| Joe pushed his cart through the aisle of Heinen’s, wishing he’d just taken a basket. He wasn’t hungry. Usually he ate downtown after work, had a rink, caught the bus – but every so often a guy felt like he should learn how to cook. Save some money, spend more time at home instead of the bar. This would build character somehow. A good book. A pipe, the fire. More likely spaghetti in a can and a cigarette and that Argosy magazine sitting on top of the toilet tank. But at least you didn’t have to listen to someone else’s jukebox choices. He bought some apples. Somehow apples made you feel like you were making up for the things you should eat but didn't. Milk? Sure. Hamburger? Too much trouble. Never tasted as good as it did at a lunch counter, anyway. They crisped the buns on the griddle; that was the secret. Butter and grease. He bought some Post Toasties, thought a moment, doubled back two aisles for some bananas. Some canned spaghetti, some canned chipped beef, some of that chicken a la king stuff that went good with toast. That was practically cooking. That’s what he’d have tonight. He picked up some Lorna Doones, a bag of Num Nums, and a six-pack of Coke. He looked down at his sparse selections. The cart said “bachelor.” Well, I am a bachelor. Tonight at least. Probably tomorrow too. But there’s always the weekend. He asked the clerk to toss some matches in the bag, and when he took out the groceries at home he was irritated to see she hadn’t thrown in the house brand. He’d hoped to make a run at them soon, and wanted to see what design they had now. Nothing, apparently. This was just a promo giveaway. But from who? He read the back first. Makes Everything Taste Better. Huh. But would it make this catsup taste better? Could catsup make catsup taste more like catsup? There was a word for that kind of thing, totta-loji something. He’d read it in a book and looked it up – it was interesting to know, but not the sort of word you’d run into more than once or twice a year, and it wasn’t one you’d use unless you wanted one of those oh-we-have-a-college-boy looks. Anyway, tabasco didn’t make everything taste better. It made everything taste like tabasco. Maybe this was the poor man’s Bloody Mary mix. He read the spine: bad work. That's where you put a catchy slogan. Remember, you can’t spell Supper without Suppiger! No, actually, you could, but don't let them know that. The front gave him a smile, even though the designer hadn’t really thought it out – the slogan disappeared under the striker when you closed the book. Add meat as desired. Well, there was America in a nutshell. A nutshell with meat in it. Not "add meat if by some chance you were lucky enough to get some, because, well, the goat died." No, add meat as you desire. Wait a minute. Spaghetti rich in chili? Spaghettti rich in chili gravy? Tabasco in the ketchup, chili gravy in the spaghetti – what the hell was the matter with these people? Maybe it was a line of food for heavy smokers. Friend, do you suffer from Paved Tongue? Our ketchup cuts right through the ol’ mouth macadam. You know, spaghetti in chili gravy sounded pretty good. Spaghetti sounded good, for that matter. He checked his watch. He could make it to Tony’s and still get home at a reasonable hour. Joe put the milk away, grabbed his keys off the table, considered bringing the Argosy. No. There’d be papers. The drive over took longer than expected. Tony’s was almost empty. They still gave him a small seat by the back. He ordered the spaghetti. “Can I get that with chili gravy?” Joe asked the waiter. The waiter looked up from his pad. “Chili gravy,” the waiter said. “Yeah. Just asking.” The waiter shook his head. When the spaghetti came the waiter said nothing. He put the plate on the table, took a parmesan cheese shaker from the adjacent table and set it by the candle. He took a shaker of red pepper from his apron pocket and set it down with exaggerated care, and slowly pushed it one inch toward Joe’s plate. “Anything else.” Joe shook his head. He ate with no great relish, thinking: this isn’t so great. This isn’t so hard. Heck, I could make this at home. ------- As for Brooks catsup: wow. |
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