Ethical Consumption
You ever watch that British baking program where they’re all sweet & polite
& you just know one of those contestants is gonna someday serve their partner up in a meat pie
& the hosts will be disappointed with the bake—
you know the show? There’s an American version, I think, probably with more bragging & lard.
My nextdoor neighbor watches that show, the British one, to unwind after work,
at wall-shaking volume because he can’t understand the accents
& he reads too slow for captions. He works evenings, gets home at 3 a.m., a couple of hours into my dreamtime.
We don’t talk much because of our schedules, but when I do see him he fills me in
on all the pastries in the technical & the architectural catastrophes of the show-stopper
& who used too much fruit or not enough rum & the whimsical antics of the hosts
& what he’d like to cook up with the hot Asian contestant
(I guess there’s always a hot Asian contestant, along with someone from Ireland or Wales,
and somebody who grew up shoveling coal & eating rats),
so now I know 7 kinds of dough & what “pâtisserie” means & the names & hobbies of 50 people I’ll never meet
& I’ve digested more of my neighbor’s nasty fantasies than my own,
usually underproved & badly constructed with a light bigotry filling.
I have unused credit at the used book store. Lately I’ve been browsing the cooking section.
I’ve always wanted to try tongue.
— Sturgis Giteau
10/15/25
Halloween Day 15