It’s Tortilla Time

My uncle’s visit has been filled with apples, exotic pastas, card games, televised boxing and enough Antiques Roadshow to shake a stick at.

My Uncle Randy is a phenomenal chef, a fact that I was previously unaware of. My mother isn’t as adventurous in the kitchen, and so Ben and I weren’t accustomed to his lavish cooking style. There were many meals in which Ben and I exchanged awkward glances and forced the food down our unwilling throats.

No one dares to tell my Uncle that they dislike his food. We learnt this life lesson years ago, following Ben’s unfortunate eggplant incident.

There were also meals that were so good I thought that my head was going to explode.

My Uncle Randy complains about many things. He complained yesterday because I was watching Legally Blonde as I completed my World Issues homework, mumbling inaudible words as he exited the room in a huff.

His big issue, however, was with the apples that my mum had in stock. They were sub par according to his standards and expertise. He ventured to the grocery store and purchased three massive bags of apples that he deemed reasonable. We have been consuming these apples as if it’s going out of style, though I am still unable to taste the difference.

Whenever my Uncle saw the Foodland Ontario commercial on television, something terrible would happen; his face would turn crimson, he would erupt. He despises that jingle more than anything else in the world. I would secretly pray that the commercial would come on, just so that I could watch his subsequent freak out. Sometimes I would wake up in the morning, creep down the stairs, and hear my uncle yelling AH NOT THAT BLOODY COMMERCIAL AGAIN from the living room. This was a normal occurrence.

Sometimes when we’d play cards (a favourite past time of his) Ben and I would quietly hum the tune of the jingle. Then he’d erupt and chyme in with his own verse:
Good things grow in the fungus of my toe!