Sunday, January 22, 2012
Nails for Breakfast, Tacks for Snacks
I made the mistake - and should have known better than - to post something about going to it on Facebook. The knowing better should have come from my "friends" who immediately chimed in:
"So, it's an irony thing?" or
Anyway...........we were invited to one such breakfast a few months ago and accepted, but at the last minute we had a family conflict and had to cancel. Speaking to some of our other neighbors, they were mock-miffed that they weren't invited this year and that maybe they fell off the "A-list".
A-list? This year?
You mean we've lived here for six and one-half years, and have never been invited before? Sheeesh! Forget the A, B or C-list, we were more like on the T-list. We still live in a class system.
As it turns out, our neighbor man must have at least two of these per Winter. He left a message with 710 saying since we missed the last one, we could pick the date of the next one. That date was yesterday.
Mind you, I was skeptical of the b'fast anyways. It is not because of the company, but the actual food. Scottish Steel Cut Oats? I'm not an oatmeal fan. But of course, it gets worse.
When speaking to the earlier mentioned neighbors, they discussed the use of buttermilk and marmite in the oatmeal. When the tag-line for marmite is "love it or hate it", it doesn't take a rocket scientist to know on which side I will fall. It is fermented yeast, for pete's sake.
It doesn't help matters when things are added to the oatmeal such as raisins, cherries, cranberries, apricots and (blech) dates. If you wanted sweetener, you expect brown sugar, but you got maple syrup.
As Becca says, things are not as good as you'd expect or as bad as you anticipate. Yes, the oatmeal had the consistency and taste of wallpaper paste (well, what I'd imagine wallpaper taste to taste like). I actually searched out the fruit to get any kind of sweetness in each bite, save the dates. I picked around the dates. Even the maple syrup did not help sweeten the deal.
Oh, and there was homemade coffee cake. With nuts. I do not like nuts in food. That's just wrong.
But really, it was not about the food, it was about the company - and that was very very nice.
Apparently the invite list gets somewhat rotated, so those who were there in December were not this time, yet it was a good group of folks. No to brag, but I was the youngest there.
And while it is a men's breakfast, the host's wife did show up for the last half-hour. And their grown-up daughter, who still lives with them (cough cough - 45 years old...) was there, but upstairs and traipsing through the house now and again. But mostly it was us eight men.
There was very little work discussion. We focused on art, medicine, civic endeavors and since it was the South Carolina primary, politics.
Overall, we live in a fairly liberal community, still the discourse was fairly unanimous on topics of Super PACs, the IQ, or lack thereof, of Rick Perry and gall of Newt. When you get that many people together, you expect some dissension, yet there was none. At least there was a lot of laughter.
Two hours flew by. It may have gone on longer, but we had to excuse ourselves for another appointment. That seemed to get the rest to their feet and we all walked out together.
I have little doubt we will be invited back to another go-round, be it a few months from now, or a year. Even our neighbors were not aware of multiple gatherings, so no one truly knows the frequency of the events.
But between now and then, I need to find a way to enjoy oatmeal.
Song by: Panic! at the Disco