Fandom High School

"Well," Summer said, standing at the front of the class all by her lonesome, unless you counted the koala clinging to her like an adorable furry backpack right now, "as you can see, my coteacher is currently indisposed as a cute marsupial at the moment--"

Had Stark been a koala when they left Paintball yesterday. No. No he had not been. Had he turned into one pretty much at the worst time imaginable once they'd gotten to her place to clean up after paintball? Yes. Yes, of course he did. And was Summer still mad about it?

Actually, no, it was annoying and irritating at the time, sure, but now she was just sort of resigned to her fate of koala-sitting once again, but don't think she wasn't considering just orphan-dropping him on front of the fire station again at some point, dammit!

"--one that I tried to leave at home but was clearly not having any of it, so if he changes back to normal in the middle of class, please know that I tried to spare everyone from that particular fate, and cannot be held accountable. Maybe the shirt will help, I don't know, we can only hope."

Because, oh, yeah, sidenote, the koala was sporting a pretty sweet Hawaiian shirt at the moment, too. As both back-up in the event of a mid-class transformation and because, look, when you had the chance to put a koala in a cute Hawaiian shirt, you just did it, okay?

"Now," she continued, "clearly, we focus a lot on American vintage recipes in this class, mostly because that's taking from my own culture and upbringing, but when your co-teacher turns into a strictly Australian marsupial, I felt I could stand to do a little digging and see what vintage Australian recipes I could find for us to consider. For a country notoriously founded as a place for Britain to send there criminals, are their 20th century indulgences crimes against cul-manity? Or do they pale in comparison to what the bright march of American exceptionalism has to offer? Let's find out!

"This week, we'll be trying an Australian beer cake, some toffees that are literally given the very descriptive title of 'stickjaw,' and then finally, I recreated two cakes featured in Women's Weekly at some point in its history: one of them a duck and one of them that involves gelatin, so of course I had to do it.

"And then I realized they were all desserts, so we also got some apricot chicken, which, really, when you get right down to it? Is pretty weird for something that seems to work and is apparently a big thing down there, if Google is to be believed."

"Morning, everyone," Summer greeted everyone from the front of the classroom with her usual pre-torture grin on her face. "Hope your stomachs enjoyed getting a little break from weird ass foods of antiquity last week, thanks to me being a squirrel. Which, by the way, has historically been on the menu for thousands of years, but out of....I don't know....respect? for our nosy little rodent plague, I kindly decided to skip that particular food this semester.

"That said, something about spending a week as a squirrel also made me a little more reluctant about making stuffed doormouse for this class this week, which was definitely on the agenda, because the ancient Romans looooved that shit, but, there was one incongruously present fauna on this island that showed up on a lot of ancient tables that we will be sampling today. No, not the porgs, I'm not a monster, but instead, flamingos.

"Specifically," she continued, moving to reveal the dish, "their tongues.

"Now, eating bird tongues seems to have really gone out of fashion in the last centuries, with the occasional exception of duck tongues, which I've also made today so you can compare, but I assure you, no Fandom ducks or flamingos were harmed in the production of today's offerings. They also were fond of flamingo meat, as well as parrot, so I've got a little roasted flamingo for you to try, as well.

"Please note," she added, "that flamingo tongue the dish shouldn't be confused with flamingo tongue snails, which are honestly super adorable and pretty, but, I'd be hard pressed to mention snails without also mentioning that ancient Romans also really liked snails. Especially this Apicius guy. Which, I mean, you know, definitely stuck around in modern times, escargot is a thing, but I also decided to bring to you guys his recipe for milk-fed snails, which is basically sponging snails with milk so much that they get so fat they can't retreat into their shells any more, so you then fry them up and eat them, which, if anything, should open up a nice discussion on if some of the real crimes involved with some foods we eat have to do with what's done to the animals it comes from. Why do I have no problem frying up bird tongues and gorging snails on dairy, but balk at stuffing dormice and squirrel stew and frying porgs? Why did mid-century Americans feel it was okay to slather mayonnaise onto literally everything? What about modern hipsters and bacon? I think, if anything, it just comes to show that today's trends are tomorrow's culinary crimes, and that's just really somethng interesting to think about...

"Anyway!" She beamed at them after a bit of a pause for, you know, tossing in some actual philosophical discussion or whatever at everyone that morning. "Bon appétit!"

In addition to the usual cloches of mystery food waiting to be revealed in front of her, Summer also had a large amphora in front of her, a pitcher of....something, surrounded by glasses, and a pleased smile on her face. Now, whether or not you wanted to take that as a worrisome sort of thing was up to you.

"Morning, everyone," she started. "Glad to see the maggots didn't chase all of you off. I almost feel, after starting with a doozy like that, some of you are about to be disappointed with today," let's face it, Summer always felt people would be disappointed, "as we're definitely taking quite a few steps back from the edge with today's focus, going straight to the basics, essentially, and that's going to be with garum.

"Now, garum, a quote-unquote 'frequently misunderstood food, was a staple in the Ancient Mediterranean world and it's essentially a sauce made from fermented fish intestines that have been salted and sitting in the sun and in some brine for a considerable amount of time. This stuff was, like, ubiquitous, too, people would put this shit on everything like a condiment or mix it in with other dishes to enhance the flavor. The quality of the garum you used would definitely be a status symbol, although not everyone was down with pouring rotted fish gut juice all over their food. Seneca even described it as an 'expensive bloody mass of decayed fish' that'll definitely lead to 'consum[ing] the stomach with its salted putrefaction, and one anthropologist credits garum specifically with the spread of fish tapeworms throughout the ancient world, too, so even back then, it was causing a little bit of controversy.

"It's frequently compared to current, more contemporary Asian-style fish sauces, just less saltier and bit a funkier. You know, probably because of all the rotting fish guts, blood, and viscera. Some batches could sit for just a few days, some for up to a year. I've had this bad boy," she plopped a hand on the amphora, "sitting in a pocket dimension with an accelerated timeframe, so it's only been a week for us, but a month there. In general, the thinner the garum, the better it was considered, because it was mostly just the good stuff skimmed off the top while the thicker stuff was more dense with the gross stuff, and therefor less refined.

"Of course, I encourage everyone to sort of try the garum on its own and maybe speculate on what you'd use this with, if you'd want to use it at all. I have some meats and breads if you want to see how it works with something to carry it, and I've also whipped up some pear patina, because who doesn't want fermented fish sauce in their desserts? And also a pasta dish, because it guess it sort of works like an even smellier puttanesca.


"And, to wash it all down, we have posca, or at least, our best estimation of it, because the details on it are a little fuzzy. But, basically, it's vinegar water. And it was mostly considered a soldiers' drink to keep them marching. Odds are, the vinegar helped cover up any questionable elements of the water you were drinking and may have helped kill bacteria, as well as lead to a fuller-feeling stomach, so drink up, guys.

"And I should definitely start bringing mints for everyone after this class...."

"And so," said Summer, grinning from the front of the classroom as usual, "we've finally come to our last class...unless you take my follow-up during the next session, but, of course, I feel it's only appropriate, for our last official meeting of this session, to go back to the beginning and focus on what lead me down this horrible path in the first place: gelatin.

"Now, see, the nice thing about gelatin is that it's incredibly diverse. You can literally put anything in that shit, and, over the centuries, many people have, but it was really during the mid-century that people really decided to go buck-wild with it with the increasing popularity of commercialized gelatin brands like Jell-O. It was a really unique way to let their creativity fly and, boy did they. Now, since it's so ubiquitous, I could probably put anything in jello to present to this class, but I've decided to pick some real fan favorites and stunning choices to discuss today.

"So let's take a moment to talk about and discuss whether Spaghetti-os and Hot Dogs have any business being in this form, whether this jellied tomato refresher is really all that refreshing, how we feel about a noodle ring with creamed chicken, and finally, we explore 7-Up and Cheese.

"Also," she added, almost as if a side note, "it's not jello, but I also made these prawn stuffed apples, because it almost felt like a crime to finish off this class without including them."

"You know," said Summer, shaking her head a little as she stood in front of the class with three new shiny cloches on the counter to better reveal the mind-boggling retro concoctions she'd be subjecting them all to today, "sometimes, I think I've definitely got a direction I'd like to take the class when we get there at the beginning of the week, and then, usually at the very last minute, I stumble across something so ridiculousamazing that I have to reroute that shit like a GPS. These ones aren't even gross, and the only crime I would levy against them is excess and being stupendously extra, but, of course, I just couldn't not share them with you all.

"Because, y'all....I've got a goddamn Fruit Salad Treasure Chest."

She lifted the cloche to reveal said treasure chest in all its pineapple and mayonnaise-"gilded" glory.

"I mean," said Summer. "Just look at it. It is so dumb, and I love it, and I had to share it. And, naturally, in the spirit of making a pineapple look like something it's not, I thought we'd discuss the classic making-something-look-like-a-pineapple example of the liver sausage pineapple. And of course, to finish us out, because all good things come in threes, I'd like you all to meet Frankie Doodle Dandy, one of many attempts to make meals more fun for kids that wind up pretty much probably just being nightmare fuel. There were a lot of options in that category to choose from that I might use another class to focus on it, but there's just something about Frankie here that feels particularly....visceral that I just couldn't pass up.

"Anyway, there's plenty here to enjoy, so come on up, give some of it a try, and we'll continue on our ultimate quest as to whether they were onto something here or if it's definitely time to give the past a lifetime sentence for..."

She looked back, at the liver pineapple in particular. "This."

For all the mess her kitchen had been made into yesterday in her desperate attempts to always feel like she needed to outdo herself, Summer had ultimately decided to go a little simpler for today's lesson, and honestly? She felt much better doing it. Truth day definitely had a way of wearing you down, even when you embrace its absurdity fully, and she just wanted to keep it light today.

Still (hopefully) ridiculous and bewildering, but ultimately light.

"Today," she started, once it was time to get everything going, "I wanted to focus on how the last century could take something as unassuming and simple as, say, a melon or a head of lettuce or celery, and try to....dress it up in a way that is absurd, unnecessarily, and, perhaps, even criminal. So allow me to introduce you to three real, actual recipes that people made and, presumably, consumed, and we're going to give them a try and figure out whether or not such things deserve to be thrown into food jail once and for all.

"Allow me a moment to present to you a stuffed melon covered in cream cheese, a stuffed head of iceberg lettuce, and, the most offensive of all, I think, especially since nothing is even stuffed here, but we have boiled celery with pimento. That last one was a 'calorie counter' recipe, which is apt, since I'm pretty sure it would put you off from food entirely.

"So come on up, let's explore the reasons why these foods even exist in the first place."

Okay, this whole lack of sleep thing suuuuuucked, and Summer was just ready to get through whatever kind of weekend they were building up to so they could be done with it and move on with their lives and maybe sleep for the next few years as a result, but, right now, she had a terrible class to teach while feeling terrible, and clinging to a cup of coffee for dear life.

"Hey, everyone," she said, sighing heavily and not even caring that she was slouching on the counter of the community center's kitchen classroom and probably looking like she hadn't slept in four days because guess what she hadn't! "Welcome to Ancient Food Crimes, a class where we explore some of the most disturbing and traumatic food events of the past century, maybe a little before that, because some of the things those people did to food are too terrifying and disgusting to just ignore. Or maybe you actually like that sort of thing. Who knows? I've met all sorts of people and I've met all sorts of foods that they're still willing to put into their mouths.

"Now, I looked at the roster, and I know most of you, but there are a few names I'm less familiar with, so, lucky you guys, you're in for a treat. Anyway, my name is Summer Smith, I'm sort of notorious around here for doing terrible things to jello, and I hope to prove it to you in this course. Why do I do this? Who knows? Maybe just because it's fun."

And it got her a weird amount of validation, popularity, and a strange sense of accomplishment, three things she desperately craved even more than sleep. Yes, even right now. Give her that tasty, tasty validation, and she'll be fine never sleeping ever again.

"And I don't know how many of you are really affected by this whole sleep thing...I know it's definitely kicking my ass. So I feel like introducing you guys to some of the really messed up shit right off the bat is going to to some mega-regrettable nightmares down the road. So today, even though it deprives us of at least one truly cursed vintage recipe, I just can't in good conscious actually subject any of you to that in my current state. Well. That's not entirely true. Since I haven't been sleeping, I did make..."

And here was when she moved over to a clouche that had definitely been there the whole time and lifted it up to reveal....a monstrosity and an accompanying beverage.

"....these, soooo...."

She did not look like a proud woman in this moment, no.

"I guess what we're going to do is...since it's the first class and I'm tired as hell, is come on up, help yourself to a little bit of my sleep-deprived madness if you're feeling so bold, and tell us who you are, any allergies I should be aware of, how you've ended up in this class, and, if you can think of it, what's the worst thing you've probably ever eaten."

There was a slight pause. "I'm not sure my answer is actually appropriate for a classroom setting," she offered, and then looked over the room. "Who's next?"