Yesterday 3% of the entire U. S. consumption of avocados, or 80 million pounds, was prepared as guacamole, and chomped down on chips. To prepare for the day, the meat counter at Whole Foods prominently displayed football-shaped meatloaves complete with julienned-onion “stitches,” the neighborhood bakery: gridiron cupcakes and frosted football sugar cookies. A Google Web search for the term “Super Bowl party” returns almost 38 million results – even the New York Times published a compendium of Super Bowl party recipes and articles from their archives. I’ve heard about Super Bowl parties everywhere from the Playboy Mansion to the White House so, although I’m not a big follower of football, I think I’d be remiss if I didn’t at least acknowledge this day.
We did have a Super Bowl party of sorts: by the second quarter of the game the four of us had gathered together in front of the television after working or walking. Kid One sat with his laptop doing homework. Kid Two was looking forward to the game; he discovered football this season, understands the rules and the game, and appreciates its physicality. He watched until about the beginning of the fourth quarter when he got distracted by his own laptop. LL was enthusiastically cheering on the Saints the whole way through. I sat there with my own laptop, trying to find an expensive French-made jacket from last season somewhere inexpensively on ebay and enjoying everyone’s company.
Together we enthusiastically watched the commercials, though – going online to try and get the free pair of Dockers and dialing the 877 number Barney Stinson finally revealed. But they were darker than I remember. In one spot, a flying Dorito/ninja star killed a man, and in another, a man was buried in a coffin fill of Doritos. Chickens screamed for Denny’s (maybe that was to keep the lines shorter for their free Grand Slam breakfast special tomorrow). And why the midget jokes? A midget KISS tribute band? Not as disturbing to me as the Punxatwney Polamalu bit. Even the trailers I saw were scary – both for the movie Alice in Wonderland and the video game based on Dante’s Inferno. Presumably this reflects out national mindset; if so, maybe we’re getting one step closer to Idiocracy.
But we did eat guacamole. Kid Two made the night before according to my newly-developed secret family recipe: put on some music (Black Eyed Peas’ “I Gotta Feeling”) and while the rest of the family dances around you, scoop out the centers of two avocados and smash them with a fork, mixing in a big tablespoonful of cream cheese and a splash of pickle juice. Non-traditional, maybe. No particularly photogenic, either. Delicious, definitely.