A recent article posted in the Atlantic's food section gives a nod to Mormon cuisine, an ironically sacreligious mess of processed and highly caloric foods laid atop a jiggly foundation of Jell-O (I suppose procreating at a methamphetamine-addicted rabbit's pace leaves little time for food). Growing up there as a triple minority (poor, Messican, and Catholic), I was not privy to many of the staples mentioned in the article (although I do reserve a special place in my heart for Cool Whip). Had I been, I'd probably be a lot fatter than I am now. Instead, every year just before school began, I was shuffled into the backseat of a car at 4am for a no-stops-allowed-just-pee-in-this-cup drive to New Mexico to pick up enough beans and green chile to last us the whole year. Bland was not an option in the Gastro household, and neither was anything from a can.*
Years later, there's very little I miss about Salt Lake save for my folks (and their delicious Navajo tacos), and it was their own green chile addiction that has resulted in them now being forced to stuff their suitcases with it every time they visit (not that my father really needs much room for the only things he packs, a ratty Penn sweatshirt and a threadbare t-shirt he's worn since I was 10). Only now--when I'm even further away from the land of enchantment--do I appreciate my folks' effort of a 13-hour drive and a marathon week of roasting burlap sackfuls of green chile. I suppose being an outsider did have its perks.
On its own, roasted green chile adds a unique flavor and texture that opens your sinuses without making your eyes water. In a stew prepared with chunks of pork, tomatoes, garlic, and onions, it will warm your soul's soul. Recently, I had the chance to spread the gospel of green chile to Marc Sanders of Burgatory. We topped his signature burger and homebaked buns with the stuff, and the results were both mindblowing and tongue-numbing. Paired with a helping of sweet potato home fries and a few pale ales, it made for a great Sunday afternoon. If you're ever in New Mexico, make sure to order green chile on everything, and not just because you can. If you're out here on the east coast, drop me a line, and I might be willing to share some of my stash with you. Buen provecho.
*Full Disclosure: After my folks opened a restaurant, there was little time for home cooking, so there was a time when I did eat a lot of fast food/processed food/canned food, the same crap I continue to eat to this day. They still managed to make the trip each year, but I figured it should be known that home cooking was not exactly the norm during my teen years.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Friday, March 19, 2010
TGIFAHTTTIICC
Or, Thank Gaga It's Friday And Honest Tom's Taco Truck Is In Center City. If you think that's a mouthful, wait 'til you get a load of the tacos themselves. Typically reserved for Dragons, Quakers, and the staff that cater to those punk kids in West Philadelphia, Honest Tom's is using the spring break hiatus to bring the truth to Center City. Foobooz says that the truck says (not the actual truck, because talking trucks only exist in the land of make believe) there's a possibility of coming to Center City every Friday and that location suggestions are welcome. I would be perfectly happy if they stayed put at 18th and Vine, where they are right now, serving up delicately cooked fish tacos topped with a pineapple salsa. And if you need something to wash them down, they've got cold brewed Stumptown iced coffee by the jugful. An infinitely better choice than the shrimp taco disaster of last week. Buen provecho.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Why Did I Eat This?
The Butterfly Effect was a really stupid movie. On the contrary, the concept of one event being able to change the outcome of your situation is fascinating. Case in point, the haircut lady I normally go to quit/was fired from the place in Suburban Station, so instead of switching up my look from a fat Justin Bieber to something a little more grown up/professional, the time spent doing so was immediately reallocated to tracking down Taco Bell's latest offering, the Pacific Shrimp taco. Suspending all better judgment in the name of "Why Did I Eat This?", here's a rundown of what surprisingly didn't suck as much as I thought it would (but still sucked pretty bad):
1. The shrimp, which I imagine (hope) comes pre-cooked, were not texturally offputting, and they had a decent kick to them.
2. The sauce, a thinned out mayonnaise with flecks of dehydrated herbs, was bland, and most of it leaked out after a few bites.
3. Three bucks for one taco makes me feel better about the quality of the shrimp, but it also makes me feel stupid for spending three bucks on a single item at Taco Bell.
4. The rest of the composition was standard issue yellowish brown lettuce, mealy tomatoes, and a damaged tortilla to hold it all together.
5. I didn't eat the thing too long ago, so the possibility of getting really sick from eating shellfish at Taco Bell is still very real and very frightening.
As the impending doom digests, I leave you with this: if you must partake in the unholy union that is seafood and fast food, do yourself a favor and stick with a Filet-o-Fish. Buen provecho.
1. The shrimp, which I imagine (hope) comes pre-cooked, were not texturally offputting, and they had a decent kick to them.
2. The sauce, a thinned out mayonnaise with flecks of dehydrated herbs, was bland, and most of it leaked out after a few bites.
3. Three bucks for one taco makes me feel better about the quality of the shrimp, but it also makes me feel stupid for spending three bucks on a single item at Taco Bell.
4. The rest of the composition was standard issue yellowish brown lettuce, mealy tomatoes, and a damaged tortilla to hold it all together.
5. I didn't eat the thing too long ago, so the possibility of getting really sick from eating shellfish at Taco Bell is still very real and very frightening.
As the impending doom digests, I leave you with this: if you must partake in the unholy union that is seafood and fast food, do yourself a favor and stick with a Filet-o-Fish. Buen provecho.
Tuesday, March 09, 2010
My Friends are Cooler Than Your Friends: Gene Finley
There is no better way to capture the essence of the Claire Finley Memorial Beef and Beer than interviewing the man behind the magic, especially when the interview is shot with an iPhone and the audio sucks because neither of us are wearing a mic and the background noise is fueled by endless pitchers of beer. The camerawork leaves even more to be desired (sorry, Matt, you won't be winning an Oscar for cinematography anytime soon). Regardless, mistakenly attending this event four years ago has allowed me to watch it grow like a weed, and in case you can't hear the interview that well, Gene's been able to raise some serious cash for scholarships awarded in his sister's honor. If there were more people like this in the world, I would sleep better at night. Gene, congrats on another successful year*. Buen provecho.
*Success limited to the fundraising of the event only. After three years of winning baskets, Team Gastro was shut out this year. The box of Baby Ruth bars was a nice consolation prize, however.
Wednesday, March 03, 2010
Picking Up My Slack
Consistency is not my strong suit. Furthermore, depriving myself of modified corn products for the past two weeks--the -ases and the -oses--has given me meat and dairy tunnel vision. Luckily, the good folks over at Hamburger Calculus have remained in the processed food game, and they have located (and eaten) another one of Herr's snack food science experiments. Behold, Grilled Cheese Flavored Cheese Curls, housed in another bag unlikely to win any design competitions. Buen provecho.
Picture used without permission. I hope they don't mind.
Picture used without permission. I hope they don't mind.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Field Trip: Yakitori Totto
Mrs. Gastro and I are in week two of our throwback diet (no carbohydrates). At this point, hunger has turned into hanger, and we would give pretty much anything for a pancake or two. There have been some bright spots (most of them involving steak in a cream sauce), but overall, this diet is for freaks, which I suppose makes us freaks. Getting to the point of all this, a quick trip to New York City could have unraveled the whole thing, but a dear friend of mine came up with the perfect solution: yakitori. It's how the Japanese do churrascaria, a much more delicate and intimate experience that I'm assuming can be attributed to the fact that samurai swords are just way too sharp to be carrying meats around a crowded dining room. Instead, your meats and organs show up on wood skewers, all of which are ordered a la carte.
There are too many skewers to mention, but rest assured, we ate everything there is to eat that a chicken has to offer, plus a few vegetables to health it up. The experience was great, but if you're not careful, your appetite for charcoal-kissed chunks of chicken can really add up. No matter, it was great to catch up with my NYC crew, even if I left the joint reeking of a Japanese backyard BBQ (I have no idea what that means). If you find yourself in Midtown Manhattan during a throwback diet, I highly recommend waiting for a table here. Buen provecho.
We scored our skewers from Yakitori Totto, located on the second floor of 251 West 55th Street. We had what felt like unlimited skewers, shochu, sake, and sapporo for $90 including tip. Like I said, it can really add up if you don't watch it, but watching it is really no fun, so expect to spend some money here. Also, expect to wait if you have a party larger than two. The place is really small.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Julie & Julia & Julio
Last year's Valentine's Day experience, while not a complete disappointment, was still enough to convince us that cooking at home is the better option on amateur night, so when I saw a hunk of shrinkwrapped chuck roast at Pathmark, I figured I would try my hand at boeuf bourguignon. If a six-foot tall lady played by Meryl Streep can do it side-by-side with a food blogger-cum-writer from Queens played by Amy Adams in a really crappy movie, then why couldn't I? Shit, I could blog about it, too, and change my name to Julio (pronounced "JOO-lee-oh" like this Puerto Rican dude I used to know who really should have stuck with "HOO-lee-oh"), and we can all have a laugh at the parody of it all.
And that's exactly what happened, except I didn't execute very well. The sauce was flavorful, but the meat was leathery, even after a long and leisurely wine jacuzzi. The snap judgment--something I'm really good at--is that I suck at braising. If there's anyone out there that can drop some knowledge about how cooking liquid is supposed to look when you're simmering, please do so. In the meantime, here's some insight based on hindsight:
1. Make this the day before so you have an easier time skimming the fat. I skipped this step. I don't think it helped matters.
2. Clear your schedule. This recipe's a time burglar.
3. Attempting to talk in Julia Child's voice while making this dish does not improve the final product.
4. Watching the movie Julie & Julia doesn't make you a good cook. It just makes you wish you had those hours of your life back.
Best of luck if you decide to give it a shot. I know I didn't sell it well, but in the end, I had a lot of fun screwing up this recipe. Plus, it was wonderfully comfortable given the shitty weather. We served it with slow roasted potatoes dusted with a spice bag I brought home from Morocco, and finally opened up the bottle of Pride 2005 Cabernet Franc that we got on our honeymoon. Mrs. Gastro has taken to baking cakes, and she made my favorite, yellow with chocolate frosting. It was a perfect ending to a not-so-perfect meal. Happy belated Valentine's day. Buen provecho.
And that's exactly what happened, except I didn't execute very well. The sauce was flavorful, but the meat was leathery, even after a long and leisurely wine jacuzzi. The snap judgment--something I'm really good at--is that I suck at braising. If there's anyone out there that can drop some knowledge about how cooking liquid is supposed to look when you're simmering, please do so. In the meantime, here's some insight based on hindsight:
1. Make this the day before so you have an easier time skimming the fat. I skipped this step. I don't think it helped matters.
2. Clear your schedule. This recipe's a time burglar.
3. Attempting to talk in Julia Child's voice while making this dish does not improve the final product.
4. Watching the movie Julie & Julia doesn't make you a good cook. It just makes you wish you had those hours of your life back.
Best of luck if you decide to give it a shot. I know I didn't sell it well, but in the end, I had a lot of fun screwing up this recipe. Plus, it was wonderfully comfortable given the shitty weather. We served it with slow roasted potatoes dusted with a spice bag I brought home from Morocco, and finally opened up the bottle of Pride 2005 Cabernet Franc that we got on our honeymoon. Mrs. Gastro has taken to baking cakes, and she made my favorite, yellow with chocolate frosting. It was a perfect ending to a not-so-perfect meal. Happy belated Valentine's day. Buen provecho.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Field Notes: Chicago Hot Dogs
A dear friend of mine just relocated to Chicago. Something about math and markets during the day and impersonating Grant Achatz in the evenings. He's somewhat reserved, unless there's a skateboard underneath his feet or a microphone being forced into the crowd. Anyhoo, I'm really hoping that he'll be my Chicago food proxy, especially after receiving this a few days ago:
"I must have sounded like an idiot ordering, I asked so many questions. Like someone who goes to Pat's and asks how the onions are prepared. People put on a lot of toppings. I asked for sauerkraut, and the big homegirl said, 'This ain't New York.' Then I asked if the hot dogs are pork or beef. 'This is beef, honey. The pork's between my legs.'"
Thanks, D-tron. Buen provecho.
"I must have sounded like an idiot ordering, I asked so many questions. Like someone who goes to Pat's and asks how the onions are prepared. People put on a lot of toppings. I asked for sauerkraut, and the big homegirl said, 'This ain't New York.' Then I asked if the hot dogs are pork or beef. 'This is beef, honey. The pork's between my legs.'"
Thanks, D-tron. Buen provecho.
Wednesday, February 03, 2010
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?
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Pick One: Are You Pho Real?; Pho-nally; or, It's About Pho-ckin' Time
In the fall of 2009, I predicted pho would be the next big thing in comfort food. At that point, I had yet to try it, but its cult following by eaters coast-to-coast indicated that it was at a tipping point. Even with ramen hot on its heels, I'm confident that pho will enjoy its time in the spotlight in 2010, and I'm happy to say that before this happens and I switch my beverage du jour from pho broth to hater-ade on principle--thereby cutting off my nose to spite my face--I was able to slurp back an Atlantis of noodles resting at the bottom of an oversized bowl of meaty, gingery broth. I imagine that most of you reading this (if anyone is actually reading this) have enjoyed the experience, but for those who haven't, I recommend the following: order the special, don't question the meat involved, give it a healthy squeeze of sriracha and lime, and see how long you can make your good manners last before ultimately burying your face in the bowl and ruining your freshly laundered J.Crew button-down. Buen provecho.
I lost my pho-ginity at Pho Cali, which is located on 10th and Arch in Philadelphia's Chinatown. In addition to a host of mix-and-match pho offerings, they also slang banh mi sandwiches and other Vietnamese fare (stuff I've never had, but would love to try). I got a so-so summer roll and the bowl of bliss pictured above for $10 including tip.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Stuck Between Maroc and a Hard Place
When you're young and stupid, business travel sounds like a great idea. Air travel, free food, maybe a neat name tag if you're at a team building or sales convention. The reality of business travel is that since you're wherever you are to work, all the touristy stuff you had planned to do takes a seat right next to you in the back of the van that's carting you around. It's still pretty cool that you're considered worth the airfare, lodging, and the name tag, however, and if you can manage some downtime, you may wind up eating something that will never show up on the menu at Applebee's (although I just got an email from Uno Pizza about a Moroccan soup). You might also get kidnapped. This past week's sojourn to Morocco was a blitzkreig of interviews, harrowing cab rides, and language barriers. When we finally hit the pause button to eat, we found a wealth of porkless options that showcased the amalgamation of French and Middle Eastern cuisine typical to the region, a place where a lemon sauce is so sour as to be bitter, veal is actually short ribs, and every meal comes with French fries (a good thing). More pictures after the jump.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Why Did I Eat This?
This is the carcass of a muffin that cost me $2.43. I can get a bacon, egg, and cheese from the toothless guy outside for less money. The worst part? It tasted like Arm & Hammer and smelled like the cheap lotion they sell in the shrinkwrapped wicker gift baskets at the dollar store that the fat ass dude from Teen Mom would probably buy for his whale of a girlfriend to say sorry for being such a lame and sweaty excuse for a human being. I suppose that at the end of the day, it could always be worse. I could be that dude. Buen provecho.
Tuesday, January 05, 2010
I Am Your Drunk Uncle: Egg Nog
(Apologies for the lack of timeliness on this one)
"Hey, it's the guy that makes the egg nog!"
If this is what you aspire to, continue reading. If it's not, enjoy your much less flavorful and definitely less rock 'n' roll carton of the storebought stuff. For the adventurous and attention-starved, you would be surprised how simple it is to prepare egg nog from a dozen eggs, some heavy cream, milk, sugar, and nutmeg, resulting in applause from all who imbibe. If you can execute, it's a foolproof way to flex some culinary muscle. I've been making Cyril Collins' recipe for a couple years now, and according to my monther-in-law, it's the best she's ever had:
Start by separating the eggs. Whisk the yolks with sugar, beat the whites until stiff (and get your minds out of the gutter), combine with the milk, heavy cream, and the booze of your choosing (I opted for a cup each of Sailor Jerry and Jim Beam), dust with nutmeg, and do your best not to puke all over your gay apparel (man, this would have been so much funnier around Christmastime). Then forget to write about it until after the New Year. Then forget that you already (sort of) wrote about it a year ago. Then wish your reader(s) a merry belated Christmas. Buen provecho.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Guided Missile versus Kamikaze
Rather than jumping head first into the funeral pyres of processed food like I tend to do, Hamburger Calculus uses a more, er, calculated approach. Integrate yourselves into their blog this week as they drop some science on Japanese snack foods and where to get them (I stole the photo above from this post). Buen provecho.
The Worst Shit I Ate All Year
This year marked the introduction of "Why Did I Eat This?" on Fidel Gastro, a low-brow culinary oddyssey of bridging the gap between the food you see in the commercial and what it really looks like when the wrapper comes off, or sometimes just letting hunger get the best of me with no marketing involved. Behold, another not-very-well-thought-out list of the terrible excuses for food in 2009.
10. Taco Bell's Blackjack Taco: As the unofficial spokesfood for the Phillies' 2nd World Series bid, the photoshopped images were pure comedy, but the actual taste of this thing was more miserable than the entire white sneakered population of gents mourning a loss to goddamned Yankees.
9. Big Ben Burger at Union Jack's: Amazing wings, terrible burger. I guess you can't be good at everything (Michael Phelps is a great swimmer, but he sucks at not getting busted for smoking pot).
8. Flavia Coffee from my office pantry: Is it that difficult to make single serving coffee not taste like burnt water? And is a carton of half-and-half really that much more than a squirt bottle of non-dairy creamer?
7. Wawa cheesesteak: Duh.
6. Baja Fresh burritos: We really tried to like these. Even if you give them odds against the likes of Chipotle and Qdoba, they still can't get past "sucks only a little" status, which makes them a waste of money.
5. Dunkin' Donuts Waffle Breakfast Sandwich: A poor excuse for a McGriddle with waffle marks.
4. Pizza Hut Tuscani Pasta: You're better off making a box of Kraft macaroni & cheese. Hell, you're better off just opening the packet of cheese powder and dumping it into a glass of water.
3. Herr's Kansas City Prime Steak Flavor Potato Chips: I will forever feel stupid for falling victim to these.
2. Buffalo chicken cheesesteak from Cosimo's Pizza: Last time I checked, hot sauce wasn't supposed to taste sweet.
1. Wendy's Asian Chicken Bites: A high fructose corn syrup-based sauce sloppily glopped over boneless breaded chicken that was obviously fried in grease weeks overdue for a change almost ruined fried chicken for me.
There were two things I couldn't manage to get to that would both be shoo-ins for this list, but you'll just have to wait and see what 2010 brings (aside from another 15-20 lbs on my frame). Here's to another great year of regrettable eating. Buen provecho.
10. Taco Bell's Blackjack Taco: As the unofficial spokesfood for the Phillies' 2nd World Series bid, the photoshopped images were pure comedy, but the actual taste of this thing was more miserable than the entire white sneakered population of gents mourning a loss to goddamned Yankees.
9. Big Ben Burger at Union Jack's: Amazing wings, terrible burger. I guess you can't be good at everything (Michael Phelps is a great swimmer, but he sucks at not getting busted for smoking pot).
8. Flavia Coffee from my office pantry: Is it that difficult to make single serving coffee not taste like burnt water? And is a carton of half-and-half really that much more than a squirt bottle of non-dairy creamer?
7. Wawa cheesesteak: Duh.
6. Baja Fresh burritos: We really tried to like these. Even if you give them odds against the likes of Chipotle and Qdoba, they still can't get past "sucks only a little" status, which makes them a waste of money.
5. Dunkin' Donuts Waffle Breakfast Sandwich: A poor excuse for a McGriddle with waffle marks.
4. Pizza Hut Tuscani Pasta: You're better off making a box of Kraft macaroni & cheese. Hell, you're better off just opening the packet of cheese powder and dumping it into a glass of water.
3. Herr's Kansas City Prime Steak Flavor Potato Chips: I will forever feel stupid for falling victim to these.
2. Buffalo chicken cheesesteak from Cosimo's Pizza: Last time I checked, hot sauce wasn't supposed to taste sweet.
1. Wendy's Asian Chicken Bites: A high fructose corn syrup-based sauce sloppily glopped over boneless breaded chicken that was obviously fried in grease weeks overdue for a change almost ruined fried chicken for me.
There were two things I couldn't manage to get to that would both be shoo-ins for this list, but you'll just have to wait and see what 2010 brings (aside from another 15-20 lbs on my frame). Here's to another great year of regrettable eating. Buen provecho.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
The Best Shit I Ate All Year
Disclaimer: I'm rushing this out, so if it sucks, I apologize.
It's been a big year for the Gastro family. Following a move to Philadelphia (yes, Chestnut Hill is STILL Philadelphia), we managed to cram in a house purchase, a baby, and the beginning of business school. Through it all, I've been fortunate enough to have the time and inspiration to eat, write, and inflate the spare tire that is my ever expanding midsection. Without giving it much thought at all (assuming that there are few of you out there who give a rat's posterior), here are the best things I've shoveled into my face in 2009 (a worst list will follow shortly).
10. Nachos at Solaris Grill: The homemade chips and mountain of toppings are a bright spot in an otherwise dim menu at this Chestnut Hill jack of all trades.
9. Wings at Union Jacks: Full of townies (my favorite kind of place), the crispy/spicy/meaty balance of these wings more than makes up for the shitty service.
8. Chicken cutlet sandwich at Shank's: I can only infer from the photos and write-ups eating the wall space in the new Shank's that the old timey location was magical, but for me, having it within walking distance of my office is all the magic I need. If you don't like broccoli rabe, you will after eating this sandwich.
7. Butcher & Singer burger special: For $5.95, it's worth the derision of a thousand vintage upselling waiters, not just the one that you get stuck with.
6. Veggie burger at Campbell's Place: It's a samosa on a bun, and the bun is one of best you'll ever eat.
5. Short rib huarache at Distrito: Garces' year kicks the shit out of my year. I'm just happy that I was around to see it all go down. Even if the Phillies shit the bed, we've always got Garces. The gooey cheese was the highlight of this pizza-esque dish, one option of many on the list of small plates (I also recommend the pork tacos).
4. Roast pork w/sharp provolone at DiNic's: There are few lines worth standing in. This is one of them.
3. Short rib and cheddar fries at Village Whiskey: What can I say? The man knows his way around short ribs. Served in a cast iron skillet and lightly scented with cinnamon, these will warm your soul, even on the coldest of days.
2. Strike Zone and D.P. Dunkers at D.P. Dough: Surprisingly, I preferred this vegetarian zone to any of the meat options I had. I just supplemented it with a box of boneless and breaded bites of chicken. Make sure you get a side of bangin' sauce. You won't be disappointed.
1. Fat boy monster at PYT: The burger that I paid for (this one) was better than the burger I got for free. Go figure. This burger makes you want to be morbidly obese just so you can have a second or third without making yourself sick.
Stay tuned for the worst. Because I ate so many awful things, I'll need to think on that one a bit. Buen provecho.
Friday, December 18, 2009
Why Did I Eat This?
In nature, warning signs abound for things you're not supposed to eat. The cactus has thorns, the lobster has claws (but mad props to the guy who figured out a way to get at its delicious meat), and poo smells like, well, poo. Under the fluorescent lights of a bustling Wawa, the signs are there, but you need to look a little closer.
After two artificially flavored successes, Herr's suffers a face mangling fall from grace with their Kansas City Prime Steak Flavor potato chips. If the shittily designed packaging was any indicator of what lurked inside, I should have heeded its warning. The off-putting "Western" font whose name I can't place (because I'm not well-versed in fonts), the brown-checked background, and a floating steak that looks like it came from an old Sizzler advertisement. Clearly Herr's is paying the flavor fellas more than the graphics guys. I could have opened a packet of Lipton Onion Soup Mix and gotten the same result, an overly salty and artificial crunch that could only be delicious if I were exiled to the eternal blackness of a space station behind the moon, and there was nothing left to eat after the other dude lost the coin toss. Space station or no, there's a better use for a dollar. Buen provecho.
After two artificially flavored successes, Herr's suffers a face mangling fall from grace with their Kansas City Prime Steak Flavor potato chips. If the shittily designed packaging was any indicator of what lurked inside, I should have heeded its warning. The off-putting "Western" font whose name I can't place (because I'm not well-versed in fonts), the brown-checked background, and a floating steak that looks like it came from an old Sizzler advertisement. Clearly Herr's is paying the flavor fellas more than the graphics guys. I could have opened a packet of Lipton Onion Soup Mix and gotten the same result, an overly salty and artificial crunch that could only be delicious if I were exiled to the eternal blackness of a space station behind the moon, and there was nothing left to eat after the other dude lost the coin toss. Space station or no, there's a better use for a dollar. Buen provecho.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
'Twas the Hour Before Lunchtime (An Ode to Chipotle)
An old buddy of mine just composed this Christmas miracle. Some time ago, we spent a month's worth of business days eating Chipotle burritos (thanks, Hank) :
" 'Twas the hour before lunchtime
And all through the city
Chipotles were starting
To steam rice...not too sticky
The foil was all stacked
By tortillas with care
With the knowing that customers
Would soon be there...
" 'Twas the hour before lunchtime
And all through the city
Chipotles were starting
To steam rice...not too sticky
The foil was all stacked
By tortillas with care
With the knowing that customers
Would soon be there...
Friday, December 11, 2009
Why Did I Eat This?
It's called "The Gobbler." Translation? You need to eat this pile of mush lightning fast. Otherwise, call up the IT boys and order a keyboard replacement, because that's where most of the cranberry sauce, stuffing, and gravy will wind up. There are few better ways to ingest 1,000% of your daily intake of sodium than this mess of a holiday hoagie, especially for $2.99. Buen provecho.
Available at Wawa for a limited time. You can also forgo the hoagie roll and get the same pile of shit in a plastic bowl.
Available at Wawa for a limited time. You can also forgo the hoagie roll and get the same pile of shit in a plastic bowl.
Tuesday, December 08, 2009
Why Did I Drink This?
I call this the El Camino. Equal parts Mountain Dew and Jose Cuervo poured into a stemless wine glass. Let's put it to a vote. I am either:
a. Extreme!!!
b. Innovative in the face of adversity, the adversity being that there is no beer, wine, or whiskey in the house
c. A pathetic drunk
If you're curious (which you shouldn't be), it tastes like a sickly sweet hangover reminiscent of the days when you would pour whatever you suspected mom and dad would not miss into a plastic tumbler and hope for the best. Adults, don't try this at home. Kids, I'm pretty sure you're already trying it, so I won't tell you to do otherwise, but I don't condone it. Buen provecho.
a. Extreme!!!
b. Innovative in the face of adversity, the adversity being that there is no beer, wine, or whiskey in the house
c. A pathetic drunk
If you're curious (which you shouldn't be), it tastes like a sickly sweet hangover reminiscent of the days when you would pour whatever you suspected mom and dad would not miss into a plastic tumbler and hope for the best. Adults, don't try this at home. Kids, I'm pretty sure you're already trying it, so I won't tell you to do otherwise, but I don't condone it. Buen provecho.
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