Uncle Bud's Deep Fried Peanuts

As I was shopping at my local high-end grocer the other day, I noticed a new snack product on the shelf near the organic lettuce where I found Snapea Crisps: Uncle Bud's Deep Fried Peanuts. There were a few varieties available, and I chose "Hot." According to Uncle Bud, these are "so good you can et 'm SHELL-N-ALL" (capitalization courtesy of Bud himself).


Normally eating peanut shells would be quite terrible, but I was feeling adventurous. It was nearly 10:30 and I just had two beers, plus I was already in a mood for insomnia, so I figured "anything goes."

The first peanut, shell-on, was nearly flavorless and spiceless, minus the slightest hint of garlic. Perhaps the gum I had been chewing just 10 minutes earlier was interfering. I ate on.

Three peanuts in, the spice was barely growing. I was expecting to wake up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night with my innards on fire. It was time to try one without the shell. Luckily, many of the shells were split in half, just begging to be removed. Unfortunately, the minimal seasonings did not make it to the inner goodness, so the peanuts tasted plain, if not slightly altered.

Well, now I had a lonely shell sitting there, and I was not about to waste it. Once again, garlic, spice -- a little bit more this time, particularly at the rear sides of the tongue -- and weird peanut shell texture.

I ate the next peanut whole, and it tasted exactly like normal mashed potatoes. At this point, I was not sure what the hell was going on. The most exciting thing that happened during my snacking was the discovery of a single peanut in a single-peanut-sized shell.


Yet, somehow I ate on -- probably because these tasted a lot like normal peanuts, which are pretty damn good. And I did find myself eating them "shell n all" because the soybean oil must have softened the slightly charred shells up. Uncle Bud did one thing right, though: He found a way to get the spice to linger on the tongue for an extended length of time to increase snacking duration.

In a nut shell: You should buy these if you love normal peanuts, are lazy and have a low tolerance for spice.

The legend of Thunder Crunch

Ah yes. Food package essays. They’re great because I know that if I am hungry for a delicious snack and I am having trouble making up my mind, I can just read a few paragraphs and make an informed decision. Here’s an essay found on the back of a bag of Alaska Chip Company jalapeño-flavored Volcano Chips that my beautiful and exciting girlfriend Jayme brought me from her trip to Alaska.


The essay gets even better when you replace the word “miner” with “minor” and my thoughts on the actual product follow it.


The Alaska Chip Story
People in the Matanuska Valley have long known the secret of Alaskan potatoes. Potatoes so full of crunch they aren’t grown, they’re mined [1]. Potato miners don’t seek the spotlight, you won’t see them in many headlines, they are searching for a potato so elusive, so robust, that many said it was just a story told by old sourdoughs[2, 3]. Some laughed at the potato miners, mocking their epic quest for a spud known only as “Thunder Crunch.”

For others, just hearing the words Thunder Crunch fills their hearts with fear. They blame the many earthquakes, aurora borealis and other phenomena in the Northland on these hearty vegetables [4, 5]. Some even said searching for the legendary spud should be banned, due to the many dangers involved.

In the spring of ’03, legend became reality when deep below the Matanuska Valley a rumble was heard that would forever change the way we think of chips. Thunder Crunch was discovered by the miners, and those unsung heroes have brought them to the surface to be enjoyed by everyone.

There are still those who fear the legend, but for the brave souls willing to reap the rewards of the potato miner, life just got a little better [6].

[1] Does “crunch” imply that they grow in caves, or tens of feet below the surface?
[2] This is a really great sentence.
[3] WTF is a “sourdough”? Is this really how they talk in Alaska?
[4] I thought there was only one Thunder Crunch.
[5] I thought potatoes were “tubers,” not vegetables.
[6] I disagree. Read on to see why.


The first thing you will notice about this product is its uncanny resemblance to a bag of Cape Cod Chips. I have not researched this further, but this can only mean two things: There is a chip company out there that only has factories in quirky geographic locations, or the Alaska Chip Company loves plagiarizing.

Any way, I was pretty excited about eating something with “volcano” in the name because I was such a huge fan of the short-lived Volcano Taco from Taco Bell. Although Volcano Chips were indeed delicious, the experience of consuming them was not entirely pleasant.

At first bite, they were immediately spicy, with a prominent and genuine jalapeño taste. The spice wasn’t too intense though, so the only eruption was my nose as the medium spice level caused it to run. I went through half of the 5-ounce bag (if not more) then told myself to go dormant [7].

Five minutes after consumption, there was a chive-like aftertaste in the back of my throat. This was nothing compared to the rumblings in my stomach. I was feeling nauseous and had a headache. It was like an instant hangover from the chips. I was actually dizzy. I needed a nap.

I suppose I can’t blame the chips entirely though. Prior to eating them, I had finished a breakfast which had included an “everything bagel,” a donut, some coffee and some hot chocolate.

So there you have it: Volcano chips taste pretty good, and I have terrible eating habits when I am at work.

[7] This is a volcano joke.

Alaskan reindeer sausage

If you know me (and you probably do, because why would you be reading this if you didn't?) you might be aware that when I go on a road trip, I need two items with me: Pizzeria Pretzel Combos (The cheese snack of NASCAR) and some sort of dehydrated meat product. In light of recent events, I now know what I will be buying if I ever find myself on the road in Anchorage, Alaska.

My lovely girlfriend Jayme recently returned from a trip to Alaska, bearing goods both edible and otherwise. Despite her limited meat intake, she was kind enough to bring me an "Alaska Jack's Red Pepper Hunter Steak with Reindeer Meat."

After last week's sabbatical I knew my return to the blogosphere had to be really special. I could think of no better way to do that than by consuming some reindeer -- our friends who help Santa bring us gifts at Christmas!

I can't wait any longer ... Let me open my present!



Upon opening the package, which was thankfully incredibly easy to do -- unlike many kinds of jerky, my nose was filled with a rather typical "summer sausage" odor. And by typical, I mean 100% mouth-watering.

The sausage was about the size and color of an overdone 7-11 hotdog (normal ones were a childhood post-church staple for me) without the wrinkles. The rounded ends had been cut off, like a fat cigar ready to be smoked so the flavor lingers on your tongue for hours, no matter how many times you brush your teeth. I was hoping the flavor of Alaska Jack's hunter steak would stay with me for an equal period of time.

After one bite of the meat cylinder, the aforementioned desire for lingering flavor grew even stronger. The first taste tasted like your typical damn-good non-meal sausage. Then a slight burn developed, grew ever so slightly, and tapered off.

I have never tasted reindeer so I can't tell you how it affected the flavor. However, I feel 100% comfortable telling you that I wish this sausage had been two feet long. Perhaps I can persuade Jayme's vegetarian uncle in Anchorage to mail me a crate.

I guess the lesson here is that delicious food is key to brevity.

Burger King Burger Shots (A guest post from down Texas way)

One day my friend Matt, resident of Austin, Texas and finalist in the High School Lunch Memories Contest, sent me an "instant message" to tell me that he was surprised that I had not yet reviewed Burger King's Burger Shots. I replied that I was also surprised and I thought that he would also be a good man for the job. He agreed, so here you have it. By the way, this is Matt:


Living about a block away from a Burger King, and being without cable television, I first learned about BK Burgershots from the illustrious block letter marquee fixed underneath the Burger King sign. I initially envisioned some horrid burger-in-a-cup scenario; online research revealed these burgershots to be the far tamer threat of bite-size burgers. Burger King is no stranger to questionable names: witness the Angry Whopper or Croissan'wich. An infrequent fast-food consumer, I am nonetheless drawn in by all things gimmicky, and I knew I needed some of these tiny sandwiches.


Little Lady Laura and I stopped in for lunch today. I ordered a six-pack of burgershots and a four piece chicken tender, she ordered a whopper. We both got fittingly tiny plastic cups for water. The flat panel television was playing Disney's High School Musical, keeping up the theme of digestable, disposable flash-in-the-pan pop garbage. But here, I'm being too hard on the little guys.


They were perfectly adequate miniature representations of the standard BK burger: meat, cheese, two pickles, ketchup and mustard. The patties featured the ubiquitous grill-marks (I think Burger King would put char marks on the soda, if they could), belying the microwave prep I see every time I order here. One disturbing fact: the burgers are connected, joined at the patty, and the box encourages a "tear-and-share" method of dispersal, as if you and and a friend were only really hungry enough for 1 oz of meat a piece.


The box/product appeared to be sponsored by Heinz Ketchup, apparently "the only ketchup fit for a king". The paragraph on the other side of the box stated that these mini burgers were "designed to move", though I'm not sure how much more handy or aerodynamic they are than a regular hamburger, especially with their siamese-twin attachment. As a comparison, I snuck a few bites of the Little Lady's Whopper while she was in the restroom, and the cornocupia of veggies, sauces, and more substantial meat beat the pants off the burgershots. They were never intended for this sort of competition, though, and for what they are they elicited a not-condescending "meh" from both the Lady and myself.

Again, perfectly adequate carbon copies of the standard hamburger. Not really enough of a taste sensation for me to order again, though I am keen to try the breakfast shots. What can I say? I'm a sucker for tiny hamburgers. One final note: these are not sliders. Sliders sometimes have greasier buns and "special" sauce, but they always have grilled onions, which were sadly missing from the burgershots. This is what separates them from White Castle or the immortal Bates Hamburgers of greater Wayne and Livonia.

Bacon Jam vs. Baconnaise in BJBALT form

This one goes out to the Onion AV Club Taste Test team, who always gets the first bite of bacon derivatives. Chew on this!

Before we ruin our appetites, a little background is in order. I first heard about Bacon Jam in a post on a completely irrelevant message board. It was being sold by some scooter shop out west that was charging something like $14 for shipping. Being the occasionally wise consumer, I Googled "Bacon Jam" and was able to order it directly from the source -- Skillet, a roving diner in Airstream Trailer form out west. What will the Starbucks-addled minds of the Pacific Northwest think of next?!



Bacon Jam. It sweats through its own jar. Looks like cat food and smells like beef jerky. Perfectly suitable as a bacon substitute for a BLT. Right? Well ...



Bacon in non-strip form certainly has this going for it: If you put it on a sandwich, that sandwich will be very easy to cut in half, and you don't have to worry about failing to chomp through it and bringing an entire strip along with your bite. Of course, the tradeoff is that there is no crisp bacon crunch.

So, how does Bacon Jam taste? I had some friends come over to Nate's Plate HQ to tell me just that.

We made some "BLTs" using Bacon Jam as the meat, and Baconnaise (Kosher and vegetarian, from the people who brought us Bacon Salt) instead of regular mayo. I even got fancy and put avocado on them because the grocery store I went to sells avocados and tomatoes next to each other (clearly a display marketing genius's finest work). Sourdough was the bread of the evening. For the sake of accuracy, these sandwiches will be referred to as BJBALTs (Bacon Jam, Baconnaise, Avocado, Lettuce, Tomato).


The orange stuff is Baconnaise and the brown stuff is Bacon Jam.

The sandwiches were washed down with the nectar of the gods known as Magic Hat #9. If it wasn't for the fact that I'm not a big drinker, there is a good chance this stuff would turn me into an alcoholic.

Here were reactions to the first two BJBALTs:

Stacey
"In some ways this is superior to a regular BLT."
"I'm not really tasting the Baconnaise" (this one will prove to be untrue).
"When you told me about Bacon Jam, I was expecting a gelatin with chunks of bacon suspended in it ...(Instead) it's like a paté."

Me (internal monologue)
"This is pretty good. Not quite normal, but I would definitely eat this again." I didn't even notice that the bacon texture was missing.

Logan
"It kinda tastes like a cheeseburger. Like a Wendy's Jr. Bacon to be specific."
"When I first heard the term Bacon Jam, I almost threw up a little. But you get the lettuce and tomato consistency and forget about the jam."

At this point, Logan wanted a second BJBALT even though both Stacey and I swore he had previously said he was not much of a BLT fan. He claims he said he just wasn't a tomato fan. As round two was being prepared, Amber, bacon fan supreme, arrived toting an electric griddle that she generously bestowed upon Nate's Plate HQ.

The second course was served soon enough and it proved to be quite enlightening.

Amber
"I don't really taste bacon."
"I don't taste bacon at all and I just had a BLT yesterday so the taste is fresh in my mind."
"The texture is like a tuna sandwich."
"I want real bacon"

As for me, I was discovering that something about the BJBALT was seriously wreaking havoc on the taste of my Magic Hat #9 and that is a major offense. I was beginning to realize that this was not a substitute for actual bacon.

Stacey disagreed. Then, we decided to evaluate Bacon Jam and Baconnaise on their own by spreading them onto tiny pieces of bread -- a course of action that would soon make her realize the error of her ways.

First up: Bacon Jam. Descriptors included "ham salad" (think deviled ham in a chicken salad-like concoction) and "vaguely smoky." Everyone agreed that some sort of sweet onion seemed to be an ingredient.

The only ingredients listed on the Skillet Street Food site are: Rendered "really really good bacon," "a bunch of spices," onions and "etc.," which I believe is like MSG.[1]

How about Baconnaise, the intended condiment? It proved to be responsible for the earlier falsely perceived success of Bacon Jam.



Stacey summed it up best saying, "The only reason I thought that it tasted like a BLT was the Baconnaise."

Pushing Baconnaise farther up the deliciousness totem pole is the fact that while both it and Bacon Jam have to be ordered online, Baconnaise arrives in mere days while Bacon Jam takes weeks.

This is not to say that Bacon Jam is a complete failure, though. Perhaps it's not even meant as a bacon replacement, but as a new kind of bacon product, filling a niche that few of us knew existed. To this end, Bacon Jam will next be evaluated on its own to better assess its ideal use, so stay seated and don't throw your napkin away just yet.

[1] This is a joke. Back up to the article.

Bacon Jam ... Take a whiff

What comes in a jar that sweats bacon, looks like cat food, and smells like the moistest beef jerky ever? Bacon Jam! Some friends came over to Nate's Plate HQ last night and sampled Bacon Jam AND Baconnaise using a new interpretation of the BLT. Part one of our analysis goes live tonight, so be sure to keep your eyes on the hot social networking sites and RSS feeds for when dinner is served.


Oh, and to the Onion A.V. Club Taste Testers: How does it feel to get scooped?!

Zipfizz, the miracle placebo hangover cure

I wrote this on a Sunday morning after being out until 4 a.m. so please disregard all time references.

Zipfizz engergy drink mix is an orange powder that comes in an orange tube (dubbed a test tube by its makers) that my friend Stacey got for free from a local liquor store. She got it for free because she inquired about what the hell it was. The cashier apparently told her he had no idea and that she should have some for free. Obviously, this mystery tube had to be consumed immediately, if not sooner.

I had actually reviewed Zipfizz once before, and it was a damn good review. When it came time to publish, however, the draft had vanished from my computer. The folder it had been in even contained a file icon for it that became invisible when I clicked on it. Not being one to give up easily, I got my hands on another tube (AKA Stacey felt bad for me and gave me her second test tube of it). Then, that tube disappeared before I could review it. Lucky for me, one of my cat's treats slid under the oven this morning and when I went to extract it for him, I found the missing tube. I knew I had to review it soon, but I told myself I was too sleepy and hungover to do so today. Then I realized -- This was the perfect moment in which to put Zipfizz to the test!

After some hesitation, I once again mixed the tube of "healthy energy" orange soda flavored powder into 16 - 20 ounces of water, taking note that I should not consume more than three tubes today in case I somehow managed to get my hands on more.

The powder reacted in a couple minutes, leaving some stagnant nuclear orange liquid, topped wth some even brighter foam, in my drinking vessel (a mason jar some spaghetti sauce had come in). The liquid was not fizzy at all -- quite the disappointment. The taste was actually not that bad and it reminded me of either weak orange soda mixed with something creamy, or watery Sunny D.

The flavor, however, is but one piece of the puzzle here. The test tube promised me healthy energy and I would settle for nothing less. As I sipped away, I reacquainted myself with this special health powder.

I felt extra glad to not be a child, a pregnant woman, a person who is sensitive to caffeine or a person with a health problem, because if I was, Zipfizz would not be recommened to me. Things being as they were, however, I was able to enjoy the Zipfizz proprietary blend, which is as follows:
L-Arginine
Caffeine from guarana seed extract
L-Taurine
Alpha-Lipoic Acid
Grape seed extract
Green tea leaf extract
American Ginseng root extract
Ginger root

Ah, the good stuff. And it seemed to be working, though whether or not that was due to the famed placebo effect was unclear (this is what I had discovered during my last experiment with Zipfizz). I can't say I'd urge you to run out and get your hands on a tube, but Zipfizz was with me when my hangover subsided and that counts for something.

An Angry (and confused) Whopper

When people ask me what an Angry Whopper is, I explain to them that an onion was abused with spices and other devious measures during its formative days in the soil and is here for revenge, or at least that's what my TV tells me. What doesn't make sense about this (among many things) is that half of the onions on the Angry Whopper had no detectable spice. The jalapeños sure did though, and boy is there a lot of mayo Angry Sauce.


Oftentimes in our lives, confusion makes us act out in anger. In the case of the Angry Whopper, I am just confused. Sure, it is delicious (no small feat for the vaporized grease pushers at Burger King), but I don't really feel like I "know" the Angry Whopper. I have consumed one on two separate occasions -- One with a meal, and one as an a la carte sandwich for the whopping big price of $4.02 -- and I still don't get it.

Some bites of the Angry Whopper taste exactly like its well adjusted Whopper sibling, which makes sense since the receipt I was given reads 1 SC WHOPCHZ 3.89 PLUS ANGRY(!) 0.60. Others treat you with the sweet burn of jalapeños. My virgin bite of an Angry (I'll call it this for brevity's sake for here on out) tasted completely normal and I found myself wondering if I had been slipped the wrong burger or if I had developed an extremely high tolerance for spice. As I ate on, randomly placed jalapeños added some hot surprises with intensity that grew stronger as the burger diminished. Bite to bite, though, the experience is hardly consistent, which I suppose is true of anger itself.

It's worth taking a look at the Angry's ingredients, in prioritized order as seen on the Burger King web site.

Angry Onions: The first time I ate an Angry, I was convinced that the "spicy onions thing" was a total lie. The only angering thing about them was that they suffered from that problem you have with onion rings where you take a bite and the onion comes out, leaving a fried shell behind. During my second Angry experience, I hand-picked an Angry Onion for solo consumption. The first bite tasted like the onion ring nub it resembled, but the second bite actually had some spice. Confusing!
Jalapeños: It's hard to mess these up. They're spicy and sweet with a burn that increases as you eat more of the Angry. My only complaint is that their haphazard placement leads to inconsistent heat.
Pepper Jack Cheese: My friends know that I hate at least 88% of the cheese on the market. For a pure taste test, I left the cheese on and it either is completely flavorless, is pretty damn good, or is masked by all of the other "fixins."
An Angry Sauce: I was convinced that my first Angry was just topped with plain old mayonnaise. So were my hands, my face and my notes. The sauce was everywhere and I wasn't even recklessly chomping. After I was told about "An Angry Sauce" (why "an"?????) I made sure to take note of it during my second spiral into anger. As far as I can tell it tastes like sweet BBQ sauce.

For some reason, Burger King does not highlight the fact that there is bacon on this thing. Perhaps it's because there is barely any present. When I first looked at the Angry, before eating it, I thought I saw a piece of bacon. But as I continued to eat, I was convinced that I had seen a funny-looking onion. My notes even say something like "I thought a piece of onion was a piece of bacon. Fail." Later on, I discovered a two-inch strip of bacon. There definitely needs to be better bacon coverage on the Angry.

So, after we've all calmed down and had some time to think, do we care enough about the Angry Whopper to forgive its quirks? Absolutely. It's fast food, so it's imperfect but absolutely delicious.

Grill skillz: 1980's Wendy's hamburger training rap

Continuing the spirit of food-inspired raps, here's one about burgers. Apparently it's a an '80s Wendy's training video. Thanks to Amber for the tip! Remember kids, "it should be gray and moist to be correct."

Part one starts sizzlin' at about 01:40


Part two'll flip your patties around 02:30

The Lemonhead Song (So Damn Good)

This fall, my friend Rachel sent me a music video, telling me that it was made in Detroit. After about 30 seconds, I knew I was going to have to interview Dave Chaney, the genius behind the Lemonhead Song. I met one of his friends at a party and gave her my email address so he could get in touch, but I apparently wrote it down wrong. I caught up him on Facebook last week and he had been trying to email me since September, so I shot some questions his way. Red Lobster is his favorite restaurant, so he obviously has great taste (I once ate 93 shrimp there). Here's what he had to say about eating Lemonheads every day.



Do you like lemon in general, or just Lemonheads? Lemon Jolly Ranchers? Mike's Hard Lemonade? Do you clean your house with Lemon Pledge?

Ummmmmmmmm. FORGET everything else I love LEMONHEADS! LOL. They are the best sensation to my mouth. The candy has the best sour to sweet transition ever. The texture is well defined and I almost pissed on myself when I tasted the chewy lemonheads for the first time.

What did your friends think when you told them about the Lemonheads Song / video?

They weren't even surprised. Lol. I'm always up to something random. So when I told them they were anxious to see it. People actually tell me it's a nice video and that it would make it on real T.V.

How long did the song exist before you decided to make a video?

The song was produced well over a month before the video came out. Matter of fact, Tommie Green didn't even want to shoot a video for the song; he thought it was a stupid idea. The first scene of the music video actually happened.

Is the video filmed all in Detroit?

Of course. I didn't travel for that video. Tommie Green, the director/CEO of WhiteWood wanted to shoot it all in Detroit. Most of the video was filmed in my basement. The rest was in a very uncivilized area in Detroit and at the studio I recorded the song.

Who made the music for the song?

Rawtalent Productions. Thanks for spending those long hours in the studio helping my non-rapping ass. Check them out at www.myspace.com/therealrawtalent

How did you come up with the Lemonhead Hawk?

I made a video about going to war with people that nag about me eating lemonheads so much. It's called Lemonhead Helmet (I'm ready for war). In the video I wear a helmet made of lemonhead boxes and I have a knife. I go on explaining how I will call among the "Lemonhead Hawk" to guide me in my journey. LOL!! I don't know man, it's completely ridiculous.

Do you have other songs about food? I saw another Whitewood video about "Throw some cheese on that beef (just bought a Big Mac)." Is food a popular thing with Whitewood?

No, the Lemonhead Song is the only song I wrote about food. I wrote another song about the word SHAMAKAKAKA and one about poking a nicca(stabbing with a knife)lol. You have to watch more of my videos if you don't understand. Throw some cheese on that is a mock of RICH BOY'S "throw some D's". I'm not really sure why he chose to talk about a burger but I know that's one of our most popular video. Rich Boy himself added that video as his favorite on Youtube. Food isn't a popular thing with Whitewood, we just try to film what people want to see and hear.

Do you actually eat Lemonheads every day?

Yes I do!.....LEEEEMOOOON HEAAAADSS THEY ARE SO DAMN GOOD, I EAT EM EVERYDAY!!!!!

How long have you been eating Lemonheads for?

Maaaaaaaaann!!! I've been eating lemonheads before I started growing pubic hair. LOL...ummm so about 16 years.

Do any of your friends share your passion for Lemonheads?

Yea, some of my friends tell me they started eating lemonheads because of me. I have fans that write me about their passion for lemonheads, but I think it is all for my attention. lol

Do you have a Lemonheads tattoo? Would you get one?

I thought about getting a tattoo of a lemon actually. Then I thought about it again and told myself "I'm not THAT crazy" lol.

I saw you made a Lemonheads necklace in the video. Have you made other Lemonheads art? Have you ever used them in cooking?

Yea, I made that Lemonhead Necklace specifically for the Lemonhead Song Music Video. I hate to admit that it's gone now; it was eaten up by some ants...lol. (Don't leave candy hanging around in your room). I made a girlfriend, a bracelet, a pair of sunglasses and a gun out of Lemonhead boxes. Cooking? No, I usually consider a box a lemonheads breakfast though...

What are some other foods / restaurants you like? Would you ever try 7 Mile Shrimp Palace?

I love Mexican food and sea food. Red Lobster is my favorite restaurant and no I wouldn't try 7 mile Shrimp Palace (lol). It probably taste just as awful as the other shrimp they serve on 7 mile. I stay on 7 mile by the way.

Is there anything else you'd like to add?

Well look out for the second episode of the Lemonhead Show, the Poke a Nicca music video and I have another song coming soon.

Announcing the winners of the High School Lunch Memories Contest

After careful consideration, I have chosen the winners of the Nate's Plate High School Lunch Memories Contest. Why winners and not winner? Each of the following stories were fantastic for completely different reasons. Coincidentally, they were submitted in the order in which I am honoring them. So, Alia, John and Matthew: Get in touch and we'll make some dinner reservations.

Bronze award: The mayo bet, by Alia.

Brief, well written and hilarious, I was quite sure this would be a winner when it was submitted.

"During my sophomore year, Art Anderson was in a bet that he could eat a whole jar of mayo. Since he is the ultimate human of all time, he took the challenge at lunch. He got half way done with this jar of mayo and then our not so ultimate principle paid him to stop which was a bummer... but I think she actually paid him more then he would have won through the bet (which was 5 dollars if I recall correctly) which is even better."

Silver award: The school store is "the Pits," by Matthew

This is a trip down memory lane because Matthew and I went to high school together.

Ah, high school. I remember eating on the floor of a large dusty landing and listening to the suicide machines on a tape player that looked like an answering machine while Andrew Miller jumped down the stairs repeatedly.

When I purchased actual food, which was rare, it was usually a piece of pizza with the flavour and consistency of modeling clay and an apple juice with a foil lid that always managed to find new ways to spill all over my pants. Most of the time though, it was three chocolate chip cookies.

Three glorious, gooey, tooth-rotting freshly baked cookies for a dollar, shoveled into a bag gone translucent from the fat and pure awesome they contained. Quite often these cookies would clump together, and you would be forced to pick at the edges before finally manning up and confronting this absurd, half-baked brick of semi-solid goo. It was impossible for me to eat this brick without smearing chocolate all over my zit-pocked face and billabong hoodie in full view of the cute, popular girls who hung around the Salem School Store. Not that they were paying any attention to me, instead making googley-eyes at the meatheads behind the counter with their hooters t-shirts and downy soft whispers of goatee.

One time I decided to venture to the Canton building (my high school, and Nate's high school, and possibly your high school was actually two high schools on the same campus) to see what sort of mysterious and exotic cookies they peddled. Turns out they were the exact same cookies, albeit sold in what resembled a holiday inn gift shop next to a useless set of stairs to nowhere everyone called the pit. I think people hung out there because they felt they had to. Anyway, I had not idea how to procur cookies at this location. Being incredibly shy and awkward, I conveyed my need for sugar and empty calories through mutters and frantic stares, but the meatheads remained unresponsive. Inwardly furious, I got out of there as fast as I could, striding in speedy shame back to Salem in order not to be late for art class. Having missed my fix, I bought a bag of cookies during passing time and ate them so quickly they made me sick and my stomach loudly gurgle all throughout english.

I'm not sure what lesson to extract from this, other than cookies are great and stay out of the Canton School Store.

Gold award: Lunchtime Coke problem, by John

I can't think of a more memorable and traumatizing lunch experience.

This story definitely began during school lunch but extended for several hours beyond in the emergency room.

So I was one of those kids whose mom packed their lunch. Every lunch was wholesome and nutritious; carrot sticks, Oscar Meyer ham sandwich, Welch's juice box, maybe a bag of Doritos. That sort of thing.

Around seventh grade, my sister and I started pestering my mom to buy 12 packs of Coke for us to take in our lunches as they were delicious and we were thoroughly addicted to caffeine. After a few weeks of begging she finally conceded.

One day I grab my brown bag lunch off the top shelf of my locker and take it down to the lunch room. Upon arrival I was horrified to find that my lunch was squashed (mayo shooting out of the side of the sandwich, chips crushed) and the Coke can was dented to hell.

"What the hell," I thought. "I'm young and virile, I can handle a dented up Coke can." I did the "tap the top" thing that supposedly takes down the pressure in the can (it doesn't), popped the fucker open and started drinking the Cola-flavored corn juice.

At the end of lunch I had finished my meal and daily routine of throwing bagels at nerds and pickles at windows and tipped the Coke to get the last drops of my brown rebellion.

Something totally hurt. Like a lot. In my throat. So I went down to the drinking fountain to drink some water. Ouch. Every time I swallowed there was an INTENSE pain. It felt fucking weird and I couldn't figure out what the fuck was going on. I still had the Coke can with me and examined its insides. Had someone put razor blades in it?

No, the tab that goes inside the can when you popped it had fallen into the can and I had drank it and got it stuck in my throat. I went to the school nurse and she called my mom and my mom took me to the emergency room. I was put in a room at the back of some darkened hallway with nothing but a spitoon. I couldn't swallow without intense pain, so I spit. For hours.

Finally, they came to take an X-ray of my fucked up insides. They took me into the room and gave me a cup of this milky, chalky white liquid to drink. "Barium," the technician said. "Barium swallows." I laughed at the phrase "barium swallows" (obvi) but it hurt so I stopped. "It'll let us see where this pop can thing is stuck." I drank it.

The barium tasted like chalk and gunmetal. It was fucking gross. So after I swallowed it they put me under the X-ray machine and I realized it didn't hurt anymore. Somehow the heavy metal cocktail washed it away, down into my guts. I went home with my mom super pissed at me for not previously drinking a heavy metal cocktail while I worried about shitting out a pop tab the next day.

I never shit it out (I presume it dissolved in my stomach acid) but the next day my shit was white from the barium.

- - -

If you didn't win, don't worry: I still love you and I'd dine with you any time.

Burger King Flame Broiled Flavored Potato Snacks

Don't give yourself indigestion with worries -- Winners of the High School Lunch Memories Contest will be announced tomorrow.

If you enjoyed my review of Burger King Onion Rings Flavored Snacks, you're in for a real treat -- Burger King Flame Broiled Flavored Potato Snacks. This is the second snack in the Burger King snack trifecta, the other being Ketchup and Fries flavored snacks.

The existence of these chips was foretold to me, and I discovered them one day while waiting in line at the local Blockbuster Video. They sat on my counter, awaiting review, for some time. Then, my power went out and I had no access to my refrigerator and no time to go on a Flavor Quest so I knew it was time to fire up the proverbial grill.

I have to admit that I was a bit nervous as I opened the bag. I grew up in close proximity to a Burger King and the "flame broiled" greasy smoke smell hung heavy in the strip mall adjacent to BK. The smell always made me huffily exhale out of my nose and say, "Ew, Burger King smells gross." I imagine the smell of Burger King is how it would smell if you managed to smoke some grease (the way you'd smoke a turkey breast) and then vaporized it. The smell made me see visions of red brick chimneys on the surrounding houses stained black with Essence of Burger King. I swallowed the fearful lump in my throat and broke the seal.

Whiff one of the bag revealed a smell not at all unlike burnt, over-fried normal potato chips. Bleh. Not at all promising, just like Cabo Chips.

Taste one was rather herb-y, followed by a slight beef taste that immediately made me picture rare "beef medallions." Taste two indicated an attempt at simulating "burger fixins." A mildly herbed tomato was definitely present.

Burger King Flame Broiled Flavored Potato Snacks are a prime example of false advertising, which, in this case, is the best thing they have going for them. The smell I hate (smoked grease) is thankfully not present, replace by one I can at least tolerate. And, most importantly, the simulated jazzed-up low-grade beef taste is spot on.

If I had to associate potential actions I would take with these chips regarding the way I feel about them, I'd say that I would suggest you try them, but I probably wouldn't take one from you if you offered to share.

Perhaps you'd like to try my review of Burger King Onion Rings Flavored Snacks. Or Cabo Chips.

Snapea Crisps

As I was browsing my local high-end grocer's produce department, a bag caught my eye. A photo of pea pods, arranged like a haphazard fence, indicated its contents, so I tossed it into my shopping basket without any more thought. I felt very pleased with myself and I anticipated enjoying some fresh, crisp sugar snap peas. WRONG!

I returned from the store and my post-shopping snack attack led me to open the aforementioned bag. As it turns out, I had just purchased Calbee Snack Salad Snapea Crisps. Delicate & tasty. Original flavor. Baked. Net wt. 3.3 oz.

The detailed photo showing peas bulging in pods on the packaging wants us to believe that whole snap peas, in-pod, were baked. I have a different theory.

My theory is that a cauldron of pea soup was left to boil until it was reduced to dried pea sludge. This product was then made into a fine powder and then reconstituted with water before being molded into fuzzy-looking (but not fuzzy) pod-like shapes. Why else would rice be in the list of ingredients?

Taking a cross-section of said pods indicates no discernible individual peas, which just adds more clout to my argument.

Despite the onset of snack confusion, I continued chomping away. I am not even sure if chomping is the right word. These Snapea Crisps aren't really they crisp. They don't snap or crunch. It would be more accurate to say that I was mashing them and dissipating the powder with my teeth as I chewed. The crisps are a light and airy snack, and I am confident that anyone could eat an entire bag in one sitting and still feel hungry. More importantly, they taste good.

The familiar flavor of non-fresh peas is subtly present, and the flavor tricks your tongue into believing that the crisps are more heavily seasoned than they are. The list of ingredients is simple: Green peas, corn oil, rice, salt, calcium carbonate, ascorbic acid (vitamin c).

Adding to this snack's intrigue is the supposed availability of a Caesar-flavored variety, which is sadly not sold at my local store.

My snack confusion yielded a pleasant surprise and I'll conclude this review in agreement with the folks at Calbee America, Inc., quoting the conclusion of the Snapea Crisps product essay: "[I] propose this product as a new type of snack."

By the way, I dare you to win the High School Lunch Memories Contest. Winners will be announced next week.

7 Mile Shrimp Palace of Detroit

If you live in metro Detroit and have been watching channel two at around 2:30 a.m., you may have seen a commercial for a little local shrimp joint, 7 Mile Shrimp Palace. The commercial features a friendly, enthusiastic, welcoming voiceover describing what this palace of fried goods has to offer. What really makes it work is its low-budget aesthetic and the voices of children in the background repeatedly chanting, "7 Mile Shrimp is REAL good."

After seeing the commercial one sleepless night a few months ago, I suddenly remembered it out of the blue and found it on YouTube. After making it "go viral" in my office, my colleague Trevor and I decided we'd make the 16.5-mile trip to Detroit for lunch. We hoped we wouldn't go viral ourselves, and we didn't.

Long story short, 7 Mile Shrimp IS, indeed, real good.

I honestly had no idea what to expect from 7 Mile Shrimp Palace. On our journey there, we crossed paths with everything one does when travelling the perimeter of downtown Detroit: Horrible potholes, roads with undetermined numbers of lanes, abandoned rib shops, burned out traffic lights and scores of hand-painted signage. That's one thing I love about visiting the outskirts of Detroit -- Seeing the peeling works of sign painters past. Also impossible to ignore is the red and yellow color scheme that seems to be mandated by the Detroit Signage and Building Painting Style Guide.

7 Mile Shrimp Palace is not exempt from this motif. We entered the lobby, made our choices from the menu (1/2-pound shrimp baskets with fries and potato salad for $10.28 after tax) and ordered from in front of the bullet-proof glass. They fried our shrimp on-demand as we waited and soaked up the lobby's atmosphere.

A flat-screen TV, surrounded by depictions of fish and shrimp by a local artist, displayed a CSI-like show that depicted dead bodies covered in beetles. A glimpse behind the bullet-proof glass revealed rather sparse facilities. Behind the modest kitchen was a modest utility area, semi-masked by large beverage coolers with sodas and grape drink inside.

After a 10-minute wait, our orders were ready and dispensed to us through the bullet-proof glass carousel. We hightailed it to my car to rush back to the office, since there were no tables to dine upon in the restaurant lobby. As I navigated back toward the Southfield Freeway to save time, Trevor broke open his styrofoam box so we could feast on shrimp "hot and fresh out the kitchen."

The jumbo shrimp had a "beer batter" style coating. They were piping hot, light golden brown, and the perfect texture. I was later told by a friend that this style of batter is called Calabash for the town in North Carolina, "The Seafood Capital of the World." Sadly, I cannot verify this since I am known to dine at Red Lobster.

I can honestly say that this was the best fried shrimp I have ever had. The low-budget advertising got me in the door on kitsch value alone, but the shrimp will absolutely guarantee a return trip.

McNuggets Lovin': I have the best ideas special edition

About a year ago, my "songs about food to the tune of popular songs" career peaked with a little diddy about McDonald's Chicken McNuggets set to the tune of "I Can Tell" by the 504 Boyz (hear the NSFW original). Obviously, it was called "I Can Tell (U Want a Nug). I chopped and spliced the original song together to create an instrumental version over which my friend and I attempted to record lyrics after consuming some Smirnoff Source alcoholic water. A music video script was also written, but this never came to fruition.

What's the point of all this? At the time, we thought an R&B song and video about McNuggets was a clever idea without commercial merit, although I would have loved to see it through. Silly food advertising is a dream of mine if you haven't figured that out by now. Lo and behold, McDonald's just released a commercial to the exact same effect, thus sending one more of my dreams down the tubes.

Aside from the fact that I am beside myself now that I have realized that this ridiculous idea of mine was a home run, I am convinced that my song had a better message. The McDonald's song asks, "R U dippin' on me?" and is based around jealousy and greed. My song, on the other hand, is based around a young, dynamic couple with a shared passion for McNuggets. Take a look:

"I Can Tell (U Want a Nug)" - Copyright 2007 Nathan Rogers

CHORUS:
You ain't gotta say too much
From the look in your eyes
I can tell you want a nug

And you ain't gotta force-feed me food
Just as bad as you want a nug
I want a nug too

No, No, No you ain't gotta say too much
From the look in your eyes
I can tell you want a nug

And you ain't gotta force-feed me food
Just as bad as you want a nug
I want a nug too

VERSE 1:
Now you ain't gotta say much cuz I was eatin’, boo
Lookin at yo’ lips got me thinkin’ ‘bout how many nugs to order to go
You heard about McDonald’s combos?
We get up in there and order more than a thrillion truckloads
When it comes to barbecue sauce I am the boss
Order me a salad that’s tossed
I heard you ate that meal
I see nuggets in yo’ grill
Can you drive me in your blue Ford Focus
So I can make nugs disappear like hocus pocus?
I got no oven so I cannot cook my food
Make it fast and tastin’ good
Get a couple of yum yums
Shove it in your mouth ‘cause it’s a nug
And uh, hit me on my pager if you want ‘em
Its nugget passion
So get up on it if you want ‘em yum, yum!!!!

CHORUS

VERSE 2:
Pile ‘em on the counter in the kitchen now baby
Sausage biscuit is a day dream
Drippin’ with syrup fa sho, chewing it over
Large fries’ll be the next thing
I wanna eat them nuggets all night long
From sun up to sun down and even in Hong Kong

CHORUS

VERSE 3:
Can I light a candle
And eat nugs on a table where the light won’t show?
I'll take my time and eat ‘em slow
I'll do my own exercises
Part of a healthy diet
It's so very pleasurable
I'll eat salads, you won’t though
That’s OK, yo
Now I wanna eat some more

CHORUS

So, there you have it. Another advertising gem that never saw the light of day. If an Of Montreal song about Outback Steakhouse can captivate viewers, maybe it's time to brush the dust off my song about KFC Famous Bowls set to the tune of "Age of Consent" by New Order.

Don't worry, I ate a 10-piece McNuggets meal after I wrote the first draft of this. You know, for consistency's sake.

Fried Mung Beans: Colleague's Cookin' Special Edition

When my coworker Russ inquired about the possibility of writing a piece about fried mung beans for Nate's Plate, I didn't hesitate to say yes. I pictured a pan on his stove with steaming off-white refried beans bubbling away, stinking up his house. Boy was I wrong. Fried mung beans are actually hard (I guess they're just fried once) and dark green-brown in color.

I had the privilege of sampling Russ's Famous Fried Mung Beans before his review was completed, so I decided I'd write my own. I was drafting a corporate spam e-missive and an email from Russ appeared in my inbox: "Mung beans are at my desk. Drop by and sample the goodness." It was an offer I couldn't refuse.

I walked across the office and there were the little guys on his desk, hanging out in a jar of Mrs. Renfro's "Smoky" Roasted Salsa. The beans weren't the fried mess I expected at all. They were hard and looked rather insect-like. The ones without their shells looked like Honey Smacks cereal. Most importantly, FRIED MUNG BEANS ARE DAMN GOOD.

Fried mung beans are not a side dish for a meal, as I had expected. They're a salty, crunchy, kinda-burnt-tasting treat. They're a wholly addictive snack that leaves the slightest amount of oily residue in your palm.

The fact they they were stored in an old salsa jar only made them better. It added some southwest pizzaz that delicately flirted with my taste buds. When removed from the jar, the beans smell rather neutral, which is good since Russ reported that they stink terribly when being prepared.

As the jar emptied, I already found myself hoping that there are more fried mung beans on their way to the office. I'd buy a bag of these at the party store, and that's high praise. I suppose I could do that, since Beer Nuts already exist.

And don't take it from me. Take it from Eric, a.k.a. Pep-Pep. After sampling some fried mung beans, this is what he said:
"Holy crap those are good ... Those are REALLY good ... Those are one of the best snacks I've ever had."

The people have spoken. Fry on, Russ!

Cabo Chips: All natural gourmet corn tortilla chips -- "Taste the experience"

A bag of Cabo Chips tortilla chips ended up in the "Awesometeria," the community dining area that my nearby coworkers constructed. I overheard them saying things about "lemon juice" and "sea salt." After taking one bite of a Cabo Chip, I discovered that they were clearly talking about some sort of other food product -- one that didn't lack any hint of flavor whatsoever.

Normally, a review of tortilla chips that taste like overcooked fryer remnants would end after the 78th character of this very sentence. However, the creators of Cabo Chips think they are so great that they've written a 167-word essay that I have chosen to dissect.

"The crunchy legacy of Cabo Chips
Twenty years ago, the zesty imagination of three brothers[1] produced the idea of a snack that would change the chip world forever. Inspired by their unwavering loyalty to Cabo San Lucas and its warm sunny weather, they created the Cabo Chip -- the best corn tortilla chip you will find on either side of the border. Cabo Chips are light[2], rich in flavor[3], and the perfect complement to any dip[4].

A superior chip arrives
Cabo Chips began[5] April Fools Day[6] 2004 in a small factory[7] in Cabo San Lucas, but only a few months later, demand for the Cabo Chip was so great that we[8] had to begin production north of the border as well!

Cabo Chips are made with the highest quality ingredients, including 100% Non-GMO white corn and expeller[9] pressed oils. A unique cooking process[10] and quality ingredients result in an all natural chip with no trans-fat -- lower in fat and sodium than many leading chip brands.

Enjoy![11]"

[1] It's apparent that this phrase reads accurately: The brothers have one imagination between the three of them.
[2] A scan of the the "datos de nutrición" implies that this statement is surprisingly accurate.
[3] Wrong! The flavor is very subdued and most closely resembles overdone chips from the bottom of the fryer. Their deeper-than-normal brown tint reflects this as well.
[4] These chips are the perfect complement to any dip because they'd need an imperial gallon of guacamole to enhance their edibility.
[5] Began what?
[6] No surprise there. Maybe instead of "Taste the experience" their slogan should be "An April Fool's prank in every bag"!
[7] The back of a discerning Mexican restaurant that discarded its overcooked chips instead of feeding them to patrons.
[8] We, as in the three brothers who know not of parallel construction in writing.
[9] Something that every consumer is familiar with and has in the kitchen.
[10] Leaving them in the deep fryer for three days.
[11] No can do.

Back up to essay.

In case you're curious, satisfaction is NOT guaranteed anywhere on the bag.

The Back to Basics Egg ‘N Muffin Toaster: A guest column

Once upon a time during a scooter rally, I drunkenly walked my Vespa to my friends Amber and Other Nate’s house after the bar closed. I am normally one to retire early, but I was chasing a girl with the same destination so I felt that I could forego sleep for a bit. Regardless, I surely needed something to eat, as I always do after the bar, and Amber did not disappoint. She immediately fired up THE EGGWAVE – a magical device I had been hearing about for some time – and began dispensing delicious breakfast sandwiches to all of her guests at 3am. I could introduce all of the benefits of such a machine, but Amber (who runs http://skinnydudes.blogspot.com/, which features ME this week) covers all of them.

Would you trust this woman?


I sure hope not. She puts her dog in the mailbox for Christ’s sake. This blue eyed, dog abusing gal does have one thing right, though. She is Paula Deen of the Food Network and she’s latched on to quite possibly mankind’s greatest invention: The Back to Basics Egg ‘N Muffin Toaster.

First, The Back to Basics Egg ‘N Muffin Toaster has a horrible name. That shit is way too long. TBTBENMT is not a handy abbreviation. Inspired by this David Cross comedy bit my co-workers and I have dubbed this machine THE EGGWAVE and its delicious output is known as AN EGGWAVE. This is not to be confused with the established yet inferior product going by the same name. Stay with me here people, or I’ll sick Paula Deen on you.


If The Eggwave had been around when I was in college, there is a pretty good chance that I would have never graduated…or at least never graduated weighing less than 250lbs. I would have sat in my dorm room, quietly eating Eggwaves all day long. I would have been fat, but sweet Jesus, I would have been happy. Every college student must have an Eggwave. Actually, every person in the world must have an Eggwave. Jot that down on your Christmas list.

The Eggwave is also a completely unnecessary invention. One could easily make an egg sandwich without the aid of this contraption. However, the experience would not rule nearly as much as putting all of your fixins in one fancy robot, hitting a button, and commencing the twiddling of the thumbs for approximately 3 minutes while your most delectable breakfast sandwich cooks. You see, The Eggwave has some highly advanced technology going on inside of its robot body. It works very hard to ensure that all of your sandwich components are done at the SAME TIME. You can stop sweating bullets as you scramble to push the toaster button down at the precise moment while you’re cooking your egg, trying to time it so the egg is done at the same time as the toast, but always ALWAYS failing. The Eggwave knows your pain. It has thought about that shit already & has moved on to solving the current economic crisis. So no worries man, you are guaranteed to have the most enjoyable breakfast experience of your life – no effort required.

But maybe you don’t want an Eggwave for breakfast. Maybe you’re a fool and you think you’re too good for an incredibly delicious & personally perfected sandwich to kick-start your day. Well, I can almost guarantee that at 3am after you stumble and / or drunken drive home from the bar, an Eggwave is going to be the most delicious thing that you sink your teeth into. Never again will you be a victim to the tyranny of McDonalds and their fascist “No Breakfast after 10:30am” rules. An egg McMuffin – anytime you want it – only better than McDonalds because you can make it with REAL FOOD – not processed food product.

Here are my top 5 Eggwave fixins – in order of deliciousness.

1. Bacon – obviously. Bacon rules. The Eggwave will not cook raw bacon or any other raw meats. The Eggwave is not magic. The Eggwave will, however, heat up any pre-cooked meats you put it its compartment. You can take 2 full sized pieces of bacon – break that shit up into 4 pieces, and count down the minutes until those 4 pieces and their egg, muffin & cheese friends are in your trap.
   
2. Swat Sauce from the Fly Trap in Ferndale – hot sauce is a requirement for my Eggwaves. The best I’ve found is from a wonderful diner in Fabulous Ferndale. Swat Sauce from the Fly Trap may have magic as one of their top ingredients. It is that good. Of course, you also need to pepper your Eggwave if you want it to be at its most delicious.
   
3. Croissants – Usually, I stick to the standard English Muffin (of which, I have to say that Bays is my favorite brand, followed by Pepperidge Farm 100% Whole Wheat English Muffins). But when I really want to reward myself I get a giant Croissant from Costco, set The Eggwave on the lowest toast setting (very important – for English muffins I crank it all the way up) and brace myself for the flaky, buttery goodness that I am about to experience. It’s my way of telling myself “Hey, way to not kick that homeless guy on the way to work today. You deserve something special”.
   
4. Morning Star Veggie Sausage – As disgusting as this is, I kind of love McDonalds sausage patties. It’s the only thing I kind of miss about not ever going to McDonald’s breakfast anymore. There’s something about the mystery spices in their meat product that I have yet to find in any frozen sausage I’ve tried. So until I rob a McDonalds at gunpoint and declare that "all of their sausage are belong to me," I’m sticking to Morning Star Veggie Sausage Patties as my “meat” of choice. The only problem with this is that the sausage does not cover the span of the egg sandwich. They cover more height than they do surface area – however, this problem is solved within a few chomps. The sausage smashes down, shifts, and never disappoints.
   
5. Provolone Cheese – I’ve tried several different cheeses, and provolone is pretty much the best. Always. On everything.
   

I could seriously go on. I dream of Eggwaves in my sleep. In my dreams, they have little wings and cartoon eyes. I jump on trampolines and bite them out of the sky. The Eggwave has made my life, and my dreams, better. Trust me. You want this kitchen gadget more than anything you’ve ever wanted in your life.

Ethnic Gourmet's Taste of Thai: Pad Thai with Tofu

While browsing the freezer department of my local high-end grocer for something new, a red box caught my eye: Ethnic Gourmet.

With a fantastic, absurd, mildly offensive name like Ethnic Gourmet, I had to try it. The specific item I chose was Ethnic Gourmet's Taste of Thai: Pad Thai with Tofu. And let me tell you something This is the best frozen meal I have ever consumed in my entire life.

• Taste? Perfect.


• Texture? Phenomenal.


• Aroma? Palette-moistening.

There's a subtle hint of spice that doesn't make your nose run like so many other spicy Thai dishes. The "mildly spiced" box descriptor is dead-on.

Ethnic Gourmet even makes your house smell good when you microwave it after your cat stinks up the joint by peeing everywhere. True story -- it happened last night (Well, the night before I wrote this a few weeks ago - Nate).

I actually discovered Ethnic Gourmet awhile ago and I have been known to enjoy the Taste of Thai three times per week. I just can't get sick of it.

The Holiday Market where I first discovered Ethnic Gourmet has since discontinued carrying the Pad Thai variety, an event which nearly gave me withdrawals. Luckily, I was forced to go to Meijer for a late-night cold medicine run last week and I discovered a stash of this Asian treat in the bottom of a freezer cabinet. I bought all but one of the $4.99 boxes of dreams -- I had to share the joy after all.

If you are lazy, an office worker, or you love deliciousness, you must try Ethnic Gourmet's Taste of Thai: Pad Thai with Tofu immediately, if not sooner. I give it a 110% rating.

A new personal best shrimp consumption record: A micro update

I have repressed my shrimp-induced stupor long enough to report that I have returned from Red Lobster's Endless Shrimp event after consuming 93 shrimp, two glasses of Riesling, a tossed salad and two Cheddar Bay biscuits. I will have someone report which hospital you can visit me in when the inevitable happens.