Remains (From a prompt in Writers’ Digest July/August
2015)
I ate it—but not all of it.
It was terrible. That’s what
happens when I am hungry and tired. My
standard for edible food collapses like a wall of sand.
The cheese crisp was not crisp. It was cold and tasteless. I think the cook threw two handfuls of grated
cheese on a floppy tortilla and sent it out to the server. I sat there at the restaurant table smoldering
from stuffed frustration and envy. The
kid’s plate across from me looked divine and she was devouring it with gusto: a
juicy hamburger on a toasted bun with pickles, lettuce and a side of fries.
The next day, I salvaged the remains of my meal. I sliced a fresh red pepper and patterned the
slender pieces on top of the crisp, sprinkling it with parsley and drizzling garlic-seasoned
olive oil on the tortilla. I placed the
tortilla on foil and baked it at 325 degrees in the oven for seven
minutes.
It came out with edges lightly browned and bubbling cheese
and toppings. The peppers were sweet
with a touch of garlic and juicy.
Sometimes the remains of a disappointing entrée can be
resurrected into a tasty treat. On its
second do-over, I ate it all.
