Oct 102013
 
Proto COver

Never let it be said that we don’t listen to fans. Things are going well but we’re going to make it even easier on you for you to win a copy of Crunchy Bits. All you have to do is either comment here, hit us up on the contact form, or just drop us an email at magicpigmedia AT gmail dot com. Got it? But for those who gave us stories don’t worry. If you send us your tale of kitchen terror that counts as two entries. So you just doubled your chance to win. And we are not going to spam you.
And because you asked for it here’s the prize package:
Grand Prize is a copy of Crunchy Bits: Recipes for Every Level of Culinary Explorer and a DVD of the Dungeons & Dragons Cartoon: The Beginnings (9 Episodes) plus a special little grab bag prize.
Second Prize is a PDF copy of Crunchy Bits.
How does that sound?

  3 Responses to “OK, We’re going to make it even easier for you.”

  1. This is a lesson in why, no matter how simple the recipe, You Should Make Sure You Actually Have All The Ingredients Before You Cook, You Stooge.

    Years ago, I lived in a studio apartment with a kitchenette the size of a shoebox. One night, I was struck by a powerful craving for tacos. Not so powerful a craving that I wanted to walk almost a mile to the Taco Bell, mind you. But powerful enough to make me try to cook my own. I usually had Taco Supplies on hand, after all.

    Usually.

    First came the meat. It wasn’t thawed yet, of course, but big deal! The pan would warm it right up. So I plonked the frozen beef-tube into the pan and got it cooking, using the spatula to chisel it into chunks as it thawed. Sure, that would do!

    Then the taco seasoning. The discount-store generic-brand taco seasoning. The discount-store generic-brand taco seasoning I hadn’t used because I usually had other taco seasoning, and which had therefore been scrunched up at the back of the cabinet. It’s not like it could actually go bad, right? Sure, that would do.

    Next, the tortilla. But, I realized, I only had large burritio-sized tortillas, not taco ones. So, fine then — a beanless, riceless, burrito. Sure, that would probably do.

    I flopped a large tortilla onto a plate, piled on the suspiciously-seasoned freezerbeef, then opened to the fridge to search for toppings. was not a successful endeavor. Somehow, despite being a fiend for it, I was out of every type of cheese. There was no block of cheddar to shred on top. No pouch of pre-shredded cheese. There wasn’t even any American cheese. What’s a taco without melty cheese? Awful, that’s what. That wouldn’t do.

    But at least there was a squeeze-bottle of sour cream to represent the dairy faction. I grabbed it from the shelf, and frowned at the bottle’s surprising lack of weight. Undaunted, I shook the bottle vigorously, upended it over the taco, and gave a mighty squeeze. It made an obscenely biological sound and splattered the taco with no more than a half-teaspoon of sour cream. That certainly wouldn’t do!

    So I went to the sink and ran a little water into the bottle, hoping to thin it out and dislodge whatever was surely stuck to the walls. Capping the lid, I shook the bottle vigorously yet again, venting all my cooking frustrations. Feeling avenged, I snapped open the lid, flipped the bottle, prepared to squeeze… and doused the taco meat in a couple tablespoons of slightly-cream-tinged tap water. The bottle was thrown into the trash can with rather more force than was necessary. That would not do at all.

    But at least there would be taco sauce, I assured myself with grim determination. Surely taco sauce would redeem it — no matter how much it was failing at being a taco, if it was covered in *taco* sauce, it would have to count as at least some kind of proxy-taco. I swung open the fridge door. There was no taco sauce. I rummaged around the shelves and made only two useful discoveries: a bottle of Frank’s Red Hot, and an unopened nacho cheese dip left over from the last time I’d ordered pizza — some three weeks prior. These would not do — but they’d damn well be MADE to do.

    More out of spite at this point than anything else, I tore the paper cap from the weeks-old psuedocheese and extruded it onto the cooling pile of suspiciously seasoned meat doused in dairywater. It didn’t exactly pour, but instead came out in an unnaturally orange glob, stuck at one end of the pile. I tried, mostly in vain, to spread it over the rest of the taco by using the torn cap as a spatula.

    Finally, I shook on a generous quantity of hot sauce. If nothing else, perhaps it would burn away my tastebuds enough to numb them to the rest of this taco travesty.

    After crudely folding the tortilla over the heap, I took the plate to my desk and, with no small amount of trepidation, started eating. Lukewarm, soggy, and salty enough to kill every slug in a five-mile radius, it was by no means the best thing I’d ever eaten — but it wasn’t inedible. I’d certainly had worse. And I could tell already that it was going to be an amusing story. Yeah, that would do.

  2. Is this my opportunity to receive a major award? Shall.. I be the victor?

  3. Yep, the contest runs until the end of the month. We’re going to draw and announce the winner on November 1.

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