” By the deep six” was the original leadsman call with the sounding line. Deep-six means to dispose of something overboard. Something deep-sixed is gone; six fathoms gone. That’s what occurred to me when I ruined the omelet I was about to serve my wife and father-in-law onboard Psyche. But I had used the last of the eggs, and after a bit of reflection, I served it with a flourish and glibly told them it was a specialty item – a frittata.
I should have known from previous experiences that the “new” was that enemy of the good in their family. The Cap’n right away shot me a dirty look and asked if I had put in “..any of those damn New York Spices…” Being that salt and pepper were on the approved list, I could honestly say no. My wife gamely tasted it and smiled, “it doesn’t taste anything like an omelet, Wes.” It was about as close to praise as I’d get this morning. The Cap’n pulled a face, “There’ too much cheese in it! What’s this? A piece of pepper?”
I had already started boiling water for oatmeal before the call came simultaneously from both that they’d prefer some oatmeal. So both scrapped the eggs into the waste bin, and I placed the maple syrup on the table along with the packets of ready-cooked oatmeal that they preferred. Then, having lost my appetite, I deep-sixed the eggs overboard and started thinking about the dinner menu.
It might be dicey, but how would they react to a beef stew if I called it ragout de boeuf?

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