How to make Shrump Roast
I had a great day here in Washington. Malik from Airport Sedan Services collected me in his new Cadillac for the 1-hour drive to Silver Spring. We listened to classical music and talked of Pakistan, which he'd left behind 18 years ago. It was a fine way to spend an afternoon traffic jam.
I arrived at the hotel just in time to walk next door to Borders for my 4PM appearance. There wasn't much of an audience, but I ate a donut and the store management went out into the street to rope 'em in, and within a few minutes we had a modest but usable crowd.
I spoke, answered questions, and drank tea until five, when the crew from Ivy Mount School arrived. They were gracious enough to take me to dinner, where I ate a crab meat omelette and talked kid management with a crew of trained professionals. And then it was movie time.
Jennifer Venditti and I had an excellent Q&A following Billy the Kid, and I signed a bunch of books and talked to a bunch of people. Jennifer pointed out that my previous blog entry is wrong . . . we do Q&A at Coolidge Corner Friday and Saturday, not tomorrow and Friday.
And before I go . . .
One of the champion moms from Ivy Mount gave me this story, which her son Gabriel wrote. He's a 12-year-old Aspergian with a fondness for shrump roast. Perhaps when he's bigger, he'll get a girl that likes to cook shrump roast, and they can enjoy it together. . .
To make shrump roast, take one banjo full of humper-flump leaves and teach them to tango. Then catch several shrump and spank them to see if they are ripe. If they are, throw them back and get some unripe ones. After that tie the shrump and the humper-flump leaves into a ball made of the hide of a were-gerbil, hang it from a pole, an duse it to play tether ball with a cross dressing male wolf.
If you followed the directions perfectly you should have a large ball of what looks like moldy, purple and white striped McD's triple whopper with sneeze. Prod this foul-smelling thing into an electric wood burning oven with the door on top. Sprinkle with flea powder and cook till it re-enacts Hamlet. If it's at the duel scene, hit with a fly swatter and it should turn into a large shrump roast.
And that, folks, is how to make shrump roast. Compliments of Gabriel Leder. Personally, I would not mess with were-gerbils, but I guess he's OK with them. We had a were-bear up here in the woods when I was a kid, and he was no end of trouble.
I'd substitute a regular food-grade gerbil.
And now, I must crawl under my rock and sleep so I'm ready for my departure for Boston tomorrow morning.
I arrived at the hotel just in time to walk next door to Borders for my 4PM appearance. There wasn't much of an audience, but I ate a donut and the store management went out into the street to rope 'em in, and within a few minutes we had a modest but usable crowd.
I spoke, answered questions, and drank tea until five, when the crew from Ivy Mount School arrived. They were gracious enough to take me to dinner, where I ate a crab meat omelette and talked kid management with a crew of trained professionals. And then it was movie time.
Jennifer Venditti and I had an excellent Q&A following Billy the Kid, and I signed a bunch of books and talked to a bunch of people. Jennifer pointed out that my previous blog entry is wrong . . . we do Q&A at Coolidge Corner Friday and Saturday, not tomorrow and Friday.
And before I go . . .
One of the champion moms from Ivy Mount gave me this story, which her son Gabriel wrote. He's a 12-year-old Aspergian with a fondness for shrump roast. Perhaps when he's bigger, he'll get a girl that likes to cook shrump roast, and they can enjoy it together. . .
To make shrump roast, take one banjo full of humper-flump leaves and teach them to tango. Then catch several shrump and spank them to see if they are ripe. If they are, throw them back and get some unripe ones. After that tie the shrump and the humper-flump leaves into a ball made of the hide of a were-gerbil, hang it from a pole, an duse it to play tether ball with a cross dressing male wolf.
If you followed the directions perfectly you should have a large ball of what looks like moldy, purple and white striped McD's triple whopper with sneeze. Prod this foul-smelling thing into an electric wood burning oven with the door on top. Sprinkle with flea powder and cook till it re-enacts Hamlet. If it's at the duel scene, hit with a fly swatter and it should turn into a large shrump roast.
And that, folks, is how to make shrump roast. Compliments of Gabriel Leder. Personally, I would not mess with were-gerbils, but I guess he's OK with them. We had a were-bear up here in the woods when I was a kid, and he was no end of trouble.
I'd substitute a regular food-grade gerbil.
And now, I must crawl under my rock and sleep so I'm ready for my departure for Boston tomorrow morning.
Comments
It so was inspiring (and so much fun) to talk with John before and after the film. John's fans at Ivymount are going to talk with his publisher to arrange for John to come down here, hopefully for a slightly longer visit, perhaps sometime in the summer or very early fall. If you're interested in being notified about this event or would like to participate in publicizing it, please get in touch with me at LGreenman@starpower.net. Please also visit the Model Asperger Program at Ivymount at http://www.ivymount.org/asperger.html, and check out our spring lecture series.
John, your book has touched so many lives. We are full of respect and appreciation.
Sincerely,
Lisa Greenman (Gabriel's mom)
I was wondering if we couldn't cross-post Gabriel's recipe to Cooks.com or the Food Network site, particularly as I need a little help tweaking or correcting my shrump roast technique: My banjo keeps twanging and the cross-dressing wolf comes out all mushy.
Have a good trip, John.
Mandy Katz
I do love your posts, John.
I guess sometimes I sound civilized and sometimes I sound like a hick