Distilling the Douche Out of Manayunk, One Craft Beer (and One Burger) at a Time

Just in time for the September installment of Manayunk's First Friday, owner Chris Barnes and his crew at Lucky's Last Chance pull off a Robert Irvine-worthy transformation of their second floor from pseudo-club to seats aplenty.  I chatted with Chris during the demolition last week to find out why Lucky's bucked the trend of $3 u-call-its and (insert fucked up candy flavor here) shots that has been Manayunk's SOP for as long as anyone can remember,* and it turns out that the past year of being open was an experiment that ran amok. "We did the whole burger thing on a small scale to start out. We knew we had to cater to a certain population here on Main St, and that's why we kept Upstairs [at Lucky's].  We weren't really sure how far the burger and craft beer thing would go."

In a word, Chris, "Duh."

He's right, though.  Craft beer on Main St. can be a  tough sell.  On the one hand, you've got college kids (or the recently graduated) who favor quantity over quality, and on the other hand, you've got old-ass Main Liners who jump in their tiny-ass Mercedes coupes after drinking way too much wine at Derek's or Jake's.

Fortunately, there's another demographic slowly materializing, and with another level of seating and additional taps, Lucky's Last Chance will be ready for them tonight.

"We're not changing much, just adding tables, really," Chris says.  Still, it's nice to have an option in Manayunk where the food is good and I don't feel too old, too young, and I can bring the kids.  Buen Provecho.

*Nothing wrong with this, folks. Just stating facts.

The Best Thing to Come Out of A-B InBev's Acquisition of Goose Island

This year's beer options at the Linc include Goose Island IPA, an offering from the craft beer concern that was (somewhat) recently acquired by marketing machine/shit beer brewer/craft beer bully AB InBev.  Time will tell whether the quality of Goose Island's offerings will wane to Blue Moon standards, but in the meantime, you can pair your overpriced nachos with a more than fairly priced and super delicious IPA ($7.25 for a stadium-sized plastic cup).  Buen provecho.

Why Did I Eat This?

If you've been watching the Olympics, you have no doubt seen (or at least fast forwarded through) Lorena Garcia throwing prop spices on prop food to promote Taco Bell's blatant ripoff of Chipotle/Qdoba, the Cantina Bell menu.  The story we're being fed is that the Latina stereotype/current contestant on Top Chef Masters was the inspiration for the new items, drawing from her vast experience with big bold flavors.  Oh yeah, and she's Venezuelan, too.  Not sure how that translates to fast food Tex-Mex (if you can call it that), but the long and short of it is that our border buddies are trying to beat Qdotle (see what I did there?) on price, asking us consumers "Think Taco Bell Can't Do Gourmet?"

Even before trying it, the answer was obvious.  I KNOW Taco Bell can't do gourmet, but I could give a shit if they could.  I go to Taco Bell for Doritos Locos Tacos and Cheesy Gordita Crunches.  I love the powdery taste of the barely beef, the waterlogged lettuce, and sometimes even the horrible abdominal pains that remind you to stay away from it all for as long as you can.

Still, I had to try their attempt at "gourmet,"  and I was curious how the ripoff would translate when it wasn't styled and made to look as appetizing as it does on TV.  Here's a lazy list of what you can expect from their Cantina Bowl if you decide to try it for yourself:

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.

He Made How Much Last Year?

Click image to see larger

Here's some surprising and depressing news.  According to the Huffington Post, my least favorite person of all time besides the kids that fucked with me in grade school just cracked the top ten list of highest paid celebrity chefs. I'm sure he puts in the hours, but I just can't get past the Offspring haircut and the "terrible to the point where I want to start cutting myself" style.  He even beat Andrew Zimmern and Tony Bourdain.  If anyone needs me, I'll be spending the next few hours with my head in the oven.  During that time, please enjoy this infographic to see what Guy Fieri can buy for the eight million bucks he raked in last year.  Buen provecho.

If I Won the Lottery

I don't play the lottery and I think it's a sucker's bet, but in a parallel universe where I'm a blatant hoarder living in a trailer with my collection of highly flammable stuffed animals, mainlining Easy Cheese into my face for every meal, I would spend at least 95% of my government subsidy on Powerball tickets and scratch-offs.  It would also be in this parallel universe that I would win the jackpot and be ushered into the world of the nouveau riche, where I would immediately commission the Taco Fountain pictured above and buy an El Camino. Buen provecho.

Full disclosure: The Taco Fountain was actually spawned in the brain of Jason Sheehan, food editor at Philly Mag and Foobooz, the latter of which sometimes publishes my drivel.  I've kind of been obsessed with the idea since he mentioned it, and you should be, too.  Further, if you consider yourself a Maker, perhaps we could get together and build it?  I'm sure it would kill at hipster weddings.

The Easiest Paella Recipe Ever

Until I realized that being Mexican is actually super awesome*, I would lie and say I was Spanish.  Not that being Spanish made you any less of an outsider in Utah, but bullfighting was definitely more acceptable than low riders (it's a footrace regarding which one is cooler).  I suppose it's not a total lie, but the details on my ancestry are foggy, and that commercial where the white people open up a laptop and have their entire family history after a few clicks is bullshit.  What does it all mean?  Nothing, really.  It's just a roundabout way to introduce you to the easiest paella recipe ever made.  Step-by-step photo instructions after the jump.

Side Project Jerky - Now With More E-Commerce

Ladies and gentlemen, my online store is now accepting orders for our flagship jerky flavors in 2oz. packages, and shipping is free for the next two weeks.  Who's pumped?  I know Montgomery the muskox sure is.  Buen provecho.

Side Project Jerky Online Store - SHOP NOW

A Legendary French Chef Walks Into a Bar...

I exist on the periphery of tragedy.  Eleven years ago, I was five blocks away from the hole formerly known as the World Trade Center and now known as the Freedom Tower.  A year later, a giant portion of the northeast was enveloped in darkness, and I'm pretty sure my block was one of the first to get power.  Last March, I was in Tokyo during the biggest earthquake in Japan's history, and a few months later (this really wasn't a tragedy but it does fall into the category of holy-shit-that-was-intense), Mrs. Gastro missed her epidural window and had a drug-free childbirth (she was a total rockstar).  It has been quite the decade, but not even a former sommelier of Georges Perrier could prepare me for a chance meeting with him at Iron Hill Brewery last night.

The Cat is Out of the Bag

Actually, it's beef, and it's in the bag, a vacuum-sealed one to be exact.  After months in the test kitchen, I'm happy to announce my latest venture, Side Project Jerky.  Our not-so-humble mission is to provide the highest quality and best tasting jerky available, thereby spreading the beef jerky bible to jerky eaters both on the go and at the bar.  Foobooz gave us a great write-up this morning and can tell you when and where to get it in the coming months.  You can also follow us @sideprjctjerky on Twitter and check out webpage for more information.  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.

A Funny Thing Happened On the Way to Happy Hour

Dear Mr. XXXXXXX,
Thank you very much for reaching out to me regarding a recent comment I made on Foobooz about XXXXX.  It certainly came as a surprise considering that I changed my phone number not too long ago, but if my remarks warrant tracking me down, then yay me. Since I’m pretty sure that you and your management were the only people who actually bothered to read it, I’ll go ahead and post it here again for a bit more visibility:

“Have yet to have a positive experience there. Dirty glasses, stale nachos, always out of the one beer that I want on their draft list, and the staff is a bunch of jerks. The XXXXX boys need to keep a closer eye on this spot.”

The Martini Experiment

Martini on a high chair. Father of the year.

A recent visit from a couple with no kids inspired Mrs. Gastro and I to try out the Southern tradition of cocktails at 6pm.  If you're like them and your list of responsibilities is a little shorter than ours, I highly recommend following suit.  It's a great way to start the evening, and it'll slice the edge off cleaner than the sharpest of Japanese cutlery.  If you happen to have two or more kids, however, the 6pm cocktail hour plays out like a grown-up version of an after-school special. You forget about the meat on the grill, the macaroni for the kids boils to mush because you shifted your attention to the cocktail shaker, and the whole host of shit you need to do once you've finished your neglected dinner is still waiting for you three days later.  With the bender complete, it's safe to say that the martini experiment was as big a failure as my unfortunate run-in with Four Loko couple years back.  Martinis are delicious, but it's probably wise to save it for when the kids are in college and you need to self-medicate to forget about how much it's costing you.  Buen provecho.

Ozzie Guillen: It Was All a Misunderstanding

Blame the suspension on broken English (or the rain or whatever), but this is what Ozzie Guillen really meant to say.  Buen provecho.

Why Did I Eat This?

From the department of "I should have known better" comes another piece of shit breakfast sandwich from Dunkin' Donuts.  I know you have all been impatiently waiting for me to eat this, so I finally bit the stale bagel bullet (Jesus went so far as to die for your sins, so I figured it was the least I could do for the people still reading this).  Here's a quick rundown of why you should probably avoid Dunkin's Angus Steak & Egg sandwich:

1. The bagel, as is the case with all Dunkin' Donuts bagels, is chewy on the inside, but you have to gnaw through the impenetrable "crust" to get to it.  It's a lot like cutting through pork skin with a dull knife, but doing so with your teeth, and way less worth the work involved. 

2. The eggs are nothing if not consistent.  Three years later, they still taste like this.

3. I had no expectations for the "steak" other than the hope I could keep it down.  I didn't expect it to taste EXACTLY like a microwave cheeseburger, but when it did, I was at least happy that it tasted familiar.

This poor excuse for a breakfast sandwich set the tone for the rest of the day, which got more and more depressing as the "steak," "eggs," and "cheese" made their way through my system.  I suppose I should just be thankful that I didn't get (literally) crucified the day before.  Buen provecho.

A Well Roundeyed Meal: Cheu Noodle Pop-Up

With two feet firmly planted on the Ramen Radio Flyer, I snagged an early reservation for noodle nerds Ben Puchowitz and Shawn Darragh's third pop-up, held last night at Matyson.  While the simple yet complex noodle soup was definitely the draw, the rest of the menu held its own, showcasing Puchowitz's Asian abilities (rumor has it that he's really good at math, too*) as well as his talent with tails.  From start to finish, here's a lazy list of the things you should eat when you book your reservation for the next Cheu Noodle Bar.

Making a Good Idea Great: The Cheesy Dorito Crunch

Continuing my slight obsession with Taco Bell's Doritos Locos Tacos, I took the obvious next step of having the taco artists put one inside a Cheesy Gordita Crunch.  The results?  Remember Matt Levin's super poutine at Adsum?  It broke the fucking mold.  Plus, the gordita shell keeps your fingers squeaky clean.  It was well worth the extra 30 cents that they charge to combine the two.  Buen provecho.

Field Trip: Crown Burgers in Salt Lake City, Utah

A snowboarding trip to Utah isn't complete without a stop at Crown Burgers.  Their eponymous burger is a thing of beauty.  After sitting on an open flame until charred in all the right places, it's topped with a slice of yellow American cheese, a half-pound of griddled pastrami, shredded lettuce, tomato, and fry sauce (mayo folded into ketchup).  Served with French fries whose shape and thickness would be the result of a steak fry and a McDonald's fry having fry babies, I was tempted to order three more in case it took me another three years to get back to Salt Lake (and three days after returning home, I feel like a jackass that I didn't). Buen provecho.

Why Did I Eat This?

Are we certain that we should be eating these colors?

I'm going to skip the formalities and get straight to the point.  Leave work now and find your nearest Taco Bell so you too can try this brilliant combination of Doritos and dog food-grade meat that is a marriage more perfect than Danny DeVito and Rhea Perlman.  A few quick pros and cons about the experience:

Pro: It's your standard Taco Bell taco, but the shell is caked in nacho cheese powder.  There is some expectation of how it's going to taste, but nothing can prepare you for how well it goes with the taco fillings.
Con: The wet beef makes the "hinge" of the shell soggy.  If you've ever been at the beach or on the lake when some jackass forgets to close the bag of Doritos, then you know what I'm talking about.  In my case, it was just a jackass food blogger (me) taking too many pictures.

Pro: Since there is a finite amount of shell, your Dorito intake is limited by the amount of tacos you can eat instead of speed eating an entire bag of (Family Size) chips in one sitting.
Con: Powdered cheese fingers.  Although it's 2012, scientists have yet to figure out a way around this clothes-ruining nuisance (I just now realized that I could have used the cardboard sleeve to avoid this. Fuck).

Pro: $1.69 for the Supreme version.
Con: The low price guarantees that the next time I go, I'll order a dozen of them, and since I hate wasting food, I'll have to eat the entire lot.

One final note about this taco.  I'll typically go through ten packets of Fire sauce (on two tacos) with any Taco Bell meal.  I think that's standard operating procedure for most of you, but take heed that if you do so, the delicious Doritos flavor will nullified.  Buen provecho.

Launching Today: Doritos Locos Tacos

Keep your browsers tuned to Fidel Gastro today for a very special (and long overdue) entry of Why Did I Eat This?  It's a Dorito.  It's a Taco Supreme.  It's worth falling prey to the nostalgia of Taco Bell and their new "Live Más" marketing campaign, which is ironic considering this shit will kill you. But if it's anything like crossing the streams in Ghostbusters, the reward of combining two hyper-processed pseudo-Mexican products will be worth the risk.  Buen provecho.

My Toddler is Cooler Than Your Toddler

With the advent of technology and the whole "civilization" thing, I no longer have to spend the day hunting to put dinner on the table.  The upside of this arrangement is not getting eaten by a lion.  The downside is that our food is often hyper-processed, with nutrition losing to convenience nine times out of ten.  I've always said that I'm an equal opportunity eater, and I believe that there's a time and a place to eat shit, but I would be very happy if my children didn't make the same mistakes I made, sentencing them to a life wrought with self-consciouness and ill-fitting pants.

Whether or not it's a lucky break, I'm thankful that we're off to a good start.  This past Sunday after our first trip to Elevation Burger (patties needed salt but they might have Five Guys beat in the fry department), I made an Indian-spiced salmon topped with a yogurt sauce, and Toddler Gastro smiled after her first bite and asked for more.  She also ate her broccoli.  This kid rules, and the whole experience was made even better by the fact that it was super easy to cook, so processed foods can suck it.  Buen provecho.

Two Day Hangover: Big Ass Beerfest

I spent last Saturday shamelessly photographing the craft beer geek version of Pauly D in between gulps of beers whose average %ABV was in the upper 9s.  Here's a quick list of the highlights:

1. Stoudt's Old Abominable: If you don't believe in the abominable snowman (which is an abomination in itself), you probably don't believe there exists a drinkable barleywine, but this one went down way too easily.  Needless to say, I got abominably bombed.
2. Green Flash Double IPA: I hate to use the word dank, but there's no other word to describe how punishing the hops were in this palate coating pale ale.
3. Central Waters Illumination Double IPA: Nowhere near the intensity of the Green Flash, but still worth a nod for its non-syrupy and floral qualities.
4. Brooklyn Brewery Companion Wheat Wine: From the Brewmaster's Reserve series, A very subtle 10%-er with an almost sour taste.

My sincerest apologies to Mrs. Gastro for rendering myself completely useless in dealing with our daughter's double ear infection.  Buen provecho.

Tortilla Soup All Up in Your Face

Tortilla Soup isn't just my mother-in-law's favorite movie, it's also a soup, and when the cold wind blows through your uninsulated 1800s-era home, it's a welcome wintertime meal.  Growing up, Ma and Pa Gastro opted for pozole and/or chile verde, so I had little experience with the movie soup in my own kitchen.  I did make a shitty batch of it in the early 2000s, but that was so two thousand and late, so I decided to make it again, and this time it was two thousand and great.  I recommend you try it for yourself.  It was a nice way to spend a Saturday afternoon, and there was plenty left over to get out of cooking on Sunday.  Recipe after the jump.  Buen provecho.

Super Timely New Year's Eve Post

I saw something on TV that said if you eat like a pauper on New Year's Eve, you'll eat like a king for the rest of the year.  The classic dish to make is black-eyed peas, but no matter how hard I try to like them, they taste like mushy sand.  They also remind me of the band with the blind guy and the creepy ass dude that dances in the background and whose race is impossible to discern.  Struggling with an idea for poor people food, I happened upon mussels.  At three bucks a pound, they're the 99-cent value menu of shellfish, and at the Top of Hill Seafood Market in Chestnut Hill, they'll even clean them for you, making them that much easier to prepare.  Just saute some shallots and garlic, deglaze the pot with wine, then add the mussels and steam until they open up.  Then drink your face off with all of the booze your guests brought you and give yourself a high five for making such an awesome poor people dish.  Buen provecho.

The Worst Shit I Ate All Year

Wow.  What a deplorable showing in the blog post department this year.  I won't make excuses (twitter), but I will agree with Che Gruyere's father Jim that "Having two kids is like having three."  Better words have never been spoken.  Still, judging by my waistline and the fact that I currently fit into only two of the twelve pairs of pants in my closet, I must have eaten some pretty bad shit in 2011.  It's a shame that much of it went undocumented, but it makes it easy to put together a Top 10.  Better yet, here's a Top 5, because I barely made it past that number in total.  Buen provecho.

5. Manhattan Burger, Tokyo Airport McDonald's: This went undocumented on Fidel, but I did put a video on YouTube. Happy to be alive after a massive earthquake, I unhappily scarfed this sandwich down while the aftershocks continued to taunt my own insignificance.
4. BK Minis, Burger King: These sliders should be knocked out of the park, couldn't get past the catcher, or any other baseball analogy apropos for saying that we'd be happier without ever knowing they existed.
3. Big 'n' Toasty Breakfast Sandwich, Dunkin' Donuts: An annual offender, Dunkin' Donuts sold me on the idea of a fast food fried egg.  It was a lie bigger than the moon landing and the creation story combined.
2. Durian Chips: Almost missing its 2011 eligibility, it was a Christmas miracle that I could stomach this.  The dehydrated version of this foul fruit has all the fart-tastic qualities of the fresh version.
1. Ghost Pepper Steak, Jake's Sandwich Board: This was actually pretty good, but the ensuing havoc it wreaked on my insides was really really bad.

Blogroll Addition: Kyle Gibson Takes Wicked Good Photos

Jason once told me about the raisin esters in Victory Storm King

Recently added to the sidebar is photographer Kyle Gibson at theruleofthirds.com. This one here is of professional beer judge/homebrewer/amateur soccer player/salon owner/beer program coordinator/dude that looks a bit like a young George Michael or maybe Rey Mysterio Jr. if you look real quick—and good buddy Jason McLaughlin.  Kyle also counts anthropology, music, and surviving a Ph.D's worth of time in Utah among his many talents.  Since you're probably doing less than I am at work right now (it's my lunch hour, what's your excuse?), why not take a moment to check out some more of his great photography and copy?

Why Did I Eat This? Revisited: Durian Chips

Remember when I tried Southeast Asia's king of fruits alongside two comrades who squared off in a "Who Can Eat More Durian" challenge?  Well, those same two pals of mine went to Asia this past year and returned with a special Christmas gift for me: durian chips (I would have preferred a lump of coal).  Not being one to let food defeat me, I immediately opened the bag to try one, completely disregarding the fact that an entire pot luck of brunch items could resurface in the middle of my cousin's Christmas Eve party.  Check out the video above to see who wins between me and the durian.  Buen provecho.

Hey Philly, Wanna Open a Restaurant?

3rd Ward, a hub for all things creative, recently announced that they're headed down the turnpike to open a location here in Philly, and now they are looking to for somebody to keep their community of artists and makers fed. Because they walk the talk of community, they are conducting somewhat of an open casting call for the restaurant space. If you're vision aligns with theirs, I strongly urge you to check out the details in the RFP recently released on their website. There's an opportunity to get up to $80k in capital, and the process seems a lot easier than a month's worth of Quickfires and sleeping in bunk beds.  Plus, you get to work with a solid group of folks that will be a welcome addition to Philadelphia's already amazing artist community.

Biter Alert: Infidel Gastro

Look at that asshole face.  I'd like to knock that sandwich out of his hand and kick him in the chest.

This is Matt Basile, some random ass canuck who is using my name for some sandwich making enterprise that probably sucks butt.  I've currently been harassing him on twitter, but I'm tempted to make the 8-hour trip to Toronto to eat one of sandwiches, give it a horrible review, and then settle this thing one of the only two ways I know how: kumite or dance battle.

Don't get me wrong, a poutine and bacon sandwich sounds intriguing, but hasn't something like that been done before, like a year ago (RIP Adsum)?  Whatever. Good for him for following his dreams.  Bad for him for not doing better name research, and worse, being a biter.  Mr. Basile, I urge you to stop using my name, lest your dream turn into a nightmare.

P.S. I hope you get diarrhea.

The Worst $40.83 (Plus Tip) I Ever Spent

Philadelphians, feel free to chase me out of town with torches and pitchforks in hand after saying this, but I am disappointed with Chickie's & Pete's.  Don't get me wrong, a Big Gulp-sized order of fries sprinkled with a sneezeable (yes sneezeable, not sizeable) amount of Old Bay seasoning and served with American cheese sauce just seconds away from congealing into an undippable globule is great when you're watching one of our local teams break your heart.  But remove that context (along with the gallons of light beer), replace it with one screaming infant and an anomaly of a toddler who prefers vegetables instead of chicken fingers and fries (how the hell did that happen?), and you're left with food that is crappy at best.  It may have been voted the "Best Sports Bar in North America" by ESPN, and I may still want to drive home drunk from there after a long Sunday of football watching, but since I'm supposed to be writing about food, here's a quick breakdown of the crap we ate last night:

1) Crab Fries: They're just too damn thin and flimsy, especially when the cheese sauce hardens.  Furthermore, it's kind of hard to eat them when you're holding a toddler.  My sincerest apologies to my son for the Old Bay fingerprints on the onesie.
2) Chickie's Cutlets: Standard frozen and boxed chicken fingers.  How they can get away with calling them "cutlets" is beyond me.
3) Signature Salad: Bagged romaine topped with Old Bay croutons and crab fries.  A real pile of shit.
4) Cheeseburger: Pre-formed patty, terrible burger-to-bun ratio, no toppings.
5) This last one's not about food.  I just thought I would mention that I was wearing sweats when this all went down.

You may be thinking, "Jackass, you're supposed to get the seafood when you're there," or you may have just stopped reading.  If you are still reading, it's obvious from the above list that much of the food at Chickie's & Pete's is pre-made and at the ready to get unsuspecting families like mine in and out the door and/or pump out food quickly to keep the drunks at bay.  Either way, not a great family or food destination, so save it for a night out with the boys, or leave the kids in the car.  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.

First the McRib and Now Top Chef? I Love This Time of Year

Artist's interpretation of Colicchio's first elimination

For those of you still reading this poorly maintained excuse for a blog, we have kicked off Top Chef Season 9 on on Foobooz, and you can find my Episode 1 recap here.  The best part about writing for an online publication?  You can say shit more times than Jesse Pinkman does on Breaking Bad.  Looking forward to another great season of Colicchio-induced tears and drunken Padma slurs.  I hope you are, too.  Buen provecho.

So What Did You Do With Your Peck of Apples?

Although I may lack the scalp sheen and creepiness of the Sweet Genius guy, it turns out I'm a bit of a sweet genius myself.  How so, you ask?  Well, I just used most of the apples the Gastros picked to make a pie from scratch for the first time.  Since I nailed it, I'm gonna go ahead and hoist that title belt above my head while you guys enjoy the first installment of "Straight Guy Stuff."  Fabulous Baker Bros, you too can harness the power of the pastry, and if you do it while wearing a backwards hat and sports team apparel, nobody will accuse you of being a dandy.  Buen provecho.

I Am an International Rap Superstar

I'm definitely late to the party on this one, but I just discovered that Eater has spent the past two years interviewing bands in a recurring post called Sound Cheque. Typically–and I'm only judging from the headlines and photos–the bands are like, "Tacos rule but there's not much time to eat on the road and my hair only looks like I don't shower and blah, blah, blah."  Pretty cool stuff, right?  Well, I decided to take the concept in a new direction. Instead of interviewing other people who make music, I made some music of my own, and the music is about food, specifically, falafel. From a box.  Part freestyle, part written, all talent, I present to you, "The Falafel Sessions."  Buen provecho.

R.I.P. Joey Vento

Foobooz reports that Joey Vento, founder of Geno's Steaks in South Philly, died last night of a massive heart attack at 71 years young.  Mr. Vento gained notoriety as a racist back in 2007 by demanding that his customers order in English.  All politics and -isms aside, however, I tip my jar of whiz to Mr. Vento. I hope the pearly gates are neon-clad and wide open for you.  Buen provecho.

Why Did I Eat This?

By now, you've probably seen the latest Burger King commercial advertising their version of the slider, the BK Mini.  If you haven't, it's basically a montage of people stealing other people's food, the food being a miniature hamburger or chicken sandwich.  Burger King's thought process was probably, "These things taste so good that you'll want to steal them."  Philosophically, however, it is proof once again that humans are dicks.  Alas, marketing makes me curious, and a rushed lunch the other day presented the perfect opportunity excuse for me to see whether or not these sliders were theft-worthy.

At $4.99, the value meal includes a 4-pack of the Minis.  I wanted two chicken and two beef, but you can't mix and match, so I opted for beef.  When I got the box, which was about the size of a McDonald's Big Breakfast container, I realized why.  The meat and buns are attached in fours and you need to rip them apart.  You could probably leave the whole thing intact, but then you would just be eating an enormous burger.  Not necessarily a bad thing, but when you're stuffed in the driver's seat of a parked car blasting both the AC and XM's Hair Nation channel, you don't really need the extra attention.

And how did they taste? Definitely not theft-worthy.  Without the extra shit that typically goes on a Whopper (the Minis are just ketchup, pickles, and cheese if you want it) you get the standard BK artificially flavored flame-broiled taste, but not much more.  I also caught a bad batch of fries, making the already crappy BK fries that much worse.  I'll probably go back for the chicken Minis, but in the meantime, I'll get my slider fix at White Castle.  Buen provecho.

Playing Catch-Up: Ramen in Tokyo

Less than 24 hours before the earth underneath Japan decided to burp, fart, and sneeze at the same time, I had the opportunity to slurp down what was easily the best bowl of ramen I have ever had.  Behold, the Shinjuku Ramenologues.  Buen provecho.

Free Wiener Wares! (My First Ever Giveaway)

Long before there were food trucks bedazzled with bottle caps, there was the singular gas-powered mobile mecca that spread the good word of wieners, the Oscar Mayer Wienermobile.  Currently on the road, it will be making a brief stop in Center City (15th and Market) next Wednesday, July 20, where local artist/hot dog hot shot Hawk Krall will be serving up an assortment of franken-franks of his own creation starting at 11:30 A.M.  In conjunction with this, I'm offering my readers the opportunity to win a bag of goodies that includes:

• T-shirts
• Coupons for Oscar Mayer Selects
• Mini Grill
• Apron
• Grilling Accessories
• Wiener Whistle

To select a winner, I'm going to try a little trivia (please answer in the comments).  The first person that can tell me both the names of the super troopers that pulled the Wienermobile over AND the name of the Texas town where it happened wins.  So get commenting already. Your wiener whistle awaits.

Update: With the first and only response (which means nobody's reading this goddamn thing anymore), Brooklyn-before-Brooklyn-was-cool resident Matthew Imberman takes home the grand prize.  Congratulations!

The Second Annual Pathmark Lobster Special Home Cooking Event

I hate fireworks.  I know that may knock me down a few degrees on the bromometer, but sudden loud noises and the potential for being someone with an awkward handshake after a short fuse mishap keeps me as far away from the rocket's red glare as possible.  So, I've begun a new 4th of July tradition, cooking lobsters.  Last year, I tried my hand at grilling them, and although successful, I wasn't too impressed at the way they turned out.  This year, we are also contending with a very curious and very needy two-year old, so we needed to take the shells out of the equation.  Enter the lobster roll.  Boil and shuck the lobsters the night before, and defer the fruits of your labor until lunchtime the next day.  Mine was a simple preparation, a spoonful of mayonnaise for roughly a pound of meat, a squeeze of lemon, and some salt and pepper.  Not being able to find New England style split-top buns (the ones that look like a piece of Wonder bread folded in half), I opted for Martin's potato rolls, which were buttered and griddled to give them some reinforcement.  Served with corn on the cob, the lobster roll beats the shit out of donning a bib and fighting with your food while being judged by a full dining room.  Buen provecho.

Failure Sounds Like the Crunch of a Lightly Fried Tortilla

View more videos at: http://www.thefeast.com/.

Let us all remind ourselves of the definition of insanity: doing the same goddamn thing over and over again and expecting a different result.  Without getting my head checked, my mental illness and yen for defeat was confrimed as I undertook the Drinker's Taco Challenge for a second time, thinking hard shells and chicken would have been much easier to choke down than the previous choice of soft shells filled with beans.  After the inevitable failure, however, I now realize that no matter how you take your tacos, this is a sucker's bet.  Oh well.  At least I'm a handsome sucker.  Buen provecho.

Why Did I Eat This? Shanghai Edition

In Shanghai, the Colonel's face is literally everywhere. Peppered in between wet markets and high end retail stores, the unmistakable smell of fried chicken even cuts through the malodorous fog of the diesel fueling the country's endless growth spurt.  Typically, "Why Did I Eat This?" is a result of marketing, but I had a different reason this time around.  I read that Yum! Brands—the fast food behemoth whose weapons in the war against health also include Taco Bell and Pizza Hut—pushed into emerging markets by catering to local tastes, and I was curious to see how these local tastes were interpreted as fast food.  But I fucked up (typical).  Instead of seeing how the classically good KFC meal of a two-piece, mashed potatoes, and a biscuit stacked up to the American version, I wound up ordering the New Orleans Chicken sandwich, a non-breaded breast filet doused in not-very-hot sauce on a sesame seed bun (who orders non-fried chicken at a fried chicken joint?).  As expected, the sandwich was pretty terrible, although the amount of mayo they put on it kind of made up for things.  The videos give you the whole story (if you turn up the volume), plus an awkward interaction with a deaf Chinese panhandler, who, had he not been deaf, would have panhandled himself a faceful of high fructose corn syrup.  Buen provecho.

Why Did I Eat This?

Where does a one-legged waitress work?  The same place that my fat ass can't resist ordering country-fried steak and eggs for breakfast: IHOP.  Lowlights of this disaster include:

- The grey leather of overcooked and low quality beef.
- The congealed chalkiness of country gravy subjected to an overdesigned air conditioning system.
- The watery and undercooked hash browns that weren't quite browned.
- The general taste of failure

Stick to the pancakes, but not the ones with all the shit on them, because those are crappy too.  Buen provecho.

Elderly Aspirations: Prime Rib Night at the Windrift in Avalon, New Jersey

I've given up on the idea of being famous when I grow up.  Instead, I have refocused my sights on retirement in Avalon, NJ, where Mrs. Gastro and I can enjoy Prime Rib Mondays followed by endless goblet-sized snifters of somewhere-between-well-and-top shelf whiskey on the rocks, all the while listening to the musical stylings of Jim Bannach, the piano man's piano man. Buen provecho.

Pain is Temporary, Indigestion Lasts a Few Days

View more videos at: http://www.thefeast.com.

"Torture motherfucker" - The Wu-Tang Clan

Hoping to hallucinate a la Homer in what is now an ancient Simpsons episode (and one of the last ones before it started to suck), I stopped by Jake's Sandwich Board with The Feast to try their Ghost Pepper Steak, a cheesesteak topped with 20 drops of a sauce whose main component is 1 Million Scoville Pepper Extract.  I managed to get through most of it (I was three bites shy of finishing), but it was a pain unlike anything I've felt before, and it was even worse once it worked its way through me (gross).  If you like to push the spicy food envelope and/or you have something to prove, you should definitely give it a shot, but make sure you watch the video above to see what it will do to you.  Moving forward, I'll probably just stick to their goddamn delicious roast pork sandwich.  I've had all the discomfort I can take for the rest of 2011.  Buen provecho.

The Best $48.33 (Plus $10 tip) I Ever Spent

My life is essentially complete.  I've got Mrs. Gastro, Baby Gastro (plus another on the way. Yikes!), a phone with a touchscreen that allows me to instantly tell people what I'm thinking (because they care), and a full head of hair that has yet to turn grey.  Shit's pretty damn good, but there's an itch that repeatedly needs scratching, one that only gets the claws sporadically because of geography and other excuses that simply translate to lazy.  Call it chasing the dragon, but I have yet to find a proxy for Lobo, our local Tex-Mex in Brooklyn, where Mrs. Gastro and I would suck back margaritas even faster than we'd devour the complimentary chips and salsa.  We've tried all the greatest hits in the area (Distrito, Cantina Feliz, Xochitl, etc.), and while they are truly great, the oxymoron of high-end Mexican leaves the wallet much lighter than it should be after getting messed up on tequila and refried beans, and the whole point of having a local spot is the fact that it's truly local.  Our closest place, Mi Pueblo in Mt. Airy, sucks the big one (sorry, Mi Pueblo).  Avenida's nice on a special occasion, but it's too much cash for daily degustation.  I could fill the void in Chestnut Hill (investors, I have an amazing business plan if you're interested), but in the meantime, I just want a goddamn margarita and a bowl of chips without having to break the bank.  Enter Plaza Azteca, literally hiding in plain sight across from the Plymouth Meeting Mall.  Purists would shy away from it, but for us purists who also have children, this is the kind of place where you get all the kid-friendly benefits of a chain (plenty of space, high chairs, other like-minded idiots who thought having kids would be a great idea, staff that distracts said kids while you drink more than you should on a Tuesday) without too much of a chainy feel.  The food is good, and the service is even better.  Plus, it's cheap as fuck, especially when you go during happy hour.  For $48.33 plus tip, we both enjoyed tableside guacamole, chips and salsa, fish tacos, fajitas, rice, and beans, and I enjoyed a margarita and a giant beer.  Our only problem now (or at least after Baby Gastro #2 shows up) is figuring out who's going to drive home.  Like I said, my life is essentially complete.  Buen provecho.

Why Did I Eat This?

I have wanted to do the Drinker's Pub taco challenge for some time now, but much like going on a diet, at what point do you decide that it's a good idea to do so?  The answer, as expected, is after a few half-priced beers and an unsuccessful quest for a pickleback shot* in Center City.  Thinking that a place like Drinker's would definitely have them, my brother-in-law and I stumbled into their Chestnut Street outpost just as happy hour was ending.  This was supposed to be a brief final stop before catching the regional rail back to Philly's outskirts, but the disappointment of having to do a SoCo and lime shot instead of a pickleback coupled with the giant pitcher of beer that was waiting for me upon my return from the bathroom fueled my competitive spirit stupidity and convinced me that I could eat 33 tacos in 13 minutes.  I love me some tacos, but this was sheer torture, and I'm a little pissed about the fact that I may have been had.  In my drunken stupor, I went with the recommendation to do soft bean tacos in lieu of crunchy chicken tacos.  The latter would have gone down much easier, but the waitress pushed for me to do soft bean, knowing that 13 minutes is barely enough time for a large mammal to take down 33 tacos, let alone my fat ass.  Not surprisingly, amid the cheers and jeers of a packed house and a diminutive Mexican holding up a timer, I barely made it through half of the tacos when the 13th minute ticked by.  Had I been allowed to eat the tacos as I ordered them, I think the story would have had a much happier ending.  Instead, I left Drinker's with my head down, picturing the tacos that remained singing a taunting yet melodic rendition of Busta Rhymes' "Light Ya Ass on Fire."  You won this round, Drinker's Pub, but I shall return.  Buen provecho.

Piss poor video footage of my piss poor decision-making can be seen here (turn up the speakers) and here.

*For the uninitiated, the pickleback (or is it pickelback?) involves a shot of whiskey chased by a shot of pickle juice.  Trust me, it's delicious.

Why Did I Eat This?

With the firm knowledge that every food item produced behind the counter at Dunkin' Donuts comes from a microwave (or a similarly designed cooking box), I should really know better than to get excited about the prospect of a "fried egg" in their Big 'n' Toasty breakfast sandwich.  Unfortunately, curiosity and stupidity are two innate qualities that continue to make me powerless against appetizing pictures of a sandwich most likely prepared in a test kitchen and not in a metal cube, and so here we are discussing the disgusting.

Sandwiched between to giant slices of Texas toast, the "fried egg" was a scrambled egg white with a yellow circle in the middle, presumably the yolk, but probably just some strategically placed food coloring.  The cherrywood smoked bacon was the same shitty bacon they put on all the rest of their sandwiches.  It does the trick, but it gets lost in the size of this sandwich.  The Texas toast dwarfs the rest of the ingredients, and its size makes it so dry that you have to scald your throat gulping coffee so that you don't choke.  This sandwich ruined my Saturday morning, so if you find yourself in the Dunkin' drive-thru on any day of the week, I would stick to coffee and donuts.  Buen provecho.

After 45 Courses, a Winner is Crowned, or, I Had Dinner with Questlove Last Night

Last night, I had the distinguished honor of judging my first cookoff.  While I fully expected my first judges' panel to be for something more along the lines of a Rotary Club Chili Cookoff, this one was certainly more A-list, and I found myself seated among Philly food folks Drew Lazor and Audrey Claire Taichman, as well as Sasha Grey and the host, Ahmir "?uestlove" Thompson.  Inwardly, I thought to myself, "How the fuck did I wind up here?"  Outwardly, I donned my Hill-side tie and (hopefully) held my own with my winning smile and freshly trimmed beard.

The event was intimate, probably no more than 50 people, creating an excellent opportunity to network and/or make jackass comments to Mr. Thompson like, "With a name like Jazzy Jeff, he should probably be on time." (Turns out Jazzy had babysitter issues)  Being on the panel, I got to taste and judge five courses from nine different chefs, including Scott Schroeder from SPTR and Kenny Bush from Bistrot la Minette (Kenny came in first, winning the opportunity to cook backstage at The Roots Picnic).  I haven't eaten that much since the Pastrami Challenge, and while certainly fun, such caloric excess is challenging to say the least.

As an added bonus, I got to meet Top Cheftestant and 10 Arts Chef de Cuisine Jen Carroll, who will be cooking with steely blue-eyed Eric Ripert later this month.  Hopefully this won't be my last judges' panel, but if it is, I can at least check both "Meet ?uestlove" and "Eat fried PB&J" off the bucket list.  Buen provecho.

Meanwhile, Over on The Feast

Not that there's any excuse for my lack of posting, but you can check out what I've been doing in my spare time over at The Feast, NBC's new website dedicated to helping you find the best places to eat (that's me), shop, and play.  Buen provecho.

My Friends Are Cooler Than Your Friends: Paul Bergman of The Freshary

CNNGo totally scooped me on this, but it's still my duty to spread the gospel of Paul Bergman of The Freshary in Shanghai.  I met Paul a little over 10 years ago in college.  Typically, he would either be running to class or in the library, not preparing to take over the world, but to save it.  Starting with food, I think he's on the right track.  The Freshary sells certified organic baked goods and ice cream, and is the first to do so in China.  Their first store is also the only LEED Gold certified retail and food production space in China.

I sampled a vegan chocolate muffin and some soy vanilla ice cream (after Paul donned a lab coat and fixed the machine). If I could live on these two things alone, being vegan wouldn't be a challenge in the least.  The muffin, literally made from scratch (the flour is ground daily from seeds and wheat in house), had none of the shortcomings that typical vegan baked goods possess.  And not being an ice cream person, their soy ice cream is actually something I could scream for (yes I'm ending a sentence with a preposition. Deal with it).  Slightly savory, the vanilla soft serve is more comfort food than dessert (a very good thing), but it's not heavy at all. The Freshary also offers a black sesame-flavored ice cream, something that Paul spent 14 months perfecting.  Clearly, Paul is as passionate about perfection as he is about people, which can be difficult in the Chinese market.
Even with the steep learning curve, Paul has continued to pursue his vision, and will soon be opening a second store.  It's my hope that once they get the China operations off and running that they'll expand to the U.S. and move back, because he's one of the nicest and coolest people you'll ever meet, and sorely missed here in the states.  Buen provecho.

If you find yoursefl in Shanghai, The Freshary is located in the SML Center at 618 Xujiahui Road, B2 Level, T-13. You can get there by Subway Line 9, Dapuqiao Road Stop, Exit 3.

Excuse Me While I Kiss the Ground

View more videos at: http://www.nbcphiladelphia.com.

Here's a recount of my experience in Tokyo last week.  Stay tuned for the food portion of the trip, and please keep everyone still over there in your thoughts and prayers.  Buen provecho.

My Friends Are Cooler Than Your Friends: The Brothers Corsillo

The Hill-Side S/S '11 Preview from The Hill-Side on Vimeo.

As a self-styled wiener, I proudly admit to wearing L.L. Bean wrinkle-free shirts and Dockers on a near-daily basis, but when the time comes to get dressed up, I have Emil and Sandy Corsillo to thank for making me look like the folks in the video above (although typically 100-125 lbs. heavier depending on the season). My former roommates continue to evolve their Hill-Side brand, a brilliant line of neckwear that elevates your stock way above wiener levels.  Their latest collection features floral elements, a reminder that Spring will be springing soon, so all you Jack Torrance types, lose the axe in favor of the computer, and log on to Hickoree's Hard Goods to pick up some new neckwear. Your family will thank you.

My Chefs Are Cooler Than Your Chefs: Philly's Four Contenders and Two Write-Ins for People's Best New Chef Award

Yesterday on The Feast, I put up a list of places to check out in order to make an informed vote in Food & Wine/Eatocracy "People's Best New Chef" award.  Four of the handsome heads above were nominated, and the The Feast Philly editors and I decided to write in a couple more candidates, Marcie Turney of Barbuzzo and Matt Levin of Adsum, two more of our hometown heroes whose names have recently been tattooed into your dome piece by the press.  Buen provecho.
Give these peeps some props by voting your face off here.