Wait, don't eat that, yet

My parents didn’t get a microwave until I went away for college, and only then did the appliance enter the house because a neighbor was moving and offered it to them for free. I would send them emails saying things like, Hi parents, doing well at school, P.S. remember, you shouldn’t put styrofoam in the microwave, or studying hard for a psych exam, and did you remember to take the metal spoon out of the mug before your reheated your coffee this morning? I was worried, and though no one has burned down the house yet, I stand by my anti-microwave campaign. I use the microwave only to defrost meat when I forget to take it out of the freezer in advance of dinnertime. Tea gone cold? I’d rather drink it tepid, thank you very much. And I know this makes me a bit of a snob, especially since I often turn up my nose at my own father’s lunch that is frequently “cooked” entirely in that wicked appliance. Today’s lunch entrée, however, officially sealed the deal for me when the two hotdogs my father microwaved exploded, turning themselves inside out in the most uncomfortable looking fashion. And then I documented it.

On that note, I would like to take this opportunity to say, first of all, throw out your microwave. But also, thank you to my friends and family who have tolerated my incessant photographing of their food. When we go out to eat, no one is allowed to touch a plate until I have deemed the photographs adequate (you may have noticed that many photos feature Zach’s torso as he patiently waits for the torture to end). This habit elicits a lot of stares from other diners, and some sympathetic shrugs in the direction of my dining partner who usually appears to be suffering severely while I adjust the angle of the garnish on his/her plate. And my parents tolerate the delay at home rather kindly too, only rolling their eyes once when I ask everyone to get up from the dining room table mid meal because they’re casting shadows that are ruining the shot. But my father raised the bar today. This afternoon, after sitting down to the mutilated hotdog lunch and an unapologetic “Ewww, what happened?” from his daughter, he was then kind enough to humor me further by delaying digging in until I had found my camera, adding insult to injury by not only telling him, repeatedly, how unappealing his meal looked, but then documenting this, the worst meal I had ever seen. I would post the photographs, but seriously, they’re too much, even for the internet. Phallic puns need not apply, the photos have it covered, and in the most unappealing way. I was assured that if you didn’t look directly at it, the meal was quite tasty. Since I do like to look at my food, I opted for a salad, no microwaving required.