om nom nom nom

Fun With Unidentified Seasonal Fruit

The human male has come home from doing the marketing with a surprise for the female. And here it is. It’s a… It’s a…

quince1

I have no idea what it is.

Sigyn, is that anything you recognize? It looks like an apple, a pear, and a lemon had too much to drink and this was the sad  result. It’s hard as a brick, too, isn’t it?

quince2

Volstagg’s straining waiscoat buttons! Look at the arse on that thing!

I have a hard time believing that this is actually supposed to be edible. Surely this is a Joke Fruit. I don’t trust it. Nope, Not. At. All.

The human female says this is something that isn’t meant to be eaten raw.  She’s whacked it into pieces with extreme prejudice and no finesse, and now she’s got the pieces simmering with sugar in a saucepan.

quince3

Careful, dearest!  Don’t fall in!

Hmmm. I detect a hint of dessertification happening here.  The human female has added apples, sugar, spices, and a little corn starch.

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Sigyn approves of sugar and spices.  If allowed, I believe she would wallow.

(later) The human female chucked the whole mess onto a crust in a pie plate. I “helped” her roll out the top crust. Oopsie. She cut out some pastry stars to cover up the giant tear.  It’s been baking for a while now, and it smells as if it might be done.

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Oh, yeah. Those stars are totally disguising your failure.

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Angry Food

Aside from the orange-cranberry braggy bafflement, the humans frequently tire of their own cooking (not a surprise–I recently saw in the freezer a package labeled “turkey meatloaf–needs help“) and therefore usually take advantage of the fact that this university town, between semesters, empties like a room in which someone has just asked for a volunteer to clean the privy.  It is then actually possible to drive, park, and dine out.

So we recently visited an establishment with the somewhat inauspicious name of “Mad Taco.”  The artwork on their menu is an…interesting blend of the flowery and the macabre.

mad-taco-menu3.jpg

Sigyn contemplated ordering something fungus-based.

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My thought was that “jerk” chicken would be perfect for the human female.

mad-taco-menu

It’s like they knew she was coming.

Great Frigga’s hairpins!  It was noisy in there!  I think there is a mortal law that decrees all taco restaurants must adhere to minimum decibel requirements or lose their license.

The humans elected to start with a creamy poblano pepper soup.

mad-taco-soup

I urged caution upon my dearest.  It smelled tasty, but it had the look of something that would not come out in the wash.

The human male settled for an ahi tuna dish, and the female chose some beef.  Wimp that she is, she asked them to leave off the chili oil.

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There was also a mahi taco in play.

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I do not know what a “mahi” is–and who could tell, under all that greenery?

Judging from the little moany noises she made, though, I’d say she liked it.

We then were caught by a divine aroma.  The waitress brought something else!

mad-taco-fries

Fries with garlic, parsley, and cotija cheese!  I was glad I had my dagger, so I could defend to the death my rightful share of these.  I let Sigyn have some, but the humans went home with bloody fingers.

Om nom nom nom.  Sleipnir’s fetlocks!  The waitress says that a second location is going to be constructed very near the humans’ house.  How convenient that will be for the humans!  How convenient for me that I can magically extend the waistband of my clothes at will…

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