Sunday, October 18, 2009
Readers, I need to share something with you. It's time. Those of you who read this blog with any regularity have, I'm sure, figured out that I have a few (just a few, mind you!) character flaws. Hard to believe, I know.
But there's one flaw that I haven't shared with you yet. Despite many years of therapy, and tears, and hand-wringing, there's a habit I have that I just can't kick.
I cannot, for the life of me, tell any cretin who rings my doorbell selling something to Fuck Off.
In fact, the person at my door doesn't even have to be selling something. Example: I am an agnostic. I'm pretty damn sure of this. And yet,whenever those sweet-faced Mormon boys come a-calling, with their earnest smiles and their ill-fitting suits, I let them in. I give them lemonade. I let them use the loo. I won't talk religion with them, but I'll let 'em in. This summer, I had a pair of dudes who came to my house every couple of weeks, because they knew I'd let them pee and offer them popsicles. I am that bad.
And you know what? Most of the people who come to my door are selling something, because I have hardly any friends. And I'd really like to be able to tell those strangers at my door to Fuck Off. I would.
And the person I'd most like to tell to Fuck Off is The Creepy Meat Man. Miss D. came up with that title for him, and it's fitting. He makes our collective skin crawl.
Not only does he have beady little toad eyes and bad breath and maybe 5 teeth in his mouth, The Creepy Meat Man is a stalker. He rings my doorbell once a week, even though I've told him repeatedly that we have only 2 real meat eaters in the house and he should not come by more than once a month, at *most*.
Somewhere in his tiny lizard brain, The Creepy Meat Man always seems to know when I'm home. Which would be no problem if I could just ignore the doorbell. But I have children. And when the doorbell rings, my children behave eerily similar to dogs. They call out, run excitedly in circles, peek out the window.
Mostly, I say NO to The Creepy Meat Man. But once in a blue moon, I will not want to go to the grocery store, so I break down and buy something. And because of that occasional folly, I am stuck with him. Now he will not go away, no matter how often I answer the door, smile tightly and growl, "Don't need anything."
In addition to The Creepy Meat Man, we have a Not-So-Creepy Meat Man. He only comes once every six weeks and gives me free cheesecake, so of course I let him in the door. Plus, he sells really good product.
Like the GINORMOUS shrimp he carries only 4 times a year. No lie, these shrimp could eat Miss M. for breakfast...they're that big. And I can never resist them, particularly if I'm having a party.
Thus was the case the other week; I had a large bag of T-Rex Shrimp and friends coming over, so I created an appetizer with them. I'd love to say that everyone raved about how delicious the shrimp were (true) but mostly, all I got was, "Holy Crap! Look at the size of those buggers!"
And indeed, they were impressive.
Proscuitto-Wrapped T-Rex Shrimp over Greens
12 big-ass shrimp (the biggest you can find), peeled and deveined
12 fresh basil leaves
6 slices proscuitto, thinly sliced and cut in half
6 cups mixed greens, tossed with your favorite viniagrette
Heat grill (or a grill pan) to medium-high. Season the shrimp lightly with salt and pepper. Nestle a basil leaf in the groove of each shrimp (where the vein has been taken out). Wrap shrimp tightly with the proscuitto, securing with toothpicks, if necessary. Drizzle lightly with olive oil.
Grill 2-5 minutes per side, depending on the size of your shrimp.
Serve over greens, drizzled with a little extra viniagrette.
*So I guess it's okay to answer the door sometimes. But seriously, I need an "Answer-The-Door" Intervention. Either that, or an advertisement in Guns-and-Ammo, because the Creepy Meat Man needs to go.