Collecting Chopsticks

Every once in a while an event takes place that is so monumental that everyone sits up and takes notice. It shakes our society to the very core and spreads joy around the likes of which we have never known. For those that experience it life will never be the same. For those who miss out, they will always wonder if it really was as good as everyone else has claimed.

Such an event took place in my immediate circle. It was the summer of 2005 and only six houses down from me history was being made. My wife’s sister and her husband had a deep fryer. This was no ordinary deep fryer. This deep fryer was magic. Apparently when coupled with regular oil and a recipe from a near immortal celebrity cook, food went into it but joy came out.

Josh and Christine made corn dogs. As I type that it seems to wash away the truth of it. Apparently these corn dogs weren’t corn dogs like you and I have had, but the very same corn dogs that are served in Valhalla. Norse people love corn dogs. Anyway for some reason I decided not to try a corn dog. I’m sure that’s what happened. It couldn’t be that everyone else had a few thousand of these morsels and I didn’t even see one of them, let alone try one. I even recall someone commenting on how well they freeze. This means that there were so many extra corn dogs left over, they didn’t know what to do with them.

Now don’t mistake this for bitterness. No. I accepted the fact that I had somehow missed out on a near perfect delight by only six houses, and that freezers were bursting with happiness and I somehow never tried one. I can take that. Really. The issue is this.

In order to make said perfection from a hot dog, you need chopsticks. Josh and Christine didn’t have any, and used bamboo skewers instead. So in a effort to garner support for a second batch of blissful stick doggies I started to collect chopsticks. I started soon after I learned that the corn dogs, that everyone tried and loved, all rode off together into the sunset. In the months and now years that have followed, I have mentioned my collection to the would be chefs many times.

It has now almost become a joke. I have been collecting chopsticks since fall of 2005. I have a gigantic horde of wooden eating rods. I almost need to designate a new drawer for the beasties. They all sit there in quiet anticipation of their new assignment. Whenever I go to Chinese food, Japanese food, or just the teriyaki bowl, I always ask for extra.

“Can I have some chopsticks?’

“How many?”

“Seven.”

“Seven!”

“I’m very rough with them.”

“No.”

“Okay... how about four?”

I’m not sure why I’m still collecting them. I suppose I’m just being overly optimistic. The worst part is I’ve now built these corn dogs up past any level they could ever come close to meeting. Could they really be that good? I sometimes wonder if the corn dogs ever really existed. Like a myth that has been retold for generations. I’m sure it was built on some reality, I suppose there could have been a deep fat fryer somewhere, making enrapturing eatables, but just six houses down? I don’t know. It's hard to believe.

In the end, I hope so, because if not, I’ve got a lot of chopsticks to try and get rid of!