Cooking with Fur

When I first began martial arts, years ago, my favorite technique was a roundhouse kick to the cat perched on the stove top. I quickly learned to feel remorseful since it was Tessa’s cat and she loved it. My senior instructor disapproved when I told him about it. “Waste of effort,” he said with a scowl. I figured it was only one of four cats and we could spare a few, but no. Tessa even taught me to love the fuzzy rodent.

I was still very much a bachelor in those days, so my kitchen patrol was decidedly unorthodox. The family and house guests partook of a certain amount of cat fur if they broke bread with us.

Pasta dishes are best at concealing cat fur, as long as lots of dark red sauce is involved. Stay away from alfredo sauce if you haven’t had time to wipe the counters thoroughly. And the walls and ceiling and fan blades. Always serve a dark dessert such as chocolate ice cream. Preferably a chocolate with chocolate chunks and maybe even some kind of glitter, as the irregularity of the texture will camouflage all colors of fur. If you don’t believe me, just cut a piece of key lime pie or dig out a scoop of vanilla ice cream and wave it over your fur-covered counter. A single filament of cat hair will make it look like Don King in a headlock.

Dammit, there’s a hair in my beer while I’m writing this. This is a light Milwaukee-brewed domestic before me. You are so busted if you serve this in any kind of pub glass in a fur kitchen. Dark lagers and ales afford the best fur camouflage. But if you’re going to serve it in glasses, better be an old pro. If you’re not willing to take the risk, just serve it in the bottle. If your guest asks for a glass, give him the coffee mug your daughter made in the Girl Scouts crafts unit. Something with a very mottled texture and lots of dark reds, browns, and dark browns.

By now, you may be thinking, Oh, Fred. This isn’t true. You’re just making this up to deter family and friends from dropping by over the holidays. Well, the truth is that I haven’t knowingly cooked with fur since I earned my first brown belt. I have grown meticulous about wiping the counters and kitchen ceiling fan regularly. If you walk up the front ramp unannounced, rest assured I will blow the kitchen table with my own life’s breath to send most of the cat fur to the floor before your finger hits the doorbell, and I’ll have a canned Milwaukee’s Best in your hand before your ass hits the chair. All I ask is that, if you find pet hair on your food or drink, just swallow it and be a good sport.