tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13841849340940372942024-02-18T21:03:24.561-08:00The Food Guy WritesFood Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949035088915165613noreply@blogger.comBlogger28125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1384184934094037294.post-91128902672869175462010-08-23T14:12:00.000-07:002010-08-23T14:36:04.484-07:00Recipes? I don't need no stinking recipes!<p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">When I started cooking, I tried following recipes with mixed results. I can be sorta literal, so if a recipe said to cut a potato into 1/2" dice, I'd spend all day making sure each and every cube was the right size. Other times, there'd be a term I wasn't sure of (saute? Is that like fry?), or a cooking vessel that I didn't have (what the heck is </span></span><a href="http://www.ehow.com/how_4558361_use-saucier.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#3366FF;">a saucier pot</span></span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">?).<br /></span></span><span style="font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhczki3pqKwv1p602ObmrqFGMOKPOg-g6m41WlltepTy_ObAUd0MnkpnUAJM7wD-zsjiASFVouJFY7jg3g0nM3_6kreXjDpC4U2yI3yoYc7POl_aupo0a1XVIJO3INGdkWa1F_Aum7E5ow/s320/cookbook_stack.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508716737721592402" /><span style="font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Back then, I didn't know enough to just wing it. So I'd either get frustrated and not cook or I'd get frustrated and cook and hate it. Frustration is not my favorite emotion, but I knew somewhere inside me was a cook waiting to get out. I just didn't know how to free him.</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /><span style="font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; "></span><br /></span></span><span style="font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">So I started making packaged foods, like flavored<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#33CCFF;"> </span></span></span><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Lipton-Fiesta-Mexican-5-4-Ounce-Packages/dp/B000EXIMMG/ref=pd_sim_gro_3"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#3366FF;">rice and sauce combos</span></span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span><span style="font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">. And I'd add whatever was handy or sounded good. This usually meant ground beef, garlic, and corn went in every dish. And it led to experiments and discoveries that propelled me onward -- you’d be amazed at how many ways you can incorporate those three ingredients into anything!</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /><span style="font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; "></span><br /></span></span><span style="font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Flash forward 20 years, and my wife's grandfather wants to put together a family recipe book. I've been asked to submit 6 or 8 of my favorite recipes. It’s flattering that her family thinks I’m such a terrific cook, but there’s a problem...</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /><span style="font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; "></span><br /></span></span><span style="font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Recipes. </span></span></span></p><div><span style="font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> Four or five years ago, I actually wrote down some recipes for things I had been cooking a lot of, on the off chance I suffered a brain injury and couldn’t remember how to make one of my stand-bys. So in theory, I should have been all set. But since I wrote them down, I’ve hardly looked at them. And I’ve cooked many of them for the family.</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /><span style="font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; "></span></span></span><span style="font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">So who knows if what I cooked for the inlaws is at all like what I wrote on those cards five years ago?</span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> I’m going to include a disclaimer with my recipes, warning them that what they are about to make may not even remotely resemble the dish they remember me cooking for them. </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /><span style="font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; "></span><br /></span></span><span style="font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">And if they’re in doubt, they should just add ground beef, corn, and garlic. It worked for me!</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span><span style=" color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background- font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;font-family:Arial;font-size:11pt;color:transparent;"></span><br /><span style=" color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background- font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;font-family:Arial;font-size:11pt;color:transparent;"></span></div>Food Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949035088915165613noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1384184934094037294.post-59973193274733411562010-07-28T07:36:00.000-07:002010-07-29T08:07:24.292-07:00One step closer to Burger Nirvana<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Anybody who knows me knows how much I love hamburgers. And yes, I've complained on this blog before about about the absence of consistently <a href="http://foodguywrites.blogspot.com/2010/05/if-only-eugene-were-burgertown.html">excellent hamburgers in Eugene</a>. An <a href="http://bobgarlitz.com/">old college professor</a> of mine used to say "Consistency is the hobgoblin of small minds." Well, call my brain Tiny then, because I am desperate for a burger I can count on, time and time again.<div><br />One of my favorite restaurants is a little burger/sandwich/neighborhood joint called <a href="http://www.eugenecatering.com/" id="t8db" title="Cornucopia">Cornucopia</a>. I love them so much, they catered my wedding. The restaurant has a real friendly vibe, a great beer selection, the only hush puppies in town (that I know of). And despite the popular complaint whenever I mention that I love Corny, I even love the service. It might not be the fastest place to get dinner, but I've been there dozens and dozens (and dozens) of times and may have had iffy service once or twice. I think they do pretty well.</div><div><br />Now, when asked, I'll name Cornucopia's burgers as the best in town. I usually do so hesitantly, because while they're really tasty and are made of good quality beef, their competition is so lacking in this town that they only have to be pretty good to win the Best in Eugene title (as they do every year). I've had burgers there that were over-done. I've had them under-done. I've had them so-so, and I've had them really good.<br /><br />This weekend, I had one that reset my standard for what to expect in a Cornucopia burger.<br /><br /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpViOoo__sZbNYDXl_kUIFXGPHlbqrfoIqPwX5w-vUhpozuLDlpQiIPg7PAueH1npcaCfj914YzEO38toTyjoGQy9h1yM1w0kLwT-hvWXXb3eYql4Vg0aTMlddxVAHsTqWXWsCPArFGk8/s320/photo(2).JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498968419988479426" /><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">My Wild Bill burger, 7/24/10. I almost forgot to stop eating and snap a pic</span></div><br />This was not my first Wild Bill Burger. I've had the half pound patty with bacon, cheese, and BBQ sauce countless times before. But this one was incredible. Grilled to perfection, dripping with sauce, after the first bite I knew I had something special. One of the things I really like about Corny burgers is the char they get on the outside, though sometimes, as I've mentioned, the char goes to far. Not this time - the burger itself was moist and juicy and cooked to my ideal medium-well. And it had that perfect crust on the outside that a burger gets when it's spent the exact right amount of time on the grill.<br /><br />They always season their burgers really well at Cornucopia. But this weekend's burger was exceptional because while I tasted the seasoning and it was slathered in sauce, the predominant flavor was beefy goodness. Man that was a good burger.<br /><br />Much to my chagrin, FoodGuy Jr. does not like hamburgers. He's not yet 3, so I'm trying to stay positive that some day he'll outgrow this unfathomable aversion. In effort to help speed his growth along, every time I eat a hamburger, I offer him some. While eating this particular burger, however, I didn't. I love little FoodGuy more than anything, but I was't going to take the chance that he'd chose this burger to try. When he likes something, the boy can eat. To risky.<br /><br />So now I'm anxious to go back to Cornucopia. Mrs. FoodGuy will only go once a month or so. She really likes Corny too, but oddly doesn't seem to <b>need</b> hamburgers the way I do. She wasn't with FoodGuy Jr. and I this weekend, so there's hope I can get her there soon. And then we'll see if they can replicate my burger. If they can... if they can... It'll be the dawn of a new burger day in Eugene.</div></div>Food Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949035088915165613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1384184934094037294.post-56234020101755697582010-07-20T15:30:00.001-07:002010-07-20T15:55:05.551-07:00Maybe Someday Donuts Will Rule the World<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">It's no secret that cupcakes have been enjoying a renaissance over the last few years. Formerly a kids-only treat reserved for birthday parties, cupcakes became a trendy item to reinvent. All over the country, hip, fancy, gourmet cupcake shops started blooming, like cherry topped paper wrapped morsels of childhood memory. Where I live, gourmet cupcakes were Eugene-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">ified</span>: our</span><a href="http://www.divinecupcake.com/" id="e_-t" title="Divine Cupcakes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Divine Cupcakes</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> are organic and come in dairy free, wheat free, and vegan options. While I like a small cake as much as the next guy, I can't get fully behind this cupcake <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">mov</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">ement</span>. They're kinda prissy. A little <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">girly</span>. A little little-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">girly</span>, if you know what I mean.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-lcd1yDNU5shzzXocJGCZD3KMbRQswd4R9HteuwKt0jYYJ7b-vqT2Uqw04NiAHZJPNPabn6N7rfHUX4DJKJ9TwPUj5xA4aWjKdyIOkDzloc7nHL-aClyfrXIp4c6nY4TjbkIVfhs_oEw/s320/smallerdonuts.png" style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 314px; height: 320px; " border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496119639137077650" /><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">My dozen (or so) donuts from Voodoo Doughnuts</span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br />But I'm not here to talk about cupcakes today. I want to talk about doughnuts. Doughnuts come from the same sort of humble place as cupcakes, but are far far cooler. And now, </span><a href="http://www.thekitchn.com/thekitchn/cooking-discussion/trend-watch-are-doughnuts-the-new-cupcake-110908" id="cu.c" title="Donuts are poised to take over"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">doughnuts are poised to take over</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> where cupcakes will invariably leave off (any day now). And that will be a trend I can fully stand behind. And full I will be, because I've got one of the best doughnut supplies anyone can ask for, in <a href="http://voodoodoughnut.com/">Voodoo Doughnuts</a>.<br /><br />Voodoo is already leading the doughnut revolution with their crazy creations. They were a huge hit in their original home of Portland, Oregon, where hipsters lined up after the bars close for cereal covered doughnuts, bacon maple bars (with two or three pieces of real live bacon on top), and a doughnut called Cock-N-Balls that's shaped like, well... a cock and balls. And now they've come to Eugene.<br /><br />First was a soft opening, when you pretty much had to happen by at the exact right minute in hopes they were actually open. Then they had announced hours, which did not coincide with any of my free time. And now, finally, they're open 24 hours so I can run over there on a whim and get my fix.<br /><br />Now, about the doughnuts. I'm a cake doughnut guy, and I have to say their cake doughnuts were really good. I got a couple of basic chocolate ones, and the first thing that I noticed was they really tasted like chocolate. And the texture was soft and crumby, sort of like devil's food cake. Standing on their own, I'd call them high quality doughnuts. But what sets Voodoo Doughnuts apart are the aforementioned crazy flavors. I'm a huge fan of spicy chocolate in general, and the Mexican Chocolate doughnut did not disappoint. It's not often that I'm actually surprised by how spicy my dessert is. But it's a good thing when it happens. Delicious. My lips tingled and my mouth watered. Dipped in coffee it was doughnut perfection.<br /><br />The raised doughnuts were frankly pretty average, in terms of the actual fried dough. But again, the flavors are where it's at. The Grape Ape is a raised doughnut with vanilla frosting and grape "dust." Their frosting is far better than average to begin with, and I don't know what grape dust is (maybe <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Kool</span> Aid?), but I loved the combo. The maple frosting on the maple bacon bar was full of maple-y goodness. And the Raspberry Romeo's jelly doughnut had real jelly inside -- you could see the raspberry seeds!<br /><br />Honorable mention goes to the apple fritters, which were also really good. I didn't try one until they were a day old, and I skipped heating mine up (as my friends did - and they RAVED), so I might have missed the window on those. Some of the others I tried, like the Oreo Cookie one, were flashy, but not completely awesome.<br /><br /></span><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYYiZNmGt6qDjd5Md2IafqVerHLQ5ZwMSwTtb3P9peCM3bEsvLj2UQxwoIhpOyRTP-3M82dO-AzuR70rJA7EXHbpgeeXCMnJgmm1J319w_FAM-4HdL0kAdSLDAhkTVnMKrcxqBtNZL3Jc/s320/smallerdonutsbox.png" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496121078202909154" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Miami Vice Berry, Mexican Chocolate, Maple Bacon Bar</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br />They were all fun, though. And it was exciting to open that pink box and approach each doughnut as a brand new thing, never before tried. Worth traveling to Portland for? No. Worth waiting in line for 10 minutes for on a nice Saturday morning? You bet. Late night, post bar, slight buzz destination? Oh, for the days when that mattered to me... But yes, yes indeed.<br /><br /><br /></span><br /></div>Food Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949035088915165613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1384184934094037294.post-64504950753253583112010-07-02T15:15:00.000-07:002010-07-02T15:28:41.404-07:00Pastrami to Rival the East Coast's Best<div style="text-align: left;">As a Jew born in the Bronx and raised in New Jersey, I feel confident describing myself as an expert on quality pastrami. Now, pastrami differs from, say... bagels, in that inferior pastrami can still make a nice sandwich. Inferior bagels? They're just dinner rolls with holes and I won't eat them. So I've given up on bagels since moving away from New Jersey, but you'll occasionally find me noshing a pastrami sandwich. Usually with a disappointed look on my face.</div><br />Last weekend, the wife and I went to Portland, land of the cool, home of the hip. They should add Place of the Pastrami to what they tout as the city's claims to fame, because I had one (actually two) good sandwiches there.<br /><br /><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-zUnS_nmDZzgsEg9J_TbelerDNjNaA2x3jPuJkqzMkCAFvaXjUqAQgxiXzVuzKh5V1LDTAyOreRAbFfdU5bw5Jd0xQkxEetk-cFvzY_Ul6GQjLbliCKr5fFXANfQTCU_9vUxo5rTzp-s/s320/20100702_111.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489438859773709058" /><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">the actual sandwich in question</span></div><div><br /></div>This house brined and dried and seasoned to perfection sandwich at <a href="http://www.kennyandzukes.com/" id="nvm1" title="Kenny & Zuke's">Kenny & Zuke's</a> was the best I've had since I left home 20 years ago. It was sliced perfectly thick, so that it had bite and texture. Thin sliced pastrami is for weinies, if you ask me.<br /><br />And it was peppery and garlicky and clovey, but not so much that any one flavor overwhelmed the other, or the meat. My only complaint? Not enough meat on the sandwich. Maybe it's just in my memory that pastrami sandwiches are piled three or four inches high?<br /><br />Now, let's talk about their knish. If I closed my eyes and went by flavor alone, I would have thought I was eating a perfect specimen from my youth, done just slightly more upscale. The pastry on the outside was definitely better than a typical knish, flakier and butterier. But the potato was chunky, and while it was nice, it was jarring to my munch down knish-memory lane. But the real problem with it was aesthetic. See it up there, next to the sandwich? It's topless! Didn't look like any knish I'd ever seen before. It was darn good though, so my complaint is actually pretty petty.<br /><br />Kenny & Zuke's pickles were really good too, and their rye bread was better than most I've had on the West Coast. They even have the two name thing going -- when I was a kid every deli in the suburbs was a two-guy name: <a href="http://www.jerryandharveys.com/" id="qek1" title="Jerry and Harvey'">Jerry and Harvey'</a>s (our family's favorite), Jesse and Davids... okay, maybe there were just two.<br /><br />I love trying new restaurants, but the pastrami was so good at K & Z's that on our 24 hour trip to P-land, Mrs. Food Guy and I ate there twice. After our awesome lunch, I couldn't resist a breakfast sandwich of egg, pastrami, swiss cheese (hey, I didn't say it, or I, was kosher...) with a side of latkes. The latkes were tasty, though nothing to write home about.<br /><br />But the pastrami? The pastrami... Consider this a letter to New Jersey.<br /></div></div>Food Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949035088915165613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1384184934094037294.post-81525659727371756362010-06-21T15:52:00.002-07:002010-06-22T07:54:36.540-07:00Gluttony Strikes Again, or Sometimes Two Burgers are Better than One<div style="text-align: left;">Sometimes it's all about quantity. I hate to admit it, but it's true. I guess I can be a bit of a glutton.</div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8YHAZb7WzpLA9lAan1s85FfohSDpSyRZz-83-fnmVuv06pChyhyphenhyphenGhspLWOx4Vy137Mu2tJ0_8vi1iQxiaYe05U-LL73W2o1O2BnFK-9ykPNvUo2k191z-TsqEFU_z7pFYufIZAxQnqgU/s320/glutton.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 235px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485363780685019586" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">image from toonpool.com</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>There are times when I just want to eat the biggest hamburger I can find, and I almost don't care if it's great, just that it's LARGE.</div><div><br /></div><div>This weekend, for instance. The family and I went to a little place near our house. We'd been there a few weeks ago, and I hadn't been able to get the <a href="http://foodguywrites.blogspot.com/2010/05/club-sandwich-mouth-massacre.html">onion rings</a> out of my mind. Every time I'd drive by, my mouth watered. </div><div><br /></div><div>Now, this place isn't even really a restaurant. It's a independent bottle mart/convenience store with a grill and some tables. So I was wary of the hamburgers, which in places like this tend to be tiny little frozen patties. When I spotted a double bacon burger on the menu, I decided to take a chance. It might not be a great burger, but there will be a lot of it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Turns out, the burgers were not tiny at all. And they wern't frozen either. </div><div><br /></div><div>They were hand made. Beefy. Juicy. Darn good, I'd say. </div><div><br /></div><div>And kinda big. </div><div><br /></div><div>Confronted with this unexpected plethora of meat, I had two choices. Eat until I was full and then put the burger down. Or devour the whole thing, knowing that I'd regret it. </div><div> </div><div><br /></div><div>Which do you think I did? </div><div><br /></div><div>Yup. Devour. And I when breakfast rolled around the next morning, I was still too full to eat. </div><div><br /></div><div>So I just had a donut.</div>Food Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949035088915165613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1384184934094037294.post-80002005469219856232010-06-08T15:37:00.000-07:002010-06-08T15:54:10.939-07:00Thumbs Up Burger, Thumbs Down Fries<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I had a really good hamburger yesterday, at a </span></span><a href="http://www.ourdailybreadrestaurant.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">bakery/restaurant that used to be a church</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">. It was a Cajun burger, with three big strips of bacon and two slices of nicely melted Swiss. The bun was firm, toasted just enough to add crunch but not crumble, and the burger itself was juicy and flavorful with the perfect texture. It was thick and oddly formed, which I liked. Everything about it said homemade with care.</span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br />But then I ate the fries.<br /></span></span><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTDiAO5vaT0es1o0cf7_ExFpsHGTivGojkAfK547srt30iYYEQjfpPe4sdJV4TZQfIN0SlBP2lGXzq52j0qk_J26u4tR_G4BkyuiRWtYbmn9fBF9V-v6Q6reWvcuckU7HKdW7QTWl863c/s320/fries.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 146px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480536446594416098" /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">Not the actual fries</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br />If I wasn't in a former church, I would have said:<br /><br />"Jesus Christ people, what's with the fries??"<br /><br />I can't say I have much experience being in churches, but I'm pretty sure they don't like you taking their lords name in vain while you're in one. So I kept my mouth shut.<br /><br />In my head, I swore like a sailor. A sailor who knows if you can make a good burger, you can make good fries.<br /><br />Admittedly, steak fries aren't my favorite. I prefer a thinner fry, but I believe in variety being the spice of yadda yadda yadda and all that. I can embrace a thick fry when it's done well.<br /><br />These were not done well. I'm pretty sure they were mass produced, probably purchased in a 50 pound bag marked Garden Variety Steak Fry.<br /><br />I just don't get why anybody would go out of their way to make such a good, such a really really good burger, and then disrespect it by putting it on a plate with subpar fries.<br /><br />It's just not right. It's insulting to the burger.<br /><br />As luck would have it, Mrs. FoodGuy got a side of 1,000 Island dressing with her lunch, and it was so good it made up for the fries (when said fries were dipped in it, that is). Homemade burger, homemade 1,000, frozen fries?<br /><br />Didn't make much sense to me, but then again, I was just a Jew eating a bacon burger in a church...</span></span></div>Food Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949035088915165613noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1384184934094037294.post-8819896782073935532010-05-25T14:26:00.000-07:002010-05-26T12:27:00.166-07:00Turkey, The Other Other White Meat<span style="font-size:85%;">I love turkey.<br /><br /></span><div><span style="font-size:85%;">So what, you say? You're going to write a blog post about that, FoodGuy? I can't get to my back button quick enough...</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"><br />Hang on there, friend. What I'm about to say next will shock you.<br /><br />I love turkey more than beef!<br /><br />I heard you gasp. Admit it. You're shocked! FoodGuy, who's on a lifelong quest for the perfect hamburger likes turkey more than beef? It hardly seems possible.<br /><br />Sorry, but it's true.<br /><br />I'm talking turkey breast here, too, which most people think is dry and tasteless. Just like me!<br /><br />I disagree. About the common misconception about turkey, that is. We're not talking about me here...<br /><br />Now, when hankering for a hamburger, it's doubtful that a turkey burger will do. But when you've got turkey and a barbecue and the right fixings? Well, a turkey burger is a beautiful thing. (Secret ingredient for a killer turkey burger: frozen spinach thawed, drained, and mixed into the meat. Trust me!)<br /><br />Aside from burgers though, turkey rules in just about every way.<br /></span><ul><li><span style="font-size:85%;">It's better for you (not that that's always a consideration)</span></li><li><span style="font-size:85%;">It goes well with everything</span></li><li><span style="font-size:85%;">It's tasty, but it's flavor doesn't overwhelm everything else on your plate</span></li><li><span style="font-size:85%;">It's underrated (I've always been a champion of the underdog. See my future post about garbanzo beans).</span></li><li><span style="font-size:85%;">It's crazy versatile: roasted whole bird, breast fillets, ground like beef, pot-pied, boiled and made into soup, sliced thin for sandwiches...</span></li></ul>I know, most of that can be said for beef too. But shut up about beef already, I'm talking about TURKEY.</div>Food Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949035088915165613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1384184934094037294.post-28843262341556031232010-05-24T15:28:00.000-07:002010-05-24T15:39:09.763-07:00The Club Sandwich Mouth Massacre<div align="center"><a href="http://mikeeatsdetroit.wordpress.com/2009/04/08/congratulations-to-the-club-sandwich/"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 242px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474969193052245378" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqLxqfokqJlWMxdQoWrIEFLyXbZtqSIP1rBwMN1mcAT8b8hyjJeA8HEnST_T81RF4NHtkj07ONRUIwb3lox5fKvs-1DVSQVAe-O23Zq-rSb6AisdkNV-s0B2uqFLtOdzW8pqbsUIledYo/s320/club-sandwich.jpg" /><span style="font-size:78%;">photo by Mike Eats Detroit</span> </a></div><br /><div align="center"><br /></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="FONT-STYLE: normal">A club sandwich is a simple thing. Simple ingredients, simply prepared. But so dastardly and destructive, it should come with a warning sign.<br /><br />Though truth be told, a big, bold print warning wouldn't keep me from eating a club sandwich when the mood strikes.<br /><br /></div></span><div align="left"><span style="FONT-STYLE: normal">Even though I know what comes next. The Mouth Massacre.<br /><br />Yes, much like my beloved patty melt (maybe I have a thing for food that hurts me, but more on that in another post), club sandwiches leave my mouth feeling like the Incredible Hulk's purple pants. Shredded.<br /><br />I had a surprising good club sandwich this weekend. With a really surprisingly good order of onion rings to go along with it. Hm... I was going to write that despite the tastiness of that meal it wasn't worth the pain that's only recently subsided.<br /><br />But I can't write that. Because recreating the meal in my mind just now has got my newly-healed mouth watering.<br /><br />Screw it. Forget this whole post. Club sandwiches rule, bits of flesh dangling from the roof of my mouth be damned! </span></div><div align="left"><span style="FONT-STYLE: normal"><br />It won't be the last time I suffer for food.<br /><br /></div></span>Food Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949035088915165613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1384184934094037294.post-64865849019312047042010-05-21T14:50:00.000-07:002010-05-21T15:12:38.094-07:00If Only Eugene Were Burgertown<a href="http://maps.google.com/maps/place?um=1&gl=us&resnum=1&hl=en&ie=UTF-8&q=eugene+oregon&fb=1&gl=us&ftid=0x54c119b0ac501919:0x57ec61894a43894d&ei=eQT3S7XQHIiUMYDanJkF&sa=X&oi=geocode_result&ct=title&resnum=1&ved=0CCcQ8gEwAA">Eugene, Oregon</a> has a lot of burger joints. A LOT. But despite my last post about hamburgers, I've yet to find a place that has consistently wowed me with their burger prowess. A one-off awesome burger is nothing to sneeze at, mind you. But if it can't be counted on, it just sets you up for disappointment.<br /><br />Expecting excellence and getting mediocrity is worse than expecting mediocrity and getting it.<br /><br />The newest player on the local burger scene is <a href="http://www.djburgers.com/">Dickie Jo's</a>. Owned by a family that has done well for itself by offering quality local fast-ish food, this place is high on concept, but the burgers are only pretty good. Not awesome. Not terrific. Just okay. I had higher hopes.<br /><br />I have been hankering for a special hamburger. One with a handful of french fries piled on top. With a spoonful of spaghetti sauce lovingly poured atop that. And finished with a slice of mozzarella (or even provolone). Melted and gooey. Mmmm... now THAT would be a burger to photograph. Might even be a burger to cuddle with.<br /><br />I shall call it the CuddleBurger.<br />(not to be confused with <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cuttlefish">Cuttlefish burger</a>. Please!)Food Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949035088915165613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1384184934094037294.post-75286702506878056172009-02-24T11:52:00.000-08:002010-05-21T15:38:28.800-07:00Burger QuestI'm on a lifelong hamburger odyssey. I don't expect to one day find the perfect burger and then only eat that burger for the rest of my days. But I do feel compelled to try every hamburger possible, in the hopes of finding one that comes close to perfection.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>This weekend, Mrs. FoodGuy and I had a FoodGuy Jr.-less date and went to Davis' Restaurant in downtown Eugene. I really like Davis', though their menu changes so often it's hard to predict what there might be to eat. In any event, it had been over a week since I'd had a hamburger, so despite my love for their Wild Mushroom Pot Pie (which used to come in a puff pastry shell that was SO GOOD and now comes in an only okay herbed pie crust...), I went with the burger.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8NZFUG90S2xQ6YELChtxxUkDAcVJCVBmrfJ15AR56_b0aDcGxWicXTVlgTd-ahyphenhyphenpB7V_MU_Ms5geSpKpUqC5c4sbRztUohHqjTJ5Z7bhmdfFOFFcYnkYu6WkN2q0HGhEP1PRq-UDuSzA/s1600-h/burger2.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8NZFUG90S2xQ6YELChtxxUkDAcVJCVBmrfJ15AR56_b0aDcGxWicXTVlgTd-ahyphenhyphenpB7V_MU_Ms5geSpKpUqC5c4sbRztUohHqjTJ5Z7bhmdfFOFFcYnkYu6WkN2q0HGhEP1PRq-UDuSzA/s200/burger2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306454701547981570" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">Though I wish I had photographic evidence, this is not the actual Davis burger.</span><br /><br /></div>Now, sometimes I'm a little embarassed to order a hamburger in a place with cloth napkins. But I don't let that stand in my way. When a man needs a hamburger, he needs a hamburger!<br /><br />On this night, I needed a hamburger. And rather than loading up on toppings, I decided to simplify. All that adorned my burger was swiss cheese and crunchy fried onions.<br /><br />And it was good. Really Good. Really Really Good, as in, oh my god, this might be the one Good! It was like somebody had injected the burger with extra "ideal hamburger" flavor. It was beefy. It was cooked perfectly. The bun had a little texture to it, rather than being a mushy meat-handle. And I think the simple toppings let the overall deliciousness really shine through.<br /><br />I had to offer a bite to Mrs. FG, though I didn't want to part with a morsel of it. Now, she's not the burger expert that I am, but she said it was the best burger she ever had. I hesitate to make such proclamtions, but if that wasn't the best burger, I'd have to put it in the Top 10. I'll need to eat at least two more Davis burgers to make sure it wasn't a fluke before I can say Top 5 (look for my post on my Top 5 burgers soon...)Food Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949035088915165613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1384184934094037294.post-91399513219561407892009-02-10T15:18:00.000-08:002009-02-10T15:32:34.331-08:00Bake Off<span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: verdana;">Subtitle: Second Place is the First Loser</span><br /><br />At work last week, my company hosted its annual Bake/Cook-Off. Since there was still a week left in my annual sugar ban (see post <a href="http://foodguywrites.blogspot.com/2009/01/going-hardcore.html">Going Hardcore</a>), I was going to cook something good for you, like my low fat <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Chipotle</span> Chicken Salad (which is so good you would never guess it's low fat!). For presentation, I was even going to stuff the chicken salad into cherry tomatoes (time consuming, but worth it 'cause they look so fancy!). But then Mrs. Food Guy convinced me to make my Not Just Chocolate Chip Cookies.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSzkwWz-hE8IQGso5nfb9C0h_pzuOTXuKbRgYQvaEEnOQWomWQ_ljRKEt-2zgG7azhESskB1RqruX7O94B3exR5QMt1WnkZfZmtEcZVHt_6cfbXhIyRNl72y35B3k_Yl4xXQmxf2h-xhg/s1600-h/my+cookie.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSzkwWz-hE8IQGso5nfb9C0h_pzuOTXuKbRgYQvaEEnOQWomWQ_ljRKEt-2zgG7azhESskB1RqruX7O94B3exR5QMt1WnkZfZmtEcZVHt_6cfbXhIyRNl72y35B3k_Yl4xXQmxf2h-xhg/s200/my+cookie.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301313323262060130" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">A partially eaten example of said cookie.<br /><br /></span></div>Now, I was hesitant. When Mrs. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">FG</span> was pregnant with Food Guy Jr., I made batch after batch of these cookies, tweaking the recipe each time until I perfected them. The last time I made them was August of 2007, and we both remember that batch as the best cookies ever. So great idea, Mrs. Food Guy.<br /><br />Except for one thing...<br /><br />I never wrote down my recipe.<br /><br />I knew the base cookie recipe I used, but all my tweaks were lost to the last year and a half of new parenthood. So already my confidence in the recipe was low. Feeling <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">thusly</span>, I started baking.<br /><br />Then I realized I couldn't possibly bring cookies to a contest and not taste them. But I couldn't taste them, because it was Hardcore time! What to do?<br /><br />So I caved. For the first time in the four years Mrs. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">FG</span> and I have been Going Hardcore, I cheated and ate a cookie. Okay, two cookies. Okay okay, two baked cookies and at least one full cookies-worth of raw dough. And to be honest, they weren't even as good as I remembered.<br /><br />I felt bad the next day to have cheated, I felt weak. My confidence now lower than before, I schlepped my plate of cookies to work, sure I was going to <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">embarrass</span> myself with my crappy cookies. Me, the baker who left the bakery to work at the software company, was going to be outdone by the my new co-workers.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinVmW6fFYdsdM1JtxII6u4AKZQwvfjLXwKcZqmH8u6KhgLxRSoXH_-3H8FIbkglTCTMmERRiVicFQlBfiHeRO2hkUhJeE6RDDy2ltJUpWwGWmsevOd9wXtv3rXUbYrxmGlbhxUTey1Bqc/s1600-h/My+Medal.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinVmW6fFYdsdM1JtxII6u4AKZQwvfjLXwKcZqmH8u6KhgLxRSoXH_-3H8FIbkglTCTMmERRiVicFQlBfiHeRO2hkUhJeE6RDDy2ltJUpWwGWmsevOd9wXtv3rXUbYrxmGlbhxUTey1Bqc/s200/My+Medal.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301313006248519746" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">My Medal</span><br /></div><br />Given all that, I was tickled to take second place in the contest (even though, Mrs. Food Guy's opinion aside, taking second place is not the same as winning!). The winning dish was my favorite of the offerings that I tried (I did abstain from all the sweet entries), so I felt like I lost to a worthy adversary. And it was fun. I still don't feel good about cheating, especially since it also resulted in me drinking two beers the following night (somehow those beers were the cookies fault, I'm sure of it).<br /><br />At least I managed to contain the damage to those two days, and now it's almost CAKE TIME again.Food Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949035088915165613noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1384184934094037294.post-58410370558745509532009-01-28T16:49:00.000-08:002009-01-29T11:22:02.476-08:00Clown Meat<center><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9g58OJ-1Xkiup2UF8KdWwAf3BXHIGNdROsFaHjFcgPLcY2Bue4nK5YmaHuO8GiwrQiaHXNTbgXWXcquXuePYZojZER13bEnTlt0ca69PJN1TOLdna3wu9Z9n0JZwnKCCH2CsR2GMLuU8/s1600-h/clownmeat.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 154px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9g58OJ-1Xkiup2UF8KdWwAf3BXHIGNdROsFaHjFcgPLcY2Bue4nK5YmaHuO8GiwrQiaHXNTbgXWXcquXuePYZojZER13bEnTlt0ca69PJN1TOLdna3wu9Z9n0JZwnKCCH2CsR2GMLuU8/s200/clownmeat.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296511619649869698" /></a></center><center><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 24px; font-weight: bold; ">Why?</span><br /><br /><br /></center><center style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; ">If you look really closely at the sign, it says this is 80% Pork. So that would make it:</span></center><center style="text-align: left;"><ul><li>3% Sawdust</li><li>3%Pigeon </li><li>3% phlegm</li><li>1% Red Dye #40</li><li>10% Soylent Green</li></ul></center>Food Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949035088915165613noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1384184934094037294.post-52624497024969632592009-01-23T10:18:00.000-08:002009-01-23T14:35:27.698-08:00Fun DipAn edible stick. Pure sugar in a waxy papery pouch. What could be better? <br /><br />When I was 13, I spent my Saturdays working in the drugstore where my father was the weekend pharmacist. At the end of the day, dad would let me take one piece of candy off the shelf as a reward for my hard work (little did he know I spent most of my day eating whatever candy I could cram in my mouth between customers. I also stole cigarettes too, but that's a story for another day...).<br /><br />Lik-M-Aid Fun Dip was the one candy I wasn't allowed to bring home. So of course, I just tucked a pouch into my jacket or backpack before the end of the day, chose my 'wholesome' Red Hots or Kit Kat, and went merrily on my way.<br /><br />Fun Dip was great, because it came with three flavors of powder each in its own pouch. You could open one flavor at a time, saving the best (purple) for last (if you were like me), or you could mix flavors to make the green more palatable. And it came with two candy sticks for dipping, which I always thought was quite generous. <br /><br />Here's what it looks like now (which is far slicker than looked in 1983)<br /><center><br><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi5LQDmZ6YbQ_q9gutqCyT5ZjPJfMyptyoalMxZoVdECNCY-cJhmjnMU4lV_CbeeqYQgc9_AU5jrCnfBGfQIrMucd42v-6tcBgaAib9Vaqyh8IMKMpUtQZ5jL9YVt9GVoJR-mW8vYtKCo/s1600-h/fun+dip2.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 165px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi5LQDmZ6YbQ_q9gutqCyT5ZjPJfMyptyoalMxZoVdECNCY-cJhmjnMU4lV_CbeeqYQgc9_AU5jrCnfBGfQIrMucd42v-6tcBgaAib9Vaqyh8IMKMpUtQZ5jL9YVt9GVoJR-mW8vYtKCo/s200/fun+dip2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294617018905246322" /></a></center><br />More than anything, though, I remember plowing through a package of Fun Dip and having sugar burn on my lips and tongue from the rough texture of the candy. <br /><br />Now the thought of eating a package of flavored sugar repulses me. Don't get me wrong, I still LOVE candy, but straight up sugar, eaten with a sugar stick? Now I know why it was the forbidden candy.Food Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949035088915165613noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1384184934094037294.post-65314351382134443672009-01-14T18:10:00.000-08:002009-01-14T16:20:35.032-08:00Burger Cake<center><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjahQwXkEea8PwaEnhih5_PD8H5l0rPqxMrvRMLc7Awn7tMalBaSAWKaf5QGQDU-p2Aq6JJVppGWv1y_PD1p9qAwrpICHz-VO5BiK-rbewqvUBE631FJCTgb4kUOZ8GlnTb30spq3xL4Yg/s1600-h/burger+cake.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 204px; height: 264px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjahQwXkEea8PwaEnhih5_PD8H5l0rPqxMrvRMLc7Awn7tMalBaSAWKaf5QGQDU-p2Aq6JJVppGWv1y_PD1p9qAwrpICHz-VO5BiK-rbewqvUBE631FJCTgb4kUOZ8GlnTb30spq3xL4Yg/s200/burger+cake.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291306232415425074" /></a><br /><br />Two of my favorite things finally combined.<br />Is it a hamburger?<br />Is it a cake?<br />It's a BURGERCAKE!!!!</center>Food Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949035088915165613noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1384184934094037294.post-35116556099454423002009-01-14T15:01:00.000-08:002009-01-14T15:50:29.030-08:00Going HardcoreGosh Food Guy, it sure has been a long time since you've posted -- what's up? That's what you've been thinking, right?<br /><br />Sorry, but it's that time of year. Mrs. Food Guy and I refer to it as "Going Hardcore." From January 1 to Valentine's Day, we remove all junk from our diets. <br /><br />Now, don't confuse going hardcore with dieting. We typically eat pretty healthfully, but during the holidays we tend to get a little nuts. So we use the first six weeks of each year as a refresher course in eating well.<br /><br />And we love it. It feels better to eat well. I miss cake, don't get me wrong. But when I do have a piece of cake or some candy on February 14, I appreciate it. A LOT! <br /><center><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisSTOqvmlUFFPMPRXeOvBflsKa_k-uOBg9SJhuFrASp6zxnrDXgpLpi-VZrcjHZ2Z-04baoXWeb31rXV4uTbg2SWxky4-yzIHY7pVvzdvP6Elm8vzPaAN3yhjyfUz_MLsvbieLnt3Jb5Y/s1600-h/cake.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisSTOqvmlUFFPMPRXeOvBflsKa_k-uOBg9SJhuFrASp6zxnrDXgpLpi-VZrcjHZ2Z-04baoXWeb31rXV4uTbg2SWxky4-yzIHY7pVvzdvP6Elm8vzPaAN3yhjyfUz_MLsvbieLnt3Jb5Y/s200/cake.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291299211210481394" /></center></a><br /><br />So when you have a cookie, a Fire-flavored Twizzler Pull and Peel (they taste like FIRE!!!!) or a hunk of cake with extra frosting... think of me. Think of my pants fitting better. Think of me getting into working out again and knowing that come spring I won't be embarrassed to take my shirt off. Think of me happily eating dried dates for a snack and remarking aloud "Dried dates -- natures candy!"<br /><br />And think of me scarfing up my Valentine's Day junk food with abandon, not thinking about any of those things.Food Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949035088915165613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1384184934094037294.post-23970803099181771532008-12-11T14:49:00.000-08:002010-05-24T15:41:01.067-07:00Nuts to youI used to hate nuts. Vehemently. Emphatically. So passionate was I about my nut hatred that it's actually kind of hard to talk about it in the past tense. It somehow became part of me... the guy who hates nuts.<br /><br />Then one day I was out to dinner with Mrs. Food Guy. It was a fancy New Year's Eve dinner, in fact, which turns out to be fitting because of the new start it afforded me. It all began with a dish of green beans in a deliciously salty and sweet gooey sauce. Pan toasted whole almonds in the same sauce were tossed amongst the beans. The sauce was so good that when the beans were gone I resorted to something I never thought I'd do. I purposefully ate a nut.<br /><br />And it was good.<br /><br /><center><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyRrzmTEGe3WO4MNT2kvXEsu9dHZkoP0TOEXXMYYhIKl3xcIELiSPMrBBzZYvEiQShhUQ98HhMHiFS-hBYbSEg-zInsY8Ghu0f3mToeix4_XE0svFZyb5HZalmsWusUQGOHnGEfwUP2io/s1600-h/almondsjpg"><img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280178129961884210" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyRrzmTEGe3WO4MNT2kvXEsu9dHZkoP0TOEXXMYYhIKl3xcIELiSPMrBBzZYvEiQShhUQ98HhMHiFS-hBYbSEg-zInsY8Ghu0f3mToeix4_XE0svFZyb5HZalmsWusUQGOHnGEfwUP2io/s200/almondsjpg" /></a></center><br /><br />It wasn't just the sauce. It was the nut. It didn't make me gag. It didn't give me the yucky shivers or make me want to spit. It was actually tasty.<br /><br />Before I knew it I was trying almonds prepared other ways. How are they salted? How are they honey roasted? How do they taste slivered and blanched and tossed in a salad? To all these questions, I learned there I was one answer: They are GOOD.<br /><br />Now, I'd always liked peanuts. So I thought, okay, so I like peanuts and almonds. What other nuts might not be repugnant? Cashews aren't too bad, I soon found out. Hazelnuts are actually pretty good too. Macadamias... eh. Pecans won't make me puke, but then again, I'm not exactly excited about them.<br /><br />Turns out, the nut that is the grossest of the gross, the one that turned me off to all nuts, is the Walnut. Now THEY are gross! I still have that same visceral reaction if there's a walnut in my food. I can't even chew them -- if I can't spit it out without seeming juvenile or impolite, I have to swallow them whole. To nasty to chew.<br /><br />I feel bad for all these other perfectly edible nuts, being tainted by the mere association with walnuts.Food Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949035088915165613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1384184934094037294.post-12959028509349673502008-12-05T13:36:00.001-08:002008-12-11T14:11:24.986-08:00Belly -- in AnticipationMaple ice cream with bacon sprinkles -- need I say more? <div><br /></div><div>I'm dining at Belly tonight. Yes, I said dining -from what I know of this place, one doesn't just eat there.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I don't know, it might be a bit pretentious. But the logo is a pig. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJI6cCcADQS69Vjp0GZtIxHNfxgG0KCgMeGLtDk8K1jBlvVKRiv8TMj3f39lOjoojbYRZu30h-LO-SO0_H0ygRj4LYCsmWWOLfkpI6eR4FNzDtRltwlku6jS8uyqx4vfKtgQGwdX13NX0/s200/pigjpg" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 160px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276434434493914962" /></div><div style="text-align: center;">(not this pig)</div><div><br /></div><div>And they serve ice cream with bacon sprinkles (or jimmies, if you're from New England). I don't care how pretentious it is if this dessert is as good as it sounds.</div><br /><script type="text/javascript"><br />var gaJsHost = (("https:" == document.location.protocol) ? "https://ssl." : "http://www.");<br />document.write(unescape("%3Cscript src='" + gaJsHost + "google-analytics.com/ga.js' type='text/javascript'%3E%3C/script%3E"));<br /></script><br /><script type="text/javascript"><br />try {<br />var pageTracker = _gat._getTracker("UA-6649811-1");<br />pageTracker._trackPageview();<br />} catch(err) {}</script>Food Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949035088915165613noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1384184934094037294.post-80001410574574349652008-11-25T15:33:00.000-08:002008-11-25T15:39:59.079-08:00The Bird is the Word<div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5kZhupEFvt2n1UJJTHm_4OF7oUnUWtSF67lbVgHmTQzEalwVFWLnSvbxmjrXHIAGo52qqnM4zldkgbH3awOsgXUy4XObXYDNwz07C7kKdOrTHswEv4vsbl6YdTHP_2-8ckjgJ7GyC3wA/s200/turkey.jpg" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 159px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272743537182821170" /><br /></div><div>What would you do if you sat down to your family's Thanksgiving dinner, only to find the most important dish was missing? <br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Maybe you look forward to the sweet potatoes with tiny melted marshmallows on top -- you start thinking about them, salivating at the thought of them, in September. Or maybe your mother made green beans in a specific way that nobody else can duplicate and if they're not on the table on Thanksgiving life will have no meaning. </div><div><br /></div><div>One Thanksgiving when I was around 19, my parents, brother, and I joined a family friend's family for Thanksgiving. I didn't think it could possibly be that different, or that I'd care if it was. But then they served ham. HAM! On Thanksgiving!!!!</div><div><br /></div><div>It's silly, but I remember being just horrified when that ham was brought to the table. And I remember being mad, actually MAD at my mother for bringing us to this turkey-less place. What the hell was wrong with these people?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Now, I was a kid then, and as an adult I like to think I've grown somewhat more adaptable. It might have to do with spending Thanksgiving with assorted other people's families over the last 10 or 15 years. And with the fact that I've yet to come across another family who dared serve me anything but bird.</div><div><br /></div><div>But this year, some family friends are joining my new family (in-laws galore!) for Thanksgiving. And there was a discussion about these friends bringing something to the feast. One offered stuffing, and I found my alarms ringing. Mrs. Food Guy's mother makes the best stuffing I've ever eaten, and it was like I was 19 again:</div><div><br /></div><div>"NO, Don't let them change the stuffing... Anything but the stuffing!"</div><div><br /></div><div>And that's when I realized it doesn't matter how old you are. When there's a meal you love and you only get it once a year, you just don't want anyone messing with it. </div><div><br /></div><div>So good luck, and may your friends and relatives chose another day to experiment with the menu.</div><div><br /></div><div>Happy Thanksgiving!</div><div><br /></div>Food Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949035088915165613noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1384184934094037294.post-34337367599002658482008-11-24T16:46:00.000-08:002008-11-24T16:48:24.426-08:00A Creature (of Habit)<div>Same Old Same Old</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm a creature of habit. As much as I love food, I'll eat the same old thing day after day after day without getting tired of it. I can do this for weeks. Months, even. </div><div><br /></div><div>When I was first out of college, I'd eat nothing but Lipton Rice with Sauce packets, with the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">occasional</span> Pasta and Sauce thrown in just to keep things exciting. They came in all different flavors. I'd brown up some ground beef, dump it in the rice, throw in some frozen corn (gotta have a veggie) and consider it a feast. Sometimes I'd even broil up a loaf of supermarket garlic bread to go along with it. This was dinner, 5 nights a week. </div><div><br /></div><div>A few years later, I came up with another perfect routine -- the same three meals for dinner on a rotating basis. All purchased from Costco. All frozen. All delicious.</div><div><br /></div><div>Meal #1: Frozen Cheese Ravioli and a half of a jar of whatever pasta sauce was available. Sometimes, if I was feeling REALLY crazy, I'd brown up some hamburger to go in the sauce.</div><div><br /></div><div>Meal #2: Frozen <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Potstickers</span>. They came with their own sauce. No muss, no fuss.</div><div><br /></div><div>Meal #3: Frozen chicken Cordon <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Bleu</span>. Breaded chicken stuffed with ham and cheese that oozed out if you over cooked it. </div><div><br /></div><div>I wouldn't dream of eating this way anymore, for a lot of reasons. </div><div>I eat much healthier now -- my diet even includes many green vegetables. </div><div>I like some variety.</div><div>My wife would kill me if I cooked frozen ravioli every third night...</div><div><br /></div><div>But because I'm still such a routine bound person, I have the same thing for lunch just about every day. Almond butter and jelly on whole wheat. When the almond butter is gone, I switch to peanut butter for a jar. Then back again. </div><div><br /></div><div>I find odd comfort in knowing what's for lunch.</div><div><br /></div>Food Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949035088915165613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1384184934094037294.post-15989318892266712982008-11-12T16:02:00.000-08:002008-11-12T16:09:23.100-08:00Instant Soup<div style="text-align: justify;">For the first time in years, I had a cup of instant soup for lunch. You know the kind -- it comes in a cardboard cup. You peel back the foil lid and fill with boiling water. Cover and wait 5-8 minutes... That was hours ago, and I'm still not sure how I feel about it.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVIm9aNC1US5XB2jfUk_kMJ8wpm5MqQ4Atxs6OF6L1SIs1yGwB9OTOT-y8cu7zqWQsOGlF81atogHWrYoXl5veuxZALT2owIYl2Vo_QT9Pymo0KIYYXLsoD3183Z_B_VjsM9ECQipwUrM/s1600-h/bigcup_blackbean.jpg"></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">On the one hand, the soup was quite a step up from the old Cup o' Soups I used to buy. Today I had Dr. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">McDougall's</span> Black Bean and Lime soup.<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVIm9aNC1US5XB2jfUk_kMJ8wpm5MqQ4Atxs6OF6L1SIs1yGwB9OTOT-y8cu7zqWQsOGlF81atogHWrYoXl5veuxZALT2owIYl2Vo_QT9Pymo0KIYYXLsoD3183Z_B_VjsM9ECQipwUrM/s1600-h/bigcup_blackbean.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 145px; height: 174px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVIm9aNC1US5XB2jfUk_kMJ8wpm5MqQ4Atxs6OF6L1SIs1yGwB9OTOT-y8cu7zqWQsOGlF81atogHWrYoXl5veuxZALT2owIYl2Vo_QT9Pymo0KIYYXLsoD3183Z_B_VjsM9ECQipwUrM/s200/bigcup_blackbean.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267926329690740066" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>It was vegan and gluten free (thank goodness! Everyone knows gluten is the enemy... <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">ahhh</span>, I think I'll save my rant about the gluten-phobics for a later date). The ingredients were all actually <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">pronounceable</span>. If you're going to eat food that lives on a shelf and cooks in a cup, it's about the best you could do.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>On the other hand, it was REALLY salty. And sorta <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">sludgey</span>. Obviously out of practice with such things, I thought I had stirred the heck out of it when I added the water. But apparently I didn't because I ate several clumps of wet seasoning that were a little disturbing. They didn't taste that bad, to be honest, but they were weird. And I might not have been patient enough to let it cook for the recommended time, so it was a little crunchy (which is not a quality I particularly enjoy in my black beans).</div><div><br /></div><div>But I sorta liked it. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm so ashamed...</div>Food Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949035088915165613noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1384184934094037294.post-33895033021273906092008-11-05T12:41:00.000-08:002008-11-06T16:51:26.671-08:00Three Words<div>Breakfast For Dinner.</div><div><br /></div><div>What else is there to say? Who doesn't love eggs and bacon (yes, bacon again) and homefries and toast for dinner? Or a scramble with onions and peppers and chunks of sausage, maybe even some zucchini or spinach? </div><div><br /></div><div>When I was a kid, my mom did all the cooking in our house. And she was a really good cook, adventurous for somebody who learned to cook in the late 60's. Sure, she cooked some things we were all a little afraid of -- like lentil loaf (which I'd probably love now, but when I was 12 I couldn't go near it!). And yeah, sometimes she cooked delicious dinners that were so far over our heads that we'd beg for simple spaghetti and meatballs. But overall, I've never had any complaints about my mother's cooking.</div><div><br /></div><div>On those rare occassions when Mom wasn't home to cook us dinner, Dad took over the stove. And there was nothing, NOTHING we liked better than when my father cooked. Because the only thing he EVER cooked was Breakfast for Dinner.</div><div><br /></div><div>And there wasn't just one breakfast dish at which he excelled. He made omelets filled with, of all things, grape jelly, which were just amazing. He made better <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Matzah_brei">matzoh brei</a> than either of my grandmothers could make He made the fluffiest scrambled eggs and perfect bacon. He made toasted bagels coated in what we called "jellyosis" -- the messy mixture created when you butter a hot bagel and then quickly slather it with jelly (from the sound of it, we ate a lot of jelly when Dad cooked). When you got some on you, you had to yell "Oh no, I've got jellyosis!!!!!!!!!" </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm not one of those people with millions of happy memories from childhood. So I'll take what I can get and chalk up my lifelong love of Breakfast For Dinner to those nights when Dad cooked. </div><div><br /></div><div>But that's just me. Why do YOU love BforD?</div>Food Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949035088915165613noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1384184934094037294.post-86477146928602597472008-11-04T14:49:00.001-08:002008-11-04T15:19:21.862-08:00Tiny FoodMy new work routine includes eating a tiny little wheel of cheese and drinking a miniature V8 every day at 3. I like having something to look forward to after lunch and it's good for me to get a little nutrition mid-day. And, man, do I mean LITTLE.<br /><br />As I mentioned in my previous post, I'm not the best judge of reasonable portion sizes. But a 5.5 oz can of V8 is barely enough to get my mouth wet. Is that really a full serving of vegetables? The answer, I just learned, is yes. According to their <a href="http://www.v8juice.com/Products.aspx">website</a>, a half cup (or 4 oz) of V8 is a full serving of veggies. So my tiny little can is 1.25 servings. Goody for me!<br /><br />Despite what I just learned, I kind of have a hard time believing it... yet I drink it each day, along with my wheel of <a href="http://www.thelaughingcow.com/">Laughing Cow Mini Baby Bel Light</a> (there are more words in the name of the cheese than there are bites of cheese!). I actually enjoy them both, but I am starting to hate their diminutive proportions.<br /><br />They sit in my hand, looking all petite and smug. Like they're taunting me -- "What's the matter Jumbo? We don't look like enough food for you??" All I can do is polish them off as quickly as I can and try to convince myself that I won't be hungry again until dinner.<br /><br />Fat chance.Food Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949035088915165613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1384184934094037294.post-8305344782087202422008-10-30T16:38:00.000-07:002008-10-31T11:57:51.250-07:00Happy HalloweenI could have named this blog The Candy Guy, because I love the stuff (as if my ode to candy corn didn't clue you in to that already!). I used to eat pounds of it, literally pounds of it, on a pretty regular basis. My idea of a perfect evening was to get in bed with a good book and a large bag of candy, preferably Richardson's Gourmet Mints. Creamy mint center, surrounded by semi-sweet chocolate, lovingly contained by a candy shell... ahhh yes, my old yellow, pink, orange, and blue friends.<br /><center><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPtx3n6orR8MGcOcNvTGDXUxf4lWw7NzuglkT1TlfCm5K0Nrdr90FFXoXoy2zhP0FqfYPpqwDrMJFsfBVfy1vfU_6bEFi_A8I4XJ6AG_oGF9Nb8EfBfZTtTnWURHnMQxM4UUMo6Ivy7ao/s1600-h/richardson.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPtx3n6orR8MGcOcNvTGDXUxf4lWw7NzuglkT1TlfCm5K0Nrdr90FFXoXoy2zhP0FqfYPpqwDrMJFsfBVfy1vfU_6bEFi_A8I4XJ6AG_oGF9Nb8EfBfZTtTnWURHnMQxM4UUMo6Ivy7ao/s200/richardson.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263096916324792274" border="0" /></a></center><br />But it didn't matter what candy I had, or how much -- I'd eat until it was gone.<br /><br />About the time I hit 230 pounds (on an average sized 5'10" frame), I realized this was not good for me. This happened to coincide with my mints disappearing from the shelves (I still don't know what happened to them, but you can buy them online, which I take great comfort in knowing!). So now I only periodically eat candy, and when I do I try to determine how much a 'normal person' would eat in one sitting. Then I double -- sometimes triple-- that, and only buy that specific amount. Of course, I still eat it all, but at least I've managed my consumption a little.<br /><br /><br />This is the first Halloween that Food Guy Jr. is aware of what's going on around him. At almost 14 months, he still hasn't had his first bite of candy, but I think tonight that's going to change. We'll see what happens.<br /><br />Happy Halloween!Food Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949035088915165613noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1384184934094037294.post-88889073543254195552008-10-29T11:25:00.000-07:002008-10-30T11:31:59.767-07:00Candy Crack Corn, and I Don't Care...With Halloween only a few days away, I have to write about candy. It won't be the last time, I assure you. The Food Guy LOVES candy and can talk about it endlessly.<br /><br />But today, I'm thinking about just one kind of candy. It's triangular. It's orange, yellow, and white (sometimes brown too!). And it is more addictive than just about any other sweet. The question I have is this: WHY is it so impossible to have just a few candy corns?<br /><br /><center><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWkcyuOU-00QtnhFbIOf5Qc32o6DFdS29_RFSJ_67yE4qrT5Gw_KWpWBK-BaxovHGz58xXlQfWM3MmYd_hzsupvUsgQBxe84r_f9339RqVqhi0tbkzqzeXshqMzsKj3FhKxtbzPAWYfnA/s1600-h/candycorn.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 186px; height: 186px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWkcyuOU-00QtnhFbIOf5Qc32o6DFdS29_RFSJ_67yE4qrT5Gw_KWpWBK-BaxovHGz58xXlQfWM3MmYd_hzsupvUsgQBxe84r_f9339RqVqhi0tbkzqzeXshqMzsKj3FhKxtbzPAWYfnA/s200/candycorn.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262662461395936050" border="0" /></a> </center><br /><br />As the trees start showing the first hints of oranges and yellows, matching bags of candy corn start appearing on the supermarket shelves. They're usually pretty cheap, so you buy two, maybe three. You open the bag, thinking "Oh, I'll just have a few corns, maybe put the rest out in a nice bowl on the coffee table..." You grab a few, go back about your business.<br /><br />Flash forward 15 minutes, and all three bags of corn are gone. Your teeth ache. Your head feels foggy. Your stomach is in turmoil. You are disgusted with yourself. And you're looking for your keys because you need to get back to the store for more candy corn!<br /><br />By the time Halloween passes, you're thankful they've been replaced by chocolate Santas and candy canes, because you can't keep yourself from buying a bag every time you see one, no matter how grossed out you are with them, and yourself.<br /><br />When I say "you" throughout this blog, I admit that I mean "me." I used to think it was <span style="font-weight: bold;">only</span> me. Then I met Mrs. Food Guy. The two of us can mow through five pounds of candy corn faster than an ordinary person can get the bag opened. It's not pretty, believe me -- two adults sitting on a couch, complaining of wanting to puke while at the same time keeping close tabs on the other persons corn-pile (can't have one of us getting more than their fair share of corn!), trying so hard to eat just a few but finding themselves unable to quit shoving them down their gullets.<br /><br />What do they put in that stuff? It brings to mind the traditional song:<br /><br />Candy crack corn, and I don't care,<br />Candy crack corn, and I don't care,<br />Candy crack corn, and I don't care<br />My teeth's have gone away!!!Food Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949035088915165613noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1384184934094037294.post-65050255589373858182008-10-27T14:35:00.000-07:002008-10-28T13:50:39.981-07:00I Hate RecipesWhenever I follow a recipe, I get this idea in my head of what the dish is going to look and taste like. Usually the picture in my head is somewhat influenced by the picture that invariably accompanies the recipe (imagine that!). The finished product always looks so perfect... I can practically taste it.<br /><br />Then I start to cook. It isn't long before I find something out of whack. Once I was making a curry, and the recipe called for just a half teaspoon of curry powder. I may be guilty of ocassionally over-spicing a dish here and there, but a HALF a teaspoon of curry powder in a giant pot of curry??? I wouldn't even taste that. I might as well just wave the curry powder over the pot and say CURRY CURRY CURRY for the amount of flavoring that would give the dish!<br /><br />I probably cook 10 meals of my own creation for every one I use a recipe for. And just about every time I follow a recipe, I think it was a waste of time. Is this just me?<br /><br />Now if only I could make something that looked THIS good:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRv9voqpD_rwQSdT-RDkUeXTGVd2mW0FJaHFOMd9Ji_lUKMdsYjKmz-R_IJid4IJDSyLJJtsMOCGOuCYSXTBjdi5Dh5xnu9uUDkJ5KMhWvGi9pFUMu6-lQwGc8IavOYLmWVN9UeNscDb4/s1600-h/jello+molds.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 192px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRv9voqpD_rwQSdT-RDkUeXTGVd2mW0FJaHFOMd9Ji_lUKMdsYjKmz-R_IJid4IJDSyLJJtsMOCGOuCYSXTBjdi5Dh5xnu9uUDkJ5KMhWvGi9pFUMu6-lQwGc8IavOYLmWVN9UeNscDb4/s200/jello+molds.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262309944384482194" border="0" /></a>Food Guyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09949035088915165613noreply@blogger.com0