Memorable roasts

So last week I went to work and while I was talking to the boss I noticed a book on her desk entitled ‘Memorable Roasts’. It looked to be your basic instructional cook book alright. But just what in the hell is a memorable roast? How many roasts have you eaten in your life, and can you even remember any damn one? I had one tonight. It was pretty good I guess, but will I remember it? No. Tomorrow I’ll get up and go about my daily life and the roast that was will fade away, blurring and merging into the pleasant brown memory that is every roast you’ve ever had. Filed away in the brain’s reference library, never again used except to conjure up the mental picture of what a roast is, in the event that you forget, or need to explain it to a hungry German backpacker whose English is “not so goot.”

How can a roast be memorable? Maybe the occasion itself could be memorable. Like a particularly good Christmas which just happened to involve a roast. I guess a roast could be memorable if you got salmonella, or a similar enterobacteria from it. All attached to the toilet for several days, crying out curses at Yellow Jack as you check your stool for blood.

A memorable roast might be feasible if something outrageous happened at the time. A knife-wielding maniac enters the room, declares his love of the Scissor Sisters, then insists you feed him his share. Your sister confirms the family’s worst fears: she has become a Freemason but refuses to share the secret handshake with any of you except Cousin Dale. You know, the usual family stuff.

All these possibilities sure would be memorable, but not because of the roast itself. And certainly none of that sort of material would be in that book. God, what secrets could that book contain? I better Google this.


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