Half-Assed Gourmet: Brat-loving bastard...

I don't want to sound like an antisocial jerk here, but when I go to the grocery store, I generally prefer to get in, get out, and go home and put the groceries away. There are a few familiar checkout clerks I like, folks I'll exchange a friendly greeting with, maybe a word or two. But I don't often look forward to a big exchange of chitchat in a grocery line, especially one in which I've stood for way too long because the local Giant has all those damn self-checkout lanes and got rid of so many cashiers.

Ahem.

The point is, a week or two ago, I went to Giant to get a few prescriptions filled for my family, and while I was there I grabbed a few groceries. I like Johnsonville Brats. I'll stick 'em on the Foreman grill and make a nice, easy lunch for me or sometimes for both me and my wife. When they're on sale, I get a pack or two.

That's pretty much all there is to it.

On this particular day, a guy I hadn't seen before was checking me out, and when I finally got up there, the brats were among the first items he scanned. I'm staring at the electronic card reader, waiting to execute the financial transcation, when I hear, "How do you cook your brats?"

I was taken aback because, really, any speaking after, "Do you have a Bonuscard?" and "Your total is..." comes as a shock if I'm not familiar with the clerk. This guy's inquiring mind wanted to know my cooking secrets, though. Did he recognize me as the Half-Assed Gourmet?

"I usually just cook them on the Foreman Grill," I said with a sligth chuckle. See, I was already anticipating that my answer was going to disappoint him, and I wanted to use a tone that discouraged any further inquiry. After all, it was the middle of December, I had a sick wife and daughter at home, and I wasn't in the mood for a seminar. I suppose in the back of my mind I expected some kind of remark. But I didn't expect the guy behind the counter to say this:

"What a waste."

He actually said, "What a waste," and not with a jovial lilt, either. He was looking down, there was an edge in his voice, and I could swear he shook his head, though I didn't look at him fast enough to eb sure.

What a waste! Excuse me for not cranking up the gas grill two weeks before Christmas, buddy. Now how's about ringing up my soup and letting me go home to my pathetic Foreman grill and my woefully wasted weiners?

I think he realized he came on a bit strong, as after an awkward pause of a few seconds (I think I chuckled weakly to acknowledge I had received his lament), he told me I should try brining. He followed with a Brining for Dummies primer while I kept an eye on the electronic reader, desperately awaiting the cue to slide my credit card and begin the end of what I had assumed would be a simple grocery purchase.

I was ticked by this Checkout Chef's reprimand, but now that I think about it, I shouldn't have let him bother me. The Half-Assed Gourmet need not apologize for anything. So I like cooking Johnsonville Brats on the Foreman grill. I don't think they're better that way, and I never said as much. That's just how I usually make them.

Does that make me a bad cook? Well, maybe, but it doesn't make me a bad person.

I really need to get my groceries at Wegman's more often.