bergerka

Maggie's poetry, descriptive, food-laden, it makes my mouth water. K (time for lunch!)

Oh? Mandatory as in "the employer pays for it?" Or perhaps they could lobby for AFFORDABLE health insurance for those who don't make a lot of money, how about that? This is a sore point with me, as I cannot, in fact, afford health insurance, yet I make too much money to qualify for Medicaid. I now return you to your regularly scheduled topic (and don't ask me what I think about smoking while you sit next to me, because I'll tell you, and it won't be pretty. "Fire hose" is the mildest way to put it). K

Hey Varmint--my favorite bbq place in NC (or anywhere else, in fact my favorite bbq place EVER), the Hawg Wild outside Brevard, burned down in summer 2001...you don't happen to know if it's been rebuilt, do you? I have never had pulled pork like that. K, trying not to think about the bears on the deck.

Oh yum, that sounds delicious. Garlic bagel with cream cheese and some plain M&M's....lunch of champions. K

Oh-- I remembered another one, just about a month ago, that qualifies. I was performing at a summer theater in upstate New York, just got back a couple of weeks ago. They had a cook--really, a lovely woman, worked her butt off for us and generally provided edible cafeteria-type food (sometimes it was even good. Her lasagna was delicious in that kind of generic American-food way), but there was one meal--well, let's just say that it's famous with anyone who has been to this festival. It was known affectionately (?) among the participants as "block o'fish," and that's just what it was. Unidentifiable white-type fish, obviously pre-frozen, fried or baked or something with some kind of bread-crumbesque topping that came ON THE FISH... Verily, a horror that defies my efforts at description. I'm not much for fish anyway, unless it's really fresh, and after the first experience even the smell of this stuff made me sick. We took to asking the cook right after lunch what she had planned for dinner, and if "fish" was the response, the cafeteria was practically deserted by the time the dinner bell rang. *shudder* Food should not be shaped like a block. That is just wrong. K

re Katherine's latest post Oh. My. God. I was going to post something clever about the worst meal I ever ate (have to be the horrible prepackaged chicken nuggets that my first college apartment roomie proudly presented as an example of his stellar culinary skills. Deep fried--they were black on the outside and FROZEN on the inside), but nothing...NOTHING could possibly compare to this. I think this post should be declared a work of art and preserved forever. K

Brie, honey mustard and granny smith apple on a baguette. And diet root beer. Mmmm. Diet root beer. K

trade you the iced coffee for that pie. Pie. Pie pie pie pie pie pie pie. Maybe I'll have pie for lunch. K

Well, I'm actually DRINKING iced coffee, but I'm considering going to find a nice bagel as a means of procrastination (my boss just gave me a huge annoying project). K

Yeah, I think debauchery is the word for it. Honestly, ever since it opened, I could happily go to Pampa about once a week and just fulfill all my meat cravings in one fell swoop (not to mention the dulce de leche...mmmmmmmmmmmmmmJ). K, still all garlicky. And that's a good thing.

Why on earth would I want to do that? You expect me to face the day SOBER? Sadist. K

The sopa alentejana that Eric Malson made at our house last weekend. I have to admit, as I watched him make it (through my boozy haze), I thought "this will never work"--now I'm craving it. I mean, CRAVING. K

Apple pectin is apparently also very good for the throat, although that may be just superstition as well. I like it. K

Damn you, damn you and your blood sausage. Now I have to make a trip to Pampa, if only to stop my mouth from watering. K

I suppose I just dated myself. A chocodile is essentially a chocolate-covered twinkie. They're made by Hostess--tend to be a bit bigger than twinkies, and only come one to a package, but the principle is the same. Golden sponge cake, probably carcinogenic cream filling, dipped in chocolate. And none of it exists in nature, with the possible exception of the chocolate. K

You can send it to me, for one thing. I like to use it in potato salad (and we're overdue for some, this is summer, after all) with nice red potatoes, and then there's this cucumber/yogurt/dill salad dressing I had at some restaurant somewhere some time ago that I've been dying to try to copy. Y'all here at Egullet are inspiring me to actually learn to cook. We had a little impromptu dinner party with Eric Malson last night...here is what happens when Sam and Eric have unfettered access to the kitchen: Cocktails (the "dude," our house drink, which involves vodka, campari and limoncello, followed by a drink composed of Hennessy, Vya sweet vermouth and orange bitters--basically a Hennessy Manhattan, I guess?) Sopa alentejana (oh my lord, this was unbelievably delicious...basically a soup of stale bread, sliced garlic, salt, chopped cilantro, lots o' EVOO, a poached egg and hot water) Arroz de coelho à Minhota (rice cooked in stock with chorizo and braised bunny wabbit. Yum!) We had bread with two good cheeses for dessert, a Cabrales (I FINALLY get Cabrales!) and a soft Portuguese one--can't remember the name, I was absolutely piefaced by this time, as we'd downed two bottles of wine in addition to the pre-dinner cocktails. MMMMMMMMMMM. K

We had pancakes (with, of course, maple syrup and some lovely homemade blueberry jam from Sam's mom) and cappuccino about 1:30 pm. The ONLY time to have breakfast on Sundays! K

Does it make me a bad person if I think that fried cheesecake sounds abso-freakin-lutely delicious? I'm going to have food dreams all night...fried cheesecake...fried twinkies...better yet, fried chocodiles! I think Applebee's serves fried cheesecake. It's one of my dad's favorite post-performance (he's a doctor who acts in his spare time, or an actor who doctors in his spare time, whichever) hangouts (also one of the only places in West Phoenix open after 11 pm on a weeknight), so next time I go visit I'll join him and try some. K Edited to correct stupid spelling error. D'OH!

A chocolate frosted donut and iced coffee. I was led into temptation by a co-worker. This is all his fault. K

Aw, all I have to do for THAT is walk down the street with him. They fall to the ground weeping and clutching at his legs. We have to beat 'em off with clubs. K

I'd just like to add to this that the girl he's mostly impressing these days is me. Any other girls he's trying to impress are largely fig newtons of his imagination. Naturally, congrats, Sam! And no, I won't start referring to you as "the boss of me." K

A mini Reese's peanut butter cup that I swiped from HR. Tonight I suspect I'll be eating chicken of some stripe. K

you've been to both? or is this just speculation. I've been to strip clubs. Never been to Hooters, and feel really weird about even going in. Ehh. While I've never been to a strip club, I have a relative who has worked at one (just say no and don't ask), and I HAVE been to Hooters on several occasions, because I used to work as a waitress at a Chi-chi's (the horror! and YES, I KNOW that Chi-chi's is crude colloquial Mex Spanish for "hooters") in Overland Park, Kansas, and Hooters, across the street, was the only place open for a drink after a long Saturday night shift. They used to comp us wings because we tipped well. As a woman, and quite apart from the mediocre wings and fairly decent (for KC) frozen orange margaritas, I am far more comfortable going inside a Hooters than I would be going to a strip club, and I really don't give that much of a damn about strip clubs. The relative who worked there had one boss who hit on everyone, was subsequently fired and replaced by a very businesslike guy, she got in fantastic shape from the dancing, but it wasn't a healthy place for her to work from the standpoint of her self-esteem and I'm very glad she quit. Hooters just feels like a different animal to me--we'd sit around and talk biz with the waitrons when things cleared out and they were always pretty happy with their situations job-wise--they knew they were hired for their looks, but as someone else mentioned further back, Hooters trained them well for future waitron jobs and the "sex sells" aspect meant big, er, tips. K, who probably would have worked there herself had she the necessary physique.

It isn't? *pondering* *retracting letter to Betty Bowers alerting her to the CF/Devil connection* Damn, I wish you'd told me earlier. K

Another @#%#&^%@! cinnamon donut. This is a conspiracy, I know it. K