A Dinner With Sam PT1
***For all those who challenge thought and dare to think***
I never really enjoyed visiting with my brother Sam. There were so many differences between us; and he was a rather abrupt, abrasive man, and I was his younger sibling, smaller, and not as well off. I guess you could say I was somewhat afraid of him; despite the fact we were siblings, he required that I call him ‘Uncle’ all the time. Like a good man, or perhaps just a cautious person, I agreed. There was simply no logic in arguing; He was a wealthy businessman, and was responsible for the well-being of my family. By no means think that this was an act of humility and kindness, oh no, the reason he was supporting my family was a result of his actions that almost ruined us. I think I might have mentioned this before, for I always mention it; my brother is a very power hungry person.
“Hey, Nephew! Get’in here r’aight now!” It was impossible to not hear the deep voice yelling at you from the kitchen, even though we were two rooms apart. As loud as I could manage, I answered back.
“I’m coming Uncle Sam”, you ignoramus. I know, it doesn’t seem like I’m much of a brother either, does it? Well, don’t start to feel sorry for him. I should be applauded just for having the courage to oppose him in my thoughts. Sam’s the kind of guy that will whisk you away from your home and beat you silly just because he’s not sure of what you’re up to. He’s done that to guests at my house before, actually kidnapped them in the middle of the night, and beaten them. As I said earlier though, there simply isn’t any good in opposing him. Better to stay out of the kitchen than in if you can’t stand the heat.
I finished washing my hands, and carefully walked over piles of junk that had collected in his hallways. Spent gun cases, live ammunition, firearms, all strewn about the place, but that wasn’t the weirdest part. In amongst those weapons were toy cars, expensive dolls, and playful costumes. Every time I visit his house, I think on how fortunate it is that his youngins haven’t had the urge to play cops and robbers. I walked into the kitchen to find him working away, starting to prepare our meal. If I wasn’t afraid to express humour, I probably would have laughed. He stood over this great, metal mixing bowl, a fairly overweight man, completely covered in flower, bits of egg yolk, and splashed milk. By no means was he a skilled cook, but he had the determination of any man.
“Get on an apron,” was all he said, tossing me one unfortunate enough to have already been exposed to the mayhem of his cooking. It was not as bad as his, but you could tell a large amount of molasses had dripped all over the front. Underneath the wet, brown stain was the silk screened slogan, ’Everything’s bigger in Texas’. I thought to myself perhaps this applied to pretzels as well. My Uncle, err, Brother Sam almost choked to death eating one last year.
I wasn’t arrogant enough to assume that Sam wanted my help in the kitchen. He did, of course, but I think he was including me just for relations sake. He dominates practically every aspect of my life, but there are some things which he relies on me for, electricity being one of them. Careful not to gouge my feet with any of the utensils that had long ago fallen on the checkered linoleum, I went and stood beside him, observing what he had done so far, and trying to find some way I could help.
“For starters, grind up some o’that water chestnut.” He spoke with the tone of an accomplished chef. I was excited, Sam’s a very rich guy, and I had assumed we would be having foreign food tonight. I’m quite the patron of rare dishes, and whenever possible, I prepare them for my own family.
“Water Chestnut is quite an interesting ingredient, eh?” I tried to liven up the awkward tension by starting small talk.
“Huh? Oh, yeah, sure. Hurry up! I need that stuff soon.” It wasn’t exactly the lively conversation I was hoping for, but It lifted the crushing silence for a few precious moments. It was hard not to feel somewhat uptight around Sam, his level of power he exerted upon the community was frightening, with his smallest finger he could make a gesture and crush the town government into the dust. To put it lightly, he was certainly not someone you’d want to be enemies with. Not to say it was wise to be his friend, either.
After finely slicing the water chestnut, I put it in a small dish and handed it to Sam to add into that mixing bowl of his. I was so curious to find out what he was making. With so much financial freedom, one could be sure that a man of such wealth would explore quite a sophisticated array of dishes. His rounded gut protruded in testament to that.
“Get back a bit, will you? You want this done right, or what?” Without frustration, I stepped back and gave the arrogant man his space. Peering over his shoulder, I watched him begin to create our dishes. First went in the Chestnut, imported from China. Then, some Mexican Peppers, I found this odd, but who was I to judge such a person. Then, some root extract from Jamaica, and a special cooking wine from Israel. None of this seemed to make sense. In went everything, the British Steak, the Spanish Bread, the spices from India! It was as if he interpreted the entire cookbook from which he was working as one single recipe. I was stupid enough to speak up and inquire.
“What are you doing, Sam?? Don’t you know you’re mixing all of those dishes together? You’re going to lose the taste of all of those expensive ingredients if you cook them all together, they taste better individually when they retain their flavours!”. When I stopped yelling, I had finally realized what I had done.
“Don’t you go speaking like that to me!” He shouted, shoving me back and onto the ground. He towered over me, with massive arms that could crush without effort. “It’s easier to eat the food when you combine all the dishes together! Less effort, less hassle, greater convenience!” He growled like a junkyard dog, and turned around to continue with his work. I wasn’t sure if his neck was sunburnt, or red from his outburst of anger. I could do nothing, so I just stood my distance, and watched him add such delectable ingredients with reckless abandon, sending them to a doom that would rob all of what made them great. My excited anticipation over the meal quickly faded away, as I grew aware that I would be expected to consume this ghastly dish, and then pretend to enjoy it....
END OF PART 1: Check out Part II!
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