... I remember this one time a while after we liberated a Goblin chef (not chief, we killed the chief) named Freaky Moe. He became the new cook on Shanahans' ship, and he was good, very good.
We were a’ sea betwixt one point and another 'tween adventures when Freaky Moe awoke me from a bender enhanced nap. He said he had something for me to try. And seein' as Moe never steered us wrong 'afore, I decided to go along with him.
He explained to me on the walk from my cabin to the galley that he got first made this particular meal for a friend of his named Jack. Jack liked the opium too much and as such drifted off into la la land frequently, and required a good slapping to bring him back to sobriety.
The galley smelled good this morning, afternoon, whatever. Something different was is the air, kind of cakey, but not sweet. Moe bade me sit at the table and said it'd only be a couple minutes, he had the batter mixed, and only had to pour it in the pan, flip, and serve. I had a drink of HotD (hair of the dog) to settle my stomach.
Moe waddled out with a Jethro sized platter of these golden brownish, light, flat, round cakes stacked a couple inches high. Seein' as I was famished I dug in with gusto.
After I managed to swallow the first mouthful I said to Moe "kind of dry going down Moe."
He said "They must need some lubricant.", and slathered the stack with butter.
I took another mouthful, "Moe, they kind of bland."
Moe said "I got the thing, be right back Dag." He trotted off to the kitchen and was back in a thrice. He then poured some syrupy liquid on the remaining stack.
"What's that syrupy stuff Moe?".
"Its sweetened maple tree sap, from the Great White North forest."
I tried another bite, and that was it. I finished the whole stack and asked for more. I went in the kitchen to watch him cook another stack, and asked "how did your friend Jack give you the idea Moe?'
"I was mixing up some batter to bread-up some fish for Mrs. Pawls one morning and tripped over Jacks passed out body, and spilled the batter on the griddle. I flipped the cake over cause it was going to burn before cooking all the way through. And there it was. I picked it up and slapped Jack with it till it fell apart. He awoke, ate the cake and asked for more. I just don't know what to call them."
"Call them griddle cakes, or pan cakes, or even Slap-Jacks. I don't care just get to fixin' more, Moe"
We were a’ sea betwixt one point and another 'tween adventures when Freaky Moe awoke me from a bender enhanced nap. He said he had something for me to try. And seein' as Moe never steered us wrong 'afore, I decided to go along with him.
He explained to me on the walk from my cabin to the galley that he got first made this particular meal for a friend of his named Jack. Jack liked the opium too much and as such drifted off into la la land frequently, and required a good slapping to bring him back to sobriety.
The galley smelled good this morning, afternoon, whatever. Something different was is the air, kind of cakey, but not sweet. Moe bade me sit at the table and said it'd only be a couple minutes, he had the batter mixed, and only had to pour it in the pan, flip, and serve. I had a drink of HotD (hair of the dog) to settle my stomach.
Moe waddled out with a Jethro sized platter of these golden brownish, light, flat, round cakes stacked a couple inches high. Seein' as I was famished I dug in with gusto.
After I managed to swallow the first mouthful I said to Moe "kind of dry going down Moe."
He said "They must need some lubricant.", and slathered the stack with butter.
I took another mouthful, "Moe, they kind of bland."
Moe said "I got the thing, be right back Dag." He trotted off to the kitchen and was back in a thrice. He then poured some syrupy liquid on the remaining stack.
"What's that syrupy stuff Moe?".
"Its sweetened maple tree sap, from the Great White North forest."
I tried another bite, and that was it. I finished the whole stack and asked for more. I went in the kitchen to watch him cook another stack, and asked "how did your friend Jack give you the idea Moe?'
"I was mixing up some batter to bread-up some fish for Mrs. Pawls one morning and tripped over Jacks passed out body, and spilled the batter on the griddle. I flipped the cake over cause it was going to burn before cooking all the way through. And there it was. I picked it up and slapped Jack with it till it fell apart. He awoke, ate the cake and asked for more. I just don't know what to call them."
"Call them griddle cakes, or pan cakes, or even Slap-Jacks. I don't care just get to fixin' more, Moe"
2 comments:
ha awesome. I should make everybody write a pancake story
Man
I love this Bruce. I like the whole thing right down to the punchline and the bit about Ms. Pawley. Serriously clever and good narative.
Randy
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