Food is Dramatic – Life is Delicious.
Episode 38: Sex, Lies and Paella
by Mad Hard Pie
It was Sunday night, and through some strange twist of fate, I found myself sitting at Barcelona with world-renowned transsexual entertainers and symbols of excellence, Pi Heya and Fay Berianham. I know, how many more drag queens are going to name themselves after Spanish cuisine? Can’t we move our pun names to bathroom cleaning products or something?
I digress.
The gruesome twosome, most famous for their heavy drinking and penchant for starting bar fires, had called earlier in the day, claiming to have three tickets to the sold out Engelbert Humperdinck concert, and informed me that if I wanted to come, they were going to put me through the requisite pre-show meal. I had no choice; I had to break bread with them if I ever wanted to hear “Quando, quando, quando.” Out of fear they might embarrass me, I suggested we eat at an establishment no one ever frequents – like Black Olive, but Fay insisted upon Barcelona. Humperdinck and perfectly executed Spanish-inspired cuisine? How could I refuse?
“Barcherlona,” said the Asian Pi, struggling with the pronunciation in the same way she struggled to get knee-high boots around her massive calves. The three of us sat at a beautifully appointed table in the back, cocktails and menus in hand.
“It’s pronounced ‘Barthelona’ if you’re Castilian lisping it” I said, sipping at my glass of Avanti Pinot Grigio, savoring its flavor, and dreaming of being home in bed.
“Barskerlonga,” said Pi, frowning as she spoke. She obviously recognized that though the sounds coming out of her mouth weren’t right, she was powerless to change them.
Sighing, I spoke. “You know Pi, why don’t you just stick with the girl that brought you, and use your existing lisp, eh?” I took another large swig of wine.
“Salty, gurl,” said Fay, looking up from her menu for just long enough to give me a withering look, and take a deep gulp of her Harvey Wallbanger.
“Yea, yea, Pi put you in wheeling chair if you make fun. No joke!” said Pi, her broken English almost an homage to Short Round of Indiana Jones fame.
I began to respond to Pi, but gave up when our very attractive waiter Michael arrived and took our order. Paella and a Caesar for Fay, Cabra Pimenta and the Zarzuela for me, and the Jamon Iberica de Bellota and the solomillo for Pi.
With the waiter gone, and our menus no longer held in front of our faces to protect us, the battle for our table began. Pi started by lighting a cigarette, and throwing back her entire Sloe Gin fizz. With the liquor gone, she then beat her tiny Asian fist on the table screaming, “Bring more booze, chop chop!”
While this went on, Fay reached into her enormous purse, took out a solo cup-sized pill bottle, removed a football shaped pill, and popped it in her mouth. When she set the pill bottle on the table, my eyes immediately went to the name of the doctor, who was a well-known veterinarian.
“Mother of God, Fay! What the hell are those?” I asked, my tone one of disbelief.
“Horse tranqs. Percocets haven’t worked since Claudia Mann and I went to Fantasy Fest last year. Now THAT was a vacation. I woke up in a nursing home with a man’s dentures tangled in my wig,” she said calmly as she, too, lit a cigarette.
“Sweet merciful Jesus, Fay! Those pills are for animals! And neither of you can smoke in here!” Fay ignored me, as she finished her drink in one gulp, and then grabbed a passing waiter and ordered two more for her, and the no-longer-screeching Pi. The waiter had the good sense to have them put their cigarettes out, which they did reluctantly.
It was just then we were interrupted – thankfully – by the arrival of our first bites of sustenance. The Jamon Iberico was razor thin and fragrant in a meaty sort of way. Pi immediately attacked it, shoving large fistfuls of the tender meat into her exotic-looking face.
“This ham taste like salty butter. Melt in mouth. Best ham ever in mouth,” said Pi, nodding vigorously as she spoke.
“Jai ho, girl! It’s acorn fed, sea-salt cured for three years, and just recently legal in the United States; of course it tastes good! I love Iberian ham,” said Fay Hiberianham as one large collagen-filled hand grabbed at the meat, and the other stuffed forkfuls of salad into her mouth. “This Caesar is the T, honey. I could sleep inside these sourdough croutons. Y’all are late for not ordering this. L-A-T-T-E. That’s with two ts and an e!”
Trying to block them out, I focused on my Cabra Pimienta. The soft, supple goat cheese was perfectly matched with the marcona almond butter. I was enjoying it thoroughly until Fay put afore mentioned collagen hand into the cheese, taking what she pleased like a Soviet leader or member of the Bush family.
“Oh this is good too. I’d love to have this injected into my lips,” said Fay, as she continued to stuff her face.
Pi shook her head “no,” and then spoke. “Not cheaper than caulk. Caulk for cheeks, lips and butt!”
I shook my head and focused on my beloved Engelbert. The girls chatted for several moments about how Cover Girl doesn’t cover boy.
With our appetizers finished, our entrées began to arrive. I immediately dove into my Zarzuela, with each bite tasting better than the last. The rich saffron broth, the perfectly cook lobster, scallops and mussels, and the savory and earthy potatoes puree tickled my tongue. The food was heaven, the company was hell!
I assumed that Pi was enjoying her solomillo, because of her grunting and her occasional mumbling in Korean. I could smell delicious beef tenderloin, the blue cheese and bacon butter, and caught myself eyeing the braised kale more than once. This caused Pi to begin eyeing me strangely.
“You no take food. Pi eat meat. You eat dirty sea animal broth, hmm?” said Pi, as she moved her plate away from me like a wild animal trying to protect it’s young.
Put off by Pi’s glare, I turned to see Fay stuffing her mouth with paella.
“Is it good, Fay?” I asked, trying to make conversation.
Fay nodded. “The combination of the sofrito, chicken and chorizo is like having a stripper in my mouth in the basement of Havana! Delicious!”
Not sure of how to respond, I focused on my food until I was finished, attempting to ignore the conversation taking place between Pi and Fay. They were discussing how one might create a new “peach” with a letter opener and an iced cream scoop.
When the check arrived, the girls sat in silence without moving. I hesitantly reached for the check and paid the tab. As I signed the bill, Fay spoke.
“Ok, let’s go see Maria at Tradewinds.”
“What?” I said. “What about Engelbert?”
Pi smiled “No Engelbert. We make lie to you, you buy fancy dinner. Now we go see hairy Cory pretend to make strip.”
Shocked I sat in silence for several moments, before I turned to each of them and said “You’re both bitches, and no one believes you as drag queens. Hell, no one believes you as men either. I’m not paying cover for T-dubs so don’t even think about it.”
