The Hark-Aldonze ripostuary of antiphonal asininity
Episode 10: The Sukiyaki Guide to Becoming an International Pariah
The "Receipts" Taos Green Chili | Aldonze Returns Saluti, Saluti Signori Hark! You must been worried to the sickness by the disappearance of your old friend Aldonze, non? Let me hurtle to assure you that I am safe, well, and in hiding. I can only re-veal spotted facts of what has happened to me during the last six months for I am still in great danger. My life has been threatening on several occasions and I have escaped death's window in comfortable close calls too many times for my own likeness. You will soon see why Aldonze has been unable to contact you for long these many months. Where shall I begin? Early this year I was to be honoured in Paris for my many years in service to the culinary arts. I do not travel so much any more but how could I refuse this great celebration of my life's achievements? When I arrive in Paris it was cold and wet. I went immediately to the hotel where I was to meet my hosts. Much to my surprise the Hotel Bien Foutu was in a bad area and it looked runned down. Only a lone gendarme stood in front of this shoddy residence quietly slapping a baton into his hand while the rain dripped from his cap. As I approached, the man looked up, grinned and blew a tiny whistle. I realised that this silly little copper was none other than my old nemesis...Pierre LeConte! How could this be? Everything happened fast. Suddenly the wet street was filled with gendarmes, sirens and red lights. I had been sat up! I picked up LeConte and stuffed him upside down into a nearby trash can. It was a funny sight to see his little legs wiggling in the aires and hearing his whistle echoing into the garbage can. I had, however, no time to laugh. I ran through an alley and disappeared into the pounding rain. A narrowed escape. I cannot tell you of how I used my many contacts to get out of France for I do not wish to compromise their secrets. That fool LeConte had issued a dragnet for Aldonze throughout Europe. I went on the sheep. Within a few weeks I was in a small village in the South of hot India cooking vegetable curries in the employment of the town elders. These kindly gently people took me into their lives and treated me with due respect. For over a month I was quite happy but getting bored with all the time veggies. These people were poor and could not afford the meat. One fine day, I saw a fat cow strolling down the small, dusty lane behind the house of my abode and I dispatched it with great skill. What a surprise I would have for these fine people at dinner that night. I made many wonderful beef curries and served them with pride to my employers in great style. They were in happy bliss eating my surprise meal. Suddenly one man spotted the tiny bell that hung around the animal's neck (I had used it as a garnish) and screamed! When I proudly explained what they were eating, they clutched their throats and ran from the dinning room. Had I added too many hot chillies? Forgotten the Salt? What? I hear a sound that is only too familiarise to Aldonze. The sound of rattling sabres! When I look out the door I see the whole village running toward me waving knifes and swords. If it weren't for a passing train, Aldonze would be dead as a window nail. I grabbed hold of a boxed car and watched my dark skinned friends disappear into the heat and dust of Southern India. Why would they turn on me with such savage rage? I cannot safely name my route or passage but weeks later, I found myself in a monastery in the mountains of northern Japan. I had met some wonderful Buddhist Monks who had invited me to live in their isolated mountain retreat and prepare simple Japanese vegetarian food. For this, I would learn the way of the Samurai and live in peace. For three months Aldonze was a happy man. I had all the Sake I could drink and it was a good hide out. I was given permission to teach French cooking at a nearby girls college. This was a great joy. There was one nice, young student who had good potentiality to become a great chef. I decided to tooter the young lady at night. Let me tell you Hark, this lady could cook! One night, I was tooting the pretty young thing in my cell when the head monk entered without knocking. When he sees the young student he misunderstands my motives and begins to scream. Again, I hear the sound of swords clinking. I got the hell out of there damn quick with a big bunch of pissed off Buddhist priests close behind. With great aplumb I jumped a horse and rode into the night. I thought it discreet to leave the pretty lady behind. Non? While making my escape from Japan, I stayed at a small country inn that served the Sukiyaki pretty good. Of course, I presented my credentials to the chef and learn how to make this tasty dish. I will share this fine receipt with my loyal readers of SCUTT. I cannot divulge where I am at this moment. I learn that a worldwide "shoot on-sight" hunt has been eschewed for me. No doubted that LeConte is behind this. Vietnam seems to be the only country where I can seek refuge so I will make my journey to this exotic land. I will keep you in the loops and pass on my many adventures and receipts to you but you must be the patient. If you see any shadowy figures on your doorstep asking about me, deny this knowledge. This is Aldonze. Chef Aldonze Luiz (Loo-eeze) at your service! PS: I see on my carte of the world that Vietnam is proximity-wise not far from Australia. Perhaps you get the large bed ready? | Hark Retreats Ye gods! You're back! Six months of anxiety-free bliss has suddenly turned to cold acid in the pit of my stomach. Upon receiving your latest I involuntarily reached for the Absinthe. As it resides in the pantry several rooms thither, this was no mean feat. But then, Absinthe does wonders for the process by which ordinary reality is easily manipulated. Aware for some time now that this planet is unable to cope with the two of us (and only does so because we are at opposite ends, giving it a sorely needed balance), I had dared to hope that somehow you had left it, by fair means or foul. As the old saying goes, "Life was not meant to be easy, and then you die." I had hoped it pertained to thee. But, as they say in the land of the Green Fairy, beezness eez beezness. The several thousand readers who have failed to write me with concern at your absence will no doubt be happy to have no knowledge of your return. For them I shall forego my deep seated fears of your possible appearance on my doorstep and proceed. May I say that your Hangover Cures have been most helpful with my newfound addiction to Absinthe, now that it is available for those of us who are experiencing that fin de civilisation feeling owing to the Orwellian behaviour of presidents and prime ministers throughout the world since 11 September. Just as la fée verte reached its zenith of popularity in the years before WWI, let it now be the liquid lullaby for these, the chaotic years before the final slaughter of the Enlightenment. Certainly it has taken Conservative Straiteners and Punishers a long time to overcome the exuberance felt by so many at the joy of an unfettered expression of intelligence. But, as the late, great Gaseous Windbag on High once uttered, "Some centuries you win, others it's not so good." What can I say about your recent exploits? I wish it could be nothing, but heartfelt commiserations go out to the Japanese monks whose quests for enlightenment have most likely been put on hold for several more lifetimes, and to the villagers in the South of India, who must be hoping for famine or flood or a nuclear bomb from Pakistan to put them out of their misery. Such is the trail of destruction which recedes from the fleeing, moon-sized bottom of the scampering Aldonze. And now you tell me that Vietnam is to be your host! Has this great nation not suffered enough? To what end did the noble Vietnamese endure hardship and invasion over so many decades? To be host to your ample end? Will your oversized end signify the end of this ancient culture? Your use of poor innocent people for your own ends appears to be endless! For the sake of humanity, end this global disruption and return to your place of origin, whereever that may be. (By the way, where do you come from?) It will certainly be the end of me if you make it to Australia's sacred white shores. Fortunately, our government has issued shoot to kill orders for anyone attempting entry with dark skin, hooked noses, big bottoms, poor skills in English, religions not Anglican, humanitarian beliefs, allegiance to the fair go, respect for women, tolerance of difference, interest in the arts, in short, anything that moves! Ha-ha-ha, you'll never invade Fortress Australia unless you turn into the living dead. I'm safe! Safe, I tell you... |