Welcome back to the weekly roundup here at Eating Our Words, where there can never be enough varieties of the Newton. We're working on a Boston Cream Pie Newton that should be ready before the end of the year, assuming we can get our taste testers to stop coughing up blood.
Fish envelopes! We chose to start out the week with them. Next week: fish stamps. We're trying to make things as nightmarish for the post office as possible.
Two new things for you to try: McDonald's fruit smoothies, and Melange Creperie's fig and goat cheese crepe. For those of you trying to lose weight, may we suggest some of these batshit insane diet methods, many of which work, but not for the reasons you'd hope. Graphic, squirty bathroom episodes, anyone?
Speaking of which, there's a bunch of new hot sauce offerings from the Big Daddy company for those of you whose taste buds and pain receptors are hopelessly entwined. What is it with you people? I like hot sauce, but with this stuff, it's like you're trying to punish your tongue for something it tasted years ago. "I'LL NEVER FORGIVE YOU FOR BRUSSELS SPROUTS, YOU SON OF A BITCH!" I would no sooner sample a hot sauce called "Ass Burn" than I would wear a pair of underwear labeled "Cock Stab." Maybe the hot sauce companies are in it together with the ice cream companies to boost ice cream sales.
If you like this story, consider signing up for our email newsletters.
SHOW ME HOW
EaDo looks like it's coming along nicely, as is the macaroni at Tan Tan. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for Dickey's, another upholder of the long tradition of substandard barbecue in Houston. So sad. Ribs are expensive, yo. Cooking them badly is worse than just throwing them to the dogs.
Surprisingly few people were hurt at the recent ceviche throwdown, and to add to the good news, Houston is finally getting a taste of some of Chicago's famous popcorn. And the good news keep right on coming: Now you folks who work in and around the Medical Center have a new place to go get smashed after work. Remember: after work, not before. That's how my Uncle Diane wound up getting a sex change instead of an appendectomy.
Are people constantly nodding off at your long-winded stories? Well cheer up: Now you can tell them to Texas Folklife, who have for some reason volunteered to listen. Just don't make random shit up, like for instance the recent Twitter rumor that Gravitas is closing. Oh, Twitter, you make us all so sad. If we can't trust thousands of random people speculating and outright guessing, then who can we trust? I ask you.
Finally, Ernie's on Banks is now the Grand Prize, and it's a pretty cool place. They have Motorhead, Arcade Fire, and Curtis Mayfield on the jukebox. 'Nuff said.