$7.99 Ikea ribs dinner combo

Surprisingly normal.



For dessert, I suggest that you ...

Pacific Shrimp Tacos

Dear Taco Bell,

I got the message. You really didn't have to call me out on national television, but I see how it is. I'll gladly respond to your invitation to eat and then blog the Pacific Shrimp Taco.



I assume you modeled your commercial after my life because you heard about the time I ate 93 shrimp. But, if you're going to spend all that money making a TV commercial can you at least put out a quality product? I wouldn't eat a pacific shrimp taco for $1.19, let alone $2.79! In fact, tonight's dinner consisted of two Pacific Shrimp Tacos and Two Volcano Tacos. The total price of $8.44 was the most I have ever spent on myself at Taco Bell in my life.

If you had played your cards right, this dinner combo could have been known as the Nate's Plate special until the end of days, but no.

You had to wrap the Mexican-seasoned shrimp in a soft shell. And you had to slather it in a tangy white sauce. Cheap seafood and mystery dairy products together?! I can't believe I drove all the way to the ATM just to get money for such a travesty.



I'll give you this, though: When I unwrapped the first Pacific Shrimp Taco, I did catch a whiff of "real" food ... something like Rio Wraps. And when my finger touched some of the orange sauce, it was delightfully spicy.

Captain's orders: If you must try the Pacific Shrimp Taco, pass on the sun-ripened mayo, and be sure to treat yourself to an XL Baja Blast. Otherwise, you can keep this one to yourself.

Grip & Sip. Slow Your Roll. Extreme Relaxation: A guest column

Here's a guest column by Travis, the man who brought us the mystery sandwich.

This is a food blog, so I’m not going to waste your time ranting about the social and cultural consequences of glamorizing the recreational use of cough syrup. There are plenty of articles that do just that and I couldn’t care less if Lil’ Wayne openly drinks codeine. Provided he never tries to make another rock album, he can do whatever he wants (love you, Weezy).

Drank and Sippin Syrup are two relatively new products marketed as ‘the anti-Red Bull,’ a drink to calm and relax an increasingly stressed-out public. Suffering from a bit of anxiety myself, I was excited to find that 7-Eleven stores started carrying Drank. I bought a can on a particularly hungover Sunday morning a couple of months ago. The cashier warned me not to ‘drive on that stuff,’ but a visit to the parents was in order. My initial thought was that the taste was not unlike a light grape soda mixed with a little potpourri. Surprisingly good, actually.



I finished the can in a few minutes, not really considering the possible effects. By the time I arrived at the ‘rents I was overcome by a buzz similar to that of a waning weed high. I stared at the refrigerator at length before realizing the bottle of water I was looking for was right in front of me. I took a three-hour nap. The can promised 'extreme relaxation,' but I might refer to the effect as 'mild anesthesia.'

I’ve had Drank a few times since then. If you’re feeling stressed or looking for a good night’s sleep, it’s a nice occasional treat. I wouldn’t suggest drinking it every night, however, as one of its main ingredients is the same stuff your brain uses to tell your body when it’s nighttime. Probably don’t want to mess around with that too much.

In the other corner we have Sippin Syrup, a ‘beverage’ created in the same vein as Drank—same color, same philosophy, same inextricable link to cough syrup and southern rap. However, the discrepancy in quality between the two products is evident from the second you uncap the Syrup. I was blown away by the stench of bum wine as a good friend pleaded with me not to drink it. ‘IN THE NAME OF SCIENCE,’ I insisted. The night is a bit of a blur after that.



As I write this, a half-empty bottle sits on the table next to me, topped off with vague memories of headache and restlessness. Sippin Syrup tasted exactly how it smelled and it was only consumable small sips. It was more viscous than Drank. It didn’t make me any calmer and I’m pretty sure I forgot how to work the TV at some point.

I was given fair warning and ignored it. ‘Don’t drink that, it has to be full of arsenic. I want to vomit just thinking about it.’ Don’t repeat my mistake. If you want to experiment with these so-called relaxation beverages, make it Drank. Better yet, crush up a couple Benadryl in a glass of grape soda and achieve the same effect.

The Coffee Fairy

Here's a special write-up by request of my coworker, and fellow Team Coffee member, Teresa N.

My first memories of coffee were of my dad making us all sit around at our table at the Olympic Coney Island restaurant, plates empty and napkins crumpled, while he finished sipping his coffee. I would always be annoyed and try to hurry him along.

After that, high school. The only place to hang out was the Coffee Bean and we'd sit there drinking off-white coffee filled with sugar for hours, then somehow manage to sleep like a rock that night.

Nowadays, when I'm at a greasy spoon I always have to order a cup of coffee, if only for tradition -- I get it now, dad! Day-to-day, my morning routine always includes my French press and a super-strong brew. It's more like having a mug of espresso than coffee, which is probably why I can never finish a cup before my drive to the office ends.

So, where do I get my beans?

The Coffee Fairy. He chooses only the finest beans that aren't available in your city and tends to deal with Intelligentsia.

Here he is now!



He lives in LA and occasionally appears in your local office with a bag of beans. If he is feeling especially inspired, he appears at your desk when you least expect it, holding a French press full of fresh brew.

This leads me to believe that he actually managed to smuggle a coffee grinder and French press onto an airplane. And when I say "leads me to believe," I mean this is probably not true but it is what I want to believe.

So how does one get a visit from the Coffee Fairy? Well, just like the Tooth Fairy brings you money after you lose a tooth, the Coffee Fairy brings you delicious freshly roasted whole beans when you lose access to deliciousness ... and after you've promised to buy a coffee grinder and French press.

Popcorn plus yeast = not so bad

The now-famous Russ recently invited a few of us at the office to enjoy some popcorn topped with brewer's yeast. As someone who brews beer, I was anticipating a wholly gross experience, but yeast on popcorn actually tasted quite natural and oddly familiar.

In this video segment of Nate's Plate, you'll see me, Russ, Bridgette and camera-woman Jordan.

Skeezy celebs slingin' salads

If you've met me, you know I am all for ridiculous advertising. However, I find myself questioning the new Carl's Jr. ad promoting salads by way of Kim Kardashian. It's not that I am not proud of the folks who pulled this off, because I truly am and would love to have clients that let me get away with something like this. It's because, to me, the ad doesn't really embrace ridiculousness enough. Maybe it's because I have not been keeping up with Ms. Kardashian. Or maybe it's because I feel like no one who has seen me eat a salad would ever want to have sex with me. What do you think?

Russ has amazing lunches

What better way to return to Nate's Plate than by letting my friend Jordan do my work for me? I cannot escape Jordan. I met her while "interning" at Found Magazine. Then, she got a job across the street from the coffee shop I was known to frequent. Now, she works at the same fancy advertising agency as me. This means she also works with Russ, the man who brought us fried mung beans and sunberries. This makes Russ the most-featured man in Nate's Plate history. Jordan actually sits next to Russ and has noticed something about his lunches: They are amazing.

Dear Nate’s Plate readers,

I would like to tell you about Russ. He sits next to me and his lunches are amazing.

Sometimes I bring a sandwich. I feel rather proud of myself, because I made it. I put the condiment on the bread and it has at least two elements to it (a meat and a cheese). Sometimes, if it’s a ham sandwich, I will mix mayonnaise and Honeycup mustard. Then I feel like I am the greatest.

But this kind of satisfaction would never be enough for Russ, whose lunches come in at least three different containers. I asked him if he ever just eats a sandwich.

“On rare occasion, yeah,” he said. “Not often, though … I’m a huge fan of Zingerman’s sandwiches and that sort of stuff, but it’s hard to recreate that at home.”

Well la dee dah.

He claims that it’s because his dad bought some too-skinny bread when he was a kid and his sandwiches were always falling apart, but I don’t buy it.

I think that he just likes to rub it in my face that he gets to eat lunches like this one:


This lunch consists of homemade latkes, a delicious-looking homemade cookie bar of some sort, and a bean concoction that smells like a warm haven from the doldrums of winter.

This is my lunch:


This lunch consists of Meijer generic goldfish-like crackers, sugar-free hot chocolate, and lip gloss. And that isn’t even the original hot chocolate; I reconstituted the dregs on the bottom by adding more hot water.

Look at him, sitting at his desk by the window, smugly enjoying his satisfying bean concoction (that was quite possibly cooked by his wife, who does yoga but is not a vegetarian (update 06/2010: she IS). GOD, is there anything in Russ’s life that isn’t perfect?):