An Easter to Remember

"The sausage has risen; the sausage has risen indeed."

I must start by stating that this is my (Tyler's) maiden voyage on our blog.  I've left the musings of our family up to my diligent wife, knowing the blog world favors a scrapbooker and a homemaker over an ambitious change junkie with a heavy dose of ADD.  However, something happened this past Easter that the likes of Twitter and Facebook simply could not contain.  So here's to my first blog entry, and hopefully a couple chuckles along the way!

The story begins exactly one week prior to Easter Sunday.  Carrie and I were out to lunch with friends and the discussion landed on upcoming Easter plans.  The three couples discovered that no one had any specific obligations, so we decided on an evening get together.  Like good Americans, the talk immediately gravitated to food and whose bringing what and how much.  It quickly hit me as we were discussing the guest list, that none of the invitees were Nebraska natives.  I proposed a dinner meal that was sure to be as much of an experience as it was tasty...

The cream can.

For those unfortunate to have missed this experience so far in life, let me explain.  In short, cram an exorbitant amount of food in a can, fill it with beer, cook, eat.  Beautiful.  This has been a favorite in my family and I was beyond excited to share a good ole mid-western tradition with my friends.  All week I anticipated what was sure to be one amazing meal.

Sunday comes.  Game day.  Carrie informs me of the ingredients she's purchased.  "Not enough," I say, "more meat!"  My secret goal is to fill our 8 gallon cream can. 

So we purchase more.  The guest list has inflated a bit, so I use that as my justification for purchasing more sausage than...  (edited for Carrie's blog audience).  We then begin work on prepping the goods.  We end up with a legitimate pile of potatoes, corn, cabbage, carrots, onions, kielbasa, italian sausage, and brats.  Not to mention 10 bottles of beer.

 After Cruz added that last bottle of beer, it was out to the turkey frier.  I gave the lid a few good solid taps with a hammer, fired up the propane, and away we go.  As past experience has shown, this would need to cook for a good 90 minutes.  Back inside to watch the Masters.

This day was setting up beautifully.  Bubba Watson has been one of my favorite golfers since 2008 and seeing him put on the green jacket after his playoff victory had me grinning from ear to ear.  The evening was grand.  Kids in the backyard finding eggs, friends in front enjoying a beverage, and all around the anticipation of a unique and delicious feast.  It's go time.

I ran out back to grab my buddy, Matt.  Matt was taking pictures of the kids and I wanted him to follow me out front to capture the unveiling of this beast of a meal.  I shut down the heat and pulled the can off the burner.  In my family, it is tradition to pop the top off the can and dump the contents into a large bin.  I planned on following suit.  The lids on these cans are metal against metal, so I knew I would need the assistance of my hammer.

  As I made my first couple taps, I heard Matt jokingly say, "let me stand back."  I chuckled and said, "ahhhhh, it's not like it's going to blow up or anything."  And then on the next tap of the hammer...

I really don't have the words to explain what proceeded to happen in the next few seconds.  After being blasted with a cloud of steam, I realized that the contents of my beloved cream can were being rocketed up into the sky with what appeared to be mach 3 speeds.  The sound was equivalent to some form of a sonic boom, and time seemed to stand still for a moment.  That moment didn't last too long.  I was welcomed back to reality with laughter from Matt and screams from Jeremy.  I quickly discovered the screams were from being pelted with boiling hot sausage and potatoes.  It was raining food on Jeremy and I.

This unbelievable image that Matt captured was at the moment of explosion.  The amazing thing, as recalled by the three of us, is that the food left the can in a geyser like fashion.  It did not simply blow up around the can.  It was propelled high into the Easter sky, then mushroomed like an atomic bomb.  We're thinking the metal lid probably reached a height between 40 and 60 feet.  All of us recall seeing the food launch out of the can, then a pause, then the sound of a rainstorm.  Except this rain was scalding hot sausage and vegetables that had been obliterated by my cream can pressure bomb.

What happened in the moments and hours following will forever be etched in my memory.  I was really upset and angry at first.  I had been excited all week to share this meal with my friends.  And now, it was lying pathetic in my driveway... and yard... and on my house... and on my second story roof... and in the street...

However, things turned comical seeing the faces of everyone rushing from the back yard to see what the explosion was all about.  All the hours Carrie and I spent preparing, not to mention all the money in groceries, were no match for the hysteria that came in the following hours. 

One of the more poetic sidebars to the story came at the expense of my good friend, Jeremy.  Last Easter, Jeremy had us all doubled over when he showed up to our worship service in stark white pants.  The now infamous white pants became a bit of a (not so) inside joke.  Jeremy did us all a solid by continuing the Easter tradition this year.  Even better, he left them on all day and showed up to party like a true metro.  As fate would have it, only one other person besides myself would experience the sausage rain...  Jeremy... and his white pants...

 Can white pants survive the terror of rocket propelled food?  Time can only tell.  I do know that it took a considerable amount of pressure washing force to remove food from my siding, driveway, and lawn chairs.  I sure hope the Pietrocini's are stocked up on bleach.

When it was all said and done, my highly anticipated cream can meal, was reduced to this...

Where did the other 40 lbs. of food go?  Well, I can account for a few pounds in Jeremy's hair.  Perhaps another 5 or 10 lbs. in the lawn.  But the rest?  Perhaps it ascended to heaven like our Savior some 2,000 years ago.  The way I see it, Jesus wanted this meal as bad as me.  He called it to the heavens in exchange for a story that many of us will tell until we see Him again.

Happy Easter!

Tyler