Ladies and gentlemen, meet the macaroni and cheese martini. Unlike other strange martinis we’ve seen in the past (I’m looking at you, pho cocktail), this drink doesn’t aim to replicate the flavors of mac and cheese with various liquors and spices; it’s actually just a martini glass full of smoked cheddar macaroni and cheese that is served with a shot glass of vodka to drizzle over the top. I think it sounds delicious (like, I’m not even that big of a drinker, but I would binge drink mac and cheese if given the chance). Would you like to try it for yourself? Buy a ticket to San Diego and make a reservation at Donovan’s Steak & Chop House, where this crazy concoction is currently being served. Cheers! [Boing Boing]
The Snackopalypse is upon us, and it is going to coated with bright orange Cheeto dust. The firm behind the crunchy, cheesy snack, with its perfect mouth-feel, has developed a new varietal: Pepsi-flavored Cheetos. Now, you’re probably thinking, But Pepsi is the thing I drink when I’m at a weird diner that doesn’t serve Coke. And you’d be right. But it is also the beverage that was smart enough to partner with Cheetos on their new soda-flavored snack. Keep reading »
Damn you! You made me love you. I’ve been consciously resisting you since the late ’90s, when your chains starting popping up everywhere, putting my favorite high school coffee shop — Seattle Espresso — out of business. At first, I hated you on principle. I was young and idealistic and my favorite movie was “Reality Bites.” Then I got older and just hated you because your coffee sucks. Sorry, Jessica. Don’t get mad. I was a barista on and off in my late teens and early twenties. I know what a shot of fresh-ground, well-pressed espresso should taste like. I’m just gonna say it, Starbucks: your espresso tastes like burnt poop. (Full disclosure: I admit to, in times of extreme caffeine deprivation or desperation, drinking Starbucks. But this is only in extreme cases or when my dad takes me there because he loves your coffee.)
My half-hearted Starbucks boycott ended this weekend when I was starving and popped into one of your stores for a snack. I was thinking I would get a Kind bar to hold me over until I found something acceptable to eat and there they were staring up at me, looking all sexy, begging to be tasted. Your salad bowls. Hearty veggie and brown rice, zesty chicken and black bean and chicken and greens caesar salad bowl. Keep reading »
There’s a “knife-wielding” food thief on the loose in an Australian office. The most recently casualty was a tub of tzatziki meant to adorn one unlucky employee’s Turkish lunch. The victim found the most witty and pass-aggro way to deal with the loss by writing an obituary for the deceased item and posting it on the fridge. “Our office has been quite settled for the past few years without any issues, but recently fridge items have started to go missing. I’ve lost my own odd pieces of lunch to our unknown thief, so I sympathize completely,” reported an anonymous employee. Consider the food thief sufficiently shamed and the glorious dip properly mourned. [Laughing Squid]
Remember when I answered all of Ami’s cooking questions and promised to put together a list of basic cooking tools and ingredients for beginning chefs the following week? Whoops, that was almost two months ago!
Some posts take me a while to write because I’m procrastinating or have some mental block about the topic. Some posts, like this one, take me a while to write because I’m having way too much fun brainstorming for them and I don’t want to put them down in writing just yet. Keep reading »
1. Feeding Frenzy, Part 1:
You’ve gotten a reservation at your city’s hottest, hardest to get into restaurant with a young, hipster chef who braises short ribs in Coca Cola and serves thrice cooked bacon over rice patties that look like scallops. The menu is so revered and so complex that you literally make a spreadsheet of what you plan to order. You consult others who have eaten there to find out what’s recommended. The day of the dinner, you send your fellow diners an email filled with GIFs which express your excitement about eating at this nearly-impossible-to-get-into restaurant where the folklore says that there is a Skid Row poster from the ’80s hanging in the lobby and a bathroom that pays tribute to “Twin Peaks,” which is your favorite show of all time. You will visit that bathroom later and wish that you had visited it before dinner, so you could have focused more on the decor and less on the urgency with which you needed to use the toilet.
When you finally sit down it’s nearly 10 p.m., but you just feel lucky to be sitting. Next to you, a party of six young men are inebriated and sweating profusely. They seem too good looking to have snot running down their faces in the manner they do. You ask them how it was. The guy closest to you blows his nose before answering. You notice there are tears coming out of the corner of his eyes. “I’m in a state of profound bliss,” he tells you, wiping another round of sweat off his face. “You must order the chicken wings, but prepare to sweat.”
You’re ready for the challenge. You can handle this. You revise your spreadsheet slightly to include the chicken wings. You consider crossing off the fried soft-shell crab with buttermilk ranch dressing dipping sauce, but you (wisely or unwisely?) decide you have room for both. Your table orders and you just wait for the ride to begin. Keep reading »