Have You Seen This Meat Platter?

LOST:
One shiny meat platter, about two feet long. Meat not included. Sentimental value. Please call if found.

Like people, sometimes food needs an accessory or two. This morning, when I reached for my trusty shiny meat platter to serve as the presentation dish for an office birthday cake, it was not in its normal storage spot in the cabinet. I then proceeded to turn the kitchen upside down looking for my shiny friend.

If I concentrate really hard, I realize that I have no idea whatsoever when was the last time I saw my meat platter. It was often used this summer at barbecues, and occasionally gets trotted out for receptions, but no recent memory of its being comes to mind. At the same time, at two feet, it is hard to misplace.

So my theory is that Mrs. Chao has taken my meat platter. The story of Mrs. Chao started over fifteen years ago, when my mom was running a steamed bun business out of our kitchen. Word got around that she was commercializing and soon, the orders started pouring in. My dad and I did our best to help out, mostly by eating Red Bean Buns that had failed to rise properly. But it soon became clear that my mom needed extra help - real help.

Perhaps tapping her Amway experience, my mom decided to get a friend involved, Mrs. Chao. Mrs. Chao was apparently a horrible cook, but sometimes those who are clueless in the kitchen can be good assistants as they will do exactly as you say. Looking back on this, perhaps my mom enlisted Mrs. Chao because she was less of an espionage risk. Whatever she learned in my mom's kitchen, it seemed doubtful Mrs. Chao could replicate it herself elsewhere.

One day, my mom was doing inventory (which was stored crammed into our family freezer) and noticed that she was short one hundred dumplings. How my mom could so precisely account for her dumplings, I don't know. She turned the kitchen inside and out looking for dumplings. I mean, a bag of one hundred dumplings does not just get up and walk out of the kitchen.

Or does it?

As they day wore on and dumplings remained MIA, my mom settled on a suspect - Mrs. Chao. Mrs. Chao had stolen her dumplings! One hundred of them! An inside embezzlement job -- a shrewdly calculated crime.

I personally wondered why Mrs. Chao would steal one hundred dumplings. I can't remember how my mom paid her for her help but certainly an arrangement could have been struck using dumplings as currency. (They are, after all, modeled after Chinese currency from the old days.) But my mom was sure - Mrs. Chao had stolen the dumplings, betraying her in a way she never thought a friend could. This was not the Amway way.

The next day, my mom found the dumplings. She had miscounted. Mrs. Chao was exonerated, but there must have been some kind of confrontation because I never saw Mrs. Chao after that. Shortly thereafter, the steamed bun business folded, and the kitchen was thankfully returned to ordinary family use.

To this day, the family often jokes about Mrs. Chao when we can't seem to find something.

"Where's the vacuum cleaner?"

"Maybe Mrs. Chao took it."

"Have you seen my favorite jacket?"

"I think Mrs. Chao is wearing it."

"Mrs. Chao has been stealing the socks out of the dryer again!"

Mrs. Chao was and still is everywhere. In fact, she followed me from LA when I moved to Alaska. My first year in the Little Yellow House, when our snow shovel disappeared, I cursed Mrs. Chao, waving my empty hands at the piles of snow.

"MRS. CHAAAOOO!"

I know that Mrs. Chao has my meat platter. Who can blame her given its wonderful size and shiny, mirror-like surface? If there is a platter to be coveted, it would be My Beloved Meat Platter. That Mrs. Chao is no fool.

Regardless, Mrs. Chao, if you're reading this, please give my meat platter back! I'll trade you a bag of dumplings.