The Foodie and the Beast arrive home after work nearly at the same time.
Foodie: What in the hell is in that bag?
Beast: Just some stuff that I picked up from work.
Foodie: Like what?
Beast: Ah, like these amazing plates!
Beast: Here’s one with George Washington crossing the Delaware and another of him at Valley Forge.
Foodie: These are nice! We can eat dinner off of them tonight! I picked up some little pork loins, zucchini and potatoes.
Beast: We will not eat off of these ever! They are for display purposes only. I am going to hang them up in my music room.
Foodie (seeing something else in the goodie bag): What in the hell is that?
Beast: It’s a clock.
Foodie (Seeing the back of the clock): Oh god, I think I hate it–it looks like it’s going to be too psychedellic.
Beast (Turning it around): It’s mid-century modern, dummy. And this would sell for about $500. Let me plug it in.
Foodie: Oh it’s pretty! What else is in there?
Beast: It’s a bottle of prosecco that a woman gave to me for helping her move a piece of furniture.
Foodie: How nice! It’s not prosecco though–it’s Martini Asti, which is basically sparkling wine made in Asti, in Piemonte. And blah blah blah blah one of Italy’s biggest exports blah blah.
Beast: Can we make cocktails with it?
Foodie: You bet your ass we can!
Beast (opening the cork): Let’s fucking party!
We didn’t actually party that night but I must say, it was still a sensational evening because of all the teamwork that transpired. I prepped dinner while the Beast made us cocktails.
And while the Beast cooked dinner on the barbecue I did some work on a little book review that was due the next day.
Foodie: What do you call it when you’re like, really aware of yourself and like you say stuff about yourself?
Beast: Don’t use words that you don’t know the meaning of. What are you trying to say?
Foodie: You know, like. Um.
Foodie: I have no attention span tonight. My brain feels so unfocused. I’m hungry. Do you want another cocktail?
After a second cocktail of Aperol, Martini d’Asti and a dash of bitters, dinner was ready. There were no new Mad Men DVDs rented so we agreed to watch a movie that neither of us had seen in a while: Manhattan.
Foodie: This is really, really good.
Beast: What did you do to the pork?
Foodie: Well, I used that mortar and pestle I bought in Montreal and I took some lemon rind and bashed it up with rosemary, thyme, lemon juice, olive oil and lots of salt and pepper and then I just smeared the little pork loins with it and let them sit for about an hour. You cooked them perfectly, so that helps, too.
There’s a scene early on in Manhattan where Diane Keaton and her lover are walking down the street with Woody Allen and Mariel Hemingway after they all just met at the MOMA. And Keaton goes on about how people like Norman Mailer, Sol Lewitt, Gustav Mahler, Carl Jung, F. Scott Fitzgerald and Issac Denison are all overrated and Woody is outraged and says, “Those people are all terrific. Next you’re going to tell me that you don’t like Mozart.”
Beast: You know what I love about this? That I react the exact same way when people are negative like that–even when I don’t necessarily disagree with them. I would praise people emphatically who I wouldn’t normally praise: I’d praise Nelly Furtado.
Foodie: That is your personality, isn’t it? I’m still starving. You want a coconut frozen fruit bar thing?
Beast: Not yet.
Foodie: Well I’m still hungry. So I’m getting mine. You’re going to want one when you see me eating mine so I’ll just bring you yours now, too.
While I was in the kitchen getting the frozen fruit bars, I heard the Beast playing one note over and over again on the piano. It was very annoying.
Foodie (yelling from kitchen): What are you doing?
Beast: This is my musical rendition of living with you.