A winter of snow had just melted away, the weather was getting warmer every day, the Jays were putting the finishing touches on another great basketball season, and the Twins were still the three-time defending Central Division Champions when I closed on my house at the bank in March. I tell you this to set the timeline for this next story from my life.
A month later, for my birthday, I went and did what any good bachelor does: purchased a ready-made meal and brought it home. A big pre-cooked turkey, a big container of mashed potatoes, and a smaller container of gravy. Oh man, I can still taste how good that was. Good times.
Anyway, as I was heating -- it was already cooked -- the turkey, I placed the plastic gravy container on my "warming" spot on my stovetop, which conceivably heats to a lesser temperature to keep already hot stuff warm without burning it. Problem was, as I soon discovered, the plastic containers had a lower melting point than the already low temperature warming spot. You can guess what happened.
Yep, the container disintegrated, and gravy went everywhere. Good times!
***
So after the meal, unable to use the disposable container to save the leftover gravy for the next day's Big Feast Part Deux!, I poured it into a cereal bowl, covered it in tin foil, and refrigerated it.
And there it sat until last night.
Seven months.
Do you even know what chicken gravy looks like seven months after it was prepared? Do you want to know?
--
I didn't forget about it. Well, that's not entirely true. The bowl sat on the bottom shelf of the fridge, and for most of the summer it WAS buried behind the three cases of beer that routinely fill my fridge. But about once a week I'd look at that bowl, say "Self, you really should pull that out and throw it away". But deep in my mind, I was sure of two things:
1 - I did NOT want to see what was growing in that bowl
2 - The bowl was likely ruined anyway, so I probably ought to just toss the whole thing and be done with it
Someday, I said. Someday I'll clean that guy out. In the meantime, the bowl sat there, mocking me. I hate it when inanimate objects mock me.
--
Last night became Someday. The cold weather spurred it on -- I'm home, can't go outside, and I needed something to amuse myself. The gravy bowl! Yes!
Folks, this is what happens when chicken gravy is covered, refrigerated and stored for SEVEN MONTHS after it was made: (warning, don't look if you're queasy or eating as you read this):
If Starburst is a Rainbow of Flavors, what exactly is this? Awesome, that's what.
A group shot with gravy's younger half-brother, empty Little Caesars Pizza Box.
Nice. I was surprised by several things. First off, it had formed to the shape of the bowl, much like Jell-O. Second, it was four distinct colors -- the original yellowish chicken gravy color, a series of black/brown spots, some green mold, and the always nasty spiderweb-esque white mold.
Much to my surprise and amusement, the now gelatinized gravy slid right out of the bowl with little prodding. Right into the In-Sink-Erator Garbage Disposal, where it was chewed up and disposed of.
Greeting its imminant demise with much gusto, the gelatinized gravy clung to its life precious on the membrane at the top of the disposal. It was rather heroic, actually, seeing it refuse to fall down into the chopping blades below.
After chanting "Lets Go Gravy!" and then clapping rhythmicly five times, and repeating the chant, I became angry at gravy for not dying. I uttered my favorite Austin Powers line ever, from the second movie where he's using the lady as a shield from bazookas and gunfire as he falls from a building window -- "Why won't you die?". So I helped gravy along with the help of my accomplice, Bigg Nife.
Bigg Nife and I celebrate with a devilish laugh. Good times!
Cool. Actually that's very awesome. This is exactly why I leave things like eggs and milk in my fridge for months. You never know what kind of unintentional humor can result when you actually get around to throwing it out!
Case in point, isn't it cool when milk sits so long after its expiration date that it turns into Cottage Cheese?
Or when eggs go rotten and turn into more colors than you can count?
Yes. Good times.
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