Tuesday, July 24, 2012

New York City: Wieners

I had been wanting to try the fabled Papaya King for a long time. So we had it for breakfast on our way to the Natural History Museum. Papaya King was good. Very good. It's still just a hot dog, though. But it's a perfect vehicle to glide into our NYC food eat extraganza (I prefer the word without the VA). Plus, since we're talking about wieners, we have another act from the play about our wiener, Beckett. This installment of David, Plaze is entitled, "Refresh My Pancakes." I have mustard all over my hands.


SCENE: Morning. David, Tania, and Beckett are in bed.

BECKETT: What a wonderful sleep. I would like it very much if my pillow were made of pancakes. Then when I wake up in the morning I could say, “Oh! Breakfast!”

DAVID: Is that a MitchHedberg joke? Regardless, that is a very good idea, Beckett. But then you’d have to employ someone to change the pancakes every morning.

TANIA: Change the pancakes, or replace the pancakes?

DAVID: Hm. Good question. I suppose it would be “replace” since “changing the pancakes” implies that there are pancakes leftover, and Beckett would never leave any pancakes behind. Or would the person refresh the pancakes?

TANIA: refreshmypancakes.com.

DAVID: Oh. That’s good. We should buy that URL. But that still doesn’t solve this problem about whether the pancakes are replaced, or refreshed, or changed. And, more importantly, who’s replacing, refreshing, or changing these pillow pancakes?

TANIA: We could hire someone. His sole job would be to replace the pancakes after Beckett has eaten them.

DAVID: That’s a good idea. But where does this pancake replacer get the pancakes from? Surely he doesn’t make them as well?

TANIA: No, no. He’s like a butler, or a waiter, very specific skill set. He needs to be focused on the task at hand. We’d have to hire a chef to make the pancakes. 

Something about the colors they use at Papaya King makes me really hungry. I love the way it looks. It reminds me of Orange Julius. I actually enjoyed going shopping at the mall with my mom when I was a kid because I knew I would get a hot dog and an Orange Julius. Unfortunately, a quick search shows that Orange Julius is a fledgling chain at this point and has been absorbed by Dairy Queen? Or maybe it was absorbed by that dude's head fat?

DAVID: So then we’d have two people in our employ, one to make the pancakes and one to change, replace, or refresh the pancakes?

TANIA: Yes. What does refreshing pancakes entail, though?

DAVID: I don’t know. He’d probably mostly be replacing the pancakes. I can’t imagine Beckett awaking and not eating all the pancakes he’s sleeping on. But in the unlikely event that Beckett eats some of his pancakes, and leaves some uneaten, then the pancake waiter fellow would change his pancakes. Do you agree that this must be true?

TANIA: Yes, David, indeed it does sound like it must happen in the manner you have just described.

DAVID: Now, on the extremely rare occasion that Beckett awakes and doesn’t eat his pancakes at all, and, heaven forbid, begins his day by leaving a perfectly good plate of pancakes on the bed, the pancake waiter fellow has a number of options available to him: he can throw the unfinished pancakes out, for instance. Or give them to another dog, perhaps in a neighboring town. Or he can eat them himself. Three options. Or he can return them to the kitchen, or wherever the pancake pillows are assembled, and refresh the pancakes. They might be a little old, but they’re not bad. That’s four options and I prefer the fourth best. We should write that into his contract.

TANIA: They just need a little refreshing you’re saying? But, again: exactly how does one refresh pancakes? 

Everywhere we go with Beckett people stop and have to tell us about their wiener dog experiences. "My grandmother had two of them when I was growing up. Oscar and Ding Dong. Oscar was a mean little dog." It's become so prevalent that I've begun cataloging these brief stories. "Fat guy in Monterey. His childhood dachshund was named Morty. Lived 18 years." I find it strange. "But you do it, too," Tania reminded me. "No I don't," I protested. But it's true. I do. And here's proof: after Papaya King and while walking to the Natural History museum we spied this lady walking her wieners. And the "Captive Wildlife Photographer" in me sprung into action. (The Captive Wildlife Photographer is a master at capturing photographs of wild animals in captivity.)

Closer. When the Captive Wildlife Photographer is shooting, he's constantly asking himself, "Would they print this in National Geographic?" The answer here is clearly, no.
Bingo! Nailed it! That's what I'm talking about! Another prize winning photograph of wildlife in captivity.

DAVID: I don’t know. Seems like a secret of the trade. We’ll leave that to him, but his contract will stipulate that “untouched pancakes shall be refreshed.” Maybe he just kind of fluffs them up a little. Pulls out the dents. Adjusts the discolorations.

TANIA: Sounds like he takes them to an auto body shop.

DAVID: Perhaps he does. It wouldn’t surprise me. The pancake waiter is a clever little fellow. And the introduction of an auto body shop would explain the high cost of some of his monthly expense reports.

TANIA: He has expense reports?

DAVID: Yes. And some of them are quite high.

TANIA: Aren’t they itemized?

DAVID: Yes. And he submits receipts as well. He’s very thorough. But I never look at them.

TANIA: You should pay more attention to his monthly expense reports.

DAVID: I know. But I have this image in my head of this extravagant fellow, me, that hires a chef to make pancake pillows, and a waiter to replace, refresh, and change the pancake pillows, and their boss, this extravagant fellow, again me, I picture him sitting behind a big desk so busy that he barely has time to sign all the documents placed before him, let alone review them.

TANIA: Since you’re not looking at the monthly expense reports, I’m going to hire Thomas Keller to be the pancake chef in our employ.

DAVID: I don’t know how I could say no to that, or even know that you hired him. I might balk at the number for monthly household expenses, but I wouldn’t have time to investigate, so busy am I signing documents and hanging up on people. Maybe if I ran into him in the kitchen? “Oh! Thomas!” Not sure what reason I would have to go into the kitchen, though.

BECKETT: Can someone just plaze scratch my bobo.

TANIA: Your bobo?

BECKETT: Yes, my baba.

DAVID: Is it a bobo or a baba? 

BECKETT: David. Plaze. 

DAVID: Well, which is it? 

BECKETT: … boba.

TANIA: What is he talking about?

DAVID: His ding ding.

TANIA: It’s a bobo now? 

DAVID: I have no idea. 

BECKETT: Yeah, you know, ding ding, bobo, baba—just skwatch it!

DAVID (scratching Beckett’s ding ding): What would happen in the event that the waiter was sick?

TANIA: Or the chef was sick?

DAVID: Or the waiter and the chef were both sick? 


We had to cross through the park to get to the museum. It was a little breezy for sky writing. I think it said, "[HEART] SNOT," before the wind blew it away. 
You know those tourists who walk around with a video camera continually recording? When do they watch that footage and what do they do with it? Do they put it in their food blog like I did with this lovely photo of Tania strolling through the park? No, they do not, because they eat whales.
And here's a picture of me strolling through the park with a tummy full of wieners.

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