Authored by: cgrotke on Tuesday, March 25 2008 @ 06:15 PM EDT

Sushi.

We went out for a birthday celebration at a great sushi restaurant in
DC. There might have been 10-12 of us.

The waitress comes, and our end of the table orders for everyone.
Lots of food for all.

After she takes the order and the food starts coming, the other end of
the table, perhaps 8 people, say "No, we aren't eating anything."

Those of us who were eating looked at one another and decided we'd
eat it all. And we did. Soft-shelled crab, tempura, teriyaki, sushi of all
sorts. We were stuffed, which is very hard to do eating sushi.

The wait staff was so impressed, they brought us extra goodies, like
green tea ice cream and fruit platters. To be polite, we had to eat that
too. It was getting ridiculous. The total bill was about $300

One of my friends called in "full" to work the next day.

Authored by: larrybloch on Tuesday, March 25 2008 @ 06:31 PM EDT

Yogurt.

Called before the principal back in high school because of being one of
the leaders of a very messy spit ball war which spilled over from the
school bus to the school yard to the classroom.

The spitball:

One or two pieces of lined loose leaf paper, crumpled and then slowly
chewed on until just the right consistency. Then, insert some fruited
yogurt inside the now degraded paper, wrap and fire. This missile,
which would travel well through the air, both splattered widely and
hardened quickly upon contact due to the combined properties of the
saliva, the paper and, of course, the yogurt.

Boys will be boys.

Authored by: annikee on Tuesday, March 25 2008 @ 08:15 PM EDT

I was lucky to have come along after some boys. When small, they made a snowstorm and skating rink with flour and butter. That's a hard act to follow.

Off hand the only thing I remember us all doing was putting liver on this shelf thing under the dining room table. When my mom moved it, all this old liver fell out. We caught it for that. Made the dog happy, though.

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"Kindness and love being the core of human interaction rather than power and material gain is at the heart of everything worth struggling for"-SK-B

Authored by: Wendy M. Levy on Wednesday, March 26 2008 @ 10:07 AM EDT

Wow, these great stories are tough to follow! Anyway, here's mine:

My sister and I were pretty much left to our own devices at a young age. Being bored and somewhat wicked (who, me?), we decided to make a "potion."

I think we got the idea of what a potion even was from watching The Smurfs. Between Gargamel and Papa Smurf, we'd seen many ingredients poured into many cauldrons.

Having no cauldron, we grabbed what was handy: one of my Mom's Revereware stockpots. We didn't exactly know what went into potions, so we started with food. More accurately, condiments.

Into the pot went squirts of ketchup, mustard, a collection of salad dressings from the refrigerator door. A splash of milk, a blob of mayonnaise, a big spoonful of grape jelly.

Then we found the cooking oil, so in went some of that, too. Vinegar? Why not! Then up to the spice cabinet for special seasonings. Then down to the baking cabinet for flour, sugar, powdered sugar, pancake syrup (I grew up in NJ, so it was Log Cabin, not VT Maple), Caro syrup...

We might have thrown a few handfuls of sugary breakfast cereal in there, too. Maybe it was even Smurfberry Crunch (which is fun to eat, a Smurfy, fruity breakfast treat).

Once we were satisfied with the ingredients, my sister and I stirred and stirred, no doubt with one of my Mom's wooden spoons.

Stir stir stir.

We knew we weren't going to actually eat this mess, but we were hoping for some smoke or a flash to pop forth, bringing a genie or Smurfette.

Nothing happened except for a bad smell. We grew bored with it.

But now what?

Just because we're from NJ doesn't mean we're from a Mafia family, so we had no idea how to successfully dump a body or a potion.

We couldn't toss it in the trash. Mom would see it.

It wouldn't really fit down the drain of the sink - it was too clumpy. (We weren't yet cooks, so we didn't think to strain the solids through a colander or Chinoise and let the liquids swirl down the drain.)

So, we took the whole stock pot and put it outside in the back yard. We tried the "hiding it in plain sight" strategy.

Of course it didn't work.

And boy, were we in trouble.

Jackie and Wendy Levy, found guilty of the following offenses: wasting food (the worst offense, in fact, coming from a family where money was tight, to say the least), making a horrible mess, and attempted murder of my Mom's beloved Revereware stockpot.

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Tune in to 107.7 fm WVEW every Thursday from 6-8pm to hear The Most Boring Radio Program Ever

Authored by: cgrotke on Wednesday, March 26 2008 @ 12:03 PM EDT

When I was about 3, I made a special easter cake.

I got up early, and made my own recipe:

Take a 5 pound bag of flour, mix with a five pound bag of sugar, add
a generous helping of easter grass from the easter basket.

Nice recipe, eh? I knew things needed to be baked, so I put it all in
the oven. I didn't (couldn't) turn it on.

I didn't get in any serious trouble for this - too small and not much
damage done. Probably wise, for I have enjoyed real baking from the
age of about 5 or 6. If I had been punished, I might not have like it
so much.

Authored by: annikee on Wednesday, March 26 2008 @ 07:14 PM EDT

My first baking from scratch was a disaster. I was 11, followed the Fanny Farmer recipe carefully for a white cake with boiled icing.

Somehow, what was supposed to be 2 layers barely made one, and it was inedible. The boiled icing? It boiled all right. And hardened in the pot, spoon stuck fast in it, and it all had to be thrown away.

Luckily, I wasn't killed for this. I went on to create my own recipes. Such as meat loaf that had a "handful of milk", and "spicy burgers" that tasted a lot like sausage.

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"Kindness and love being the core of human interaction rather than power and material gain is at the heart of everything worth struggling for"-SK-B

Authored by: Wendy M. Levy on Wednesday, March 26 2008 @ 08:50 PM EDT

I'm glad Annikee didn't stop her recipe inventions. I've often enjoyed her BBQ kielbasa, corned beef, meatballs... the list goes on. mmm... now I'm hungry...

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Tune in to 107.7 fm WVEW every Thursday from 6-8pm to hear The Most Boring Radio Program Ever

Authored by: Genie on Wednesday, March 26 2008 @ 09:01 PM EDT

When I was somewhere between the ages of 9 and 14, I decided to help celebrate one of our cat's birthdays in style. (In my alterfunctional family of origin, cats held a position equal to and sometimes above human family members.) I always wondered why the cats were not permitted to eat with us at the table.

I decided to make a birthday cake for the cat--I forget his name (Oh my...). I used a petite 2-3" aluminum cake pan. I mixed up the cake batter as usual, except I inserted wet canned cat food. As it cooked it rose up just like a cake should. But the smell in the kitchen was not too great--but not as stenching as when I fried fresh pig kidneys another time.

When the cake was done and had cooled, I inserted one candle and lit it for my dear cat brother. The cat refused to eat my cat and caused me to cry. Nobody else in the house batted an eyelash. Experimenting in the kitchen was wide open.

Genie

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Wonders Never Cease.