Category Archives: Eats

Choward’s Violet Delights

 

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For those who want to dip their toes in the Tide Pod culinary waters, Choward’s Violet Mints are for you.

Most people agree that they have a strange soap flavor. It’s hard to believe that everyone isn’t clamoring for more violet-flavored candies in their diets. If ice cream were violet-flavored, most children would stop begging for it as the ice cream truck drives by. And probably hurl themselves under the nearest bed, just to be sure.

I ordered mine from Amazon, 3 packs of alien candies.

Strangely, I couldn’t resist sniffing the package, much like a German Shepherd trained to detect drugs at an airport.

I’m confident that most people would be repulsed by these, just like they might be if they bite into a boiled egg only to find that it has been filled with grape jelly and iguana blood.

These candies were once popular.

I speculate that they might be part of the reason that people once died so young.

I’m glad I tried them, though. I keep impulsively eating them, much like the compulsion to pick at a scab as it hardens.

I can’t decide if I actually like them, or if they somehow fulfill an unstated desire to punish myself for some unidentified crime.

I’m going to eat all 3 packs of mine, though. My breath will smell better than a fresh load of laundry, too.

Skinny Pasta Experience

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I received an email from Weight Watchers. I had long assumed that they were indeed “watching” me, probably in anticipatory amusement, so I wasn’t surprised. Since all emails are opportunities to earn money and learn important things about both finances and anatomy, I paid close attention when a heretofore unknown product called “skinny pasta” was mentioned. I had never seen the word “skinny” in such close proximity to my own name, at least not in the last 30 years.

Dawn ordered a box of 6 packages of it from Amazon. It’s a little pricey, but not terribly so. Compared to the bill for getting one’s arteries cleared of obstructions, it becomes very affordable.

We were both excited to try it, as the pasta itself basically has zero fat and almost no calories. The Amazon brand also was “no odor,” which leads me to believe that there must be some Konjac pasta which smells like blended skunk livers out there on the market. By the way, you should search for “Konjac,” if for no other reason than to get the idea of liquefied skunk livers far away from your mind.

This pasta was ridiculously easy to prepare and almost impossible to screw up, both qualities which scream my name. I made a healthy marinara sauce for it and offered a bowl to Dawn. I forgot to mention that a relatively small pouch of this pasta contains almost 40% of the daily recommended fiber, too. I suspect it would be ideal to feed to one’s unsavory inlaws, especially if any of them were about to embark on a transatlantic flight – or engage in a dance marathon. If anyone you know has recently bought a new leather couch, this product might also be ideal for him or her.

After a few bites, Dawn said, “This reminds me of eating worms. I stepped on a worm this morning and this is exactly like that.” She made a face so contorted and unnatural that I imagined I heard an ominous bell ring somewhere in the distance, one signaling the end of all that is good and holy in the world. I expected her to then make the sign of the cross and throw her fork across the room. If you are wondering, her face was frozen in horror for 5 days as a result of her taste buds deciding that she was eating worms instead of pasta made from an exotic plant. Please note that it wasn’t the flavor she objected to; rather, it was the strange and unfamiliar texture of the pasta noodles. It might as well have been a plate of human hair, in her opinion.

I, of course, found it to be exceedingly delicious, in part because with the right sauce and/or seasoning, even thin cardboard can be exotically tasty. Anyone who has ever eaten at Buffalo Wild Wings, KFC, or Taco Bell should have no problem eating worms. Legal disclaimer: I doubt any of these chains add worms to their ingredients; my point is that their food is comparable to a mouthful of partially-cooked and gelatinous worms, topped with dirt and dead pigeons. I made the point about cardboard because I’ve discovered that the cardboard packaging at most fast-food restaurants is just as flavorful as the contents.

With the votes tallied, our votes zeroed one another. I, however, love this stuff. The texture is exotic. It reminds me a little bit of spongy surgical sutures as it rolls around in my mouth.

Given that we now live in a society which allows an archaic electoral college to override the majority or the will of the people, it is my pleasure to announce that my ecstatic and overwhelmingly positive review of this product declares that Skinny Pasta is delicious.

I recommend that everyone should try it once and decide if they agree that it is well worth the effort. It won’t make you run 3 miles a day, but in combination with a better diet, you will no longer need to.

P.S. If you order this, don’t eat the packaging. If you’re married, don’t attempt to use my logic at home. If you own Buffalo Wild Wings, KFC, or Taco Bell, please don’t add any flavorings to the food packaging – it’s already delicious and high in fiber.

 

Grilled Fingers

Before going to my favorite cabin last weekend, I acquired both a gas grill basket and glove. I’ve mocked both of these tools in the past. I’ve watched as grown men oohed and ahhed over the accessories for cooking – and laughed. While I prefer charcoal to gas, the world has conspired against me, especially in my neighborhood, as the pyros continue to hold their impromptu “Burn The Village” competition at least twice a year. You’ll know when there has been another round because invariably some fool has burned a black outline around several surrounding houses. I have an inexpensive charcoal grill at home and keep hoping that it will be stolen.

Grilling corn on the cob is incredibly better when I don’t burn my fingers like they are roman candles on the 4th of July. I love the taste of burned food and always have but my wife complains when I burn myself and it smells like someone’s arm has been held over a stove until the hair melts.

I’m a terrible cook and have learned most of my tricks by doing everything wrong, repeatedly. Think “Groundhog Day,” the movie, except in the kitchen, and starring Joe Pesci instead of Bill Murray.

I finally used the grill basket and found it to be a great tool. The problem in my case is that I somehow forgot how to use the clasp to hold the top part of the basket in place, mostly to avoid slinging all the expensive and delicious food to be grilled down into the gulley below the cabin. Good for the critters and bad for me.

I told Dawn, “I know this is stupidly easy, but I can’t figure it out!” I studied the handle of the basket like it contained the recipe for free beer. I almost opted to cook like a savage, over an open flame. I simply couldn’t figure it out, so I improvised and used the grill and oven glove each time I flipped the basket, which also was astonishingly great to use. I knew I was going to later laugh at my inability to use simple gadgets.

When we came home, Dawn pulled the grill basket from the supply box and said, “Look, it goes on like this.” She then easily moved the wooden portion of the handle down and away from the clasp, thus immediately being able to lock the basket closed in either direction. The light bulb went off above my head as the flash of obvious and “Duh!!” struck me in the face.

I would take a picture of the grill basket in question, but I’m not sure my reputation would survive the incredulity of anyone seeing it. It is the equivalent of the warning on the bottom of a Coke bottle which reads, “Open other end.”

In my defense, I thought it was odd that a basket constructed of hardened metal would have a wooden handle insert. It literally never crossed my mind that the insert could be moved.

I think I’m going to send my picture to the grill basket company, to let them know that their engineers obviously can’t make everything foolproof. They can use my photo to identify their new target audience and user, the fool they didn’t plan for.

P.S. I am credited with the warning on all grills manufactured in the U.S. which reads, “Heated surfaces may be hot.”

You’re welcome.

Inedible Tongue-In-Cheek

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Worse than hearing about another person’s views is the blathering many men exhibit when boasting about how rare they prefer their meat -as if superiority or bragging rights are somehow conferred based on the observable blood volume of what’s being consumed.

Liking raw or rare meat is a bias based on arbitrary and variable individual human preference and therefore is covered by the “Food Opinion Edict.” (Summarized as, “All food is opinion.”)

 

Note: I’d rather lick the toilet in a bus station bathroom at noon on Saturday than eat under-cooked flesh.

YesOrNo.com

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Note: this is an older post. Seeing Netflix and a few other sites adopt an idea I’ve had forever makes me smile – as I recommended exactly this course of action several years ago in this blog post.

I’m going to start a website called “YesOrNo.” It will cover websites, restaurants, vehicles, tourists spots, movies, music and anything under the sun. It will be a testament to minimalism and focus in a world of too many options. If you are neutral to the website, movie, or restaurant, you don’t vote. No fence-sitting is allowed.

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Instead of being weighed down by too many details, there are only going to be 2 options: “yes” or “no.” No comments. No categories to obfuscate the response. No Yelp-like lawsuits alleging vote-fixing or reviews. Studies have shown that too many options reduces our happiness and satisfaction.

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Users will need to learn to be discerning with their votes. There will be neutral option. Either you vote or you don’t – but you’re going to need to decide between “yes” or “no.”

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There will be technical issues to address governing how to identify participants and/or lessen abuse of voting. That’s true of any website or business idea. Clever, motivated people combined with technology should eliminate all the major hurdles.

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With a social element, users can choose to add “trusted voters” to their logins so that they can refine their trusted opinions over time. This will allow you to ask the website to recommend a new place or experience to you, based on input from you and others who are similarly minded. In my scenario, however, the data will be limited to tallying without superfluous detail.

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Unlike Angie’s List, users won’t be expected to pay – as such services exclude much of the population. It does tend to cause an uptick in the “crazies” noticing your website, but again, technology can overcome most of the stupidity that will ensue.

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It’s so strange to see Tinder doing well. I’ve joked about yesorno.com for a long time, especially after an old-school website called “checkthegrid” died. On my old blog I had this idea designed, with screenshots and graphs. Like most people, though, my enthusiasm usually sputters at the implementation of an idea.

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At it’s heart, the website would be simple categories, with “green” indicating “yes,” and “red” equating to “no.”

 

Never Buy Chocolate From France?

Never Buy Chocolate From France

Last year, my cousin Wynona went to Europe. When she stopped in France, she spent a fortune buying candy and treats for friends and family. She hadn’t traveled much and wanted to get everyone something to commemorate her experiences outside of the U.S.

Surprisingly, she sent me some chocolate. She included a note to inform me that France was famous for its chocolatiers and confectioneries. (She doesn’t get out much, it seems.) She later sent me a t-shirt from Germany, one missing the right sleeve.

Whether she did so as a joke or not, I’m not sure, but one of the bags she sent me looked exactly like a bag of Hershey’s Kisses. Each candy was foil-wrapped and shaped vaguely like a pyramid, too. The writing was French, though. I hoped she hadn’t spent money on a common chocolate without realizing it. I put the bag in the pantry and forgot about it, as I was trying to avoid consumption of large amounts of treats and unhealthy foods.

A week or so later, I was craving something sweet. I pulled out my cousin Wynona’s bag of candy, opened it, and went to sit on the couch to watch a little TV.

I opened the first Kiss and threw it into my gaping mouth, letting it melt instead of chewing furiously on it.

After a few seconds, I felt something rub against my tongue, like a faint tickle. After another few seconds, it felt like a worm was brushing against the inside of my lip and on the tip of my tongue.

I leaned over the coffee table and spit it out without thinking. In the melted mass of chocolate was a wriggling bit of something which definitely looked like a worm.

“Gross!” I hollered.

Since my friend JoJo speaks fluent French, I grabbed the bag of candy and the melted piece expelled from my mouth and drove over to her house.

When I arrived, we exchanged pleasantries and then I told her about the candy and the ‘worm’ in the chocolate.

When I handed her the original bag that resembled a U.S. version of Hershey’s Kisses, JoJo burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny, JoJo? I think I ate a worm or something.” I’m not sure why, but her levity irritated me a little bit.

“X, read right here,” JoJo said, pointing to the bag.

“That’s a piece of tongue in the candy. After all, they are FRENCH Kisses.”