Recently in Food and Spirits Category

I love many things about Los Angeles, but I can't say I'm a big fan of the early-bird schedule. Once 7:30 rolls around, you'd be hard pressed to find anyone who hasn't eaten dinner yet (or at least already made plans to). Imagine my unhappiness then Friday night when dinner plans had fallen through, leaving me high and dry at the witching hour of 9 PM. In New York, this would barely be a problem. It's practically the norm to eat after ten. In LA though, I was S.O.L., which meant I'd have to scavenge my fridge for nourishment. It was looking like Friday night was gonna be spent alone with a slice of leftover quiche and perhaps some tears. However, I was saved in the eleventh hour (almost quite literally) by my friend Tony C (of Sinosoul), who said he'd be willing to dine with me if I gave him an hour or so to drive back from the depths of Fullerton, CA. Oh glorious developments. Not only did I have someone to have dinner with, but I knew I'd be in store for some fun Asian grub as well. And that's kind of my favorite grub.

Apologies for the dearth of updates on the blog today. I spent a decent portion of the day working out my taxes, which is never a particularly fun experience. The good news is that I'm done (for now), which means I can turn my attention back here. As avid readers of this blog may remember, about two weeks ago, I attempted my first ever batch of flapjacks. The result was very promising, and I was happy to have finally conquered such a basic breakfast staple.

My friend Andrea, however, was beside herself with frustration. She insisted that when it came to pancakes, there were Ina Garten's Banana Sour Cream variety... and then everything else. Over the course of many emails and Facebook posts (often written in all caps), Andrea declared that Ina's griddle creations were the end all and be all of pancakes and that I was simply wasting my time with these namby pamby other recipes. Normally I'd just nod politely -- after all, a pancake is a pancake. Some are better than others, but can one recipe be so head and shoulders above the rest that it inspires rabid loyalty? Well, apparently yes. I trust Andrea's tastes, and furthermore, I trust Ina Garten's recipes. Therefore, I stocked up on bananas and sour cream and assembled the batter.

Results after the jump.

This morning, there was as wonderful confluence of events that led to an unexpected Adventure in Domesticity. 1) I ran out of my normal breakfast cereal that I eat everyday; and 2) I learned it was National Pancake Day, at least as declared by IHOP. What better way to fill the breakfast void than by cooking up some flapjacks myself, a humble mission I had never actually attempted before (potato and kimchee pancakes don't count). Yes, I've made some bizarre and dainty items at this point, but never have I tried the simple pancake.

After some research, I settled on a generic recipe from the Food Network and got to work in my kitchen. The results after the jump...

Still trying to figure out what to make for Super Bowl Sunday? Perhaps you should take the lead of my friend Heather, author of Eat Your Feelings, who has made this instructional video in the effort to a) enlighten the masses on a possible game-time option, and b) promote her aforementioned book.

Anyway, take a gander at the video, and please enjoy Heather shot-gunning a beer.

My old friend IndianJones came into town this past weekend, and on Friday night, he announced that he wanted to try some of Los Angelee's banh mi offerings. For those who are unaware, banh mi are Vietnamese sandwiches that are revered for their bold flavors and simple ingredients. Best of all: the sandwiches can usually be purchased for not much more than $2. Cheap? Flavorful? Asian? I'm so there.

I'm something of a banh mi novice; so I turned to my foodie/Vietnamese friends for some recommendations. Pam (a.k.a. Daily Gluttony) at Rants and Craves suggested Banh Mi My Tho (which had strong reviews at Yelp), Cathy from gas•tron•o•my recommended Saigon's Sandwich and Bakery, and Jenny from, well, this blog insisted that we go to Lee's Sandwiches.

Ultimately, we decided on Banh Mi My Tho -- mostly because it was closest, and it had the highest Yelp score. I do plan, however, on trying the other two banh mi spots at some time in the future. In the meantime, check out the exciting trip IndianJones and I took in search of this mystical sandwich after the jump...

The other day, I posted a humble photo of a cooked eel on Facebook, and the response was shockingly vehement. Some people thought it looked tasty. Others wanted to vomit. Now, I know eel doesn't sound appealing, nor is my presentation particularly appetizing, but what of the taste? People swear by eel in sushi. Why the visceral reaction against it in its most basic form?

Here is a sampling of comments from Facebook (for the record, two people said they liked the photo):

It all leads me to ponder this question: is eel awesome? Or revolting?

DISCUSS

My dearest friend Sly emailed me last night to see if I wanted Korean food, and far be it for me to turn her down. After all, her company is ever so charming, and even more importantly, I'm a fiend for Korean food; so really it was a win-win situation for me. Throw Bets into the mix, and we had the makings for a raucous evening out (even if there was inevitably a sheer lack of raucousness). Nevertheless, we soon had to decide on a destination amongst the various offerings in Los Angeles's Koreatown neighborhood, and feeling adventurous, I proposed we go to Ondal 2 (or On Dal 2 -- the spelling varies). I had never been to the restaurant, whose speciality is a crab hot pot, but I had once read about it in the Los Angeles Times back in 2007 and had wanted to try it ever since (I even went so far as to email the author of the story to ask for the restaurant's street address, which had inexplicably not been published initially).

For two years, every time I proposed dinner at Ondal 2, I never had any takers, but thankfully last night, I finally generated interest in the spot. Sly and Bets both seemed game for something new; so we trekked down to a quiet stretch of Washington Boulevard and entered the unassuming restaurant. As soon as we stepped inside, the intoxicating odor of crab (not to mention Windex as one server rigorously wiped down a nearby table) filled our noses. We knew then that we were in for a memorable dinner...

Impressed by my ever involved Adventures in Domesticity, my mother last month gave me two Julia Child cookbooks: Julia Child & Company and Julia Child & More Company. My mom, who likes to call herself C-Side, explained to me that more than any other tomes, these two cookbooks elevated her culinary education. This was all very exciting to me as I had yet to attempt a Julia Child recipe in any shape, matter, or form. Part of me was intimidated, and part of me felt like it was already well-worn territory, thanks to Julie Powell (on whom Julie & Julia was based). But then I realized that just because a bigger, more successful blogger had already tackled Julia Child didn't mean I couldn't attempt a similar Adventure in Domesticity myself. After all, Julie Powell hasn't cornered the market on Julia Child (although, she has cornered the market on saying "penis" on Iron Chef).

Nevertheless, feeling emboldened and intrepid, I decided to take on an ambitious cake by Julia Child -- one that my mom had made two or three times in my youth. I'm talking of the one and only Bombe Aux Trois Chocolats: a chocolate-covered, brownie-crusted, oversized bonbon of a cake filled with dense, delectable chocolate mousse. I knew it wouldn't be easy -- the entire cake is actually comprised of three different recipes in the book -- but my desire for a challenge coupled with an insatiable craving for chocolate propelled me forward. Would I be able to properly execute this most decadent of desserts? Results after the jump...

About a month ago, I discovered the Sichuan cookbook Land of Plenty by Fuchsia Dunlop online and became immediately intrigued. The collection of recipes has received rave reviews from critics, bloggers, and buyers on sites like Amazon, and after having perused various images of dishes people had whipped up from the book, I felt an overwhelming desire to try one out myself. The only problem: I didn't have Land of Plenty. You see, I haven't found it in any bookstores as of yet, and while I could purchase it off Amazon (for cheaper), I'd personally like to at least leaf through it once before ordering to see if it's even a cookbook I'd use frequently enough. Nothing worse than a novelty cookbook taking up space on the shelf.

Well, in lieu of being able to thumb my way through Land of Plenty, I resorted to Googling people's experiences with the book, and that ultimately took me to a site called Eat It, Atlanta, which features a "Land of Plenty series" in which a writer attempts to cook perhaps all of Dunlop's recipes. He eventually stops after about eight or ten posts, which is unfortunate, but at least there's enough content there to give me a small idea of what's in the cookbook. One of the more intriguing recipes is for something called Red Cooked Pork -- fascinating to me for both the name, the appearance, and its lack of exotic ingredients (ie. Sichuan peppercorns). With my appetite and curiosity piqued, I followed a link from Eat It, Atlanta to a site called Appetite for China where I found Fuchsia Dunlop's recipe for the dish. Upon seeing the photos on that website, I knew it was AWN. Granted, it didn't look like the healthiest of recipes, but I figured this (coupled with my next planned Adventure in Domesticity) would be my triumphant final fatty huzzah to 2009 (with healthier forays to come in the New Year, as is often the lofty goal).

But would I be able to successfully pull off this dish, which was apparently the favorite of Chairman Mao? Results after the jump...

As a friendly reminder, please don't forget to vote for jash's appetizer in Food2's latest contest. Today is the last full day for voting (polls close on Tuesday), and he's currently in second place by just a few votes. Help him win the competition. As an added bonus, if you vote for jash, you can see a picture of him AND Sly on the Food2 website. If that's not an incentive, I don't know what is.

Vote for jash here.

Once again, it is time for me to call upon my legion of readers to mobilize for the greater good of mankind. My old friend jash has entered into a contest and desperately needs your help in order to procure success. Here are the details: jash submitted to Food2's "Party App-titude Challenge" which invites users to send in their very own original appetizer recipe. Winners receive "a trip for 2 to New York for a tour of Food Network Kitchens, a year of Food Network Magazine and a chance to dine with Kelsey & Spike Cook star, Kelsey Nixon." Sounds pretty sweet.

But alas, poor jash needs some backup. His lovely entry, Crostini with Onion Compote & Brie, does not have the necessary votes to catapult him to the top. We must change this -- especially since jash's appetizer hails from a decidedly Ina Garten tradition of sophistication and refinement (as opposed to much of his competition, which speaks regrettably to a more Sandra Lee palate, if you know what I'm saying).

Anyway, to help jash attain the brass ring of Food2 glory, visit his entry here and cast your vote (the higher the rating, the better). I'm sure he would thank you for your time, despite being a noteworthy curmudgeon.

It was all cold and rainy in LA on Monday, and for whatever reason, this spurred on an insatiable craving for chocolate cake -- one that I could not quell, no matter how hard I tried. Making matters worse was that Mark Bittman had just written a piece about chocolate layer cake, and if that wasn't bad enough, I had just recently seen an episode of Ask Aida wherein Aida Mollenkamp baked a chocolate cake with a frosting made out of PUDDING. Add to that a scene in It's Complicated featuring Meryl Streep and an amazing slice of chocolate cake, and I decided enough was enough. I was going to make a chocolate cake, dammit, and when I paused to reconsider, I realized that despite a lovely trip to Disneyland and a rowdy time with my friends over the weekend, I had never gotten around to having any actual birthday cake. WELL THEN. What better reason to attempt my very first layer cake? And so the plan was put into motion. I would be making cake.

The results after the jump...

Last week I posted something about "Eat My Blog," which was a charity bake sale put on by a bunch of bloggers in the Los Angeles area. I'm proud to report that according to organizer Cathy Danh from gas•tron•o•my, the event raised over $3,000! That's kind of insane. I didn't think bake sales could even raise a fraction of that, but I suppose one should never underestimate the power of sugary baked goods. Nevertheless, the event was such a hit that there are already tentative plans for a second one in a few months. Will keep you all updated...

After the jump, a few pics from the bake sale.

To anyone living in Los Angeles -- especially the Hollywood / West Hollywood area -- check this out. On Saturday from 10 AM to 4 PM, a blogger bake sale will be going down at Zeke's Smokehouse on Santa Monica Blvd. Yours truly will be participating, as will a host of other bloggers such as Lisa Timmons from lisatimmons.com, Cathy from gas•tron•o•my, and Diana from Diana Takes A Bite. Also, word has it that bloggers from the LA Times and LA Weekly will be present as well.

There will be plenty of delicious items to buy (I'm contributing blondies), and all proceeds go to the Los Angeles Regional Foodbank. Please come by and support a great cause! At the very least, you can meet some bloggers, and who wouldn't want to do that?

WHERE:
Zeke's Smokehouse:
7100 Santa Monica Blvd
West Hollywood, CA 90046

WHEN:
December 5th, 10 AM to 5 PM

A full list of participating bloggers after the jump.

Next week, most Americans will be gathered around a table of some sort to celebrate Thanksgiving, and by "celebrate," I mean stuff their faces until a button or four pops off any variety of shirt, pants, blouse, or skort. And when it comes to gut-busting food, no one does it better than Ina Garten. That's why it was only logical that my clique would convene yet again for our third Barefoot Contessa potluck night, this time in honor of Thanksgiving. Yes, we assembled a small pre-Thanksgiving Thanksigiving and enjoyed some of Ina's best seasonal offerings. On the menu: turkey, stuffing, veggies, salad, pumpkin stuff, dip, and, of course, booze. How bad can that be?

If you're looking for inspiration for next week's big feast, you've come to the right place. Check out our Mayflower celebration -- replete with a real life American Indian! -- after the jump...

(additional pictures by jash -- ie. the ones that clearly came from a better camera)

A magnificent thing happened on Friday afternoon. A free bottle of 1800 Silver Tequila arrived at my doorstep! This wasn't a totally random event though. I had received an email from a firm representing 1800 Tequila announcing that the company would be releasing a limited edition series of bottles designed by various artists (read the full press release here), and in an effort to promote this event, they wanted to send me a free bottle. How could I resist?

Well, when I think of tequila, I think of two people: my friend Paul (who in 2000, chugged a cup of Jose Cuervo and then ran around my backyard with the bottle, screaming "I'm the tequila fairy!" for about thirty minutes), and my friend Sly, who has yet to proclaim herself as any sort of tequila sprite or nymph but enjoys the stuff nonetheless. Unfortunately, Paul lives in Portland; so he was unable to enjoy the tequila with me, but I still had Sly, and thus, I invited her down to sample the wares . Our boozy adventures after the jump...

For nearly two years, I've been littering my blog with "Adventures In Domesticity" posts where I attempt some recipe in an effort to hone the domestic side of my personality. I've cooked up many interesting dishes and subsequently had many fascinating adventures, but last night marked a true milestone for me. It was the first time ever that a published cookbook author was in attendance to oversee the chaos. No, Ina Garten hadn't dropped by the apartment (although, she has an open invitation). This was my friend Heather Whaley, who just published the book Eat Your Feelings: Recipes For Self-Loathing. Falling somewhere between humor and cooking, the book is all about recipes you can whip up easily and with minimal effort when you're just in one of those MOODS (or drunk). Realizing your marriage is on thin ice? Try the "Staying Together for the Children Chicken Tetrazzini." Feeling a bit sexually harassed? Go for the "Rainbow Sherbet 'Cause Your Boss Is A Pervert." Or maybe you just feel under appreciated. Then it's time for the "You Are Overqualified for Your Job and They Make You Get the Donuts Super Veggie Dog."

Anyway, with Heather's book in hand, we decided to have a little Eat Your Feelings party involving an appetizer, an entree, and a dessert — and of course multiple glasses of wine along the way. Pictures from this exciting event after the jump...

Earlier this year, I visited Mario Batali and Nancy Silverton's famed Los Angeles eatery Pizzeria Mozza with my two friends Kat and Cat, who introduced me to the restaurant's butterscotch budino for dessert. The experience was just a hair short of orgasmic. I could not stop raving about the rich, decadent dessert, and when I later learned that it was a signature item on the menu beloved by many, many patrons, I was far from surprised. The dessert is in fact so notoriously wonderful that its recipe was printed in the New York Times.

Well, the day after our meal, Cat sent me the aforementioned budino recipe (budino, fyi, is basically Italian pudding) and dared me to make it (at which point it was understood that Cat and Kat would then trek to my apartment and sample the good for themselves). There was only one problem: I had a debilitating fear of making caramel — something this recipe required at two different junctures. All the bubbling and scalding liquid, not to mention the threat of burning the sugar and/or scalding my hands — it just seemed too advanced for me. But after having made two apple tarte tatins this week, both requiring the creation of caramel, I've been emboldened. At last I felt ready to take on the budino.

Before I go any further, however, I have to take a moment to address my mother, who is undoubtedly reading this right now. Mom, what you are about to see is not for the faint of heart. It is probably the most cholesterol-laden dish I've ever made in my life. But do not worry: I don't plan to eat it all (at least not in one sitting), and I continue to lead an otherwise healthy lifestyle.

Now that all disclaimers are out of the way for concerned parents, let's move on to all the exciting pictures.

Apple tarte Tatin.

About a week and a half ago, I finally got a cast-iron skillet (thanks Mom and Dad!), and ever since then, I've been eager to use it. I made a grilled cheese on it (the bread browned perfectly!), a batch of shrimp piri-piri (best batch yet!), and now last night, I tried my hand at apple tarte Tatin. I'd been intrigued by the dish ever since I saw Anne Burrell on the Food Network make it a few months ago, but alas, without an oven-proof pan, I hadn't the opportunity to make it myself.

Well, with the arrival of my skillet (as well as a piece in the New York Times about the art of the Tatin), my interest in tarte Tatin was rekindled. I first dipped my toes in the Tatin waters this weekend when I made an apple cake "tatin" for a Barefoot Contessa potluck dinner. A simplified version of the real thing, Ina's Tatin has you simply pour a caramel sauce over apples in a pie pan, top with cake batter, and stick it in the oven for forty-minutes. Don't get me wrong — the results were delicious. However, most other Tatin recipes I'd seen on the Internets called for really browning the apples in the caramel before going into the oven. I wanted to try the method. Plus, as previously mentioned, I felt compelled to incorporate my skillet into the proceedings.

And so I attempted Anne Burrell's recipe for an Apple Tarte Tatin. The results after the jump...

Back in August, some of my posse convened at a friend's house to have an Ina Garten / Barefoot Contessa potluck dinner party. The results were excellent, and if memory serves me correctly (and it does), I practically had to be wheeled out of the house as all the food was so incredibly delicious that I simply could not restrain from eating it, despite physical limitations of my stomach. It didn't help that I gorged myself on hors d'oeuvres, and let's not talk about how rich all the food was. My gluttony be damned, the entire dinner went off without a hitch. Tasty, easy, fun — how could we not do it again.

And so we all reconvened this weekend, but things did not go as smoothly. There was smoke. There was fire. There were broken pans. And there was dog vomit. It all led up to one question: could Ina's food survive such adverse conditions? The results after the jump.

The terms "Asian" and "pot roast" aren't often found together because according to New York Times culinary star Mark Bittman, "a scarcity of fuel in east Asia precluded long, slow cooking" back in the day. That's all well and good, but you see, I bought these chuck roasts from Costco a few months ago, and now I've gotta use them. I can only make so many traditional, European-style pot roasts (red wine, garlic, onion, carrots, celery). Don't get me wrong — the French and British traditions of pot roasts are lovely — but I love Asian flavor profiles; so off to the Internet I went in search of some sort of Asian-y braise I could apply to mah meat.

Unfortunately, I discovered that there were very few braises that seemed trustworthy. I searched for "Asian pot roast," "Asian short ribs," "Asian braise," etc. etc.. Emeril had an option that looked decent, but then again, so did Mark Bittman (see above link). Plus, I once had used an Aida Mollenkamp Asian short rib recipe that I had found quite delightful; so that was a contender too. After consulting with Sly, Jash, and Erin McChids of Dishwasher Ready, I decided to "hotrod" (as Ina says) the Mollenkamp ribs by adding some elements of the ever-trusted Bittman Asian pot roast recipe along with a few items from my kitchen. Unfortunately, I took no photos of the experience, but I can tell you right now it turned out wonderfully. That's why I'm writing this. It was so good, I felt the need to share what I did so that I can add to the small canon of Asian Pot Roast recipes on the Internet.

Details after the jump.

Last month I headed up to Portland and Seattle for a brief personal holiday of sorts (because we all know how extremely busy I am on a day to day basis), and while in Oregon, I met up with my friend Meeshie for some raucous good times. Of the various adventures we had though, nothing was quite as enjoyable as our day wine tasting in the Portland hinterlands (a day that included a wonderful lunch at Red Lobster — a perpetual vice for me). We didn't go too crazy — only stopping off at two destinations — but spirits were had by all, and since Meeshie's mom was our designated driver, we were able to let loose a bit and indulge in some rather hefty helpings of booze. Needless to say, the spittoons were left empty.

A full photographic essay of our tastings after the jump...

This past weekend, Tony C from Sinosoul gathered several food bloggers together for what promised to be an epic paella feast of massive proportions. I'm not a huge paella person, but the experience seemed random and fun; so I threw caution to the wind, recruited Sly to be my partner in crime, and headed down to the rather industrial trappings of Harbor City for an afternoon lunch of golden rice and savory proteins.

Photos of this adventure after the jump...

Last month, the good people at Jim Beam contacted me about their new product, Red Stag black cherry bourbon. They offered to send me free booze, and of course, who was I to turn that down (memo to other companies: feel free to send me similarly complimentary bottles of spirits). Anyway, this very adult shwag arrived recently, and last night, I finally got around to tasting the stuff, along with my pal IndianJones. Pictures of this momentous occasion after the jump...

There have been many Adventures in Domesticity on this blog, but none rival the size and effort put forth this past weekend in my kitchen. In fact, it was such a process, that multiple kitchens across the city of Los Angeles were employed. Well, only two others really, but that's still legit. Here's the backstory: our old college chum Malibu Judie came to town last week, and we decided that in honor of her presence, we would make fresh cocktails on Saturday afternoon. But alas, it could not be a total celebration as vital clique member IndianJones was out of town on business. We decided that in honor of him, we would whip up some jalapeño cornbread — except we'd actually make ours look good. This way IndianJones could be with us in spirit — something I know we all cherished greatly. Overall, it seemed like a relatively simple and straightforward plan for Saturday.

But then the booze kicked in. You see, we planned this all over margaritas at Lotería Grill in Hollywood, and the drunker we got, the more elaborate our schemes became. We wouldn't just be having jalapeño cornbread. We'd be having jalapeño margaritas too. And jalapeño poppers! And a ceviche! With jalapeños! Yes, it was turning into an Occasion with a capital O, and thus the Jalapeño Cocktail Hour was born. (We could have employed alliteration and called it the Jalapeño Happy Hour, but that would have been base.)

Anyway, on Friday, Malibu Judie and I sat down and browsed both the internet and various cookbooks for noteworthy jalapeño recipes, and once we were satisfied, we compiled a grocery list. But this wasn't just any grocery list. You see, it turns out that Jalapeño Cocktail Hour happened to land on the same weekend as an Ina Garten Potluck Dinner Party — one where every guest brings a dish from the Barefoot Contessa's deep catalogue. Cocktails? Ina? It was a perfect storm of domesticity, and as such, Malibu Judie and I not only had to shop for Saturday, but for Sunday too. It was insanity. Long story short: on Friday alone, Malibu Judie and I bought thirty-three pounds of fresh produce (and two pounds of shrimp). Being the frugal shoppers that we are, however, we only spent $40 total. How did we do it? Well, the first part of this weekend-long, monster-sized Adventure in Domesticity is after the jump...

My friend IndianJones is a surprisingly adept chef. Despite questionable knife skills (he fears chopping his already small digits off), he can put together a solid meal. Heck, the kid can even bake a thing or two (he supplied our clique, a.k.a. the Lametourage, with homemade soda bread on St. Patty's Day). But IndianJones's recent exploits have left him the butt of our jokes. Take a look at the dish above and try to guess what exactly it is. A pizza? A cookie? Some sort of Hindu specialty? The answer isn't terribly difficult, but I'm intrigued to see what people might think it is out of context. If you already have advance knowledge from Facebook, don't spoil it.

After the jump is a second photo. All guesses and descriptions are welcome...

When I went out of town last week, I left the horticultural needs of my apartment in the good hands of my friend jash, who has done an absolutely stellar job of keeping my rosemary, thyme, basil, and chives alive. The fact that I even have so many plants is a bit mindblowing to me, but that's neither here nor there. Unfortunately, jash cruelly neglected my scallions, which had been perched quietly on a window sill, yearning for nothing but water. To jash's credit, I had drawn the blinds, and thus the scallions were essentially hidden from view of the apartment, but that being said, he is still a scallion murderer through and through as his inattentiveness yielded a veritable scallion GENOCIDE here in Hollywood.

Perhaps it's all for the best though. The experiment had indeed run its course, and after having used one or two stalks last week in a tuna salad, I came to the following conclusion: scallions DO regrow and DO maintain their flavor. However, it takes quite a while for them to get decent-sized, which can be a problem because ideally, I'd want to always be able to turn to my scallion vase and pluck upwards of five stalks at any given time (some recipes call for a lot). If I were to grow scallions in this way, I'd basically have to just start with a whole bunch — maybe twenty or so — and hopefully that would be enough to maintain a proper cycle wherein by the time I've harvested the last scallion, the first ones have totally re-grown. This, of course, would require a larger vase, and honestly, I'm not sure I'm ready to devote such funds to this endeavor. But I'm not counting it out. I need to think this through.

In the meantime, after the jump check out one more photo of the scallions' dried up roots. It's horrifying. I added water back into the vase just in case it would solve something, but I think the writing's on the wall. These plants need to go...

As I mentioned yesterday, I went to the Silver Lake farmers market over the weekend, and not only did I bring home crabs — the edible kind — but I also emerged with three varieties of plants: rosemary, thyme, and chives. I'm all about saving money, and if I can grow these herbs instead of purchasing them overpriced at the supermarket, that's what I'm gonna do. Besides, they smell great, and in the famously pleasant Los Angeles weather, I know I'll be able to maintain them all year long — assuming I don't MURDER them with ineptitude (which is a huge possibility).

Of course, once I bought the plants, I then had to procure several accompanying items: soil, pots, trays, etc.. It turned out to be a minor endeavor, but somehow I persevered. After the jump, several pictures of the process, courtesy of jash.

Saturday in Los Angeles was one of those perfect, sunny Southern California days, and so when my friends Jash and Sly informed me that they were heading off to Silver Lake for the farmer's market, I was more than happy to tag along for fun. You see, I'm notoriously ineffective at farmer's markets. I tend to get overwhelmed with choices, eventually leading to a general central nervous system breakdown that leaves me confused, clammy, and just a tad sleepy. My biggest problem is that I'm a recipe guy. I have little to no cooking sense, and therefore I rely almost exclusively on other people's directions. That's why when I wander into a veritable bazaar of fresh produce such as the farmer's market, I rarely know what the hell to get. Sure, there are some no-brainers — corn on the cob is always welcomed. But do I need tomatoes? Or cucumbers? Or any number of the strange items being hawked by the farmers of California? I just don't know.

This trip to the farmer's market, however, proved to be surprisingly bountiful and inspriational. Not only did I come across a neat variety of herbs (which I eventually bought and planted — more on that later), but I stumbled upon the one thing I had been craving for about two months now: SOFT SHELL CRABS. Yes, those elusive yet delicious crustaceans are a true favorite of mine, and given that they're highly seasonal and rarely found here in Los Angeles, this turn of events elicited major, major excitement from me. I immediately called over Sly and Jash to show them my discovery, and they too became quite excited. I opted to buy two of the little, freshly-molted guys; Sly went for one; and Jash, who appreciated the situation, decided to sit this crabfest out.

And so we set a plan in motion: we would repair back to my abode and cook up the crabs for what would surely be a lunch to remember. Pictures — including some slightly graphic crab decapitation shots — after the jump...

As many of my friends (and now readers) know, I have a penchant for Korean food. Actually, I have a penchant for Asian food in general, and when I find myself a few drinks deep at the end of the night, I like nothing more than to venture into Los Angeles's famed K-Town (a.k.a. Koreatown) for some BBQ or tofu or pho (and yes, I realize pho is Vietnamese). Unfortunately, I can't always find a driver or willing participants for such activities, and such was the case Friday night when I found myself stranded at my apartment with no mode of transportation to ferret me to and fro the late night eateries just east of Western Avenue. What to do? Well, after calling three or four people, I took matters into my own hands. I strutted down to Ralph's, which is open twenty-four hours, and purchased a small jar of overpriced kimchi at 1:45 AM. I returned to my apartment, consulted a cookbook, and in about four minutes, I had a delectable late night snack.

Photos after the jump...

Last week I kick-started Project Scallion, a nifty experiment that would test the proposed theory that green onions would re-generate themselves if the bulbs were placed in water. All appearances seem to suggest that the answer is yes; although, the success of Project Scallion cannot be gauged until a full stalk has grown AND been deemed tasty. I haven't reached that point yet, but in the meantime, the scallions continue to thrive — so much so that I felt compelled to upgrade their habitat from a random, pebble-painted glass to a full-fledged vase. One trip to Ikea with Sly and IndianJones later, and my scallions were ready for a Beyoncé upgrade.

The new and improved vase lifestyle after the jump...

Scallions can really be a pain in my ass sometimes. If you buy too many, they wilt. If you buy too few, you run out. It's a balancing act that can drive a man to tears, but thankfully, I think I've stumbled upon a solution. You see, during last week's episode of Next Food Network Star, one of the contestants imparted a helpful tip to the audience: if you stick the white bulbs of a scallion in a cup of water, the stalk will grow back. Could it be? Does a solution so simple truly exist? Might this signal the end of my scallion woes?

Well, after some cross-referencing with the Internet — which is always factual — it seemed like yes, this method does work. I couldn't wait to try it. Luckily, my Korean burrito adventure last week required the use of many scallions. I was sure to save the bulbs and place them in a glass of water on my windowsill. This would be an experiment of the ages, and as such, I've decided to document it religiously here on the blog in what I call Project Scallion.

The experiment, which is only four and a half days old, has already proven to be quite exciting. Images after the jump...

Oh hai!

Los Angeles has been undergoing a major fusion craze for a few months now, courtesy of Kogi's Taco Truck, which has made Asian tacos all the rage. I haven't actually partaken in Kogi-mania as the reported one hour lines (not to mention surly public relations staff) seem a bit much for a few meager tacos — especially when one can just as easily waltz into one of the many, many Korean eateries here in L.A.. Still, I respect the idea behind Kogi's taco truck, which is why last night, when I fired up some homemade Korean bbq of my own, I decided to change things up and go (drumroll please) FUSION!

Yes, that's right. I decided to forgo the taco truck experience and instead do my own thang. Truth was I already had some daeji bulgogi marinating in the fridge, and as dinnertime approached, I realized I didn't want to have the same old bowl of meat-on-rice. How to switch it up? Well, I'd throw a tortilla into the mix. And so the daeji bulgogi burrito was born. Well, not born. I'm sure others have made it. But this was its grand debut, as it were, in my kitchen. My creative process after the jump.

Well, it's been nearly two weeks since I've purchased my basil plant, and I'm happy to announce that not only is it alive, but it's been put to good use. This is shocking because let's face it, I have a terrible track record with plants (see The Parsley Chronicles). Making matters worse is that my basil plant is currently housed in a remote corner of my balcony. Specifically, it's behind a satellite dish and out of everyday view, and as a result, I frequently forget to water the plant and have made on more than one occasion an emergency trip outdoors at 3 AM with a glass of water for my thirsty little herb pot. It can be very stressful.

Despite my neglect, the latchkey basil has fended well for itself. I've harvested it a couple of times, and if anything, that's where the drama comes into play. I apparently made the most egregious affront to the pesto community ever. Details and photos after the jump...

Late last week, when I heard that Top Chef superstar Fabio Viviani would be in the neighborhood doing a cooking demonstration for something called Top Chef: The Tour, I knew I had to find a way to see it. The event was booked up, but thanks to the good people at Bravo, they found a way to get me on the list. And boy am I glad that I did. Not only was Fabio there, but so was Top Chef top chef Hosea Rosenberg. Plus, we audience members scored some free food (woot!) and some lovely shwag courtesy of Directv and Quaker Oats. Not a bad way to pass an hour in Los Angeles.

The other day, my friend Howie announced that the Artisan Cheese Gallery would be serving his self-created sandwich vision, simply titled "The Howie." I had no idea what the Artisan Cheese Gallery was, but after some thorough investigation (ie. reading more than the first line of his email), I discovered that it was a neat restaurant / gourmet shop in Studio City that's been throwing some sort of sandwich making contest on Twitter. Anyway, Howie submitted his concoction (hence "The Howie"), and on Saturday it was featured on the restaurant's menu to wide acclaim. I unfortunately was not able to partake in the festivities, which was most sad not because I wanted to support a friend, but because the sandwich looked really, really good. How good? Well, it's roast beef, gorgonzola, and caramelized onions on a ciabatta that's gone through a panini press. Oh, and it's served au jus. Needless to say, I was most bummed to have missed it.

However, when Howie revealed via Twitter that the sandwich would be making a return appearance today, I knew I couldn't let the opportunity pass. I zipped over the hills, met up with Howie and his friend Nick, and headed over to the Artisan Cheese Gallery. The experience was remarkable. I cannot extol the virtues of Howie's creation widely enough. It was totally delicious, thanks in large part to the Artisan Cheese Gallery, which crafted each sandwich with extremely high quality ingredients. I'm not endorsing this sandwich because Howie made it. I'm endorsing it because it's just awesome.

And of course pictures after the jump...

This past winter, I attempted to grow a lush bounty of parsley, only to have it all die off within three months, the victim of my poor farmer skillz (or perhaps Ikea's worthless seeds). We'll never know what exactly went wrong in that lil parsley cup, but I must admit — I was a little scarred by the experience. Could I ever go down such a road again? Invest three months time for something that will be a colossal FAIL?

The answer, of course, is yes.

Recently, I've been looking to start the process over — perhaps with not just parsley, but basil and green onions and dill and thyme. The question, however, was whether or not I'd start the plants from scratch or simply buy one that was already in full-swing. I decided that to honor the process, I would start with seeds — because really, there's no drama in a plant that's already been grown. However, today at Trader Joe's, I came across a big ol' basil plant, and I began to rethink things. For $2.99, I could save myself a few months of work — work that may or may not pay off. The downside would be a loss of a narrative arc (there's much drama in watching a seed bloom into a plant. Much much). But then I remembered something: this is me we're talking about. If anyone's capable of destroying a perfectly healthy plant, it's this moi. The mere act of keeping this horticultural glory alive will be drama enough to warrant its own serialized column. So I present to you the Basil Chronicles, which will follow this basil plant as it inevitably reaches a slow and painful death at my bumbling hands. OR WILL IT? I guess you'll just have to keep coming back to find out.

Currently taking bets on how long the plant will last...

This enrages me. The lovely Liz at Food, She Thought sent a simple email to the publicist for Kogi's Taco Truck (a Korean-BBQ-on-wheels thing here in Los Angeles), and the response was absolutely outrageous. Even if everything this PR person had said was true, there's no good reason for he or she to have actually said it. Memo to publicists: when you have to do damage control for your damage control peeps, that's a bad thing.

Check out the ridiculousness here.

I don't know how it was for the rest of the country, but the weather in LA this past weekend was fantastic, and what better way to enjoy the sunshine than by stepping out and taking a hike? Inspired by a recent post in LAist about hidden staircases in Hollywood, I recruited two fellow hoofers — Lisa Timmons (of Socialite Life) and Bets — to join me as we explored the nooks and crannies of Beachwood Canyon, an area populated by mansions and hidden paths. The journey covered 2.1 miles of territory and over eight hundred stairs total; so as you can imagine, we worked up quite the appetite (not to mention sweat). Pictures of the adventure, including our delicious post-hike lunch as well as a significant double celebrity interaction (ooooh!) and a car wreck (ahhhh!), after the jump...

Last weekend I returned from a rousing night out with my friends quite drunk and quite hungry, and in such situations, it's not uncommon for me to summon a sober party and request transport to the nearest late night eatery, particularly if it means venturing into Koreatown for some late night galbi, bulgogi, tofu, or pho. However, as I am trying to be thrifty of late, I decided I would make do with some drunken snacks of my own making. But what to have? My apartment has been a bit under-stocked recently, and the options for homemade vittles were few and far between. But then I got to thinking: I really wanted Korean food, and I had all these Korean ingredients in my fridge, and furthermore, I had just recently made this neat recipe for dinner that I could surely whip up again. And so it was decided: I would be cooking SQUID.

Yes, in a strange turn of events, I happened to have half a bag of frozen squid rings in the freezer. That was all I needed to get this party started. So even though I was probably in no state to be cooking, let alone near an open flame, I got out my wok and went to work. Photos of this most peculiar adventure after the jump...

I found this video of a local Thai woman making Pad Thai to be oddly transfixing and somewhat informative too. Of course, it's also a bit unsettling as various health codes fall by the wayside, but hey, when in Bangkok...

Thanks to Tony at Sinosoul for the link.

With swine flu making travel to Mexico ¡muy off limits!, my friends and I thought we'd bring some South of the Border action to Hollywood last night by whipping up a minor Mexican feast at mi casa. It all started when my friend Bets revealed that she had a bunch of avocados that needed to be used. This naturally led to guacamole fantasies, and from there, an entire menu was devised. On tap for us: guacamole, grilled corn salad with queso fresco and lime, and something called chilaquiles, which I soon learned was like a big, flat, casserole version of an enchilada — or Mexican lasagna as I termed it in my head (probably incorrectly because I'm sure there's something out there called Mexican lasagna already). Needless to say, we had our work cut out for us.

After the jump, photos of our cooking experience.

Food2, an offshoot of the Food Network, just launched a new web series called Kelsey & Spike Cook in which Food Network Star contestant Kelsey Nixon goes toe to toe with the beloved Spike Mendelsohn of Top Chef fame. It's nice to see Kelsey again, but seriously, we really only care about Spike. He's the only reality star who can wear a stupid fedora and not incur my wrath. Why? Because he's awesome. And he totally overpowers Kelsey in this first video. She does her best to keep up, but he simply has more charisma (not to mention a more appealing culinary point of view) than she. I will say that Spike seems a bit stiff at the top of the video, but he eventually gets into the flow, and either way, they're both likable, albeit oddly paired; so take a look if you're bored.

Update: Apparently the video above was broken; so I took it down. Go to Food2 and check out all the action.

Back in October of last year, I detailed a particularly enjoyable yet sweaty trip to Jitlada Thai Cuisine, a restaurant that is widely regarded as one of the best Thai eateries in Los Angeles. This is thanks in part to its unique Southern Thai menu whose famously delicious (and notoriously spicy) offerings have been well documented by Chowhound, Yelp, LA Weekly, and just about any enclave of the Internet prone to discussing such things. Needless to say, it's an experience.

Well, after having checked out my perspiration-filled adventures at Jitlada, Tony at the food blog SinoSoul contacted me about getting together with a bunch of discerning bloggers for a full-on feast at the storied Thai restaurant. It sounded very exclusive, and as one might expect, I thrive on exclusivity. Throw in the opportunity to sample the sundry items of Jitlada's menu, and I was sold. Little did I realize that I would soon be spending nearly four hours in a chair, stuffing my face with seventeen different courses of food, the majority of which were spicy enough to send my regulatory system into overdrive on at least three or four different occasions.

In other words, it was awesome. Pictures and details after the jump...

It was 3:30 in the afternoon. I received a message from my friend Bets, who had sent me a recipe for Indian pulled pork sandwiches. "Dude, make this. the picture alone sells me on it," she wrote. I glanced at the recipe: slow cooked pork? Indian spices? An excuse to use my dutch oven? I was sold. I told Bets I'd gladly oblige her request, but when? "Tonight," she wrote back eagerly. That worked for me. I had nearly all the ingredients (save mustard seeds). I told her to come on over, and next thing I knew, I was throwing an informal dinner party. On the menu: Indian pulled pork sandwiches with homemade potato chips on the side. In attendance: me, Bets, Lisa Timmons (from Socialite Life and lisatimmons.com, and eventually Jash. And on tap: lots of laughter and jolly good times.

But a question remains: would this third foray into pork be as successful as my other two? Pictures and details after the jump...

Oh, do I have a treat for all of you today! Behold the beauty that is Daeji Bulgogi!

As many of you probably know, I have a certain soft spot for Korean food. Basically, I love it. In fact, I purchased a Korean cookbook earlier this week, and I truly can't wait for it to arrive. Literally. I can't wait. That's why last night I up and cooked myself a wonderful Korean dish — the aforementioned Daeji Bulgogi. Up until about two years ago, I was a strictly beef galbi and beef bulgogi guy at the Korean restaurants (check out this post of me making galbi last summer). Then my friend turned me onto the wonderful world of daeji. For the uninitiated, daeji apparently means "pork," but if you assumed pork bulgogi is just like regular beef bulgogi, you'd be sorely mistaken. Daeji bulgogi has a completely different marinade. Well, it's not that different, but you'd certainly never confuse the two.

Anyway, when my friend encouraged me to try daeji bulgogi, I was skeptical that it could be as good as galbi or beef bulgogi. I quickly proven wrong. Daeji bulgogi is the shit (pardon my French), and I think I might even like it more than regular beef bulgogi. Can't say if it's better than galbi though. Those are fightin' words.

More daeji adventures after the jump...

If I do say so myself, on Sunday night I made quite the hearty meal. The menu was rather simple: pork milanese with a steamed artichoke on the side. However, what made this meal particularly noteworthy was that it was the first time I'd ever cooked pork (bad Jew, apologies). Fear not, though. The experience was delightful. And let's not overlook those artichokes. My friend Bets bought me two beauties at the Santa Monica Farmer's Market, and these bad boys were just too amazing to be denied. And so even though I've detailed my adventures with artichokes before (with a very similar menu, I might add), I decided to take pics again just because.

Photos of the cooking adventure after the jump...

About a week ago, some people came over to my apartment, and we had the most delightful time making what we later called (perhaps unoriginally) the Fresh Cocktail Hour. Basically, with the help of plenty of fresh produce from the Farmer's Market (not to mention some homemade horseradish), we made Bloody Marys, guacamole, and a lovely salad. Never before has getting drunk felt so healthy.

In attendance were Sly, her friend Aletheia, Tobin, IndianJones, and Brother of IndianJones (although, the Indians didn't arrive until the tail-end; so they barely should even get credit for being there — but I'll give IndianJones his tag regardless). Anyway, as there were multiple concoctions happening, we busted out the camera and documented it all (or as much as we could remember to). Pictures of the excitement after the jump...

Recently, I've become enamored by Mark Bittman's New York Times blog, Bitten, and last week, when I needed to make myself dinner, I decided to give one of his recipes a try. The attempt: chili-fried shrimp. A mixture of dried chilies, orange, scallions, and shrimp, this dish looked like it would be right up my alley — and none too hard to boot.

The results of this latest experiment after the jump...

The general consensus is that my first horseradish video didn't quite live up to the hype. I kind of agree; so I went ahead and shot another video of me eating the dastardly root. Again, I'm not sure if it's the most violent reaction out there, but I did manage to look like I was going to hurl a few times, and really, that's gotta be worth something. Nevertheless, I think this is it for me and horseradish videos for the time being; so if you're still disappointed, I regret to inform you that you'll just have to live with those emotions.

I was bored on Friday and procrastinating from my important obligations (work, taxes); so I decided to shoot this little, self-indulgent video of me eating horseradish on my webcam. I'm not sure it adequately captures the sinus-clearing pain that one feels upon ingesting the near toxic condiment, but maybe it will give you a vague sense of the discomfort.

(And for all you wondering, I made Sly and IndianJones try the horseradish this weekend, and they too were quite taken aback by the sensation. Sly in particular had a rather violent, borderline-seizure reaction during one of her mouthfuls, forcing her to double over and hack for a good five or six seconds. It was great.)

Apparently today is horseradish day at B-Side Blog. After I mentioned in my previous post that NikkiSpice and I had challenged each other to down as much horseradish as possible, she reminded me that she was actually only an innocent bystander to this masochistic game. The real action occurred between me and my friend Zimmho, with NikkiSpice merely serving as the referee / photographer. Conveniently, she had some pics of the event on her hard drive, and so she sent them to me in honor of these horseradish memories. So let's take a trip back to 2003 and witness my grandmother's horseradish in action yet again...

The general rule of thumb is to never go into a supermarket hungry. Well, that's what I did earlier this week, and predictably I emerged with a food item that was perhaps not the most practical purchase of all time: a horseradish root. To be fair, I truly enjoy horseradish, and I'd wanted to make it ever since my mom told me how a few years ago, but I never got around to whipping up the lethal condiment because, well, there was never really any good reason for it. What am I going to do? Make a batch of horseradish for the fun of it? Well, turns out the answer is yes.

With hunger pangs overwhelming my better judgment, I decided that some fresh horseradish would be a LOVELY thing to make, even if it had limited applications. I procured the notorious tuber, fetched some vinegar, and then set off to make what would be a rather torturous dish. Tears and discomfort ensued...

Yesterday, I received a new dutch oven (technically a risotto pot), and in honor of this new, formidable piece of equipment, I knew I just had to braise something. But what? Well, I turned on the television, and there was Tyler Florence whipping up a pot roast. I wouldn't say that it's my favorite meal of all time, but there was a certain element of kismet that I couldn't deny in watching TAHLAH (as I've called him ever since an old Asian woman on his show yelled out his name in similar fashion). Anyway, I went off to the store, bought a two pound chuck roast, some veggies, and got to work.

The results? Well, they're after the break.

SOMEONE CALL THE CDC!!!!

I did some grocery shopping at Fresh & Easy in Hollywood, and one of the things I purchased was some fresh thyme that I'd be using with dinner. Well, after I'd thrown four or five sprigs into the pot, I set about freezing the rest — an arduous process that would have me pulling the leaves off all the stems in the package. Everything seemed to be going fine until I saw the above monstrosity amidst my herbal refuge. HORRIFYING!

Is this a normal thing? Am I being a pansy? I should note that the herbs are organic; so I suppose anything goes with THAT.

UPDATE: Jash says that bugs are good for herbs and that in the future, I should be more diligent with my washing and shaking of the thyme. Crisis averted, I suppose.

Via D-Listed

Reality Blurred: 13th finalist will get a different, non-sex number; Fox exec: “we knew” IDOLS-13 wasn’t available
Lisa Timmons: Creation of Shia
LA Rag Mag: Amazing Race Winner Eric Sanchez's Naughty Webcam Photos!!!
Midseason Replacements: AMERICA’S NEXT TOP MODEL: THE FALL OF TYRA
TV Week: Defeating the DVR to Promote Shows
Socialite Life: 'Gossip Girl' Star Arrested
Flickr: Feb09 757
Franklin Avenue: Spot Today's Downsized L.A. Times Mistake
Jokers Updates: Big Brother Casting Has Begun
LAist: Man Dies After Eating Mushrooms Picked in a Park

It's been a while since I've written about my cooking, but fear not, I'm still attempting all sorts of exotic dishes in my humble kitchen, and yes, most of them turn out bright orange. Case in point: this Brazilian Shrimp Stew recipe that I found on Epicurious. As most of my culinary adventures are inspired by television, this dish from south of the Equator came about in my attempt to whip something up in honor of Survivor's new season set in the Brazilian highlands. I was hoping to cook this for the season premiere, but, well, I didn't. Instead, I think I had some sort of spinach concoction (which was quite good, I should add. I'll have to publish that experience at a later date). Anyway, just because I was too lazy to cook this on the season premiere night didn't mean that I was going to give up on it altogether. I eventually got my act together and tackled the recipe — with quite delightful results, I might add. The photos after the jump...

UGH. My quest for a free Angry Whopper has become a drawn out affair, no thanks to Burger King, which seems unwilling to hold up its end of the bargain. After four weeks had gone by since I'd dropped ten friends from Facebook as per the rules of the promotion, I decided to call up Burger King headquarters to find out where the EFF my Angry Whopper was. I spoke to a lovely woman named Wilmarie, who informed me that the mistake would be rectified and that Burger King would be sending me a coupon right away. At last, it seemed like I'd be making headway. I then spent the next seven days furiously checking my mailbox hoping that maybe, just maybe this Angry Whopper saga could be put to an end.

WELL. Today, I was delighted to see an unassuming envelope from Burger King sitting in my mailbox. Ahhhh... sweet, sweet victory. I was so excited that I almost blasted off a mobile "tweet" right then and there to proclaim my joy at having finally received a free Angry Whopper. But then I opened up the envelope, and inside was a generic apology letter — no surprise there — and a coupon for one free... Whopper. Not an Angry Whopper, mind you. Just a regular, run-of-the-mill, emotionally neutral Whopper. Normally, this would be ground for celebration and tears, but alas, I now find myself in a bizarrely awkward situation: should I be grateful for what I have and simply enjoy my free burger in peace? Or should I demand the specific bounty which I am owed? I feel ungrateful for complaining, but I also feel cheated by sitting here quietly. What say you, oh readers from the Internets?

In the meantime, I will try to use the coupon to score the Angry Whopper. After all, "Whopper" might just be an umbrella term, in which case... never mind!

Developing...

As you all know, I'm a huge fan of my friend Mark and Leslie's cakes (they run the bakery Mark Joseph Cakes). They are most famous on this site for their R2D2 Cake, which still draws two hundred new readers a day, and now Mark has sent me this photo of an Oscar cake he made this weekend. It looks awesome. If you're interested in a similar cake (or a wedding cake or a birthday cake or just a cake in general — who wouldn't want that?), be sure to check out their website and give Mark and Leslie a call. Tell them I sent you!

Oops. I accidentally caused a minor conflagration in my toaster oven today when I took my eyes off some would-be pita chips for just a tad too long. Luckily, I've been classically trained in such emergency situations, and I knew to simply unplug the toaster oven and just sit there while the fire raged on quietly, destroying what could have been a wonderful display of pita goodness. It was a rare display of calm by me, as I've been prone to get all sorts of cowardly in the face of impromptu fires (and yes, I made sure to have my flour handy just in case things got out of hand). The good news is that aside from some dark residue on the oven door, there didn't seem to be much by way of damage. Nevertheless, this is an unfortunate blight on what was otherwise quite a perfect batch of pita chips.

To see the pita chips post-inferno, click ahead...

My friends, my friends. This is a sad day indeed. Today marks the official end of The Parsley Chronicles. That's right: my beloved parsley — the plant that could never be — finally ceased showing any signs of life today. The Obama Sprout, once a beacon of hope and prosperity, shriveled up and died, leaving no future for this once promising cup of life. Back in November when I started this experiment, I naturally assumed I'd be sitting here twelve weeks later with a lush bounty of herbal goodness on my window sill, but alas, it appears such grandiose dreams are only for the misguided and homeless.

Now I'm left with just a quiet cup of soil — the ghosts of parsley sprouts lingering inside. It's been an exciting journey for sure. There were those questionable first few weeks when it seemed like perhaps my seeds would never bear fruit. Then there was the exciting month of December when a verdant fomentation took hold of the cup. And, of course, there was the sudden White Plague that gripped the plant in the new year — a mysterious ailment that turned all the leaves pale and withered them down to the dirt from whence they came. I'll never know what went wrong with my little guys, but I refuse to take any responsibility in their demise. I was good farmer, I tell you. If anything, the blame lies squarely with Ikea for providing substandard specimens. Need proof? The same exact thing happened to my friend Jash's Ikea basil. Part of me thinks I should get my money back from the Swedish home furnishing giant. Yes, that's what I'll do. And I'll lead a crusade on behalf of all the other well-intentioned customers who found themselves with dysfunctional seeds. My life's mission has now become so clear. Yes, I'm going to be the Erin Brockovitch of minor horticultural woes.

In the meantime, let's take a look at the final days of the parsley. Some tearjerking photos after the jump, as well as a tribute video that you all ought to see.

Last week, while doing a random search for some random thing, I came across a blog called Fat Free Vegan Kitchen, which boasted an appealing recipe for chocolate orange Bundt cake. Now, when it comes to desserts, I'm not a huge fan of fat free offerings as they're usually dry and flavorless, but the pictures on the site looked appealing, and the myriad of positive comments from various readers indicated that this recipe might just be above reproach. For whatever reason, I decided I was going to take on the fat free vegan cake — even though I'd never baked a cake that didn't come from a box (and I'd like to amend that I exclude cheesecakes and tartlettes from this proclamation as neither item requires much by way of rising). At best, I'd have a new recipe I could add to the canon — and one with no fat and zero cholesterol to boot. At worst, I'd have wasted my time but learned some valuable life lessons about baking, veganism, and the Internet.

The exciting and chocolaty journey after the jump...

OH REALLY?

Last month, I dutifully dropped ten people from Facebook with the promise of receiving a free Angry Whopper from Burger King. Much to my shock, when I had completed the deed, I received a message saying my gift certificate would be arriving in two to four weeks. I wasn't happy with the lack of instant gratification, but nonetheless, I've sat here quietly, checking my mail excitedly (seriously) every day for the past two weeks. Well, tomorrow marks the four week anniversary of me earning my Angry Whopper stripes, and I have yet to receive my gift certificate. WTF? Seeing that the Angry Whopper is being touted as merely a "Limited Time Only" item, I will be quite, quite angry indeed if this burger disappears before I get to redeem my coupon. Cosmic justice for dropping friends from Facebook? Perhaps. I like to think of it as corporate malfeasance. Maybe even fraud.

You owe me, BK. You owe me.

Last time on The Parsley Chronicles, I took drastic measures to save my ailing parsley plant by engaging in some painful, yet necessary pruning. The hope was to clear away the dead, bad vegetation and leave room for the few remaining bright spots to grow boundlessly. As a result, I was left with a near empty cup of soil, but all hope was not lost. I still had the Obama Sprout — a resilient, green sprout that seemed poised to restore life to its destitute environment.

Yes, it appeared as though a new era of verdant prosperity might be upon us soon, but as the days went by, I discovered that perhaps not even the Obama Sprout can take on the deadly forces of nature inside that God forsaken Ikea planter cup...

Guess what? Today is World Nutella Day! That's right, today is the day we celebrate Nutella, that glorious blend of hazelnuts, cocoa, and skim milk. The spread, which has been a childhood favorite of mine ever since I tried it at my friend Ed's house, can be used in many different ways, but usually, I just add it to toast, which honestly is good enough. But don't take my word for it. Other notable Nutella enthusiasts include B-Side Blog regulars IndianJones and Bets, and if it's good enough for them, well, then it's good enough for America.

Anyway, the point of this post is not to shill Nutella, but to spread the word about this momentous day. There's actually a website devoted to this possibly-not-quite-official holiday, which has various links to various Nutella outposts from various corners throughout the various Interwebs. Had I been slightly more intrepid, I would have attempted to create some fascinating Nutella-based confection, but alas, I had no time (a Nutella tart recipe I found on the Internet certainly piqued my interest...).

For those who wish to see some Nutella action shots, I have a few pics after the jump...

My recent adventures in domesticity have been rather complex affairs involving multiple exotic ingredients and often a few hours of cook time. That's why I decided to simplify things with a less grandiose endeavor: hummus! This Middle-Eastern treat requires only a few elements: tahini, garbanzo beans, olive oil, salt, and garlic. How hard could it be?

This would be a piece of cake. OR WOULD IT?

Who would have thought the Parsley Chronicles would become such a dramatic saga? Here I thought it would be an amusing photographic journey from seed to plant, but instead, it's turned into a roller coaster ride of expectations and dreams — all of which seem poised to come crashing down at any moment.

Last week, the Obama Sprout brought hope and optimism to my cup of fledgling parsley. Alas, while I still maintain hope, it's become apparent to me that hope alone will not save this poor plant. That's why today, I took matters into my own hands and attempted a Hail Mary procedure in an effort to revive this parsley to its fullest potential.

The gritty photos after the jump...

After making shrimp piri piri last week, I found myself craving chiles, which is odd because it's never really been something I've ever craved before. Well, never one to ignore my desires, I did some research on Epicurious and came across an intriguing dish called "Adobo Chicken in Parchment." The recipe is fairly self-explanatory: make some adobo sauce, place it with some chicken in parchment paper, and steam it for two hours.

Sounded simple enough — and healthy too. Why not give it a whirl!

Previously on The Parsley Chronicles, all hope seemed to be lost for my once bountiful cup of parsley. However, I noticed one sturdy, colorful sprout and realized that maybe there was hope for this plant after all. It's a funny thing — hope. The word seems to get thrown around so often, but now that Obama's in the White House, I can't help but feel that maybe, just maybe, he might be empowering this parsley to make a comeback, all through the power of hope. After all, if anything could symbolize the past ten years, it's this parsley: excitement, success, and growth followed by stagnancy, decay, and general sadness. The new sprout is the new hope. IT'S THE OBAMA OF HERBS!!!!

Or so it seemed. Has the Obama sprout followed through with its promise and potential? Pictures after the jump...

After spending an afternoon stewing half the ingredients in my kitchen to make Beef Rendang, I was in the mood last night to cook something up a bit easier. You know, like shrimp. Turns out last month while I was investigating African dishes for my failed attempt at a Survivor: Gabon tie-in, I came across a nifty South African dish on Epicurious.com called prawns peri peri (or piri piri, as it's also spelled). I contemplated cooking it up as the ingredients were far from demanding (prawns/shrimp, garlic, oil, lemons, chiles, etc.), but as part of the recipe, you've got to make a batch of peri peri sauce. Again, not very difficult at all (just add chiles, garlic and lemon rind to oil and shake), but I was afraid that after I made the dish, I'd be left with all this sauce and nothing to do with it. Nevertheless, I tabled the dish for the time being while I contemplated whether or not I wanted an extra bottle of peri peri sauce lingering around.

A few weeks later, I happened to catch that show Ask Aida on the Food Network, and lo and behold, she was making shrimp piri piri (hers were piri piri, not peri peri). Her recipe was somewhat different than the Epicurious one (not by much), but what attracted me to it were the amazing colors it seemed to have. You guessed it: vibrant orange — the magical color that all my food seems to take on these days. More importantly, Ms. Mollenkamp's recipe didn't require me to create a batch of piri piri sauce. I was sold.

My attempts to do the piri piri after the jump...

Just when you thought I was done cooking up ethnic food, here I come once again with another attempt to harness another culture in my humble kitchen. This time I took on the beast that is beef rendang, a Malaysian/Indonesian dish that seems to involve every spice under the sun. I was inspired by a commenter here who suggested I try it, and since I'd never heard of rendang, I looked it up on the internet. The more I read about it, the more delicious it looked. Therefore, I decided to give it a whirl on Thursday and see what I could pull off. The results? Well, you'll just have to read to find out.

On last week's edition of The Parsley Chronicles, the previously smooth progress of my parsley took a drastic turn as it was revealed that I had been depriving my plant of the water it so desperately needed. I've since been more attentive to the moistness of the parsley's soil, but I fear the damage my plant suffered may have been critical. Growth is slow, leaves look unhealthy, and the general aura in the cup seems to be one of sadness.

Is there hope?

Well, I have finally sacrificed ten Facebook friends in pursuit of a free Angry Whopper from Burger King. You've all seen who I've cut. Now it's time to reveal the final piece of the puzzle.

Who could be more deserving of a sacrifice than Sherayay? The answer after the jump...

Sacrifice #9: It's none other than Sherayay from The Real Housewives of Atlanta! And who better to go down in flames than the genius behind She By Sherayay? Well, actually, I can think of one more deserving person, but that won't be revealed until tomorrow. I suppose I could tell you today, but that would be like throwing a fashion show with no fashions. And how the hell are you supposed to do that?

In the meantime, let's hope that Sherayay doesn't take this fiery dismissal too harshly. At least she'll still have that big ol' house to live in. OH WAIT.

Welcome to my culinary experiment!

Sadly, it is time for my orange-colored culinary journey around the world to conclude. It started in East Hampton, traveled across the Atlantic to The Gambia, headed west to Thailand, and now retreats back east a little to India, home country of my next endeavor, chicken tikka masala.

I was inspired to try this dish after my friend Eunnok whipped up a batch for himself and posted pics on Facebook. It looked delicious, and he confirmed that it indeed was. He forwarded me the recipe, one thing led to another, and voila, here I am with another Adventure in Domesticity.

We're getting close to the end here. Today I sacrificed Teri (and a wax version of The Rock), which means I only have two more people to destroy. Who will they be? Stay tuned...

In the meantime, BURN, TERI, BURN!!!!!

My orange-colored culinary journey around the world continues! Last week, I detailed my attempts to make butternut squash soup and domoda. Now my cooking adventures take me from East Hampton and Africa all the way to Thailand as I deign to take on one of my favorite curry dishes: panang curry.

Sounds daunting. Will I be up for the challenge? The results after the jump...

As I mentioned last week, Burger King has this nifty new promotion for its new item, the Angry Whopper. Just drop ten friends from Facebook and get a free sandwich! How can I turn that down? Last week, I dispensed of two hapless souls. Over the weekend, I managed to drop four more people. Their identities after the jump...

Last month, while watching Survivor: Gabon, I was inspired to cook an African dish in honor of the veteran reality series wrapping up its run. Unfortunately, I didn't get around to doing this until about a week and a half after Bob walked away with the million dollar prize. No matter, I was still up for the challenge, even if it didn't still quite dovetail with my pop culture pleasures.

Anyway, I got in touch with my college friend Michelle, who spent several years in The Gambia as part of her Peace Corps service. There she met her husband, Malik, and conveniently, his mother happened to have a recipe for Domoda, which is sort of like a peanut beef stew. Michelle passed along details to me, and I valiantly attempted to bring a little piece of Gambia into my kitchen. Was I successful? Keep reading to find out.

My continued orange-colored culinary adventures after the jump...

Second to go down: "Squirtle Squirtle"

Reasoning: This Pokemon-esque creature added me a while back, and for some bizarre reason (probably drunkenness), I added it. I always felt I should drop it, but I knew I'd have to wait for the right moment. I'm glad I waited. 20% there!

First up in flames: the mysterious Lisa!

BURN IN HELL!!!!!

Back in the fall of 2007 while on holiday in Berlin, my friends and I encountered a most amusing item: the ANGRY WHOPPER from Burger King. Back then, we thought this was just some amusing German-to-English translation idiosyncrasy, with the intended descriptor being "Hot & Spicy," not "ANGRY!" We laughed at the name, took a few pictures, and later retold the story many times, chalking it all up to intense Teutonic severity.

A year and a half later, the ANGRY WHOPPER has made its way stateside, and now our story has lost all its caché. Turns out the Angry Whopper really IS called the Angry Whopper. It's not some weird German thing. Oh well. That being said, as part of a clever new promotion, Burger King is giving out free Angry Whoppers if Facebook users are willing to drop ten friends.

You know where this is going.

When it comes to free food, I'm pretty ruthless. But the notion of dropping ten friends is harsh. What to do? Well, I came up with a plan. I'm going to add ten people and then drop them immediately. It's a bit impersonal, but hey, it's what one has to do. The question is, do I seek out randoms or solicit them instead? I've opted for the latter. So here we go: if you know anyone that you think would be a good candidate for me to add and then drop, let me know (I'll keep your participation anonymous)! If I get more than ten, I'll put the names in a hat and see who wins my de-friending lottery!

What's in it for you? Nothing but perverse entertainment. I'll document the process though for a future post.

Because of the holidays, I haven't posted an update on my ongoing series, The Parsley Chronicles (feature film adaptation to star Ben Kingsley and Patti Lupone), but I can assure you there has been plenty of drama. Well, as much drama as a small cup of Ikea parsley can have. Turns out my green thumb turned a bit yellow over the break, and while the plant has certainly grown ever higher, it did so in a hostile environment brought on by yours truly. Yes, that's right. I nearly killed my beloved parsley by neglecting to water it.

But wait! Before you get out your pitchforks and torches and barge down my door, I can explain! You see, it's not that I neglected my parsley. It's just that I was fearful I'd over water it. I am wont to bestow entirely too much affection on things from time to time, and I didn't want my parsley to be victim to that. Plus, I'd heard rumors that I could incubate some harsh strains of mildew that would all but decimate my vulnerable plant; so as you can imagine, I was all turned around with my farmer sense.

The result of my error in judgment after the jump...

For the past two or three weeks, I've been doing a lot of cooking at home, and you know what that means: time for another edition of Adventures in Domesticity! In fact, we'll be having several editions over the next week or so as I've tried my hand at several dishes — almost all of which were both international, and oddly enough, orange in color. Huh.

First up on my pumpkin-colored trip around the world was butternut squash, courtesy of the Hamptons. That's right, I decided to try out a recipe from Ina Garten's cookbook, Back to Basics. It was the least I could do after having waited for hours to get it autographed. My attempt valiant attempt to cook up the soup after the jump...

Last June, I brought you images of an R2-D2 cake baked by my friend Mark Randazzo (with help from his wife Leslie), and within a few days, the thing had gone viral. Well, now I'm proud to announce that according to Starwars.com — the official Star Wars website of Lucasfilm — Mark and Leslie's cake has been deemed one of the top ten Star Wars things of the year! Yay!

I guess I'll take this time to mention yet again that Mark is a tremendous baker, and if you live in the NYC area, you should definitely, definitely check him out (especially if you're in the hunt for a wedding cake). He's been featured in all sorts of magazines and television shows (Today, Food Network Challenge), and as the R2-D2 cake demonstrates, he's got plenty of talent to spare.

Here's the official website: Mark Joseph Cakes

Just under eight weeks ago, as part of a Hills promotional tie-in, I posted a contest imploring people to state their worthiness to win $25 of free Sonic fast food. I really didn't expect much of a response, but I must have vastly overlooked the draw of free food and perhaps underestimated the quality of Sonic (which I still have not tried). Anyway, I received many submissions, and they were all well-written, well-stated, and well-imbued with the sort of sentimental stuff that really pulls the heartstrings.

I had a very difficult time choosing a winner, but alas, the time has come.

The winning entry after the jump...

Big things are happening in the world of parsley — or at least, in the world of MY parsley. The wee sprouts that appeared over Thanksgiving have been growing at a steady pace, so much so that I was able to take the cup off the ball (actually, Jash did it while he was tending to the parsley in my absence, but I would have done it too). No need to aim towards the sun anymore. The parsley is tall enough to get its own rays.

And just how tall are the sprouts? Well, as you can see from the picture above (which was actually taken last week), the first leaf has extended beyond the brim of the cup. It's a brave new world!

A few more pics after the jump...

Since it's been rather cold here in Los Angeles, hitting lows of about 68°, I felt it was imperative that I cook myself a hearty meal for dinner last night. Plus, it was the perfect opportunity to use my new food mill. The menu: red wine braised sausage over a celery root puree. Needless to say, I've come a long way from the Hot Pockets that once defined my cooking abilities.

Here are some pictures from the adventure; although, I'll admit I took very few. I was too busy cooking/being hungry.

In an attempt to spur on continued growth, I aim my parsley in the direction of a man next door who's tending to a rooftop garden. Hopefully this glimpse of homegrown horticulture will inspire my sprouts to grow faster.

Developing...

Happy Thanksgiving from B-Side Blog! Be sure to enjoy plenty of GOOD foodstuffs.

While I've been on the East Coast, my dutiful friend Jash has been checking in on my apartment to ensure that no strange things happen in my absence, and lo and behold, what should he find? The first signs of life from my parsley plant! That's right, the darned thing has started to sprout, and now I can relax knowing that I did, in fact, sow my seeds properly. Soon, this bad boy will be tall enough that I won't need to tilt my plant towards the sun with the assistance of a precarious rubber ball. A Thanksgiving miracle!

Now bring on the sweet, sweet photosynthesis!

Last week, I kicked off a series of reports which will document my progress as an urban farmer growing parsley from my window sill. It was an auspicious start to what I hope will become the most popular blogging series of all time (kind of a sure thing, am I right, people?). Of course, should the Parsley Chronicles fail to catch on, I can rest easy knowing that at the very least, I'll emerge from the experience with some fresh parsley to use with my dinner.

Or will I?

After six days of inactivity from my plastic flower pot, I started to think something was afoot. I asked my friend Jash how his container of basil was coming along, and he proudly announced that it was sprouting already. Hmmmm... That's not right. Mine should be sprouting too. Well, turns out Jash keeps his herb thing on a sill with Southern exposure, thus ensuring it receives sun all day long. Mine, however, faces the East. Clearly my parsley is a bit sun-deprived. That's when I took matters into my own hands...

This past weekend, I headed to the nearby Ikea in search of various household items for my new apartment, and because I'm somewhat clueless when it comes to discount Swedish design, I employed the dutiful help of my friend Jash, who happens to be an expert at all things decor related. Well, as we wended our way through the facility, we eventually came upon a small display of do-it-yourself herb boxes, with each one containing a pellet of soil and seeds — perfect for home-grown vegetation. Jash announced that he was buying one and suggested that I get one too. It seemed like a good idea: I never have fresh herbs available, and whenever I do, half of them usually go bad before I can use them up. However, if I grew my own, I'd not only have them accessible (in ten to twelve weeks), but they'd last longer! Huzzah!

Well, I grabbed the parsley — petroselinum crispum, if you will — and so began the grand experiment: would I be able to successfully grow a bundle of herbs in my apartment? Or would I fail miserably like the horticulturally averse city dweller that I am? I guess we'll all find out because I plan to document the growth (or lack thereof) of my parsley over the next ten to twelve weeks, which is the amount of time Ikea suggests before the parsley is ready for harvesting. Hopefully, great things will come out of this herb adventure.

After the jump, check out the exciting planting process that will lay the foundation for the rest of this series.

Avid followers of The Hills may notice Sonic's various parody ads scattered throughout the telecast on a weekly basis. This is all part of the fast food chain's serialized spoof, titled The Stalls, and in an effort to promote both the ad campaign and their restaurants, the good people of Sonic have sent me a $25 gift certificate for use at my discretion. But not only that, they've included a second $25 gift certificate to give away to my readers. Well, if there's anything I like more than free food, it's giving away free food (except to doe-eyed orphans. Why they gotta be so needy, yo?).

So here's how this will work. If you want the gift certificate, write in with a heartfelt plea, and whoever makes the best case for themselves will win it. Be advised that I may publish your email.

Now, for no reason other than me being bored, please enjoy several photos from The Hills, photoshopped to include milkshakes.

Free Starbucks!

Two weeks ago, I implored all of America to revolt against Starbucks and their straw-destroying lids. I was hoping to generate a crusade or at least a low-grade revolution, but sadly, the cause never really caught on with Digg and whatnot. Still, I got some traction — getting linkage from Eater LA and Serious Eats and some other blogs. Reading the comments on those sites, I was struck by how many people thought it was their fault that they couldn't get their straws through their lids. Fear not, my fellow countrymen. It's not you. It's them. Shame on any corporation who lets the consumer take the blame for their own shortcomings!

Luckily, Starbucks has shown slight remorse. After I complained on their website, a customer representative sent me coupons for two free drinks. This is a step in the right direction. I would like to publicly thank Starbucks for throwing me a minor bone. Of course, while I'm always happy to get free nourishment, but I must face the realization that all I'm going to do is march over to the nearest 'bucks, order a mocha frapuccino, and face the dreaded lid ALL OVER AGAIN. I suppose I could request the alternative domed lid, but honestly, why should I change my habits for their poor plastic choices? I refuse! Vive la resistance!

Nevertheless, I'll keep all updated on the Starbucks front...

Local Los Angeles dining institution Canter's Deli celebrated its 60th Birthday today, and in honor of this milestone age, the owners scaled back prices to 1948 levels. Specifically, that meant lucky diners could get a corned beef sandwich, pickle, side of potato salad, and ruggelach for a meager $.60. That's right. Sixty cents. Never one to turn down such cheap food (especially from an establishment whose sandwiches can be shockingly pricey), I happily sauntered down to the Fairfax district to partake in some discount eats and Los Angeles history.

I kind of expected a long line, but much to my surprise, there were only about twenty or people queued up, pining for entry into the vaunted delicatessen. Even better, it turned out all these people were in the to-go line. I moseyed on up to the front, spoke to the host, and promptly nabbed at seat at the counter, all in a blink of an eye. Near free food and speedy service? Sounds like the perfect way to spend the afternoon.

A few pics of the experience after the jump.

Over the past several months, Starbucks Coffee has been revamping its stores and practices, and among the many changes customers have seen, one of the most peevish has to be the new plastic lids used for cold beverages. At first glance, they look like all the other standard lids, but upon further inspection, these plastic disks prove to be nothing more than stubborn coffee cock-blocks. That's right, the plastic tops do little but impede thirsty drinkers on their quest for caffeinated goodness. They are horrendous, awful, and quite possibly forged in the depths of hell. I hate them, and I've decided to start a crusade to get Starbucks to shift manufacturers so that we the people can enjoy our iced lattes and frappucinos with ease once again.

A detailed, step-by-step photographic case against the lids after the jump...

As my Big Brother posts decline in frequency, an inversely proportionate amount of cooking entries seem to be popping up on my blog. Such is the case with this latest adventure in domesticity in which I endeavored to cook an entire Rosh Hashanah meal all by myself. Why did I take on this mammoth feat? Well, it was Rosh Hashanah this past week, and I am Jewish; so immediately, there's that whole religious thing. But mostly, I was bored and in the mood for kugel, which for the uninformed is like a noodle pudding thing. Of course, what's the point of making kugel if you're not gonna have matzoh ball soup too? And so the whole thing snowballed from there. I invited over my usual gaggle of friends, anointed the evening "New Year, Jew Year," and let the rollicking good times ensue.

Photos of the culinary journey after the jump...

Last week, I brought you tales of Franco-Mexican fusion with my controversial brie quesadillas (with corn tortillas). Many close-minded people were shocked at the combination, and while not everyone can be as adventurous as I, surely there won't be as much of a massive outcry about my chocolate cheesecake, which has been a tried and true stalwart for years. Let me preface this by saying that I'm rather bad when it comes to baking and similar tasks of that ilk. However, since cheesecake requires little more than mixing a bunch of wet things in a bowl, it's something that I can pull off rather effortlessly. I've made this cake dozens of times, and what it lacks in presentation, it makes up for in taste. It's seriously really good.

Recipe after the jump!

When you're a blogger, you live life in the fast lane, and never was that more apparent than earlier this week when my friend Laura and I made quesadillas on the faux Foreman grill. Yes, it was a glamorous affair, full of multiculturalism and Pam Cooking Spray, and being the dutiful blogger that I am, I've decided to share this admittedly A-List event with all you readers out there on the Internets.

So here's the back story. With neither one of us having had dinner yet that night, Laura and I were getting quite hungry, but our third friend, Jenny, was en route with various snacks for a much hyped movie night (Stomp The Yard, natch). We didn't want to engage in a full meal, lest Jenny's snacks prove to be a meal unto themselves — in which case, we'd just nosh on those. But we didn't want to eat just nothing in case the snacks weren't sufficient enough to sate our monstrous appetites. As you can see, we were in a No Man's Land of hunger. What could we eat? Sandwiches seemed too big, cereal too out-of-place, curry too heavy, and garden burgers too frou-frou. And that's when I had an idea: how about quesadillas? Perfect! Not too filling, but certainly more satisfying than a light snack.

Of course, we faced a few limitations. First, the frozen corn tortillas I had were of low quality (leftovers from my taco experiments back in March). Second, the only cheese I had was a decidedly un-Mexican variety of brie. And third, Laura and I had never made quesadillas ever; so we were a bit like los ciegos leading los ciegos. Still, after having consulted with the Food Network website, we were resolved to make our corn-n-brie quesadillas to the best of our abilities. I manned the grill, Laura helmed the camera, and together, we embarked on an ethnic odyssey that was as exciting as it was educational.

Photos after the jump...

A few weeks ago, I headed off to local Middle Eastern restaurant / institution Marouch for the first time to enjoy some hummus, pita, and various other delectable treats from the Fertile Crescent. Joining me in the fun was my old friend and Metromix contributor Katherine Spiers, who for the past two years or so had been goading me into trying this fabled eatery. It was worth the wait. Photos of our culinary adventure after the jump.

This past weekend, I stayed in on Saturday night, and in an effort to add a dash of excitement into the evening, I cooked up a nicer meal than usual. On the menu: chicken piccata with a steamed artichoke on the side. I was also going to whip up some chocolate tartlets for dessert, but I forgot to buy whole milk; so that addition had to be tabled. Anyway, culled from various recipes on the Food Network website, the meal was an unmitigated success. And of course, I took photos — although, my camerawork was spotty, and I managed to miss many vital steps along the way. Oh well.

It comes with a heavy heart that I must announce the passing of a great/horrible/beloved casual dining chain, Bennigans. Yes, that oh-so-lovable, Irish-y, neighborhood "Tavern & Grill" has closed its doors in the wake of its parent company filing for bankruptcy. This is absolutely devastating news to me mainly for one reason and one reason alone: the Monte Cristo. You know what I'm talking about. That glorious, cholesterol-laden sandwich that seems to be a gift straight from the deep-fried gods. I've had many Monte Cristos in my time — some good, some not so good — and while a few have come close, none have ever been able to touch the pure, greasy perfection that is the Bennigans Monte Cristo. For the uninitiated, the sandwich consists of several layers of ham, turkey, and cheese (American and Swiss), all deep fried in battered bread and sprinkled with sugar. Marvelous. Just marvelous.

I remember the first time I had one back when I was a kid. I think I was in Philly on a family trip. What I thought would just be another ordinary sandwich proved to be the start of a decades long love affair that to this day will occasionally prompt me to drive all the way out to Glendale, CA (gross) just to get the sandwich. Honestly though, it's been about two or three years since I last went; so I suppose I'm part of the problem, not the solution. The sad truth is that I've never lived near a Bennigans. They always seemed to be thirty or forty-five minutes away. The closest I ever came to Bennigans nirvana was in 2000 when I was an intern at the WWE in Stamford. Lo and behold, there was a Bennigans just about a mile away from the Stamford, CT offices, and you better believe I was there at least once a week to fetch my Monte Cristo to go. Did I smell what The Rock was cooking? Not necessarily. But I always smelled that sandwich.

Oh well. I guess those days are long gone now. At least I still have Red Lobster. Never leave me, Big Red. Never leave me.

• Bennigan's Closed After Parent Co. Files For Bankruptcy [NBC5i.com via Slashfood]

Looking to get yourself disinvited from The Today Show? Well, that appears to be the fate in store for "Sam the Cooking Guy," who suddenly erupted in rage in the middle of his cooking segment. Awkward pauses ensued, followed by snippy Kathy Lee Gifford faces, and, of course, laughter across the country.

Smell ya later, Sam!

Via Slashfood

This weekend, my friend had a barbecue and asked me to bring over some of that "Korean shit" that I've been known to make now and then. Yes, dear readers, it turns out that occasionally, I've been known to actually whip up a Korean barbecue marinade perfect for Galbi (or beef short ribs). I learned the recipe about three years ago when another friend of mine had a bbq and invited over his neighbor, an Asian woman who came with pounds and pounds of Galbi. Needless to say, it was delicious — just like the restaurants — and as I'm a huge, huge fan of Korean food, I asked her for the recipe. I don't make it too often (laziness), but the truth is that it's actually very simple, and it turns out perfectly each time.

Well, since my buddy requested the "Korean shit," how could I deny him? I headed over to the local Korean supermarket (a definitely bonus to living in LA), gathered up my ingredients, and went to work. And since I'm a compulsive blogger, I photographed the entire process (well, not the shopping). By the way, I should mention that everything in the recipe should be readily available in any supermarket. I only go to the Korean market because it's cheaper, and they sell mass quantities of short ribs cut the way I like them.

Anyway, a magical mystery tour of my Korean culinary adventures after the jump...

Hold me closer, tiny ice cream.

My heart skipped a beat today when I saw that there'd be a brand new flavor rolling out of the Ben & Jerry's factory this month. Surely I would have to sample this latest batch of frozen paradise. But then I learned a horrid, horrid truth. The new flavor would only be available for one week... and only in VERMONT.

Why, Ben & Jerry's? WHY? Adding insult to injury, the new flavor looks oh-so-good. Titled "Goodbye Yellow Brickle Road" as an ode to Elton John (who'll be playing his first Vermont concert this month), the ice cream features "an outrageous symphony of decadent chocolate ice cream, peanut butter cookie dough, butter brickle and white chocolate chunks."

Me == salivating at the mouth.

I can't believe such an affable organization as Ben & Jerry's would deign to tease us with this flavor, knowing that only a small population of the country will have access to it — and only for a limited time at that! It's not right, I tell you. It's not right! Ice cream flavors should last longer than a candle in the wind, if you will. Don't let the sun go down on me, Ben & Jerry's! The circle of life for this ice cream should be longer, more expansive! I want to eat it at the club at the end of the street!!!

Okay, I'll stop.

For more on this unlawful ice cream situation, check out the full article here.

Once again, I'm happily shilling for my friends, Marc and Leslie. From the same people who made the best R2-D2 cake EVER (even if it was red, purists be damned), here's a nifty Porsche cake the two made for a recent client. Ain't it the cutest little Porsche cake you done ever seen?

For more info, visit Mark Joseph Cakes. And check out one more pic after the jump...

Last month, I posted photos of my friends Mark and Leslie's triumphant R2-D2 cake, and I am happy to report that in the time since, the tasty dessert has become an Internet sensation. The story has been picked up by the Los Angeles Times as well as various news and radio outlets in Arizona, Boston, New Zealand, and Norway; not to mention such websites as Great White Snark, Fark, StumbleUpon, Slashfood, and, I'm happy to report, the official Star Wars blog at starwars.com. (ooooh)

Now, I'm not writing this just to toot my own horn (although, I rarely pass up an opportunity to do just that). No, I'm writing because I want to thank Mark and Leslie for giving my site such a huge traffic boost, and furthermore, since the whole point of the original post was to give their new bakery exposure, I'm super excited to say that as of yesterday, their cake has been viewed (on my site alone) by over 100,000 different people and counting! If you're in the NY area, be sure to check them out and tell them I sent you. Here's the link:

• Mark Joseph Cakes

Yesterday afternoon, while my friend Jash and I were getting drunk and watching TV, a most curious text message arrived on my phone. It came from my friend Caty, and for whatever reason, I felt the need to read it out loud (not a normal practice).

"This message is from my friend, Caty," I said, as if Jash even cared. "Just met Spike from Top Chef... You know him? He's nice."

Three. Two. One... MUTUAL GASP.

Maybe it was the booze or maybe it was our unhealthy obsession with Top Chef, but this news made Jash and I drop our jaws at the exact same time. (Sort of funny because it's not like the coolest news ever, even though it is pretty cool. I blame the booze). Anyway, I immediately called up Caty and asked her for the story. Turns out she had mixed up her bearded chefs. She had really meant to say "Andrew," who of course is just as awesome in our books. She said he was really cool and friendly and whatnot, but to be honest, the specifics are a little hazy (booze). All I do remember is that I commanded Caty to get a photo posthaste. And that's what she did. What a good friend. And what a cool chef. One more pic after the jump...

Hey y'all [said in Paula Deen voice]. I've written another post for DipDive.com, and this one focuses on Michelle Obama and Cindy McCain's respective cookie recipes — apparently the key to this election. Anyway, I'm curious as to how these recipes will turn out, but I'm not sure if I have the patience (or capacity) to make them myself. Any intrepid bakers out there feel like taking them on? Nevertheless, voice your opinion in the comments, and in the meantime, here's the intro to my article...

When it comes to predicting elections, we can refer to our usual tools of prognostication — charts, maps, trends, stats, data, logic, common sense — or we can turn to a more reliable bellwether: cookies. Yes, those small, innocuous, and oft-times heavenly morsels of greatness can hold the key to elections.

While seemingly unrelated to politics, it turns out that there’s a very special link between cookies and Presidential ascendancy. For the past four elections, the readers of Family Circle magazine have accurately predicted the next President based on the cookie recipes of the candidates’ wives. Whoever has had the more popular cookie has gone on to win the whole shebang. Why? Not sure. Maybe it’s because a scrumptious cookie recipe speaks of a candidate’s good judgment. After all, what candidate would ever allow a substandard cookie to represent him on the campaign trail? Anyone that abides by such silliness surely can’t be fitting for the White House. (Of course, by this logic, Ina Garten could power her husband Jeffrey into the Oval Office without a problem; so, as you can see, the theory is a bit flawed.)

Continue reading COOKIE MONSTERS: Michelle and Cindy Get Their Baking On ».

That's what you call a good Dad.

Yesterday, I posted photos of Mark Randazzo's latest incredible R2-D2 cake. Today, I received an email from Doug, a.k.a. the guy who ordered the cake, and he had this to say:

My son loves Star Wars from playing the Wii Lego Star Wars games. R2-D2 comes in different colors in the game (Blue, Red, and Black/Yellow) and he loves the Red R2 the most. So, a few months before I came up with the idea of having a Star Wars themed party. I had recalled your original post (which I came across on BoingBoing), and got in touch with Mark about doing a similar cake but in Maroon, as the piece de resistance of the party.

Needless to say, the cake was an amazing hit with my son (who has the nickname "Tres" as he's a third) and I wish I had a lot of pictures to share with you on his reaction. I'm usually the photographer in the family so I actually have only one of his immediate reaction, which is below. Everyone had nothing but gushing things to say about the cake and the party. And, I should mention, the cake was really really good - it wasn't just pretty!

Mark and his team were great and he came to my home personally to deliver R2. I will keep Mark on my rolodex for years to come.

Other things we did at the party: dressed up in appropriate outfits (my son and I were Boba and Jango Fett), made homemade lightsabers and used them in a "keep the balloon in the air" event, had Star Wars musical chairs, presented Jedi Knight certificates, did Star Wars coloring, and the like. It was two hours (which is about the limit for a four year old's attention span) of great fun.

My work here is done.

Two more pics from the party after the jump.

Back in February, I introduced you to possibly the best R2-D2 cake ever, created by my friend and professional baker, Mark Randazzo, who just started up a new bakery, Mark Joseph Cakes. Turns out I wasn't the only one amazed by this creation. The post drew the attention of BoingBoing, Gizmodo, Elite Choice, and many others. While I loved the traffic, I was even happier that Mark and his wife Leslie, who both run the bakery, got so much exposure. I told them that the next time they make an R2-D2 cake, they have to take more pictures for me to post about.

Well, thanks to the Internet buzz, it wasn't long before someone came calling. Mark once again whipped up an extraordinary R2-D2 cake, which had to have blown away the four year old birthday boy who received it. Even better, judging by the photos, it appears as though R2 is really one giant red velvet cake with RICE KRISPY TREAT LEGS. I want one. Now.

Whether you're a Star Wars enthusiast or simply a lover of cake, you have to see this.

Last Friday, in an effort to save some money, I decided to stay in and watch the National Spelling Bee, thus turning down the many, many invitations I had received to go out to the hottest clubs and party with the city's celebrity elite. It was a hard decision, for sure, but sometimes even I must find refuge from the flashing lights and gliteratti. However, as exciting as watching awkward middle schoolers was, I still felt like the night needed some sort of augmentation — a little pizazz to keep things interesting. What better way to spice up the festivities than by making my first ever batch of muffins? After all, B-Side Blog reader SpecialK had so kindly purchased me a muffin tin after having seen my previously misshapen baking exploits; so why not put it to use?

And so with a shopping basket in hand and a dream in the heart, I happily bought a packet of mix and plunged down the rabbit hole that is homemade muffinry. Photos after the jump.

People who've been reading this blog may know that I'm sort of a sucker for the Trader Joe's food display. Without fail, I come home from that place with one or two items I never even dreamed of purchasing, and this past Tuesday was no exception. For some reason, my eye caught a benign jar of "Thai Green Curry Simmer Sauce," and within seconds I was eagerly stuffing it into my plastic basket. I don't know why, really. Maybe it's because I've been on a little Thai kick recently. Maybe it's because I'm a huge fan of curry. Or maybe it's just because I was hungry and impressionable. I don't know. Whatever the reason, the promise of quick and simple Thai food emanating from my very own kitchen was too exciting for me to resist, and so I purchased the seductive little jar and brought it home for what would hopefully be a culinary trip to the depths of Bankok. A few photos after the jump...

It's very fashionable to hate McDonald's. To some, the fast food chain represents the simplification and destruction of American culture by corporate giants. To others, they are sly enablers and profiteers of this country's growing obesity epidemic. But me? I LOVE THEM. That's why I was only too happy to march down to the local outpost and try the company's newest offering: iced coffee.

To be fair, McDonald's has been offering this beverage for a few weeks now, but today was the first time I actually felt motivated to take on the caffeinated beast. My thoughts after the jump...

It's sort of funny that last night's Top Chef episode featured a taco challenge because I've spent the past week in a veritable taco-haze, eating those little nuggets of Mexican joy with reckless abandon. In fact, I'm in such a taco fever that I did the unthinkable: I tried to make some at home. The results were mixed.

Pictures of this grand culinary adventure, as well as some other Mexican-themed goodness, after the jump...

I had quite the celebrity sighting yesterday. It wasn't so excellent because of the star wattage — although, that was pretty cool —  but more for the bizarre randomness of the entire event. I'll explain.

It was about 7 PM, and my friend Jash and I decided to stop in at Angelina's Frozen Yogurt, one of the few fro-yo spots in Los Angeles that I can tolerate (mostly because it's not overpriced and, more importantly, they serve flavors beyond just plain and green tea. I mean, seriously, what is up with the flavor nazis? But I digress). Anyway, as we walked into this humble shop of icy dairy goodness, I noticed an old woman off to the side receiving what appeared to be a lifetime's supply of frozen yogurt. She seriously had so much, I thought she might be on some strange, geriatric office run. The whole thing was kind of bizarre, and I just figured she was an old coot doing some typically old coot-ish thing.

Well, I stood by the registers and waited to place my order, but of course, the server was busy tending to Miss Haversham in the corner. I looked over again, but before I saw the woman's face, I was distracted by her ever growing collection of yogurt. She had ordered pretty much the largest size you can get, which I think was about a quart. Now, most people when they get a quart of ice cream or frozen yogurt, they usually put a lid on it and bring it home to devour over the course of a few days. This woman, however, was going to eat the whole damn thing. I could tell because the server continued to pour frozen yogurt into the container way after it had reached appropriate lid-containment levels. Yes, there was a full on fro-yo swirl at the top of this gargantuan load, but I merely shrugged it off. I've seen crazier things in L.A.. And besides, if this woman wants to stuff her face with fro-yo, all the power to her. There are some days when I wish I could be just like her.

Anyway, the server finally came over to me, and after I placed my not-so-healthy order (regular sized Belgian chocolate with peanut butter cup topping. Heh.), I glanced back at the dairy-lovin' lady for no real reason. I don' t know why I did it. Maybe it was curiosity, or maybe it was because she was hovering generally in the peanut butter cup region. Whatever the reason, for the first time, I actually saw her face, and something suddenly clicked in me. I was staring at a legend.

A few months ago, I saw Giada De Laurentiis making a most peculiar sandwich on the Food Network. It involved brie, chocolate chips, basil, and a panini maker. Everything about it seemed wrong, but I couldn't help being intrigued —  especially when Giada insisted that the sandwich was delicious despite its unconventional ingredients. Ever since then, I've wanted to give the chocolate and brie panini a whirl, but I just couldn't bring myself to buy a whole wedge of brie and a bag of chocolate chips for one sandwich experiment. There was something about it that just seemed entirely too indulgent. As a result, I waited around, knowing that eventually, the ingredients would somehow someday find their way into my kitchen.

Hard to believe, but this recreation of R2D2 is not made of plastic. It is 100% edible. That's right, ladies and gents. You're looking at a cake. Of course, sugary recreations of R2D2 are nothing new to this planet, but one sample search of "R2D2 Cake" on Google Images reveals that this might just be the best version ever.

Now, before you put your hands on your hips and give me the skeptical Mo'nique face, rest assured that this is no prank. I can vouch personally for this fondant masterpiece. Turns out it was actually created by my friend Mark Randazzo, a professional baker who just set up shop in NYC. And the answer is YES, I am shilling for him, but for good reason. I mean, look at that damn cake!!! If you're not convinced, check out the cakes at his new site, markjosephcakes.com. I guarantee you'll be impressed.

Last week, when I blogged about eating a Cadbury Creme Egg, I had no idea that the post would elicit a whopping 10+ comments (which is a lot for this fledgling blog). I was even more surprised at the fervent outcry for more pictures of the egg's gooey, sugary center. Okay, it was really only three comments, but who am I to deny the readers what they want? Like the accommodating blogger that I am, I went to the drugstore and fetched another Cadbury Creme Egg, happy to imperil my daily caloric intake for the sake of my dear readers.

Photos of a second Cadbury Creme egg — insides and all —  after the jump.

It's always dangerous for me to go to drug stores because I usually emerge with some impulsively purchased piece of candy. Yesterday, I found myself staring down a box of Cadbury Creme Eggs, and I had to ask myself: is January too early to partake in an Easter confection? And am I a bad Jew? I decided the answer to both was a resounding no. As is the case every year, I couldn't deny myself the delicious, chocolatey, enamel-threatening treat. So I bought one and ate it, but not before snapping a few pics in honor of this candy's triumphant seasonal return.

This is what happens when I get sick, people. I blog about minutae. I mean, really? Am I really about to post about a Cadbury Creme Egg? Even though there's no hook or story to go with it? Really? Really? Eh, it's Friday. No one's reading anyway.

We were all deeply shocked and saddened by Heath Ledger's untimely death yesterday, and while those in New York City have manifested their grief by erecting a candlelit shrine for the actor, I've paid tribute the only way I know how: with yogurt. Yes, in honor of Heath, I ordered my frozen yogurt tonight with a topping of Heath Bar Crunch. It's a small gesture, but heartfelt nonetheless.

In one of the more disturbing articles of recent memory (or at least since I woke up this morning), the New York Times revealed that mercury levels are "cray cray high" in raw tuna sampled from twenty different Manhattan eateries. Okay, maybe they didn't say "cray cray," but they did use the equally alarmist phrase, "mercury levels so high that the Food and Drug Administration could take legal action to remove the fish from the market." Cue the dramatic organ music.

Yes, apparently mercury and tuna are a match made in heaven, and the more expensive the fish, the higher the mercury. That's because high-end tuna tends to come from fat fish, and fat fish tend to have consumed more mercury by virtue of being FAT. The good news is that the crappy stuff in the supermarket is probably the safest of the bunch, but the luxurious sashimi one might find at Nobu (or Nobu Next Door, which was cited in the article) could have higher mercury levels. Oy. It should be noted that yellowtail and albacore don't carry the same threat.

Of course, a random sampling of Manhattan restaurants does not necessarily mean the results are the same countrywide. Experts in the article say it's a high probability that mercury levels are similar elsewhere, but then again, that could just be the opinion of one man. Truth be told, this could be just one of those Chicken Little exposés, and while that may be the case, for now, consider me RATTLED.

And yet... I still really want some sushi for lunch now. ARGH.

• High Mercury Levels Are Found In Tuna Sushi [New York Times]

Recently, during my travels through the Internets, I came across a blog, Dessert First, that among other things, features a nifty section devoted to dessert recipes. Now, I'm no cook, and I'm certainly not a baker, but when I saw an entry devoted to chocolate tartlets, I became intrigued. Over the past few months, I'd become increasingly enamored with this simple pastry, and so it was with a ravenous curiosity that I clicked the link to see just how these tiny morsels of heaven are made. To my surprise, the recipe seemed startlingly easy —  so much so that I thought even I might be able to do it. Nothing is ever as simple as it seems though, and knowing this, I was sure to whip out my camera and document this culinary saga.

Back in September, I went on a highfalutin jaunt to Paris with some friends, and while there, we had lunch at a cozy, New York Times-recommended bistro called Chez Michel. The meal was delicious — some of the best mussels I've ever had — but nothing could prepare me for the cheese plate I had ordered for dessert. Turns out the plate was less a of plate and more of a miniature fromagerie. No dainty slices of brie here — just giant blocks of cheese. It could have fed ten people. We were all so shocked when this leviathan offering of dairy products descended on the table that I immediately whipped out my camera and snapped a quick photo.

Little did I realize this offhand pic would soon become the toast of the Internet. Okay, maybe that's an overstatement. It's only been viewed twenty times. BUT I was most honored when the editors of the online travel resource Schmap contacted me about using the photo in their latest Paris guide. I'm not going to lie: I was floored, and I don't even know why. It's cool and everything, but when I received the email, I literally felt like I had been nominated for an Academy Award. I think it's because it was like two in the morning, and I was tired and/or delirious. Nevertheless, I've since come down from my Schmap-induced high, but I remain quite flattered that the editors saw artistry (or at least functionality) in my pic. To check out the photo in all its Schmappy context, click here.

Oh, and as for the cheese, it was quite tasty. We quickly deduced that it was indeed a traveling plate, meant for consumption by multiple tables. Probably not the most sanitary of practices, but oh so very European!

• Chez Michel [Schmap!! Paris]

The Machines Are Here. And They Bring Cupcakes.

When you think of the intense, bloody, testosterone-fueled Terminator franchise, only one thing comes to mind: cupcakes. It's a pairing as old as time itself. Well, banking on that classic robot-cupcake association, Fox is promoting its new series, Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles by giving away free cupcakes at venerable Los Angeles cupcake institution, Sprinkles. To some it might seem like a strange tie-in, but when I first read the notice in Eater LA, I was out the door so quickly you would have thought a T-1000 was charging down the hallway after me.

Photos of this adventure after the jump.

One of my favorite writers in the blogosphere is none other than S. Irene Virbila, the Los Angeles Times's head food critic. Her reviews are known for their brutal honesty ("It may be all right for a drink, but the confusing concept, lame cooking and general ineptness make Hidden a no-go zone for anybody who cares about food.") and their terse, understated outbursts of approval. ("Fun.") Personally, I love reading them. But what's even better are S. Irene's occasional posts to the LAT's food blog, Daily Dish. Her recent New Years entry, a lush glimpse into her world of fireside caviar binges and Provencal daubes, was an instant classic, but now, it seems as though The Virbs may have outdone herself.

In today's Daily Dish, Virbila extols the virtues of spices, specifically those which boast a certain tactile interactivity:

AND HOW! Who hasn't felt the toe-curling, orgasmic thrill of a well-employed microplane? The Virbs then goes on to explain her unorthodox method of keeping her spices unlabeled, thus allowing her to revel in the whimsical joys of sniffing out her unknown quarry. To some readers, this might reek of highfalutin, esoteric crap. To me, it's glorious.

•New Spices for a New Year [Los Angeles Times]

When I went to Trader Joe's tonight, I wasn't particularly in the mood for corn chowder, but when I came face to face with a towering display of these little cans, I found myself instinctively reaching for one — and for a very simple reason: its bulbous midriff. Had the corn chowder been packaged in merely plain old cans, I would have gone my merry way. But these soups were in miniature kettles!!! Or rather, miniature kettle-type cans. I don't know if kettles play a prominent role in the world of chowders, but I knew one thing: I HAD TO HAVE ONE.

Sadly, packaging masked a mediocre product. The chowder wasn't that bad, but it was just entirely too salty, almost like a chicken broth, minus the chicken. Some black pepper helped matters out, but overall, I'm not sure I'd buy this product again.

And for no other reason than I was bored/procrastinating, some bonus pics of my dinner after the jump...

Animal activists, avert your eyes. Above is a slab of that most delicious of French staples, foie gras. I came across this photo late last night while I was both hungry and nostalgic for a meal I had eaten earlier this year in a little French bistro named Chez Michel. Unfortunately, I learned the hard way that browsing shiny, delectable images on an empty stomach is nothing short of a horrific idea. Yes, ever since my flickr adventures, I've been relentlessly craving foie gras, but in the absence of any readily accessible goose liver, I've simply had to sate myself by staring at this photo, which is really quite counter-intuitive, if you think about it. Nevertheless, I fear that I may have glanced upon the culinary version of The Ring, except instead of being haunted by images of a little girl, I see foie gras. And instead of an ominous phone call, my stomach rumbles. And instead of dying, I just get hungrier. Okay, it's nothing like The Ring at all. Point is that if you love foie gras like I do, once you look at this picture, you won't be able to think of anything else.

Many thanks to the blog Desserts First, whose author snapped this tempting photo. If you're hungry but the foie-gras isn't doing much for you, I promise this site will have plenty for you to wag your tongue at.

"Happy Kwanzaa, black people.  From me and my breasts!"