Day 237: You’re the White House head chef, preparing a state dinner for the president of India. What do you serve, and how does it turn out?


This is the story about how I got fired from the White House. Now, I know, you’re not supposed to ruin the ending of a story before you start, but I just wanted to let you know. I fucked up. I fucked up bad.

So it started with the chicken… I thought it was a great idea but the Indian Prem was less of a fan…


“Mr Corman, I told you. I need these 150 portions ready for 1900. Now, I know you were in the Army and as such struggle with numbers occasionally, but I’m sure you can manage that. Get a move on!”

“Yes, Chef!” Jem shouted back at me, bustling through with the chicken pieces. I could hear Rita wittering behind me, fussing as she always chose to do.

“What is it, Ri?”

“Well, Chef, are you sure this is a good idea?” She always bit her thumb when she was nervous and by this point I was worried she’d chew it down to the bone.

“Of course it is! Fusion dishes are the way forward. Now, be a good girl and get on with the soup.” She turned around and I patter her on the ass as she walked away. What, I’m the head chef, I can get away with that kind of thing here. Here in my stomping ground, I am the king.

So, it all seemed to be going fine. Then, I stood at the head of the table as the servers brought the food out. The presidents were chatting away, all smiles and laughs, with two gorgeous women either side. The first ladies of their respective countries, one had to assume. Damn, I have got to get into politics! Well, maybe not after this fiasco…

So, the servers bring out the dishes and there I am, every eye in the room staring at me. “Mr President, Mr President, Madams First Lady, allow me to present a fusion dish, joining the blessed histories of our two nations. Before you, you will find curried chicken in a crisp breadcrumb coating. I call it… Gandheep Fried Chicken.” I grinned our towards the crowd who had a variety of facial expressions. None of them seemed to be happy though…


As it turns out, the Indian president is vegetarian. I really should have known that. Plus the attack on their cultural heritage. I thought it was a bit of fun, but they didn’t see it the same.

All of this, plus the sexual harassment suit from Rita? Yeah, I was out of a job.

So that’s how I ended up here, in Bernie’s kitchen. Now this, this is a whole other story…

A combination of long days and late nights has conspired against me, leaving me again postless yesterday. However, as is my want, I will be attempting to do two. If I don’t get the second one out, I’ve fallen asleep. 

S’all good!

The Idiot in Tin Foil


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