Welcome back to the weekly roundup here at Eating Our Words, where bullet ballistics tests on cantelopes, melons, pineapples, and all manner of fruitstuffs remain inconclusive but really fun. We started the week off with a study into the greatest Easter candies, and of course, the title went to Peeps. Oh wait... we were looking at the list of worst Easter candies. HERESY. At least Cadbury Creme Eggs were included in the latter as well. TWiD can eat about 1 Cadbury Creme Egg a year; it helps us get into the Easter spirit, but it also helps to remind us that certain candies will always taste like a low-end Hershey's Kiss full of diabetes.
Stromboli, anyone? It would probably go well with the many fine cocktails at Anvil, which just celebrated its one-year anniversary.
We've also got news on some red-hot chili peppers that don't suck, unless you're the type of person who doesn't like swallowing battery acid and glass shards, in which case, okay, it might suck a little. These weaponized peppers clock in at 1,000,000 units on the Scoville heat scale, which is measured by how many times you take the Lord's name in vain after ingesting the spicy item. Ever hear someone screaming "JESUSJESUSJESUSJESUS" for five days straight? That'll be one of these peppers, yeah.
We have to agree with the commenters; a Shameless Chef cookbook is a great idea. Nothing would say "I do not take gift-exchanging opportunities seriously" like a cookbook featuring wads of incongruent pasta and cheese on the cover. In fact, the cover would probably look a lot like one of these advertisements. Everything was terrifying in the 70's, kids. It was a dark time.
Like us, the Japanese have their own dubious hangover cures, but we think we'll stick with our favorite hangover cure: a huge, greasy breakfast. It seriously works. Of course some people recommend avoiding certain foods and then heading out for some Bikram yoga. These people are insane. In case you don't know what Bikram yoga is, it's yoga that you do inside a big steam room while you bend and sweat and strain and try not to pass out. Essentially it is Hell, if Hell smelled like mushroom soup and balls.
The banh bot chien battle this week was a close one, but not as close as a cop tailing you on Washington Avenue. "Hi there! I'm Officer Quota and I'll be following you with my front bumper exactly one centimeter away from yours until you inevitably screw up, at which point I'll pull you over and ticket your ass." While the thought of fining people for hanging out around Washington Avenue is a nice one, it also unfortunately happens to be a convenient conduit from the Heights into downtown. Cut us some slack, coppers. Or at least learn to recognize a drunken broseph from the neck-up.
Here are some vegan foods which the vegans are swearing us carnivores will enjoy. They just want us to accept them so badly, don't they? Not going to happen, vegans. Sorry. You will remain outcasts, forcing yourself to choke down soy-shaped into hot dogs or whatever technological horror your tofu-scarfing alchemists have cooked up lately. We'll say this for you: You guys are some tough bastards. That shit takes willpower TWiD has never even come close to possessing.
Robb Walsh was deservingly nominated for a James Beard Award! Congrats to Robb! We look forward to many more years working alongside one of our favorite food writers, a helluva guy who has always been... oh, wait, he's leaving? Dammit! But... but... awwwww.
To cheer us up, let's all go out and eat a metric assload of fine, fine sandwiches, or "sammiches" as they are sometimes called, by us, to all of our friends, despite their constant protests. We will try not to get tears on our bacon.
Hmmm... hey, Eric Clapton, we've got a long overdue follow-up single for you. "Tears On Bacon." Come on, Slowhand, get in touch.
