om nom nom nom

Tôi mệt mỏi với việc nấu ăn của người phụ nữ. Hãy để chúng tôi thử một nhà hàng mới.

There is only so much of the human female’s cooking I can take.  I think the human male feels the same way, because he suggested we get take-out tonight.  Oh, he says its by way of “supporting local businesses” and “helping the economy,” but I am fairly certain he’s just bored with her culinary efforts.

He went online and pulled up the menu for a Vietnamese place we have not tried yet.  He put in a varied order and went to fetch it.  He should be home at any moment.

And here it is!  What did we get?  What did we get?


There could be anything in there.  It’s not moving, so I guess that’s good.

Hmm.  Styrofoam.  Still could be anything.


Aha!  Actual food.  Shrimp spring rolls with what is looks and smells like peanut sauce.


It’s hot out today, so it’s nice to have something cold.

And this is…


I don’t know what.  There’s a cut-up egg roll, some meat, some pickled vegetables, what looks like rice noodles, and some little fried-ish things on top.  And a plastic container of…  It’s the right color for motor oil, but I rather suspect it isn’t.

Ehehehe.  The human female, well aware of her innate clumsiness, has decided that she needs something larger than the styrofoam container to mix the the food and the sauce in.

She has invoked a mixing bowl!  It makes it looks as if she’s prepared to inhale a whole trough full!


Go ahead and muddle along with your sticks, mortal.  I’ve got a fork and can eat faster than you!

>|: [

I’m Just Saving Her, Really

The human female is trying to cut back on sugar.  Woman, your sad delusion that this will somehow render you somewhat less elephantine is laughable.  You don’t stand a chance with me in the house.  Have you not realized this yet?

Not when I put in your path “healthy” juice drinks like this one:


“No added sugars!”  True.  Very true.  But she had made a good start on the bottle before she read the back of the label:


And she had to drink it, because her boss and treated her and Prep Staff to a beverage at the local POOC* , and not drinking it would have been rude.

What?  Reader, you think me cruel for hoodwinking her and sabotaging her efforts to be healthier?  

Very well.  I was going to let her have a little treat because she has been trying.  I was going to let her have this interesting foreign lolly.  Doesn’t it look delicious?  Not one, but two flavors—and vitamins to boot!


Mmm.  Orange AND lemon.  But you’re right, minions.  You’re right.  I shouldn’t be putting sugar in her way.  To save her from herself, Sigyn and I will take care of this.

Come, my love.  Do you fancy one flavor over the other, or do you want to take turns licking both sides?

>|: [

*Purveyor of Overpriced Coffee


A New Yule Tradition–Day Four: Gastronomic Goodies

One of the best parts of being away from home for Yule is the distinct lack of the human female’s cooking.  Not that she can’t come up with usually-edible victuals, but by the crumbs in Volstagg’ beard, that woman cannot cook without making a horrific mess!  She never finishes meal preparation without the kitchen looking like Ragnarok has occurred. Not that I feel any particular guilt about skiving off without helping with the washing up, but I am weary unto death of manufacturing excuses not to.  Even I can run out of lies on occasion.

So, happy me and joyful Sigyn, we are sampling the very best this town has to offer by way of comestibles.

This little piggy went to market. This little piggy stayed home.  This little piggy had roast beef…


And the other two piggies were similarly made out of marzipan and I nommed them while no one was looking.

By Odin’s monocular vision!  Come here, Sigyn and look at this mold for cooking eggs!

funny egg makers

How’d you like that staring at you of a morning?  The pup is cute, too, and you’d get to eat the bacon that didn’t end up in the ears.  The idea is very clever, but I wonder if the actual results would be as perfect?  Never mind, though.   With my magic, I can make your morning eggs into any shape you please.

Oooo!  I have discovered the hoard of a lifetime!


These may be gold or they may be chocolate–either way, I win!

Look, Sigyn!  They made a drink just for me!

liquid rage

But I bet it’s false advertising.  I’ll wager my remaining uneaten chocolate gelt that it isn’t made with freshly-squeezed red pandas.


All of this wandering around and tasting and snacking on bits and pieces of things is making me cross and a little hangry for a real meal.


Yes, yes, Sigyn.  I see the chocolate “just for me.” Very funny.

Ah.  Sigyn has chosen where we shall have lunch today.

crepe hut

That looks like a splendid place to have lunch.  And it appears they have two free seats at the counter.  I could certainly wrap myself around a waffle or two, and a mug of hot cider would hit the spot perfectly.

And someone else will be doing the dishes.

>|: [

Now This is More Like It

I threw that horrific tofudibeest roast thingy in the human female’s shopping cart, knowing that she probably wouldn’t serve it for the Yule feast, but relishing the thrill of danger because there was always the chance that she’d call my bluff and serve up that abomination.

Fortunately, Sigyn and I may have been spared such a fate, for behold!  A Mysterious Package has arrived!


“Perishable” on a box at the human female’s work usually means oozy, woozy microbes, but on a house package, it often means EDIBLES.  And if I remember correctly, the humans received a box from this vendor last year, and it had the most amazing ham in it–so this is very promising!

Insulated foam container.  Lots of green air pillows.


Very, very promising!

Oh, Sigyn, look!  It’s a carnivore’s treasure trove!


Is there ham?  Is there ham?



Well, pork chops and BACON are just as good!


Mmmm. Canadian bacon, smoked beef, weiners, and summer sausage.

Farewell, tofurky!  New plan:  We warm this all up, have ourselves a proper gorge, and curl up in a carnivorous stupor.

This is shaping up into a very fine Yule indeed!

>|: 9

A Last Meal

Prisoners slated for execution are, in civilized societies, granted one final meal.

I’m not a prisoner, but tomorrow I will be trapped in the car with the humans as we travel back to the Boring House where the food is so-so at best, and where, no doubt, the Terror Twins have been alternately puking and shedding while a friend has been watching them in our absence.  A gruesome sentence, indeed.

So this, not counting tomorrow’s breakfast is, in a sense, a last meal. 

We who are about to die salute you with fried potatoes


I could eat all of these myself.  What are the rest of you going to have?

Sigyn is insisting I share.  Sigh.  Very well.  Just for you my love.


Roast pork, vegetables, braised cabbage, a homemade roll, and those lovely, lovely potatoes. And there is leftover pie.

I will miss this house, where even the placemats have pictures of food.

Now, I am not a praying man because hello?  Actual Norse god here, but if I could think of any deity with more power than me who was worth importuning, I would definitely ask him (or her!) to please let the human female be a better cook in the future.  We have tasted manna on this trip, and to be cast back down to the realm of the hum-drum and the blah feels like damnation indeed.

>|: [

There Are Meals and Then There Are *MEALS*

We are back in the car with hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of miles still to go.  Hey, humans!  Sigyn is hungry!  And the snacks you packed, while crunchy and salty, are not nutritious.  I demand we stop for sustenance!

Huginn and Muninn’s downy pinfeathers!  I meant a real meal, not some fast-food fiasco-in-a-bag!


Bleargh.  Looks like tunafish.  SMELLS like tunafish.


Sigyn is ready to dig in.  Possibly the spinach, tomatoes, and cucumber will be delicious, but I can never smell canned tuna without thinking of cat food…

Uh, oh!  The Cheetos have been breached.


Sometimes I think I need to tie a string around her ankle to drag her back out when she disappears into a bag of the things.

(the next day)

We arrived. We were fed. We went to bed and woke up again.  We were fed.  The human female’s mother seems to be in the running for Food-Pusher of the Year.  I’ve no objection:  I like to eat, and the woman is a great cook.

Great Frigga’s Hairpins!  It looks as if there is another meal in the offing!

The table is very festively set.  Look at all the blue and white china, Sigyn!


Sigyn thinks the china pattern is lovely.  I’m distracted by the mix-and-match salt and pepper shakers.


There is a turkey boat sailing in the middle of the table.


Sigyn thinks it’s a fine ride, but I’m squished in here among the corncobs, which is precisely zero fun.

Sigyn has abandoned the turkey boat in favor of the gravy boat.


Careful, my pet!  Falling in might be tasty, but I doubt gravy would be beneficial to your complexion.

Behold! The feast appears!  No baggy sandwiches here!


Clockwise from Sigyn:  mashed potatoes with gravy, spiced parsnips and carrots, asparagus, mashed sweet potatoes, cranberry sauce, turkey, pumpkin roll.

Not only is everything delicious, but parts of it are red and parts of it are green, so it is also chromatically aesthetic.

And is there pie?  I’ve heard there might be pie…

These Trips Get Shorter and Shorter, Part II: 餃‎: ‎ 間違いなく美味しい

There is one part of a jaunt to a Big City that I actually do like.  Any chance to enjoy a lunch that is not of the human female’s making is a real treat.  A visit to a different city affords a chance to dine at an establishment that does not consider peanut butter and jelly the pinnacle of lunchtime fare.

The human female has used her phone to locate an “interesting” place to eat.



Some of the menu options look quite tasty.


Sigyn is seduced by all the colorful photos.


Don’t do it, Sigyn!  It’s raw fish.

We have ordered, and the food is about to arrive.  Oh, no…  I forgot that this sort of food means eating with sticks.


But the chicken tempura looks amazing.


And I could easily eat this whole boat-dish of gyoza by myself.


The main course comes with a salad.


Sigyn approves of the ginger dressing.  It does smell good.

The human female is is even more boring than usual today.  Teriyaki chicken!  She has no imagination.


The male has ordered a curry, which is somewhat more adventurous.


I will let the others eat all this up.  I’m heading back to the kitchen to see if there are more of those dumplings…

>|: [

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…


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?


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.


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.


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.


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

>|: [