Last night, I made a lovely, Manhattan-style clam chowder. That is, I made a version of it, as it struck me to make it yesterday. The family ranted and raved about it, and I fully expect to make that recipe again. There was enough that we all had a good-sized bowl full, I had a second helping, and Jenni took what was left for lunch today.
Although I love to cook delicacies for my friends and family, I’m simply too cheap to feed myself well for lunch. I bought a box of off-brand pizza pockets that I’ve been nursing for several weeks now (when I even bother to eat lunch). If I don’t nuke them for a full two minutes, they’re still cold in the middle. When they reach the two-minute mark, they vomit some of their filling out the ends. These things are so terrible that they can’t stand themselves!
The crust is hard and dry at the edges, and tough and doughy in the middle. The filling is an unidentifiable, homogeneous mixture of something tomato-paste-like and something cheese-like. There are random globs of something that I choose to believe is sausage interspersed through this solution. And then, there is some kind of mystery grease that floats on top of the goo that remains nuclear hot even after everything else has cooled. This grease refuses to stay in the pocket, and erupts onto my fingers and chin like some kind of trans-fat volcano on a hellish, artificial food planet.
Yummy. The really sad part is that it would be easy enough to deliberately make enough food in the evenings that there would be enough leftovers for both of us to take to work. And, I know that Jenni would gladly send the leftovers to work with me instead of taking them herself, but for whatever reason, I’d prefer that she got that, and I seem to stay perfectly happy eating my mystery pizza pockets.
For a time, I made it a point to take myself out to lunch at least once a week. I’m just not one of those people that can do that every day. At six to eight bucks a plate, five days a week, fifty-two weeks a year, that comes out to $1,820.00! I simply refuse to pay eighteen-hundred dollars for lunch in a year! The one outing a week arrangement is way easier for me to justify. But, I’ve fallen out of that habit for some reason, and I’m really not sure why. I really should give some more thought to bringing leftovers. It would certainly be better than my cardboard pizza thingies.