It stands alone … king of the domain, towering at nine inches tall. The behemoth. No one messes with this. No one tries to horn in on its territory, unless they want to feel the Wrath of Kahn. It’s a territorial thing, I guess.
I became aware of the King not too long ago, when we tried to replace it … well not even replace it, just add some variety, but we were dismissed with extreme prejudice. When it comes to chicks and their kitchen it’s all about control. Don’t get crazy with the suggestions.
Apparently, Mrs. Dash rules my mother’s pantry. Have you heard of Mrs. Dash? It’s the only spice, other than salt, that you will ever need on Earth. Not the small four or six-ounce jar either, but the Costco-sized-gargantuan-nuclear-bomb-shelter-21-ounce container. The kind an army cook uses to feed a platoon.
It’s a seasoning blend that provides you with a smorgasbord of spices great for anything and everything that flies, swims, or hangs out on a farm. According to my mom, it’s all you need.
During my temporary stay at my mom’s house, in addition to being the maid, dog walker, laundromat, dishwasher, personal shopper, accountant, and Dona of the house, I’d become the cook as well.
But regardless of my temporary standing as interim chef, every chick or kitchen dude, feels their kitchen is their kitchen, regardless how little they use it. Don’t mess with the Feng Shui of their kitchen. Don’t put the pots in the pan drawer, don’t unplug the blender, don’t move the cans around in the pantry so that they are grouped by size and the labels face you, don’t move the magnets on the fridge, and most importantly don’t rearrange, remove or add to their spices. You will be schooled … I was.
As I prepared arroz con pollo, I looked for some cumin and pepper in the pantry but found the ginormous container with the yellow label staring at me.
You got any cumin?
Mrs. Dash has it.
You got any pepper?
Don’t need it, Mrs. Dash has it.
What about garlic? I didn’t see any cloves or garlic powder?
I’ll tell you in Spanish because you don’t seem to understand … Lo tiene Mrs. Dash.
How are you just going to cook with one spice? What is that?
What about cayenne pepper?
LO TIENE MRS. DASH! Your sister’s husband loved my roasted chicken and steak. All I used was Mrs. Dash. He always said how delicious it was and that he wanted to get the recipe. He likes it.
Calm down. I just like a little variety, some depth … a little less zest.
Apparently it was bad enough that I brought pepper into the house a few weeks prior, I didn’t need to get all “diva” and bring in other additions to the kitchen. They weren’t necessary. This was the most awesome creation ever and I was frowned upon for even thinking to add to the spice rack. There could be only one king of the pantry, but I added the little four-ounce containers. They made guest appearances.
But when my dude brought in a 32 oz container of Pappy’s Choice Professional Pack Seasoning … you know the one that says, “You’re not happy, until you’ve had Pappy’s.”
Yeah…I’d never heard of it either.
Apparently they were giving samples of its flavorful potential at Costco and he had to have it. So Pappy’s made an attempt to creep into the pantry.
However it was outed.
Ques esto! What is this?
It’s Pappy’s … don’t you know? You’re not happy until you’ve had Pappy’s. It’s got no MSG and you can use it in Bloody Mary’s, too.
I was given the dirty look, followed by the questionable eyebrow raise and the hmph.
No matter how many times we used it and put it in the pantry, it would resurface on the counter, next to the toaster oven. It was given dirty looks, dropped on the floor accidentally on purpose, and segregated from the salt and Mrs. Dash. I thought my dude kept forgetting to put it back in the pantry, but that was not the case.
One morning I put it in the pantry, label facing me, behind the Mrs. Dash of course. Then my mother saw it … it’s presence slapping her in the chef face. She grabbed the container, opened the pouring spout, sniffed it, and then closed it. She placed it behind to the toaster, label facing the wall, away from me.
Apparently there was room for just one.