The Krabby Patty Incident

The girls, for the most part, groan when I cook. Because I cook awful things that I expect them to eat. You know: meat, vegetables, that sort of swill.

So a few weeks ago I thought it might be time to try something that they would have fun with. They (and I) are big Spongebob Squarepants fans, so I thought "Hey, why don't we try making Krabby Patties?!"

(For the uninitiated out there, Spongebob works as a fry cook at the fast food joint The Krusty Krab [run by my hero, the ever-so-cheap Mr Krabs], and the main item on their menu is the Krabby Patty.)

So I asked Brenna to get some crab meat -- er, some imitation crab meat (cheap cheap cheap!) -- at the grocery store, and we decided to make a family night of making our own Krabby Patties.

The girls loved the idea, and were very excited to help. Abra pestered me all week: "When are we going to make the Kraaaaaaby Paaaattttties, Dad?" So on a Friday night, all was ready.

First, we took the "crab meat" and shredded it up in the trusty mini-food-processor:


(I love that food processor, by the way. I am Mr. Lazy when it comes to chopping, so I'll put just about anything in there and hit the "chop/grind" button. Carrots, onions, chicken, etc. Absolutely love that thing. Remember the last scene out of the movie Fargo? If that movie had been about me, it would have involved a mini food processor instead of a woodchipper. But anyway...)

So after shredding up the "crab meat," we mixed the "crab meat" with lots of breadcrumbs and some egg. (Think "seafaring version of meatloaf" here...). In the portion that was destined to be Mom and Dad's Krabby Patties, I also mixed in a healthy dose of Old Bay Seasoning.

(mmm, Krabby Patty fixin's....)

Then we smushed and shaped the "crab meat" into Krabby Patties.

The ever-present food-mooching hound had been pacing around the kitchen the whole time, of course, so I took the bowl with the left-over Krabby Patty fixings and set it out for the Wackjob.

Much to my amazement, Wacko wanted nothing to do with the Krabby Patty bowl. Are you kidding me? This is a dog who has been known to dine, well, in the cats' litterboxes. And he's refusing my fine Krabby Patty fixings???

So I pushed the bowl over to Pearl, the small feline version of the food-moocher set. Surely she would eat it. Right? RIGHT???

Uh, no. She took a pass as well. For those of you versed in literature and the cinema, this is what's known as "foreshadowing." But let's continue with the story.

So the Krabby Patties went into the fry pan. Cook, patties, cook!


So with these lovely Krabby Patties made, we then brought out the fixin's: ketchup (for the girls), pickles, lettuce, tomatos. I made a side order of french fries, and slapped it all out on the supper table. Oh yeah, the girls were excited about their Krabby Patties!

(Notice the Krabby Patties being served on authentic Spongebob Squarepants placemats!)

So I'm feeling pretty darned good about things right about now. We made a dinner the girls are excited about, it bears a resemblance -- if only in the most cursory way -- to food made from shellfish, which my dear wife normally refuses to put on the menu (sigh: Kansas), and I'm actually looking forward to eating a meal that the girls are looking forward to eating. So let's do it!

I know what you're thinking now: they turned out to be awful. No! They were very tasty! I wolfed mine down, and even Miss Kansas 1983 happily ate her Krabby Patty. They were great. The girls started eating too, and, in hindsight, this is where I should have packed it in for the night.

But no, I took it too far and actually had hopes that the girls would eat, like, more than one or two microscopic bites. Crazy me.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Thalia announced that she'd rather go straight to bed than to eat her Krabby Patty. So she did. And then five minutes later, a mysterious stomach virus hit Abra and she really really had a tummy ache and just couldn't manage to "finish" her Krabby Patty. (By "finish", I of course mean "eat a second bite").

Sigh.

AND I CAN'T EVEN GIVE THE LEFTOVERS TO THE DOG.

So the great Krabby Patty experiment went down as yet another example of the failures when I cook. At that point, I stomped around and told the girls that if I was going to go to the trouble to cook meals that they refused to eat, they were going to be meals that I wanted to cook and eat, and that the days of catering to six- and four-year old tastes were coming to an end. The line in the sand is drawn here. (I think I actually started one of my outraged declaratory statements with the phrase "By god...", although I did manage to refrain from the Scarlett O'Hara-ish "As god is my witness...").

And that's the story. Except of course to note that with Brenna going out tonight, Dad is left to cook dinner for the girls. And yes, I've caved -- it's pizza on the menu tonight....