Shrimp with Spanish Rice 20, Seahawks 10
This fall we are combining our love of the football and our dream of learning to cook by preparing a meal from the city of the Seahawks opponent.
Seahawks vs. Shrimp with Spanish Rice Preview
It was quite the night for those who live on the banks of Tampa Bay. First their football team had a little fun with our Seahawks, while in New St. Petersburg, the Rays were wrapping up their first American League pennant.
President Bush may be the most incompetent person to hold that office; however, under his administrations more baseball franchises made it to their first World Series than during the Clinton, Bush Sr., and Reagan years combined.
Five teams (the Diamondbacks, Angels, Astros, Rockies, and Rays) have made their Fall Classic debuts since 2001. This leaves three current franchises that have never been, and of course in true W. style, the team he once owned, the Rangers, are one of those teams.
Oh, funny story, the Mariners are also one of those three teams. Excuse us for a second [sounds of plates and pianos being smashed].
If anyone cares, the other team is the Nationals, but they spent most of their existence in Canada, where their socialist leanings kept them from playing late into October.
So, what does one eat when they are being reminded of the complete incompetence of their rooting interests? Hard Rice.
It’s not just an expression that we’ll be using in our never ending attempt to hang out with sixteen-year olds; it was the problem with our meal.
Much like our jambalaya, we had a great time gracefully placing all of the ingredients into our skillet: ham, onions, peppers, garlic, cilantro, white rice, chicken stock, tomatoes, and paprika. However, instead of heating it on the stove until the liquid evaporated, we put the whole thing in the oven.
We don’t know how many of you spent time in Nam, but those of you that did know very well that rice expands as it takes in liquid. Much like the Vietnam War, our rice was supposed to expand and soften as it spent time in the oven with our chicken stock.
Well, after twenty-five minutes, the rice on top still looked like it did when we first put it in the oven. So back in it went.
After ten more minutes, it looked a little better, however, still hard. We mixed the dish around and found that the rice at the bottom of the dish was nice and moist.
We estimated that 80% of the rice was good to eat. Now, 80% is great when you’re talking about winning a key swing state, however, with rice, it can lead to hurt teeth.
We were unsure why things went so wrong, until we remembered that when we placed the rice in the oven, we didn’t mix it together that well. There was a mound of rice at the top of our dish. We guessed that because of its elevated status, that rice never had a chance to absorb the liquid. [Ed. note: That elevated rice is obviously elitist.]
Our guests were very nice about everything, and chose to focus on the 80% that we didn’t screw up. It wasn’t our usual group due to an NBA fantasy draft, grad school homework, and a desire not to be sketched while peeing (our house, our rules). Our special touch friend had invited over Reno’s finest contribution to Seattle, and the two paid little attention to the game—lucky.
It was a testosterone-free affair, until we screamed "you motherfucking rapist!" following a Jerramy Stevens reception, and had to explain that we weren’t joking.
The shrimp was easy. We had been preparing to shuck, or peel, or de-scale the bone(?). However, we ended up purchasing pre-cooked shrimp by mistake, thereby saving us some time and keeping our soft, pretty urban hands safe for future latte gripping.
NEXT WEEK: Seahawks at Mission Style Burritos, 1pm.
