Mike Solo Fangif

Eater recently answered the question, "Why Philly's Mike Solomonov is the Genius of Modern Jewish Cooking" (go read this, it's really good). In honor of the honor, I made this super sweet bobblehead GIF in my spare time* yesterday of a young Mike at Purim. That is all. Enjoy your Friday, folks.

Oh yeah, and put all of the CookNSolo restaurants on your must eat list. It's no secret that they're all really fuckin' great. Buen provecho.

*By spare time I mean time when I should be doing things that actually benefit society.

Joe Biden Caught With Federal Donuts, Jimi Has Questions.

Excuse me while I quiz this guy.

Dear Twitter, please allow us to add gifs to our tweets.

The Fat Ham Isn't Open for Lunch Anymore

(Fidel Gastro eagerly walks up Walnut St and into The Fat Ham)

The Fat Ham Employees: We're not open for lunch.

(awkward stares you'd expect from the dudes behind the counter at Supreme)

Me: Really? Fuck.

(walks out of The Fat Ham. Has a shitty turkey melt at the "Irish" pub next door. Cries)

In case you didn't already know, The Fat Ham is no longer open for lunch as previously advertised. Buen Provecho.

Since We're All Talking About Chicken Anyway

I figured it would be a much better idea to post this video instead of throwing out my two pennies about Chick-fil-A.  It's unclear whether the dancing KyoChon chicken mascot is a hatemonger, but goddamn it if their fried chicken isn't some of the best I've ever had.

I will say this, however.  Fuck the fucking higher-ups at Chick-fil-A for making all of us choose between eating something delicious and taking the moral high ground.  Buen provecho.

Why Did I Eat This?

I feel bad for Wendy's.  Without Dave Thomas, the marketing's not the same, nor will it ever be.  For whatever reason, it was like they didn't even have to try under his watchful four eyes.  Now, they're flailing like the rest of the fast food giants, not only with their completely forgettable marketing campaigns, but also with their "throw a bunch of shit at the wall and hope something sticks" method of introducing new dishes.  Their latest attempt—a spicy chicken sandwich topped with pepper jack, bacon, and "natural" guacamole—was the first one in a long time to grab my attention, primarily because of the word "natural."  I'm assuming that they couldn't legally use the term "fresh" and figured "natural" would convey the same idea, but when I looked under the hood, the guacamole's neon-green hue reminded me of Ecto-cooler, and it had the telltale tang of something mass produced and infused with whatever acidic chemical is used to prevent it from turning greyish-brown.  Guacamole notwithstanding, I still ate the whole damn thing in five seconds, and the reasoning is simple.  The spicy chicken breast is one of the greatest and best tasting innovations in fast food, and the toppings are no match for its bold flavor, so the only thing you really taste besides the chicken is regret.  Try it if you must (Serious Eats and DidjaEat? both liked it), but my recommendation is to stick with the standard.  Buen provecho.

Federal Freakin' Donuts is Worth the Early Long Lunch

I'm late to the party, but it's nowhere near finished.  In its third week of being open, the birds at Federal Donuts continue to fly out the door.  I showed up at 11:50 A.M.—ten minutes before chicken service is supposed to start—and I was already order number 35 and 36.  When I walked in, a small crowd leisurely waited for their chicken, each of us holding our golden post-it notes.  The good part about the wait is that you can have a coffee and a donut for an appetizer; the bad part is that you run the risk of spoiling your appetite.  This actually isn't a worry for a fat ass like me, but it's something to think about if you're one of those people who actually listens to their stomach.

Starting with a nutella-tehina-pomegranate donut and an iced coffee, it was immediately evident why the closing time on their website is listed as "'til it's gone."  The sugary sponge studded with sesame seeds begins with the heart smart tartness of pomegranate and ends with the richness of the chocolate-hazelnut spread I stole from Pat Keller's pantry in high school because it was so good.  Still waiting and still calm (because you're guaranteed a couple orders of chicken), the POS crashed, and this is where things got slightly hairy.  I had intended on using a debit card for my orders of harissa and chile-garlic chicken, but without modern technology, I was fucked.  Thankfully—and keep this in mind if you wind up in the same situation—there was an ATM at the beer distributor on Washington Avenue, a few short blocks away.  Clocking what was probably the fastest 1/4 mile I've ever ran, I made it back, and before even taking a bite of the chicken, this is where the place went from good to great.  Because of the computer turmoil (they will one day turn on us, as evidenced by this mishap), the staff was extremely apologetic, comping my coffee and throwing a couple donuts into my takeout bag.  Even if I made it all the way back to my office and the chicken sucked, this kind of service would make it worth returning again and again.  But that's not how the rest of my day transpired.  It was a lot more like this:

Tooth-chippingly crispy (a very good thing), spicy, and cooked flawlessly, I can't wait to have it again.  Buen provecho.