Adlay Oatmeal Deluxe

Posted by on June 3, 2012

It tests your faith...and your stomach

Evening, readers

Do you eat people? I understand that it is usually socially unacceptable, but I suppose that it must be necessary sometimes (see the Donner Party). On the other hand, we sometimes eat people because we’re crazy criminals, like Jeffrey Dahmer, or because we’re high off of bath salts, like the face-eating guy in Florida (where else?) (Sorry Florida, but you make it so hard to be nice).

Well, quite recently, I had the opportunity to take part in this taboo tradition…sort of. So, don’t worry too much. In this particular experience, I, had biblical characters (in the forms of legumes) in my mouth. This was odd, as this very rarely happens to me. Let me elaborate on my time with this humanoid home cookin’. I was given by my colleague an odd can with Chinese font on it claiming to be Adlay Oatmeal Deluxe. It was shaped similarly to a can of Ching Poo Luong, with the same foldable spoon kept under the lid. By the way, this utensil will become increasingly common over the next several articles. Anyhow, I examined the can, as the provider of the odd container listed off some of the ingredients.

“There’s Job’s Tears (also known as Adlay), Devil’s Tongue (also known as voodoo lily), and Mung beans,” he said.

At this point, I immediately interrupted him and inquired about Job’s tears. For some reason, Devil’s Tongue didn’t strike me as odd. Sure, Job had many reasons to be sad, but it is a little strange to… well, bottle up 2000+ year old tears and put them in a strange, bean-y soup. Either way, after a short intermission, my other crazy culinary connoisseur and me prepared to consume the contents of the can of Adlay Oatmeal Deluxe. We took the cap off, and I unfolded the odd spoon into it’s full (albeit still diminutive) length. Then, we peeled back the metal top, and observed our nourishment. There were a series of differently shaped bean-like objects, some with black dots on them, all completely blanched. They were submerged in a pale, sort of clear yellow/white liquid. It smelled of beans and stale peanuts. My anticipation turned into anxiety as I brought the now full spoon up to my mouth. The florescent lighting above me bounced off of the liquid, illuminating the pallid elliptical prisms as spilled onto my tongue. Almost immediately, my taste buds wanted nothing of Adlay Oatmeal Deluxe. I did my best not to gag, and worked even harder not to expel the food completely. It tasted sort of like it smelled: stale peanuts and stale beans rotting away in their own fluids. Because of this, the were mushy, turning into a granular paste as soon as I chewed on them.  I was saved by a partially pleasant peanut portion at the end of my experience, but not enough to enjoy it. I hoped it was an acquired taste, one that I would gain after a second try. So, I put the filled spoon in my mouth again. This time, I couldn’t take it. I ran outside, and spit out the strange solvent.

My compatriot wasn’t hazed. He had experienced Ching Poo Luong. Also, he couldn’t smell on that particular day, which certainly was helpful for him.

Long story short, I was miserable when I had Adlay Oatmeal Deluxe in my mouth. I just hope that Adlay Oatmeal Standard is any better. Maybe it has less major religious figures, like demigods, or at least something slightly more recent. Anyways, if you know what is good for you, stay away. Adlay Oatmeal Deluxe is at the same level as Chrysanthemum Drink as far as recommendations go. As a parting sentiment, stay away from cannibalism (and Florida and bath salts) as well.



5 Responses to Adlay Oatmeal Deluxe

  1. David Rice

    The Devil with his forked tongue spake unto Job, saying, “for forty days and forty nights thou shalt consume naught but Adlay Oatmeal Deluxe.” And Job did weep many tears, for this was the greatest of his trials.

  2. Arren Kimbel-Sannit

    This comment makes me incredibly happy.

  3. Professor Eunice Podsnap

    IHave been reading your reviews and other miscellaneous commentary with interest. You may, indeed, remember that I sent you a note of appreciation recently, using the Computer of a colleague, Professor Bobby Kimbel, with whom, as I understand ,
    you are somewhat familiar.
    I find the wit,elegance, and depth of knowledge of your essays so engaging that I hope you will agree to further
    enhance the Pleasure of your readers by devoting time to an essay on your life experiences; to wit: what,,dear sir, led you to the great altruistic impulse of becoming the ” public taster?”
    I must admit to having many specific questions, but will hold them for a later time. (I am rushing to complete an article on the linguistic relationship between “moon” and “mooning”- prompted by your very own erudite essay on Venus, etc.)
    Hoping you will find my request for some biographical information not invasive, I remain, as always, your humble servant, Professor Eunice Podsnap

    of your readers

    • Professor Eunice Podsnap

      In reviewing your piece on eating people, I was reminded of the way in which this was practiced in 18th century England with great approval, for example, by the great Jonathan Swift, whose recommendation was so helpful in stabilizing the population of said country. The title of his essay is, “A Modest Proposal,” which I believe you can access on line. The single news item you refer to in your article would be of no help in this regard, and, indeed,only makes more work for the poor street cleaners.
      As always, I remain, your humble servant, Professor Eunice Podsnap

  4. Arren Kimbel-Sannit

    I appreciate your comment, Professor Podsnap. In response to the latter half of your second comment, I imagine that, as they reside in Florida, there isn’t any room for more bad to happen to the Floridian street cleaners.

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