Monthly Archives: January 2007

BBQ baby back ribs

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Opening

Dear god I love ribs. I am in love with the spare rib, for certain, but lately I’ve been cheating and having a torrid affair with its slim, high-rent cousin, the baby back rib. Sure, it’s less meat, but they tend to be easier to cook (and take a lot less time), but on average you’re also spending $3-5 dollars more per pound. Something to consider.

Now, a lot of BBQ purists and snobs and know-it-alls (and everywhere you turn, there’s some guy who claims to be the authority on BBQ) will scoff at sauce. You know what? I like a saucey rib. For one, I like condiments, and a rib sauce is like the ultimate opportunity to indulge your condiment fetish (a good thing if you’re — like me — the Marquis de Sade of condiments). Almost anything can be added, in sparing amounts, to a rib sauce. Why not seize the opportunity to put your shit to good use?

And sauce tastes good. Mind you, I dry rub my ribs too. I suspect they would taste pretty good without a saucing, if you went the extra steps and took special care in cooking and smoking your rib. But licking your fingers after every rib, wiping excess from your cheek (yes, that is uncomfortably pornographic), well, why would I deprive myself of such an experience for the sake of somebody else’s idea of authenticity?

And screw those BBQ snobs. America has been around, what, a couple hundred years? These guys act like they invented the fucking pig. The delicious swine (and cow, and lamb, and goat, and anything with blood) has been quartered and grilled and smoked for thousands of years. The rest of the meat-eating world didn’t suddenly wake up and take notice the moment some solipsistic asshat in St. Louis or Kansas City or Austin or Memphis or Carolina proclaimed himself King Shit of Fuck Mountain.

Rib rub

Use any/all of these, in any amounts you’d prefer. Experiment and find your spice rub g-spot, if you will. Feel free to add to this list — it’s not exhaustive by any means. Ground coffee or espresso? Onward, brave soldier.

  • Garlic powder
  • Onion powder
  • Ground coriander
  • Ground cumin
  • Paprika
  • Salt
  • Pepper
  • Celery salt
  • Mustard powder
  • Chili powder (New Mexico, pasilla, de arbol)
  • Fennel
  • Ground cloves
  • 5 spice powder
  • Extract of wort and/or wormwood
  • Macerated erosberries
  • Ground farrah root
  • Essence of taint

Soak your ribs in a cold water brine of equal parts kosher salt and brown sugar for an hour. Some people add apple juice. Those people are my heroes. But my daughter drinks the apple juice in our house, so if I poured half her shit into a brine just to throw away it would be like her using my smoked hungarian paprika as a pigment base for her water coloring. Have some respect and empathy, people. Pat the ribs dry, and coat both sides with your most excellent rub. Prep your grill by building up your coals on one side, and proceed to BBQ on the cool side with the cover on, for about 2 hours, turning as you feel the need (usually every other beer or so – just make sure you aren’t drinking Hair of the Dog’s Fred are your ass will be kicked). For the last 15 minutes, I like to remove the ribs, remove the cover, and bring the heat/fire back up. Coat the ribs with your sauce and then return the ribs back to the grill to finish.

Ribs

Let them cool for a bit (if you can resist the urge to gnaw the entire rack down to bone nubs). Slice and enjoy.

Sauce

Der rib sauce

Like I previously stated, anything can go in a rib sauce pretty much. This is shit I had in my fridge and pantry, and the measurements are approximate. In reality, I just dumped shit in the pan. Remember, most anything will be work if you match the sweet and savory and acidic. Though I would probably steer clear of marshmallows, cod liver oil, and crystal meth.

  • 1 tblsp maple syrup
  • 7 dashes worcestshire
  • 2 tblsp CJ brand hot and spicy Korean BBQ sauce
  • 1 tblsp apple cider vinegar
  • 4 tblsp ketchup
  • 1 teaspoon hoisin
  • 1 teaspoon korean fermented black bean paste
  • 2 tablespoons apple juice
  • 1 teaspoon Buffalo chipotle sauce
  • 1 tablespoon apricot preserves
  • 3 tblsp water
  • 1 tablespoon Hennesey VSOP cognac
  • 1 teaspoon oyster sauce
  • 1 teaspoon Lee Kum Kee Vegetarian Mushroom Stir Fry Sauce
  • 1/4 cup Stella Artois beer (I happened to be drinking this at the time. Use a lager or whatever you want. It’s your life.)

Combine all this shit in a saucepan and simmer over low heat for an hour and a half (preferably while the ribs are cooking or you’re the worst multi-tasker in the world).

Meat Bracket Entry: Tofu

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This entry is a contestant for The Carnivore Project’s ongoing Meat Bracket, which aims to crown a lucky meatstuff “THE ULTIMATE MEAT”. Click here to vote.

First of all, I hear you. What you’re saying. How can tofu be THE ULTIMATE MEAT? It isn’t even a meat, in the conventional sense, in that it doesn’t come from, you know, an animal. Doesn’t something have to die before it can be considered meat? Tofu is made from a soybean! Understand? “Bean”? A vegetable?!? And, holy tits of santa, the soybean is green! A fucking green plant…considered meat…THE ULTIMATE MEAT? It’s a logical fallacy at its core, much like debating if the McRib sandwich is the ULTIMATE rib, or if Gwen Stefani is the ULTIMATE music artist (when it’s clear she is neither an artist nor what she actually barfs up can be considered music).

Like I said, I hear you. But I’m going to tell you why tofu is not only THE ULTIMATE MEAT, it’s THE ULTIMATE OF ANYTHING TO INFINITY.

Why?

Continue reading →

Meat Bracket Entry: Buffalo Wings

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This entry is a contestant for The Carnivore Project’s ongoing Meat Bracket, which aims to crown a lucky meatstuff “THE ULTIMATE MEAT”. Click here to vote.

Conventional wisdom demands that Buffalo Wings were first invented at the Anchor Bar in Buffalo, New York. This is a benign story that neatly fits into an epistemologically narrow worldview, but like most racistly simplistic yarns, it relies on half-truths, innuendo, and overt generalizations.

The true story, rather, springs to life some 95 miles east/southeast of Buffalo, in the town of Canandaigua, a sleepy little fishing village that anchors a lake by the same name in upstate New York’s Finger Lakes region (also affectionately known as “America’s Gall Bladder”).

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Whither Wilbur

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Via Adam at A Hamburger Today, I see that a few idiotards at my alma matter are dissing the very possibility of an In-n-Out on campus.

First the Basketcats lose 4 of 5, and now we have to suffer these fools.

Though In-N-Out Burger is one of many popular burger restaurants, it is far from some students’ thoughts.

“I think SONIC should be there, or Burger King,” said James Roberts, a molecular and cellular biology sophomore. “Any place that serves better fries.”

Other students would like to see a place with a variety of food choices and healthier options.

“Wendy’s is a lot healthier, and you can have a salad instead of fries,” said Melissa Revelle, a physics and astronomy junior. “SONIC is also better because it has a better variety and quality.”

Other students are not as concerned about who fills in the space, but would like to see a restaurant that can handle the student traffic in the union.

“I’m not too sad to see it go,” said Adam Dietrich, a math and computer science sophomore. “As long as they have a line of tills (registers), I’m OK.”

They should all be flunked and forced to go to NAU.

Meat Bracket Entry: Shrimp

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This entry is a contestant for The Carnivore Project’s ongoing Meat Bracket, which aims to crown a lucky meatstuff “THE ULTIMATE MEAT”. Click here to vote.

Shrimp

Shrimp, aka prawns. And, to a lesser extent, krill. Using the term “shrimp” and “prawn” interchangeably is a bit of a misnomer, as prawns are actually distinguished from the shrimp by the nature of their gills. But in common parlance the term “prawn” is commonly used to refer to the larger, yoked up specimen, i.e. the Barry Bonds of shrimp. And it’s important to note the prawn has a regular plural form, whereas shrimp can refer to one lonesome crustacean or a bevy (a flock? a murder?) of the little critters, putting them on the same solid linguistic footing as sheep and moose. That has to count for something.

And so does the fact that Red Lobster holds a yearly “Shrimpfest”, even though shrimp isn’t even in their name! You would presume they simply exist to serve their mighty overlord — the haughty and disdainful lobster, yet they see fit to celebrate the wonder and grandeur that is the shrimp with a wild celebration each year. You don’t see Red Lobster doing this for anything else. There’s no “Quailfest” or even a “Sea Urchin Roe Box Social.” People flock from miles away to Red Lobster each year to pay homage to the shrimp, downing dozens of shrimp that have been fried, sauteed, steamed (but mostly fried) in an all-you-can eat bacchanalian orgy of pink ecstasy.

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Meat Bracket Entry: Hot Dogs

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This entry is a contestant for The Carnivore Project’s ongoing Meat Bracket, which aims to crown a lucky meatstuff “THE ULTIMATE MEAT”.

Dog-Selection

Lips and assholes.

That’s a common misconception when it comes to evaluating what’s in a hot dog. Or is it? My buddy Jimbo’s father worked at a Hormel plant in his formidable years, and he claimed Spam was the top flight mystery meat outfit coming out of Hormel’s Austin, Minnesota factory. Hot dogs, he claimed, well…watch out.

So how do you defend something that doesn’t even measure up to fucking spiced ham in a can, much less make a cogent argument that it deserves to be crowned THE ULTIMATE MEAT?

Continue reading →

Christmas dinner 2006

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What I made the family and in-laws Christmas evening. The in-laws are very picky eaters, so we tend to go very simple. I am posting this belatedly most so I can chronicle for posterity; next year, I’ll look back and tell myself to try something different.

Salmon

Herb crusted Steelhead salmon fillets with lemon and caper buerre blanc. As I mentioned, everyone’s a bit picky, but they do like capers, so I went nuts with them. I need to go to Costco to replenish.

Herbs

I used herbs from my garden — rosemary, marjoram, oregano, mint, chives — that were still alive. I also used a bit of ground coriander, salt, pepper, lemon zest, and just a smidgeon of smoked paprika. Seared in olive oil to get a nice crust, flipped and roasted in the oven while I made the sauce.

Potatoes

Roasted potatoes.

Potato-Raw

The potatoes were seasoned liberally with kosher salt and smoked paprika (and a pinch of chopped rosemary and chive) and tossed in melted butter before roasting

Parsnips

Pureed parsnip and carrot gratin.

Carrots

Roasted carrots glazed with just a touch of honey and rice wine vinegar.

Spinach

Creamed spinach with a hint of garlic and nutmeg. Topped with fried shallots.

Salad

Perfunctory mesclun salad with shallot and dijon vinagrette.

Makenna

My little Christmas angel had fun rolling around into the discarded wrapping paper.

Your own private taqueria

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Tacos

This is your chance to have a taqueria experience in the comfort of your own home. After all this trouble, you might realize that perhaps it’s much easier to walk to the nearest taco truck or taqueria and throw down a five spot. That may be true. But give a man a taco, and he eats that day. Teach a man to taco, and he eats until his colon ruptures.

First of all, we start with the duality that is red and green taqueria table sauces. These two colors help make the Mexican flag. I guess if you wanted to complete the flag you could add crema or *gasp* sour cream to your taqueria tacos, but I will personally hunt you down and torture you by slicing off your eyelids and staking you to a pole in a sandstorm.

The first sauce I co-opted from a recipe that was shared on Chow.

Red

Taqueria Table Sauce

  • 5 medium roma tomatoes, cored and halved
  • 10 dried chile de arbol
  • 2 dried chile negro (dried pasilla)
  • 2 tablespoon dried pasilla powder
  • 1 3/4 cups water
  • 1 tablespoon kosher salt
  • 1 teaspoon sugar
  • 2 cloves garlic, peeled
  • 1 tablespoon roasted salted pepitas
  • 1 tablespoon roasted salted sunflower seeds
  • Juice of one lime or juice of two key limes
  • 1/3 bunch of cilantro

Place the tomatoes, skin side up, under heated broiler on top rack and broil until the skins start to blacken and shrivel.

Remove and add to saucepan. Break off stems from dried chilies, and shake out most of the seeds. If you want, get into the larger dried pasillas and remove some of the pith. No biggie. Add to saucepan, along with dried pasilla powder, salt, sugar, garlic, and water. Bring to boil and simmer over low for 20 minutes.

Pour into blender, add seeds, lime juices, cilantro, and puree incrementally using all those unneccesary escalating power settings on your blender (“These go 11”). My blender actually has 12 settings, though the initial level, “Fast Clean” I don’t think actually qualifies, but I make sure to utilize it because I feel like I’m being wasteful if I don’t. Oh yeah, stop when you have a nice, liquid consistency. There’s often a setting on blenders called “liquefy”. I suggest you escalate to this level. Maybe not at first, though — build up to it with some blender foreplay.

Green

Tomatillo-Avocado Sauce

You could use fresh hulled, roasted tomatillos for this recipe, but I find that a canned Mexican brand of pre-made salsa verde works quite excellently. But if you want to use fresh tomatillos, by all means do, but nobody is going to give you a prize or anything.

  • 2 7 oz cans Embasa Brand Salsa Verde (warning, link to THE BEST WEBSITE EVER)
  • 1 Haas Avocado (who is this guy “Haas”? Did he invent the avocado?)
  • 3 tablespoons water
  • 1 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1/3 bunch cilantro
  • 1 clove garlic, peeled
  • 3 dashes El Yucateco Chile Habenero XXXTRA (that’s 3 x’s for those keeping score at home) Hot Sauce

Put everything in a blender. Pulse and tease the salsa using the aforementioned blender foreplay, until a smooth, even consistency is reached.

Now for the carne asada.

Seek out a carniceria in your neighborhood — you’ll be happier to have found one, if only for the fact that the most popular brand of bread in Mexico is called “Bimbo”. They usually sell flap meat/steak, often even pre-marinated/seasoned for your pleasure. You can also find this cut at Winco foods. It is usually sliced in thin, broad sheets.

You say there’s no carcineria in your ‘hood? I find that hard to believe. Haven’t you been listening to right wing talk radio? If you had been, you’d realize the Mexicans are taking over ‘Murica and will soon reclaim the entire southwest as the Republic of Aztlan via “El Reconquista”. Tom Tancredo and Michelle Malkin said so! Beware the brown! Except for today, the day we make carne asada tacos. ¡Viva México!

General Zapata’s Carne Asada

  • Bunch o’ slices of flap meat, like over a pound or so
  • 2 tablespoons olive oil
  • 2 tablespoons cider vinegar
  • 5 garlic cloves, shoved through a garlic press
  • 1 teaspoon chile de arbol powder
  • 1 teaspoon paprika
  • 1 teaspoon onion powder
  • 1 tablespoon dried oregano
  • Kosher salt

Combine the meat and spices and salt everything to suit your tastes. Marinade for at least a couple hours. Grill over hot coals, few minutes per side, for a nice all around char. Chop up the carne into little bite size pieces, though only what you plan to eat right then and there.

Asada

I actually prefer to keep the flap steaks intact, refrigerate, and then for subsequent taco meals chop and reheat on a hot griddle. The meat will transform into perfect little crispy carnuggets. Spoon the carne asada onto doubled, warmed corn tortillas. I guess you could use flour tortillas — I suppose — but you’ll lose all my respect and in fact earn my resentment for some time to come. Garnish with diced white onions and cilantro.

Taco

Oh yeah, and the table salsas.

Salsas

For added effect put the salsas in plastic squeeze bottles. Squirt the sauces onto your tacos ONLY WHEN YOU’VE BROUGHT THE TACOS TO THE TABLE. I personally don’t even get that far. I eat my tacos standing up, at my kitchen counter, and pretend like I’m at a taco stand in the streets of Tijuana, drunk off tourist tequila and pissed because I’ve foolishly bet all my money on worthless football trifectas.

Incredibly simple 5-spice grilled chicken

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Opening

I like the fowl.

One of the all time faves, for simplicity and comfort, is the whole roasted bird. This bird I’ve done on the grill, back in the day when I used to have a dual burner gas grill. I only lit one side and would alternately move the bird back and forth between lit and unlit halves of the grill, keeping the lid down at all times. An imperfect science, and a method by which I’ve ruined a few morsels. Then I sold the damn grill (and forsaked gas altogether) just when I perfected the method.

You can obviously use the same method with a large Weber kettle grill — which I do. Just build the fire on one half, and maybe employ the use of a drip pan so the delicious fat doesn’t spatter and cause flareups and burn the skin.

Usually I would suggest you tie up the bird with some butcher twine, but goddamnit I was feeling lazy, and plus, I kinda like the way the legs start to kick out when the chicken becomes done. I’ve been known to pull off a leg or two and mack it right there on the spot.

5-spice grilled whole chicken

  • A chicken
  • 4 tablespoons Chinese 5-spice powder
  • 1 teaspoon garlic powder
  • 1/2 tablespoon of: water, fish sauce, rice wine
  • 1 teaspoon kosher salt

Combine the wet ingredients with the dry.

The-Paste

Mix so it becomes a paste.

Marinading

Rub all over the bird (including cavity and under the skin if you’d like) and let it stand for at least a few hours.

Fire up your grill, and grill for an hour or so using the method described earlier. You might want to employ a meat thermometer if you like to do things right. I tend to wing it, much to the detriment of many of my results.

The-Chicken

But this time it turned out well! This bird pairs nicely with steamed jasmine rice.

Di Prima Dolce

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Today I biked over to Los Tres Hermanos taco truck for a quick snack, but, alas, it was closed. I’m not sure if they close during the rainy season or if they are on vacation or what. It is very distressing.

To placate my anxiety and to sate my hankering for a snack, I locked my cruiser across the street in front of Di Prima Dolci. Di Prima is a charming bakery that sells a variety of breads and sandwiches. It’s a cute little place, with about a dozen tables and a row of window seating.

This Saturday they were featuring Sicilian style pizza. I spied fresh, large square pizzas coming fresh out of the oven as I moseyed on up to the counter. I also saw a fresh slice going out (with a nice looking side salad) to a table who had recently placed on order. The owner was working the register, and she told me that the Sicilian pizza will be available Saturdays from here on at $3 a slice (they do Neopolitan style on Thursday/Fridays), and I was mighty tempted.

However, I was in the mood for a sandwich, and the “Di Papa Hero” was the special of the day. It featured cappacolla, soppressata, genoa salami, ham, roasted peppers, olive oil and vinegar — sounded right up my alley. However the $8.75 price gave me pause. I asked if they did a small version of the special (their normal sandwiches come in small/regular size options), but unfortunately this was not the case. As you recall earlier, I told you I only wanted a snack, and seeing as I had a grocery bag with a six pack of french loaves hanging from my handlebars that were soon to become the foundation for ultra delicious banh mi later in the day, I was worried about sandwich overload.

But I decided to throw caution to the wind. You only live once, right? This is a new year, one in which I can take chances and shelve the vicariously living. I’m going to run with scissors this year, swim after eating, and eat as much trans fats and MSG as possible. So fuck it, bring on the overstuffed Italian sandwich just hours before an overstuffed Vietnamese sandwich! I laugh in the face of sandwich burnout. I mock and tease and goad my own appetite — buckle up, you fucking nancy boy.

Anyhow, I sat down and waited for my sandwich to arrive. It did.

And.

Huh.

Ok.

It was served on their football shaped bread, one that resembled a bolillo, with a disproportionate vertical height. And this was not overstuffed. It tasted fine, delicious even, but was pretty low on the meat. And it wasn’t until I was half the way through the thing that I realized I had been royally gyped — no sopresseta or salami! For a near nine dollar sandwich, I was expecting something as engorged as a foie goose’s liver, instead I received a sandwich that had about an 9-to-1 bread-to-meat ratio. Add the dollar I added as a tip (don’t call me a cheapskate – it’s counter service — so STFU and get me a drink), and that’s a $10 sandwich. I examined my ass in the mirror when I got home, and while I didn’t see any major tears, there was redness and swelling and my taint was slightly bruised.

The sandwich was served with a fagioli salad, which is basically greens dressed with legumes, including chickpeas and kidneys.

Will I be back? Yeah. To try the regular sandwich ($7.50) to see if the portion is par for course. I will try the pizza next week. I will also try the sausage bread, which I’ve heard good things about. I’ll also buy some bread here. And I’ll come back for breakfast, as they have that fun item where they hollow out a slice of crusty bread and fry an egg inside. Did I mention I like this place? The owner is a sweetheart, and from what I understand does much for the community through her altruism.

I just wish there had been some foreplay before being bent over.

Di Prima Dolci Italian Bakery
1936 N Killingsworth St
(503) 283-5936

El Burrito Loco

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Loco

El Burrito Loco, which is Spanish for “The Crazy Burrito”, is not the name of a Mexican wrestler, but rather a non-descript taqueria on North Portland Blvd. There are two other locations in Portland, but I haven’t been. I’m not even going to tell you where they are. There.

As the name suggests, this place is evidently proud of its burritos that may or may not have full control over their mental faculties. I’ve even sampled one in the past (carne asada), but I prefer tacos over burritos, and this is taco survey, not a burrito survey. I won’t speak of burritos again.

There are some endearing traits here. The napkin dispenser is on a roll — much like toilet paper — and you have to tear off your napkins, like you would a square to wipe your ass. In addition to featuring squeeze bottle table sauces a la your prototypical taqueria, they also provide Heinz “taco” sauce in small, self-serve, aluminum packets, like as if they wanted to outlame Del Taco’s “Del Scorcher” or Taco Bell’s “Fire” or your average junior high school cafeteria, really. They also feature hard shell tacos at El Burrito Loco, which sets it apart from most taquerias and from most Mexicans, for that matter.

Best of all, in the adjacent dining room from the counter, you can drop some coins into this classic “Michael Jackson’s Moonwalker” video game.

Moonwalker

After throwing down some tacos, it’s always a best practice to bust a moonwalk and fuck up some perps.

On to the tacos.

Tacos

The taco triumvirate. Each taco runs $1.35 apiece. The table sauces (green and red) are serviceable. The green is actually kinda red, and is not your typical verde in that it packs a punch — wielding a few Scoville units — and the red is sauce made mostly from reconstituted dried chilis. Since El Burrito Loco does not have pastor, I subbed their namesake taco.

Loco

This is the “loco” taco. It features shredded beef that’s been simmered in a red chili sauce. It is garnished simply with onions and cilantro. The meat is sort of the pulled variety, and compares favorably I suppose to the “barbacoa” you’d get at the Chipotle chain.

For the most part, I would say I like this. The meat can be flavorful, and the texture can be quite nice. But other times it has been alternately too dry or too mushy, and the portion ample, and some times not so much. If they could consistently get “loco”, then I could recommend it without reservations.

Asada

The asada tacos at El Burrito Loco are probably your best bet. They are generally quite ample, and come dressed with a decent guacamole (and not the weird guacamayo that King Burrito slops on their tacos) and with a nice salsa fresca. The meat is often grilled nicely and full of beefy asada goodness, but on occasions it can tend towards overly greasy.

Carnitas

The carnitas. This isn’t real carnitas, it is simply sliced cubes(!) of pork that have been thrown into a deep fryer. For that alone it deserves six whacks on the wrist and a dozen Hail Mary’s. We will not speak of it again.

El Burrito Loco
1942 N Portland Blvd
Portland, OR 97217
(503) 735-9505

Gayfu

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Houston Chronicle tries to make Texas gay.

Nice article on tofu and origins, including recipes that include soy milk pots de creme (so gay). Even a founding father was bi-curious.

Benjamin Franklin, who was briefly a vegetarian, mentioned “Tau fu” in a letter in 1770, writing in part of “the universal use of a cheese made of (soybeans) in China, which so excited my curiousity . . .”

Speaking of the gayfu spectre, the dude who started it all keeps going. I’m eagerly waiting for part three, which was promised almost a week ago. Let’s hope a WorldNetDaily editor hasn’t come to his senses (which, lucky for us, is unlikely).

USA! USA! USA!

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When Bad Things Come From ‘Good’ Food.

Lately, though, produce has caused a disturbing number of disease outbreaks; just since September, bacteria-tainted tomatoes, spinach and lettuce have made hundreds of people sick, and killed three. There have been 20 serious outbreaks in the past decade or so, and many have come from crops grown in California, not from imports. Fruit juices, alfalfa sprouts and almonds have also been involved — all of them supposedly health foods, like salad, the things we feel most virtuous about eating.

The known outbreaks are just the tip of the iceberg, health officials say; far more illness is never reported. Most people don’t call the health department about a few days of gut trouble. The government estimates that over all, food-borne microbes — not just the ones on produce — make 76 million people a year sick, put 325,000 in the hospital and kill 5,000.

America: an advanced, first world country, purported leader of the free world, where eating your vegetables CAN KILL YOU.

Heckuva job, FreeMarkie!

“There may be some self-regulation from the industry, the growers themselves,” he said. “They have to do something themselves, or else they’re going to lose their market.”

Yes. The market will decide! California energy, Enrononomics and freedom for everyone! George Will says the minimum wage should be zero, and, you know? He’s right!

Pay-as-you will food

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Where “Check Please” is Your Call.

At a new breed of “Robin Hood” restaurants, diners pay what they can afford — and what they think the meal is worth

…

These pay-as-you-can cafes have missions that are unapologetically altruistic—call it serving up fare Robin Hood style. “Our philosophy is that everyone, regardless of economic status, deserves the chance to eat healthy, organic food while being treated with dignity,” explains Brad Birky, who opened SAME with his wife, Libby, in October. Customers who have no money are encouraged to exchange an hour of service — sweep, wash the dishes, weed the organic garden — for a meal. Likewise, guests who have money are encouraged to leave a little extra to offset the meals of those who have less to give.

Sounds very utopian, eh? But all it takes is a few assholes to ruin everything. And if there’s one thing you can count on, it’s that people will be assholes.

If my food sucks, can I ask that you give me money?

God hates Pat Robertson

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Pat Robertson channels GOD.

Evangelical broadcaster Pat Robertson said Tuesday that God has told him that a terrorist attack on the United States would cause a “mass killing” late in 2007.

“I’m not necessarily saying it’s going to be nuclear,” he said during his news-and-talk television show “The 700 Club” on the Christian Broadcasting Network.

“The Lord didn’t say nuclear. But I do believe it will be something like that.”

Robertson said God told him about the impending tragedy during a recent prayer retreat.

…

“I have a relatively good track record,” he said. “Sometimes I miss.”

Well, wouldn’t that be God misleads you? And couldn’t he provide some more details about this “mass killing” so CNN and Fox News can at least mobilize a cadre of blow-dried sycophants to fawn over the horror?

What a dick. Maybe if God wasn’t such a monumental prick to you, Pat Robertson, you’d have more amusement parks with Immaculate Conception theme rides where Jesus-shaped roller coasters emerge from the miraculously fecund vagina of the Virgin Mary.