[Everyone got cabin fever during the blizzard that buried the city on Saturday, but Meredith Graves literally got cabin fever as she was snowed in while staying in, well, a cabin. For this special Recipe for Disaster dispatch, Meredith lost her mind while doing research for her column and cooking for her bandmates somewhere in the Poconos. Silliness abounds. Bon appetit. Or “boat scrap some bleat.”]
Cabin report, Day 5: At first, the snow was pretty. Falling, like snow does, in big flakes. Then the snow, much like snow, began to fall more. Then, more snow. Before I knew it, I’d run out of ways to write about snow. Jonas, the worst Jonas brother, began to take its toll.
I’ve finally eaten the last of my bandmates (all four of them in one day, but I have PMS and I’m really hungry — and just you wait for my Bandmate Bourguignon recipe this Thursday!). I’ve gutted some sort of bear-Tauntaun hybrid and am currently on overstock.com ordering imitation midcentury furniture and culturally appropriative duvets. Compared to Fort Greene, this place is a steal. I eagerly await my Oscar.
Before the storm began to wear on me, I was holed up in a beautiful cabin in the Poconos, watching episodes of The French Chef that a kind soul uploaded to YouTube. So many, in fact, that I began to price out a realistic Julia Child portrait tattoo (and wondered if a full backpiece would make boning weird— bon appetit!).
If you know me, you know that I can’t watch anything without the closed captions on: I interpret information much easier when I can read it in addition to hearing it, given that I seem to miss about 70% of social cues and often require third-party intervention when sending text messages. It turns out that, with some exceptions, the closed captioning system on YouTube is “auto-generated,” meaning a robot does it for you. (I’m imagining a Johnny 5-type spare-parts-lookin’ thing locked away in a closet somewhere at YTHQ furiously typing out captions for “Numa Numa.”)
And it also turns out that Julia Child’s infamous voice is way too amazing for that poor robot to understand.
Thus, I bring you: Robots Trying To Close-Caption The French Chef.
Some parts of your body are off-limits when deep-frying potatoes.
Unsurprisingly, Bloomberg’s whites don’t want to be held accountable.
… Before or after you start cooking?
Stasi was a great band.
Huhuh. She said jerking, Beavis.
This one made me laugh so hard I cried.
I’ll take the clone.
How can you mix them up? There’s only one, and Alan Vega fronts it.
For when your youth and broccoli are jerking.
Which part of the fish is the phillips again?
“This is Truly A Child, here on The Fred Shaft!”
More:Recipe For Disaster