Welcome back to the weekly roundup here at Eating Our Words, where we still don't understand why people make such a big deal out of paella. Y'all know it's like 90 percent rice, right? If rice dishes were rock stars, paella would be Peter Criss.
We started the week off right with some fancy-ass macaroni and cheese, all dolled up like the shameless hussy that it is. And don't think we don't see you over there, dumplings, all steamy and scrumptious. Lord have mercy.
Would you believe that the previous paragraph wasn't the most unsettling thing we've run this week? That title belongs to the hand porn. Get us together with notorious foot fetishist Quentin Tarantino and we'll slaver over those elegant extremities all day, or at least until it's time to adjourn for some autoerotic asphyxiation.
The Grateful Dead are one of the most overrated bands of all time, but don't use that as an excuse to avoid Heights Ashbury's promising fare. Also, don't let the somewhat ingenious term "bycatch" turn you off to what can be, in the right hands, a downright winsome seafood medley. You know, like all those delightful little singing sea creatures in The Little Mermaid! Except cooked and eaten.
We started a new feature this week: A Page Outta, in which Nicholas Hall puts himself at the mercy of you sadistic bastards as to which recipe he'll be cooking from week to week. And boy oh boy, you sonsabitches really started off strong on the first go-round. Holy hell was that dish ever pointless. I love it.
Southern Star Brewery has quickly become the darling of many a Texas boozehound, and now you can walk around where the magic -- and sweat -- happens. Hey man, pour me an ice-cold Walloon glass full of Bombshell Blonde and I'll march straight into Hell, I'll tell you that much right now.
"Yeah right," you're probably muttering to yourself, "I bet if I stood you up at the gates of Hell you'd back down." BUT I WON'T. I WON'T BACK DOWN.
Let's see how quickly we can count to twenty-five. Ready! Set! GO! Five great virgin cocktails: they forgot orange juice and ginger ale in what I like to call the Pantomimosa. Five hot weather plants: what, no cactus? Five greatest kinds of cheap booze: Yes! YES! God, we're awesome. Top five places to see and be seen: and to be avoided like the plague by yours truly. Five Houston food trends headed this-a-way: what, no cactus? Since evidently this summer is going to be friggin apocalyptic and all.
Finally, we chose 2011's best new restaurant. And it's only just become June; that's how convinced we are that Pondicheri is number one. And the best thing about calling it early like that is that no one will disagree with us or throw this in our faces when other good restaurants open up between now and January.
Have a great weekend!
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