Here at Chainsaw Buffet, one of the defining characteristics of our Maitre d’ (aside from his unnatural attachment to his Altair 8800) is the fact that, with a little coaxing, he will in fact eat anything put in front of him. This is not surprising, considering that he lives in a dumpster. Taking advantage of his propensity to sample culinary delicacies ranging from raw fish to refrigerator-temperature Hamburger Helper to cat food-and-pickle smoothies, we are pleased to present a series focusing exclusively on Dylan (and any other hapless participants) trying the strangest things the Chef can cook up.
Our first test is comparatively mild, and yet bizarre (again, not unlike the Maitre d’ himself). Dylan, our esteemed Maitre d’, will try one of the Chef’s newest creations, an innocuous-sounding yet disturbing thing: a fried Nutella and banana sandwich.
For those not yet familiar with this wonderful foodstuff, Nutella is a creamy paste made from hazelnuts, chocolate, and the souls of young Italian boys. It masquerades as a peanut butter alternative, but in reality it’s nothing more than the richest imported candy ever to be spread on unworthy American bread. Its ability to bore cavities in your teeth at the mere sight of the jar is matched only by its overwhelming fat content. If you don’t believe me, just look at the label – that’s 11 grams of fat in a mere two tablespoons. It’s like a jar of chocolate-and-hazelnut-flavored Crisco.
Somehow, the Chef took it upon himself (all the while talking about himself in third person) to make this unbelievably delicious stuff more tasty, but to make it even more unhealthy than ever before. For this, I turned to the King not only of rock and roll, but of unhealthy living. Taking a page from Elvis’s book, I started with one of the boy from Mississippi’s favorites: the classic peanut butter-and-banana sandwich (hold the reds and blues), preferably fried with butter.
Perhaps not so coincidentally, one of the Chef’s own favorite ways of eating Nutella is spread on slices of banana, and since Nutella tries (and fails) to market itself as a peanut butter sort of thing, making a King Special and substituting in Nutella seemed like a natural match. Or so I thought, anyway.
We’ll get into the specifics of preparing the sandwich in a moment, but for now we must state our hypothesis, since this is an experiment of sorts. We hypothesize that Goat (as he is sometimes called) will in fact eat this unholy combination of things, and we will document his reactions. If he curls up in the fetal position or explodes or turns into a big lizard, we can assume that the sandwich isn’t safe for human consumption.