Fresser

Bubble Yum bubble-gum was all the rage when I was nine years old. Then someone started the rumor that one of the ingredients in Bubble Yum was spider eggs.

LOL! Well, volunteers are certainly welcome. If folks (especially those in the Chicago area) are interested in helping out with some of the 'taskery,' please just shoot me a pm. ← Ronnie tells me that he needs help with host & hostessing roles. Since the ladies are clamoring for Heather Duster to make an appearance, which ladies be willing to don a tux and join me as Butler and French Maid Greeters for the Heartland party? I promise not to scare the kids in attendance. Well, at least not intentionally...

This takes me back to Mr. Horler's freshman biology class. That's where he taught that we can only detect four distinct tastes: sweet, salty, sour & bitter. One region of the tongue detects sweet, another salty, et cetera. The rest of our sense of taste is due to the olfactory glands in the nose. That's why a cold or other sinus condition mutes our taste buds. How antihistamines may accentuate the condition, I do not know.

The innuendo in the remainder of the article seems to be that everyone on eGullet or anyone who is a food enthusiast and/or has a food blog is a glutton, obsessed and unhealthy... I have no doubt that obesity is a nationwide issue. But I don't come here looking for a resolution to that problem, and I resent the assumption that because I live to eat, not the other way around, that I'm a glutton or unhealthy. Maybe I'm just overly sensitive. ← You're not too sensitive, Darcie--you're just perceptive. It's hilarious how horn-blowing media outlets like the NYT like to polarize eGullet members: on one side we have the Carrot-Nibbling Extremists and on the other are the Fat-Infused, Caloric Hedonists. Fat Guy's screen name notwithstanding, to imply that eGullet glorfies gluttony is pernicous and wrong. I've written at length about how diabetes has changed my diet (and my taste buds), and Chris Amirault has cited the many "healthy eating" threads. I've even written two myself: Hypoglycemia and Food details my travails with low-blood sugars and how I remedy the condition with the proper food. Avoiding the Bonk ties in cycling and nutrition, as I bicycle to control blood-sugars and stay healthy. But to eat in moderation and then burn off the calories just doesn't titillate the way stories about orgiastic eating do. We now return you to our regularly scheduled diatribe.

You forgot the Great French Fry Phantom as immortalized on "Welcome Back, Kotter."

Is that how deep-fried bacon was invented?

You should have taken him to the Boneless Chicken Farm Restaurant.

Don't forget to sign up the Fress Man for the Saturday event, Ronnie!

I once cooked dinner for 30 in my Hasidic rabbi's kitchen. Three generations of the Tribe lived in the house, so three generations of eager eaters were present. While this family held pretty strictly to traditional gender roles, i.e., women cook and men eat, the rabbi's young daughters and his wife seemed to enjoy watching a guy cook. The fact that I sauteed with copious amounts of garlic probably didn't hurt. The rabbi's grandmother, however, seemed a little miffed that someone from the other side of the mechitza was working her stove. I asked a female friend about the grandmother's sideways looks and she laughed, "The kitchen? It's the grandmother's domain."

I've had the honor of whipping up Pepper Chicken in Maggie the Cat's kitchen for one of the Heartland's whirlwind dinners. Maggie's right: to cook for and thus nourish someone is the essence of selfless affection.

Many times I've cleaned out a date's stove or fridge after dinner just to be a good houseguest. I always say: The guest that helps clean up is the guest that gets invited back. Is this type of "housekeeping" branded as feminine? Perhaps it was in the past, but big deal. And at my job, I'm known for taking a break from the computer to clear out the hazmat site known as the office fridge. It's relaxing.

Cooking is an essential part of my courtship ritual. (Is this why I'm still single? ) I once dated a lovely redhead who had two munchkins at home. When I offered to whip up dinner for everyone, she exclaimed, "A man who COOKS!" Years later, I whipped up a savory, family-size pot roast that my date could share with her father and extended family. Most women would be thrilled to have a guy cook something tasty for them, I think.

As a business owner, would you consider adding a surcharge to your prices? For example, "You will find a 5% surcharge on your receipt to help us provide our employees with health insurance." If not, why not? ← Starbucks provides health insurance for employees who work over 20 hours a week. Clearly the premium prices Starbucks charges for its coffees help subsidize these benefits. But Starbucks CEO Howard Schultz has noted that the Company spends more on health insurance than on "raw materials" to make coffee and that its current benefits policy is untenable.

Prasantrin has encouraged my alter-ego Heather Duster to make a cameo appearance at the Heartland Gathering, perhaps as hostess and official airport greeter. Not wanting to upstage anyone (or make the other women guests jealous), I thought I'd field opinions from Moosnsqrl, hjshorter and the rest of the guest list. Should we have an impromptu Ladies Who Lunch gathering or evening outing?

Successful as the Filet-o-Fish has become, it was not Ray Kroc's first choice for a Lenten menu. That honour belongs to the Hula Burger, which consisted of a pineapple slice on a bun. Great for vegetarians, sure, but during the subsequent McDonald's bake-off, the Filet-o-Fish outsold the Hula Burger by a multiple of about five-to-one. I haven't seen pineapple on the McDonald's menu since.

We. Want. Snakey Boy!

Rachel the Ravishing Raconteur describes rat-trap cheese thusly: What an eloquent, elegant woman, our Rachel D!

eGullet poet laureate RachelD describes rat-trap cheese in a way that only a queenly Southern belle could. Since I was born north of the Mason-Dixon line, the closest I could fathom to rat-trap cheese would be that ubiquitous, gelatinous substance known as Velveeta. But now I'm curious as all git-out. Is rat-trap cheese good for noshing? Can you make an omelette with it? And if I ask for rat-trap cheese in a Yankee gourmet shop, will the staff hand me Velveeta and a can of Raid?

What about this rat-trap cheese that I've heard so much about?

I love romping with the eGullet munchkins--Ronnie's son Lucas liked to tackle me at will when we partied in Highland Park. A large supply of whoopee cushions should keep the little ones (and me!) occupied.

I was thinking the SAME thing, Fabby!

You're probably just averse to cupric sulfate. The sulfur in garlic reacts with acid to produce this attractive (if unappetizing) shade of blue.

Little kids waddle about my local shopping mall, clutching their azure-topped ice cream cones. Their ice cream is BLUE!!! "No accounting for young tastes," I used to think. I haven't yet seen an adult eating a Superman cone. Now I know the kids' secret. Many moons ago, I toiled at this same mall's ice cream shop, scooping cones and mixing milkshakes for the sweet-seekers that tumbled by. Sometimes I could peg customers to their favorite flavors--"There's the Strawberry Cheesecake lady" or "Here's a Fudge Ripple guy"--but anytime a kid under 10 came into the store, he or she would point to the blue tub of ice cream with the yellow and orange swirls and blurt, "I want SUPERMAN!!" That was the blue ice cream's name. "But what's in it?" the child's parent would ask. "Actually, it's just vanilla with blue, yellow and orange food coloring," I'd reply, flexing my Popeye-sized forearms to scoop up the child's savory blue mound. To me, Superman resembled not so much a confection as sundry tubs of Play-Doh mixed up and frozen. And both ice cream and Play-Doh come in cylindrical containers... But the kiddies didn't mind--they always squealed "Superman!" upon entering the store. This happened seventeen years ago. And to prove this choice was no coincidence, just yesterday a saw a clutch of little kiddies at the mall yesterday eating--yes, Superman ice cream! Vanilla with blue, orange and yellow colors. I always thought they ate with their eyes, as Gordon Ramsay might say. They picked the color and not the taste. But the ever-insightful Carlin explained it: "We want the blue food! Probably it stores immortality! They're keeping it from us!" Kids are so smart with computers and NOW they've figured out the secret to eternal youth! Blue food! Superman-flavor! So listen up, alter-kockers and youth-seekers: skip the Raisin-Bran and run down to the ice cream shop for two scoops of Superman. If the local rugrats haven't eaten it all yet.

Oh, my. Please tell me these treats were made with oatmeal flour and Splenda. That way I could partake of them without risking an glucose-induced ambulance ride.

What a savory group of protein-and-veggie shots, Rachel! You are the epitome of the gracious Southern hostess. Speaking of which, where are the pictures of you and yours? Just sit one of those frilly hats on your purty lil' head and smile for the camera!