Tuesday, April 26, 2011

.FOOrD BLOrG. The Revenge of Dr. Pete

This week's post is about small things. Life is really like a series of small things that we perceive as our own unified experience. Am I right? Seriously, am I? Because I have no idea what I was talking about for a second there . I was holding a crystal and listening to Tangerine Dream while taking my Biji when I think I entered a wormhole. Really, I just want to catch up on a few things and life gave me a fantastic experience to share with you. Yup. Get ready to be all shared on. (hmmm)
So chances are a few of you know this story but for those who didn't witness it please sit back and enjoy. What you see in the picture above is a flavor bottle for our new Sodastream machine. Yes it is called Dr. Pete. I think you know why. That is right, little pete is all grown up and he went to med school where he graduated at the top of his class. Now you can drink him.
(it is either that or Dr. Pepper was taken...)When I opened the box for the sodastream I found this flavor and posted it on Path saying something like "who is dr. pete?" Well I found out who he is. He is the man (or woman, sorry about your name) who brings the party!!!

It was easter and Sarah was obliging Dave by making him the Dr. Pete soda. Marisa, Daniel, and I were conversing about traversing the space time continuum or the Harlem Globetrotters or why caterpillars are called caterpillars since they don't look like pillars and they barely cater. (I don't recall which one.) So Sarah has made numerous bottles of sparkling water, just business as usual. Or was it? Because we didn't know it but when you use the sodastream to make a flavored soda you add the flavor after. Yep. After. What happens if you don't? I will tell you.

It explodes.

Luckily there were no casualties except like ten towels and everyones clothes. About the third or 5th time Sarah pushed the bubble button (don't call it that in front of the sodastream, it is very body conscious) it began spraying her with Dr. Pete at a high velocity. It was at this point I believe that she lost her visibility and froze. She stood there in the vicious onslaught of carbonated spray motionless. Yea, she didn't move an inch but what she did do made my life.

She laughed harder and wilder than I have heard her laugh maybe ever. (Now you might not know this because I don't post my private business on the interwebs and social networks but my favorite thing is making her smile and ultimately laugh. Seeing her happy is my number one everything wether I had something to do with it or not.) So there she froze completely unaware that the sodastream shot up into the ceiling and crashed to the floor right next to her. We all saw it and were so glad that she wasn't injured! That f-in thing is heavy. But she didn't, she instead roared with laughter and was soaked in Dr. Pete. Dr. Pete sprayed all over our spices, the ceiling, the cabinets, anyone in the kitchen, the floor.....ok, everything. And it was sticky. The witnesses were all troopers and laughed and helped clean up. (esp. Marisa who is a stand up gal.) How was it?

Well, Dave tried it from a glass and said it tasted like flat Dr. Pepper. Yes, Sarah blew the bubble right out of that Dr. Pete. I tried it off of my arms and it did taste like Dr. Pepper (and arms). So long story short, the sodastream is alive and well but we are rather cautious of it. Like a child who loves the ocean but gets knocked down by a wave. Then the child has a new respect for the ocean. (or it is a big fat crybaby. it is just an ocean.) Only our ocean experience tasted like 23 unique flavors (mine tasted like 23 and arms).

(The sodastream was 99 dolars and if the box had told me this would happen and Sarah would laugh that hard I would have paid 200)
Whoa, wait we are still going after that? We are but I will keep it short I just have some bits to share with you. Yes more sharing of bits. The above beer was found for me by Sarah. I had asked for a special beer for the weekend and she found me this not so little devil. It was fermented with honey and was amber in color. Sadly, that is all I recall of this beer. I know I finished it and I remember the honey lingering on the palette. Personally I like the label. Next!
This is a beer form Astoria. Eh? Not great. Not terrible. How is that for specific? I finished it. Medium bodied and a tad tinny. Whoah!!! Hey look who it is!!!!

Why it is Brian Mumford!!!!!!!!! The nicest man on the planet and a musical gem to boot!
(Don't eat him. I now this is mostly a foord blorg) *go see Dragging an Ox through water or one of his other smart musical outfits.

And lastly,
"THE BOY WHO COULD FLY" IS AN AWESOME MOVIE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

No jokes kids. Fred Savage, tootie from Facts of Life? Come the funk on!!! Trust me when I say give it a re-watch!

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

.FOOrD BLOrG. kom-BOO!-cha

Allow me to preface this post with "This is not a fair fight". Way before even trying Kombucha I hated it. Mainly (and I am not the only one) because of how people talk about it. People go *ape wang about this business. (*ape wang is not a catch phrase yet) People yammer on and on about its supposed health benefits such as metabolic balancer, detoxifier, and probiotics. None of which are scientifically proven. YES. Reread that last sentence. Those dreadlocked white people who are trying to sell you on this don't have a hacky sacking leg to stand on. (not just cuz they are sacking with mother moon stream and brother bear either.) People will go on about how they feel it in them and how it regulates their digestion.

Now incase you don't know what Kombucha is I will simply break it down for you. Kombucha is rotten tea. Yep, your college room mate made Kombucha several times in the kitchen and you didn't even know that dirt munchers would pay you money to drink it and help them poop. I also don't mean to burst their bubble by saying a major side effect of ingesting anything that has rotted is the bacteria will hit the evacuation button for your lower abdomen. That is why they call it food poisoning and not say "I eat raw chicken for the cleanse!" Silly silly organic fools.

Why would hippies buy this you might be wondering? They don't, they just make their own rot tea at home. Seriously and that is why they probably like it. You can create a mother spore and move a sister spore to a new jar....blah blah blah. If you haven't had the misfortune of somebody talking to you about this just look on the interweb. Sick grossness. Sure hippies won't buy it but yuppies will and that is what we have to discuss here.
Both of these were found at the local New Seasons (Natures rip). This first one smelled like feet. The bad kind of feet. Like I imagine the feet of somebody who wears wool socks because it is organic and doesn't bathe because it wastes sky fathers tears. The kind of person who thinks their nose raping, eye blinding stink is attractive and that their beard grease is good to keep their elbows moisturized. (and that is just the ladies) The taste I would say is nothing printed on that label except 'fermented'.

Remember in the last post where I discussed how a few words on a label can make the decision for you? Well, juniper, spearmint, and lemon did that for Sarah and I. Unfortunately, those flavors were masked by the taste of a well sweated on pair of hemp pants after a long Bikram Yoga session. This was sick. We both did not drink much. I had a drink and wanted it out of my mouth so bad that if somebody had said "you will never taste anything close to that again in your life, just listen to half of a coldplay song". I would have thought about it and then done what I did. Which was drink anything else liquid in the fridge and eat some sweetarts. (sweetarts, I am sorry I had to do you that way but I needed relief from oppressive rot drink.) Sarah had maybe three drinks. In all we barely cleared the neck of the bottle before releasing it back into the wild collective stream via the sink. Which reminds me I need to burn some sage in the kitchen.
I needed about a week between kombucha drinks. Not because it messed with my exits or anything. I just didn't want anymore. Alas I had to finish what I started and that meant opening a can of (i wish i was typing :can of whoop ass) *granola gravy. (*not a real term either...i don't think) This yuppie beverage was "better". You can't taste the rot as much and the pear and ginger is more on the fore front. Which is better for me but then why wouldn't I just buy a ginger pear soda? This post aside, I would if I drank soda. So between the two this is the lesser of two evils.

I want to also note that these are in stores so they are quite different than what you make in your stinky home. The beverage home brewed has "strings" in it of fermented tea. By fermented tea I mean mold. Yes, you drink mold strings and get tons of imaginary health benefits! No thanks, if I want to imagine health benefits I will do so in a Bud Light thank you. Komucha also has alcohol in it. .5 percent which is the legal amount for a non alcoholic bevvy. Also there is an off sweetness to the taste which is from that sugar-alcohol conversion situation. I am sure somebody will read this and think it is inacurate (that isn't even spelled write.....and that is the wrong kind of right!) well, I am often not accurate. Deal with it. If I wanted to be all fact spilling I would have gone to college to be an internet. (And not the kind of internet that is all porn and guys getting hit in the junk either.) Before anyone raises their unibrow and says I am being mean on hippies let me say this: In many ways the hippies win. The earth is all jacked up so living green IS cool. There is tax benefits to leaving less of a carbon footprint (even if it is in open toed shoes, you bastards). There is more tree planting and gardens now than in the seventies (I made that up completely but it seems right.) My point in talking about this is that I don't care about your decomposed drink or your cleanse. Which let me just close on that "a cleanse" is just hippie yo-yo dieting. Your liver isn't going to forgive your 115 mai-tais. There I said it. Hippies have people doing more earth huggin' and tree kissing than ever. Be happy about it. Smile those sun weathered hippie lips hiding under that 15 year old boy mustache. (still just the ladies)

The world is full of beverages. Beverages that don't need to be stinky and rotten. We have refridgeration. You can choose something else to drink. Somebody serving me this is like on t.v. where the unattractive guy eats pig anus. If that was me (I wouldn't put my face on t.v. one. and two I might ask what happened to the pig....like the whole pig minus the anus. Because I am sure somebody else will eat that part while I eat the non-anus pork chop).

I am just saying, you could also drink water. Crazy I know. I hear there is science to back that up. (the health benefits of water not me being crazy) Now if you will excuse me my friends wind-feather, patchouli-pixie, and night-soil want me to go play frisbee golf. Peace! One love! Oh and happy 420..........ugh.

Sunday, April 17, 2011

.FOOrD BLOrG. F-U! Iceland

So I have been trying to eat a tad healthier. In my lunches, at work, I replaced thick bread with thin wheat sandwich things. I replaced chips with baked chips and then no chips just carrot sticks. I replaced cheese on my sandwich for juliened carrot and cucumber (ala bahn mi). Lastly I added non-fat yogurt. Super exciting right? I am sure the problem is my lunches and not my 1 billion beer diet. Yeah? huh...... Anyway, no matter the benefits of eating better anything can become boring. So some days it is good to get a different yogurt or what have you just to keep things fresh....sometimes.Now I didn't know what Icelandic style yogurt is. However, I do now know that I don't like it. Have you ever noticed that just one word or a combination of two and you have to get whatever it is? For instance I recently was at Tabla celebrating (with Sarah and Dave) an awesome couple tying the knot. (Cheers Pat n Em) and a cocktail had "clove salt". I had to try it. It was lame. But that combo made me buy it...or somebody else buy it but that isn't the point. When I saw this yogurt I thought 'Yum'. Little did I know that Icelandic people are disgusting ice trolls who simply want you to hate your mouth for a moment. (Note: the people of iceland are not trolls. I am pretty sure anyway.)

The appearance of this yogurt was thick. Like unbelievably thick and there were visible bits of something. My spoon reluctantly dug into this thick heavy sludge and I even more reluctantly lifted the spoon and put it into my mouth. Not the whole spoon just the part with goop on it. Now I have tasted a fair amount of things and usually I can hate on something that I don't enjoy the taste of. But this was so sick I actually jumped over that step and just hated my mouth for existing. What did it taste like? Like losing. Like losing in a poop eating contest. You know, like you lost and you ate poop.

I didn't taste ginger or orange. I tasted sort of sour..not good sour..and thick. It seriously coated my mouth like nothing ever has and it clung to the insides of my mouth and coated my tongue. I tried coffee to no avail. Same outcome with water. My only savior was carrots which scraped away the horrid yogurt offender. I did not take a second taste. I won't be getting this again. If you want to, head on over to New Seasons and spend 2 bucks on an Icelandic practical joke. Later.

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

.FOOrD BLOrG. mYStErY.....................(something to chew on)

For the past few posts I have had an idea in the back of my mind. The concept of taste. What is its mysterious origin within us all? And how does that taste shape us?.... I won't get too into all of that (because my mind often dislikes finished thoughts) but as I approached this post all about gum I thought this might be an opportune time to 'chew' on the idea. (cuz the post is about gum...... and you have to chew gum......well, I guess you don't have to but it is more enjoyable....eh hem.)

I have come to realize over the years how much my personal tastes have isolated me in some ways. For instance at work where people discus sports and fantasy sports I have no taste for those things and therefor no place in the conversations. I don't listen to the radio in order to discover new bands or watch those Mtv shows that pay people who ruin their lives money. (I think the latter of those two is about one step from a disability reality show for people to laugh at.) I have no taste for it. Does that make me cool to listen to different music or to not watch those shows? No. I argue that all those things are driven by taste. There are days when I wish that my taste was different because it would be easier to feel included. For some reason I can't.
(cue: Joy Division 'ISOLATION')

When I was in first grade my mom could look out the kitchen window and see me sitting on a bench by myself watching the other kids play together. I guess I still am that same little boy only now that boy is listening to Third Eye Foundation and putting weird snacks in his mouth.
Which brings us to our first gum:
I am pretty sure Sarah got this for me but she may have found it in NY....hmmm. Anyway, it says SOUR so it has to be sour right? N-O-O-O-P-E. (that is like super nope) When I opened it I felt a weird wash of nostalgia. Something familiar and yet not the good kind of familiar. Oh yes, FRUIT STRIPE! That stupid gum that looked fun but had all of a second worth of flavor, if you call that a flavor. It was more like somebody chewed a piece of gum with a chunk of pouperie and breathed into your mouth. Hopefully this will taste better. Nope. Although the flavor lasted 2 minutes. Almost. So plus 50 points. (yeah I added points to entice the sports crowd...) But the paper stuck to the stick of gum so minus 800 flags and bases.
I don't know anything about this gum. I bought it blindly at an Italian grocery in NY. I could google it but I like adventure when it comes to these things. As I opened the package I smelled something familiar again. Chicklets. AWE MAN. (minus fifteen chest bounces if this is a chicklet...) And here is when surprise comes into play. . . It looked like a rectangle with round edges and crunched like a chicklet but it tasted like mentholatum. Like when you were a kid and you put it under your nose and licked it on kinda accident. But in gum form. The flavor lasted about a minute and a half. (so plus some sliding and putting things aggresivly in basket shapes where it just falls out and repeat.) *This is going well.
What? Hubba Bubba has a mystery for me to solve with my mouth? Well, detective tounge is here! ugh. Forget that last part...or two parts. While we are on the subject of mysteries. What is a hipster? I know what I picture and that is a person who dresses in a certain way to get attention. Why would anyone do that? If it wasn't for some reason comforting to me to have a lesbian haircut, over manicured eyebrows, and a lip piercing I wouldn't. I don't want anyone looking at me. I bought invisible spray but it got lost in the mail. (cuz it was invisible).....(and so was the mailing address sticker for some reason)

This gum was also nostalgic because it is freakin Hubba Bubba. It smelled like Hubba Bubba. My favorite flavor of which is cherry cola. This flavor smells like cherry lemonade so I am down. The piece was yellow on the outside and red in the center. It looked like a fat Bonker. (if you remember bonkers....) the taste was..............cherry lemonade. I am almost certain. You know when they make Airheads, the way they get a mystery flavor? It is the by product of changing from one flavor to another. Rather than stop the machines or throw the weird candy out they just call it 'mystery'. Bet you didn't know that?!? Amazing I know. ( Try working that into a conversation about Ke$ha or the Bulls) Oh, the flavor lasted around six minutes but that is a long time to intensely salivate. (So Hubba is up a quarter and down a penalty box...or something)

In closing, I don't mean to sound special in anyway. Quite the contrary, I think everyone has different tastes but if they are similar to others in large margins you look to be apart of a whole of something. Ah, who knows. Not me, I just know that it is weird for me now to watch children play on a playground.