the gym. Ali, who swims two hours a day during the week, declined my offer for her to visit the gym.

I don't know if she moved while I was gone, but I doubt it. She had her headphones on and was connected to her friends and video via her phone. I refreshed her snack supply and got my own before rejoining her.

 If NatGeo had been observing us in our natural habitat -- probably from a hidden spot in the fireplace -- they might not have noticed how glorious it was. But it was. We didn't talk a lot, but we shared a blanket and nudged each other on occasion. Chatted with Jeff when he stopped by a couple times to report on just how long it had been since we had moved.

At one point, I had checked my laptop on the kitchen counter and got caught up in something. She called from across the way: "Hey, I thought you were coming back."

Alison is five months from the end of her junior year in high school. I have maybe a year left of this kind of lethargic bliss. So I'll be on that couch as long as she wants to share it with me.

Explosive Chicken, Numb Tongues & Champagne

Our 2017 NYE party will be remembered either as the year of the Explosive Chicken or The Year Our Tongues Went Numb.

If you're wondering, you don't want a numb tongue.

I blame Andy Seiwert and a guy named Action Bronson whose "Fuck, That's Delicious" came to our home via the aforementioned Mr. Seiwert. That's the author/chef/taste-bud killer there to your right.

Within his book, which is described on the cover as, "An annotated guide to eating well," is the recipe for explosive chicken.

Jeff just had to trot it out as the main entree for our NYE party. He went to something like 17 different stores to get the ingredients and made use of Alison's new kitchen scale to get everything just right. His trusty partner in culinary crime, Eric Yocum, was all-in on the caper.

In Eric's defense, he did say "That's a lot of pepper" as Jeff revealed the ingredient list. In his prosecution, he continued to assist in making it anyway.

All I can say is, I was grateful we had tons of champagne, craft beer and other food. One of which was my famous guacamole, which Jeff had complained was too spicy. Cue the irony.

I also stole and adjusted a recipe from Jen Chase that involves artichoke dip, stir fry sauce and cheese stuffed into halved sweet peppers and baked. Lisa and John brought sushi. Sara and John brought some great dip and crackers and something else that I remember loving but can't quite name. I seem to have lost track of what all was scattered about in dishes and platters and bowls. I broke out the chocolate fountain and Tracy brought her gourmet European cookie tin.

Early on, Jeff triumphed in recreating a Ramen dish we were given as a sample at the sushi restaurant at the Baltimore Airport. It was really good and was the perfect thing to set everyone up for the promised dish from the celebrated chef. It was going to be even better, right?

 I think it was after 8  p.m. when Jeff started passing around our portions. We were all a little soused and therefore vulnerable.

Rather than describe the dish any further, I'll just give you a sampling of the reactions. Some are continuations of longer quotes from people as they chewed, swallowed or (in rare cases) had a second or third bite:

"Wow. That's interesting."

"My tongue feels funny."

"Gak. That's bad."

"The finish is, wow, uh, wow. That's something."

"Oh my God!" (Not in the good way.)

"I can't feel my tongue."

"My tongue is swollen."

"Nope."


"Dude: we're gonna need those mini pizzas, STAT."

Later that night, someone found a bottle of Little Kings in our fridge. Duane Jasheway, who will eat pretty much anything and love it, and has a wide range of alcoholic tastes, said, "I would rather pull that chicken out of the trash than drink that."

The chicken notwithstanding, we had a great night with great people and even a demonstration of how to fold fitted sheets properly. Eric interrupted his kitchen duties (at my insistence) to show off his sheet-folding skills even as Scott Cunningham kept shouting, "No! No! This is not the memory I want of my New Year's Eve!"

I'm pretty sure the chicken took care of that fear. I'll let  you know if I remember how to fold the sheet. I'm pretty sure champagne will help.

Happy New Year, everyone.