Confession: I am not over pumpkin spice. I know, it’s February. I should be expounding upon the next flavor of the month, like whatever post-prandial sugary delight we’re supposed to foist upon President’s Day. Hamilton Herbs de Provence? The abhorrent mint-infused flash in the pan come St. Paddy’s Day? Fuck no, give me red velvet and give me pumpkin spice or give me death. That’s all I want. Winter is a dearth of seasonal flavors; starting with peppermint and rum raisin and ending with the lukewarm return to all things watermelon at the start of April.
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Tag: 8
CTD Sports Isolicious: Fruity Cereal Crunch and Cinnamon Cereal Crunch
This review is generously brought to you by general anesthetic: making drinks pinker since this morning, after I had surgery, and rendering my words a little dumber each time. Foodette Reviews is filmed before a live studio audience, in bed.
Good news, it turns out they have WordPress in hell. Or do they? Not wishing to make you suffer through a multi-part, existential series in which you question my reality, mortality, and the overall being of man, I’ll let you in on a secret. My surgery was successful, I will live to lift another day. When that day will come is TBD, and until then, I’m living on my mattress, drinking cold-pressed juice and bespoke protein shakes like a motherfucker. True Life: I am very much an adult now. Cereal milk protein is my white whale, because on principle, I just don’t eat a lot of cereal any more. I take too much protein to chow down on cereal but it’s absolutely delicious and I could mainline it straight into my face.
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Cadbury’s Marvellous Creations Jelly Popping Candy Chocolate
I’m putting off a difficult task and it’s getting in the way of the generally hilarious tomfoolery on this sinking ship of a semi-never-famous empire that I created back in high school when love was merely a hilarious anagram for evol and all my shirts were from woot.com. It isn’t the blog- that’s collateral damage in the larger scheme of pulling the trigger on the Rube Goldbergian stage of bureaucratic events that enable me to not go to France next year to study and cavort and live minimalistically while still maintaining a sense of style, escapism, happiness, and jeunesse that I struggle to find in Hartford. That would have made such a great novel. That novel would have pushed Eat, Pray, Love to the curb.
I would have had the best author photo. Or at least the best byline on my article at The Toast.
Yes, quite the problem to have, it’s funny in a stupid, hyperspecific way, like being catfished by a stock photo, but I still haven’t quite reached the point where I’m comfortable typing those words or pressing the button that pushes me another turn around the carousel before I have to hop off and enter the real world and get a job. In this world, the carousel is also not limited to children, keep that in mind, so I’m definitely not imaginary trespassing in this imaginary theme park allegory that I have created.
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Chaos and Pain Cannibal Permaswole
What’s for breakfast? PERMASWOOOOLLLLEEEE.
What’s for lunch? PEEEEEEEEEEEERMASWOOOLLLLEEE.
What’s for dinner? Please, please don’t hit me. It’s Permaswole, okay? It’s a supplement from Chaos & Pain that tastes like Pixy Stix and makes you feel like the Hulk. Guaranteed to annoy girlfriends and distress mothers everywhere when you proclaim that you are the masc with the vasc. C&P sent over Green Apple Hulk, so before we get to the meat of the review, let’s go over the ingredients. To give you perspective, I do a light PHAT/HIIT style workout with a trainer with an intensive, hour-long focus on core and strength exercises. Surprisingly, there aren’t many reviews of this and what reviews are out there basically equate this to crack cocaine for your muscles. It’s awesome, but crack cocaine is going too far. That’s a better descriptor for Ferox, which we’ll get to in a week or so. Quite simply, though, Permaswole is diligent as both a battle cry and an amino acid boost for the family guns. Continue reading “Chaos and Pain Cannibal Permaswole”
Hormel Kid’s Kitchen Cookie Dough Pudding
What, Hormel, no bacon? Come on, get with the trends. Even the children who will be stumbling through this pudding recipe know that bacon was hella trendy during their fourth grade heyday of gold stars and homework passes. Regardless, Hormel has inexplicably decided to branch out into the pudding game, with flavors including bubblegum, cotton candy, birthday cake, and the most texturally incongruent of them all, cookie dough.
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Core Brewing Behemoth Pilsner
This is easily the most American 4th of July I’ve ever experienced. Granted, the bar has been set rather low. Last year, the Bedfellow and I went swimming and couldn’t find food and decided we’d rather die than go to Applebee’s. The year before that, I made a brisket, ate gross Italian ice, and read obituaries alone in the house. Needless to say, despite my love for the 4th, I’ve never really celebrated it very well.
This year is different. This year includes a rodeo, barbecue, and fries pies, but that’s not all. Continue reading “Core Brewing Behemoth Pilsner”
My Brother’s Salsa Peach Tomatillo
Midway through the fifth season, I found a sick bird fluttering on the ground while I was walking to and from the center of town. It looked alert and fine and none of its wings appeared to be broken, but it couldn’t keep its head up. I sidestepped around it and then I came back. I carried it in my hands for an hour and dripped water into its beak from a water fountain until I found a styrofoam cup and kleenex from a sports memorabilia store and brought it home with me.
Uncle Al’s Stage Planks
Moving down here, or to any new city, is akin to starting a popular television series midway through the fifth season. People have a frame of reference, a casual one, that pops up in their interactions and mannerisms and are typically surprised when you don’t catch on. Or when they find out that you don’t have a TV. That’s where things get weird.
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Ken and Cook, New York, NY
Rule of thumb- if they’re playing classic rock, it’s going to be good. If they’re playing a curated selection of late Blondie, T-Rex, and Depeche Mode, it’s going to be freaking awesome. Austen and I took an evening to relax and slurp oysters at the new, fabulous Ken and Cook, a downright delightful raw bar and restaurant in Solita. The restaurant, less than a year old, features a hefty seafood selection, curated cocktails, and larger plates that are not to be passed up.
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1000 Faces Suke Quto Coffee
I’m experiencing a strange, Twilight Zone-like state of mind where I want strange, unattainable things, like a job and the ability to self-motivate before 9AM. Oh, look at that. Sorry, before 12PM. This eating-writing-renovating-binge-Community-watching habit is very, very fun, but I’m just about ready to get back to my daily schedule of heavy textbook lifting. This semester’s winner is the 2013-2014 Federal Income Tax Codes and Regulations, clocking in at 15.2 lbs, or a total of $2,500 in non-deductible therapeutic massages over the course of three months. Wow!
Instead of working, or working out, or working in, or twerking, I’m applying to fellowships in sunny, snow-free places, and eating frozen Indian food in bed. Is break over yet? Thankfully, my house does have a new amenity that has been a blast to play with over break- a new coffee station! I’m in the midst of doing a basic, but life-saving kitchen renovation, the kind that doesn’t violate the lease but still allows me to remain sane without benzodiazepines. One of the aspects of this renovation involves a heightened focus on coffee, under the hopeful guise of being able to retain a semblance of consciousness during my 8AM moot court class. The Bedfellow contributed a grinder, and I went on the hunt for some killer coffee beans. One of the brands I found was 1000 Faces, and they sent over a few bags of beans for our groggy perusal.
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