Eight hundred dollars for pots and pans?

Josh looked up from his phone.

They normally cost fifteen.

Taylor’s anger bubbled over like an unwatched pot of pasta.

Are you crazy?

No, just hungry.

With both of us not working we can’t even afford to go out for tacos and you’re spending the rent money on pots and pans?

We call it graphite-infused cookware.

Who’s we?

Foodies.

You mean that pack of hipster losers who Zoomed with you every Friday night for the past year to talk about the cooking shows you watched on TV?

Everybody’s finally getting together in person here this Friday night.

Over my dead body they are.

Don’t you push your micro-aggression on me, Taylor.

You don’t even cook, Josh.

Learning to prepare meals the right way takes time. Chefs need training with proper ingredients. We need proper tools.

You want tools I’ll give you a screw driver. The hinges on the bedroom door are falling off.

 Veal piccata sounds nice. I wish we had some veal.

Canned beans sounds better because that’s all we have left in the kitchen cupboard.

Josh put on a dreamy face.

I’ll slice the meat as thin as rice paper, dredge the portions in flour, brown, then serve in a sauce containing lemon juice, butter, and capers.

Josh’s face took a turn for the worse, like sliding on ice in Vermont and hitting a tree head-on.

You’re not telling me we don’t have any capers, are you?

I’m telling you if you keep this up I’ll grill your fat ass over an open pit because we’ll have nothing left to eat.

Body shaming doesn’t become you, Taylor.

Body slamming is more like it.

Taylor rushed Josh with all the urgency of a walk-on Penn State linebacker blitzing a third-string quarterback for a chance at a scholarship. Josh squealed and ran into the bedroom. Taylor’s cell phone played a Lady Gaga ring tone. Her girlfriend Brittany screamed at the other end.

You won’t believe what Justin bought, she said.

Taylor felt faint and tried to catch her breath.

He signed us up for weekly bulk meat delivery, steaks, chops, lobsters and even pre-sculpted burgers packed in dry ice and shipped fresh from Wichita, Brittany said.

I didn’t know they had lobsters in Wichita, Taylor said.

Buffalo meat, even, Brittany said.

Josh bought pots and pans, Taylor said.

Justin says he’s bringing meat over to your house Friday to help Josh cook some dinner.

You coming?

Yeah, I guess, Brittany said.

Taylor truly didn’t want to ask but simply couldn’t help herself.

Just by chance, Justin doesn’t have any veal, does he?