Welcome back to the weekly roundup here at Eating...Our Words, where the hellish heat of the Houston summer months means chefs and bartenders alike are trying to sneak cucumbers into things. QUIT IT.
We started the week off right with a great big celebration of things we know are wrong to do, but we do them anyway. I started going over things that I intentionally do wrong to contribute in the comments, and wound up with way too long a list. Then I started trying to think of things I did right, and all I could come up with was "buy orange juice that isn't from concentrate." And now I'm rethinking pretty much every single aspect of my life. Thanks for that, Katharine.
It's hard to stay in too bad a mood, though, when you can listen to several comedians' best routines about food right here. And because you can never have too much Patton Oswalt, here's what happened when he actually tried a KFC Famous Bowl, and here's his subsequent reflection upon an experimental KFC abomination, the Mega Leg. You go enjoy now.
Our brand-new high-ranking military officer/staff writer General Observations reported in from last weekend's Free Press Summer Fest with some thoughts. As far as my personal opinion goes, I had a sausage on a stick at a nameless BBQ stand that was surprisingly spicy, tangy and delicious. The festival's biggest loser was Pink's Pizza, who served me a burnt ShamWow with tomato sauce on it inside a huge cardboard box that became the single most common litter item I saw. I should add for fairness' sake that I usually love Pink's Pizza and there must have been some kind of fluke. Unless they really don't like my column and had that one failslice waiting for me, in which case: fair enough.
Like to bring your own booze to places? Well, there are some lovely places around town where you can do this, although most of them draw the line at homemade white lightning, I learned during a very dark time in my life. Speaking of crippling sadness: Check out the listless glop Wendy's is serving for sides. No wonder they recently switched to a cute young redheaded spokesmodel who has obviously never eaten a single meal at Wendy's in her life.
The new dessert menu at Kata Robata looks absolutely amazing, and not just the one with like eight different kinds of mango, although that is sure as shit the one I am eying. It might even pass muster with New York City's nanny-state mayor and his war on calories. Talk about the wrong thing done with good intentions. Since when do adults get to tell other adults what they can and can't eat? This makes me want to contract diabetes in defiance. Defiabetes.
I don't know how a product with Southern overtones can get away with calling itself "Slap Ya Mama" since any slapped Southern mama is seconds away from serious counterslapping. Possibly with a pipe wrench.
Finally: Here's where you can go to get awesome cold treats around town. It looks like we are really going to need them.
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