Welcome back to the weekly roundup here at Eating Our Words, where we've just invented the Emperor Cake. It's just like a king cake, except stuffed with donuts. Talk about Fat Tuesday.

We started the week off with a look into some of Houston's better restaurant logos. Who knew how appetite-inducing a classed-up version of the Red Bull logo could be? This article made us sad that Cream Burger doesn't have a logo. Come on, think about that name. That logo could be pure NSFW greatness.

A lot of people were disgusted by the fact that nearly everything that claims to have blueberries in it does not. Really, though, it's not that surprising. Either you've resigned yourself to subsisting mainly on mechanically separated chemical pulp, or you're out killing your own food with Ted Nugent. Blueberry, in its synthetic or natural forms, does not belong in beer, however. We're gonna have to be sticklers about this one.

We might actually be getting some decent ballpark food soon, so you can enjoy munching on that while you're watching the Astros bumble around the field like nine drunken prom dates. We say Minute Maid Park takes a tip from Vintner's Own in the Heights and serves wine on tap. Worst thing that could happen? We get shitfaced and burn the place down. Did I say "worst?" I meant "best."

There are at least five places around town that serve great eggs, and here are our favorites. Eggs, sausage, and biscuits with gravy has to be the best hangover breakfast ever. I want to get drunk tonight just so I can have it again properly. A close second would be anything from Spaghetti Western. God, I love that place.

Commenters we respect have touted the "greatness" of Hooters' wings, despite the fact that every time I've had them, their texture was as if they'd been baked on a 1971 Plymouth's crankcase and then stored in a jar of sand for a couple days. Some of our commenters, however, got it right with some excellent recommendations. Wings are not actually all that difficult to get right, unlike proper fettuccine alfredo, which can dissolve into a goopy mess at any stage in its preparation. That's not so bad, though; "goopy mess" is one of my favorite kinds of pasta.

We're all about variety here at Eating Our Words, which is why when we found out we could get beef seven ways, we were all about it. If that's not enough variety for you, try our follow-up to our wildly successful soda-by-state project, but this time with beer. Feel free to bitch along in the comments!