Home > Chef Oz: Inside the CIA > Archives > 2009 > May > 09 > Entry
I Mustard Up the Courage to Try Mayonnaise
Bad food puns have been part of my schtick since the first day I signed on as a “Cooking Coach” at the Wooded Acres HEB some ten years ago. That’s plenty of time to hone the repetoire of groaners many of you have come to expect of me. I’m particularly fond of pasta jokes. In my early days cooking in the kiosk kitchen, we would frequently serve a couscous recipe as a side to whatever chicken or fish item we happened to be pushing, and I discovered that hardly anybody actually knew what couscous was. What it is is granular semolina—the stuff you make pasta from, but it doesn’t resemble any spaghetti I’ve ever seen. People would stop by for a bite and ask why i was putting raisins in my rice. I’d tell ‘em it wasn’t rice, it’s couscous. People in Texas get flustered when you attempt to feed them something with origins as unfamiliar as North Africa. When they tasted it they’d usually ask, “What’d you say this was, Koo-Koo?” Well, that just opened the door for what became my sub-famous couscous riff. Realizing that it’ll probably lose some of its punch on paper instead of the normal oral delivery, I’ll share it with you anyway. This is what I’d tell ‘em.
I was first introduced to couscous by my girlfriend Zsa-Zsa. We were on a trip to New York, New York ‘cause Bhoutros-Bhoutros Ghali had arranged a visit to Sing Sing to see Sirhan Sirhan. We took the choo-choo, did the cha-cha the whole way. Zsa-Zsa was radiant in her Mu Mu—her eyes like littlke BB’s. We had the pooh-pooh platter which was a no-no. At the prison that night, wouldn’t you know it—there was a Duran-Duran concert,and they served us couscous with mahi-mahi and chow-chow which was MMMM-MMMM, but we both got beri-beri from Bora Bora and had to say ta ta.
Now here’s your assignment. Send me some food jokes. I studied way too hard this week and I need some chuckles. The dumber the better, but be advised, they won’t print anything that’s too dirty.
Comments
By Barbara
May 9, 2009 11:13 PM | Link to this
Chef Oz, You are just too much!!! I am currently in my MU MU doing the Cha Cha on a Chu Chu going to Sing Sing — Ta Ta — BB
By carey casey
May 10, 2009 12:43 PM | Link to this
Most people don’t know that back in 1912, Wheelman’s Mayonnaise was manufactured in England. In fact, the Titanic was carrying 12,000 jars of the condiment scheduled for delivery in Vera Cruz, Mexico, which was to be the next port of call for the great ship after its stop in New York. This would have been the largest single shipment delivered to Mexico. But as we know, the great ship did not make it to New York.
The ship hit an iceberg and sank, and the cargo was forever lost. The people of Mexico, who were crazy about mayonnaise, and were eagerly awaiting its delivery, were disconsolate at the loss. Their anguish was so great, that they declared a National Day of Mourning, which they still observe to this day. The National Day of Mourning occurs each year on May 5th and is known, of course, as “Sinko de Mayo.”
Love, Carey
By rick sides
May 10, 2009 2:15 PM | Link to this
Hey Oz - Sorry I haven’t checked out you blo until now. April rmeinded me to see what was up in your world. I am off to Spain Monday but will try and get caught up with all the goings on when I get back
By Kelsey
May 12, 2009 12:39 PM | Link to this
Unfortunately I am lacking in the Jokes department but thought I’d post a comment anyway. I was so excited to see the couscous riff posted, because you know that’s one of my all time faves, I just sat at my desk and smiled to myself…a little ray of sunshine you are today!! Love you!
By aglio e olio
May 13, 2009 12:09 AM | Link to this
Not a joke, but an anecdote: When my Italian grandparents would come to visit us in Waco, we would tease them about eating “eight thousand” for breakfast. With puzzled looks they asked “What do you mean, eight thousand?”
“Say ‘eight thousand’ in Italian.”
“Otto mila.” (Oatmeal)
Good Luck Oz.
By aglio e olio
May 13, 2009 12:22 AM | Link to this
Dinnertime at a monastery: Out of the frying pan- into the Friar.
By AC
May 13, 2009 10:19 PM | Link to this
No yolks, I mean jokes. Just got home from an evening with seven of your best girls. You were right in the big middle, both literally and figuratively. Sorry we couldn’t talk more. Spoke with Rick today, he was drinking Cava and eating tapas somewhere in Spain. Love you, miss you.
By Kim Sides
May 14, 2009 10:16 AM | Link to this
Well ain’t that a shame. I’m here bringing home the bacon while my man is out frying it up in Spain. What’s wrong with this picture? Oz, I hear you are lovin life up there. Good to know. We miss you here though. I have a really good food joke, but since you said they won’t print anything too dirty I’ll just leave it to your imagination!!!