There is an evil that lies dormant in the heart of every man. An evil that remains untouched by most mortals, but in the long dark night of the soul that evil is often caressed and embraced. In that nighttime the line between genius and madness becomes erased, and out of that netherworld great creations can emerge (Post It Notes and Pre-Bagged Salad to name just two) and great terror can errupt (Reality TV and Sports Casual Clothing Designs)
For some reason maniacal geniuses always work in heavy thunderstorms.
The storm hit Houston at 1:50pm on Labor Day.
Up till that point it had been a day like any other. Two types of Hummus (Kalamata Olives and Roasted Garlic with Tofu) had been measured and mixed – all ready for the Tuesday ravenous hoards to descend. I had been reading cookbooks creating a new dinner party menu. I was half way through testing a new side dish – roasted beets in a buttery dill glaze.
“I can’t serve this to my guests; I want them to enjoy dinner!”
At that moment did I hear the eldritch laughter in the storm, or was it just the wail of a satanic car alarm?
Thunder rolled, as thunder always does.
I abandoned the beets in disgust. One question remained. “What do I do with the left over tofu?”
Evil. Evil from the dawn of time awakened in my soul.
Dr. Frankenstein crossed the boundary into madness in his castle during a thunderstorm. How willing was I to push forward the limits of the culinary arts? After all, somebody had to eat the first egg – “Mmmm this fell out of a chicken’s ass, I wonder how it tastes!” And somebody fried the first kidney – “This organ filters animal waste and creates urine, I bet it would be delicious with bacon!”
Rain pummeled the earth.
The line between the genius of the fried egg and the madness of fried kidney was washed away.
As the storm raged on I melted butter in my skillet. The lights flickered as I stir fried the diced tofu. Somewhere a hound of hell howled into the darkened sky as the cubed roasted beetroots was added to the pan. The purple tinge of the beets spread like a blood stain across the purity of the butter drenched tofu, tarnishing its soul.
“But how to serve this new creation?”
In the flickering light my eyes glanced upon a half opened package of garlic herb tortillas. And so, in that raging storm, in a small apartment in Houston, Texas, the world’s first ever Tofu and Beetroot Burrito was born.
This Vision of Possibilities lay on the plate awaiting the final frontier. Till now I had remained cool and detached from my creation, but now, like Dr Jekyll before me, I must take the final step across the line. The Scientist must become the Experiment.
The hint of purple juices.
Beetroot and tofu exploded on my taste buds and my eyes were finally opened to the bitter purple truth.
Some food is not meant to be consumed by mortal men.
As the gagging subsided my experiment tumbled from my hand. The storm abated leaving only a sour taste in my mouth. Evil crept back into the darkness as a calm evening in front of the TV. beckoned.
And in the final roll of thunder an echo lingered, a promise.