Dunkin’ Donuts Pretzel Roast Beef and Dijon Sandwich

I hate it when my food tries to attack me. At least, that was my most naïve of misconceptions, when in the past my worries chiefly consisted of angry, snapping lobsters and the omnipresent fear of my steaks coming back to life after being seared for a full 3.5 seconds after death. Now I have to worry about plants. The dumbest of plants in fact – wheat. Now instead of inspecting my steak tartare, I’m cowering at the slightest mention of a goddamned sandwich.

I’m a firm believer in attacking things head-on—internet stalkers, daddy issues, and allergies alike. As a child, I endured test upon test to see if I had a cashew allergy after a breakout of hives while eating lo mein. After the tests, I ate a PB&J. I’m stone-cold tough, natch. So this gluten allergy, or intolerance, or irritability has been getting me down. This is the eighth beef product I’ve eaten this week. And of course, of course it would be that every single fast food establishment near me would start rolling out pretzel buns. Dunkin’ Donuts has started, but it is I who shall finish.
The new Roast Beef and Dijon sandwich is literally perfect. It succeeds on almost every front where Wendy’s new Pretzel Cheeseburger did not—a balance of savory and sweet flavors, plentiful meat, and an exceptional pretzel bun. I mean, look at that wrinkled, delicious bastard. It’s got a top as greasy as a Real Housewives of Jersey audition, and has an immediately sweet, fresh aroma. I had to run an errand before I got home, and as soon as I opened the car door to retrieve my sandwich, the Honda was filled with a bready, slightly salty scent. The sandwich has roast beef, Swiss cheese, and the Dijon spread popular in other sandwiches, most recently, the Cuban sandwich, which this seems to have replaced. The only peeve I could find was that the beef was overcooked and on the chewy side.  

Having had Nick’s of Beverly, I’m more partial to rare deli meat now. But the Dijon had a sweet flavor and surprisingly, neither the meat nor the cheese were too salty. The real star was the pretzel roll. I wouldn’t be surprised if these were from Pretzilla. The rock salt on top absolutely made it, giving each bite a little extra depth and tang, and the roll didn’t shy away from its roots, carrying that iron-heavy, honeyed quintessential flavor. I could eat one of these alone – if the first bite didn’t almost immediately give me a terrible stomachache and knock me out cold for an hour. Damn you, gluten. At least this will be a good treat for the Bedfellow. And for me, vicariously.

Yoplait Cosmopolitan

Some days you wake up feeling like a tool. Your apartment is not yet ready, leaving you stranded in your childhood basement bedroom, and you are on a gluten-free diet the instant cupcake-flavored Goldfish and key lime cookies rear their ugly, delicious heads on the shelves. Your current apartment may look like a warehouse, the kind used in mafia films. Unfortunately, you are no Tony Soprano. You are wearing a t-shirt from your local police department and are constantly on the verge of smelly tears.

And some days are okay. Like today. The sun is shining, your cop shirt accentuates your slender calves and newly shorn buzzcut, and you have eggs and bacon for breakfast along with a new yogurt. What kind of yogurt? Why, it’s Yoplait Cosmopolitan!

This spring’s latest issue is pink and trendy, and boasts a catchy ‘in season for a limited time’ sticker on the front- just like those awful sunglasses you’re wearing. It’s totally worth the $11.99, especially considering how it mimics its inspiration. Really, it’s incredible how many details they managed to fit in. The color of the yogurt is pink, like the dress Megan Fox wore 88% better than Rosie O’Donnell, and mimics the hue of your man’s cheeks when you tell him you want to abbhhzzzzhhhhbb your bbzzzhhbbt in his errbbbzzzbt with a rrrbbbuuuuurrrdkkkyyy. It’s chalky and pasty, almost as if you were taking pages of the real Cosmopolitan and were shoving them in your mouth in between sips of the new chia vanilla smoothie to tone your buns. (p. 79)

The container is a little awkward- it’s not as large as the full-sized Yoplait yogurts, yet somehow has the same amount of calories, 170. It’s squat and thick, like Kim Kardashian, lacking that pop of the original containers. The flavor is zingy and clever, reminding me of the clever sex tips in Cosmopolitan, especially the one about how to sex your sex sexily in the sexiest-

Hang on.

Nobody wanted to tell me? This is inspired by the drink. The goddamned Cosmopolitan, the drink of the besmirched Carrie Bradshaw. Well, this yogurt tastes enough like cranberry and lime- it’s pretty tart, but it’ll take more than 170 calories to work off the shame of this confusion. In conclusion, Yoplait Cosmopolitan makes a better magazine than it does a social lubricant. Back to the basement.

Delicia Red Velvet Malt Beverage

Last week, the internet sent me broken champagne flutes, a clutch, lipstick and hell. Hell in the form of a premium carbonated malt liquor by the name of Delicia. Delicia is new ladyjuice for the ladies, especially the ones who crave something a little more dangerous than champagne with more instructions than the Anarchist’s Cookbook.

Delicia comes in four flavors: red velvet, whipped (yes, just ‘whipped’, which you’ll be both if you purchase this and after you drink it), peaches and cream, and strawberries and cream. Of course, it was essential that we try red velvet as my goal of becoming 14% red velvet cake can only be achieved by ingesting it in liquid form. Delicia came with activities for my ladyfriends and I. Little did they know that Stila lipgloss only makes me look more like a low-budget Chaz Bono impersonator pre-Chazzing. The more you know!

Armed with an iTunes gift card and a studded clutch, which I like to imagine was hand-selected for me due to my sassy personality, the Bedfellow and I went about trying this. It took us a while. We were scared, unprepared to party, and not quite ready to experience the sultry bubbles of cream cheese frosting and copious red food dye. But some things, like awful teen blockbusters and traffic accidents, come together organically, so at 12:35PM this afternoon, in a dark warehouse of a studio apartment, we found ourselves duly prepared to rock out with our mock out.

Delicia is liquid Spring Breakers. It’s the kind of thing everyone will be talking about and be curious to try, but its disappointment is a special breed of cur, the likes of which will leave red streaks of dye on your fingers and the taste of Tootsie Roll and KoolAid hooch in your mouth. It’s so sugary it makes Coke look like a sensible diet solution- both the soda and the drug. It has a bitter, beerlike aftertaste and aggressive bubbliness, like Kristin Chenoweth. And for all that fuss- alcohol? Alca-who? The alcohol content on this is so far gone it’s on the walls outside Walmart under the ‘missing children’ section. A fifth grader couldn’t find the alcohol in this. In a sense, it is perfectly marketed- toward the women in the bar nobody wants to speak to. The ones from New Jersey or Boston with bubblegum in their cheeks like pink-hued chaw and an inch of caked-on eyeshadow. They’re drinking this.

And for all their pomp and circumstance about knocking someone’s mascaraed eye out of their socket with the cork popping, Delicia’s silky, sparkly outer liner reveals a hard, stubby screwcap. Disappointment abound, and another ladyexploring ladynight ruined by diabetes.

We’ll always have the party playlist, Delicia.


I’m working on embedding this in the post- damn you, Playlist! In the meantime, enjoy this text list.

1. David Bowie- Cat People
2. Gwen Stefani- Southside
3. Beats Antique- Oriental Uno
4. RJD2- Gypsy Caravan
5. The Doors- Alabama Song
6. Federico Aubele- Contigo
7. Serge Gainsbourg- Qui est in, qui est out
8. Beck- Sexx Laws
9. La Bouche- Be My Lover
10. Scissor Sisters- Laura
11. Moby- Run On
12. Billy Squier- Lonely is the Night
13. Kanye West- Runaways

The Generous Pour at the Capital Grille, Providence, RI

The Bedfellow and I took a trip to Newport this weekend to check out the folk festival. While we were watching Beth Orton and Shovels and Rope, and not watching Beck play ‘Sexx Laws’ because he was too busy exploring his emotions, we were invited to take a side trip to the Capital Grille in Providence to check out this year’s Generous Pour event.

As you know from last year’s event, seven to nine wines are selected, generally around a theme or specific region, and are offered at an upcharge of $25 per person to be paired alongside a three or four-course meal so diners can sample the entire selection without opening full bottles. This year centered around California wines above 90 points, playfully named ’90 in the Shade.’ We started our meal with a few appetizers, and the first three wines.

One of the appetizer specials sounded too good to pass up, the chilled Maryland crab cocktail with a spicy mustard sauce—and no, not just because of the sauce on the side. Eight hours in the sun at a music festival had me craving savory, cold protein, so with that and the Wagyu carpaccio with wasabi arugula, we were set to start a wonderful meal. The crab was perfect, with a light, savory chew and tender bite. It almost didn’t need the sauce on the side, for a drizzle of tart lemon enhanced the natural salinity of the meat.
Both meats were delicious on a whole, but could have benefitted from a reduction of extra enhancements on the side. The carpaccio was served with a wasabi arugula salad and shavings of fresh, nutty parmesan. Both delicious, but the melty, fatty flavor of the meat was overshadowed by the sharpness of the cheese. It paired well alongside the arugula, though, and may have been the only salad I’d have asked for seconds of.

With these appetizers and the classic Capital Grille breadbasket, filled with flatbread, poppy rolls, and raisin brown bread, were the three whites- a 2012 La Crema Pinot Gris, 2011 Matanzas Creek Sauvignon blanc, and 2011 Freemark Abbey Chardonnay. My favorite was the sauvignon blanc, which had a curious varietal flair to it, almost musky and caramely, with a highly perfumed nose and snappy, bright finish. The Freemark and La Crema were also tasty, neither oaky nor overly dry, but not as memorable in terms of their uniqueness and pairing alongside the food.

For entrees, we were both craving steak after a day of sandwiches and smoothies at the beach, so I ordered the 24-ounce Porterhouse and the Bedfellow went for some surf and turf with a filet mignon. To eat alongside, we requested half orders of the creamed corn with bacon, Parmesan and truffle fries, and lobster macaroni and cheese. We may have gone completely overboard, as the side portions were absolutely enormous. The steaks were served with four reds, starting with the two lighter wines, a 2005 Kendall Jackson Highland Estate Merlot, and the 2011 Hartford Court Pinot Noir, and the heavier-bodied following them, the 2009 Atalon Cabernet Sauvignon and the 2007 Arrowood Syrah. I enjoyed them, but on a whole, did not find the selection as diverse as last year’s world tour of wines. The merlot stood out the most for me, with a rich, chocolatey flavor and velvety finish, and could have easily stood its own against the syrah, which personally had less bottle age and depth to it, despite being the heavier of the choices.  
I asked for my steak to be cooked a shade to the left of medium rare, as I still wanted some crisp but also wanted to relish the joy of stabbing it dead with my fork on it . It was perfectly cooked, albeit a hair more done at the edges, as it was thinner on the sides. I could barely make a dent in it, as it turns out that two pounds of steak are reserved for the metabolistic superhumans of this world. My sangfroid dissolved with each warm-blooded bite. But what I did have was delicious, and I tucked into it with gusto. Simple, clean in flavor, and cooked as I pleased.

The filet was cooked perfectly, plenty rare in the middle and juicy pink on the outside, but had a few technical flaws that detracted from the simple flavor of the meat. For one, the entire plate was swimming in a flavorful parmesan, garlic, and butter sauce better suited to a plate of pasta than to two delicate and expensive proteins. While I’m hardly objecting to butter on steak, one of life’s greatest pairings, the amount was downright excessive and coated each bite. The lobster was enhanced by this, as it was slightly overcooked, but the steak just felt overly heavy alongside such a decadent sauce.

The Bedfellow isn’t crazy about Parmesan, so I alternated between bites of steak and fries throughout the meal. The fries were excellent and very crispy, and loaded with cheese and just the slightest hint of truffle oil and cilantro. The cheese made it difficult to get one fry without tearing a few others off it, as it melted them into one large metafry, but was still delicious alongside the meat.

Our other sides were massive, the creamed corn being the Cinderella story of the night, perfectly balancing the gap between overly rich, dairy-heavy corn and plain vegetables with the bacon and, presumably, the bacon fat melting into the corn. It was fresh and served rustically with some larger segments of corn as if it had been recently shucked. Smoky and very summery.

And of course, I couldn’t take the Bedfellow here without having her try the famous lobster macaroni and cheese. This one was particularly heavy on the mascarpone, which I loved, and the pasta cooked exceptionally well, cradling the cheeses in its horn-shaped pieces. This is my favorite usage of campanelle. Oddly enough, the lobster was perfectly cooked in this, leading me to wonder if two different people had been cooking the lobster tails and the claw pieces in the pasta.
After that part of the feast, we’d saved just enough room for dessert. Our sweet server, who had been doubling both as a sommelier and dutiful waiter all evening, brought us a slice of flourless espresso chocolate cake from the chef, and we ordered some of their coconut creme pie alongside our coffees to finish off the meal before we went back to our tent. The cake was light, fluffy, and deeply infused with all the flavonoid glory to go with the dessert wine, a non-porty Zinfandel port from Sonoma County.
The coconut pie was the perfect way to finish the meal, and I’m unashamed to say that I’d been waiting all year for it- the fluffy cream, the boozy caramel, and the thick, salted crust complemented it all so well. I missed the crispy cookie on top, though! 
It was a wonderful meal and honestly, an even better breakfast when we woke up the next morning for the second day of the folk  festival. A special, big thanks to the team at the Providence location and the PR folks for the Capital Grille for having us for dinner.

Art in the Age Rhubarb [tea]

I’ve been watching a lot of 30 Rock lately and, since this morning, when I witnessed Episode 318, ‘Jackie Jormp-Jomp,” I’ve come to the sobering and ultimately deadening conclusion that this summer has basically been one, long dizzy day in the life of a middle-aged divorcee. If I take one more charming, aimless drive in the middle of the afternoon to the countryside or spend one more hour at the hot tub in the health club or at some coffee shop, I’m going to need to add another therapist to my Fall 2013 lineup. 

I think I’m ready for law school to start.

The most exciting thing I’ve done so far has been my nightly habit of a cocktail, coffee, and languid cruise around Petfinder, where I’ve submitted not one, but four applications for four separate Welsh Corgis who are desperately in need of a home, but, according to their rabid caretakers, not so desperate as to be placed in the carefully decorated one-bedroom apartment of a very well-dressed law student slash Casanova. Even though I asked multiple times, it does not give me any bonus points that I resemble a Welsh Corgi. 

Adopting a dog is more difficult than getting reservations at Jose Andres’ minibar in the summer, when I expected it would be as easy as walking into a Burger King, or at the very least, Gabrielle Hamilton’s Prune. So, I’ve stuck to what I’m good at, which is making craft cocktails and coming up with cute names for other pudgy, short-statured creatures. In other news, you can all start calling me ‘Mutton,’ but my fallback is ‘Bark.’ Ladies and gentlemen, Rhubarb, from Art in the Age.

It’s fresh, very herbaceous and verdant in flavor, and was sent to me after I missed their summer launch party, which included fresh doughnuts. Zut! But I’ve made up for that by drinking it with everything, including homemade fresh mozzarella with orange olive oil and fleur de sel…

And sundried tomato orzo with Scarpetta pesto, the aforementioned mozz, mascarpone cheese, and proscuitto. It’s a wonderfully versatile mixer, and in the past few weeks, I’ve enjoyed experimenting with various sweet fruits and syrups: club soda, lingonberry syrup, Q grapefruit, lemon, and orange soda, fresh lime juice, and even Chai tea has gone marvelously with it.

The Foodette (aka, Picture Unrelated)
(Aka, No Internet)
(Aka, Bark)
Ingredients: 2,5 ounces of Rhubarb liquor, 1/2 cup of Q lemon soda, 1/2 cup of club soda, squeeze of lemon
Instructions: Shake Rhubarb over ice, strain, mix soda and lemon in. Drink immediately. Forget to take photos and have another cocktail.

Campbell’s SpaghettiOs Cheeseburger-Os

It’s difficult to not have all my stuff in one place. Half of it is here, half is packed and in my car, ready to go, the really important child-sized desk and broken IKEA bed frame is at my mother’s, and there is a multitude of clothing and ill-fitting jackets at various homes throughout the Atlantic Seaboard. Meanwhile, my punctuality has gotten the better of me, and I’m left scratching my head as all my shelf-stable groceries are put into boxes, wondering what I can do with two Kraft American Singles, malt liquor, half a jar of jam, and yuzu rind for dinner.
Usually, I just get a cheeseburger or grill some chicken and eat it over the next few days, but when Cheeseburger-O’s came in the mail, I was excited to have my meals further expedited. Cheeseburger flavor without the hassle of obtaining a cheeseburger.No need to venture out into the world with the hesitation of a feral kitten untouched by meaty human fingers. All I needed was a microwave, a can opener, and moxie, none of which I had at the ready.
Long story short, the can sat on my shelf and taunted me for half a week until I had obtained the necessary appliances. What? I don’t eat things in cans! Noblesse obese, you guys, a girl’s gotta have some standards. I finally got around to sampling the dainties with the Bedfellow last night, in what shall henceforth be known as a ‘terrible mistake’.
Cheeseburger-O’s are the third new flavor Spaghetti-O’s has released in half a century, and considering the rate which Apple drops iPods like a teen mom, that’s an impressively austere feat. They promise 750 O’s in every can, a phrase which I resent and am considering copyrighting. I’m pretty sure my very similar promise has been around longer, anyhow, if you count five years of relentless activity as longer. Whatever, you’ll hear from my lawyers. Me, in a few years, maybe. Cheeseburger O’s have the condiments of a cheeseburger in geriatric, spoonable form- mustard, tomato sauce, cheese, pasta, and beef. It’s like the 99 cent Wylie Dufresne cheeseburger that you eat with a spoon. Except that it’s not.
It’s not that I wouldn’t cotton to the flavor of cheeseburger-infused pasta, it’s that it failed before it was even out of the can. Nothing about this tasted like a burger or even had aspects of a burger outside of the tiny pieces of ground beef, and since Campbell’s makes Spaghetti-O’s with beef already, this is a redundant point. The sauce is watery and highly sweetened and bland, though perhaps has a tiny bit more of a taco seasoning flavor than the original version. No acidity to counteract the rich flavors or beef, and no vegetal aspects to speak of. I thought this was an interesting concept as I’ve seen many an episode of ‘Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives’ focusing on Guy’s gaping maw and cheeseburger soup in cute diners, and from what I understand, it’s balanced with all of the flavors in a burger in soup form. That was what I expected here, and the polar opposite of what I received. We threw pickles into the soup until we got bored, and then we got real cheeseburgers instead. 

Sandwich Saturday

It’s kind of a slow week due to moving and preparing for it- all of my food is mainly packed away, and UPS and FedEx don’t deliver on weekends! I got a little carried away with packing, so I thought I’d give you a peek at some of the sandwiches I’ve been making for the Bedfellow and have eaten myself.

I’ve had to get a little crafty lately, as I wonder if I’m developing a slight intolerance to gluten. When I eat more than a slice or two or more than half a small roll, I end up getting very fatigued and feel depressed until my body digests it. It’s something to look into, so I’ve been trying to be careful lately and stick with more proteins and grains. But this sandwich was certainly the masterpiece, especially as of late- lavender cheese from Rogue Creamery atop sauteed chicken with honey, lime pods, and smoked sea salt.

I also bought a bit of ground beef- not my usual fare, but since I was craving a burger atop little Martin’s-esque rolls, went for it along with some American cheese.

This one was made using the slider method from Serious Eats, steamed atop sweating, grilled onions with pickles on the bottom and American cheese on top. Ridiculously messy but ultimately really tasty. More laborious than grilled burgers and not necessarily tastier in comparison, but still fun to try. The one above was done on a hot pan, and my apartment smelled like burgers for hours. Worth it!

Sometimes when I run low on groceries, I have to get creative. Luckily, I have a lady who is a whiz at making guacamole, and with a little roasted red pepper goat cheese and salsa, this was a no brainer. The best part was how grilled the guac got when it spilled out of the sandwich.

This last selection wasn’t really a sandwich at all, but was a dip that we ate with chips and little pieces of bread- so, a deconstructed sandwich. Barbecue chicken dip, but instead of using cream cheese and dressing like many recipes call for, I switched it up and used labne, a yogurt from Karoun Farms.

Luna Fiber Bars Peanut Butter and Strawberry

Amidst all the hustle and bustle of moving, I found one of my old journals tucked into a stack of old cookbooks while getting my stuff together. It’s from 2008, and unsurprisingly, contains a ridiculous amount of food descriptions, drawings, and grocery lists. There are sandwiches with French fries stuffed in the middle. Recipes involving multiple baked goods in one item. One list just says, ‘Cheetos (4)’ and I’ve been scratching my head trying to figure out what the hell that means. Did I really intend to get four bags of Cheetos? Or four different kinds of Cheetos at the same time?

If I’ve made any positive changes since then, it’s certainly been better eating habits. Having foregone the temptations of the dining hall early on, cooking for myself has challenged me creatively and nutritionally. I haven’t completely reached my goal of totally healthy, clean eating just yet, but I feel like I’m well on my way to doing so. The latest addition of a microwave in my life has made things infinitesimally easier. Strangely enough, it’s been about a year since I’ve had a microwave, and I’m still timing things in 45 minute or 2 hour increments based on what I can make in the oven. So sometimes, I don’t cook and just grab a quick, healthy snack.

With all my errands today, that snack was a few Luna Fiber bars. The internet sent them over, and just when I needed them, there they were, along with ground coffee, cognac, and instant cake from today’s UPS shipment. They come in three flavors—strawberry and peanut butter, raspberry chocolate, and blueberry vanilla. Because I had errands today and wasn’t able to eat breakfast, I ate all three within the course of the day so I could stay full and do what I needed to get done. I thought the PB and strawberry was the more exciting of the flavors, and coincidentally, it was also my favorite. The texture is fantastic, like a soft peanut butter cookie or a homemade Fig Newton. It’s a really well-made bar, with a yielding, chewy outside topped with sugar and a jelly filling. However, it is really tiny- like, eaten in three bites tiny. It would be perfect were it not for the cloying, overly sweet protein flavor. Much better than regular Luna bars, filling without feeling too healthy, but still has a ways to go. I think it’s still the best dessert-like protein bar, but falls short of Fiber One in terms of indulgence.

Sample Disclosure
I received this for free, it came in a cute box, and I wasn’t influenced by the free-ness of the stuff, but was really happy to eat it for breakfast as prior to said bar acquisition, I was replete with merely cake flour, old sausages, and booze. Luna, thank you for not driving me into obesity and a sad, dark life.

Dunkin’ Donuts Cuban Sandwich

Fortuitous circumstances have put me in possession of a vintage Eames chair, so now I can sit alone in the dark and watch Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind in style. My part-time employment as an anime wrangler was fleeting, and I’ve taken up tutoring to supplement my lavish lifestyle. Of course, this leaves me with free days, so I’ve been thrill-seeking and friend-searching on the side to see what adventures I can get myself into.

Well, friend-seeking hasn’t been going so well. I never realized how difficult it was to be friendzoned when you actually wanted it. It’s hard to be in limbo – I’m moving from one city to another, so there aren’t many preemptive measures I can take. And humans, by nature, are frustrating, especially in this area. Apparently, there isn’t a preferred gender pronoun for people who don’t know how email works. Although I did have one extremely successful friend date, successful in part due to equal parts of good conversation and vanilla milkshake! So, thrill-seeking is the next measure. I considered taking a vacation to Florida until I remembered that I was a student. Thankfully, Dunkin’ Donuts has brought all the crushing disappointment of a real vacation to their restaurants up here, with the glamorous Miami and politically-correct Amherst-exclusive Cuban Sandwich.

The new-ban Cuban features roast pork, ham, Swiss cheese, and a Dijon pickle spread on a French roll. A tall order, especially on the pork front. This isn’t the first time Dunkin’ has tried their hand at a Cuban, following the dismal failure of the Cuban flatbread, with all the fun of a Cuban sandwich without any of the components that designate it as such. This time, they appear to be going pretty straightedge. The sandwich is tall, though in part, that is due tothe French roll, perennially fluffy.
Surprisingly, all of the ingredients looked pretty legit. There was a fairly large slice of tender pork, which, despite having doubtfully been really roasted, had a bold, savory flavor unto its own. The ham and swiss looked plentiful and appetizing, despite glistening with sweat. I mean, come on, Swiss, what is this, junior prom? And the pickle and Dijon spread tasted just like Big Mac sauce. Which is honestly pretty great. The sandwich is bland, though, due to uneven distribution of the sauce, whose acidic, brighter flavors really mitigate the basic saltiness of the meat. Only the middle bite, the exact epicenter of the sandwich, carried any acidity or semblance to pickle slices in a real Cuban.
And to be honest, that bite, had it not been lukewarm, was great. The flavors are more distinct with that little hint of brightness. Without it, it ends up tasting like a generic mixed meat sandwich. Just like Florida. And I didn’t even have to get sunburnt or sit next to a crying baby on an airplane.

The Nosh Show: Episode 8

This week, I broke up the sausagefest on the Nosh Show as a special guest! Listen as I yap about the Fancy Food Show with Junk Food Guy, ignore the scary noises of incoming freshmen crowding the free internet area of the campus center, and ponder the merits of pancakes that taste like doughnuts.

It’s my first podcast, so no comments on: my jarringly monotone voice, my svelte girlish features, or my complete and utter lack of profanity. Balls!