Wednesday, August 11, 2010

And Now For The Further Adventures Of That Hapless Homemaker: Ima Crockstar

Today's episode of Ima Crockstar brings you the true life happenings straight outta Ima's ghetto kitchen where there's always something cooking........and that something is usually from the clearance rack.

By the way, I've offically adopted Ima Crockstar as my new alias. I may use it in the future as a potential bowling league name. And it could prove useful as a nom de plume for when I prank cooking blogs with shockingly crass crockpot jokes.

Hey, it's preferable to Ima Crocstar which would infer that I endorse stuffing feet into the unsightly plastic sweat lodges known as Crocs.

Anyway, Ima Crockstar may be my alter-ego but we share one distinct commonality: we're both cheap women and cutthroat grocery shoppers.

As such, it's disheartening to stock up on the favorite fruits and vegetables of the mini-Infidels only to have them, for example, arbitrarily decide that the previous week's celery feeding frenzy is a thing of the past thus leaving the newer celery supply to rot in the fridge. This happens with frustrating regularity.

So, here's what I did: I created a new Infidel specialty I dubbed "ROTTEN FRUIT COBBLER." When life gives you fetid fruit,  turn it into a miracle of crockpot cooking.

First order of business was to scour my refrigerator. Don't report me, but my fridge shelters exotic bacterial strains as well as illegally harboring dangerous fruit fugitives.

Then, I quickly divided up the unattractive offerings into separate piles: Slimy, Fermented Enough To Make Fruity Moonshine, First Community Fruit Fly Colony, Like Nothing The Food Pyramid Has Ever Seen, and the scariest of them all, Sub-Human Fruit. I quickly disposed of that last category into a waiting trash bag.

One misplaced lightning strike and Sub-Human Fruit would become animated and frankly, the last thing I need in my tiny kitchen is competition for space from some ghastly Frankenfruit.

Basically, I ended up with peaches, nectarines, bananas, and a few rogue mangoes to serve as sacrificial crockpot offerings. Ima Crockstar and I are both excessively lazy. We didn't even bother peeling the peaches or nectarines, preferring instead to just savagely squish everything with our bare hands.

In keeping with the emerging tropical theme, a can of pineapple tidbits was thrown into the crockpot mishmash along with some concentrated orange juice, brown sugar, cinnamon and a little bit of Bisquick baking mix.

Then I just made a simple Bisquick/milk/cinnamon/hot melted butter concoction to top it all off. (Unsure of exact measurements? Yeah, me too. I'm a recipe guesstimator. Try THIS site. It's chock full of Bisquick cobbler crockpot recipes.)

In a word? The ending results were divine.

Ima Crockstar once again swooped into the Infidel kitchen and saved the day along with saving money and saving produce from the trash heap. I should order one size XL cape with a crockpot logo across it for my superhero friend/alter-ego.

Does your produce look like it starred in a horror movie called It Came From Satan's Fruit Stand? Don't fret. Think of me and Ima Crockstar and try our patented ROTTEN FRUIT COBBLER deliciousness!


Carrot Jello said...

So. did you drink the juice after you ate it?


The pineapple juice? I saved that for Pina Colada night where I get caught in the rain even though I have half a brain......

Carrot Jello said...

My alias is "Ima Microwaver". My hair is swished to the side, and you can open my stomach and I'll cook something up for you. Quick.

Carrot Jello said...

Do you like Pina Coladas? Gettin' caught in the rain?
I don't even want to know if you like makin' love at midnight.


You know it! Makin love at midnight in the dunes of the cape......which is really weird because my cape is big but not big enough to accommodate a whole dune unless Rupert Holmes meant the Dune movie in which case I could totally smuggle a copy of a Dune CD into the secret pocket of my cape.


Ima Microwaver and Ima Crockstar were the closest of friends until that fateful way when a cocky no-cook pasta sauntered in, irrevocably dividing them as they argued over who was better suited to cook a no-cook pasta.


I'm writing out the saga now. It's love-horror-foodie-hirsuit-tragic comedy drama.

i think you'll really like it.

Nancy Face said...

EEEK! Okay, it sounds good, haha!

My mama's name is Ima...Ima Jean to be exact!

Carrot Jello said...

You just want all the glory. Admit it. You were never in it for the food. You were in it for the fame.

jams o donnell said...

Rotten fruit cobbler, I hope you can send some fed ex across the Atlantic!

Jean Knee said...

mmm, mmm

I often times make my own raisins out of forgotten and buried grapes

Carrot Jello said...