Indian #1: Dammit! I told you not to come this way! Every damn time we come this way, the canoe gets full of all this damn grass seed! It gets all over me.
Indian #2: So what? It's just grass seed. Brush it off.
Indian #1: It gets everywhere! Look! It's all over the venison haunch! Yuck!
Indian #2: Wash it off, eh?
[author's note: This did not happen in Canada. People in Canada don't really say, "eh?" all the time. This Indian just talks like that.]
Indian #1: Easier said than done, buddy boy. Last time we came this way, I thought I had it all washed off, and it got into the stew and got cooked and we actually ate it.
Indian #2: How was it?
Indian #1: How do you think it was? It tasted like freaking grass seed!
SECOND INDIAN CHUCKLES
Indian #1: You think that's funny?
Indian #2: No, I was just thinking: I bet if we scraped this stuff up and put it in a nice pouch and called it something fancy, like ....
Indian #1: Premium Grass Seed.
Indian #2: No, something foodie. Like Gourmet Grass.
Indian #1: Tastee Seed.
Indian #2: Wild Grass.
Indian #1: Nothing grassy. Nobody would deliberately eat grass.
Indian #2: I'd eat it in a brownie.
Indian #1: You ain't right. Anyway, call it ... Wild Rice. Wild Rice, yeah. So then what?
Indian #2: Then we sell it to the white man for big bucks. Tell them all about how difficult it is to gather. How we go out in the still of the morning, with the call of the birds and the presence of the Great Spirit, yada, yada, yada.
Indian #1: Bro, you are brilliant! We're rich!
~ ~ ~
Guess who had wild rice for supper last night? Guess who didn't like it?
I pan-roasted some portobello mushrooms, put in the wild rice and water, some salt, carrots, celery, onions and a bit of garlic-infused olive oil. Would have been delicious, if that damn grass seed hadn't gotten into it.
Do you like wild rice? How do you cook it?
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