This is egg pie, not quiche. The reason I know that to be a fact is that I am eating it and real men don't eat quiche. I have to admit that it bears a striking resemblance to quiche, but it is, in reality, egg pie. Now, Ginny made this particular egg pie, and she did great job because (1)it was properly cooked, (2)it contained a half pound of bacon(definitely a manly ingredient) and (3) it contained sh*tloads of swiss cheese. A definite treat, this egg pie.
Now, if it had contained spinach, tofu, broccoli and any such other limp wristed ingredient, it would be immediately identifiable as quiche, which in not a manly food. Therefore it would only be consumable by females and guys who probably wished (in their heart of hearts) that they were female. This should be avoided at all costs. One thing that I have to admit is that I drank some wine with this egg pie. You are probably thinking that this is starting to sound like I participated in a female whine fest, but I certainly did not. The fact that I actually drank wine with the egg pie is totally offset by the fact that I prepared for the meal with a more than generous dose of Johnny Walker Red, and I washed it all down with another dose of Johnny Walker Red. This would be the only manly way to offset the effects of White Zinfandel (which is actually pink, by the way). At least it wasn't Chablis. I cringe at the thought of a man ordering Chablis for himself at a bar. That thought gives me nightmares. If you have to order wine at a bar (I can't imagine why, unless you were attempting to pick some babe up) you should request "the white stuff." It must be said in a devil may care manner and you must follow up by ordering a beer chaser. That way you can move the wine you ordered toward the lady and keep the beer close to you so that nobody will think you are actually drinking wine. Plus, if you lady friend has two glasses of wine in front of her, you buddies might just think you are about to get lucky. Remember, it is the thought that counts.
The use of Johnny Walker Red before and after consumption of the so-called "egg pie" is impressive and merits praise. However, the attempt to disguise the very un-manly food as something acceptable is a serious breach of ethics (shades of Paul Wolfowitz!). I am forced to view CHABLIS in a new light: a Certain Houston Agent’s Babbling Leads Inevitably to Stupor. The author’s not-so-brief monologue has depleted me to the point that I must repair to a quiet room and consume mass quantities of Irish cream or cherry vanilla ice cream, both of which are exceeding manly in character.
