My reputation for crimes against cooking precedes me, as I recently discovered that my name is on the FBI’s No Fry List. Whenever checking out at the supermarket, I’m dragged out of line, patted down, and then interrogated in the meat locker.
The evidence of my atrocity is displayed in the above crime scene photo taken shortly after I murdered a pot of sauce. There will be no services held for the sauce, as it was cremated at the time of death, which was Wed, Jan 21 @ 7 p.m. EST. Please send flowers and condolence notes to Ragu.
The Prosecution’s charges against me:
Leaving the scene of the crime:
I ran from the room while the sauce slowly burned.
I recklessly endangered the life of the sauce before leaving it to die.
I unintentionally scorched the sauce beyond recognition. It had to be identified by the label.
I grabbed the Ragu from the shelf while it stood among seven sauce siblings.
I slaughtered the sauce with a black market burner I purchased over the state line.
Currently, I am under house arrest and have been ordered to remain at least thirty-feet away from the kitchen.
In a previous post entitled Cook’s Crypt, I wrote about the evil that lurks in my kitchen and how my kitchen has it in for me. (The sauce also had it coming!) So, naturally I can’t help but wonder if there are other culinary dysfunctional people like me. Please indulge me by stating who you are and how you’d answer the following question.
Do you prefer to make sauce or to get sauced?