Things They Don't Show You on "The Bachelor"
I don't cook. Sure, earlier in my post-collegiate life, finances and a shorter commute (and perhaps youthful enthusiasm) had me attempting to prepare simple dinners: pasta, boneless chicken breasts, frozen hamburger patties, etc.
That's all fallen by the wayside. These days I eat out, or take-out, or order-in.
But once or twice a year, it occurs to me—I should have a fallback plan. For those nights I get home after my regular places are closed. Or I'm stuck inside due to illness or snowstorm. (This ain't Topanga.) And I shouldn't be eating out every night. It's expensive. It's not healthy.
And that's when I buy a box of Cheerios.
Milk, you need milk with Cheerios, right? I'm trying to be health-conscious here, so I like to buy the no-fat variety. Now, we all mocked the first George Bush when he appeared to be in awe of a supermarket price scanner. But I have to sympathize with the guy, because I don't spend a hell of a lot of time grocery shopping, either. So, I have to spend a few minutes looking at the different milk cartons available: sizes, brands, fat content, etc.
I spied what appeared to be magic milk. It was organic, 0% fat, and made by the fine people at Stonyfield Farm (who I have a soft spot for, as they once sponsored a music event I emceed). Most importantly: IT DIDN'T EXPIRE FOR TWO MONTHS. Perfect for my "ramblin' man" lifestyle!
I brought it home and had two bowls of Cheerios. I could feel my cholesterol plummeting as I sat there in front of the TV, with a chair as a table. The meal was such a success, I repeated the experiment the following night.
However, my on-the-go, never-a-dull-moment existence prevented me from returning to the Cheerios (stored in the refrigerator, to discourage insects and rodents) for a solid week and a half. On that evening, I arranged a place setting on my favorite chair, and poured a full bowl. I then fetched the milk and unscrewed the high-tech spout. And though I'm no epicure, I do recognize the stench of spoiled milk.
How could this be? I looked once again at the date stamped on the container. Sure enough, I still had 6+ weeks left. What gives? I read all the text on the packaging until I found these two damning sentences:
This wholesome fat free milk is ultra-pasteurized so it will last longer unopened. Once opened, consume within seven days.
They had me dead to rights. I sadly poured the entire half-gallon (minus four bowls' worth) down the drain of my kitchen sink. With my hands as a crude funnel, I emptied the bowl of Cheerios back into its box, ignoring the debunking of the Five-Second Rule for the many O's which landed on the floor.
And I ordered a pizza.
That's all fallen by the wayside. These days I eat out, or take-out, or order-in.
But once or twice a year, it occurs to me—I should have a fallback plan. For those nights I get home after my regular places are closed. Or I'm stuck inside due to illness or snowstorm. (This ain't Topanga.) And I shouldn't be eating out every night. It's expensive. It's not healthy.
And that's when I buy a box of Cheerios.
Milk, you need milk with Cheerios, right? I'm trying to be health-conscious here, so I like to buy the no-fat variety. Now, we all mocked the first George Bush when he appeared to be in awe of a supermarket price scanner. But I have to sympathize with the guy, because I don't spend a hell of a lot of time grocery shopping, either. So, I have to spend a few minutes looking at the different milk cartons available: sizes, brands, fat content, etc.
I spied what appeared to be magic milk. It was organic, 0% fat, and made by the fine people at Stonyfield Farm (who I have a soft spot for, as they once sponsored a music event I emceed). Most importantly: IT DIDN'T EXPIRE FOR TWO MONTHS. Perfect for my "ramblin' man" lifestyle!
I brought it home and had two bowls of Cheerios. I could feel my cholesterol plummeting as I sat there in front of the TV, with a chair as a table. The meal was such a success, I repeated the experiment the following night.
However, my on-the-go, never-a-dull-moment existence prevented me from returning to the Cheerios (stored in the refrigerator, to discourage insects and rodents) for a solid week and a half. On that evening, I arranged a place setting on my favorite chair, and poured a full bowl. I then fetched the milk and unscrewed the high-tech spout. And though I'm no epicure, I do recognize the stench of spoiled milk.
How could this be? I looked once again at the date stamped on the container. Sure enough, I still had 6+ weeks left. What gives? I read all the text on the packaging until I found these two damning sentences:
This wholesome fat free milk is ultra-pasteurized so it will last longer unopened. Once opened, consume within seven days.
They had me dead to rights. I sadly poured the entire half-gallon (minus four bowls' worth) down the drain of my kitchen sink. With my hands as a crude funnel, I emptied the bowl of Cheerios back into its box, ignoring the debunking of the Five-Second Rule for the many O's which landed on the floor.
And I ordered a pizza.
Labels: breakfast cereal, milk, the bachelor life
posted by Jack Silbert at
9:33 AM
7 Comments:
Good thinking! Depending on size, toppings, etc., that pizza could solve your problem for the next three nights!
Have you considered powdered milk? It's not half bad.
I have to go shopping again? Sigh.
Also, the expiration dates on meat apply only when they're in the super-cold supermarket fridges. Once you get them home, you gotta use them much sooner than the date stamped on the front.
I <3 Cheerios. I have a recipe for Cheerio chicken if you're interested in revisiting your cooking years.
If powdered milk isn't half bad, does that also mean it is half bad?
No, I'd think that means that at most, it is 49.9% bad.
I've used powdered milk here on occasion. It works for cereal.
That said, I'd like to comment on Frank's household. They are such cereal fanatics that they leave the milk out on the counter, for hours, because they know they just might have a second bowl of cereal, or a third, and then they actually do.
Post a Comment
<< Home