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Because it’s Christmas.

Today is Christmas.

And the day starts early.

I was raised in a family where the family businesses were a transmission repair and a burger place.

So, you either became a mechanic or a short order cook.

And while I can do more under the hood of a car than most, I am a shit mechanic.

Short order cook it is.

And here is why this has anything to do with Christmas morning.

I cook breakfast.

For all my bitter faults and shitty bully instincts, I am the shit with a skillet.

Breakfast is one of those special meals of the day.

Everybody likes breakfast and those that don’t are suspect in my book.

Hitler, Dahmer and Manson never ate/eat breakfast, thats a fact.

And all three were either vegetarians or vegans, so draw your own conclusions.

Bacon, breakfast is all about bacon.

Its kind of the linchpin that holds it all together.

Breakfast without bacon is just eggs without a purpose.

Bacon is what you add to other foods to make them better.

I have roughly 4 pounds of bacon to cook.

It is a heady thing to have a shit load of bacon within arms reach.

Its kind of like having a real pig without having to feed and care for it, just keep it refrigerated.

There was a movement on Facebook by Paul McCartney awhile back that was called Glass Walls, or something like that.

The whole thing was hinged on the idea that the only reason people eat meat is that they do not realize that the pig had to be slaughtered in order to get the bacon.

It turns out, that not only did that not matter to people, but they may have started eating more bacon because of it.

For every Glass Walls Facebook page that you saw, 3-4 Bacon support pages popped up.

But, even with my love of Bacon, I have gone vegetarian, almost vegan.

Except for the meat, cannot give up charred animal flesh no matter what I do.

There is a joy in this world that comes to my heart in a purely vicious way when I announce that I am vegetarian to other vegetarians.

And then I proclaim my love of meat and dislike of vegetables.

You drop that line and then wait.

You can see it in their eyes, percolating.

The gears are clearly turning as they try to process the information, the concept, of the meat eating vegetarian.

But that delay is not their fault, their brain is underfed and weak.

In the end, they usually just shake their heads and wander off.

The lack of rage inducing testosterone in their system makes them non-confontational.  

So the carnivores just run rough-shod, rampaging across the land.

As God intended.

Merry Christmas.

 

 
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Posted by on December 25, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

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What a Cork’er!

I have a confession to make.

I am one of those arrogant, elitist foodie types that loves going to restaurants and either falling in love with the food or ripping it to pieces.

But only certain types of food.

High end French food? Shit

Sushi? Uncooked, possibly rotten shit.

Anything involving a shellfish of any kind? I will aim for you when I projectile vomit.

However, make me a cheeseburger with bacon and ham ground up into the patty and then stuff it with a mix of exotic cheeses and I may shit myself in delight. (And they do that in a Cafe in Torrance, CA)

All of that being said, an old friend has opened an eating establishment.

Cork’ers.

First of all, they serve coffee. You had me at hello.

Their roast is an incredible one from a small local roaster.

Then, they serve food.

Modern, yet traditional Irish food. You had my grandmother at hello.

I have yet to have breakfast, but they have a creation called bacon jam that they will be spreading over waffles that makes my naughty bits tingle quite a bit.

And, in the evening hours, they will be serving a selection of beers and wines.

I am in love, that embarrassing schoolgirl type of love.

I am going to have a friend slip the eatery a note later and ask it if it likes me. (Complete with check boxes, Yes or No.)

I had spicy pork mixed with veggies and a dollop of sweet potato mash on top.

The pork is spicy enough to clear your sinuses.

I may have found a new home away from home.

Starbucks, you are hereby on notice.

(And not in the Ike and Tina way where I slap you around and throw you out then show up crying. TAKE ME BACK BABY!)

The nicest thing of all, its a fairly healthy eating alternative to my usual eatery.

Growing up, the family business was a kick ass burger place, so my eating preference is firmly in the “Comfort food” realm.

I plan on being here a lot.

This blog isn’t going to write itself.

Alright, so writing rude stream of consciousness stuff kind of does write itself, but you get what I mean.

Plus, the change of scenery will do me good.

 

It’s Sunday now.

Had breakfast at the aforementioned friend’s restaurant.

Holy shit.

Had the waffles folded over scrambled eggs, Irish bangers, and a generous smear of that bacon jam.

Had a little food-gasm on the first bite.

But the highlight of the morning was when the manager stopped me from ordering the house drip.

“Let me make you a special coffee that is one of my favorites.”

This is a lot like a crack dealer saying, “I got a special rock, just for you.”

Not the kind of thing that refusing even occurs to you.

Ethiopian Yirgacheffe.

Good lord.

I would try to be cute and say java-gasm, but that would not cover it.

Imagine if the Victoria super models dropped by, took you out for an evening of drinking at a party at the Playboy mansion with oral favors throughout.

Yeah, its a guy’s fantasy, (and a few of the ladies) but it conveys the point.

It was awesome.

And sure, there is a bit of glassy eyed honeymoon mentality at play here.

Its an old friend, its by my house, the bloom is ON THE ROSE.

Will it fade over time?

Maybe a bit, but its an Irish coffee place that makes some good breakfast.

Thats like a crack house with a really comfortable couch.

Its the little things that count.

I don’t promote stuff here, never have. I am doing this.

Cork’ers. Redondo Beach California. Near the Galleria. Find it and get your Bacon on.

 

 
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Posted by on December 16, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

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The annual food coma.

Do you mind, asshole?

There is something wrong with people.

Some sort of cognitive breakdown that occurs when some people get in public.

Specifically, it has to do with cell phones and videos.

Get a headset, bluetooth or old school plug in, take your pick.

The Starbucks is not a familiar one.

Its one of those “Sort of” Starbucks thats inside a Barnes and Noble book store.

They have the logo, but they are B & N people.

Its like a crack dealer that sells more ice cream out of the back of the ice cream truck than weed.

You know their heart is not in it.

To deal the beans, you have to understand the beans.

If you ever want to talk coffee beans, go to the Coffee Bean and ask the cashier about their Costa Rican brew.

The education is worthwhile, I can assure you.

Starbuck’s people know there stuff as well.

But my B&N brew tasted a little off, I asked the cashier what kind of roast it was?

She looked confused and then, looked at me with a straight face:

“It’s coffee.”

Wow.

I take my addiction seriously and I expect my dealer to as well.

But enough of that.

It’s Thanksgiving.

Time to visit The Family.

Holidays with my family is a lot like swimming in a tank with trained sharks.

When it goes well, everything is fine.

But never forget that the whole crowd can turn on you in an instant.

But, and this is the really important part, these are my people.

That unruly mob I mentioned that might chew up the unsuspecting and spit them out?

I am one of them.

I am the peasant with the pitchfork and the torch, screaming “Burn her, she’s a witch!”

In a manner of speaking.

 

Morning after Thanksgiving.

I noticed something pretty significant last night.

I used to be a severe turk-aholic.

Turkey, God’s gift to the pilgrims.

I used to live and breath turkey, but only on Thanksgiving.

Now? Not so much.

Now its the wine and desert.

Last night was a delightful Riesling paired with a dish without a name.

“Chocolate Crack” comes close, but not quite.

Let me describe the taste bud-gasm in detail.

A layer of chocolate.

A layer of marshmallow infused with cinnamon whiskey.

A later of caramel.

Another layer of chocolate.

A crumble across the top made of bacon, black pepper and Cayenne powder.

To call it rich is like saying a homeless guy could use some deodorant.

It is not something you wolf down.

It is something you take a small bite of, chewing slowly, discerning all of the different flavors and textures prior to taking a sip of wine to accompany it down your throat.

Just the memory of it has me both aroused and hungry.

And yet, if they sold it in the bakery case at Starbuck’s, I would never by it.

Because it all has to do with time and location.

Like a sandwich made by your mom when you were little, you’ve eaten better since, but they still stand out.

Happy Thanksgiving, hope you all enjoyed your people, I know I did.

 
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Posted by on November 29, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

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Deep Fried Goodness

Question: When is a deep fried Twinkie healthy?

Answer: When its deep fried in pure canola oil and wrapped in recycled paper.

Welcome to the LA County Fair.

The sign I am looking at has well over a dozen, evil gut-buster delicacies, and at the bottom of the window, a sun-faded sign proclaims that all items are deep fried in pure Canola oil.

Well, that just makes it all better , doesn’t it?

County Fairs as a general rule don’t really have a strangle hold on the health food issue.

And I am good with that.

You almost have to have bad food at a fair.

Its expected.

Not to partake of the deep fried goodness would be like going to a Tijuana Strip club and ordering a lite beer.

It just misses the point.

There is always new stuff the is deep fried every year that I have never seen.

It amazes me. You would think that it has all been done by now.

Here are the 5 mainstays of the deep fried fair world.
1. Twinkies.
2. Oreos.
3. Foot Long corn dogs.
4. Snickers.
5. Funnel cake.

Of them all, corn dogs and funnel cakes I can deal with. With the rest I have to make a judgement call as to the current state of my stomache. Nothing ruins a day at the County Fair more than projectile vomiting.

As for the new comers to the deep fried carnie-world, here they are.
1. Kool aid (I shit you not.)
2. Cream cheese. (Not bad, actually)
3. Butter. (Good god.)
4. Bacon. (Which is then dipped in chocolate, just to add insult to injury.)
5. A ten inch wide maple donut, covered with bacon bits, topped with a hot fudge sunday, topped with whipped cream, nuts and cherry. (While not a true County Fair, fried food, I wanted it included here because it shocked the living shit out of me and I am still in awe.)

My fiancee continues to argue to this day that the nuts at least “Give it some protein.”

This is a lot like arguing that at least Meth is fat free.

Let me get back to that Maple-bacon-donut-hot fudge-sunday. It was incredible.

It wasn’t even on the menu, it was a combination of two separate items on the menu. When we suggested it to the cashier, she looked at us in confusion, like we had just told her that her cat had tennis elbow.

Didn’t compute.

Three cashiers, a manager, and two cooks later, it was decided that it could be done. The biggest delay was them trying to figure out how much to charge for it. To carnies, this is their whole reason for being.

We ended up paying the same price as if we had bought both a Maple-bacon donut and a Hot-fudge sunday.

Whatever, creating a legend is never cheap.

I ate half of that monster and my stomach still twinges. Projectile vomiting was on the table that day, but I managed to keep it together.

The taste was incredible.

Plus, it had peanuts.

 
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Posted by on October 12, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

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