"Negative Ghostrider, the pattern is full."
Yes. As a matter of fact that is Tom Skerritt, who just happened to be>"/>
"Negative Ghostrider, the pattern is full."
Yes. As a matter of fact that is Tom Skerritt, who just happened to be hanging out at Il Terrazzo Carmine (reviewed this week) while Food Porn photographer Joshua Huston was there to grab a few snaps. Commander Mike Metcalf (callsign: Viper) was kind enough to sit still for a picture.
"Or actually, I guess it was the Third Coming. Or possibly the Fifth. See, if there's one thing about the McRib that no one can take away from it, it's that the thing is pretty much unkillable. Having been removed from the McDonald's menu long ago, it keeps being brought back in the form of clever marketing ploys--making it seem special by way of making it rare and having it come and go like some kind of culinary Brigadoon. A mechanically-separated and machine-formed pork Brigadoon."
From this week's comment on the return of the McRib as a plot by liberals to force down conservative Republican turnout on election day. Guess that didn't work out so well, huh? There's also a Stephen Colbert video attached. You should watch it right now.
"Kimball is...a self- made millionaire with a relentless Yankee grit. In fact, he's got such an air of persnickety exactitude, Kimball could make Willy Wonka say "Damn, dude, chill the fuck out." Lesser men would've ordered a pizza; but Kimball is no lesser man. In fact, he's a culinary Zarathustra--it's this kind of pursuit of perfection that led Kimball to pick entries out of Farmer's iconic recipe book, and prepare them using only the ingredients and equipment available when the book's 1896 edition was released."
Christopher Kimball from America's Test Kitchen was in town this week. We sent the Surly Gourmand out to pay him a visit. I think you can probably guess how well that went.
"I love McDonald's. I don't believe people who hate McDonald's.
I really don't see what's subjective about classifying a meal at McDonald's a thin slice from nirvana. Not only is a meal at McDonald's delicious, but it is, how do we say today, "ethically raised." At least the kind of "ethics" I'm interested in. It's affordable (I dare you to try and replicate a McDouble at home for $1), they buy local (eastern Washington potatoes, western Washington milk, as you can see on the billboards), and every single person who walks through the golden arches is treated exactly the same way. Social class has absolutely no holding at McDonald's. The broken man with one dollar to his name and the McWindows exec are treated to identical experiences, and both allowed to use the bathroom."
From "Top 5 McDonald's Meals to Buy When Calories & Social Stigma Are Not Considerations," a stirring defense of Mickey D's Clown-a-teria.
"On the eve of midterm elections, Crow's more media-saturated neighbor Nabob was packed high with eye-rollers and shit-talkers raising their blood temperatures over their country's inevitable slide into some nightmare Libertarian abyss. Of course, this only optimized the subdued warmth of Crow from my favorite Election Day activity -- getting smashed by myself and cloistering up against any possibility of idle chit-chat about the lumbering, impotent beast we call American politics."
From "Whiskey Sour Times at Crow," the Whiskey Wednesday review.
"Bacon you cook in the toaster. We can't imagine what went wrong with this."
From the list, "7 Food Flops, FAILs and Duds." And toaster-bacon wasn't even the worst of them. Just the most photogenic.
"But Fieri's likely got his own limo-driver, as his food-celeb juggernaut seems virtually immune to criticism. He'd be the Sarah Palin of cable television if Sarah Palin weren't already the Sarah Palin of cable television."
Just a sample from "Adam Richman & Guy Fieri: Man v. Douche?" in which we speculate which of these two food "celebrities" would win a douche-off.
"Do not make reservations. Ever. Reservations are for regular people--those who feel fortunate that they were able to get a table at a popular restaurant. Modern Sophisticates know that the restaurant is fortunate to have them in attendance and always behaves in such a fashion that makes this plain.
So what to do about being seated, then, you ask? Simplicity itself. Upon entering the restaurant, immediately scan the floor for people you know--preferably ones with lots of money and some sense of shame. If you don't see anyone you know, do not hesitate. Just stride purposefully out onto the floor, wave and loudly shout, "Muffy!" or "Brad!" or "Mr. President!" and then seat yourself at the first table with an available chair.
The important thing here is not to stop moving. Just walk as though you know where you are going and absolutely belong there. If someone from the restaurant's staff tries to stop you, hand him your opera cape with a condescending nod. If a second person tries to stop you, take off your pants and hand them over. If a third person tries to stop you, get incredibly huffy and indignant, ask if he knows who you are, ask again LOUDER, then faint or fake a heart attack.
This system works much better with a crowd of people. If you have a bodyguard, it's even easier because your bodyguard is paid to punch people for you. If you don't have a bodyguard, you should really consider getting one."
Some tips on finding seats at a busy restaurant, courtesy of this week's edition of Food Pairing for the Modern Sophisticate, "5 Ways To Be The Best At Dining Out."
Looking for more news, more laughs or more pictures of Tom Skerritt? Just bop on over to the Voracious blog and see what else you might've missed this week.