15 posts tagged “food”
How the Omnivore's 100 Works:
1) Copy this list into your blog or journal, including these instructions.
2) Bold all the items you’ve eaten.
3) Cross out any items that you would never consider eating.
4) Optional: Post a comment at Very Good Taste, linking to your results.
My Omnivore’s Hundred:
1. Venison – [And watched it get cleaned and cut up by a roadside vendor…]
2. Nettle tea
3. Huevos rancheros – [I didn’t work at a Mexican restaurant fer nuthin’.]
4. Steak tartare
5. Crocodile – [Mmm, sketchy soup in rundown shack restaurant!]
6. Black pudding – [Not for lacking for trying.]
7. Cheese fondue
8. Carp
9. Borscht
10. Baba ghanoush
11. Calamari
12. Pho – [Has anyone else ever ODed on the stuff?]
13. PB&J sandwich
14. Aloo gobi
15. Hot dog from a street cart
16. Epoisses – [I love cheese, but it doesn’t love me.]
17. Black truffle
18. Fruit wine made from something other than grapes – [Bonus: moonshine!]
19. Steamed pork buns – [I would argue that steamed chicken buns are as good if not better.]
20. Pistachio ice cream
21. Heirloom tomatoes
22. Fresh wild berries
23. Foie gras
24. Rice and beans
25. Brawn or head cheese – [I was eating the stuff for years before I ever knew what it was. Uncool.]
26. Raw Scotch Bonnet pepper – [I’ll try it one day…perhaps when I’m ready to never eat again.]
27. Dulce de leche
28. Oysters – [Contemplating it for dinner, actually…]
29. Baklava
30. Bagna cauda
31. Wasabi peas
32. Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl – [Faneuil Hall, I love you.]
33. Salted lassi – [I prefer sweet.]
34. Sauerkraut
35. Root beer float
36. Cognac with a fat cigar – [I prefer whisky.]
37. Clotted Cream Tea
38. Vodka Jelly/Jell-O – [Bonus: Everclear!]
39. Gumbo
40. Oxtail
41. Curried goat – [Sampled, not actually a full meal of it.]
42. Whole insects – [Accidental and on purpose!]
43. Phaal
44. Goat's milk – [Only as cheese and ice cream. Does that count?]
45. Malt whisky from a bottle worth $120 or more
46. Fugu
47. Chicken tikka masala
48. Eel
49. Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut
50. Sea urchin – [All time fave nigiri.]
51. Prickly pear
52. Umeboshi
53. Abalone
54. Paneer
55. McDonald’s Big Mac Meal
56. Spaetzle
57. Dirty gin martini
58. Beer above 8% ABV – [But my preference usually runs around 4-5% ABV.]
59. Poutine – [One day, precious heart attack courting food. One day.]
60. Carob chips – [Never again. It’s not an acceptable substitute for chocolate!]
61. S’mores
62. Sweetbreads
63. kaolin
64. Currywurst
65. Durian – [Responsible for one of all-time fave desserts. Durian custard over sweet sticky rice. Mmmm.]
66. Frogs’ legs
67. Beignets, churros, elephant ears or funnel cake
68. Haggis
69. Fried plantain
70. Chitterlings or andouillette
71. Gazpacho
72. Caviar and blini
73. Louche absinthe – [Also had without dilution. Oh my god, (maybe) never again.]
74. Gjetost or brunost
75. Roadkill – [Iffy, because this could go back to the venison in item one. I didn’t kill it off the side of the road, but that dude totally did, even if it was with a bow and arrow and not a vehicle.]
76. Baijiu
77. Hostess Fruit Pie
78. Snail
79. Lapsang Souchong – [Is warm in my French press on my desk! Is it weird to keep loose leaves in my desk drawer at work?]
80. Bellini
81. Tom Yum
82. Eggs Benedict
83. Pocky – [Also in desk drawer, one below lapsang.]
84. 3 Michelin Star Tasting Menu – [I wish. I eye them occasionally because it’s better to drool over food than to work.]
85. Kobe beef
86. Hare – [It looks much less cruel when you can it this rather than a fluffy bunny.]
87. Goulash
88. Flowers – [Has anyone ever had one that tasted like something?]
89. Horse
90. Criollo chocolate
91. Spam
92. Soft shell crab
93. Rose harissa [Not of the rose variety, but yes to the regular sort.]
94. Catfish
95. Mole poblano
96. Bagel and lox
97. Lobster Thermidor
98. Polenta
99. Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee
100. Snake – [I really ought to have said no when some of this shit (all exotic meats on this list) were offered to me. Stupid going home and eating whatever they make…]
77/78 out of 100 ain’t bad. Wow, I just ate up half an hour of work. Awesome.
I've been gasping a lot lately. This is not just gasping for breath because my chubby self can't deal with steep gradients; this is gasping out of disbelief. Shock, awe, surprise, whatever. I thought I was good at shuttering my reactions, but I think I've given up. Things that have made me gasp lately:
1. Lehman Brothers filing for Chapter 11. Are they kidding me? What happened, whiz kids? At this rate I won't be taking another vacation until 2012.
2. That girl on ANTM -- holla Liz -- comparing a group of girls asking if she was racist, to gang rape. Yes. Think on that one.
3. Having a metal object drop from the ceiling near my desk. I could have been beaned. Workman's COMP! Okay, it was ten feet away, but it was very noisy.
4. Megan getting tazed on Privileged. OMG I need a tazer.
5. Seeing the costs of tasting menus at two restaurants I want to dine at: CityZen and Citronelle. I initially recoiled, but I was clearly starting to go nutty when I started rationalizing (five minutes later) that $110 for six courses was almost affordable! That's less than $20 a course! You pay more for a steak at Ray's The Steak! Yeah, it didn't hold water. See item 1.
6. Having a boy latch onto me from behind like a baby koala while in a pool. That just doesn't happen everyday.
I'm sure there are more recent gasp-worthy events, but I'm just too darn wiped out. I'm red-eyed and barely surviving on my green gunk smoothie. Maybe this calls for a cupcake break? And why are there so many cupcake places in DC?
*sigh* I was scared into driving to work today because I caught wind of the bus strike today and thought it would hurt my commute. One bus every hour on the hour is just madness. But it doesn't affect me after all. Perhaps this hurts The Lorelei?
I'm visiting a friend for a portion of the weekend. All I asked for her to do was plan the two days I was visiting her, because I wasn't going to make any decisions. No way, no how. So...what does it say about me that she produces an itinerary that itemizes only the restaurants/cafes/diners that she thinks we ought to try? I mean...eight venues. That's ambitious for five meals. I guess I'm a glutton and everyone knows it. Aiy.
Two. The number of cars that tried to drift into me because they neither know how to use a signal or check their sideview mirror.
Three. The number of awesome acts of parallel parking I performed.
One. The number of U-turns I made mid-traffic. Fucking Georgetown, ya'll.
Three. The number of chilis I bite into. They were hiding in my food.
Six. The number of glasses of water I drank to try to mitigate the buuurrrrnnnnn.
Ten. The number of minutes after eating that the heartburn set in.
One. The number of professors I'm smitten with. He sung a song about Business Ethics, ya'll. And it included multiple mentions of Fyodor Dostoevsky. WIN.
Three. The number of papers that stand between me and finishing my class obligations.
Zero. The number of class I have left to attend for my degree. Huzzah!
Seven. The number of butterfly flower plants I potted this morning for my staff. Happy Administrative Professional Day!
One. The number of staff members that left my employee today. Hurm.
One. The number of naps I took in a sketchy parking lot.
One. The number of guys I saw peeing in public.
That's a good note to end on, yeah?
Had dinner at a Japanese restaurant. I was first to order, and I got hiyayako, asari soup, spider rolls, ikura and veg tempura. The waitress tried to walk away thinking it was for both of us. When I told it was just for me, she colored and giggled. Yes, I prefer variety when I eat. Don't judge me! Then we had a little verbal exchange about how much I looked Korean. I told her five different ways that I wasn't, and she decided I was. *sigh* Thank goodness I enjoy bonito flakes.
Saw Blades of Glory. On an average day, I find decapitation distasteful. In the context of this movie, it was fantastic. God bless the Iron Lotus.
I was comparing notes with a friend on the crappy reality shows we watch, and I tried to explain to him how much of an awesome trainwreck the search for the next Pussycat Doll was. He didn't know what a Pussycat Doll was. The clear course for this was to make him watch a Pussycat Doll video. So, in a move of some great irony, he pulled up the internet on his tv, and we watched said video on youtube. Watching craptastic pixelated tv on a gigantic high-def tv. Yar.
So it was New Years this weekend. To celebrate I gorged myself with fried foods, but didn't get within throwing distance of a temple unlike usual. Too damn cold. Too damn wet. Too damn windy. Devastation.
Still have to turn in tax return! Aiy.
I just sent away my portion of a group paper. It's been five years since I've bored myself this severely with my own writing. I read my recently written paper on US economic failure to study for an exam. I fell asleep. I tried to read through my pages on the economic failure of the Middle East. I fell asleep. I really wasn't mean to be a numbers girl. Nonetheless, it's done!
To celebrate, I went to the kitchen and grabbed a tangerine out of the basket. Of course it was sour. I've eaten over a dozen this week carelessly, and they were all sweet. I go to eat one with intention, and it was bad. My solution? Juice it! I mixed it with some honey and soda water, and I quite like it. Very fizzy, kinda kicky. I give myself snaps for resourcefulness.
But now I want to make oatmeal raisin cookies. I have neither oats, nor raisins, nor a tried-and-true recipe. Anyone? Perhaps shoving a handful of dried cherries and granola will suffice?
I had the end-all be-all shit days on Wednesday. I was so angry I was nauseous. I'm going to blame my nausea on that, and not on the post-nasal drip and potential ulcer and other stomach issues I have. Fucking people, ya'll. Luckily I did not bail on dinner as planned; we'd had the reservation for a couple weeks, and I haven't seen these particular friends in too long. Wish Bear is witness to all of this: I stewed in my car outside her house I was so pissed off. Nonetheless, I won't dwell on the anger aspect.
It's Restaurant Week in the DC Area...Lorelei, have you gone anywhere? We went to Bistro Bis, and even though I not hungry, I will easily write it off as good and as a place I'd go again. Meanwhile, while I'm trying to chat about Botox and the price point of L'Oreal, I hear my friend whispering, "That's Morley Safer sitting at the next table."
This gets my attention and I look. "No way."
"Way."
"That's not..." Then I imagine the 60 Minutes lineup in my head. I can see this guy saying "I'm Morley Safer" in my head. Sold. "It is Morley Safer!"
Wish Bear turns to me and says, "What? What are you talking about?"
I lean over and whisper, "The guy sitting at the table next to us is Morley Safer!"
"Who?"
I look at her in disbelief. "Morley Safer."
"Who's Morley Safer?"
Yar. Okay, so if you don't watch 60 Minutes or the CBS News, then you don't know Morley Safer. But he's effing Morley Safer. You don't have to know him by face, but by name, I think a lot of people know the man. I write it down for her to see. Nothing.
Now, I'll tell you the fall-out of this:
1) I am appalled she doesn't know him and tell her this.
2) It wasn't Morley Safer.
I come home, and feel a little shaky on my face recognition. I know for sure it's a 60 Minutes correspondent, but I'm doubting the Morley now. And I'm right. I'm retarded. It's either Steve Kroft or a dead ringer. Okay, so I missed by, like, 20 years. But still, same show!
Now, off to dinner again. I'm sniffly, but I'm hungry, so I'm going to brave the rain! If you're at Old Ebbitt tonight, say wassup to the Asian girl in black. Distinctive, I know.
Three hours back from Vegas. I'm going to be brief, because really, how does one sum up the Vegas experience?
Twenty pounds heavier. Totally worth it. Not turducken, but quaducken. Good risotto. Surprised. Desserts to drool over. Tasty tapanade. More mashed potatoes than any Thanksgiving weekend deserves. Thus, mocking 'Thinner' scale.
New enemies: McCarron escalator. AirTran flight attendant. Children who can't stop running when told. Parents who can't control their children. My left foot. Hmm, the last is an old enemy, but I'd forgotten about it, and thus rediscovered it. So, like new.
Pool achieved at heavy price of cold weather. Jacuzzis are lovely. Children have very little use for me when they realize I'm not from LA. Old men with hairy bodies are endlessly fascinating. Especially with gold chains.
Lingering questions: Is there is a school for strippers? Do sinks speak to us in their native language? Why does the Bellagio have five television stations that are Chinese language? Why does a 'Fatburger' not taste fattening enough?
I do many things to avoid productivity, and in a way, it is productive in and of itself. Just today, instead of coming home to read up on market capitalization I dawdled at work and helped a co-worker figure out where to book a dinner reservation for tomorrow night. She's taking out an old professor of her daughter's. Very sweet. We decided on Butterfield 9 over Ceiba even though I tried to book both. Damn opentable for being all smart and fair to its businesses! I hear good things. I'll wait for her review. Anyone here been? Heard anything firsthand? Secondhand?
Then I went to Borders after work a did a random search of thin books and bought The Horlas and How Proust Can Change Your Life. I bought these why? Not just because I want to depress myself, but because:
a) I'm daring Alain de Botton to tell me how to enjoy Proust. Fucking...did he read Swann's Way? He probably has, but I've tried, and it sucks. I also failed at In Search of Lost Time. I'm not assigned these books for school. I don't necessarily read them because I think classics are good for you -- in fact I believe a lot of classics are bad for you -- but I tripped over Proust in French one day in the library while I was crawling out of the special collections of my school library, and thought, huh, Marcel, that's a neat name. Same with Balzac. He had lots of books in French. Honore. Another amusing name. Asshole.
b) Thin books make me feel less guilty for buying books I'm probably not going to finish any time soon, or if I do finish them, then I feel accomplished. Because they're usually still substantial reading, just...tiny....Novellas count!
c) My other options were Marquis de Sade, Willa Cather, Truman Capote, Jack Kerouac, and Stephen Crane, among others. No. Just. No. Not that I haven't enjoyed bits of each of them, but no. I kind of wanted Oscar Hijuelos, but his book was thick and did not fit today's book hunting criteria.
I'll report later on what I think of each book. Another day. Another time. Another year, maybe.
I left Borders after two hours, because I skimmed through a romance novel while I was there, and was quite amused. That is fluff. I enjoy fluff. It's like flipping through manga.
Came home. Read through vox. Fucking blinded myself because Lorelei is dirty hooker! She led me wayward. Didn't mean I didn't laugh after I gasped. Nonetheless. She also distracted me worthily down a new road of productive unproductivity. She has a challenge.
My response:
That's right! Me about to kick someone's ass is me looking innocent and confused to lull them into a false sense of security before I open up a can of slap fight on 'em! ...
Okay look. Isn't it enough that I managed to find a long sleeve shirt that wasn't gray or white? Isn't it bad enough that it's not black? I'm not menacing! I'm not! All I have is the false innocence on my side! I don't look threatening. People don't think I look scary. You try walking about with a super round face that has your friend pinching your cheeks randomly, then you talk to me about ninja-posing like 'I'm a gonna kick yo ass.'
I can blend with the nature...Not so much now with the no leaves on the trees and all, but in the spring and summer...and wouldn't it freak you out to have a green ninja jump out at you and hit you with an open palm of slap fight ala Grey's Anatomy last week? Okay, was that awesome, or was it just me? Am I just a sucker for the boys that fight in the woods?
I forgot that I dislike drive-thrus so intensely. Today I was reminded why. I'm not coherent enough to form the prose to explain my anguish, so ticking them off will have to do:
1) I understand that you might not know exactly what you want, but damn well know what the joint serves. Don't go clueless into the line and hold up six cars behind you because you couldn't be bothered to look at the menu where you were just parked next to for a full minute. Fucking...LOOK! Don't twirl your hair, don't bite on your finger looking stupid because you don't know that Chick-Fil-A doesn't serve hot cakes! They have biscuits! Biscuits and meat! Deal!
2) Pay attention to the fucking cashier. Don't hold out your credit card and then look away. Don't twirl your wrist so the woman has to chase your card around in circles. Don't keep talking to your dumbass friend and ignore the woman trying to hand you four sweet teas and two bags of food. You can talk, you don't have to look! If they're in your car at 8 am and getting fast food with you, I think you can risk the questionable rudeness of looking away when someone's talking. Pay attention! I have to get to work!
3) Do not, and I mean DO NOT pull forward so I think you're done only to stop after five feet. Enough to make you think you've pulled away so you're not being inconsiderate, but not far enough for me to reach the window. The cashier is looking between us, I'm looking between you and her. We're both wondering why you're so stupid. There's an empty lot in front of you! You're not going to be able to throw your car in reverse to come back to deal if the food is wrong. Fucking...pull into a space and check!
So okay, I hate the drive-thru etiquette of other drivers. I don't really hate the idea of drive-thrus, since one of my greatest joys is the Krispy Kreme drive-thru off of Rte. 1....but some times I get agitated, and I think the love affair is over, but then I go back, and it's okay for a while, and then this happens again...And I cry a little inside.
*sigh*
