Friday, June 15, 2007

Earwigs and Onion Rings: What My Brain Does to Me

I’ve had a tune stuck in my head all morning long, and it’s pure torture.  I’m really hoping I can move it out of my brains and into the Ethernet by sharing it here, so here goes:

Froggy went a courting, he did shout oy vey, gevalt
Froggy went a-courting, he did shout oy vey, gevalt
Froggy went a-courting, he did shout
Anthropoid amphibian freaks me out, gevalt, oy vey

No dice.  Still lodged firmly in my thinkbone like a toothbrush shiv in Paris Hilton’s bony fist.  So instead I’ll mouth off, blog-wise, about the Sopranos finale.  And it doesn’t matter if you never watched a single episode, or if you memorized the damn thing and know every nuance and read every commentary on this significant, if not universally appreciated, moment of television – I have to share one point about that final scene.

For those who otherwise wouldn’t care, and there’s no spoilers here, the final scene takes place in a low-key diner.  The Soprano family sits down to supper and starts eating onion rings.  What do the onion rings mean?  I’ve read that they are an analogue to communion wafers, but for the love of a fried bulb, that just doesn’t make any sense at all.  I have my own theory, which might be best referenced by the song title “Zero to the Power of 10 (= Nothing at All)” (and anyone who doesn’t know that tune really is due a copy of Tull’s Minstrel in the Gallery, but that’s another story).  But who cares.

My point is, damn, those onion rings looked good.  It’s been a long time since I’ve had a plate of rings and I got a serious craving for them from watching Tony et al eat all of them.  So when I found myself overwhelmed with lunch options yesterday, I just naturally gravitated to the Ferry Building and Taylor’s Natural Refresher.  I waited ten minutes in line, and then fifteen minutes while my cheeboogi ‘n’ rings got fried up properly.  By the time I sat down with my lunch tray I was pretty much out of lunch-hour time and very much ready to chow down. 

So, here’s the thing: the burger was decent – not breathtaking, but good meat, well-cooked, reasonably garnished and possessed of adequate integrity (ie it didn’t collapse or disassemble as I ate it).  And the rings were also okay, a basket of a dozen or 15 good-sized circles of caramelized onion in beer batter and plenty of cooking erl.  The first three rings were really satisfying.  But then I went and ate the rest of them.  So long as they were in my mouth, everything was fine.  But as soon as I swallowed the last of them and stood up to leave, the regret began.  I was so laden with fried goo that I spent the rest of the afternoon wishing that I’d just resorted to my typical smoothie instead from City Kinetics just up my alley.  I felt greasy and gross till I fell asleep. 

The moral: The Sopranos may have been the best thing on television, or maybe it wasn’t; its finale may have been its finest hour or maybe it was a big rip-off.  However, onion rings are definitely better on television than they are in my belly.  Tonight I’m baking Tilapia and steaming some plantain and avocado, and maybe by the weekend I’ll feel like making pancakes for dad’s day.  But they’re fried, so I’m still on the fence.  However, it’s a deliciously maple-y fence, so I think I know which side I’m going to fall on....