Why Did I Eat This?

The Bread Bowl Pasta from Domino's had fallen so far down the to-do list that I almost forgot about it (that's a lie). While I didn't think about it every day, I was nervous that it would be taken off the menu before I could subject myself to such torture.  Unwilling to drive the 20 minutes to pick it up (the slogan's "Get the Door. It's Domino's," not "Get in the Car. It's Domino's."), I was certain that the Bread Bowl Pasta would leave this world before passing my lips.

Fortunately, we found ourselves directly in front of a Domino's on our way home from rug shopping, and it was just late enough that cooking dinner would have been too hectic.  Some curse timing; I champion its crucial role in the instant gratification of rationalization. It's one of the soupiest, hottest, hurts-to-breathe days of the year, and I'm eating penne alfredo out of a bread bowl.  What the hell is wrong with me?  To save yourself the calories (which you should), here's a list of why you shouldn't follow suit:

1. It's not that it tastes bad. It tastes bad for you.  I'm usually fine with this, but when every bite is followed by a stabbing pain in your chest, it takes the fun out of eating.
2. It's summer.
3. Their new crust--which shows up here in bread bowl form--is taken straight from the Pizza Hut playbook: saturated in grease.
4. It's the middle of summer.
5. The pasta was overcooked to the point of being gummy. I expected overcooked, but they went way overboard.

We all know that I'm stupid enough to try this again, but I'll probably (hopefully) wait until it's not 90 degrees out.  I don't recommend it, but it you must, please wait until winter to eat this.  Buen provecho.

Why Did I Eat This?

There are few places more depressing than family night at Uno Pizzeria (especially when you're one of six diners), but your options are severely limited when your plan to "just go and get the BJ's membership" turns into "Maybe we do need a gallon of mayonnaise," and "Sure, we'll definitely finish this suitcase of mixed greens before it wilts," until you've clocked a few laps around the discount warehouse, you're hungry, and more importantly, the baby is hungry.  Under these circumstances, the best choice is always the closest establishment that serves beer and more than likely just reheats their pre-packaged entrees, thereby ensuring prompt service.  Uno was a no-brainer.

Not wanting pizza and feeling perpetually guilty about eating red meat (I'm almost at the point where I feel guilty eating meat in general, which is a real turnaround for me.  It's also a huge bummer), I opted for "Rattlesnake Pasta," penne and grilled chicken in a cream sauce topped with shredded cheddar cheese and pickled jalapenos.  I rationalize ordering the unhealthiest thing on the menu based on both price and the fact that eating such crap only happens once in a while, even if once in a while sometimes means twice a week. This dish was definitely in that category. 

After a well executed magic trick by a ponytailed magician (and a subsequent awkward moment deciding whether or not I had to tip him and then not tipping him*), the pasta arrived in all its gooey glory.  Except that, as you can see, the combination of cold weather and air conditioning caused the sauce to congeal.  Coupled with a stingy sprinkling of cheddar and jalapenos, I was left with forkful after forkful of bland penne.  Each bit made me more depressed, which made me eat more, which made me more depressed (just like poor Fat Bastard).  Our waiter, a rotund and clearly stoned version of Luke Wilson (who looks a bit hefty himself in the AT&T commercials), said it was his favorite.  In retrospect, it probably wasn't the best idea to take a recommendation from Johnny Blaze, but you live and learn, which is really the essence of Why Did I Eat This?  Buen provecho.

*Steve G, if you're reading this, what's the protocol?

Why Did I Eat This?

This has been a very long time coming, and it took plenty of whining on my part to convince Mrs. Gastro to give in, but finally, months after the ad where all those (paid) idiots gush over how deliciously non-pizza hutty it tastes, we ordered the Tuscani pasta--one half Bacon Mac 'n' Cheese, one half Chicken Alfredo, one whole piece of shit.

With that, the bad news:

1. The "chicken" is of the hyperprocessed-and-molded-into-strips variety. I'm surprised that it's not breaded, but the release of the Domino's Bread Bowl Pasta may just be the boost Pizza Hut needs to up the ante in the "kill you faster" race.

2. The rest of the Chicken Alfredo mess had a 10:1 ratio of garlic flavor to everything else.

3. The pasta is a bunch of diminutive spirals that are better fit for spooning than forking.

4. You're eating pasta from Pizza Hut.

But there is a silver lining:

1. Bacon (or the bacon flavored chewy chunks of who knows what) truly does make everything better.

2. Since you're getting half portions of each, you feel slightly better about eating the whole thing in one sitting.

3. Delivery means that the work effort involved is reduced to walking from the couch to the door and calculating the tip. Even better, the pasta's congealed enough that you could probably eat it with your hands, eliminating the need to use any utensils whatsoever.

4. I have managed once again to line the pockets of the ad men (good news for them, at least).

If those people really were convinced that this pasta came from a fancy restaurant, I feel sorry for them, but I feel even more sorry for myself. I knew that the pasta was coming from Pizza Hut, and I still ordered it. To my darling Mrs. Gastro, I'm heartily sorry. I should have heeded your warning. Buen provecho.

Paper Covers Rock, Vinny's Beats Carmine's

My darling wife and I were out on the town last night for a Broadway show (thanks again, sweetheart). With its close proximity to the great white way and its "if it ain't broke, don't fix it" consistency, we decided upon the classic one-two punch of Carmine's caesar salad and penne alla vodka with chicken, and while we were not disappointed in the least, we both agreed that Vinny's rendition of the same pasta dish kicks the crap out of Carmine's. Buen provecho.