amusedThis time that was, before me or you or the great-great-grandfolks of your great-great-grand-folks were gettin' fucked into being -- a while ago, I'm sayin' -- back before we figured out how to make walls out of air or how to slice water or how to safely eat batteries (which solved everyone's lethargy), things were hella simpler, or at least the complicated parts of the world were ready to be safely forgotten by people of the future like you and me and those great-grand-folks I mentioned, but...
...people still needed to, y'know, EAT. There was nothing fancy to eat, though, that far back, so they ate what they could find. Or tried. They tried eating grass, they tried eating rocks, they tried eating lips -- their own -- but nothing satisfied. They even tried eating clouds, but those never got close enough. So they thought clouds must be TASTY. ("Soup In The Clouds" could be the name of a Charles Fort-themed cookbook. "From the Super-Sargasso far above comes the damned, unexplainably delicious!") The forbidden fruit of fog is the most forbidden fruit...or something...
But, one day, from out of those clouds came water. It collected in a hollow on top of a rock. The rock was near a cliff. Rain beat a bit of grass-laden sod off of the cliff. The grass splashed into the hollow. More water collected around it. The cloud emitted rumbles, then a lightning bolt. The bolt speared the water, instantly boiling it at 50,000 degrees, cooking the grass, and getting all of the surrounding human and animal life really high because apparently it was that kind of grass. (That far back, all grass was that kind of grass. Because the only way you'd want to live through that part of the past was while high.)
And people braved the smell coming from that hollow, touched the concoction that was rippling in it, recoiled, blew on their fingers, inadvertently blew on the water and cooled it down, and finally, curious about what had happened and hungry and enjoying being high but also hurting from how long it was taking for what was left of their lips to heal, they slurped up some of what was in it. And the world's first stew was born. And eaten. And enjoyed. And improved upon, because that kind of stew could stand A LOT of improving.
The story is wrong. You don't get "stone from a soup" THAT way. You got it THIS way. Remember.
And that is my home-game entry in
therealljidol for this week's topic, "Food Memory." I'm not entirely sure where the hell that entry came from.