After our recent Battle of the Chefs fishing trip, I got to see Jackson’s finest in action. Dan, Andy, and Stephen were truly amazing as they competed against three of the Coast’s best chefs to cook our catch. Victor Pickich with Latitude 30, Stephen Coblentz with the Dock, and Blowfly’s Scott Weinburg comprised the coast’s team.
Of course I would have been impressed with much less, as I am somewhat cooking challenged. My repertoire of kitchen skills revolves around the microwave, I’m sorry to say, which probably means I can never be a great chef. In fact, now that I think about it, I’m not all that good with the microwave.
Early one morning a year or so ago, a friend called to tell me about a great deal on a sports car. I was so enthralled with the prospect of getting that car, my coffee got cold while we discussed the details. After hanging up the phone, I decided to warm my coffee in the microwave while gathering the courage to convince my wife that spending thousands on a vintage sports car made good investment sense.
Once the oven was humming, I imagined myself behind the wheel of this cool sports car and began drifting toward the office where my wife was busy paying bills. Halfway there, I remembered my coffee and started to return to the microwave, at which point I noticed I was holding my coffee cup in my hand. Of course, my next thought was, “If I’m holding my coffee cup, what’s in the microwave?”
I sprinted back to the microwave and punched open the door. Much to my horror, a black object lay on the bottom of the microwave behind a thick layer of smoke—I had nuked my cell phone instead of my coffee. I guess I was more preoccupied that I realized.
For those of you who have never microwaved your cell phone, I suggest that you DO NOT try it. Phones may be built to withstand casual moisture, being dropped, and even Mexican cheese dip (that’s another story), but they are NOT designed to be microwaved.
With a knot in my stomach I stood gazing at the device which, still in its black leather case, lay smoking on the turntable. After I finished beating my head against the wall, I figured it had cooled enough that I could pick it up. The truly amazing thing was that it still worked. Well sort of.
While struggling to accept the full impact of my momentous stupidity, I realized there was even more bad news. I had purchased this phone only a couple of weeks before, after my previous phone ended up at the bottom of the Palace Casino’s marina. (I recommend not placing your phone in a t-shirt pocket while loading supplies onto a boat.) But I digress…
I returned to my cell phone provider’s store, fully expecting to pay an obscene amount of money for yet another new phone. I am not proud of that fact that, once I was actually inside the store, I found myself reluctant to tell the 14 year-old sales clerk just exactly how stupid I am. So I neglected to mention all of the details surrounding the malfunctioning of my cell phone. I simply noted that it seemed not to be working properly which, in fact, was absolutely true. I then sent it away for warranty service per his recommendation.
After waiting for an email or telephone call saying “Really?”, I went to the mailbox less than a week later and there, in my mailbox was (drum roll) a new phone! Many times I have wondered what the technician thought when he examined my ‘malfunctioning’ phone. But for now, my recipe for a great cell phone dish is probably: skip the egg wash, skip the breadcrumbs and definitely skip the microwave.
Disclaimer: Frank Wilem is an author, speaker, and all around funny and entertaining guy. On this blog, his stories are based on his real life experiences, often with a satirical twist.
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