Chet's Cheap Grub Grill --Food Frivolity and Adventure Stories
Wednesday
Episode 8 -- Chet on the Lam -- French Toast in France -- The Brown Helmet Paradox
Chet Hides Out
I had gone through the 5000 Euros I had scammed from Deveroux like a Joe Weider enema. My bill at the Hotel Le-Bruno had dipped into the red zone and the maids had quit changing the linens. Fortunately Rene the kitchen boy, who had been delivering my inroom meals, had taken a liking to my Jerry Lewis impressions (LAYYYDEEE!!) and my decent mime routine. He had arranged a job for me at an orphanage run by the Sisters of Burgundy at a little village called Bligny-sur-Ouche. My duties included milking cows, gathering eggs and cleaning the pig pens. I lived in a small thatched hut adjacent to the barn. Life was simple, the air clean and the french toast (pain perdu) was not of this world. One morning while in the middle of shoveling pig merde, I made the mistake of not securing the gate on the retaining corral that the pigs were herded into while the pens were cleaned. Suddenly with no warning, I was knocked to the ground by a 500 pound sow with eatin' on her mind. One of the orphans, Gaston, who just happened by, clunked the momma pig in the head with the business end of a shovel. It dazed the animal long enough for me to scramble to safety. Gaston explained to me that pigs have actually killed and eaten human beings and how lucky I was that he had happened by when he did. Sacre Blu!! Time passed quickly and I had begun to think about how I was going to get back to the good old U S of A. A loud banging on my door brought me out of the reverie. I jerked open the door. It was Gaston. "Monsieur Chet! Rene called and said you are in great danger. A man named Deveroux is headed here...to do you harm. Rene said to tell you he is sorry but...Deveroux beat him very badly. He had to tell him. You don't have much time!"
"Gaston, I need your help," I said. "Will you help me? It will be dangerous for you." ---TO BE CONTINUED
Frenchie Toast (Pain Perdu):
Ingrediments:
French Bread is best or Texas Toast is ok too.
Eggs
Butter
Oil
Aunt Jemima Syrup
Schilling Vanilla Extract
McCormick Cinnamon
Utenseels:
Skillet
Spatula
Bowl
Fork
Rawlings six-fingered Trapeze mitt circa 1964 and a twenty foot piece of opaque tubing (optional)
Lets Cook:
Cut the bread into two inch slices. Whip the eggs in the bowl with the fork until frothy. Add a little vanilla and mix. Pour the egg mixture onto a plate. Heat a quarter cube of butter and a little oil in the skillet. Dip the bread into egg mix. Important -- Dip both sides of bread. Flop bread into skillet and cook until golden brown on one side and slightly golden brown on the other. Serve it up. Can eat for dinner. Try some peanut butter on it. Good.
I had gone through the 5000 Euros I had scammed from Deveroux like a Joe Weider enema. My bill at the Hotel Le-Bruno had dipped into the red zone and the maids had quit changing the linens. Fortunately Rene the kitchen boy, who had been delivering my inroom meals, had taken a liking to my Jerry Lewis impressions (LAYYYDEEE!!) and my decent mime routine. He had arranged a job for me at an orphanage run by the Sisters of Burgundy at a little village called Bligny-sur-Ouche. My duties included milking cows, gathering eggs and cleaning the pig pens. I lived in a small thatched hut adjacent to the barn. Life was simple, the air clean and the french toast (pain perdu) was not of this world. One morning while in the middle of shoveling pig merde, I made the mistake of not securing the gate on the retaining corral that the pigs were herded into while the pens were cleaned. Suddenly with no warning, I was knocked to the ground by a 500 pound sow with eatin' on her mind. One of the orphans, Gaston, who just happened by, clunked the momma pig in the head with the business end of a shovel. It dazed the animal long enough for me to scramble to safety. Gaston explained to me that pigs have actually killed and eaten human beings and how lucky I was that he had happened by when he did. Sacre Blu!! Time passed quickly and I had begun to think about how I was going to get back to the good old U S of A. A loud banging on my door brought me out of the reverie. I jerked open the door. It was Gaston. "Monsieur Chet! Rene called and said you are in great danger. A man named Deveroux is headed here...to do you harm. Rene said to tell you he is sorry but...Deveroux beat him very badly. He had to tell him. You don't have much time!"
"Gaston, I need your help," I said. "Will you help me? It will be dangerous for you." ---TO BE CONTINUED
Frenchie Toast (Pain Perdu):
Ingrediments:
French Bread is best or Texas Toast is ok too.
Eggs
Butter
Oil
Aunt Jemima Syrup
Schilling Vanilla Extract
McCormick Cinnamon
Utenseels:
Skillet
Spatula
Bowl
Fork
Rawlings six-fingered Trapeze mitt circa 1964 and a twenty foot piece of opaque tubing (optional)
Lets Cook:
Cut the bread into two inch slices. Whip the eggs in the bowl with the fork until frothy. Add a little vanilla and mix. Pour the egg mixture onto a plate. Heat a quarter cube of butter and a little oil in the skillet. Dip the bread into egg mix. Important -- Dip both sides of bread. Flop bread into skillet and cook until golden brown on one side and slightly golden brown on the other. Serve it up. Can eat for dinner. Try some peanut butter on it. Good.
Increase Your Word Power:
brown helmet (broun hel'mit) noun phrase [arc. 1960's] 1.The act of being crapped on by your date(not getting to first base, going home right after the movie, no chance for a second date) or not being able to get a date after many tries. ex- "Home already Joel? I thought you had a date?" "She gave me the brown helmet." 2. A protective head covering colored brown
You Heard It Here:
Golf courses in Scottsdale, AZ supply salt licks for golfers in the months of July and August. (quote by Paul Chadwell.)
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