When I make or order a sandwich, it's always pretty plain. I'm perfectly happy with just mayo, mustard (or no mustard), turkey, and bread. I'm also happy with turkey and cream cheese and bread. you get the picture. Not a lot of extra junk to fuck up a perfectly good sandwich. Same goes for salads, lettuce or otherwise. Tuna is good with just mayo, or with mayo and sweet pickles. I cannot stress enough that tuna salad is NEVER good with extra crap like celery or dill or some other bullshit thing people throw into a bowl to fuck things up and call it "fancy."
The same goes for egg salad and potato salad. Add celery or dill, and I will kick you as hard as I can. There's just no excuse for that sort of desecration of something that is perfectly good without your old family recipe. It should have been buried along with whoever came up with it.
That said, a few years ago, a coworker brought in the most delicious egg salad I have ever tried. There was an extra ingredient in it that I can't remember. I can remember most of the phone numbers of my friends in elementary school, but I can't remember a simple addition to egg salad a couple of years ago. That coworker was even nice enough to bring in an extra bowl of the egg salad just for me the next day. It wasn't ham. It might have been bacon bits, olives, or even pickles or potato chunks. The other day I e-mailed that coworker to ask about the egg salad. She doesn't remember it at all, and even doubted that it was HER egg salad I enjoyed so much. I know it was her, as her roommate and sister Martha was the one who made it.
It's going to take a lot of experimentation to figure this out. I won't rest easy until I re-create the best egg salad in the universe.
The fucked up thing is, I , like everyone else, am sick with this horrible flu thing that requires much vomiting for days on end. Egg salad is about the last thing I should be obsessing about. But there you are. And here I am, obsessing about egg salad, and cautiously looking at my glass of water, wondering if I can keep down a few sips of it.
In other news, I spilled a bunch of water this evening. I put a big towel down to mop it up, and my cat must think it's his mother. He immediately started rolling over on it and purring. Now, he's sleeping on it, completely upside down.
I suppose, when you're a cat, you make your own fun.
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If you don't find me funny, I don't care. Get in line to eat me. If you read something here and disagree, get in line to eat me. If you are Jeff Renner's sweaters, it isn't personal. You, as sweaters, do not have to eat me at all. Jeff Renner, however, who gives the longest weather reports I have ever seen, needs to get in line to eat me. There is a line, and it forms to my left.
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