The Untoppable Top RamenMay 25 '00 Write an essay on this topic.In the recesses of my apartment, hidden by the rubble that is my kitchen, I have drawers full of McDonald’s barbecue sauce as old as the Golden Arches and packets of soy sauce that I will one day bequeath to my unfortunate heirs. I also have a collection of thousands of takeout and delivery menus from New York, Salt Lake City, New Haven, San Jose, and Milan, all of which have survived my nomadic lifestyle and countless moves. I couldn’t tell you what a gallon of milk costs in any of those cities, but I know that two bacon egg and cheese sandwiches, a glazed donut, and a strawberry milkshake come to $5.88 after tax at the local diner. As for the health of my diet, I figure that if I keep eating regular doses of Hostess Cupcakes and Twinkies, following popular opinion, the preservatives should preserve me for indefinite periods of twenty years. With help from Hostess (a veritable fountain of youth), a dozen donuts and a six-pack of Coke, Cool Ranch Doritos and chocolate milk, and numerous shots of tequila followed by a handful of aspirin are all appropriate dinner combinations. Heck, I can eat raw hamburger meat, undercooked fish, and expired dairy products if need be. Salmonella and tapeworm would rue the day they tried to survive in my body. Obviously a devout health nut, I also make sure to eat all four food groups: Snickers, Hershey’s Miniatures in maximum proportions, and Whoppers (the malted milk balls) all have enough milk chocolate for the dairy; Whoppers (the BK burgers), beef jerky, and Wienershnitzel give me my meat and protein; onion rings, potato chips, and pumpkin pie are my veggies; Cherry Coke, caramel apples (though I usually toss the apple once the caramel is gone), and Flinstone fruit-flavored rainbow push-up pops give me more than enough fruit. When combined with my Flinstone vitamins and my regular sampling of orange-flavored children’s chewable Tylenol, my diet really becomes remarkable. Unfortunately, I’m often too poor for takeout, delivery, and junk-food filled 7-11 runs (read: when the student loan deferments have expired and I have run out of credit card balance transfers), and I am forced to cook for myself. When I attempt to cook, I burn rice, undercook and overcook pasta, and somehow my Pepperoni Pizza Hot Pockets always come out of the microwave either still frozen or so over-microwaved that the contents ooze out of the pocket, boiling all over the plate that I inevitably scald myself touching. I am forever burning the cranberry dessert that comes with Swanson’s Salisbury Steak Dinner, Minute Rice has taken me three years to master, and it seems that the toaster is always one setting too high. After recently burning two Eggo waffles, I decided to simplify things. I put aside the placemats, potato peelers, and paper towels. I stopped worrying about the salt shakers and the crepe and ice cream makers. I lost the can-openers, colanders, cutting boards, carving knives, and china. I sold the stemware and pawned the peppermills. I wasted the Waterford, dumped the decanter, and canned the carafe. I threw away the rolling pin and the candy tin. In a reduction and simplification of Occam proportions, I thus narrowed the kitchen must-haves to three: water, a pot, and Top Ramen. Ramen noodles are God’s gift to lazy, beer drinking bachelors who are confused by child-proof caps and don’t know the difference between broiling and baking, men who are convinced that any food tastes better with gobs of ketchup and mounds of salt. It is the only choice for men who want to save money for the finer things in life: a satellite dish, another twelve pack of High Life, or dollar bills for exotic dancers. To prepare an exquisite culinary delight, simply place the block of hardened Ramen noodles in a pot of boiling water (follow that-guy’s epinion advice on that one). By the time you get back from the bathroom and forget to wash your hands, the noodles will be ready. Dump the pack of seasoning in the pot, wait for the water to stop boiling, and enjoy. If the variety of flavors confuses you, remember that the shrimp, chicken, beef, and cajun ‘flavors’ of Top Ramen are merely descriptions that indicate the color of the water once the packet of sodium is added. To think that 23 cents will buy shrimp-flavored anything is as absurd as thinking McDonald’s Chicken McNuggets are actually made of chicken. If, while trying to save up the necessary bribe money for a trip home from Tijuana, you fail to pay your utility bill, do not despair. Just place the Top Ramen in cold water and wait for the noodles to get soggy. If you let the noodles sit too long, they begin to resemble the gelatin brains you see in every lame Haunted House. The taste, however, is pretty much the same. An alternative would be to eat the crunchy, raw noodles right out of the package. Extensive scientific research has proved that the noodles will expand when they reach your stomach, thus creating the desired illusion of a satisfying meal. Not using the sodium pack will also allow you to double up the next time you have company and need to add some spice to your meal. There’s only one obstacle left. Since you got rid of most of the contents of your kitchen, you might need a fork for the noodles and a spoon for the broth. Sure, you could just slurp away. Or you could take a trip to the local elementary school cafeteria, pick up a few plastic sporks and you’ll be ready to enjoy oodles of sodium-rich noodles for the rest of your life. Just discard the cookie cutter and the cupboard clutter. Ignore the pleas for home-grown peas. All you need is water and a pot for Top Ramen to hit the spot.  |
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