Weirdly enough, this contains references to two of the things I hated most in college that compelled the masses- Humans vs. Zombies and nitrous oxide. The bag is deep and dark, with claw marks, topical references to the holiday, a zombie warning sign fresh out of the clearance bin at Spencer Gifts, and lots and lots o’ Photoshop veneer. Have the beloved Takis been taken over by zombies, perhaps former communications and graphic design majors with a lust for blood, brains, and jobs with fair pay? There’s a spooky Halloween for you. I’m not sure if these particular zombies revere the complex heat of habanero or the cooling, vitamin C rich benefits of cucumbers, but either way, it’s a unique flavor concept that kicks the pants off the Lay’s wasabi chips. Continue reading “Barsel Takis Zombie Nitro”
When I am feeling depressed, which is, as my therapist tells me, an entirely normal thing despite it happening more often than I’d prefer, I remind myself that I ate a $1,000 sundae. I ate it while smiling at screaming children, a verb, adjective, and noun pairing that comes only once in a blue moon, when I’m sending thoughts their way to the tune of, “This costs more than a week at your boarding school, this costs more than your vacation, I am putting it in my mouth. I will shit gold.” It’s a bit of a clunky mantra but man, it works. Continue reading “I ate a $1,000 sundae; I do not have to be good.”
Maybe it was the excessive profanity, or distancing from my family, or perhaps the entire butchering and consumption of a whole pig that piqued you, but I’m not necessarily the most observant Jewish person in the world. Specifically, I take an existentialist approach to the whole shebang, short of turning my tallis into an ascot- it’s what you make of it and it’s what it means to you. More specifically, I’m not great at yom kippur, but I always enjoy it, except for the one year that a young men’s rights activist threw out my birthday cake in the 4th grade because my birthday landed on the day of atonement and food fasting. Damn it, Max, I wasn’t even a real woman yet.
But as a holiday, I find it comforting to sit in bed and sip loose lapsang while The Bedfellow and I watxu the 2010 Vienna production of Carmen blast, or bond over a compilation of traffic accident-related public service announcements and contemplate my mortality and the many blunders over the past year that allowed me to avoid it, and overall, determine that it was indeed, a sweet year, and cap the day off with oysters and a rousing listen to kol nidre, brought to you by Neil Diamond in ‘The Jazz Singer’. And this year, we broke the fast with hipster yogurt and unlimited ahi tuna procured from TGI Friday’s offshore river banks. Chag same’ach indeed.
Continue reading “White Moustache Yalta Yogurt”
Disclaimer: This shop has been compensated by Collective Bias, Inc. and its advertiser. All opinions are mine alone. I was paid by the internet, for the internet, and shall not perish from this earth before eating my weight in avocados.
Christ, do I love bodegas. Hartford has ’em, New York has better. Rows upon rows of food the likes of which I’ve rarely cooked with, and if you’re nice, amazing sandwiches and deli treats to boot. Not to mention being the ideal hangover helper. So while I was in New York last weekend, I picked up some ingredients at my favorite stop (shout out to Tehuitzingo for also making me want tacos after Betony) and came home to cook something amazing. Connecticut is Goya country, so when I was asked to cook something using La Morena’s hot ingredients, like jalapeno and chipotle peppers, I was curious to see what I could come up with. Continue reading “Chipotle Honey Mofongo”
I’m taking back my own damned blog.
I’ve spent the last month anxiously yapping about it at ten-minute table talk sessions, I’ve fervently advocated for it and laughed too loudly at dinners with endless cocktails and enough steak to fell a Texan. But it hasn’t really felt like mine. Do not blame me, readers, for falling prey to the allure of capitalism, networking: the potential to work alongside esteemed writers with eponymes like eggboy and Dex, grinding out ouevres like ‘Ten Ways to Garbage Up Chinese Takeout,’ and, ‘Why My Ovaries Hate Gluten: A Primer’ on fly-by-night Millenial publications. Do not fault me for double-fisting gimlets at that one reception. Do not hate me for not hating.
A few weeks ago, we drove down to Norwalk for a stupendous dinner at Washington Prime, a new restaurant in the south part of the city near the old Chocopologie location. This was yet another bacchanal coordinated by Linda and her amazing PR team, and after a dry summer, we were looking forward to getting back to eating and drinking our way through the state. Washington Prime has been open for about two months now and features a new American menu with steak, locally-sourced vegetables, cheese, and bread, and clever cocktails on the menu.We sat outside while waiting for the group to arrive and sampled some of the cocktails, starting with the Pink Lady, with gin, pink peppercorns, lemon, and rose liqueur. The peppercorns were underwhelming but the drink was refreshing, with a nice foam on top. The Pippy Longstocking was equally delicious- strawberry lemonade with gin, vanilla beans, and seltzer, and the vanilla was the clear standout. While we didn’t try the dirty martini, we admired that it was served smoking with dry ice billowing off the sides of the glass! Continue reading “Washington Prime, Norwalk, CT”