Foodette Reviews

Gross Food Week #7: Walden Farms Calorie Free Marshmallow Dip

2012-01-28T20:17:00.005-05:00

Ah, yes, Walden Farms. We used to go there on field trips when I was a waifish little girl. Take a stroll past the emaciated cows, lowing for calorie-free feed and water as the calorie-free breeze blew gently on your face. Old Farmer Walden would strap up ol' Treadmill, the starving mare, and we'd take a ride around the field, its crops skinny and sexy as always, the abundant corn and wheat sheaves nearly translucent after shedding all those calories.
Those were the good old days, and no trip would be complete without a taste of Mrs. Farmer Walden's special calorie-free marshmallow dip. Of course, this was before WalCorp bought out the farm, but it was just as heavenly as it could be- just like the real, horrifically fatty obese child snack, only...more wholesome. Ha ha, no it wasn't. I'm just screwing with you. In fact, this has the air of a product made prior to a big corporate buy-out. With its incredibly precious label and short ingredient list, it almost does look like something that an ingenious housewife would whip up in her kitchen, until you open the jar. Shit is downright chemical.
For a brief, miserable summer, my dad decided to teach me some of the basic intricacies of home repair. One of the only things I retained from that summer was how to properly wield an axe to chop firewood, how to perfect my summer burn while lounging outside watching actual home improvement workers do their jobs, and how to use caulk in a small imperfection in an area. Lest you underestimate my mettle, know that this is typical behavior. Because this post isn't about calorie-free axe murder or harassing working people, let's see if you can figure out where this is heading. Caulk is not edible, but appears to be. But if you're a closeted pica sufferer, I've got great news: Walden Farms Calorie Free Marshmallow Spread is as close as you can get to legally ingesting caulk, and it's sort of, kind of, real food.
Let's get the legal mess out of the way: according to the FDA guidance, compliance, and regulatory information, chapter 9, appendix A, the definitions of nutrition claims, a product is able to state that it is "calorie-free" if it has 5 or less calories per serving. You will receive no legal compensation for ingesting eighty jars of this and getting fat. But it's not even worth your zero to five calories per serving. With a perpetually cold, thick texture, like cold cream without the lingering scent of baby powder, and a pure white color that absorbs all darkness and shadows, it's definitely providing all of the defensive indicators to alert you not to consume it. But we forge on, as always. It has a congealed, wet smell like molding wood, with a harsh sugary edge behind it, like the sweet powdered sugar and corn starch scent on marshmallows. It's not quite a solid and yet too gelatinous to be a liquid, and falls off both spoons, knifes, and fingers, leaving a watery, chalky smear of a trail in its wake. Think saturated marshmallows that have taken a trip down the river, capisce?
The flavor is downright abrasive, with a hideous gloppiness, like poorly cooked pudding, that doesn't disappear once placed on the tongue. It's similar to taking an injection of Splenda right into the vein. Any trace of vanilla that was once in this, or at least near this, was absorbed by the great white mass and spat out into the ether, never to be seen again. The flavor is part synthetic and part Elmer's glue, with an emphasis on the latter. It's heinous. There's no better way to tell you. It's nothing like marshmallows, dip, or marshmallow fluff, which I took out to remind myself what real fake marshmallow spread is like. Phew. This product isn't worth saving its exaggerated, implausible claim of 330 calories a day. You're better off eating actual caulk and sealing your own mouth shut. I'm just thankful I didn't spring for the zero calorie peanut butter and make myself a FlufferHater sandwich.

Gross Food Week #6: Nexcite

2012-01-27T20:38:00.004-05:00

I suppose I've developed a little reputation for myself. The Huffington Post described us as "no holds barred," while my own family took the more direct approach and wondered if we weren't "pushing the line." Frankly, I just like to think of myself as the girl who tried all of the carbonated sexual aphrodisiacs the world has to offer. Simple pleasures, that's what defines me.
This particular beverage came to the United States by way of hatred and copyright infringement in equal doses. Nexcite, a whimsical Swedish penis pumper, is a soda designed to provide a proprietary formula of herbal extracts and caffeine with which will fuel your manbits like no other. Like no other, I say! And because it was fifty cents on clearance and had a rabbit on the label, I tried it for you today. The soda is Viagra blue and smells like an energy drink, if an energy drink was consumed by a toddler and vacated with 50% more melted blue Jolly Ranchers than it originally contained.
It just leads me to wonder, why oh, why would the manufacturers of this drink make it bright blue and candy-scented? With its cute bunny logo, it's just asking to be guzzled by a small child. Or worse yet, it's all getting clearer to me now. With its emasculating smell and antifreeze pallor, it's the perfect way to get a little kink into the bedroom by tricking your man into thinking he's about to down a shot of Prestone. The five supplements, not to be confused with the fifty ways to leave your lover, which yours will undoubtedly do after watching you wince this down, are as follows: Yerba mate, an herb traditionally used in hot tea, which everyone knows makes you look brooding and sensitive, damiana, nature's off-brand Viagra, illegal in Louisiana, ginseng and guarana, everyone's favorite acid-flavored energy drink supplement, and last but not least, schizandra. This is not a Mary Sue-esque Final Fantasy character as I initially thought. It's a Chinese berry that aids in soothing the symptoms of Irritable Bowel Syndrome. How sexy is that?
Nexcite tastes like the darker side of liquified cotton candy and green tea mixed together at a frat party. It's both bitter and overly sweetened and as a flavor best described as being throat-punched by a lime, with a potently sour aftertaste like a Warhead. Extremely sugary, in a weird way that sticks to your gums and works its way into the crannies of your mouth, like sexual harassment for your teeth. It numbed my taste buds for a good ten seconds after each sip, which I suppose aids in diffusing some sexual tension if you're not sure of, how shall we put it, the provenance of some particular after-dinner treats you may partake in. This'll fix you good. In regards to the state of my sexual performance prior to and after consuming this drink, I can't tell you if it helped. I was too busy looking slack-jawed at the recommendation on the side of the bottle: "As a supplement, drink 1-8 bottles a day." Holy crap, Nexcite, I'm a woman, not a machine. Here's to drinks directly fueling the sex working industry, one male gigolo at a time.

Gross Week #5: Kraft Macaroni and Cheese Grilled Cheese Explosion

2012-01-26T20:35:00.006-05:00

Ugh, I just had a grilled cheese explosion all over my sweatpants. Too much? Perhaps. One might even call it...wait for it...cheesy. I'd personally call it a gloopy, room temperature mess. Welcome to our fifth day of Gross Week, readers. Here's the Kraft Macaroni and Cheese Grilled Cheese Explosion, brought to you by bewildered kittens! Hold your horses, adult baby fetishizers- this is so easy you won't have to have your aging mom make it for you.
How many different ways can companies try to shuffle around cheese, anyway? Seeing asiago Cheetos and camembert Easy Cheez just bothers me. It all tastes like the basic, vaguely tangy saltfest we all know and love. I'm not quite eager to whip out a bag of ten-year old vintage Ritz Bits with aged cheddar, if you know what I mean. So the Kraft Grilled Cheese Explosion, now with 100% more splooging on the package, eschews the familiar elbow macaroni format for little ditalini noodles. All the better to hold you with, I suppose. These looked appetizing dry but took on a translucent, slippery quality unlike any pasta I've had recently. It definitely wasn't how I remembered eating it as a child.The directions for Kraft's mac and cheese have also changed, in no part due to their stellar legal team fighting the obesity crisis. What used to be the "light" instructions in small print on the bottom of the box has now replaced the classic preparation and has cut the butter and milk in half. Of course, this doesn't hinder you from adding a half stick of butter rather than a half tablespoon as I did as a child, but does try to detract and sort of screws with the ratios of the proper sauce mixture. When mixed, the entire pot of pasta seizes up unpleasantly instead of melting into a nice sauce, and the cheese powder never quite loses its grainy texture. I was surprised at how large the individual grains of powder were- they were more corrugated and crystallized than the fine powder of yore but surprisingly flavorless.
Despite smelling sharp, like actual cheddar, the only noticeable flavor was incredibly offputting, reeking of salt and butter, and not just the butter I added. It had more of a fake butter quality to it, making it more appropriately flavored as "$9 movie theatre popcorn" and had a clumpy, weirdly thick texture. Even after adding more than the recommended amount of milk, the sauce separated in some parts and seized in others, leaving each spoonful half-full of milky, runny sauce and half-full of chunks of undissolved powder.
As much as I love macaroni and cheese, this was inedible. Add its poor flavor to the confusing fact that there are two more of these "cheese explosion" varieties and you have a god-awful tasting menu. I don't understand how Kraft's menu team translated grilled cheese to a butter-on-butter sleazefest, but there you have it. Even piling a bit on top of a homemade nugget with some hot sauce like a cheap wedding appetizer didn't help it. It was a veritable onslaught of hypertension crammed into small tubes.

Gross Food Week #4: The Hungry Ghost Bakery, Northampton, MA

2012-01-25T19:37:00.011-05:00

In planning out my selections for Gross Week, I initially thought it would be overkill to include a restaurant in an undoubtedly negatively centered theme. However, after trying the pizza at The Hungry Ghost Bakery in Northampton, Massachusetts, all bets are off. To some Northamptonites, this review will strike the wrong chord. They will place it in the same shock category as a "Nobama" bumper sticker. The Hungry Ghost, a two-time James Beard semifinalist, is a small town staple atop a small hill in the center of town, flanked by office buildings and groceries just off the main drag. When I first came here for school, it was all everyone spoke about.
"Oh, you must try the Ghost- they only bake one kind of specialty bread a day and don't bake any more when they run out! The owner wrote a ballad about the bakery! They have a schedule for their bread." Handwritten menus and a shabby workspace pass for status indicators in this area, I noticed. In fact, I entered the bakery twice prior to their late 2011 renovation and left before ordering as I was appalled with the putrid state of conditions there. Formerly a dusty, dank bakery, albeit one with lovely smells, the reviews of The Hungry Ghost's bread range from passionate to pallid. But it was their recent renovation and switch to pizza that piqued my curiosity one evening, prompted by an October 2011 review by Serious Eats writer Liz Bomze, when the bakery had first branched out to pizza. I'm not one to place SE on a pedestal, but I respect their input and recognize their experience in eating many different types of pizza, so their range of comparison would be vast and hopefully serve as a good benchmark for my own experience.
What Liz described as "some of the best pizza in New England" was something I wouldn't have the heart to feed my dog. (Who, for the record, was raised on New Haven apizza crusts slipped under the table.) Perhaps this would pass for good pizza to someone who was heretofore fed exclusively Domino's and Digiorno, but for a Connecticut resident, this barely has the life and character of a freezer-burnt Ellio's. Entering the bakery, we were the only patrons yet stood for a few minutes as the cashier finished a lengthy conversation about boys with a friend of hers. When we made a motion to order and ask for a recommendation, as it was our first time checking the place out, it was made painfully clear that the delicate rhythm of the discourse was disrupted by our presence. This was reflected in the service. Hideously annoyed that her soliloquy about menfolk was stopped in its tracks, the cashier was surly, exhibiting a vapid passivity nearing autistic levels, thrusting a paper menu toward us and all but telling us to go screw ourselves. Any further requests for recommendations yielded blank stares and eye rolls.
We finally agreed to try their margherita pizza, a basic set of flavors that, when done well, transport the eater back to summertime. A simple choice for a first time. Informed that the pizza would take twenty minutes to cook, a strangely long time in a brand new Llopis wood-fire oven, we were told to come back. We perused a local deli and returned only to be informed that the bakery was cash-only. No signage alerted us to this fact, nor did our server choose to capitalize on our twenty minute wait by offering up this fact. Thus, our pizza was delayed another ten minutes as we found an ATM per her vague directions and went on our way.
That ten minutes made no difference at all. In fact, I doubt ten seconds would have made a difference, because this pizza was abhorrent both hot and cold. For starters, the composition. A margherita pizza is retardedly simple: tomatoes, mozzarella, basil, and a little extra virgin olive oil. Our pizza had rivulets of grease pocking its surface and running down the sides and into the crust and was sparse in the basil department. Apparently there's a shortage of skimpy, free-range basil leaves in the region. Fresh tomatoes were replaced with what tasted like canned tomato sauce, and the cheese was barely browned. Checking out the upskirt, we were once again dismayed by the shoddy performance of this seemingly new oven. I'm not sure if the owners got an upcycled oven or if it was left on the curb and posted on freecycle, but it yielded a flaccid, soggy crust with a gummy interior, each piece collapsing on itself, saturated and glistening with more oil than a male model and shedding dandruffy flakes of cornmeal and flour when moved from box to plate.
The first few bites of each slice were wet, thick, and slimy, the result of the copious amounts oil migrating to the center of the pie. With each bite, I was waiting for International Bird Rescue to come clean my mouth in the same way oiled seagulls are cleaned after a disaster. $13 bought an extremely bland, oversweetened twelve inch pizza that left a sheen on our lips and carried a pervasively annoying sourdough tang, more tangy and sour than their bread. I've suffered from heartburn with a more nuanced flavor than this.
Unfortunately, Jesus did not grace our grease-stained napkin with His presence. He must have seen our pitiful meal and appeared in the craggy crust of a McNugget across the street instead.
An undistinguished and frugally filled alfajore did not make for a delightful end to the meal.
We had structured our day around getting this pizza tonight. I'm just pleased that we didn't go "full pizza" and snag more than one pie or even upgrade to a larger size. This was so unappetizing that we didn't even bother to sit down at the table with it, much less open the bottle of Mondavi we'd left chilling for the occasion. From the many Bret Easton Ellis novels and old issues of the New Yorker I've perused, I gather that high-end restaurants of the 80's were proud of being stingy and standoffish, cultivating the type of clientele who would know better than to question the difference between ceviche and cilantro. I don't, however, understand why this snobby "value" is superimposed onto the more mediocre examples of fine dining I've seen in small towns. It seems like a certain strain of naive people equate this attitude with quality dining, and it unfortunately causes restaurants like this to thrive where they can be king of the college pizza scene. Hungry Ghost comes across as a ludicrously arrogant big fish in a small pond. The hype is not deserved.

Gross Food Week #3: Jeff's Chocolate Soda

2012-01-24T15:52:00.005-05:00

Guys, I just discovered instagram. And you know what else I discovered? Jeff's Chocolate Soda. And you know what else I just discovered, today? The futility of mankind and the heartbreaking realization that we're all doomed, man, you know? Probably as a result of this soda's existence. All three are connected. Come, let's take a journey.
Jeff's Chocolate Soda, found in a Stop and Stop but easily purchased at www.getcreamed.net, the only non-porn website on the planet with an extremely porn-like name, is the end of mankind. Nowhere else can a label entice you with 50's style clip art graphics and brutally pervert you with a singular message. Get creamed. And by all means, the package warns you, do not shake this beverage. Why that is is not explicitly stated, but I think we can all figure out the rest.
The chocolate soda is 97% fat free and 99% flavor free, too, and allows you to get your daily recommended value of authentic Tootsie Roll flavor without compromising your lack of dignity. The soda smells like marshmallow cream and is a little salty, a scent that, combined with its visual euphemisms, makes this feel like an episode of dirty Blue's Clues. Luckily, this off scent disappears quickly after opening the bottle and does not translate to the drink's flavor. It has a thick texture that straddles a line between saliva and whipping cream- not quite solid, but nearing dangerous levels of mucus. It comes out of the bottle matte brown with a few runny bubbles on its surface. It's not a very appealing beverage for this and many other reasons.
I will give it this; for a soda containing one gram of fat, it certainly packs an enjoyable and authentic Dutch chocolate flavor. It is fair, simple, and immediately chocolatey- again, much like a Tootsie Roll. That's presumably also where the 48 grams of sugar (per 12 ounces) come in. With a soda like that, who needs enemies? This is a scant 5 grams of sugar away from beating out Sunkist as the world's worst soda, according to Men's Health. If poor Paula Deen wasn't already diagnosed with Type II Diabetes, one or two of these would have easily done the trick.
Unfortunately, I can't say I'm impressed. This soda's future is bleak if the company thinks it can ride with the big boys successfully on sugar and catcalls alone. For the sake of my health and my sense of humor, Miss Love and I will be sticking with something lighter and will likely find a more satisfying way to get creamed without all that fluff.

Gross Food Week #2: Yoplait Splitz Birthday Cake

2012-01-23T21:29:00.006-05:00

Long-time reader MrsBug was being optimistic when she commented that Gross Week could only improve from here. So, riddle me this: is there birthday cake in hell? The obvious answer is "no" as there are no birthdays, but I'll leave that one up to the theologians. After tasting Yoplait's birthday cake flavored yogurt, I can definitely assure you that there is some form of birthday cake in hell, as this is as abominable as they come. Yoplait's new Splitz line, which coincidentally sounds like an incredibly flexible line of Bratz spinoff dolls, combines flavors of foods that traditionally come in or eventually turn into liquid form: rainbow sherbert, strawberry banana split, and strawberry sundae.
And then there's birthday cake. Yes, now you can have your cake and eat your live bacteria, too. As you can see on the package, they're not talking about some sexy Elizabeth Faulkner-commissioned dealy either. We're talking low budget, half-off day old birthday cake with Cool Whip frosting and a misspelled name in cursive. Classic grocery store fare, misery guaranteed. Ignore the festive bunting and sprinkles: it all tastes the same after the first bite.
This is something a kid gets when his dad has a new hippie girlfriend he's trying to impress. He can't shake the novelty of buying dessert-flavored products but has switched to yogurt for the kids to look like he doesn't order Taco Bell for dinner most nights a week.
The yogurt is translated into a "layered" format with a frosting-inspired layer and a cake-flavored base, all studded with sprinkles. It's the little sister of its adult counterparts scientifically designed to make adults resent dessert. Weirdly enough, the yogurt definitely smells like vanilla cake frosting but does not taste like it at all. There's that weird super-vanilla flavor all yogurt has, the one that tries to be dessert but simply lacks the sugar to do so. The creaminess is indulgent and thick with a solid body to it that makes it feel less like light yogurt. I feel like I'd have enjoyed this more if it was a pudding. It just seems like it's tiptoeing the line between health food and dessert and falling off to its death.
Even sampling this frozen didn't improve its flavor. As a child, I had a friend whose birthday fell on Passover every year. Her Orthodox mother would always make her a birthday cake that looked beautiful, but had a strangely subdued, bready flavor that put it squarely in the savory category rather than dessert. This yogurt brought back memories of those awful cakes because it had the same visual appeal with the same disappointing flavors, only this time I wasn't encouraged to have seconds and didn't have to play with pipe cleaners afterwards due to there being no television to entertain ourselves with.
The sprinkles, typically the most enjoyable part of a birthday cake, made this one fall apart worse than a Cake Wreck. For whatever reason, they were grossly oversized and rather waxy, giving the impression of biting into a crayon every few spoonfuls. Their two-tone neon color did no favors to the anemic yogurt and tasted bitter, much like the Funfetti sprinkles in my failed pancake experiment. If you're feeding this to your kid on their birthday, they're either ingesting this via IV because an actual cake was too difficult to liquify or you should have had your genitalia removed years ago. Yoplait has made birthdays sad even for the under-10 set now.

Gross Food Week #1: The Original Hooters Medium Wing Sauce

2012-01-22T08:01:00.001-05:00

HOOTERS WHHHYYYYYYY???

Sorry, I just had to get that out of my system. With that exuberant commencement speech, let us begin Gross Week 2012. Today's selection embodies all of the principles that I consider to be important for this theme week, namely, that it is a proudly licensed product aggressively marketed by its source and even touted as "secret", that it is a disturbing shade of nuclear hazard orange, and that it was 99 cents at a grocery clearance store. The fact that it is not, like so many products at this store, past its sell date should give you a taste of its quality already.
Where to begin? There's just so much to cover on the label alone. Let's start with the lusty endorsement from the Hooters owl himself, "A thrill on the grill BBQ!" It doesn't take a professor with a Ph.D in Lolology to figure out how Engrishy that is. Despite my suspicions that this was some sort of perverted and failed test item, it turns out that Hooters still makes this sauce, selling it for a mere $7 on the interwebz, and still employs this awful catch phrase. Reading further, I caught the official Hooters logo emblazoned no less than four times on the jar. Either they're trying really, really hard to prevent copyright theft or they're actually proud of this product.
The directions on the side (whose inaccuracies I'll later explain) also provide a list of recommendations of foods with which you can drown in this sauce. Surprisingly, slathering the sauce on the breasts of an after-hours Hooters waitress is not one of them. There goes my bucket list. The cooking process sounded easy enough- fry up some wings, toss them in the sauce, enjoy with a side of classified ads to wipe away the tears and excess dribblings. Not so terrible, right?

AHHHHHHHH
AHHHHHHHHHHH
AHHHHHHH!!!!!!!
Oh my god, it's like the bastard child of napalm and nacho cheese. My hatred for Robin Williams and Spy Kids has nothing on this one. I think you get the picture. Yep, nasty surprise number two- the sauce had the texture of cold margarine and the smell of gasoline, Tabasco, and melting plastic. This in no way felt like something I should have put near my face, much less ingest. And I haven't a clue why the instructions said to shake the jar first- it's about as productive as shaking a jar of peanut butter. But readers, like a dutiful serf, what I do, I do for you. And so I began the process of cooking my wings.
I decided to try this on both breaded and non-breaded wings to get an idea as to how it adhered to the chicken. Huge mistake on my part. On both applications, the sauce had the softness of warm yogurt and melted like butter on toast. On the pieces of unbreaded chicken, it left no more than a slick trail on the skin and clumped at the bottom of the plate, and on the breaded pieces, it melted into the nooks and crannies and separated almost immediately after sticking on. It felt like the sauce was too runny to handle any temperature above lukewarm, yet was so congealed in its original form that it was also unable to function as a dipping sauce.
Once the wings were no longer molten and ready to eat, the sauce returned to its original liquid consistency, that of a melted almond bark coating, and shellacked the wings to the plate, rendering them mere components in a disgusting and inedible art project and requiring the force of a fork and knife to remove them from their glued-on state. Taking this photo was easy as they remained preserved in their original positions on the plate, held upside down, for over two minutes.
It tasted rancid. This is exactly the kind of product that aspires to be a hot mess and fails miserably. There was literally no element of this that made it appear edible, much less palatable. The heat is warm, but no warmer than a hamburger sitting next to a bottle of mediocre hot sauce and certainly not at the level of any Buffalo wing you'll find at a sports bar. It has an oily, thick consistency not unlike facial cream, were said facial cream purchased at a dollar store and had a slight numbing effect on the lips. It tastes predominantly of vinegar and Crisco with an aggressively salty bite and leaves a buttery slick all the way down the throat. The sauce had the unique ability to permeate through even the thickest flour breading on a wing, saturating the meat so with its liquid ass flavor and rendering every single wing I made inedible. Lest you worry that I went hungry, I thankfully deployed my backup wing supply with a hot honey and red pepper flake sauce and ate them with gusto.
Congratulations, Hooters. In the world of successful marketing vehicles, this sauce is the abandoned flaming Pinto on cinder blocks with a tarp and headless doll in the trunk.

Sweet Potato Currywurst

2012-01-21T17:34:00.005-05:00

It's snowing. I have Queen's Greatest Hits (Vol. 1) on and I'm making an appropriately wintry dish for a god-awful day. I'm singing along to "Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy" like I was born to and am simply ecstatic (read: terrified) to start Gross Week tomorrow.
I figured I'd leave you all with an easy, healthy recipe before I spend a week face-deep in curdled sauces and creepy candies. Boy, are you in for a treat. Tonight's recipe features my twist on the sweet and spicy flavors highlighted in the traditional German street food, currywurst. If you've never had currywurst, think of it as the German poutine. It's hearty and healthy and, as a bonus, contains all of the best major food groups: meat, potatoes, and a rich sauce. This recipe swaps out the pork sausage for chicken, adds a little meat to the sauce to boost its protein content and make it a little thicker, and ditches the French fries for baked chipotle sweet potato fries. It's a delicious evening indeed when fries and sausage are the stars of the dinner plate.
Sweet Potato Currywurst
Ingredients (serves 2)

Sweet Potato Fries
1 sweet potato
1/2 teaspoon of chipotle powder
1/2 teaspoon of curry powder
1/2 teaspoon of salt
1/2 teaspoon of pepper
2 teaspoons of oil

Currywurst
2 chicken sausages, pre-cooked
1 cup of shredded chicken
1/2 cup green pepper, diced
1 12 oz. can of tomato paste or sauce (alternative: 1 1/2 cups of curried or spicy ketchup. I happened to have some on hand and used it.)
1 teaspoon of honey
2 tablespoons of curry powder
1/2 teaspoon of cumin
1 teaspoon of masa harina, mixed with a few tablespoons of water until blended
1/2 teaspoon of cracked black pepper
1/2 teaspoon of salt
Hot sauce to taste
1. Start by preheating your oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit and setting a medium-sized saucepan on the stove on low to medium heat.
2. Place your sausages in the pan, allowing them to brown and crisp. Cut your sweet potato into fry-sized strips and place in a bowl of warm water for ten minutes to remove excess starch.
3. Pat fries dry. Mix spices and oil together for the fries and toss with fries until evenly coated. Place fries on baking sheet in a single layer and bake for 25-30 minutes or until golden and crispy.
4. Take sausages out when they are browned and put chicken, pepper, tomatoes (or ketchup), honey, cumin, and curry powder in the pan. Simmer for five to seven minutes or until bubbling gently and add masa and water to thicken and salt, pepper, and hot sauce to taste. Cut the sausage pieces into slices when cool to the touch.
5. To serve, place fries on a plate or in a bowl with sausage pieces on top. Ladle sauce over the top and sprinkle a little cilantro or cumin on top as a garnish.
Is this the real life? Hell yes, and you can eat it.

GIVEAWAY: $50 Gift Card to a Mohegan Sun Restaurant

2012-01-20T17:07:00.005-05:00

Next weekend is the Mohegan Sun Wine Festival. We're totally going and will report back on all the awesome details, but we (with a little help from the cool people at Mohegan Sun) want you to have some fun, too. Who's up for a $50 gift card to any of Mohegan's best restaurants? This includes top chef favorites like Bobby Flay's Bar Americain, which we may soon be writing up, or Todd English's Tuscany, and new kid on the block Ballo, which we've previously covered here. Or maybe you'd rather spend it on one of Mohegan's buffets or get $50 worth of awesome pizza at Frank Pepe Pizzeria.
Regardless of what you choose, the first person to correctly identify this food and email me the answer at foodette.reviews@gmail.com will win the gift card. Mohegan Sun is in Uncasville, Connecticut, so this is perfect if you're a regular or are planning a trip to the casino. And check out the wine festival details while you're at it! If you're interested in going it's not too late! The festival starts Friday, January 27th and runs until Sunday, January 29th. Tickets range from $70-135 for the main event with seminars running $50-65 a pop.
For more information, follow @sunwinefest on Twitter or check out the event's website. Hope to see you there! Check back tonight to see the winner of the slow cooker giveaway! THE CONTEST IS NOW CLOSED! CONGRATULATIONS TO DANIEL, OUR WINNER FOR CORRECTLY GUESSING THE DISH! It was Khao Niaow Ma Muang, Thai sticky rice and custard! Also, props to JunkFoodGuy for guessing it first...next time I'm in DC we'll get grasshopper tacos together!

Slow Cooker Winner!

2012-01-20T11:52:00.003-05:00

Dear readers,

The entries for the slow cooker contest ranged from breakfast to dinner, with snacks and sweets in between, and featured recipes from grandmas, blogs, favorite websites, and special cookbooks. There were many recipe entries, all ones I'd love to try, and I couldn't pick just one- I wanted to give you all slow cookers and force you into an awkward dinner party, so I left the task up to Keepitcoming Love.

The winner of the West Bend Versatility cooker is...Gwen! Gwen's recipe was for slow cooker mussels in white wine. We both liked the fact that it had a minimal ingredient list with easy preparation and no additional steps outside of turning on the cooker. We'll be featuring the recipe soon on the site. For the rest of you, don't despair! We'll be cooking your recipes and enjoying them all winter. Expect more fun giveaways in the future!

Foodette

Laloo's Goat's Milk Deep Chocolate Ice Cream

2012-01-19T10:12:00.005-05:00

Ah, remember those blissful times when I assured you that I rarely contract illnesses of any sort? How confident and young I was in that time. It seems like only three weeks ago that I convinced you that I was some schlubby superwoman with lungs of steel, and now look at me. I'm bleary-eyed and congested two ways to Sunday and wandering around in an pseudoephedrine-induced haze because that is indeed how I roll when I got a col'...d. It's the worst kind of illness because it keeps you up late at night without any of the fun and photobomb aftermath of a college party but all of the post-shenanigan symptoms. I'm too tired to get up and do anything productive but too energetic to nap for another week. Hell, I don't even care enough to make myself matzo ball soup, so I'm settling for the next best thing: chocolate goat's milk ice cream.
Yes, bubbies everywhere are shaking their heads and dropping their Arnold Scaasi-designed knitting needles. I've foregone the pervasive soup bowl and picked up a goddamned spoon. Two pieces of vital information prior to the shakedown: this ice cream was free, courtesy of Laloo's. This ice cream was also seven freaking dollars and forty-two freaking cents at my local freaking organic co-op. Seven fitty for a pint of chocolate ice cream. Let that sink in and then, mom, understand that I did not pay real people money for this, because that would be insane. One tenth of a law school application (the part where you compose an essay in Twitter form) and one half of a movie ticket in Connecticut equals this ice cream. Laloo's is an ice cream company specializing in lactose-friendly goat's milk based ice creams with superior digestability. It's ripe with probiotic power and I imagine it gives Activia a run for its money in both the olfactory and Jamie Lee Curtisian factors. With flavors like cajeta de leche and black mission fig, the company intrigued me. Despite my ambivalence to goat cheese, I gave it a go. This ice cream thankfully lacks some of the stronger, brettier flavors goat cheese typically carries, but has a rounded complexity that makes it present, but not front and center, on the palate. So, caprophobics needn't run in the other direction.
This flavor, Deep Chocolate, boasts a short ingredient list with 77% Scharffenberger dark chocolate front and center and a surprisingly low caloric content- 160 calories and 6 grams of fat for half a cup. That doesn't really help considering that I polished off the container in a day and a half, but works if you actually eat in moderation. Ahem. The chocolate flavor is fantastic, with a rich, silky flavor redolent with cocoa and a slightly salted, milky aftertaste that reminds me of eating bittersweet chocolate chips. The chocolate is distinct with none of that ubiquitous "chocolate flavoring" stuff typically employed in supermarket brands. That flavor alone compelled me to eat most of the pint, with no additional ingredient hacking. I was surprised that my sea salt and olive oil went untouched!
Texture-wise was where things got a little freaky. I'm not alone in thinking that this is an incredibly gummy ice cream. Unfortunately, it has the mouthfeel of a Fudgsicle and the price tag of gelato with a fudgy, dense slickness that sticks in the mouth like a pudding with a tangible chew. Not that I don't like that, but it added a strangely generic feel to the ice cream that didn't settle with its image and ingredient list. My other main gripe was that there was a serious filling discrepancy between pints. Of the two pints I picked up, each had air bubbles pocked throughout and the second one was missing about a half inch's worth from the bottom, the ice cream settling atop the space without filling in. You can vaguely see the line where the ice cream did not fill in. A few air bubbles in a quart of Edy's does me no harm, but when you're talking about a dollar's worth of ice cream making up those few tablespoons, I start to raise my eyebrows. I was happy to sample this and enjoyed it immensely, but I honestly can't justify the steep price tag attached to this dessert.

SOPA Blackout

2012-01-18T13:20:00.002-05:00

Dear readers,

We're joining hands with many other websites today (suck it, Bing!) in not bringing you your daily post content so that we can remind you that, should SOPA and PIPA pass, we will be arrested and taken to the less-cushy sister of white collar crime prison, federal "please stick it here" prison as a result of posting one too many photos of Snooki. It's a sad world, but you can stop it by writing your local congressman a clever haiku or a strongly-worded letter.

Please protest SOPA and PIPA so we can continue being jerks on the internet!

Best,

Foodette

Feature Week!

2012-01-15T20:39:00.004-05:00

You guys asked and I delivered: our first feature week of 2012 will be Gross Food week! Be prepared to see quite a few selections from my local organic discount grocery store and Big Lots. Any and all suggestions will be taken, no food is too creepy or expired! Let the games begin starting next Sunday, January 22nd. For one week, I am Fear Factor minus the physical exertion.
And don't forget to enter your best recipe for a slow cooker! We've had over 100 entries so far...whose will reign supreme?

Foodette

Askinosie Dark Chocolate + Coffee CollaBARation Bar

2012-01-15T16:09:00.006-05:00

When I was a kid, I was really into reading books. That hasn't changed to this date, but my taste was far less refined and far trashier than I'd ever imagined. Eschewing the best of Chaim Potok and throwing away my parents' copies of the New Yorker, I had a friend who would supply me with the most sordid of romance novels. When I wasn't nose-deep in His Potent Rogue's Scent or The Very Virile Visigoth, I was paging my way through my grandmother's old copies of Women's World, which she would pass onto me after reading.

God, I loved those magazines. There's nothing in there that compels me to read them now, but the diet tips never failed to amaze me. It seemed like every month there was a new scientific breakthrough about how eating dark chocolate- or drinking a glass of wine, having coffee, or eating muffins, could somehow help you shed your waistline, live a hundred years, or just feel awesome. These tricks aren't new, though they are somewhat exaggerated. All of the above foods (with the exception of muffins) are rich in antioxidants and help to promote the production of certain neurotransmitters in the brain, like anandamide and other endorphins, which in turn induce euphoria.
All of these foods are also high in flavonoids, a type of polyphenol, that along with other phenolic compounds, helps affect the flavor and mouthfeel of all of these foods. And since chocolate, wine, and coffee are relatively simple compounds harvested from around the world, all will essentially have unique "varietal" characteristics, to borrow a wine term, based on their country of origin, exposure to sunlight, and other variables. So aside from their health benefits, they have the potential to be extremely varied. We've all seen the surge of interest in single origin and bean-to-bar chocolates, and wine aficionados are well aware of the importance of appellation d’origine contrôlée- the French classification of geographical indications dating back to the 15th century for wine and other food-producing regions, a standard other countries have been quick to jump upon.
So with all of this deliciously territorial information in mind, I approached the latest Askinosie CollaBARation with trepidation and curiosity. The bar is simply constructed, made with Askinosie single origin cacao from Davao, Philippines, and Intelligentsia single origin coffee, from La Perla de Oaxaca, Mexico. Like the first CollaBARation, the packaging is minimal and striking. With a scant ingredient list and two mammoth flavor profiles, I wondered if the two would mingle sultrily in my mouth or if it would be a veritable clash of the titans on my tongue. Although the bar is not studded with coffee beans, the strong scent of coffee was immediately pervasive and lingering, and the dark chocolate was smooth and crisp, snapping audibly in my hand.
This is a strong, forceful bar, definitely one that could fell the family pet if consumed by the wrong party. It goes more along the lines of something you'd want to eat slowly after dinner rather than wolf down at a Riefenstahl film. It has a very slow, cool melt and creamy texture, initially chalky on the tongue. The coffee flavors are forward and present themselves in a fruity, dark flavor, like a good dark roast, but regrettably, there are just too many good things going on and too few fillers to balance it out. I'm all for stellar combinations of flavors, but this bar just doesn't nail it. Good dark chocolate already has notes of coffee, caramel, and red fruit on its own. Adding more of these potent esters tips the scale too far and tends to be overkill. The flavor lingered and deepened on the tongue with this bar, and eventually settled with a slightly burnt, overly steeped flavor, bitter like an old cup of coffee. Albeit good coffee, but who's counting when it's that flat?

Unfortunately, the lack of sweeteners or emulsifiers, to stabilize the bar's flavor and accentuate its more subtle notes, just threw me off. Despite the richness of the bar, I couldn't eat more than two pieces. It was just too strong for my taste. While I'm normally a supporter of coffee and chocolate, the infusion of the two flavors proved to be this bar's downfall. I'd be curious to see more infusions of Intelligentsia coffee in Askinosie's bars, as they blended it superbly without any grittiness or sandy texture from the beans, but not with a cacao this forceful.

White Cow Dairy Chocolate Malt Yogurt

2012-01-13T10:39:00.000-05:00

I think more grocery staples need makeovers. Extreme Makeover: Home Edition has been done to death, as has the plastic surgery version. I want to see a show that directly impacts my pantry. And I want the team to start with yogurt. While I don't see a need for extreme quinoa or a new frontier for beans, yogurt is crying for a new look. It's worked hard all its life to prevent indigestion through the magic of Jamie Lee Curtis and the more awesomely named Suleiman the Magnificent. It's one of those foods that has been around since 2000 BC and, like the Magical Girl in all films ever made, just needs to take off its glasses and bland background and get with the cool crowd. And White Cow Dairy is its new fairy godmother. Or Clinton Kelly, your call.
Chocolate malt yogurt, people. This ain't your mother's key lime pie Yoplait. And this yogurt is freckled. And it comes in a squat milk bottle. The packaging is gorgeous and adorably prim and kind of makes me feel like I've been transported to a quaint Greenwich Village farmer's market that serves as the backdrop for an adorable scavanger hunt set up by my girlfriend, Zooey Amelie Unicorn Cactus Flower. . Move over, pudding cups and step aside, Dannon. This is bringing sexy back for yogurt in a whole new way. Now, let's see how it tastes.
The nitty gritty: This particular flavor has a caramelized note that intensifies the nuttiness of the malt powder, but is a little overshadowed by the zippy tang from the cultures in the yogurt. It's a very mature-tasting yogurt, not something you'd buy for little Timmy as a compromise between Ho-Ho's and carrot sticks. The sugar is minimal, but interacts well with the Dutch chocolate, giving the yogurt a mellow, fruity flavor like raw cocoa nibs. Unfortunately, the malted milk flavor was barely there at all, imparting a mere whisper of barley and cream. The entire concoction stuck to the cheeks and worked its way into the corners of our mouths with its gritty texture and left a bitter aftertaste, mollified only after a glass of water. While this flavor wasn't perfect, I have faith in the wonders of science once more. I'm almost convinced that there's a bright future for cottage cheese.

Slow Cooker Giveaway Update

2012-01-11T13:03:00.007-05:00

Hey all,

The slow cooker giveaway post was deleted by Facebook. Their promotion guidelines do not allow contestants to be eligible for a giveaway by "liking" a page as an entry, so although I encourage you to like the page in support of the site, I cannot use it as a means of promoting the page through the contest. As a result of this, I am extending the date of the contest from Saturday, January 15th to Friday, January 20th so that people can resubmit their entries to me. I will be accepting them via email at foodette.reviews@gmail.com only and encourage all new submissions and resubmissions as well but due to my awful memory, can only consider submissions that are emailed or commented on NOW (as opposed to the deleted comments) to be eligible.

Again, to be eligible for the contest you must:
- Comment/email on the post with your best slow cooker recipe idea
- Posts must include a recipe! It doesn't have to be yours and can be from the internet or passed down from Grandma. Your call.

I will announce the winner on the 21st and cook their recipe!

Sorry for all the trouble. I'm readjusting the format so that this won't happen again.

Jess

Marley's Mellow Mood Relaxation Drink

2012-01-11T12:30:00.000-05:00

Believe it or not, this drink wasn't created or endorsed by John Grogan's loveable yellow laborador. I know, I was disappointed, too. For those of you who are into Marley, though, the Bob one, this drink might come as a pleasant surprise. Marley's Mellow Mood Relaxation boasts yet another way to get your sleep on. Because nothing relaxes you like a tie-dyed assault of colors, and 29 grams of sugar per can, right? Jah, mon, and that's all you'll hear from me.
The can boasts a lofty goal of considering this a dietary supplement, like a Flintstones multi-vitamin. While I'm sure there's at least one person out there who is actively making this a part of their day-to-day routine, the vast majority of you can stop holding your breath. There are better relaxation supplements out there, and I doubt any of them taste like home-fermented fruit leather. The drink says it's berry flavored, but tastes more like berries that have been sun-dried with every intent of being made into macro granola but were sadly forgotten in a head shop for a few months. There's a raisiny note to this, and it's fairly strong, persistent flavor that lingers throughout each sip. I'm no stranger to slightly medicinal flavors in energy or relaxation drinks, but this gave the beverage a synthetic and creepy edge that inspired me to go through my Stranger Danger checklist one more time. It tastes like bottled mall incense, the kind that comes packaged with a free angry warrior statue.
It's lightly carbonated and has a watery, floral flavor with a medicinal bite against the fermented berries scent, but holds very little appeal for me as it lacks the fresh flavors of most fruit-flavored sodas. Its flavor does mirror its mission statement in that it is a fairly murky, lazy soda, but unfortunately, that translates to a dismal drink. Color me affected by my own childhood, but drinking it left me with unpleasant memories of taking cherry Robutussin when I was sick. I immediately regretted the two sips I took, as I wasn't so much relaxed as I was sluggish after trying a little of this and aching from the sugar. Every time you drink this beverage, a dentist earns a $20,000 bonus. This might work if you've had a tough day playing Ultimate and need a break, but nevermore, Tuff Gong, nevermore. I may have got the beverage, but I didn't get no ecstasy, not in the slightest.

Sausage Pancake Bites Return to Dunkin' Donuts

2012-01-11T08:34:00.004-05:00

If you can't stand the thought of consuming your daily recommended dose of sausages and pancakes in cylindrical, stacked, or gargantuan form, Dunkin' Donuts has brought back their Sausage Pancake Bites (or as Tom Haverford would call them, Brekky Nuggs) for a limited time.
I tried these last year and would probably get them again. Any other breakfast flavor combinations you think would be phenomenal nuggets?

Fat Witch Bakery's Blonde Witch Brownie Mix

2012-01-07T15:57:00.009-05:00

A vintage scooter.

Mont Blanc cufflinks.

USSR-era Russian pocket watches.

A used Mac.

An off-brand Zune. (No lie, it was called the Creative ZenE)
All of these are examples of the incredibly extravagant, fairly dumb things I have purchased in the past. It's safe to say that I'm not good at bargain hunting. There are, however, a few things that I can't bring myself to buy, no matter how adorably pretentious they may be. One of these is any baking mix above $5. Baked comes out with a new Williams-Sonoma exclusive brownie? No can do. Momofuku packages their cookie mixes? Sorry. I can't see the value in a small, pre-portioned amount of baked goods, some of which are fairly sub par at the source, for the price of seeing a mediocre feature film.
Needless to say, I nearly peed myself when I walked into our local organic grocery outlet slash butch singles bar and saw brownie mixes from Fat Witch for the mere price of $3 and change, a brownie mix that typically costs $10-12 before shipping. Holy crap, Betty Crocker's most shameful mixes cost more than this. Fat Witch has been on my radar for a while now. Though I haven't had the chance to go, I figured it couldn't hurt to bake up a batch of "witches" at home and see how they fared.
The box illustrations are incredibly cute, albeit a hair twee, and the instructions are succinct and actually useful. Too often do I grab a mix and start preparing it, only to find that in addition to the one stick of butter, I need a mixer, six small bowls, and an extra bottle of dishwashing fluid to complete the recipe. The instructions include not only a list of needed ingredients, but a list of dishes or utensils you may need. Some parts are annoyingly vague, like the step where you let the brownies cool without any suggestion for time. As anyone with a sweet tooth knows, this is a terribly relative amount of time. "Cool" for me is any temperature where I can dig my hands into the pan without risking a third-degree burn. Second-degree, I can deal with.
Mess-wise, it's a cinch to prepare and still feel like you're putting in some work with very little clean-up involved. It's a one bowl recipe if you have a stainless steel bowl that can be heated on the stove. The rest of the ingredients are mixed in, the entire process taking roughly ten minutes. The batter was strangely pliable, like non-sticky peanut butter. This photo sort of illustrates it. I liked that it didn't take a lot of butter to make a smooth dough. The included chocolate chips were sized perfectly, rather than some of the minis or behemoths I've seen in other mixes.
The blondies came out of the oven smelling sweet and nutty, with a slight saline scent that quickly wore off and a lingering cakiness. The top had a delicately browned crust with pools of melting chocolate scattered around. After waiting an agonizing hour, I cut into the brownies. They were fantastic, with a slightly gummy, tender texture and extremely moist interior, with addictive and chewy crisp edges. The flavor didn't shy away from salt, and carried a savory, yet blatantly dessert-y quality. We still felt that they could have used more salt, as the chocolate chips were fairly sweet. Fresh out of the oven, the warm pieces had a gooey, indulgent texture reminiscent of eating a Tollhouse cookie pie. Room-temperature, they settled and lost some of the airiness that made them so moist, but were still chewy with no crumbliness. $10 blondies? Not really. But for around $3, they're some of the nicest I've had from a box.

GIVEAWAY: West Bend Versatility Cooker

2012-01-06T18:47:00.011-05:00

Have you seen my Facebook page? No? You should. It's pretty awesome. It's the mecca of all the behind the scenes fun that I don't post on the site. I can't write about everything that comes to mind, believe it or not, and often have to be pretty selective. Oh, and I'm also giving away a slow-cooker on it.
West Bend sent me an awesome slow cooker for the winter and is also providing one for a very lucky reader. Details for the giveaway are at the bottom, but here's my scoop on all things slow. Like I said, the Facebook page exists solely for me to show off my leftovers and creepy creations to the general public without being the recipient of a restraining order. One of my favorite recent posts was the onslaught of tacos I made back in November- simple, easy homemade masa tortillas with shredded chicken and the best salsa in the world. I can easily eat six at a time, for I am the great taco destroyer.
With the Versatility Cooker featuring a slow cooking function and a griddle, making these was a no-brainer. They're easy and deeply spicy, with a heat that threatens to vanquish even the most clogged nose or sorest throat. Chicken soup v2.0, if you will. Setting up the cooker was pretty easy, and the parts came apart for simple assembly and later storage. There are a few neat customizable settings on the cooker- low heat, high heat, keep warm, and griddle, as well as a timer so you can set your own time should you so choose.
I found that my recipe, which made roughly three servings of shredded chicken, definitely didn't require the five hours allotted for the high heat setting or the nine hours for the low heat. The preprogrammed cooking times are definitely formatted for larger quantities of food. Not necessarily a bad thing, but also a little much for a smaller recipe. I chose not to fiddle with the customized timing and just set my tacos on high, checking periodically and stopping about two hours in when I felt it was finished. There's a reason why "set it and forget it" is so appealing- a few hours later, dinner was ready. The cooker is perfect for multi-taskers with limited space. While the chicken cooled, I cooked the tortillas on the griddle.
Everyone loved them.
Yes, everyone.
Clean-up is a little unwieldy as the griddle cannot be removed from its base, so you're limited to the space around you to clean it in. Scratching is also a hazard. It includes a stainless steel roasting rack, another feature that slightly worries me with the metal-on-nonstick friction, never a good sign. While the pot can be cleaned in the dishwasher, I'm leery of trying it out as I'd hate for the non-stick finish to get warped or scratched in any way. That, and the somewhat harsh beeping the cooker makes when it is turned on or any setting is changed, are the only two features I wasn't keen on. It's a fantastic appliance for anyone with limited space or time and is incredibly easy to use.How do I win this awesome device? Easy. If you're already a fan of my Facebook page, you're ahead. Simply email me at foodette.reviews@gmail.com detailing the next recipe or idea you think I should use with my cooker and you'll be entered into the running. I'll pick the best recipe on Sunday, January 15th, and follow up with a feature post!
Chicken Tacos Verde
Ingredients (serves 3)
2 boneless, skinless chicken breasts
2 boneless chicken thighs
2 cans or 6 whole roasted jalapeno peppers
3/4 teaspoon of salt
1/2 teaspoon of pepper
1/4 teaspoon of cumin
1/2 teaspoon of garlic powder, or one garlic clove
1/8th cup of Cognac
1/4 cup of freshly squeezed orange juice
1/4 teaspoon of orange zest
2 cups of water
Salsa verde and tortillas to assemble
1. Put all ingredients (with the exception of the salsa and tortillas) in a slow cooker or pot on the stove, allowing the mixture to slowly simmer for four hours.
2. Remove chicken and shred with two forks.
3. Serve with tortillas and salsa and enjoy!

Vote on the Next Feature Week!

2012-01-04T19:54:00.005-05:00

2012 is upon us and the bar has been raised: now it's your turn to vote on the next feature week! In case you don't remember, we've done a few of these in the past, including the ever-popular Spicy Week and Avocado Week. In the past, I've chosen topics and have held votes, and now it's your turn to choose once more! Here are the features in the running.

Ice Cream Week: Despite the fact that it's the dead of winter, I'll be picking seven or eight of my favorite ice creams and ice cream novelties to write about. It's the food you love to hate in January.

Food Hack Week: Love Reese's but hate the chocolate outside? Can't find good salsa or natural peanut butter where you live? I'll be hacking some of my favorite foods and perfecting the recipes for a week in this series with step-by-step recipes. Recommended for those who wish Foodette was a hair more domestic.

Trader Joe's Week: Fairly self-explanatory. Taking a page from What's Good at TJ's, we'll be featuring seven of the tastiest and whackiest products from Trader Joe's.

Gross Food Week: Yep, it's time to hit up Big Lots. No food too expired, no snack too scary. Expect a week of "delights" from Asian groceries and garbage cans. Requests taken, of course.

Reader Request Week: Send in your requests. If this is chosen, I'll take the seven best suggestions from regular readers of Foodette and write about them. I will also riff off the subject of your choosing if you demand it. Shoot requests over to foodette.reviews@gmail.com or with the handy little widget (soon to be posted)

Vlog Week: Please, please, please don't vote for this. Seriously, guys, I look like the baby Ellen and Rosie O'Donnell had if it had Jeannine Garofolo's mouth and wore Patrick Bateman's wardrobe. But if this gets the most votes, I will don my best vests and worst hats and post seven unedited videos of seven products, yadda yadda, possibly with some of the latest and greatest in food bloggery!

Voting goes for ten days, until the 15th, and the poll is live now. Let the games begin!

Foodette

Hungry Jack Funfetti Buttermilk Pancakes

2012-01-02T14:41:00.006-05:00

Well, it's happened. The internet's obsession with combining the crap out of various foodstuffs has seeped out, like a spilled red velvet cupcake fudge milkshake onto a white Maud Sienna carpet, staining the world of brands as we know it. Yes, Virginia, there are now Funfetti-flavored pancakes, Funfetti being the socially acceptable way to literally eat candy with candy. And I have eaten them and lived to tell the tale.
Hungry Jack, the company that brought you breakfast by Dad on school days when Mom was busy and the Australian Burger King now offers up an easy pack of pancakes dotted with the perennial birthday party favorite, sprinkles. Visually, these look like the calling card of a rogue, murderous IHOP employee on a quest for vengeance. I'll call him Murray the Pancakinator. They're upsettingly neon with a lazy heaviness to them, a density that emcompasses a mental weight far beyond sprinkles and pancake mix.
The mix, which could double for a My Little Pony recreational club drug, ballooned from a scant two cups to like, thirty cups of gloopy batter a result of sitting out on the counter for five minutes while the stove heated up. The first few pancakes were pretty and evenly speckled with sprinkles, while the remaining pancakes took on a dingy grey tinge, the result of the sprinkles melting together like a cheap watercolor set.
After cooking, the result was fairly underwhelming from an edible perspective. Funfetti is just another way to add delicious sugar and birthday colors into an already sugary edible, the cupcake. When you take the sugar out, in the case of the pancake mix, you're basically eating the poor man's Funfetti. And man, is it awful- the flavor is chalky with no sweetness to speak of outside of a few sharp little pockets of astringency from eating straight up sprinkles. The heaviness from the batter translated poorly to the pancakes. Each one was leathery on the outside with a burnt flavor, despite being a perfect golden brown color, and had a doughy chew to them.
But there are options. Yes, there is always a plan B, in this case, B for Birthday Massacre. Also known as, BM. In true Buddy the Elf fashion, we pimped out these pancakes with three different kinds of frosting, butter, syrup, and powdered sugar. We even garnished them with candy canes because we are literally sugar pimps. And you know what? Despite looking like clown vomit, they tasted pretty darn good. The excessive amounts of sugar definitely gave it a more cake-like flavor, which made sense being that it contained all the components of a cake but fried in a pan, and even moistened the dry little suckers up to make for a fairly manageable one bite before we and everyone in a three mile radius contracted diabetes.
So, the moral of the story is this: when you have a product that tastes like sand, copious amounts of frosting and food coloring will prevent it from being bland. Or so the saying goes. Honestly, the real moral of the story is that it's never good to trust $1 pancake mix, even if it does seem to be a small price to pay for sugary childhood memories.
It does get a point for value- it used water and nothing else and yielded nine medium-sized pancakes, but when that value roundhouse kicks your health and dental insurance plan in the stomach, you begin to realize that your money would be better spent hiring a psychiatrist to unbox your childhood instead of pancakes. But on the plus side, #fuckyeahrainbowpancakes!
Seriously, don't do it.

Happy New Year!

2011-12-31T22:45:00.003-05:00

Wishing you and yours a stupidly happy New Year, courtesy of Foodette Reviews!
Enjoy responsibly...but not too responsibly. And don't be afraid to look a little silly.

Foodette and Keepitcoming Love

Arnold Pretzel Rolls

2011-12-30T20:59:00.007-05:00

There is no God.

Or rather, the God we currently have now inexplicably hates pretzel rolls. Atheistic blanket statements aside, I'm pretty sure that part of my life's mission here on earth is to find the best pretzel roll man can possibly make. No pressure, though. I've been through frozen pretzels stuffed with more crap than Adam Richman, pretzel hot dog buns loaded with expensive edible accoutrements, pretzels topped with crustaceans, and disappointing pretzel rolls. I'm all pretzeled out and I still can't find the perfect bread.
To me, the ideal pretzel roll has a foot in both worlds, despite being a freakish monster belonging in neither. It is kissed with a hint of tinny, metallic goodness on its crust and is almost certainly boiled prior to baking, to ensure an airy, yet chewy inner surface that is porous enough to accommodate to even the gooiest of toppings, but yields to a firm bite without vomiting its contents all over the plate. Rock salt mandatory, toasting optional. An idyllic one-two punch at home with ham, mustard, and little else, or with a gluttonous number of toppings. Needless to say, they are freaking perfect, elevating a mere sandwich to a more complex and Bavarian plane. And to date, I had to rely on luck and intense menu research to find these little suckers. Until...not.
Yes, it looks like I meant "now" but it's not "now" because I have to wait. Yes, I peed myself when Arnold's came out with these two days ago and my mom brought them home. And no, these are not the droids we're looking for. Sigh. Despite showing a promising amount of homemade homeliness, these just weren't up to snuff. Six rolls to a bag, with 190 calories each, they appear to be hefty and even slightly irregular from roll to roll, offering charming variations in the waffled base and slits on top. Quite a promising start.
Unadorned, they were bland. Adorned simply, the pretzel's natural charms were squelched. Suffocated under the weight of a stupid amount of toppings, they disintegrated. God damn it. We were so close, Arnold's. We could have had it all. Unfortunately, these just didn't cut it. To the touch, they are light and airy, a little too light. White bread light and Vanilla Ice white with a squishy and uniformly bubbled core. A small bite yielded a sweetly flavored crumbly interior and thin, pliable crust with a hint of alkaline tang from the baking soda. It wasn't chewy at all and had the texture of a thin slice of sandwich bread rather than a crusty roll. Most of the salinity was overpowered by the breadiness as there was no other supplemental salt source, like a scattering of rock salt on top of the roll, to boost its flavor.
The least offensive way to eat this is with a little salt and butter, much like my bagels. This way accentuates the pretzel's natural flavor the most, but still falls prey to the plain bready texture. There wasn't enough irregular definition in the bread's cell wall to allow the butter to melt into any nooks and crannies, and it floated on the top after melting, barely penetrating the surface and leaving the top part soggy and the bottom part flavorless. Were it not for the appeal of the salt coaxing the tinniness out, I wouldn't bother eating this as toast.
As a sandwich, I figured this would be a little more successful. And what better way to do it than to do a balls-to-the-wall crazy condiment orgy on a bun? Do or do not, there is no try, after all. The Italian Job featured condiments best suited to a good bun with no margin of error. If it was a good pretzel roll, it would work. Anything else would disintegrate under the weight of so many sauces. With hot pepper relish, mustard, mayo, Tabasco, ham, American cheese, mango and ginger Stilton 'cause we fancy, arugula, fennel slivers, and freshly cracked black pepper, the Italian Job ain't nothin' to muck with.
And unfortunately, after I removed this ornamental steak knife, all hell broke loose. This is not the right bun for the job, folks. Not in the slightest. See that distended yellow-hued smear on the starboard side of the sandwich? That's the sauce seeping through the bread, sponged up by the fluffy interior. Arnold's, you are a failure.
Bam, she falls apart as soon as I look at her. Another one for the vaults. Successful as a roll, perhaps, but as a pretzel, you're an absolute shame up there with Glitter, Gilbert and Sullivan, and the InstaHang. Looks like it's back to the drawing boards for the time being. I appreciated the initiative on part of Arnold's, but for God's sake, if you're going to go out on a limb, try not to make the product so utterly unappealing that people won't ever want to eat its inspiration again.

Top Ten, Bottom Ten

2011-12-28T10:02:00.007-05:00

Well, guys, 2011 is coming to a close. It's been a big year for us here, and I'm sure you've all got some interesting stories to tell. If not stories, Facebook photo montages, and if not Facebook photo montages (Photoshop grammar optional) instructional YouTube videos on how to draw Rick Astley in MS Paint. There's something for everyone, I swear. We've been going through the archives with the same embarrassment as going through the Watergate tapes (seriously, the cell phone camera?) and have a few questionably interesting things to showcase.
Because all the cool kids are doing it, I officially present to you Foodette's Top 10 Posts of 2011. And because none of the cool kids are doing it (get on it!) I'm also giving you the Top 10 Worst Comments and Search Terms of 2011. Enjoy.
Top 10 Most-Viewed Pages of 2011 (The Best)
1. Wendy's 'W' Burger- I was surprised this got so many hits, because it seemed to pale in comparison to the excitement of other new releases from Wendy's, but people were pretty excited. (Rating: 3/10)

2. MiO Liquid Water Enhancer- I liked MiO despite the fact that this post single-handedly turned my site into WebMD after people started reporting their dietary concerns. (Rating: 8/10)

3. Angry Birds Fruit Gummies- One of the most fun photo shoots I've done this year. I've really got to get myself my own iPad to deface. (Rating: 5/10)

4. Hershey's Air Delight Aerated Milk Chocolate- I was surprised that this didn't make the top three, because it spawned some of the most poorly written comments known to mankind. I wanted to put all of them in the bottom ten. (Rating: 2/10)

5. Big Bamboo Jamaican Irish Moss Peanut Drink- Euphemisms sell, especially when they taste like peanut butter and ice cream. (Rating: 4/10)

6. McDonald's Peppermint Mocha Hot Chocolate- This was a hit with its limited time release in November, and perfectly timed with New England's freak October snowstorm. (Rating: 1/10)

7. Chocolate Chex Mix Cookies 'n' Cream- I didn't like these as much as I like cookies 'n' cream ice cream, or cookies dipped in milk, or even cookies without milk, but they have potential as an ice cream topping. (Rating: 1/10)

8. Nestle Nutrition Chocolate Nutrament- Want to know why Swagger doesn't post here any more? This literally killed him. (Rating: 1/10)

9. Kush Cakes- Beating out Lazy Cakes for number nine, these made Little Debbie and her pals look freaking awesome. (Rating: 1/10)

10. MiO Energy Liquid Water Enhancer- Despite making the switch from Sassy Gay Friend to Thunder Dave, people are still incredibly curious about MiO! (Rating: 7/10)

Average Rating of Top 10 Most-Viewed: 3/10! Yikes, I need to step up my hatin'!
Bottom 10 Most Horrific Comments and Search Terms (The Burns)
1. HELP JET PUFFED MARSHMALLOWS ALL OVER TABLE??? This appeared on my Feedjit
back in late June and led the poor reader from Makati, Manila to my Stackermallow review,
which likely exacerbated the situation with its complete lack of housekeeping tips. This isn't The Help, guys.

2. "I strongly disagree. I loved the salted caramel frap. Your first mistake was ordering it without whipped cream. It's heaven in a cup. There's something about your review that annoys me - you have an air about you that comes off that you're too good for the world. I won't be returning." Every so often, there are a few choice gems that I want to include on a "testimonials" page on Foodette. I'm hoping to get subpoenaed by a celebrity for that to actually happen, but if such a glorious day ever comes, this will be on there for sure. Ah, projection, you sweet devil, you.

3. "Please, please, no more pictures of your teeth. And also, please, see a dentist for a cleaning. I agree that this product is useless, however." Thus proving my point regarding the teeth stainability of Le Whif. Keep 'em coming, guys. Haters literally fuel me.

4. "...could it be SOYLENT BROWN tHINK ABOUT IT!" This is one small excerpt of a ten-page comment regarding a conspiracy theory and Hershey's. I've read this over three times and still find it hilariously awful.

5. "texture impulsions" led some lucky reader from Japan to my latest and greatest review of blk. water! I knew Free Radical Scavenger would catch on! I'm guessing Texture Impulsions is the accordion-centric cover band.

6. "i need fizzard wizard email address now" This didn't say it was searched from Hogwarts, but I think we all know that it was back in November. Move over, Dumbledore, Fizzard of Fizzies fame is racking up some serious groupies.

7. how it puts crab cakes in acti fry!/help my wings are clumping Oddly enough, both of these came from readers in Kuala Lumpur. It might even be the same reader. I might have to start linking to Dear Abby on this site, but god, I can't help but find the idea of clumpy wings a little hilarious.

8. "Chubby f***ing" This search term is literally the best thing I've ever seen to come out of this website, and that includes the Healthy Choice photo shoot. I don't know who this reader is, but they're looking it up at least once every few months. Bless you, Mexico.

9. "lean pocket pretzel bread microwave Explosion" Ain't that the truth, Topeka. Ain't that the truth.

10. "Poop soup is on the back burner...ugh." This pretty much sums up my reaction to Philly Cooking Creme, and everyone else's, too.
Happy New Year, everyone! Eat well and be merry. 2012 will be a big year for Foodette- conferences, more weird products, and exxxxxxxtreeeeeme photo shoots are in store. Do you have any requests or ideas for the website that you'd like to see in the new year? Hit me up in the comments and we'll see what we can do.

blk. water

2011-12-26T09:56:00.005-05:00

"I just don't understand Christmas, I guess. I like getting presents and sending Christmas cards and decorating trees and all that, but I'm still not happy. I always end up feeling depressed." -Charlie Brown

And now, the deep, deep funk sets in. As if you put on a pair of magic glasses, what was once a merry nip in the air is now just freaking cold. The cheerful Salvation Army ringers are now just haranguing you, and the capacity you had to inhale all manner of toothpicked appetizers, cookies, and roast meats is now reflected in your time spent hovering over the treadmill. Christmas is over.
But there's more to come. I mean, hell, today is Boxing Day, which is just perfect if you waited until the day after Christmas to get a deal on a gift for your hired help. The Treaty of Pressburg was signed today in 1805. Put down that spiked egg nog, you have a lot to look forward to. Also, I'm pretty sure that's curdling, so don't drink it. Why is today an awesome day? Aside from the strangely hush-hush day off for federal employees, which you can thank the Uniform Monday Act for, I'm talking about blk water, the latest and greatest libation straight from New Jersey spelled like a Bjork single. That's right, start laughing. Intentionally black water developed in New Jersey.
This water received a great deal of hype at the Fancy Food Show, not the least of which was the hushed claim that it had powers to heal the elderly and boasted its connections with the "stars" of The Real Housewives of New Jersey, which wins the prize for the worst marketing conjunction ever. Lawsuits ensued. Oh, and something something fulvic acid. That's what makes it black in color, and of course, by fulvic acid I clearly mean something gross in the sewage. Seriously, The Simpsons had it right when they intoned the sagacious and useful piece of advice- "if it's brown, drink it down. If it's black, send it back." Send back blk, because it's gimmicky and gross. Who really needs black water? I mean, aside from the elusive and coveted 14-year old Hot Topic clad demographic, this seems kind of silly for a rational adult to drink. It's useless in cocktails, as nobody really puts water in them, and on its own, it has a harsh, mineral-heavy flavor with a salty aftertaste.
This just goes against most of my principles of what I should put in my mouth, and at this point in my life, I've practically developed a leather-bound rulebook for them. I don't need water that touts itself as sexy and fascinating, especially when said water also calls itself a Free Radical Scavenger, which is a fancy term for an antioxidant in real life, but in my head, is a two person, one cello lo-fi band with guest singer Zooey Deschanel and a hit single called "Eminently Yours (Tom Cruise/Marilyn Monroe)" Drinking this makes me more thirsty and I just don't see the novelty in weakly colored murky water. I'll stick to the clear stuff and enjoy my "regular" dark side, the one that listens to the occasional Sting single and casually Facebook stalks people from summer camp.

Meltykiss Green Tea Chocolate

2011-12-24T17:21:00.005-05:00

Waiting for Christmas Eve festivities to start is a bit like waiting around at the intermission of a middle school play. For the sake of keeping it seasonal, let's call it your nephew's musical version of a Nativity pageant. There's not a whole lot to do, but you're in a familiar place with the knowledge that when things do start, they're either going to be pretty awesome or god-awful. We always do a pretty low-key, but festive Christmas eve with tons of food and champers for all. This year, I'm contributing a few strange snacks of my own, not the least of which is a zesty Japanese offering, Meltykiss's 2011 limited winter release of green tea chocolate.
Meltykiss is green but is by no means environmentally friendly. If it was a Captain Planet eco-villain, it would be surely be the EnviroStrangler or something. There's more padding on this than there is on Martin Lawrence in any of the Big Momma films. However, it's all worth it, as each little chocolatey cube is perfectly formed with no scuffs or breakage. If you've had the classic Moritz Ice Cube candy, you can imagine what a Meltykiss tastes like. Roughly the size of a die, it has that chunky yet beguiling texture of vegetable oil and chocolate, with a low melting point that causes it to disintegrate as it hits the mouth. The center, for whatever reason, melts a little slower, with a smooth, chewy bite similar to eating a piece of gianduja or a slightly melted chocolate bar.
These have a cool texture on the tongue with a slightly bittersweet initial note from the light dusting of cocoa powder on top. The chocolate base coating is milky and sweet, more of a milk chocolate flavor despite looking fairly dark, but the center is perfection. With the fluffy texture of chilled buttercream frosting, the chartreuse center is a beautifully contrasting treat to behold.
The center contrasts the sweet chocolate with a bitter, strongly steeped green tea flavor, floral and perfumed, with a delicate sweet matcha flavor that permeates the outer and inner layers. It's very strong, which makes it the perfect gift for tea aficionados as it's not too sweet or diluted to impress. Perfect stocking stuffers and present toppers. Merry Christmas Eve, everyone!

Planters Limited Edition Brittle Nut Medley

2011-12-22T21:30:00.006-05:00

We baked way too many sweets today. You know that frenzy people get in around Christmas, the one that compels them to justify buying extravagant items they can't afford and stupid things like Hickory Farms and Soap-on-a-Rope gift packs? Well, it's also the one that, for one month out of the year, flips on the homing mechanism switch that whispers crafty thoughts in your ear while you sleep. "The more cookies you bake, the more people will love you," and, "You're only as gay as the quantity of rainbow sprinkles you can cram into your baked goods." True story. As a result of this sudden urge to bake and make merry, merry love, we have four batches of cookies, most of which are cat-shaped gingerbread people. #futurecrazycatlady
During this bake-a-thon, I got a package from Planters, which I received from the UPS man in my smoking jacket while chewing on a log of cookie dough. Keeping it classy all the time, son. Inside the package were six new limited edition Planters nut flavors, one of which I almost baked into another batch of cookies because it's so freaking delicious. That, my friends, is the terribly named Brittle Nut Medley, which isn't so much a name as it is a description of its contents. Let's break it down like it's 1980. Brittle. Despite being literally the first word of the title, this only makes up for about 20% of the overall mix. It's okay, I can deal because it smells awesome. If it were a perfume it would be Calvin Klein Legume. Nut. It's nuts, but that's not grammatically correct. Honey-roasted peanuts and cashews abound. Medley. Okay, so it's a term I'm more inclined to associate with mashups of the soundtrack to Carousel, but it's okay. That compromises the two wild cards of the bunch, pretzels and yogurt-covered raisins.
Overall, it's a group that leans toward the candy side of nut mixes, but manages to not create multiple cavities after a handful or two. The pieces are solid and whole, one of the least messy trail mix-style snacks I've tried, and are just as pleasant eaten together or individually. The brittle is the star of the show, a pity as most of it is so weighty that it's sunken down to the bottom. Nothing says "Merry Christmas" like digging through a can of nuts to grab delicious candy. Altruism is so 2011. The brittle comes in molar-sized pieces, ironically as it will be your molars that are attacked first, and is mixed throughout the medley. It carries a salty, vaguely sweet flavor as addictive as potato chips with a little brown sugar thrown in for kicks. Eaten with the salty pretzel rods, they're a real treat. In fact, the little extras outshadow the nuts- the very crux of the snack itself. These are abundant and tasty, but I found the honey-roasting on the peanuts to be overkill in the sugar department. The neutrality of the cashews was refreshing after all the sweeter flavors.
The yogurt-covered raisins were surprisingly the only component of this snack that I was pretty ambivalent with. Normally I'd be excited about a snack that packs a ton of faux Raisinets in their mix, but these were basically flavorless and had a waxy, crumbly texture reeking of mockolate. I wished that these had imparted a more wintry flavor unto the mix, like spices or eggnog. Enjoyed with everything else, though, they were inoffensive and pleasant to munch on after a day of baking coo. All in all, a really good and creative mix to snack mindlessly on during A Christmas Story, or, if you're awesome like me, American Psycho, on Christmas night. Go on and brush your shoulders off, Mr. Peanut. You deserved it.

Hi-Chew Mini X Fanta Honey Lemon

2011-12-21T18:55:00.005-05:00

I rarely get ill, but when I do, it knocks me out for a few good days. One day I'll be running around, wiping my nose on my Robert Graham coat and soldiering on as I do my daily errands and assignments, the next day I'll be laid up in bed, alternating between crying and sleeping and requiring a constant stream of Fruit 2 O IV into my left arm. And that'll be the next two weeks. Because of my staunch aversion to tea and my annoyance with my school's incompetant healthcare system, when I get sick, I'm sick for a week. Who really enjoys tea, anyhow? Half the flavors of tea are flavors that can easily be accessed with a stick of gum, another habit I'm not overly fond of, and it tastes pretty gross.
Apparently, in Japan, many share my aversion to tea. Japan hates tea, right? That's why they created the Honey Lemon Fanta? Sure it is. On this blog, it is. Well, apparently there's a new Fanta flavor inspired by tea, and now there's a Hi-Chew flavor inspired by the Fanta flavor inspired by tea. They went deeper. Take note, Christopher Nolan. The Hi-Chew, courtesy of J-List, has crunchy lemon dragees surrounded by the quintessentially creamy, chewy base.
These are a pretty faithful iteration of a classic beverage. While most soda or drink-flavored candies utilize sodium bicarbonate to mimic carbonation or various combinations of sugar to get the flavor well, these mimic the drink to a "tea" while still providing a little texture and variation in each piece. The crunchy pieces are plentiful and evenly spread throughout the piece, as you can see. They are pretty sour and tart, reminiscent of a Lemonhead, but any tartness is tempered by the milkiness of the base, with a smoothness similar to a Starburst but springier. The honey flavor is quite bold, with a rich, buttery flavor bordering on caramel that interacts with the citrus and dairy exceptionally well.
My chief complaint is that this flavor only comes in the "mini" pack, which contains seven pieces of candy as opposed to the full-sized Hi-Chew, which typically contains anywhere from 8-12 pieces depending on the flavor. At $2.39 a pack, plus shipping, this comes out to a little over a dollar apiece. Unless you're a huge fan of lemon and honey or are placing a large order at J-List, don't go out of your way to order these. They're still delicious if you've got them around, though!

Le Whif Chocolate Inhaler

2011-12-20T21:07:00.006-05:00

To some of you, this may have come as a painfully apparent "DOOOI" moment, but to others, this might be a shock. Brace yourself. I was kind of a loser in high school. I know this is somewhat shocking being that I've presented myself as an awesome person on the internet. Shocker! You must think I'm like currency- legal and tender. But in reality, that's a little far from the truth. This anxious undercurrent of a subject matter may spring from the fact that I'm going home in a few days after defriending over 300 assholes on my Facebook and, due to Murphy's Law, will inevitably encounter at least eight of them while getting coffee and will have to endure awkward conversation and remind myself that I did what I did because I hated them.
I wish I had had Le Whif in high school. At least then I could have pretended to be edgy. It's the perfect amount of sleek, oily pretension combined with the allure of snortable drugs but- psyche! It's really chocolate. If I'd had asthma as a child, the irony of having this match my inhaler yet also be off-limits because of its powdery properties would not have escaped me. Le Whif is so impossibly vapid that even I, Lord of the Guise, must avert my eyes to its monochromatic color scheme and stupid "eating by breathing" mission statement. Seriously, Le Whif, you look like a tampon. You need to check yourself before you wreck yourself.
While I can't honestly say this is the most embarrassing thing I've crammed in my mouth (that honor wholeheartedly goes to Kush Cakes) it's certainly the most awkward. It's a cross between a cigarillo and a plastic party noisemaker. And worse yet, you're supposed to smoke it as though you were smoking a hand-rolled clove cigarette- gingerly, with a slight air of disgust. Below are a few recent installments I like to call "Faces of Le Whif." They should give you a pretty good idea as to how we liked this.
I feel like a thirteen year old sneaking a smoke behind the bleachers for the first time, except this isn't a Virginia Slim and I don't feel cool at all. Despite the reassurance that the chocolate particles were too large to enter my lungs at 80 to 300 microns, I still feel like this crappy chocolate is bouncing around my respiratory system. After hacking up a Hershey's bar, I tasted it. It has the unmistakable flavor of crappy, unsweetened baking chocolate and granulated sugar- grainy, with a bitter and undersweetened flavor, a predominantly fake molasses and brown sugar taste.
It's like eating cocoa powder and Splenda, but with the added humiliation of sucking it through a patented device. Ick. It had a harsh, burning texture and left my throat feeling raw. All the thrill of a real cigarette with none of the Bond-level suavity or satisfaction. Also, it leaves a dirty, brown residue on the mouth of the depositor, a fine dust which inevitably gets all over your clothes and then melts for real.
There are absolutely no redeeming qualities to this product. Chocolatiers have scaled down their regular bars to make 100-calorie bars for the calorie conscious, and as far as I can tell, nobody has explicitly expressed a desire to breathe in their food. Perhaps this is a good chocolate "hit" for the stereotypical Hollywood female workaholic, but Jesus, so is a Tootsie Roll. Leave Le Whif in Le Trash and go drink some chocolate soy milk.

Hershey's Giveaway Winner!

2011-12-19T21:56:00.002-05:00

Wandering Girl, you won the Hershey's Holiday Candy Giveaway! Email foodette.reviews@gmail.com with your email address, and for the rest of you...stay tuned! There are plenty of delicious giveaways coming up soon...

Foodette

Hotel Chocolat Chili and Orange/Hazelnut and Ginger Yule Logs

2011-12-19T13:03:00.003-05:00

Will the litany of classy international holiday offerings never end? Hell no! You can take your holiday-colored Oreos an' shove 'em- I have connections in foreign places. Today's selection comes from the wonderful Cinabar of Foodstuff Finds once more, my official hookup for the tantalizing UK artisanal brand Hotel Chocolat and more. This is a pair of treats from their holiday selection- adorable Yule logs in chili and orange and ginger and hazelnut.
If you haven't heard of a Yule log, it's a hard, dense log to burn during Christmas time. The desserts, if you've ever had a Buche de Noel, are fashioned after the logs themselves and eaten. These Yule logs look fairly branchy and tree-like, which the chocolate helps with, but more in a minimalist, Charles Eames-inspired kindling for a couture fireplace fashion. The edges are smooth and domed and studded with chunks of each key ingredient according to the bar. Both bars are made out of gianduja praline and have very short, concise ingredient lists- no more than seven or eight components make up the bars.
The gianduja base is fantastic. The bars are protected in their own molds, and you can clearly see where the chocolate was poured in, sometimes to the point of nearly overflowing! While it was difficult to get the bars out of their molds without marring the delicate surface, the end result was beautiful. As you can see, the chocolate is very smooth and soft. Mine didn't escape without a few fingerprints! The toppings were set like jewels on top of the bars rather than being mixed into the chocolate.
On its own, the gianduja is cool and subtle, with a slow melt and pliable, fudgey chew and a bittersweet woodiness that was amplified in the ginger and hazelnut bar with the inclusion of lightly toasted, crispy hazelnuts. The crystallized pieces of ginger, which had a wonderful crunchy, jelly-like texture unto their own, added a spicy element to the bar. My only complaint was that the beautiful visual presentation, which alternated the ingredients to create a striped pattern down the length of the bar, allowed few bites to include both hazelnuts and ginger. With the complexity of the two toppings, it was quite a shame to not have that option when eating a bite.
The chili and orange bar was no less phenomenal. This bar also had nuts, sugared whole almonds. While there were no candied chili pieces with the candied orange peel on top, there was a persistent spiciness to the bar along with the pomander flavors in the candied peel- cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg that made for a delicious eating experience. This bar didn't quite suffer from the same inconsistency in between bites as the other, but was a little messier to cut as the almonds were placed horizontally and cut somewhat irregularly. The spices in this were perfect, though. An easy and indulgent holiday treat.

Bacon Steak and Tomato Doritos 'n' Chips for Highball

2011-12-17T17:24:00.010-05:00

"Your mom. Champagne glass. 64% classier." - Your Mom Is Clubbin'
Here at Foodette, we prioritize a number of elite values in the food blogging world, not the least of which is "above all, pretension." And everyone knows that Japanified versions of American snacks designed to pair with cocktails are pretentious, to say the least, without even mentioning that these chips are endorsed by an expert, Japan's best sommelier in 1995, Shinya Tasaki. Hell yes? I mean, look at this guy's face. Sniffing out of a Riedel Burgundy glass in a tuxedo. I would trust everything that man said even if he told me he could take me on a tour of Hell in between sips of DRC La Tache.
J-List sent these over for us to try. According to the description, Mr. Tasaki and Frito-Lay formulated these chips to ride on the coattails of the burgeoning Asian wine market sales. Because nothing goes as well with an $8,000 bottle of 1947 Petrus like Doritos and Sun Chips, am I right? This particular flavor was designed to pair well with cocktails, presumably ones you can enjoy with Tasaki's $200 corkscrew and bottle opener. The bag has two different types of chips, flavored like bacon steak and tomato ketchup. The chips are smaller than your average Dorito but still have the rounded edges and thicker crunch of Japanese Doritos. The scent is pungent, like getting a noseful of Spanish paprika and tomato sauce, with an almost cloying initial sweetness wafting up from the bag.
The Doritos were definitely more successful than the Sun Chips, with a light, crispy crunch and wonderful flavor. These tasted like the Herr's Heinz ketchup chips but with a deeper, richer tomato sauce flavor, with a brown sugar edge and garlic bite to them. They were very sweet, but not in a way that made them inedible or incongruous with the rest of the chips. The natural sweet, oily flavor of the corn chip was a wonderful carrier of the ketchup flavor. It sort of put regular ketchup to shame as I felt that the flavor was just deeper and tangier, more of a marinara but somehow sweeter. Unique and a little strange to adjust to, but tasty.
The Sun Chips were supposed to mimic the exact flavor of the giant, quivering bacon slab on the package. A tough act to follow. And they crumbled in the face of porcine goodness, providing a weak smoky flavor dominated by the corny heft of the chip. No bacon, no fattiness, nothing that would have suggested meat or even barbecue sauce. It mainly tasted like ground black pepper and corn, not a bad flavor profile, but also not bacon. I've noted this before in Japanese Cheetos- all of the chips are much thicker and the denser ones end up having a dry noodle-like texture. Not a bad thing, but also kind of strange to get used to.
So the chips were good on their own, but what about alongside a few drinks? In one of the most stupidly surreal Foodette photoshoots ever, we documented the success of these chips as snacks and as cocktail pairings with what else? Bakon vodka, because you can't eat bacon chips without drinking a bacon drink. Says so somewhere in the Bible or something.
We made three cocktails, two contemporary and one classic to try with the chips. Our first cocktail didn't utilize bacon outside of a small curled garnish. It was a classic gin and tonic, nothing more, nothing less. The sweet cooked tomato flavor of the Doritos really amplified the sweet juniper notes in the gin, but neither was so sweet as to feel like a dessert or candy.
The second cocktail was kind of a "kitchen sink" style drink to gross out Miss Love and also see how the chips held up with a little spice. Enter the Flaming Bacon- bacon vodka, hot pepper vodka, Prometheus Springs pomegranate black pepper juice, club soda, and a salsa dipped bacon garnish. Despite the grocery list of ingredients and the science beaker presentation, it didn't taste like ass and the chips held up to the spice of the drink. It was surprisingly the best combination of the triad.
Our last drink failed and completely overwhelmed the chips. The Broker's Breakfast had hazelnut espresso vodka, bacon vodka, milk, and club soda. It was atrociously flavored and discordant with a fake sweetener aftertaste. The creaminess destroyed the flavors of the chips with a filmy, boozy tang. But aside from that, it seemed like the chips actually were congruent with fruity, tangy, and even spicy drinks. Then again, what salty snack isn't? These would be a unique alternative to a traditional pub mix, but didn't seem wildly outside of the realm of other sodium-laden nibbles designed to sop up booze. Maybe the wine-based Doritos will prove to be more successful.

MiO Energy Liquid Water Enhancer

2011-12-16T09:42:00.007-05:00

Final exams bring out my most terrible habits. Despite lingering over the fact that the bulk of my exams were arbitrarily assigned at the end of the term, it led to a staunch examination of my vices when under pressure. Late-night snacking was a given, especially when the dining halls and wing delivery places were all open later. Incentive snacking also reared its sweet head. "I have twenty pages to paste together, so I think I'll eat one M&M for every 200 coherent words I write." Yeah, turns out M&M's are the perfect snack to eat while watching Scarface on Netflix, too. The world is yours, but only if you finish this science report. Sigh. But by far, the worst crutch I developed was a dependency to energy drinks. I've never been the type to drink Monster or even Mountain Dew because both taste like bitter, overly sweet motor oil, but then I found out that some energy drinks were mixed with coffee or chocolate milk. Hey, I love coffee and chocolate milk, I think I'll- why am I watching Food Network at 4 AM? It was dangerous. And kind of awesome.
Now that I'm done with finals I can slowly wean myself back to a non-caffeinated drink schedule and a normal bedtime of 10 PM, but not without one last hurrah. That's right, MiO is at it again, replacing Sassy Gay Friend with non-porn star "Thunder" Dave Steinman to debut their new energy formulas, MiO Energy. Kraft sent me these two bottles to review fo' free, but first, I need to clear something up. Thunder, are you a satire or are you a human? Either way, you look a little like Dale from Rescue Rangers. I want to punch you in the face and then go grab a beer. MiO Energy comes in two flavors, ~~Mountain Dew~~ Green Thunder and Black Cherry. Perfect for the holidays, if your wish list also includes no sex and an XBox. If you haven't already tried MiO, the liquid water enhancer, check out my review here.
Both MiO Energy flavors are incredibly concentrated out of the bottle and smell very medicinal before mixed in water. Both have no sugar and 60 mg of caffeine per squirt, about as much as an 8 oz. mug of instant coffee. Green Thunder appears to be less of a citrus-inspired drink and more of an energy-flavored drink, and by "energy-flavored" I mean liquid Smarties and carbonated aspirin. And that's basically what this one tastes like at first. It gets a little better after sitting for a while, and ends up tasting like fruit-flavored candies, but comes nowhere near having an actual fruity flavor. It's the poor man's Monster and the rich man's Vault.
I much preferred the Black Cherry flavor. Despite having the stainability of a Sharpie, it has a much more floral, delicate flavor with a rich cherry flavor that masks the caffeine and doesn't end up tasting like cough syrup. Like its noncaffeinated predecessor, it has a slightly viscous texture that later smooths out after mixing, and would taste good mixed with either juices or even another MiO flavor. It feels like a more thought-out, versatile flavor with the ability to add a fruity kick to whatever you're drinking and is luscious and tangy.
MiO Energy isn't supposed to be added to alcohol, but I can't help but be curious about revamping the classic Red Bull and Coke with a few squirts of this red-eye style. I'm not sure if the Green Thunder would taste good with anything other than vodka, but the cherry could prove to be versatile in a number of situations involving booze. But mainly all-night gaming sessions and frat parties. MiO Energy is an interesting concept, but the twelve servings in the bottle only makes you roughly six water bottles or twelve glasses full of beverage. If you're looking for small bursts of energy over a long period of time, it might be helpful, but won't give you the same long stride as a 5-Hour Energy (138 mg/2 oz) or even a NOS (140 mg/8 oz) will. As always, I prefer MiO a hair stronger than the recommended serving size, so perhaps adjusting the dose will vary your mileage. Just make sure not to drink this in eveningwear.

Hershey's Cookies 'n' Creme Santa

2011-12-15T21:24:00.005-05:00

This candy has long been a favorite of mine, and I know I'm not alone. I think the Hershey's Cookies 'n' Creme Bar is one of the only ones to incorporate a little salinity into their chocolate, which makes it my automatic preference when it comes to picking out movie candy or a treat. It's one of the only commercially popular white-chocolate based bars out there as well as one of the few cookie-centric treats that has survived the 90's. Guys, remember the Reese's Crunchy Cookie Cup? A moment of silence. I've seen assortments of dark and milk chocolate bars along with the white ones in miniature bars, but I haven't tried them yet.
Everything about this bar is pretty much perfect, from the salty, crispy cookies that actually taste like chocolate wafers to the sweet white chocolate. It's a little too sweet, but those cookies make it just dreamy. This Christmas-themed Cookies 'n' Cream bar is shaped like Santa Claus's head. It's nicely molded and cheerful, until you remember that you're slowly dismembering an already decapitated public figure. Can't win 'em all. That being said, this was great to eat- thicker than the bar and packed with a denser layer of cookie pieces, and gone in about four bites.
Sorry, big guy.

Hershey's sent this over along with a few other goodies that you'll see pop up in a neat recipe this week. Wanna win a Hershey's holiday gift pack? It has one of these beautiful babies along with some other classic favorites repackaged for the holidays- a Hershey's Kiss Santa hat, creamy Hershey's milk chocolate holiday bells, Rolo candies, and more!
To win, just comment on this post with something holiday-related. Tell me what you're going to eat. Tell me about the worst gift you've ever received. Extra entries will be given if you retweet or post on your Facebook with a link to this post including the phrase, "Meet me under the mistletoe, Foodette!" or any other slightly creepy-sounding holiday-oriented phrase and let me know where you put it. The link, that is. Options include, but are not limited to, "Let me see your latkes," and "Honey, where's the Ramadan?" Failing that, "My daughter has her own website and all I got was a half-eaten box of artisanal truffles." I'll post the winner on the 18th, and you'll be eating bells by Christmas!

Bagels

2011-12-13T11:27:00.009-05:00

Dunkin' Donuts, what can I say? It's been a while.
Look, let's cut to the chase. I know you don't even know my name. I'm the girl down the street. We chilled a few times over the summer when I needed a break, we grabbed coffee during my late nights studying this semester. We may have even hooked up at a lackluster work party. You know how it goes. I love those Munchkins.
I thought I'd be able to call you my coffee shop. I was entranced by your regional charm and ample selection of goods. But you had a lot going on. You're going places- I mean, who would have time for a commitment when you're busy opening 250 more retail locations throughout the US? I understand. So, you know, I played the field. I checked out the soulful neighborhood coffee shop, the rival Starbucks in the next town over. At the end of the day, though, sometimes a girl's got to do the job herself.These bagels blew my mind. I'll be back for your specialty sandwiches and doughnuts, but as far as bready breakfast is concerned, we're done. Don't call me until you're ready to settle down.

Jess
Peter Reinhart's Bagels (adapted from Smitten Kitchen and Peter Reinhart's The Bread Baker's Apprentice)
Ingredients (makes six 4.5 oz bagels or ten 3 oz bagels)
Preparation time: 2-3 hours to prepare the bagels (best to start in the afternoon) and a rest in the fridge overnight
Cooking time: Fifteen minutes
For the sponge:
3/4 teaspoon of yeast
2 cups of flour
2 cups of water

For the dough:
1/4 teaspoon of yeast
1 3/4 cups of flour plus two tablespoons
1 teaspoon of salt
1 teaspoon of corn or malt syrup

To finish:
1 teaspoon of baking soda
1 teaspoon of corn or malt syrup
Cornmeal for dusting

1. Starting the afternoon or night before you want to bake the bagels, start by making your sponge. Combine the flour and yeast in a large bowl and slowly add the water until the mixture resembles a smooth pancake batter. Cover loosely with plastic wrap and let it sit for one to two hours or until the mixture has doubled in size.
2. Incorporate your dough ingredients, starting with the yeast and flour and finishing with the salt and corn syrup at the end, mixing and kneading the dough until it is completely hydrated and no raw flour is left. Knead the dough until it is smooth and pliable but not sticky (about ten minutes) and all of the ingredients are incorporated into the ball.
3. Immediately begin dividing the dough into small balls of your desired weight or size. I weighed mine so that they would brown evenly but it's not necessary. Smooth the balls out and cover them with a damp paper towel. Let them sit for twenty minutes.
4. Once the balls have rested, start by shaping them into bagels. I used the "stretch and tear" method, where I poked a hole into the center of my bagels and stretched the dough around my finger to create a smooth, even thickness. But you can also use the "rope and loop" method. Take a piece of dough and roll it into an even tube like you would a clay snake. (I failed art class) Take the tube and fold it over two of your fingers, looping the two ends together and smoothing the bagel dough out. Repeat with the remaining bagels.
5. Grease a baking sheet and lay your bagels on it. Cover loosely with plastic wrap and let them sit for another twenty minutes. Once they have sat, fill a large bowl with cool tap water and perform the float test, where you will see if the bagels are ready to retard in the fridge over night. If a bagel floats on the surface for ten or more seconds, they are ready. Pat the wet bagel off with a paper towel and pop the pan on a flat surface in the fridge over night.
6. In the morning, preheat your oven to 500 degrees. Start boiling some water in a large pot on the stove. Leave your bagels in the refrigerator until you are ready to cook them. When the water is boiling, add the baking soda and corn syrup. Boiling the bagels is essential and will help prevent the bagels from spreading in the oven as well as create that chewy, thick crust that makes a bagel a bagel. Boil the bagels for one to two minutes, alternating sides halfway. The longer you boil your bagel, the thicker the crust and chewier the texture will be.
7. When all the bagels are boiled, spread your cornmeal out on your baking sheet and place your bagels on top. This is also the best time to add any toppings to your bagels, like poppy seeds, chopped onions, or garlic salt. The cornmeal will prevent the bagels from sticking. Bake for ten minutes or until the tops are golden brown.
8. Let the bagels cool for fifteen to twenty minutes, and then slice and toast or eat plain. Serve with salted butter or cream cheese and lox.

Salted Butter
Ingredients (makes 1/4 cup)
1/2 stick of butter
1/2 teaspoon of sea salt or fleur de sel
1. Combine all ingredients.
2. Spread and eat once melted.
These are so goddamned easy to make. It's the yeasty equivalent of "set it and forget it." Now, thank me for your New Year's Day breakfast.

Phillips Candy House Chocolate Turtle Basket

2011-12-12T21:05:00.006-05:00

I'm picky about my holiday food. I get paralyzed with fear when the selection is too vast and usually end up mindlessly gnawing at brie rinds. So I've narrowed my priorities down to a helpful acronym for all you viewers at home. It's easy to prioritize awesome foods this holiday season with ABCDEFGHI- Appetizers, Balls (Or Food in Ball Form, nyuck nyuck), Cookies, Deny All Canned Food, Eggnog, Fried Stuff (Namely, Latkes), Gooey Dip, Holiday punch, and iPods Playing Alvin and the Chipmunks. All things you should cram into your mouth. Not included on this list are festering hunks of meat, stale supermarket rolls, anything with powdered sugar, and bowls of salted nuts.
Have you ever eaten and enjoyed a Brazil nut? No? Because they taste like pee? Yeah, that's what I thought. Brazil nuts are the leftover skulls and amputated body parts in a pirate's treasure chest of gold 'n' spoils. They're miserable and terrible and have been fondled and rejected more times than a sweater on craigslist throughout the course of an evening, and as a result of one too many tainted handfuls around holiday time, salted nuts are off the list.
I have hope, though. After eating my way through a few of these delicious turtles from Phillips Candy House, nut-based products may make it back on the holiday A-list this year. This chocolate turtle basket was whisked across the state and made its way into my hot little hands courtesy of elves at Phillips. This is an entire chocolate basket filled with dark and milk chocolate turtles. The standard order contains milk, dark, and white chocolate turtles, but I got hooked up with salted, yeeeeaahhhhh sooooon. Yes, the basket is chocolate. Solid, drippy detailed chocolate that begs to be gnawed on like a cartoon chicken wing- a one-handed, slobbery affair.
Turtles are one of those Christmas desserts that inevitably fall to the wayside, collecting powdered sugar dust along with Mexican wedding cakes and fudge of questionable origin in the shadows of homemade pies, cupcakes, and glorious Bûches de Noël. Not these, though. The milk chocolate turtles taste like the Snickers' acerbic older sister (the one majoring in philosophy) with the kick of salt backing up the sweet, smooth milk chocolate. The dark chocolate ones were tasty with the salt but would have been delicious without them as well, with a deep, rich flavor, more powerful than the milk. The milk chocolate was definitely the more balanced of the two. What really hooked me were the nuts in these. Traditional turtles are made with pecans only, but these incorporate a bridge mix ambiance into each piece, using a mixture of pecans, cashews, and salted almonds. Hot toddy, these are good. With the salt on top and the salty nuts, they provide an excellent counterbalance to the sweeter elements.
I preferred the milk chocolates to the dark only because I found that they were a little more harmonious with the other components in the candy. They amplified the burnt sugar flavors in the caramel and accentuated the individual flavors of the nuts, especially the maple-kissed pecans, where the dark chocolate stole the show and left the others behind. Not to say they weren't delicious, of course. My definition of second place is eating three instead of four. I liked these quite a lot. For $42, you get a huge amount of high-end, smooth chocolate and a pound of turtles- approximately twenty oozing, delicious creatures. The basket weighs about three pounds on its own, so you're getting the whole shebang for about ten bucks a pound. Not bad for the presentation and goods. I imagine this would be a real hit at a holiday party, especially with the edible basket to nibble on with coffee once the turtle supply has been decimated. For the sophisticated terrapin enthusiast.

Big Bamboo Jamaican Irish Moss Peanut Drink

2011-12-11T15:13:00.007-05:00

I don't know if I can adequately vocalize the specific brand of rage I reserve for U2's "Do They Know It's Christmas?" Yes, I know it's by Band Aid. But with the level of simpering, holier-than-thou pretension, they may as well have just said it was all Bono. Seriously. That's not a Christmas song, because it contains a distinct lack of singing reindeer, beleaguered couples, and commercial joy. Also, because it's not Christmas in East Haven. Case closed.
And don't even get me started on Christmas Shoes. I mean, seriously, songs that are marketed toward a strictly Christmas audience (different from a Christian audience, but similar to an audience that responds positively toward the music played in department stores) are not automatically Christmas songs. Likewise, flavors that appear to be holiday-themed may, in fact, be the exact opposite.
I don't know what holiday Irish moss officially represents. Let's go with "Pick that thing up and put it in your mouth! Day" because like mushrooms, this drink is primarily derived from a food that should have never been consumed in the first place- Chondrus chrispus, also known as carrageen moss. Unlike mushrooms, it's used as a popular aphrodisiac in Jamaica, colloquially "putting the lead back into your pencil." Hi-ho, Ticonderoga, indeed. Did I mention this is inexplicably called the Big Bamboo? Fear for me, readers. Also, pray.
So I bought this because it was 75 cents and had snowflakes on it, which I now realize are an artist's renditions of Irish moss and peanuts, hence my associating it with holiday foods. If soda was a nightmare, this is what would appear out of the darkness just before you wake up, biting off your head and lower intestinal area. Actually, I partially take that back. This isn't really a soda, though it comes in a soda can. It looks like I've been suckered into buying another one of those FEMA nutritional drinks again. The nutrition facts on this read like a Stephen King novel. I'm not sure why someone put a peanut butter milkshake in a soda can and labeled it as a marital aid- maybe for Homer Simpson? But here it is.
Also, the can tab displayed remarkably faulty craftsmanship as well as visual comedic gold. Classic, Irish Moss, classic. The beverage is tan and HOLY CRAP IT'S CHUNKY. No. No. No. There shouldn't be visual, pointy chunks in a peanut butter milkshake. It smells inoffensive, like granulated sugar and Mary Jane candies. Like grandmothers, but so, so far from that. The consistency is a little gulp-worthy, with a thick, gelatinous pour. It separates easily and has a foamy, oily texture that leaves a sheen on the fingers. As I expected, the flavor is pretty decent, as most products with 98% milk, peanut butter, and sugar ought to be. It has a clean, persistent roasted nuttiness and a pleasant salinity from the seaweed. Two flavors that surprisingly work well together, neither one overwhelming or strangely flavored. The aftertaste was slightly metallic.
Aside from the sheer creepiness of drinking this, for the most part, it was innocuous and tasty, with a balance in sweetness that most soft drinks seem to miss. Of course, that still doesn't account for the 33 grams of sugar, but at least you don't feel like it's rotting your teeth as you drink it. Unlike "Christmas Shoes." The chunks, whatever the hell they were, dissolved before I had the chance to strain them out and examine them. Despite the Freudian euphemistic signs that are as overt as a Blue's Clues show, I'm totally above telling you that everything about this drink reminds me of sex. Oh, damn it. I mean, come on! Flesh tone beverage? Gently shake before opening? I'm not crazy. As for the side effects? Let's just say that I didn't feel any enhanced mistletoe interactions or heavily decked halls. Because those are completely meaningless terms, and I'm a Jewish girl. Damn you, Big Bamboo! Damn you to hell!

Askinosie Dark Milk Chocolate + Licorice CollaBARation Bar

2011-12-10T15:57:00.004-05:00

As much as I go ga-ga for the latest limited edition bag of chips or Kwanzaa-themed taco from Taco Bell, it is an absolute treat to receive wintry desserts and chocolates in the mail. No doubt. When I got this bar from Askinosie, it sat on my reviewing desk for a while, and then moved to the kitchen. While I knew it would be amazing, I was a little afraid to review it.
Black licorice and chocolate? And anise seeds to boot? I feared my intrepid nature had gone too far. But winter is slowly encroaching upon us like an aged ogling spectator at the gym, and there's nothing we can do to stop it but sit inside and eat. Pity, really. In the spirit of all things chilly, because really, Western Mass, it's the first day I haven't been able to go outside with a t-shirt on, so I poured myself a finger (okay, two) of 10 year Laphroaig and got my virtual fireplace on, preparing to try this bar. #boss
Askinosie's dark chocolate is superb and despite the $10 price tag and limited release on this bar, I encourage you to check this out as a gift or a treat. The packaging is especially clever, with the label and bar inside a glassine sleeve, whose opaque tint blurs some words and emphasizes others. It's bold, yet minimal. I've mentioned my love for their Socunusco here, and while their Davao is 62% as opposed to the robust 75% of the Socunusco, it's no less potent and sweet. On its own, the chocolate is glossy and thick, with a firm, shiny exterior and snap. The Davao has grassy, olive-like notes with a tangy, coffee finish. This particular bar studs the Davao with pieces of salted black licorice from renowned Scandinavian factory Lakritsfabriken, anise seeds, and fleur de sel.
Texture-wise, this offers a melange of thoughtful bites to maneuver on the tongue, starting a curiously sensual process before taste even enters the picture. The pieces of licorice are soft and chewy and the anise seeds and salt start to dissolve and soften in your mouth before the chocolate. Tempting as it was to wolf down each piece, I found that letting it melt and linger on the tongue released far more earthy, savory notes than chewing it did- though it was an extremely difficult effort to not mindlessly eat the entire bar. The salted elements infuse the bar in a few different ways. While there is a persistent mild salinity from the fleur de sel, a pleasant contrast to the briny flavors in the chocolate, every so often the licorice yields small pockets of salt that shock the tongue delicately and open up those sweetly subtle anise flavors and brown sugar/molasses notes.
This is an absolutely crafted bar, no doubt about that. It is not something to casually eat on the way to work or after a big meal with ice cream. It is too nuanced and delicate to eat alongside other sweet foods. With a small glass of scotch on the rocks, it quelled all cravings for any other foods. It's compelling enough to enjoy in small pieces but not so intense that it overwhelms the palate. It is easily one of the tastiest bars I have eaten this year and carries the same level of precision as any Vosges or Amano with attention to balance in its flavors and the showcasing of its amazing chocolate. Saving the remaining squares for Miss Love will be an arduous task indeed.

Nestle Nutrition Chocolate Nutrament Nutrition Drink

2011-12-07T15:46:00.008-05:00

Where else but the dogmatic structure of a university can adults pay to be legally forced to churn out work like underage sweatshop employees, spending countless sleepless nights toiling on assignments that lead to...more school and more work? Seriously, I'm about to send a press release to the World Human Organization and Amnesty International. I'm more marveling than complaining. I like working on papers. I strive to enter a career that revolves around research and arguments. But I can't help but be impressed at the marketing behind higher education.
As you can see by my incoherent and loosely structured rant, I'm knee-deep in the sludge of college finals. I have a gorgeously written paper due tomorrow, two final exams to study for, and a film about bugs to watch and take notes on. Needless to say, I'm locked in my dormitory awaiting execution by homework. It's going to be a long two days. I stocked up on energy drinks and protein shakes to keep me alert and unencumbered by things like "food" and "bathroom breaks."
Seriously, this drink looks like something you'd hand out to African refugee children suffering from ascites. Or college students. Same difference. I can't tell if the label on this is a misguided jab at hipness from the 60-year old WordArt certified graphic designers on this account or just incredibly outdated and cheap. My guess is the latter. This is the only nutrition or protein drink I've seen that can be bought for $2. And your soul.
With 360 calories and your apparently daily recommended value of sugar, 49 grams, not a whole lot about this is screaming "nutritious." The store only carried chocolate, but I must say I feel a little jilted that my area wasn't privy to the more eclectic flavors this comes in like banana, coconut, and dulce de leche. And this barely passes as chocolate. Hell, canola oil surpasses cocoa in the ingredient list. Nestle, do you mean to tell me that one of the primary energy supplements in this is canola oil? Holy hell, this is worse than I anticipated. The can tells me to "just chill the can + shake vigorously to release the inner power." I'm guessing that's a roundabout way of saying there's an asston of sediment at the bottom or a subliminal advertisement for masturbating.
This tastes like a distillation of chocolate Necco wafers and Flintstones vitamins, down to the chalkiness and artificially fruity flavor. It has a powdery, fake smell reminiscent of the marshmallows in Lucky Charms and flat, dull color. While there but for the grace of Nestle goes the texture, surprisingly fluid and smooth, there is absolutely nothing else redeeming about this drink. It has the disturbing heft and substance of baby formula and an unrelenting sugary aftertaste. In pinning down this flavor I think it's best described as "protein ass." Please, please, please, if you're between this and another protein drink for twice the price, splurge. Nestle, merely putting the word "nutrition" on the bottle five times does not make this nutritious.

KeVita Sparkling Probiotic Coconut Refreshment

2011-12-05T21:05:00.004-05:00

I'm the first to admit that I'm literally the world's foremost expert on everything, especially gourmet food, dark chocolate, and haute cuisine. Emeril can take a goddamned seat. And I know that most people agree with me. Hell, I've even gotten over my self-proclaimed Kryptonite, mushrooms. Better yet, I've made peace with the vile scum and we've reached a quiet understanding.
However, there was one thing I had to cross off my bucket list that I knew would be a tough one. Worse than watching Keepitcoming Love laugh at my old "claw hand + cell phone" photos from the backlogs of '09, I've always been kind of squicked out by kombucha. You'd think fermented anything wouldn't be something that would gross me out. Maybe it's the fact that it's made with something called a "mother mushroom" which is a kind name compared to the fact that it's literally a giant floating ball of bacteria in your lefthanded Limoges teacup.
And guess what? This drink isn't kombucha. I'm a huge baby. But this is probiotic, a good start to infiltrating your body with tiny, superpowered microorganisms. This was given to me by our good friend the German Shepherd Whisperer. I drank this pretty quickly. And I didn't turn into Jamie Lee Curtis as a result my "irregularity." I'm so regular, guys. This drink, from KeVita, is pretty darned tasty. When you overlook the fact that the carbonation isn't from good ol' CO2, it tastes like a well-crafted, delicious soda. This drink makes me want to take up yoga and go out for a jog. It has a clean, fresh mild flavor, including that textured creaminess that coconuts have. The probiotics round the drink out with an earthy, yogurty tang. With the bubbles in abundance, it's more complex than your average Coke and has a restrained sweetness that makes it hard to resist. While it took me a while to adjust to the lack of a sugary onslaught, I realized I liked it quite a bit.
The drink left me with a full feeling and satisfied my sweet tooth. It was really tasty, and even the bubbles looked livelier. I feel like this would work well as a supplement to a juice fast. Not that I've ever tried any of those. I'm proposing to bifidobacteria tomorrow. I'll let you know how that goes.

Hedonist Chocolates Holiday Truffle Collection

2011-12-04T19:34:00.004-05:00

Call it a slight case of Freudian deference to authority or what have you, but I freaking love Christmas. It might be my gay love of kitsch speaking. Yes, I'm Jewish. Yes, I grew up with a Catholic mother and a Christmas tree and menorah. One of those kids, and I can confirm what's going through your mind right now: I totally got twice the presents. Boo-yah.
As soon as December first rolls around, never before that because Christmas music in November is just batshit dumb, I start humming along to the insipid pah-rum-pum-pums of the techno Miley Cyrus/Akon remix of Little Drummer Boy on the radio and plot out recipes for no less than thirty Christmas cookies. I suddenly tear up when A Charlie Brown Christmas comes on, and I'm suddenly less repulsed by marabou-laced lingerie two-pieces at Target. Come on, they totally come in Santa colors! So yes, as much as the sorrow-tinged afternoons of Yom Kippur and the agony-laden nights of Passover move me to no end, I'm a shameless addict to the consumerist culture of Christmas.

Hedonist Truffles, whom you may remember from our Valentine's Day TweetHeart post, sent over some holiday goodies from their winter collection that were almost genetically and technologically programmed to elicit the exact amount of winter cheer from every single person on the planet. I stand by that statement one hundred percent. Five truffles in five flavors: champagne pomegranate, egg nog, ginger molasses, fig, and orange clove. Playing off my love to condense classic flavors into bite-sized cubes, they sounded like they incorporated some really intriguing and underused flavors. Each truffle is coated in a substantial shell of Hedonist's inky, smoky dark chocolate.
While each truffle was delightful in its own way, egg nog was hands-down my favorite. I think I speak for everyone when I say that typically, egg nog isn't at its best in solid form. This is the exception to the rule. Dark, bittersweet chocolate revealed a creamy white center speckled with nutmeg and cinnamon, with an egg-like springy texture and gutsy booziness. Hedonism for the win!
The other flavors didn't have as deep a level of precision as the egg nog, but still sat squarely in the high-quality, phenomenal truffle territory. These were no mass-produced Godiva truffles. The champagne pomegranate didn't remind me of either champagne or pomegranate, but had a clean, smooth smokiness that lingered in the mouth after chewing and a light salt coating that gave a saline balance to the restrained sweetness of the truffle.

The fig truffle was awesome, with a seriously seedy texture and jammy chew. Unfortunately, its placement next to the orange clove chocolate caused it to have a diminished citrus and spice flavor which detracted from the earthy figs and dark chocolate. The orange clove chocolate was delicious and had a forward, in-your-face spiciness that tasted like swallowing a pomander whole. The little piece of candied orange rind had a gummy-like chew that made me crave more! Ginger molasses was a tasty way to end our little sampling, but lacked the smoky, burnt sugar aspects of molasses that I crave. It did have a bold spiciness from the ginger.
Check these out if you're looking for an eclectic holiday gift or party offering. They make lovely little mignardises at the end of a meal or with a late cup of espresso.

Cornmeal Crepes with Jalapeno, Sage and Maple Chicken Sausage

2011-12-03T18:08:00.006-05:00

A little simple math for you so you can play along at home.
What does this?
Plus these?
And some of this?
Equal? Some of you may have said "awesomesauce" You are partially correct. Some of you winced and said, "calories." You are wrong and deserve to be kicked in the face. These are crepes 'n' sausage, also known as pigs in the blanket, and our personal family favorite, pigtails, are a mouthwatering, comforting dish which can rack up to 829 calories per serving with 27 grams of fat and 1,502 grams of sodium. Kind of awful amidst all these holiday meals, no?
What if I told you we could cut that number in half? We totally can- but we have to go deeper. We'll start with the sausage. In the immortal words of Alex from School of Rock- pork, you're tacky and I hate you. Of course, I'm kidding, but yeah, we can totally do better. My homemade chicken sausage patties and links took about fifteen minutes to make and fifteen minutes to cook. Each link or patty has a whopping 60 calories and 2 grams of fat and have a bold, meaty flavor with a smooth, minced texture. For the crepes, I adapted my recipe from this one and thought it did the trick wonderfully. Next time I'd even use less butter. Three crepes runs you 280 calories with 10 grams of fat. A little high in fat, but still not completely insane.

I added some jalapeno maple syrup, two tablespoons of which has around 150 calories. That's optional, but damn, is it good. The total calorie count for this recipe without the syrup, per serving, comes to 460 calories and 16 grams of fat for three sausages in their blankets. Move over, Baby Jesus, this is the real Christmas miracle.

Jalapeno, Sage, and Maple Chicken Sausage Patties
Ingredients (makes 8 2 oz. patties or 20 links)
1 lb. boneless skinless chicken breasts
2 tablespoons maple syrup
1 tablespoon Root liquor (optional, but makes it awesome)
1/4 teaspoon dried sage
1/4 teaspoon chili powder
1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper
1/4 teaspoon chopped jalapenos
1/4 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1 large clove of garlic

1. Combine all ingredients in a food processor and pulse until finely ground. The mixture will be a little sticky.
2. Form small patties and links with hands- don't worry if the edges are slightly ragged. It will give them a better, crispier texture.
3. Heat a small frying pan with a little olive oil and fry the sausages in sets of three or four until the meat is no longer pink around the edges and has a golden brown crust. Serve with pancakes, in a sandwich, or eat them on their own. They're best fresh, but can be frozen for up to three months and reheated on the stove or in the microwave.
Cornmeal Crepes
Ingredients (makes 8-10 5-inch crepes)
1/8 cup plus one tablespoon of ground yellow cornmeal
1/4 cup plus one tablespoon of all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon of salt
1/2 tablespoon of light brown sugar
2/3 cup of milk
1 egg
1 tablespoon of butter, melted
1 tablespoon of butter, unmelted

1. Mix wet ingredients together. Slowly, incorporate dry ingredients until the batter is smooth.
2. Melt the remaining tablespoon of butter into a small frying pan. Take two to three tablespoons of batter and plop them in the pan. Remove the pan from the heat and swirl the batter around until it is in a thin layer.
If you can do this, you're doing it correctly.
3. When the edges of the crepe are crispy and brown, flip the crepe and cook for another 30 seconds until the other side is brown as well. Serve immediately on their own or loaded with toppings.

Oreo Chestnut Crunch Bar

2011-12-02T20:01:00.007-05:00

I'm lucky to know the people I know. I'm aware that everyone has a great set of friends and family members, but trust me, mine are the best. There are a lot of annoying, boring dickholes in the world, and I pride myself in having an automatic filter that sorts them out of my pack. I like 'em weird. I like 'em smart. Eating the Oreo Chestnut Crunch bar sort of solidified this affirmation in my head. I like what I like, and the rest can go to hell.
J-List's wonderful scouts sent this bar, along with some other fantastic treats, over to us. I was incredibly excited to try this because nothing stokes my fires, and that includes Michelin stars, like foreign versions of American products. Give me taro pies from McDonald's and karaage-flavored Doritos- Cooler Ranch has nothing on that. Chestnuts and Oreos seem like it would do well on the consumer market, especially around winter time. If New York vendors are still able to consider roasted chestnuts a lucrative treat despite being somewhat obsolete, how bad could this be?
The Oreo base has a texture somewhere between an actual Oreo and an Oreo truffle- dense, with a slight crunch, and that waxy almond bark-style coating I tend to enjoy when paired with cookies. The crunch is pleasant and I found myself really enjoying the crispiness of the bar and that addictive bittersweet Oreo cookie flavor that makes them so delicious. The chestnut flavor was pretty hit-or-miss. While it had a buttery, creamy flavor that real nuts sometimes have, the flavor manifested itself in more of an artificial syrup, like the kind you'd typically see in a latte. But while that has its place paired with coffee, a drink bitter on its own, paired with Oreos and chocolate makes it a little saccharine. If I hadn't known this was chestnut-flavored, I would have guessed mocha. It has that sweet coffee flavor that I'm somewhat endeared to. Nevertheless tasty. I'm really liking Oreos in bar format- they just have a more grainy, crunchy texture and lend themselves to more flavor additives.Check out this and other awesome snacks at www.j-list.com!

Trader Joe's Lemon and Triple Ginger Snap Ice Cream

2011-12-01T09:40:00.006-05:00

Trader Joe's and I are in the honeymoon phase of consumer relations. Every time I go I'm enamored by 90% of their new products, be they things I'd actually use, like chicken sausages, or things I don't need or will never need, like gingerbread dog treats. Comparatively, every time I enter a Marshall's, my previous score for weird, fancy products, God kills a kitten and I start frowning loudly. While it's undoubtedly not in my best interest to buy my weight in salted caramel cookies or chocolate truffle brownies, this ice cream seemed too good to leave on the shelf. I'm generally not a huge fan of ice cream, so for a frozen confection to leave this big of an impression on me was a fairly big deal. And I totally dig the retro Trader Vic's style font. The funny thing was, this was hardly a random sighting at the store. I'd seen a very positive review of this ice cream over the summer on What's Good at TJ's? and was hell-bent on finding some for my own consumption.

I like stepping outside of my comfort zone, even if it seems like a small step sometimes. Lemon and ginger, while tasty, just don't stroke my tastebuds in the same way that chocolate and peanut butter do, or salt, or caramel, but this practically blew most of those thoughts out of the water. It's difficult to find lemon-flavored confections with a dairy base- that is, non-sorbet or Italian ice versions of frozen treats. I have no idea why more companies aren't honing in on this, because lemon ice cream is damned good. Think of a pudding-like, velvety texture cut by the slight tartness of lemon with a candied fruitiness and you're scratching the surface of eating this ice cream.
But of course, I'd have never bought it if it was just plain old lemon. Its ambrosial scents were amplified with the addition of what Trader Joe's called triple ginger, an element that's more than just a totally badass name. The cookie mix-ins in this are lifted directly from Trader Joe's Triple Ginger Cookies, which contain powdered, crystallized, and fresh ginger, and the quart says that each container has no less than fifteen cookies inside. A bold claim, harkening back to the BS of Chips Ahoy! claiming that there were 1,000 chips in each package of cookies. 1,000 chips, my ass. Someone missed out on a killer class action lawsuit there.
Honestly, though, the Trader Joe's claim? I believe it. In almost every bite there are quarter-sized chunks of soft cookies, and at the very least, each bite has an underlying crumbly sediment from the cookie crumbs. In a few rare, beautiful bites, we unearthed preserved cookies that were nearly whole. Ben and Jerry's, take heed. This is how you do mix-ins.
One out of two Asian cat breeds approves of this ice cream.
The flavor of the cookies mingles nicely with the ice cream, as it brings a slightly spicy, comforting thickness to the soft and airy base with strong molasses and clove influences. I don't really get the heat from the crystallized ginger, but it's definitely there in the crunch and somewhat dry denseness of the cookies. Of course, no Asian-inspired ice cream is complete without a little experimentation. Sriracha? Yes, please. The certified condiment choice of hipsters and the homeless doesn't quite work with this, but the heat was all I needed to convince me that this ice cream was freaking incredible. For two non-fruit lovers indifferent to ice cream, we've had this for a day and have eaten half the quart already. Now we're going to go have a pillow fight and play Bloody Mary with our pants off. YOU JELLY.

Holiday Listicles!

2011-12-01T09:08:00.000-05:00

Because we're in the beginning of December and many people are looking for cool gifts, I thought I'd do a product roundup of some of my favorites throughout the last few years. I'm using some of these for gifts for my family and friends. See what neat treats you can put together and what ingredients you can use to make your holiday parties special and your preparation a cinch.

Easy Online Food Gifts

Kent Island Crab Cakes

Bissinger's Chocolates

479 Popcorn

Smith Island Cakes

Herrell's Fudge Sauce

Euforia

L'Artisan du Chocolat

Jeni's Ice Cream

Vosges

Easy Party Enhancers

Effie's Oatcakes

Evol Flatbreads

Oogie's Popcorn

Dr. Gonzo's Uncommon Condiments

Sahale Snacks

Taza Chocolate
Cookies You Can Successfully Pass Off As Your Own

Nobel Gummy Yogurt Sours

2011-11-28T19:30:00.005-05:00

Remember that physical contact, hand-eye coordination issue I mentioned a post or two back? Yeah, it's still here. I'm still pop, locking, and dropping like a champ. And it's laughing in the face of the kids on my college campus who insist on playing Humans vs. Zombies in the last balmy days of November. Yet another maddeningly insipid activity that further alienates me from people my own age, I'm still struggling not to scream at the kids in Steampunk bandanas with tricked out Nerf guns that they're all people- humans and zombies are people! a la Charlton Heston.
Well, little do they know, my street cred comes not from a $300 children's toy or an arsenal of foam darts, but from special Japanese gummies from the lovely Miss Love, Nobel Gummy Yogurt Sours, that bring me closer to being an actual, fairly witty zombie than they'll ever be. You see, these candies have a texture that I imagine is fairly precise to eating actual human flesh, which everyone knows is the choice nutritive supplement of the living dead. These are different from regular gummy bears in their chew, where the regular ones typically have a soft bite with a slight resistance, these are freaking fleshy, and biting into each one is like pinching the cartilage on your nose or elbow, with a decisive thud in each chomp.
The gummies are about the size of a small USB drive, with the same thickness as well. They resemble soft pieces of crystal quartz. They're an opaque, pearly shade of white, and have a hard coating of granulated sugar on their outer surface, which prevented sticky or oily residue from sticking to the fingers and added a much-needed sweet counterbalance to the tart flavor. When all the sugar is sucked off, the nude gummies are slippery in a weird way, so it's best to just chew them up before the sugar melts. While these are advertised as yogurt-flavored, they have a more saccharine, sticky taste with citrusy notes that render it more toward a generic soft drink palate, with a Sprite-like lemon flavor as the dominant taste and not a whole lot of dairy influence. Each piece ends with a persistent soapiness that isn't entirely unappealing. The entire combination, though a little esoteric piecemeal, grows on you with each piece eaten. By the end of the evening, we ate the entire bag!

Angry Birds Fruit Gummies

2011-11-26T21:24:00.011-05:00

Manual dexterity is not my strongest suit. My face catches flying objects better than my hands, or "trout" as I like to call them, do, and most of the time I try to fashion small bulbous garments for my arms so I can simply convince people that I don't have fingers. It would make social interaction much easier.
I was surprised when I fell in love with Angry Birds last year because I didn't expect to be good at it or enjoy it. Granted, it has the graphics and soundtrack of a more sophisticated episode of Tom and Jerry and the complexity of a four-piece puzzle, but damn it, I liked it. The marketing craze expanded a little beyond my level of caring, as I'm really not a member of the core demographic of Angry Birds feminine hygiene products or Angry Birds humidifier and filter sets, but when I saw these sweet Angry Birds gummies in a gas station, I figured my buck and a half would not be better spent elsewhere. Except on those 7-11 buffalo chicken Slurpees or whatever they're hawking nowadays.
The Angry Birds gummies come in six flavors and colors representing the six primary characters in the game- red cherry basic birds, yellow lemon fast birds, green apple pigs, purple bomb birds, blue raspberry little birds, and strawberry big birds. The scent is generic but nostalgic, and reminds me less of gummy worms and bears than of the earthy, rich fruit snacks of my youth. The flavors range from sugary to spot-on, though after a while they all start to taste the same, and each gummy is carefully molded, although I did see a few creepy deformed characters.I WIIIIIIIIIIIIN.

Basically, for players of the game, it's as entertaining and fun as eating Pokemon Kraft mac and cheese as a kid or having Power Ranger Eggo waffles for breakfast before school. The characters are appropriately colored and recognizable, a feature my compulsive mannerisms appreciate as it always wigged me out to see puce sharks or tangerine severed Scooby Doo heads in my lunch box at school.
While the flavors aren't as subtle or complex as Bissinger's bears, they have a good, meaty chew and don't put you in an immediate sugar coma. They won't replace my beloved Haribo Gold Bears, but made for an interesting change of pace. Fans of the game and fans of general adorable foodstuffs should check these out. They made for a fun photo shoot, too, with Dr. D's iPad!

Terrestrial Crab Cakes (a.k.a, a very wd~50 Thanksgiving)

2011-11-25T12:07:00.008-05:00

I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't incredibly impressed by wd~50 to the point of wanting to use some clever tricks in my every day cooking. While I didn't bust out my supply of emergency sodium citrate and calcium chloride, I did try to take back the concept of taking a concept- holidays, udon noodles, Jackson Pollack, and translate it into food.
With all the Thanksgiving leftovers lying around, I wanted to make something a little classier than the standard sandwich 'n' hash deal (though I ate plenty of that as well) and decided to try what Keepitcoming Love later dubbed the Terrestrial Crab Cake- a croquette made of leftover Thanksgiving offerings that emulated the buttery, stringy texture of a crab cake with no seafood.
It's fucking delicious. And simple. I literally can't believe that I made this in no time at all with such perfect results. Speaking from the humiliated perspective of someone who isn't all that keen on Thanksgiving foods, this completely swayed me. Eaten with a sunny side up egg atop the whole mess, it made a decadent, but subtly complex meal.
Terrestrial Crab Cakes (Thanksgiving Hodgepodge)
Ingredients (serves 2)
1 small leek, thinly julienned
1/4 cup cranberry jelly or sauce, preferably with whole cranberries
1/2 small Poblano pepper, diced
1/4 cup water
1/3 cup sopressata, sliced and cubed
1 large turkey breast, cubed
3/4 cup leftover mashed potatoes
olive oil
dried or fresh sage to garnish (optional)
1. Gather your ingredients and cut as specified. In a small pan, drizzle a little olive oil and pour in your leeks, cooking slowly on a low heat until caramelized.2. When leeks are soft and almost cooked, pour cranberry sauce, peppers, and water into the pan and turn the heat up slightly, cooking until most of the liquid is reduced.
3. Put remaining ingredients in the pan until all are mixed together and hot. Put the mash on a plate and let cool until you are able to handle it and mash it into small patties.
4. Form into patties and prepare another small pan with a thin layer of olive oil. Cook patties on medium until they are golden brown and crisp on all sides and serve with sunny side up egg or on their own.
Eat this. Just eat it. Even a baby could cook this. It surpasses the sandwich and slaps the leftovers upside the head with subtle, sweet flavors.

Happy Thanksgiving!

2011-11-24T21:42:00.003-05:00

Better late than never, I suppose. Here's hoping every one of our readers enjoyed the day with wonderful food, friends, and no Jones Thanksgiving Soda. None at all.

Happy Thanksgiving, one and all!

Wendy's "W" Burger

2011-11-23T20:45:00.001-05:00

Pros about living in New England: we're awesome. Oceans. Ascots. A distinct lack of accents outside of Bahstahn and New Hampshah. Bleeding heart liberalism is pretty sweet most of the time.

Cons about living in New England: We have roughly four fast food restaurants, approximately none of which are ever test markets. In all honesty, that might be my biggest pet peeve. I live in an area a hair too far away from Maine, which carries the McLobster, and lack an appreciation of the irony that would entail eating a McPizza in freaking New Haven, Connecticut, home of two of the world's greatest pizza restaurants.
So what would normally take ten minutes for anyone living in a normal state took FF and I a rollicking two hour drive to go to a better Wendy's than any of the Wendy's around in the quest for the elusive "W" burger. The "W," surprisingly not provoking any jokes or lawsuits from our former president, is actually a play on words, "double...you?" Well, it partially delivers on that front, with two 2.5 ounce beef patties, two slices of American cheese, a loveable cast of vegetable rag-tags, a signature sauce, and a softer, artisan buttered bun. At its best, a burger with an affordable price point for those whose hunger isn't small enough to be satisfied by the dollar menu and those who just don't feel like breaking out the big guns. At its worst, a glorified and more expensive McDouble. Size-wise, it seemed fairly average for a burger, even a fast food one. Not too big or too small. The first immediate issue with this burger was its scent- as soon as I extracted it from its paper prison, a fake nacho cheesy scent emitted from its core. It was definitely freaky, but I ignored it and forged on, figuring the restaurant itself smelled weird or something. The burger is stacked pretty tall, but the height isn't so unreasonably high that it needs to be squished in order to get a bite of every topping in your mouth. And that's good, because the squishy bun practically falls apart with a stern glare.
As far as toppings go, nothing really distinguishes it from other fast food burgers on the market, aside from the special sauce on top. Wendy's describes this as a soybean oil-based, sweet honey mustard flavored sauce. I would normally be all over this sauce, but the flavor of the sauce was so mild that all that remained was the viscous, runny texture and a slick, oily mouthfeel in every bite. Not an appealing way to start the meal. The veggies were incredibly fresh, with the exception of the pickles, limp, translucent shells of their former selves, with an unfortunately mild, bitter flavor, lacking any acidity. The beef was thin and crispy, with a smoky, moist flavor, but had a chunky, chewy texture similar to leftover meatloaf.
Like the release of Justin Bieber into human society, one small thing led to the utter demise of a greater, more complex being, in this case, the poor quality of the pickles led to the downfall of this burger. Without the pickles providing a much needed foil to the assault of cheese, sauce, butter, and a rich bun, the only tangy bite coming from this was the red onions. It's like putting a 1996 engineless Camry in a drag race with a Ferrari. It just can't compete. The dairy elements in this were truly unctuous- heed that as a word of advice from a shameless lactophile. Alone, or scaled down, they might have been somewhat appealing, but all three milk-based ingredients combined completely overwhelmed almost any additional flavor this burger attempted to have, with the aforementioned popcorn butter residue and gooey nacho cheese flavor absolutely persistent and infused into every cranny of the sandwich.
I can understand what the motives were in creating a burger that allowed a maximum amount of toppings for the consumer with a lower price point, and I genuinely appreciate that. Having a somewhat subdued appetite myself, it seems like something I'd get behind when my dollar menu fantasies were no longer hitting the right chords. But the exuberance works against them with an imbalanced flavor and makes for a sandwich that takes away your hunger not because you're full, but because you're mildly repulsed.

wd~50, New York, NY

2011-11-20T16:32:00.008-05:00

My absence for the last few days hasn't so much been a byproduct of business as it's been a complete suspension of my personal gustatory reality. This week, I ate vegetarian sandwiches that tasted like meat, drank wines with the aromas of flowers, barnyards, and musk, and willingly downed not one, but nearly two large portions of tender, chewy woodear mushrooms, my own personal Kryptonite, in ecstasy and without any pretense of betting. This last fact alone proves that Chef Wylie Dufresne of wd~50 isn't so much mad scientist, as diners have noted, so much as he is a benevolent wizard of cuisine. But I'll get back to that.

This has been on my bucket list for a while. When Miss Love offered to treat me to dinner, I couldn't pass up the opportunity. As we drove to the restaurant, situated on Clinton street across a check cashing kiosk and Mexican grocery store, I was kind of wondering if I'd be hitting the end of that bucket list sooner than I thought. wd~50 looks completely different on the inside, and from the throngs of well-dressed people and scarily attractive clientele milling around the restaurant, it's clear that the restaurant has many admirers despite its location. On a balmy evening, we started off our night with a few cocktails.

We ordered two specialty cocktails from their list- a wd~50 classic, the Green Hornet, with celery gin and tonic, and a seasonal selection, the aptly named ¿Qué Pasa, Calabaza? with tequila, squash, yuzu, and black salt. The Green Hornet was an excellent interpretation on an old standard. Drinking it becomes apparent that this is not the place where sticking a stalk of celery in a G 'n' T passes for a quality libation. It infuses all the sweet brininess of a celery stick into a drink with none of the pesky starchy xylem, working impeccably with the spices in the gin.

The ¿Qué Pasa, Calabaza? was a perfect play off the weather outside, with a very Halloweeny black and orange color scheme and a light, fruity flavor and fragrant nose. The yuzu crept in at the end of each sip, its subtle influence rendering a citrusy zest without the tartness that a lemon would typically impart. The richness of the squash was beautiful with the naturally yogurty flavor of the tequila. If there was any one element I was somewhat on the fence about, it would have been the salt. While a little was welcomed, there was quite a bit on the rim of the drink. Consuming too much salt in one sip overpowered the more delicate flavors.

While drinking, we enjoyed a box of crisp sesame flatbread in lieu of a bread basket. These had a buttery flavor and delicate texture of the crunch of popcorn husks without the annoying tooth-sticking quality. They provided a good neutrality in between dishes.

Here at Foodette, we go big and go home sloshed, so we went for the full tasting menu with the wine pairings. We started off with an amuse bouche of fluke, black garlic paste, grapefruit, toasted squash seeds, and pomegranate zest. This was an excellent way to start the meal, with a light texture yet bold flavors with the tobacco-like sweetness of fall. The crunch from the squash seeds and silky garlic sauce offset the acidity of the grapefruit and gave depth to the mild fish.

This was paired with a sparkling sake from Yamagata, Japan, which our server explained was basically regular sake made with unpolished rice, made using the méthode champenoise with a light petillance and familiar sake neutrality. It allowed the flavors of the amuse bouche and second course to shine without clashing and was a great way to ease into the meal.

Our second course was the driving force behind my desire to come here, Dufresne's famous everything bagel ice cream with crispy cream cheese, fuzzy smoked salmon threads, and pickled onions. The presentation was stunning, from the matte sheen on the brittle shard of cream cheese to the airbrushed baking marks on the bagel and precisely placed sesame and poppy seeds. It was beautiful, if ephemeral, and had a sweet, bready quality and silky texture.

Next, we waited for our third course while enjoying our second wine, a 2008 Austrian "Trie" Triebaumer from Burgenland. It is worth noting that if you're friendly to your server, you'll leave with a slew of new facts about the fascinating library of wines wd~50 pairs, as well as a fairly generous pour with each new glass. This particular wine was a combination of unoaked Chardonnay, Yellow Muscat, and Muskat Ottonel, three wines that made me cringe inwardly in anticipation of the sugar shock that never came. For a trio of typically unctuous wines, this was a fairly restrained example, with a cloudy color and floral heavy, bone dry flavor that played nicely with the next course.

This was another curiosity, Wylie Dufresne's play on a falafel, taking the "fa" and replacing it with "foie" in a melty, buttery ball of joy nestled inside a thick, chewy pita bread. The foie-lafel consisted of foie gras balls rolled in chickpeas and sesame seeds, fried inside a pita with kimchi tahini and a tabouleh salad underneath. While absolutely delightful to hold and eat, the two unusual elements, kimchi and foie gras, were buried under the pungency of the Middle Eastern spices and showed only their most basic forms in a slight piquancy for the former and fatty, rich quality for the latter. A clever interpretation, and a delicious one, but one that unfortunately missed the mark as far as idiosyncrasy went.

Our next wine followed a similar suit with the 2009 Palmina "Subida" from the Saint Ynez Valley of California. This wine was created in a similar style to red wines from the same producer, and had a beautiful basil and nut flavor with a dusty nose and a yellow hue rivaled only by the luxurious center of our next course, Dufresne's interpretation of a Caesar Salad with a perfectly soft-boiled egg orbited by dried pumpernickel crisps, lily bulb, caesar dressing, and its own shell, recreated out of edible kaolin clay and brown butter. Flavor-wise, not the most outgoing, but the texture was seamlessly similar to an actual solid egg shell.

The udon dish completely turned my world upside down. Completely. Granted, I had my chance to pussy out at the start when the server asked about food allergies, but I decided that if I took my chances and ate mushrooms, it would be at the hands of one of America's most talented magicians of morsels, and I would go down like a champ. Turns out I didn't have to go anywhere. In a rare feat of bravery, this was so delicious that I ate all of mine and most of Keepitcoming's. At its simplest, this dish mimics the textures and flavors of crispy General Tso's chicken on a bed of chow mein. At its most daring, this was a melange of beautiful moist textures and sweet flavors. Surprisingly, mushrooms make pretty damned good noodles, sopping up the gingery sauce yet remaining firm. This was topped with soft morsels of crispy fried sweetbread. The only element that I felt could have been richer and more pervasive was the banana molasses, reduced to a mere glaze atop the sweetbread and lacking the smokiness I typically associate with the sauce.

We were absolutely smitten with the 2010 Gamay "Mon Cher" Noella Moratin. It had the gamey, rustic qualities of its varietal, with a persistent and strong lily nose, with floral top notes and a deep, bretty, almost human-like base scent, of barnyards and wet leather. It reminded us of vintage French perfumes with an old-fashioned set of scents and flavors. It added a svelte layer of grassy sweetness to the udon that the molasses lacked.

A tender, perfect piece of salmon was paired with a root beer oatmeal, sour cherry mash, and carrot. The oatmeal absorbed the snappier, minty essences of sassafras with a firm bite from the kernels and tasted fine against the mild flavor of the salmon, but both had very separate flavors and never really met in the middle. The cherry mash electrified the salmon and really boosted its natural sweetness better than the oatmeal. The carrot's flavor was nowhere to be found.

We drank a 2010 Pinot Noir from Wilson Daniels with this as well as our next course, though I must confess that at this stage, the generous pours were getting to me and if the wine wasn't off the charts exceptional and memorable, it didn't really stick in my head. This was one of the more generic selections of the pairing, with a mild licorice and cherry flavor and scent.

Our next savory course consisted of a tender filleted duck breast dotted with blobs of nasturtium yogurt, roasted turnips, and nutmeg. The nasturtium yogurt was the most unique part of the dish, with a thick, pasty texture and tang similar to hot Chinese mustard but no heat. On top of the duck and countered by the rooty turnips, it was delicious, if a little rich for us at that point.

The final savory course of the evening, (which, at that point, had passed the two and a half hour mark) was a riff off rice and beans with lamb and chayote squash. A very Southwestern vibe emitted from the spices on the "rice and beans," which were really soft, soaked pine nuts and a rice crisp. The lamb was cooked to perfection, but had a little too much fat left on. I liked the sweet, apple-like flavor the chayote lent to each bite. Cut in translucent strips, it curled around the fork, wrapping the fillings up like a nouveau American sushi roll.

We transitioned to the dessert portion of the menu with a strange little palate cleanser of candied egg yolk, brown buttermilk ice cream, jackfruit, and crushed hazelnut pieces. The dish toed the line delicately between savory and neutral, with a hint of sweetness and rush of acidity from the jackfruit. The egg yolk and jackfruit were both bright yellow in hue and the yolk had a milky, creamy flavor but was difficult to discern in each bite. The crunch of the toasted hazelnuts gave a good structural depth to the otherwise dairy-heavy dessert.

And then, we were in full-throttle sugar mode. It was awesome. The apricot, buckwheat, quince, and green tea dessert lent a range of flavors to the plate, at first resembling a set of components not unlike certain Rieslings, but with more colorful flair and less balance on the whole. The apricot pudding had an excellent texture, but its tartness mirrored that of the quince and pushed the subtle salinity of buckwheat to the back burner. The green tea powder was piled and squiggled in a way that made each bite somewhat inconsistent. Some had a mere whiff of bitterness, some, overly chalky as a result of too much powder.

Our wine with that was a beautiful Vermont ice cider, a "Honeycrisp" from Champlain Orchards. It was beautiful and smooth, with a honeyed, brown sugar flavor and ripeness of a baked apple.

We followed that wine with our final dessert and dessert wine, a Californian NV Port, the "Lot Number Three" Marietta. This was a beautiful and lush selection with a chocolatey, sundried flavor that reminded me of liquified Raisinettes. I drank both our ports with our final dessert.

This last dessert was another Dufresne favorite, the beet, ricotta, chocolate, and long pepper Pollack-inspired edible painting. I could have eaten the ricotta ice cream by the gallon, it was so tangy and delicious, with a flavor similar to, but wholly different than yogurt and cheese. It definitely had the silky, salty bite of ricotta. The beets imparted less of a flavoral difference than I expected, but accentuated the saltiness of the ice cream and provided a gorgeous color palate. For me, the chocolate was the highlight of the dish, with a fluid, semisolid texture and elastic smoothness in the mouth. A perfect way to finish the meal.

With our check came balls of ice cream coated in Rice Krispies and fried balls of a lemony rice pudding. Poppable and sweet, they helped soak up a good deal of booze for the ride back.

I got the sense that wd~50 didn't rest all its deconstructed eggs in one basket. Their food was delicious, and their service was impeccable. Each element of the meal felt like it was executed and timed well. Considering that the meal lasted for a little around three and a half hours, it never felt like it was dragging or like we were forgotten. While I can't say that the meal was perfect- a few of the dishes did feel like they were presented for shock value with less regard for flavor than expected, it was certainly memorable and beautiful. I'll definitely be coming back to check out the dessert tasting and to try a few more of those cocktails.

Maine Root Pumpkin Pie Soda

2011-11-16T23:02:00.003-05:00

I can't quite tell what this soda's angle is. It was put out on the shelves after Halloween, yet has a jack-o-lantern on it. Because I totally didn't find this until after Halloween, I'm going to say that this is for Thanksgiving, for the college student stranded by themselves over break with little else to eat on the holiday except for this soda and McDonald's and day-old bakery rolls. Forever alone.

This makes for a depressing Thanksgiving, if you're drinking it for its intended purpose. I've tolerated selections from Maine Root in the past, and have enjoyed their stranger selection of flavors. This was a new one in the supermarket. Unfortunately, there are some flavors that just shouldn't be incarnated into carbonated form. Jones has exhausted that list to the point of insipid novelty, and now Maine Root is jumping on the bandwagon with their pumpkin pie soda. Even the kitten was kind of skeptical.

A few years ago I totally "wasn't" into Harry Potter and I "didn't" go to three of the midnight book releases and "never" cried at the end of the seventh book. Now I'm over that noise despite seeing some of my old high school friends totally cosplaying the crap out of those books, but was piqued by this soda as a result of a years-old curiosity surrounding the omnipresent pumpkin juice in the book series. I was hoping this would be quenching, rich, and almost vegetal in flavor with a deep underlying spiciness and sweet hint of brown sugar. It was basically all of that, reversed.

Imagine the weak, generic scent of a votive candle- the vague mishmosh of spices that somehow loosely translates to the flavors of fall and appeals to the sensibilities of people who consider Jersey Shore quality theatrics. That's what this taste like. It's overly sugared and smells synthetic, and completely lacks pumpkin. The sugar content in this is through the roof. It tastes closer to some of the pumpkin-shaped candies of the season than it tastes like its gourd brethren. And let's be serious- simply saturating it with an asston of orange food coloring doesn't make it taste more like pumpkin. Keepitcoming Love liked this soda because it did have a persistent and strong fresh nutmeg and cinnamon stick flavor, slightly sticky, dry texture included, but I wasn't sold on its weak flavor. I can't enjoy anything that wins the first place slot in the Family Feud question, "Soda that best resembles a Yankee Candle."

Japanese Sweets Deli Mochi Cream Choco Banana

2011-11-13T21:17:00.004-05:00

It just goes to show you how far a little research can get you when getting the scoop on foreign snacks. What I initially dismissed as exuberant Engrish on the part of the maker (mochi mochi mochi cream choco-banana?) was actually the full name of a high-end mochi emporium in Hong Kong and Japan. Granted, it still read like Engrish, but now it was gourmet Engrish. This particular snack was found in a subway convenience store in Tokyo, looking for all the world like a random, strange snack food.

After doing my homework, I found out that this store packages and sells their mochi as well as vending it freshly made from their boutiques in flavors like apple pie, honey cranberry, and darjeeling tea. This pre-made snack was in one of their most popular flavors, chocolate banana, and boasted an array of fresh ingredients stuffed into the tiny mochi balls. The chocolate banana flavor had a very appealing package with a photo of a plate brimming with slices of fresh fruit and chocolate drizzling all over. The back of the package broke down the composition of the mochi dumplings in a diagram form, helpfully stating that snackers would expect bittersweet cocoa powder coating a layer of soft mochi, chewy marshmallow, and a banana and chocolate chip center.

Inside, the mochi are wrapped individually and are very neat. The product is a victim of the potato chip cushioning phenomenon- despite looking as though the bag could hold twice the amount, it is filled with nine of the little dumplings. The mochi are much less messy to touch than I expected, with a conservative amount of cocoa powder coating each piece. They are cool and springy to the touch, with a pliable bite and depth of texture. Though some could argue that the packaging was a little excessive, I found that it protected the mochi and didn't let them scuff up against each other so that each one was in perfect condition.

Each piece is fairly weighty and is roughly the size of a small walnut, and is very soft. Not a trace of cocoa powder fell off the sticky mochi. They immediately start to sink around the shape of your fingers as you hold them, a good sign of freshness. What I was impressed with was how precisely sweet these were with all the layers of sugary elements- marshmallow, chocolate chips, banana, and chocolate usually make for a fairly toothachingly saccharine bite. But whenever a sweet element showed up in the bite, another, more neutral part (like the mochi skin) masked its sweetness in a deft way so that no one bite was overwhelming. The flavor was delicious. The chocolate's two bittersweet and sweetened forms were one of the highlights, but the fresh banana puree inside really won me over. It was soft and chunky, evident of having real bananas inside, and had a sweet, creamy texture. The only off flavor in it was an artificial banana note, which I couldn't quite comprehend. I'm not sure if it was used to boost the natural fruitiness, but it didn't help and came across as a little cloying. Still bomb-diggity with the chocolate chips, which made it taste like chocolate chip banana bread!

I was impressed with the craftsmanship of these- they were some of the tastiest mochi I've had and lacked that rough, overly glutenous texture of their larger counterparts. They were delicate and all too easy to graze on.

Back to Nature Cupcake Bites

2011-11-11T17:58:00.005-05:00

When certain concepts are trendy, everyone jumps on the bandwagon. No sooner did the word "cupcake" make home cooks shiver with delight did news spread, and in a matter of months, trendy cupcake boutiques, recipes, and artistic renderings of cupcakes were the new "it" treat. Of course, all flash-in-the-pan products fall wayside to the trickle-down effect. In the case of cupcakes, they were first relegated to children's birthday parties and baby showers. Their prices went up as did their twee factor, and as they got to be a more exclusive, "artisanal" item, varieties were made so that the novelty of cupcake trendiness could be available to the general public. Basically, a roundabout way of explaining why these Cupcake Bites are cheap and awful.

I was sold on the retro-looking "new, with sprinkles!" endorsement on the box because I am a pretty pretty princess. They're pretty unattractive out of the bag, though. Small orbs, no bigger than a pea, with ice cream sprinkles haphazardly mashed onto a chalky, greyish coating. According to the box, they're along the same lines of Cookie Dough Bites (same company, in fact) and have a wheat-based center with a candy coating. And sprinkles. Don't forget the sprinkles.

While I give kudos to the company for explicitly stating that the chief ingredient is "white birthday cake," I can't help but shudder at how unappealing these are to eat. I'm still not sure why a company called Back to Nature makes these Frankensteinian creations with artificial flavorings. That being said, eating these is a bit purgatorial. I can nosh them with no enjoyment or sentiment, knowing that they're absolutely terrible and really not caring. They inspire my most indifferent tendencies with a bland flavor. Bland is the kindest thing to say, though. Opening the bag, I was struck with a clinical, powdery scent, like the coating on a pair of medical disposable gloves. That alone was so unappealing that I almost didn't eat these at all.

The texture of these is really offputting. While the appeal of an element of graininess was desired in Cookie Dough Bites to mimic the sandy, sugary texture of actually eating cookie dough, the same is present here and feels disgusting consumed out of context. The graininess makes me feel like I'm chewing on a tablespoon of pure granulated sugar mixed with greasy shortening. There's no cake flavor to speak of and the mushy, irregularly textured center is a far cry from the fluffy, fragrant plushness of actual birthday cake. There were quite a few sprinkles in each bite which threw off the ratio of sprinkles to cake and turned them from a garnish to an ingredient. Those of you who have eaten raw sprinkles know that they taste kind of gross, with a crumbly, chalky waxiness and a strangely fruity sweet aftertaste, like that of an artificial sweetener. These were terrible. As a child I'm sure I would have been attracted to the bright pastel colors and sweet flavor, but there's nothing appealing about them now. Even for a dollar, I'm pretty miffed.

McDonald's Big Mac

2011-11-10T22:20:00.007-05:00

Everyone's first time is supposed to be memorable.

At least, that's what Hollywood told me. Note that I didn't say "special"- we can't all have Rick James, satin sheets, and a gorgeous body when we get down to business. I came to the shameful realization one lonely evening that, no matter how hard I tried to push it to the back of my mind, the facts were glaringly obvious. I was a 21 year old virgin to one of America's iconic symbols of happiness and prosperity.

How did it happen? I don't know. It could have been my staunch parental upbringing. A fear of commitment. However it came to that point, I knew it had to change. So I hiked up my jeans, I put on a special playlist of the Indigo Girls, Rod Stewart, and the original Broadway cast recording of Spring Awakening, ponied up $3.95 for what was promised to be a life-changing experience, and dug right in with a paper towel for a napkin. After living 7,714 days on this earth, I was about to have my first Big Mac.

Let me preface this by telling you that this was a completely blind tasting. I never heard the jingle, never took a bite of one, and never smelled one from afar. The closest I came to eating one of these was watching Morgan Spurlock maneuver one into his mouth in SuperSize Me. I was curious. Perhaps even fry-curious. My first gripe with this was the bulky, extensive myriad of plastic and paper packaging. The Big Mac, for all intents and purposes, isn't really that big. With the economy-sized bag and cardboard holding facility, I was a little disappointed to lift out a sandwich no bigger than a small portable hard drive with a somewhat emaciated-looking mere two ounces of beef. But as we all know, it's not about the size of the fries, it's about the motion of the 'Mac. Or so they say.

Flavor-wise, the sandwich is perfectly balanced. And not only balanced, but layered with textures and savory sensations. The first bite was as beautiful as I'd imagined it, with an initially sweet, slightly sour crunch of pickles and onions mingling with the seductively creamy Special Sauce. I was surprised that the beef took such a backseat to the veggies but came together so well, letting the more superfluous elements in some sandwiches take first billing with each bite. The buns were cotton soft, but not chewy, and melted into the meat. I had to admit I was pretty impressed.

Structurally, we're in a whole other ballpark. That was my main beef with this, (please pause to laugh) as by my third bite roughly two minutes in, the sandwich had completely disintegrated in my hands, spewing lettuce shreds and special sauce all over the place. What had once been a regal skyscraper of a sandwich was now a hot, wet mess in my hands. And then, things started to get a little weird. It was like all the integrity of the burger was in its perfect structure and balance. After that one stupendous bite, flaws started to perk up as the sandwich entered Bizarro territory. The flavor of the onions started to linger with a briny, salty aftertaste. The buns got mushy and soggy and tasted greasy and buttery when eaten alone. I lost the flavor of the beef completely.

If the euphoria of that perfect bite had been consistent throughout the sandwich, I'd have no qualms giving it my highest rating. It is, after all, engineered like the McGriddle to max out our pleasure and tantalize us long into the night. But in all things, I value consistency, cleverness, and maximum pleasure (which makes Keepitcoming Love my McGriddle) and in five minutes, this went from amazing to falling apart. It was like making out with a cute guy and realizing that underneath his perfectly coiffed hair and sweater vest, he had a tattooed quote from Twilight on his bicep. Not abhorrent, but not ideal and certainly not what I initially expected.

I soon realized that despite its perfect exterior and legendary reputation, it wasn't perfect. Did I learn from my mistakes? Yes. Do I regret it? Not for a second. I may not ever order this again, but for one brief moment in time (what is now a stunted timespan due to this consumption) I had the Big Mac, and that is a moment that will forever remain special.

Zapp's Voodoo Potato Chips

2011-11-09T17:50:00.004-05:00

Some people are easy to please. Not me. I could never figure out the motives someone who was able to go to the movies and feel satisfied with a small popcorn, sans salt, butter, or smuggled cheese sauce, never mind passing up the litany of candies and Slurpees along the way. I can't go to a barbecue that lacks thirty flavors of mustard and ten different artisanal sausages, and I rarely order a pizza that isn't buried under a glut of toppings.

So you'd think I'd be pleased to find these potato chips, which are not only a total sensory overload with the aesthetic simplicity of a Magic Eye, but also an homage to one of life's creepiest regional quirks, voodoo. Another particularly bratty habit of mine. I'm not big on chips without dip, nor pretzels without mustard. Unadorned junk food just doesn't do it for me. Zapp's is an elusive potato chip company from some region in the US with a large concentration of sports teams. I don't know, I don't follow cricket. Whatever. It's rare to find these chips in their limited edition flavors, unless, of course, you check out Big Lots! It really is my new favorite hookup for discontinued products and hookups. This flavor, Voodoo, is less Santeria-style chicken heads and entrails and more "whoops, due to a carefully controlled employee mishap at our factory, we came out with this flavor" deal. I tell you, that shit would not fly at a CDC testing facility, no siree. Kind of uncanny how often that happens. Maybe they shouldn't hire voodoo dolls as employees any more. Note that there is unfortunately no gris-gris at the bottom of the bag. Collect them all!

While I normally try to avoid kettle chips as they invariably get stuck in my soft palate, I bought these out of a weakness for the visual design. Look at this bag and tell me you don't want to get it tattooed on your bicep, crazy-colored dolls, neon script, and all. Or at least commission a loud shirt out of the basic design. The backstory is mild in comparison, though, as are the cutesy phone order and computer graphics on the back. Opening the bag, I was immediately hit by a blast of tangy vinegar, salt, and the brown sugar paprika sweetness of barbecue. A good sign, if unoriginal. The chips are softer than the average kettle chip, although they do still fracture into a kazillion pieces upon impact and have a lot of surface area and curling to catch a good amount of seasoning in the cooking process.

The flavor is hard to pin down, starting with an acidic kick of vinegar and then morphing into a combination of sugary barbecue with an end result almost identical to the tomatoey sweetness in a bag of Herr's Heinz Ketchup chips. The chip's heavy garlic and onion influence and crisp, slightly greasy texture lend an almost chickeny flavor and feel to the chip, which is unique but not completely welcomed. It's definitely a snack with an identity crisis. I'm not beyond new combinations and ideas, but I wasn't seeing any congruent theme in this chip that made me want to go back for more. As hokey as it seems, surely a company wouldn't completely throw caution to the wind and just let the production of a flavor happen accidentally with no science behind the flavors? It was too sweet and too sharp for my liking and just didn't make a whole lot of sense.

What I really wanted with these was a kick of heat. I solved the problem by dipping them into some salsa verde until I realized that the only reason I was eating the chips was to have something as a vehicle to eat the salsa with short of pouring it into my mouth. Even with sauce added, there was just something off about these chips that didn't quite make them regular players in my lunch box.

Wheat Thins Sweet Cinnamon

2011-11-08T21:42:00.004-05:00

Wheat Thins, not gonna lie, you're coming at me a little strong. You know I'm not a huge fan of healthy snacks, so why are you bombarding me with flavors and hand-written notes and breaking into my house with your seasonal charm? You're starting to resemble Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction. I've resisted your charms in the past, though. I ignored your Crunch Stix and smiled wanly at your Smoky Barbecue wiles, but this time, you've made a Michael Douglas out of me with the sweet seduction of your Sweet Cinnamon. You've got me. It's bonafide Stockholm Syndrome, addict-worthy, head-over-heels craziness. I absolutely love these. Also, I'm officially calling Sweet Cin as my imaginary Second Life avatar name right now.

There's not a whole lot to say about these that hasn't been said before. I appreciated the seasonal touch of including a cinnamon stick with my box. (Your box may vary.) I was a little skeptical about the hazy interpretation behind the Kevorkian-esque snowman on the front severing a Wheat Thin with his stabby carrot nose. I'm perpetually annoyed with flavor dust. But all of that pales in comparison to the fact that I honestly almost finished a box of these in a week. Tore through it despite knowing that I had a bag of Flamin' Cheetos and gingerbread cookies lying in wait. I'm a little surprised myself.

What really gets me about these is the striking resemblance to freshly made cinnamon toast. The Wheat Thin base has a brown sugar and butter flavor to begin with, with just a touch of salinity, and the cinnamon-sugar coating is strong, but not too pervasive on the palate. The crunchiness of the cracker reminds me of the crispiest edges of the hot toast, and I suspect that eating these warmed up or mixed up with some raisins would make it even more breakfast-like. I tried them with cream cheese and apple slices and fell in love. Basically, anything that you would do to your toast to make it tastier, do with these. I'm not sure if the ham and cheese dip is a suggestion I'll be following, but hey, I've had worse meals than a piece of cinnamon raisin toast with string cheese. Maybe putting it in portable form is the way to go. My only chief complaints are nitpicky at best, warning you that the cinnamon leaves your mouth somewhat dry and that the flavor dust coating is somewhat inconsistent, with some Thins nearly bare and others doused with dust.

I was sent a box of these and am now passing the wealth onto you like a 409 scam with actual payout. I've got ten boxes of these babies for the reader (or readers!) who can write me a halfway decent haiku about Wheat Thins or Foodette Reviews! Have at it and I'll post the winners next Monday!

Gingerbread Float Cocktails

2011-11-07T12:33:00.006-05:00

For most Americans, the next two months are going to be chock-full of activity and preparation. Not simply for holiday meals and travel plans, but mental, ninja-like preparation for steeling themselves against the onslaught of annual family members whom literally nobody enjoys.

I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm sure you love your Uncle Roy despite his unflagging tendency to bring his own vegan quinoa salad and home-printed pamphlets about the brutality of turkey slaughter in the United States. And I've no doubt you occasionally enjoy the company of your cousin Jeremy, who will play Modern Warfare 3 with you for five hours straight after dinner but will casually bring up the subject of medical school, even though you dropped out in 2002.

But don't try to convince me that you like your great-aunt or grandmother asking your date if they're married. Or if you, politely clad in a starched Brooks Brothers shirt and pressed slacks, if you are getting married. Or if you're ever going to bring a nice Jewish boy home to meet the family. (No. No. Not a chance.)

Don't bust out the Prozac yet, guys. I have something special for you.

Once upon a midnight dreary, I sat home listening to Steely Dan and taking shots of this beautiful, sultry liquor, Root, alone in the dark. Your tax dollars at work! After sobering up, I realized that I needed to give this to the masses in a less collegiate, more family-friendly fashion like, immediately. And from my loins, this Gingerbread Float was born. I tested many combinations with my faithful friend and killed many gingerbread men in the process, but the results were so delicious that I couldn't possibly keep them to myself.

Representing the high-priced, mild flavor of Connecticut. Hell yes!

Try to find Root. Please, please, please try to find this, because on its own it tastes like the best, most deeply smoky ginger beer you've ever had, with a snappy, sweet flavor like straight bourbon vanilla and a comfortingly warm finish. As well it should, being 80 proof. What makes it so remarkable is how versatile it is. I'd happily drink this like Scotch, with a finger or two in a tumbler with ice, or in a cocktail (warmed cider, perhaps?) or like this in a milk-based drink. You need this. I need this.

Rimming is essential. You know what I mean, don't give me that look. Water will do in a pinch, but in later permutations of this cocktail, I found that a little maple syrup or melted caramel sauce was better for maximum stickiness for the gingersnap and spice coating. These are so freaking good. I know that as a full-time student at a full-time party school, I'm genetically obliged to tell you that something with copious amounts of alcohol and ice cream is freaking good, but this is good because it's nuanced in a way that makes it an easy drinker as well as something to really savor. Whipped cream is unnecessary.

And yes, that's not a typo. You deserve a cocktail with four ounces of booze, so don't skimp.

Gingerbread Float Cocktails

Ingredients (makes 1 cocktail- multiply for more servings!)

1/4 teaspoon cloves

1/2 teaspoon brown sugar

1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon ground ginger

2 Pepperidge Farms Ginger Men cookies, crumbled

2 oz Root liquor

2 oz vodka

1/2 cup vanilla bean ice cream or gelato

3/4 cup whole milk

Maple syrup for rimming

1. Crush the ginger cookies in a food processor until finely ground. Mix with spices and sugar and put on a small plate.

2. Over the sink, brush maple syrup over the rim of a Collins glass so that the spices and crumbs have a sticky surface to adhere to. Place the rim into the spice mixture and move around so that all surfaces are covered.

3. In a blender, pour in the remaining spices from the plate, the Root, vodka, ice cream, and milk. Blend until smooth.

4. Pour into glass and garnish with cookie and a dash of ground cinnamon.

Do not skip the garnish. It is the absolute alter ego of the cocktail. And it has red sprinkles, ergo, it's really freaking cute. I rest my case. Please just make this- at the very least, you'll have a built-in excuse to avoid backyard football and Republican debates.