It's Good Enough for Val

This might just be my last tale of what I fondly remember as The Book House Experience.

It HAS been seven days now. Good ol' Ben Franklin said, "Fish and visitors stink after three days." To which I say, Ben really needed a better class of visitor, or to quit taking them out kite-flying all the live-long day. Or to feed them some stinky fish to set them on their way.

I would never do that. Feed people stinky fish. In fact, I took special care to choose items for the canned food drive at The Book House last Saturday. And by special care, I mean that I reached into my pantry on the way out the door, and grabbed something that I thought folks might enjoy.

C'mon. You all remember grade school, when you asked your mom for a can of food for the food drive, and she told you to pick one out, and you thoughtfully seized a can of creamed corn. Because you darn sure didn't want to have to eat that creamed corn yourself. That goes for peas and beets, too. It made me feel so GOOD to help people. To allow them to feast on my creamed corn. I was sure the children who were my age would have thanked me profusely if they knew I was behind the yearly influx of creamed corn.

As I grabbed the makings of an eclectic smorgasbord off my shelves, I wondered how my donation would be perceived from a Seinfeld perspective. I knew darn good and well not to donate muffin stumps. Rebecca DeMornay made her feelings on that foodstuff quite clear. But this collection was no muffin stump. It was a meal in itself. There was something from every canned-food group. A can of white-meat chicken, some Chunky Sirloin Burger soup, hot dog chili sauce, tomato sauce, black olives, Combos Buffalo Blue Cheese Pretzels, and a box of instant hot chocolate packets. Mmm. Though some might not serve all these taste treats together, and prefer, in fact, to mix and match with other donations.

If it was in Val's pantry, it has to be good. No way was I going to give delicacies like baby corns in a jar, hearts of palm, huitlacoche, paddlefish caviar, or pickled pigs' feet. No sirree, Bob! Nobody really likes that stuff. Except maybe that weirdo Andrew Zimmern on Bizarre Foods on The Travel Channel. He gets paid to like it. He's always waxing orgasmic over a gelatinous cartilaginous pig's knuckle stew, or rooster testicle soup.

I only regret that I could not part with sardines in mustard sauce. I love that stuff.