Friday, April 29, 2011

I Make Another Dumb Sandwich

A long time ago, I watched a TV show about a man and his dream. In this man's dream, he made a peanut butter and tuna fish sandwich. This show was The Office, and the man was Michael Scott. I'm not going to draw that part out.

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/d/dc/MichaelScott.png
This fuckass.

In episode twenty-three of season five, Scott says the following:

"I once had a dream... that I was eating a peanut butter and tuna fish sandwich. And, let me tell you something, it was delicious. So the next day, I decided to make that sandwich. And in real life it is disgusting."

Well, I was intrigued. Being a well-known practitioner of Combining Food That isn't Usually Combined, having many published and famous papers on the applications of applesauce to meats and baked goods, and having the Umlaut under my belt, I decided I should attempt to recreate Michael Scott's dream and decide once and for all: how bad could it be?

It was a week before I could gather the materials needed to craft what I have christened the Michael Scott, mostly because we didn't have any canned tuna, which is, depending on how you look at it, either 1/4 or 1/3 the sandwich. Does the bread count as one ingredient or two? Does the bread count at all? Perhaps I should consider this some other time.

There was also the psychological aspect of this venture: what would everyone think of me? Will my experiments finally go too far and the Michael Scott will become the metaphorical Frankenstein's Monster and rend my pathetic mortal flesh (I never read the book, the monster did kill the scientist, right?)? Most signs pointed to me being a paranoid madman, but this was a fact I largely knew beforehand.
There was also ethics to consider. Science is bound by ethics, you see. How could I make a sandwich that I would potentially throw away and waste perfectly fine food when there were starving children in Africa? I then remembered I don't give a fuck, so that stopped being a problem.

So tonight I made the Michael Scott. And also took pictures.

http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XjDxF83sTW4/TbtnvTVqklI/AAAAAAAAAC8/vG5HbQVRKeg/s320/The%2BMichael%2BScott.JPG
What have I become?

I took that photo, then ate it. I was either expecting it to be horrendously godfuck awful or surprisingly amazing. If it was horrendously godfuck awful, I'd probably eat it anyway and swear profusely while I describe the taste. If it was surprisingly amazing, I'd eat it and swear profusely while I describe the taste. The truth was, it was neither of those things. It was...average.

Not for lack of trying. It was on the good side of average, but still fairly unremarkable once you get past the fact you are eating a peanut butter and tuna fish sandwich. At first, the tuna overpowers everything with its strong fish and dill taste, but the peabnut bubber leaves a pleasant aftertaste of...peanut butter. The Michael Scott is about as straightforward as a man punching you in the face repeatedly: very.

So in the end it wasn't actually as awful as Michael Scott said. Certainly no dream sandwich, but also not 'disgusting.' Make it once just to say you have, I guess is what I'm saying.

Man, first the hot god and then the Umlaut and now this? I should write a cookbook. I Say!: I Hate Everything's Guide to Fine Dining and General Cookery. That shit'd get on Opera right there.

No comments:

Post a Comment