Recipes for Disaster: A January Lunch Edition

Think back to when you were in college. If you’re already in college…think back about 8 hours ago. I want you to imagine what it was like to wait in line at the entree section of the cafeteria, knowing full well that, whatever you decided to get, you would end up eating it with the utmost disappointment and loss of whimsy. The meat was never spiced right, the corn was just a little too dry, and you always knew that the fallback plan would be Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

IT’S GOT DAT SYNOMIN TOSTE FLAVUR IN ER’RY BYTE! What a great commercial campaign.

But the pain of having to deal with slightly-less-than-adequate food shouldn’t have to fade when you grow up. In fact, you can combine that sadness with the ill-fortuned pile of shit that’s found in a child’s lunchbox after a night of binge-watching The West Wing. So I’m bringing the first of a (probable) series of recipes for you to enjoy. Join me at my cubicle, as your eyes take a bite of my…

 

RECIPES FOR DISASTER:

A January Lunch Edition

And our guests for the evening is our Regrettable Regret Table of the food I put in my stomach almost daily.

Smorgas-bored? At your office, you’ll be smorg-adored! Puns make the bites less painful!

Let’s start with the primary contender. The wicked ‘wich that has come to know me intimately…very intimately.

Turkey and Cheese Sandwich

Just…look at it…don’t question it…embrace it…

• 2 slices whole grain bread
• 2 slices pre-sliced honey turkey (the ones that come in the tupperware container)
• Sliced cheese (doesn’t matter how many slices, the guy who cut it probably cut it too thin and now it’s all cheesy shards)
• Mayo that can be squeezed out of a previously-unrefrigerated bottle

 

1. Take your two slices of bread, and gently pick off the grains from the crust. Otherwise they’ll be stuck in your teeth, and then you’ll spend the next two hours playing Operation using your tongue.
2. Lay the bread flat, and squeeze out a portion of warm mayonnaise.
3. Instead of using a knife to spread the mayo, take a slice/sliver of cheese, and make believe it’s a spreading instrument. After all, why dirty another dish?
4. Put the soggy cheese on the bread, and cover with two folded pieces of condensed turkey.
5. Place the top layer of carbs over the slimy meat. Proceed to find only one clean tupperware container, and find a way to “just make it fit for a couple hours.”

 

Brownies Right From The Goddamn Box

Don’t get off at Frowntown – make your way to Browntown! …Sounded cleaner in my mind.

• 1 box of brownie mix (I recommend Ghira…Ghirard…screw it, get the store brand)
• 1 egg
• 1 cup of tap water…trust me, those faucet diseases will bake right out
• 1/2 cup vegetable oil (can substitute with olive, but may taste like olives)
• Big-ass bag o’ choco chips (optional…but, honestly, is it really?)

 

1. Preheat your oven to 400 degrees (or, in my case, 375, since my oven is an asshole and likes to burn things).
2. Lightly grease an 8×8 baking pan. Or heavily grease. Your call, really. Go nuts.
3. In a medium-sized bowl (so help you God if you grab a small bowl), mix the chocolate powder, the egg, 1 cup of tap water, and 1/2 cup of vegetable. Attempt to fish out a tiny piece of shell, only to realize it was just part of the egg whites.
4. Optionally add as much choco chips as you want. Take a whole damn handful and chuck it wistfully into the bowl, and mash that bastard to a cocoa pulp.
5. Pour mixture into baking pan, and bake that masterpiece for 25 minutes. Check on it at the 14 minute marker, you know, just to be sure it’s cooking. Check on it again once every 3 minutes after that.
6. Burn your hand as you pull it out. Say the Lord’s name in extreme vanity.
7. Let cool for 5 minutes. Cut into squares, and get tiny brownie chunks to come up after each slice. Eat each crumb, because, it’s not like it counts as an actual brownie…you know…if it’s crumbs…

 

Coffee From The Work Vending Machine

Wash down that healthy lunch with a beverage that will…wash out that healthy lunch…

• 1 K-Cup, J-Cup, V-Cup, or whatever the hell brand of coffee device you own
• 1 likeminded machine that will brew it for you in 30 seconds.
• 1 styrofoam cup that will lead to the downfall of the planet
• 1 packet of “sugar”-brand sugar
• 1 little cup of half-and-half, most likely Land-O-Lakes or International Delight
• 1 plastic stirrer that will lead to the downfall of the planet

 

1. Grab a styrofoam cup from the teetering stack. Feel a pang of guilt for using styrofoam, but refuse to change routine. Life’s too hard to teach this old dog new tricks.
2. Grab a coffee holder device cup thing, any flavor. Understand that each flavor is only a teensy bit different than the other. Attempt to make it a decision anyway.
3. Begin brewing coffee, using that 30 second period to prepare the accouterments. Giggle at the word “accouterments.”
4. Upon finishing the brew, apply accouterments thusly.
5. Take a tiny sip to approve amount of sugar and cream. Let the tiny droplet become a cascading lava river on your tongue. Move tongue around inside mouth with vigor, against the walls of the teeth. Let feeling subside after 6 seconds of mild torture.

 

And Featuring A Bonus Guest…Some Stranger’s Recently-Expired Wheat Thins

I may not know you, previous desk owner, but damn it all, I respect you.

• 1 box of Wheat Thins, preferably from an unexplained origin
• 1 cubicle desk
• 1 stomach, devoid of pride and filled with the feeling of “I could eat, but only a nibble”
• Regret

 

1. Let stomach start to growl to the point of where it begins verbalizing demands, like a 4 year old with a penchant for throwing shit at strangers.
2. Decide to wait another 45 minutes until lunch, because that one guy usually eats right now, and he’s being super loud on the phone again, and you don’t want to listen in on his conversation but now you’re aware of the entire situation between his best friend Craig and his mistress.
3. Open desk drawers to see if sober-minded-full-stomached Steve left a munchie.
4. Stumble across Wheat Thins, and question their sudden appearance.
5. Look around suspiciously, in case there’s a hidden camera watching. Become paranoid of Big Brother for a quick 2-second period.
6. Open box, take a bite of one of the crackers. Check expiration date. Notice the box has been expired for at least 4 months.
7. Shamelessly finish the rest of your handful, because “it was already in my hands, and I can’t just throw it away…there’s still some crunch left…”