“Strange and Beautiful” by Aqualung hums away in the corner… “To me, you’re strange and you’re beautiful. You’d be so perfect with me but you just can’t see. You turn every head but you don’t see me…”
Today, could have been my last day.
It was raining and I decided to go out with a work colleague to get lunch from the local Chinese take away. All was fine on the way there, but on the way back there had been a car accident right at the pedestrian island where we had crossed just earlier. A car had lost control and crashed head-on into the lampost of the island. I believe no one was hurt, but the island was wrecked (as was the car). I was approx. 2 minutes out of synch with death and/or dismemberment. All it might have taken was a moment’s procrastination or tidying up my desk at work and I might have been composing today’s soliloquy via voice recognition software or perhaps even via Ouija board. When I saw the mangled car, I raised my chin to the sky, hoping my thoughts would be read by some sort of deity. Thank God. Thank Lady Luck. In a moment’s moment I thanked them all. I think therefore I am. I thought therefore I was. Grateful.
Yesterday’s thoughts on food were kick started again with the arrival of a few chops of barbecued roast pork from Chinatown, courtesy of mom. Gotta love that barbecue sauce. Nobody does it better. Makes me feel sad for the rest. Ah, I forgot to mention meats cooked Teriyaki style. In the UK (note: my sensory abilities extend out only as far as the outskirts of London) Teriyaki is found only typically in Japanese restaurants and stalls. When I was in the US (note: my sensory abilities extend out only as far as Los Angeles), I noticed that nearly every man and his Subway dog were doing Teriyaki style something. It seemed that the secret was out and everyone thought they’d concoct their own brand (kinda like The Simpsons‘ episode guest voiced by Aerosmith, about a cocktail called “Flaming Moe’s”). Drive through any area and you’ll soon come across some place, whether it be a branch of Yoshinoya or an autonomous mud shack serving the golden wonder that is Teriyaki.
Once, whilst I was driving through a shady area of LA (let’s call it “Compton”) I saw a run down Teriyaki shack with several Police cars parked outside. The boys in blue must have been having a slight dilemma over whether to condemn the facilities or to arrest the chef, just for looking guilty with a knife. Looked like a pretty popular dive, but I opted to continue driving and find someplace safer to chow down. Preferably one with less bullet holes in the walls. When I eventually got round to finding a place, it was like a Japanese crime scene. The only thing missing was the luminous yellow Police tape, and an officer swaying his arms back and forth yelling “Move on, move on. Nothing to see here,” but in Japanese, of course. The sweet meat I was chewing didn’t taste like any Teriyaki I had ever eaten in London. During my time in the US I ate what they claimed was Teriyaki in several eateries and was shocked because it was just plain chicken covered with a sort of sweet sauce (the source of the sauce provoked mystery). Tasted like the ingredients were water and sugar and… that’s it.
“Stop right there, this is the Teriyaki Police… Come out with your hands up!”
What a crime. How can anyone just coat chicken pieces in sauce that probably came straight out of a bottle and call it Teriyaki chicken? It should be no one, but everyone seemed to be doing it nearly everywhere. Go into a burger and rib diner and they’ll offer Teriyaki chicken on the menu. Go into a newsagent to buy a daily newspaper and the vender will ask you if you’re hungry. Teriyaki everywhere. Only, not. It was Teriyaki, Jim, but not as we know it.
Not just chicken either. The same thing happened with Teriyaki beef too! I could rant on and on about that too. On and on till the cows come home, but I won’t. Also, I wondered for how long we’ve been calling meat from a pig “pork, meat from a cow “beef” and meat from a chicken just simply “chicken?” Why didn’t the forefathers of English invent a new word?
In terms of weird things, the weirdest thing I’ve eaten, if my dad was not being a comedian that day, is elephant. It tasted more like beef than chicken. Another thing considered weird by the general populace is Black Pudding (AKA Blood Sausage) which is just coagulated pig’s blood with some fat and salt thrown in. The British serve that as part of an English Breakfast and it’s yummy.
Last night I was tucking into my stir fried noodles with beef, mushrooms and a plethora of vegetables and decided to flick my TV over to Channel 4, which in well-timed fashion was showing a live autopsy. The first public one in 170 years.
Chris: Yuck, they’re handling, like, intestines whilst you’re eating noodles? Yuck! Doesn’t that slightly turn your stomach?
There was controversy surrounding it because for 1. It was blasted as being a grotesque publicity stunt by the rebellious doctor Gunther von Hagens to promote his Body Worlds exhibit (made up of anatomical and whole body specimens skinned and preserved in plastic), and 2. It was considered illegal under the 1984 anatomy act . There were 2 signs that made it appear as a publicity stunt: 1. Each member of the audience had to pay £12 to attend, and 2. Dr. von Hagens was kitted out in a gown with “Body Worlds” clearly emblazoned on the front. There were also Police present but they seemed to ignore the Department of Health’s pleas to arrest the offending doctor. Plus, the post mortem was carried out with the sardonic doctor donning a felt fedora that could easily have been mistaken as a pleather hat. I was alright, with my dinner. It stayed down. I am not at all squeamish. Quite frankly, I found the coroner’s pleather fedora more disturbing. The guy had a penchant for looking like a total imposter. Did anyone even check his credentials on the door?
