Mouse Toaster. In Red
Before I get started on my epicurean epistle, let me declare unequivocally that, as a chef, I highly recommend that you do NOT eat hotdogs.
I mean, sure when you’re a child with a limited palate, and your parents don't care if you get ill from eating filth, sure, why not?!
Then, it’s all fun and take me out to the ball games. Back them Joey Chestnut is an obese child's superhero, but once you have passed through adolescence eating a hotdog is gross! It is like getting a rotten filet mignon from the dumpster, running it over and over with your car, and then shoving the contents, asphalt and all, into a used condom, and putting it in your mouth!
I wouldn’t even let my cat eat a hot dog!
Speaking of my cat, Pie Fieri (PF for short), though he is not named for my love of the Food Network huckster, but only because he looks like him, a fat loud tabby with a shock of yellow hair... anyhoo, I bought this wonderful cooking tool just for Pie Fieri.
Each night I would come home from the tony restaurant where I work to the tiny apartment where I live, and have to play a literal game of cat and mouse, only it involved me trying to find out where PF hid a mouse he brought in from the alleyway.
I’ve heard of cats bringing in rats and mice as a gift to their owners, but PF likes to make it more of a scavenger hunt. And if I don’t find the mouse, my apartment will reek. Unlike the typical cat, PF does NOT consume these mice that he catches. As the pet of a chef, he’s had a different upbringing and knows better than to consume raw meat. I think he means to dry them into a jerky. But drying mice smell!
It had gotten bad enough that I didn't know what to do! I had even thought about trying to give him away on Craigslist, even though I love his obstinate little pudding face. Then one evening, I saw this hotdog toaster on the Bezos Jungle Webstore. I was initially disgusted because, you know -- hotdogs, yecch -- but before I could scroll past, inspiration struck me!
I could cook PF's mice in it.
Don't be grossed out! I mean mice are what these little tigers actually catch, not tuna, or turkeys. They can catch mice, which means they are built to eat them. Once I cooked the rodents, by sliding them in the space where those gross hot dogs might go, then PF realized what a lovely meal they were and he stopped hiding them! Instead he leaves them in the same place every day now so I can pop them in when I got home.
If you’re thinking this is terrible of me, I’d like to remind you that I am a chef; I definitely know how to prepare mice correctly. Plus, these mice aren’t your every day, ordinary rodents; these are Upper East Side mice, they are cleaner than half of the foul-mouthed hedge funders living in New York City.
An extra added bonus - I’ve saved tons of money on fancy cat food!
I’ve also been messing with desserts recently, as PF has a sweet tooth just like his mother. I’ve always wanted to come up with a special sweet treat for my little guy, but I’ve always been afraid of giving him too much sugar. However, one night when I had a little bit too much champagne and escargot at a 90's themed-party in Astoria, I came home and created PF’s new favorite midnight snack: Chocolate Mouse! It’s almost exactly like chocolate mousse, but more... mousey. Let’s just say I have the most spoiled cat in New York.
To see the look of joy and satisfaction on PF’s cute little face is one of the best feelings in the world. Honestly, it is more enjoyable than impressing a food critic! This former hot-dog toaster has brought us so much closer together! There’s nothing more calming than sitting in front of the television watching me some Real Housewives, a glass of Merlot in hand, and PF enjoying his nicely cooked meal on the floor next to my slipper-clad feet.
No longer do I have to worry about finding a dead mouse between my sheets, nor do I have to worry what PF is eating. All those reasons considered, leads me to the rating of 5 out of 5 Bezos. Bon Appetit!