Sad and Distasteful was not how Bennet described the chicken cordon bleu.
WASHINGTON — Not everyone attending the White House Correspondents’ Association Dinner was entertained by comedian Wanda Sykes. Count Bill Bennet as one of them. CNN’s Wolfe Blitzer sat down in the Situation Room© with the colossal Bennet, who was still visibly upset moved over the Dinner. Yes. The Dinner.
Blitzer:
So tell our audience: How offended were you by the over-the-line jokes told by African-American comedian Wanda Sykes?
Bennet:
Lemme start by being completely honest. If there was one food that I could eat every day for the rest of my life, it would probably be chicken cordon bleu. It has all— well, a few— of my favorite ingredients in it. There’s delicious chicken, tangy Swiss cheese, and succulent ham. You get the chicken hot, and the cheese begins to ooze out all over it, and then more cheese pools out when you cut into it for your first steamy bite. Just talking about it makes me wish I had one to eat right now.
Blitzer:
So tell our viewers: which joke in particular by comedian Sykes crossed the line into shameless attack on the opposition party, that would be the Republican party.
Bennet:
Lemme tell your viewers: the kitchen was nice enough to send me over six cordon blues; but I can only say one bad thing about them. They should have sent me twenty. All things considered, it’s not such a bad thing to have to say about them. Those gourmet Chicken Cordon Bleus were hands down the best that I have ever had. In fact, I think they have ruined me for any other Chicken Cordon Bleu options.
Blitzer:
Let our viewers know how you felt, for instance, when Sykes joked that comedian Rush— excuse me, Republican Party Head Rush Limbaugh, had committed treason?
Bennet:
I’m getting to that. But first let me give you an idea of how good these cheesy breasts really are. At my house, I will generally let Carmelita Esquella cook up the food that comes in, and when Elaine Bennet and I sit down for dinner, I immediately weigh in on how good or bad it is. Just coincidentally, I had a cordon bleu at an early dinner at Marcel’s, uh, before the Correspondents’ Dinner, because I didn’t want to appear to be over-eating or anything in front of the press; you know how they are. It was a measly 8 ounces, which may sound paltry, but it was meal worthy, and actually came close to filling me up, what with the other six or seven courses.
I’m pretty tight with Ramón, their sommelier, so I try to drop by regularly just to say hi, how’s the red? you know. Ramón wasn’t working Saturday, so I ordered the Kona Kampachi Crudo to get things started; that’s got the ginger, yuzu and sweet soy, Alaskan Ivory Salmon, a little red onion, baby arugula with balsamic shallots, a couple roasted beets, a little goat cheese; (I usually just stick with the lobster bisque, but, and I admit it, I’m just unpredictble on the weekends; yep;) so I pushed that aside as soon as I could for the Gâteau of Crab with aged sherry shallot butter. You can chomp through that in a jiffy and get to Marcel’s fricassee of sweetbreads with korabuta ham and shitakes, or like me, stay conservative with the pan seared foie gras and roasted pears. Nothing offensive there, I assure you.
And then you’re ready; that’s when they bring out “Le Bleu.” Of course this is no ordinary supermarket Redball yard chicken. This is a free-range New England Cornish. You know the Cornish, Wolf? It originated in Cornwall, a heavy, muscular bird that, honest to God, can barely lay an egg. But nothing tastes like a Cornish; whether it’s the Cornish Game or the Jubilee Cornish Game, they’re superb, but the Jubilee is going to be much lighter, so I insist Marcel use the Indian Game, which is often called the “Bulldog” of chickens.
It started out, you know, because people wanted to cross the Asian game breeds with the old English game, to create a fantastic fighter. What they got, though, was not the right build for fighting— the hips were too wide or something— but they got a fantastic meat bird.
Now, when you cut open this deliciously moist breaded chicken breast, you are greeted with some really remarkable and scrumptious Canadian bacon, and the creamiest, most delicious Swiss cheese that I’ve ever tasted. It was absolute heaven, and I highly recommend it to any of your viewers that like Chicken Cordon Bleu. Hell, all you have to like is the chicken, really, to like these.
But I’m forgetting the cheese course. Have you ever had the Humboldt Fog, Wolf? A little roasted apricot and vanilla tossed in? It kills, let me tell you, it kills. Well, sorry to go on, I see you’re getting impatient, so just to wrap up, I had their somewhat meagerly portioned Valrhona Chocolate Mouse Tower with raspberry coulis for dessert, and scooted on over to the Correspondent’s dinner.
And I’ve already told you how fabulous the bleu was there— the best. But what i didn’t mention yet was that as I started to cut into that succulent sixth breast o’ bleu, Wanda Sykes gets up there and makes a mockery of everything that is decent in this country! I mean, come on; what the hell is this! Honestly, my stomach started churning; I couldn’t sit through another minute of it. I had to abandon that sweet sixth breast and get the hell out of there! It was simply sad and distasteful! Not the meal, the “comedy.”
Why the look?
Blitzer:
(Apparently rendered speechless, goes to commercial.)
Very funny, Michael.
Uhh, let’s go with off white. Well, make that beige.
Okay, toffee. Or maybe mocha.
Hey KarenZip,
Thank you and welcome to USojo! (who doesn’t love a woman who can follow orders; does nonnie send you out for Dijon mustard?) As soon as we find out who writes this blog, we’ll twitter you; will you be wearing white at the wedding?
Nonniekins, you are so frakkin’ clever; I don’t know how long it’s gonna take me to learn I should let you review my stuff before I post… 😉
Hey Fearguth,
I get nauseous just thinking of Bill Bennet and the word “thigh” in the same sentence.
Nonnie sent me.
This is the funniest freakin’ thing I’ve read in 40 years.
I’ve never been here before but whoever writes this Blog, I love you and want to marry you.
😆 at least he didn’t sing the praises of dijon mustard. that would’ve been elitist!
So Bennett is a breast man, eh? I always had him figured as a thigh man.