Is there an area of my life that is not, at its core, about the food?
I don't know why we, as a team, are such Cheese Guys, but our post-practice get-togethers are often blessed with artisanal and imported cheeses which we discuss at great length and consume in great quantity. I hadn't considered this of note until Russ pointed out last year that being a Braggart has introduced him to the world of fine cheeses. Really? I said, since Russ had been a full and happy participant in all our cheese journeys, without a hint of hesitation or wince. Andy jumped in with agreement and said that before the Braggarts he knew of only three kinds of cheese: yellow, white, and squeeze.
I've got some nice unopened Boucheron at home, and some excellent cave-aged Gruyere, but maybe I'll pick up something else today. I can get decent cheese at the fancy supermarket in the suburbs where I work, but if I want to bring some pate I may have to stop at Surdyk's on the way tonight to The Land of Liberty, Peace, and Plenty which is the private pub Bob maintains in his basement. Also, Michael is very fond of the non-traditional but very yummy Huntsman, which is sort of a sandwich of Stilton and Double Gloucester. We as a traditional British Morris team do love our English cheeses.
The cheeses are a side thing for me, though, since the real expectation is that I will bring guacamole, which was decreed a tradition at important Braggarts events the very first time I made it. When a few of us were discussing where and when to have the team meeting this year I said that we could have it at Bob's and that I would bring enough guacamole for Michael to eat as much as he wanted without worrying that he was pilfering somebody else's share (a state he claims never to have found himself in). "I'd like to see the size of that bowl," said Douglas. "So do you mean a bowl for Michael, and a bowl for the rest of the team?" asked Bob.
Uh, oh, I thought, what have I agreed to? So last night I spent well over an hour chop chop chopping tomatoes, mince mince mincing peppers and onion and garlic, squeezing out some limes, hacking away at cilantro, and scooping the flesh from nearly a dozen avocados. A giant bowl filled with guacamole now sits in my refrigerator, a bowl so heavy I can barely carry it comfortably. As I was cleaning up, Stephen Parker came down to give me a slice of an interesting Mexican chocolate cake he had attempted for the first time, and when I took out the bowl to show him that I was trying to make enough guacamole for Michael his eyes opened wide and he said, "That's enough guacamole for me!"
So we'll see.