First, it was fresh fruit. Apparently, the Kelownans and their neighbors spent more time inventing new and gruesome ways of murdering one another, and less time developing efficient methods for transporting and storing produce. The only way you got fresh fruits and veggies in Kelowna was if you lived on or near a farm, or if you were wealthy enough to have access to weekly deliveries. In the middle of winter? Nope, not a chance. Dehydrated or canned, those were the only options.
When the novelty of that wore off—not completely, mind you, more subsided than anything—it was on to mayonnaise. Mayonnaise with everything, mayonnaise on everything. On french fries and broccoli? Odd, but acceptable. On waffles and Polish sausages? No thanks! And once Jonas discovered the art of dipping foods into a glob of mayonnaise, he went a little off the dip end.
Dip end? Get it? Dip... deep? Oh, never mind.
Carter told me about his onion-ring-and-chocolate-milkshake experiment. Teal'c kept me apprised of the pimento-spread-and-Oreo-cookie test. Doc treated him for stomach cramps after a bowl of hot salsa violently disagreed with Rocky Mountain Oysters.
Come to think of it, it was probably just the "oysters". Thankfully, Carter talked him out of those fried tarantulas. I draw the line at eating arachnids.
Anyway, it should have come as no surprise to anyone that Jonas would continue to expand his culinary experiences. All it took was one trip through the frozen foods section at Wal-Mart, and our resident Kelownan was hooked on microwave dinners. Hungry Man, Healthy Choice, and Hot Pockets, nothing nuke-able negated his notice. (Try saying that five times fast!)
It was Carter's idea to get him a microwave for his quarters, one he could stick on top of his mini-fridge like in a college kid's dorm room, but we all should've seen this coming. Jonas' people are "allegedly" pretty smart, but they all seem to have this complete brain-common sense disconnect when it comes to dangerous forms of energy. Jonas understood the principle behind the microwave oven, but failed to apply that theoretical know-how to practical use.
One fine Saturday morning, Jonas decided to reheat his leftovers from the local hibachi grill. You know those cute little baskets the chefs make out of aluminum foil? Yep, he put metal in a microwave.
The security camera in the hall outside his quarters caught a brilliant flash of light, which I'm told was a rather impressive electrical arc. The sprinklers kicked in about fifteen seconds later, soaking everything in Jonas' room, but not quite putting out the roaring fire consuming the leftover rice, roasting the aluminum foil, and melting the plastic on both appliances. By the time a quick-thinking airman snuffed the fire out with an extinguisher, the microwave and fridge were inseparably fused together.
For his latest culinary endeavor? Well, I've bamboozled him good by telling him no one's ever tried white bread sandwiches made with peanut butter and grape jelly. So far, he likes it.