‘Welcome’ back to Cooking With Raitzeno, where more than a year of absence is not enough to save you from deep emotional trauma.
This time, we’re taking a trip down memory lane to one of the greatest culinary fuckups in history:
The Cup Of Hate.
So back about 10 years ago, give or take maybe 2 or 3 either way, a younger, slimmer Raitzeno was in college, and actually had friends who lived in town. I was staying the night at my best friend’s place, along with a couple of our other friends, after a long session of Rock Band. (I was the vocalist. We were all on Expert and scoring >90%. Pretty sure the scoring system for vocals is broken as hell.)
So it’s about 2:30am, we finished maybe half an hour ago. I’ve got no classes tomorrow until evening, so I figure I’ll make myself something to eat before I crash on the couch. I’d brought some snacks and such, but I’d eaten most of them already over the course of the day; all I had left was a cup of ramen.
So I go ahead and take the cup out of the packaging and nuke it, setting the microwave timer for 3 minutes. About a minute and a half later, I thought to myself, “Wait, what’s that smell?” About 30 seconds later, my best friend and his wife come down the stairs going “What the fuck is that smell?” My other friend, who’d been crashing in the guest room, couldn’t even form words; he was nearly choking.
By this point it’s tear gas. We’re getting smoked out of the house by something that smells like a napalm colada cocktail, and it’s stinging our eyes as we evacuate the house. There’s faintly visible orange smoke drifting out of the front door behind us as we sit on the front yard, cussing and wondering what the fuck is going on.
And that’s when it hits me. You may have noticed I glossed over the process of actually cooking the cup ramen. I did not gloss it over at all. Turns out, at 3am, having been up for at least 20 hours straight - and knowing me back in college, probably operating on a grand total of 10 hours of sleep over the past 4 or 5 days - I’d unwrapped a cup ramen, half-opened the lid, and stuck it in the microwave - WITH NO FUCKING WATER IN IT.
And as you may have guessed from the header image, this wasn’t a gentle flavor like shrimp or cheese, oh hell no. It was “Hot & Spicy Chicken,” one of the most artificially “spicy” things I’ve ever enjoyed. It’s only barely tolerable when actually made correctly, so it’s utterly appalling in gaseous form.
So I’ve realized what happened after a few minutes of sitting on the lawn, where I just sink into myself and begin fervently apologizing for desecrating their microwave: “I swear I didn’t try to smoke us out of the house.” My friends took it in stride, though, and when it finally dissipated, we went back in to survey the damage. The horrific smell was kind of faintly stuck to everything in the whole house and would require some serious cleaning and/or incense, but the real killer was still there in the microwave, and damn if it’s not one of the angriest-looking things I’d ever seen in my entire life.
Ladies and gentlemen, this is the Cup of Hate: (Taken with a phone camera 10 years ago, so take your “potato quality” comments and shove ‘em.)
Aren’t you glad I don’t cook in your house?