Skip Project X and Go Straight for Snout & Co.'s Pork


project x.jpg
Dudes just bein' fuckin' dudes, ya knkow?
The Dinner: a cuban, greens, and veggie burger from Snout & Co. and a pint of ale from


Skip Project X and Go Straight for Snout & Co.'s Pork

  • Skip Project X and Go Straight for Snout & Co.'s Pork

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    project x.jpg
    Dudes just bein' fuckin' dudes, ya knkow?
    The Dinner: a cuban, greens, and veggie burger from Snout & Co. and a pint of ale from Hilliard's Beer BALLARD

    The Movie: Project X at the Meridian, 1501 7th Ave, DOWNTOWN.

    The Screenplate: I don't think there's any way to improve upon the first five words of the AV Club's review of the high-school-kids-throw-party-in-hopes-of-getting-laid found-footage disaster that is Project X, so I won't try. (Those words: "There's a lot to dislike...")

    What I'll say instead is that Project X is so crude and mean-spirited that merely watching its first 20 minutes could turn any permissive Tarantino fan into a David Brooks-level scold. In that first act, a father confesses to his wife that their son is a "loser," a main character we're supposed to like (at least I assume we're supposed to like him) shoos away a family pet by calling it a "faggot dog," and there are more swaggering, gratuitous "fucks," "pussies," "cocks," and "bitches" uttered than in any movie in recent memory.

    Do I sound like a prude? Well fine, maybe I do. But that's because 90-some minutes spent with the irredeemable pricks in Project X make priggishness seem like a virtue. I'm practically a Puritan now, and quite happy in my bonnet, thank you very much.

    The story is a relatively simple one. Three teenage boys in sunny Pasadena, along with a fourth, mostly unseen goth-type who's there to record everything, plan and throw a rager in order to increase their social capital and cash it in for one of those words I said above. Predictably, things get a little out of hand. Sort of unpredictably, things also get a little sci-fi.

    Project X sounds like a placeholder title for a movie still in development. And I think there's a reason for that. It's as if someone in Hollywood walked out of Superbad and said, "Hey, wouldn't that movie have been even better if none of the characters were likeable? And instead of likeable characters, we just added boobs? Lots of boobs?!" Roughly the same amount of thought went into the title.

    But Project X isn't merely a movie for teenagers. That would make it defensible. Instead, it's a movie written by them too.

    Normally there'd be nothing wrong with boobs. But Project X makes so little effort to present the women attached to those boobs -- scratch that, girls attached to those boobs; after all, we're supposed to believe that all the T&A is underage T&A -- as anything other than jiggly torsos, that they might as well be lumped together in the credit roll under the identifier "TITS". (Actually, for all I know they might have been. For the first time since Dude, Where's My Car? -- I know, I know -- I left the theater before the movie ran its course. And yes, that does make me a shitty critic.)

    (brilliant segue in 3...2...1...)

    Fortunately, while the movie merely treated people like pieces of meat, the meal that came before it featured actual meat. And good meat at that.

    Miami-native Lee Scott has only been tooling around town in his Snout & Co. truck since last August, but he's already developed a reputation for delivering solid Cuban and Southern-influenced food. Hilliard's Beer in Ballard is even newer, having only opened in October, but also has a following thanks to an active Twitter feed, the novelty of "bottling" all its beers in cans, and, most important of all, delicious suds, including its signature Saison.

    Every Saturday from 3-8, Scott parks the mobile Snout in Hilliard's parking lot. The brewery smartly lets customers bring their meals inside, which means its relationship with the purveyors of pig is sweetly symbiotic.

    Scott's pressed Seattle Cuban with red onion relish and chimichurri mango sauce is a standout -- he says it's usually the first order he runs out of -- and his collard greens come with enough ham hock to qualify as an entree. But the real surprise is Snout's veggie burger.

    The menu says Scott's burger is composed of beets, quinoa, and water chestnuts. But he must be leaving out some sort of flavored epoxy, because he's somehow find a way to make the world's only veggie burger that manages to hold its form down to the last bite. Also: it tastes really, really good (the havarti and onion relish probably help).

    Want to recreate my night on the town? Just head to Ballard on a Saturday. Wait a few weeks first, though. That way the burger will still be there, but the X will thankfully be long gone from the marquee.

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