Fresser

Yes, I know I'm hanging out in the girls' treehouse, but I just gotta ask: how do diabetic women tame this "sugar beast?" Ferocious as this sugar beast may be, it's far less dangerous than the ketoacidosis beast.

There's a REAL pun lurking there, Genny. But given your sublime taste in topping your lox 'n cream cheese with red onion and capers, I think a dispensation is in order. Now if you really want to be a devout bagel-eater, try putting the fixin's on a GARLIC bagel!

Whaddabout da' carbohydrates, Curlz? You need an Eyetalian Beef samwich dipped with sweet peppers. Dat has salt, garlic, fat and protein. What else could a lady want?

A soda pop billboard above the local highway read: Sprite: More refreshing than a breeze up your shorts.

Roasted heads of garlic always put me in the mood.

Now there's a snack fit for a pagan.

Will I have to wait until next Yom Kippur to atone for this? My boss had brought in lox, bagels and cream cheese and invited me to have a nosh. (As if an invitation were even necessary). My phone was ringing off the hook, so by the time I could I hit the snack station, all the garlic & onion bagels had been consumed. All that was left was a...[Primal shriek!!]blueberry bagel![/shriek] I winced as I spread the plain Philly cream cheese on the blueberry bagel! and topped it with lox. Pulling my cloak up to hide my identity, I retreated to my desk to eat my experiment. The sweet-'n-salty taste wasn't exactly on par with chocolate-covered pretzels, but lox on a bagel still is hard to beat. If only I can get over the shame...

Hitchcock was the first name that came to my mind as well.

Nu, so you don't vant that the Danishes should go to waste?? Think of your zayde in Minsk--he never even TASTED a Danish!

On the last day of my vacation this week, my friendly boss called and asked if perhaps I could come in and work a weekend day for overtime. It seemed like an "(O)ffer I could not refuse," so I pulled on a pair o' jeans and moseyed into the office. All was not lost, however, as our sales manager trotted in a typical Jewish brunch, complete with bagels, cream cheese, smokefish, sable, trout and sliced tomatoes. After I cartwheeled about the office, I promptly sliced open a bagel, schmeered it with cream cheese and plopped some trout on a plate before retreating to my computer. Shortly after this, the owners all trotted in and filled their plates with bagels and sable or trout before retiring to the conference room. Now the company where I work is heavily Jewish (hence the brunch), and a friendly co-worker occasionally asks me, "Fresser, is So-and-so Jewish?" In the case of our CIO, I wasn't sure, so I observed said CIO as he approached the brunch table. He passed on the bagels & fish and immediately hacked into a peach danish. "Eureka!" I shouted to myself--here's my answer! All the Jewish folks head straight for the bagels, while the non-M.O.T.'s dig into the danish. It all sounds so Seinfeldian. Am I onto something here, Blovie?

This is true, as shellfish are trayf, or non-kosher. For a fish to be kosher, it has to have fins and scales. Or, in my vernacular, it has to LOOK like a fish.

Maggie, No one can write on matters digestive better than you. My fanny furnace musings pale in comparison. Factor in your ticket-worthy gams and you're the Sister Satire of eGullet. You go, Girl!!!

Because we're Fressers! Well, at least I am.

As a Connecticut Yankee in King Varmint's Court, it is my purview to wax whimsical on Southern cuisine. Now put down that shotgun, Honey--grits taste mighty fine topped with sauteed broccoli. And when offered mullet, I'll certainly try the fish as long as I don't have to wear the haircut. My perspective may amuse or baffle you, but my attitude is: when I travel to a different part o' the world, I eat what they eat. And then I write about it. Southerners can have an equally curious perspective on Yankee swill--ah, food--upon first encounter. Intrepid oenophiles Bartles & Jaymes once mused that "(B)artles & Jaymes wine coolers go well with most any foods, even these big donuts y'all like to eat here in New York [bartles then held aloft a bagel]. Personally, I always welcome novices into my kitchen and cuisine. Let them consume and expound upon my cooking at will.

Fresser from the Heartland here... I too learned of Canadian doughnuts from that intrepid duo of Doug and Bob Mackenzie. Coo-roo-coo-coo, coo-roo-coo-coo! It would be nice to see a Tim Horton's sprout here in the Midwest and root out these Krisky Kreme sugar-bomb factories.

I ate at the original Billy Goat on Lower Michigan Avenue. As I perched on a barstool, I watched a grill cook split a Polish sausage in half, grill it and then serve it on a hamburger bun. Now THAT was ambience.

← This technique is known (somehow apropos) as a red herring.

Has anyone ever tried Stilton on rye for a grilled cheese? This would be boffo.

Why not whip up a homemade bean burrito? It works for me.

Mark me down as #3. I always wander into the kitchen to help clean up after the party. A guest that helps clean up is a guest that gets invited back.

I think that this is simple yet very true. You know that, by the end, things will be as they should be. This experience is different than, say, my attempts to make bread. ← So. Busboy. Chris. Fresser. Whoever you are that does this. You are One in a Million. Can you teach the others? Please. This notion of "things as they should be" is absolutely brilliant and loveable. And so is the notion that a man can do it too. ← People have told me that I should open up a cleaning business. Maybe they're right. I can't stand leaving a dirty kitchen--especially when attending a party. A guest that helps clean up is a guest that gets invited back. Plus I enjoy cooking and creating the mess in the first place. Nothing is as relaxing as hacking up veggies to whip up spaghetti sauce, chili or my famous veggie lasagna. So why am I still single???

You'd really have to be a farblondjet fresser to pay $70.00 per person for food like this. As we say here in the twangy Midwest: Some people have more money than brains.

In this same vein, I'm fond of cleaning up the stove. Lifting up my range lid one day, I found a veritable cornucopia of crumbs, burnt macaroni and year-old peas 'n carrots. Scooping out the detritus and polishing the interior made my kitchen smell better AND gave me a boost. Something about cleaning enables us to see the fruits of our labour. I think this is what makes the otherwise mundane task worthwhile.

"Good Evening. My name is Rod Serling, and I will be your waiter tonight." Nite 'N Gale truly is the restaurant that time forgot. I tumbled in there once about five years ago and was immediately struck by the avocado-green decor. Very 1960's chic. This may shock you Ronnie, but I cannot remember what I ate there.

Rabbi Ribeye, meet Father Tenderloin Father Tenderloin: Shalom, my circumcised brother! How about a mosh? Rabbi Ribeye: Thanks, Father, but I'm kind of old for reckless dances. Father Tenderloin: Dances? I just thought you'd like a snack after your long trip. Rabbi Ribeye: Oh...you mean a nosh! Sure, I could use a hush puppy.