A Gluttonous Geezer’s Culinary Bucket List

I was sitting in a tiny, bleak exam room at the towering Geezerville Medical Center, waiting for my cardiologist, the lovely Dr. Blackheart. She had just returned from a lengthy vacation in Belize, partly funded by my membership in her “Golden Stent” club, a group of patients with consistently gnarly, high-maintenance tickers.

Suddenly the door flew open, and in staggered the portly Dr. Gasper, a chief cardiologist. He was red-faced and gasping for air. I jumped up and helped him to the exam table, where he lay flat and still fought to breathe. I pressed my fingers to his right carotid artery and took his pulse. It was rapid and thready, about 90 beats per minute.

“Possible tachycardia!” I yelled. I asked him if he had any chest pain, but he failed to answer. I immediately ran to the door, opened it and yelled, “Nurse, I need an EKG machine and three baby aspirins in exam room No. 3! Possible myocardial infarction!”

A shocked nurse entered, told me to sit, and addressed Dr. Gasper, who had caught his breath, and was now sitting up. “Doctor, why is your patient examining you?” She asked.

Dr. Gasper, still panting, mumbled, “The elevator’s out again, nine damned flights of stairs. I’m all right, get me Michaels’ file.”

Despite my heroic efforts, Dr. Gasper seemed annoyed and angry with me. He thumbed through my file, shook his head and sarcastically snapped, “If you’ve got a bucket list, you’d better start working on it. Dr. Blackheart took a side trip to Antigua, so make another appointment for next month. Any problems, go to the ER. You obviously know the drill.” He then left and slammed the door behind him.

I watched him leave, muttered “Ingrate!” and left the cardiology unit. After staggering down nine flights of stairs, I needed to rest my overheated cane. I exited the medical center and went to its adjoining dive bar, the “Recovery Room.” After downing a couple of Rainier Ales—appropriately nicknamed “Green Death”—I began to ponder a bucket list.

My list would eschew adventure and travel, as I adhere to the Confucian truism, “Wherever you go, there you are.” Materialism depresses me and romance eludes me, so all that remained, thankfully, was gluttony.

As an homage to my lifetime of gluttony, I decided to recreate some of the delicious, long lost dishes of my youth that I craved, most of which began the process of my eventual membership in the Golden Stent club.

First was a tasty but defunct canned product, “Franco-American Macaroni and Cheese,” a blend of soft bucatini pasta with a silky, smooth, and savory cheddar cheese sauce. A similar canned macaroni-and-cheese product by Heinz wasn’t even close in taste and texture. Many times, I slurped down an entire 14-ounce can of Franco-American macaroni and cheese, luxuriating in the lovely, tender tastiness of the bucatini. Today’s restaurant renditions of mac and cheese are often wonderful, but none match the velvety succulence of Franco-American.

It didn’t take long to replicate the delicacy, using canned products and overcooked bucatini to maintain authenticity.

The second treat featured a treasured culinary staple of the Baby Boomer generation, a Banquet Italian-Style TV Dinner. The little three compartment aluminum tray held a generous portion of well-cooked mostaccioli pasta in a thick and succulent herb-infused marinara sauce. The left upper compartment of the tray held some remarkably overcooked Italian green beans, and the right compartment held a chunk of semi-edible rock-hard garlic bread. Because I ate only the mostaccioli, my mom would allow me two of the dinners, which I happily wolfed down in gluttonous glory.

It was also easy to replicate this dish, using overcooked but still toothsome pasta and a powdered spaghetti sauce mix. I didn’t bother with the vegetable and bread.

The third craving was the “Pirate Beans” from the cafeteria of East Oakland’s Frick Junior High School. I was able to enjoy the wonderful dish only twice, as the third attempt was interrupted by a riot in the lunchroom, where a belligerent fellow student sucker-punched me in the face, then wadded my lunch into a napkin that he threw at a teacher, splattering all over her hair and dress. After that, I quit eating at Frick, sticking to the relative safety of the playground and lunchtime basketball with my buddies.

The pirate beans were a simple but tasty rendition of red beans and rice, with a layer of white beans braised in a thick, smoky, porky sauce served over converted rice. The dish was topped with a layer of deliciously crispy fatty side-pork.

Re-creating the pirate beans was also easy, using 1960s-era canned products to achieve that authentic Baby Boomer flavor.

Because my gluttonous geezer’s bucket list is currently overflowing with recipes, I’ll share a few dribbles:

Almost Franco-American Macaroni and Cheese

1/2 lb. bucatini pasta
1 can Campbell’s cheddar cheese soup
3/4 cup whole milk
3 Tbsp. melted butter

1. Cook the pasta two minutes longer than package instructions—not al dente!
2. In a bowl, mix together soup, milk and butter.
3. Drain the pasta, return to the hot pot, then stir in the soup mixture.
4. Heat on simmer for three minutes, stirring.

Serves two.

Almost Banquet Italian-Style TV Dinner

8 oz. Mostaccioli pasta
1 14-oz. can Muir Glen diced tomatoes
1 pkg. McCormick thick and Zesty spaghetti sauce mix

1. Cook the pasta al dente, drain, and retain 1/2 cup pasta water. Rinse, toss with 1/3 cup olive oil, season lightly with garlic salt.
2. Prepare the sauce according to package instructions, using diced tomatoes instead of tomato paste.
3. Toss pasta with sauce. If too thick, add pasta water.

Serves two.

Frick Junior High School Cafeteria Pirate Beans

1 can Campbell’s Bean With Bacon Soup
2 Tbsp. butter
2 drops Tabasco sauce
1 drop Worcestershire sauce
Black pepper to taste
2 servings prepared Minute Rice
3 slices thick smoked bacon, baked until just crispy

1. Heat soup using only 1/2 can water, stir over medium heat until smooth.
2. Add butter, letting it melt into beans.
3. Stir in Tabasco, Worcestershire, and pepper.
4. Pour over rice.
5. Crumble bacon over top.

Serves two.

Gil Michaels is a riot at gil@alamedapost.com . His writing is collected at AlamedaPost.com/Gil-Michaels .

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