The Daily Procrastinator

For most of my life, I hated hot sauce.  It’s not that I don’t like the heat — I’ll eat nearly any kind of chicken that’s drenched in wing sauce, and that’s little more than hot sauce and butter — so there was really no plausible explanation for my aversion to the stuff.  And then, in the waning days of my 20s, a coworker shared a secret: I didn’t hate hot sauce.  What I hated was Tabasco.

Drop your regular hot sauce and give this a try.

With all due respect to the McIlhenny family, there isn’t a drop of flavor in the classic Tabasco hot sauce.  Heat, yes; I learned the hard way from cleaning up a shattered bottle that the stuff burns like hell if it gets into a cut or hangnail.  But flavor?  No.

I tried several other brands of sauce, but the classic pepper sauce that I settled on as my personal favorite was Cholula.  Try it on an omelette someday.  Trust me, it’s a whole new flavor experience.

But then, one day at Chipotle, I noticed that Tabasco had two other flavors: milder jalapeno and, appropriately, chipotle.  I tried both and while the jalapeno isn’t bad, I find the green color to be a total turnoff.  But the deep red, smoky flavor of the chipotle won me over.  I love this stuff.  If I didn’t already have too much crap in my bag, I’d carry a bottle around with me to salvage mediocre burritos and tacos (and possibly breakfasts).

Do yourself a favor: if you enjoy flavor more than just heat, give this stuff a try.  Better yet, invite me along for a burrito.

You know what we’re talking about: you can’t resist them, yet part of you cringes at the badness of it all. I want your Top 5, kids.

Mine include:

• Pepperoni pizza. Unlike my general high standards for pizza, I will eat any crappy pizza if it’s topped with pepperoni. It makes no sense at all.
• Rice Krispy treats. I suppose they’re probably not so bad in moderation, but I’ve never eaten them in moderation.
• Milkshakes, but only if they’re the massive black-and-white shakes from Nifty Fifty’s in Philly.
• Tastykakes. Yes, I’m from Philly, what do you expect?
• Funnel cakes. My favorite part of any fair or festival is the funnel cake cart. Dough cooked in oil and covered with powdered sugar? Pure genius for the carb obsessed.

Flashcap here. I’ve got plenty of guilty pleasure foods, but my top five are:

• McDonald’s Double Quarter Pounder w/cheese. Yeah, yeah, Super Size Me and all that, but I can’t help it. The greasy burger beckons me every time I pull into the drive-thru. I swear I hear my arteries cursing me when I’m swallowing it down. Luckily I run long distances.
• Cheetos. Bags of the crunchy orange temptations don’t stay in the house long at all.
• Chili dogs. Even more than those Royales w/cheese, I’ll eat the hell out of chili dogs. Sadly, there’s no Wienerschnitzel close to where I live or work, so Sonic chili dogs are the quickest ones available, but not quite the same thing.
• Pepperoni rolls. We have a pizza place here in Texas called DoubleDave’s where they roll pepperoni and cheese up in twists of dough and bake them. Add either ranch or marinara dipping sauce and I’m bound to eat 10 of them in one sitting. Beware of any imitations.
• Peanut M&Ms. I’m like a vacuum when it comes to those things. I can’t stop eating them when they’re in front of me. Hey, the peanuts are lowering my cholesterol, right?

So…you want to know about BigRedPoet’s top 5 guilty pleasure foods, huh? I’m going to need a minute to whittle down my preliminary list of 462…

• Ultimate Bacon Cheeseburger from Jack In The Box. There’s no two ways about it; this is the best (worst?) hamburger available in the fast food world. Sure, you can FEEL yourself getting fatter while you eat it, but sometimes a ration of fat is worth a ration of awesome.
• Crunchwrap Supreme from Taco Bell. Oh my God. Who invented this? I want to give him/her a big sloppy kiss. This thing consists of a huge tortilla, beans, taco meat, a crispy tostada chip, lettuce, tomato, shredded cheese, melted nacho cheese, and sour cream, all wrapped up and cooked in a quesadilla press. Wow.
• Summer Sausage, Cheese, and Crackers. My inability to resist this particular snack is a vestige of being raised in the midwest, I think. Sure, my fellow southerners like summer sausage, but I don’t believe they understand my deep and abiding love for this fatty snack.
• Peanut Butter Kisses from the Mary Jane Company. I love these things. I can literally sit and eat them until my abdomen aches and my noggin rings with a sugar headache. At that point, I begin to think, “Maybe I should only eat 11 or 12 more.”
• Golden Corral. Go ahead. Click the link, then read the menu. I’ll wait… Now, tell me this: Who wouldn’t want to eat about three great big plates off that buffet? I only allow myself to go to Golden Corral once or twice a year, but when I do, it’s serious business.

Juggernaut’s turn, although I take issue with this whole “guilt” thing. I don’t feel guilty about what I eat. As a matter of fact, I don’t feel guilty about much of anything. Must be part and parcel of doing no wrong. [insert retching sounds from the others here at the DP] Anyway, here’s my list of foods that will likely kill me:

• Like BRP, I’m going with JITB’s Ultimate Bacon Cheeseburger. If at the time of my order I feel like adding a few more minutes on the end of my life, I’ll drop the bacon.
• I can honestly say that I have never had pizza that I didn’t like. Chuck E. Cheese’s version comes the closest, but I’ll eat it if I’m dragged to some 6-year-old’s birthday party. But my favorite pizza (at least chain-wise) is Pizza Hut’s Deep Dish Meat Lovers. Pepperoni, Italian sausage, ham, bacon and beef. God, I want some pizza. Whose bright idea was it to ask me for this at lunch? I’m blaming TallGirl.
• Twizzlers. Anytime I go to a movie, I have a large Mr. Pibb and a big bag of Twizzlers. It’s my routine. There are those out there who do not like licorice. I say they have no taste and should not bother expressing opinions on candy.
• Blue Bell Peppermint ice cream. I love any peppermint ice cream, but Blue Bell wins out because 1) it’s Blue Bell and 2) Blue Bell is made in Texas. Unfortunately, peppermint is considered a “seasonal” flavor and is only out around Christmas time. Damn Blue Bell.
• Last but not least, easy-made nachos at home. I take a big pile of Tostitos and dump an obscene amount of shredded cheddar on them, then nuke it for 40 seconds (yes, I have the time down). Pour a cup of salsa over the top and you have a great late night snack.

Magnus here. Nothing like peer pressure to make me actually write instead of maintaining my site and WORK. You know, to pay the bills? But here we go.

• Taco Bell #3. With mild sauce. (And two soft steak tacos. But don’t tell.)
• Swedish Chocolate. Mmm . . . Marabou.
• Herring. Pickled. With mustard sauce.
• Caviar. Kalle’s. On a sandwich. Oh wait, that’s actually good for me. Nevermind.
• Meatballs. With lots of sauce and lingon berries and mashed potatoes. Preferably made by my mom. (Hey Mom? I’m hungry, please send some, huh?)
• Bacon. How we got this far down the list without bacon, I don’t understand. It’s a major food group, people!

Don't call her TallGirl . . . Call her BEER GIRL!

Dear Internet, I am hereby preparing you for a future event.  In six weeks I’ll be departing for Germany for two weeks of sightseeing and, of course, beer.

It is my heartfelt desire that you can share in this experience with me.  How?  I, TallGirl, will take it upon myself to sample as many German beers as I possibly can and report these results back to you, our loyal readers.

I’ve found a list to get me started, but let’s be honest: these beers were probably reviewed by beer aficionados.  These are the kind of people, like wine people, who can detect notes of clove or banana or the mint plant on a neighboring farm.  I am not one of these people.  My reviews will be much simpler, highlighting drinkability and enjoyment.

So keep your eyes open starting August 1 for this valuable public service, only from The Daily Procrastinator.

I’m originally from Philadelphia, and now that I’ve spent a decade living in California, I’m astonished by how horrible my Back-East Eating Habits are.

I’ve been living in Eastern Daylight Time since late night Saturday, and have consumed, on average, 13,240,000 calories per day.  I have eaten:

• Ham & cheese omelette with a side of pancakes and plenty of syrup
• Iced lemon pound cake… for breakfast
• A sandwich slathered in blue cheese dressing, with a side of chips
• Canneloni in cream sauce
• French toast, sausage, bacon, pancakes and fruit salad (guilt begins to set in)
• Ham & cheese sandwich and fruit salad (guilt becomes more intense)
• Vegetarian burrito bowl from Chipotle (not the worst thing ever)
• Chocolate… and chocolate
• Donuts
• Horrible pizza
• Chocolate
• A deep-fried chicken sandwich with wing sauce, ranch dressing and fries
• More donuts

I still haven’t had any cheesesteaks, hoagies, soft pretzels, Tastykakes, good pizza or any other fat and calorie-laden favorites, so I have all of that to look forward to tomorrow and Thursday.  If I can make it back to California on the 10th with even one pair of pants that can still button, it will be a miracle.

It’s Cinco de Mayo, the day when ordinary, everyday Americans celebrate a regional holiday from the Mexican state of Puebla commemorating the defeat of French forces more than 140 years ago (there’s your random bit of history for the day). But chances are that you don’t care about the origins of the holiday. You’re interested in the party tonight.

If you’re headed to a bar, you’re on your own. If you’re hosting or attending a party, please, please, PLEASE don’t show up with another six pack of Corona or a jar of shelf-stable salsa. You have options that will set you apart from the crowd.

Beer

In spite of the fact that every party attendee shows up with six bottles and a lime, Corona is not the only Mexican beer. If you’re looking for something Mexican that doesn’t involve a wedge of lime, consider Negro Modelo, Pacifico or Tecate.

Margaritas

You don’t need margarita mix. All you need is ice, 1.5 ounces of tequila, 1 ounce lime juice and 0.5 ounces Cointreau. Shake and serve.

Munchies

Are you more interested in munchies than drinks? Follow this recipe:

• Can of black beans
• Can of corn
• Can of jalapeno petite-diced tomatoes
• One lemon
• One lime
• Cumin

Open cans, rinse and drain contents. Dump into a bowl. Squeeze juice of lemon and lime over it. Add cumin to taste. Mix. Serve with tortilla chips. Done. Also works as a great topping for burritos, tacos or any other Mexican entree.

Have fun tonight, and tomorrow morning, don’t forget our hangover cures post from St. Patrick’s Day.

It’s no Squeez Bacon, but in these days where Swine Flu gives the pig a bad name, I feel that it’s my patriotic duty to remind us all that bacon is safe to eat.  And I do this with Bacon Explosion.  Go ahead, click the link.  I’ll wait.

Behold, a pork extravaganza.

Bacon, pork sausage, seasoning and BBQ sauce.  It’s insanity.  And yet, for as utterly horrified as I may be, I must admit that I’d be curious enough to try just a bit.

Now, I’m waiting for the person who kicks it up a notch by somehow incorporating cheese into the recipe.  Act now.  Cardiologists are standing by.

In 15 years of browsing the internet, I’ve seen every kind of bizarre, amazing, and/or appetizing web content. In fact, some days, I think there’s nothing left out there that could really make me stop and shake my head. On those days, I am wrong.

As proof of the internet’s inexhaustible supply of cool new discoveries, check out the following product, which was recently pointed out to me by a friend.

According to the product's website, "a few years after WWII ended, a young man working in a small restaurant in Sweden developed a new way to process bacon. By precooking it and blending it in a special way, he was able to make a fully cooked 100% bacon paste that could be squeezed from a tube."

When I first saw this product, I thought I was horrified and nauseated. On second thought, though, I’m pretty sure I’m thrilled and hungry. Frankly, Squeez Bacon sounds like a great idea. Nearly everything is better with bacon. For example, imagine a hamburger. Now, imagine the hamburger with bacon on it. Better, right? Now repeat the process with a slice of pizza. Now try it with a baked potato. See the pattern?

Bacon = better.

The website says, “If it’s edible, it’s better with Squeez Bacon.” I must admit that I agree. After all, “Squeez Bacon® is fully cooked 100% bacon. Due to the patented electro-mechanical process by which Squeez Bacon® is rendered, it requires no preservatives or other additives. Each serving is as healthy as real bacon, and equivalent to 4 premium slices of bacon!” I simply can’t argue with that.

Put it on toast and eggs! Sushi! Canteloupe! Hash browns! Pizza! Heck, put it on your BACON!

At $7.99 per tube, Squeez Bacon is a steal! Here’s your homework, procrastinators: Get some Squeez Bacon. Put it on a random food. Take a picture. Post a link to your picture as a comment on this post. Happy eating!

As you’ve probably noticed, my fellow procrastinators, this is one of my favorite times of year. First, April brings the return of baseball. Second, and just as importantly, April signals the beginning of crawfish season. Soon, herds of Southerners will be gathered around boiling pots of crawfish with cold bottles of beer in hand, waiting to indulge in on of life’s finest culinary delicacies.

They look tasty, don't they?

If you’ve never eaten crawfish, I don’t really know how to explain it without sounding somewhat barbaric and violent. Basically, once they’re boiled with some good, hot spices, you bust them in half, suck the juices out of the front half, discard it, then crack open the tail end and eat the delicious morsel of meat you find inside. If you’ve got particularly big crawfish, you can sometimes get little bits of meat out of the claws, too. It’s a lot of work for for a few small niblets of seafood, but it’s worth every moment.

Of course, crawfish are just the main course. The average pot of crawfish also contains new potatoes, half-ears of corn, and chunks of sausage. Some enterprising cooks toss in mushrooms, as well. Taken together, it’s a meal fit for a king…a messy, hungry king.

Next weekend, the Texas Crawfish and Music Festival will be held in Spring, TX. One of my favorite musicians, Bob Schneider, is set to close the main stage on Friday night. Picture the scene: live music on multiple stages, crawfish sold by the pound at little stands everywhere you turn, frosty beverages enjoyed en masse. It’s safe to say that I’m more than a little excited. If you happen to be near Spring, Texas next weekend, drop by the festival. I’ll buy you a meal you won’t soon forget.

When I was a child, Hershey’s Kisses were the coolest thing ever.  Perfectly bite-sized milk chocolate.  And the symbolism!  How could you go wrong?

For Valentine’s Day, my Nana — sweet as anything at 90 — sent me a package filled with Kisses.  Aww, so cute and kitschy, especially since I’m well past my grandma-sends-me-Valentines years.  I put them aside as a reminder of her warmth and generosity.

You know, they never look this well-wrapped and shiny in real life.

Last night, I was on deadline.  It was 11 PM, my energy was waning and there was just one thing that would save that whitepaper: chocolate.  I was lamenting the lack of chocolate in my house when I suddenly remembered my Valentine’s Day gift.  Salvation!  Chocolate!

I opened the lid, unwrapped the first one (an easy task as it was already partially unwrapped on its own) and popped it in my mouth.  A look of confusion crossed my face, and I spit it into a napkin.  Was this what Kisses tasted like?  There was no chocolatey mouth feel; it tasted almost like it was made with imitation chocolate flavoring.  In fact, the entire experience made me think of the Nutrimatic Drinks Dispenser from The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.

When the ‘Drink’ button is pressed it makes an instant but highly detailed examination of the subject’s taste buds, a spectroscopic analysis of the subject’s metabolism, and then sends tiny experimental signals down the neural pathways to the taste centres of the subject’s brain to see what is likely to be well received. However, no-one knows quite why it does this because it then invariably delivers a cupful of liquid that is almost, but not quite, entirely unlike tea.

But wait.  This can’t be right, I thought to myself.  I LOVED these as a child.  Maybe it was just stale somehow, since it had come partially unwrapped.  I searched for one that was still tightly sealed, opened it expectantly and discovered that no, the first one was not stale.  Did I really have such poor taste as a child?

I’m not sure what was more disappointing: the complete lack of chocolate to support my late night craving, or the complete distortion of my childhood memories.  Maybe next time I can convince Nana to send Ghirardelli squares.

The question isn’t really whether I spend my money on organic products.  The question is whether I buy into the organic theme.  And lately, I’m just not sure.

I’m an avid farmer’s market shopper, but as I make my buying decisions — $1 more per basket for organic vs. conventional strawberries, $1.50 more per pound for organic apples — I find myself hesitating.  Am I shopping at the market for organic produce, or am I shopping there because the items are fresh-picked and better quality than what I can get at my local supermarket?  More often than not, the answer is quality.

That’s not to say that I’m not concerned about pesticides.  When I grow my own veggies at home, I’m very careful to not use chemical solutions to fight against the wee beasties that may be trying to eat my sugar snap peas and tomatoes.  Yet somehow, when the pest battle happens at a corporate farm, I’m less concerned about the results.  Out of sight, out of mind?  Naive, yes, but I’m fairly certain that I’m not the only one who feels that way.

Still, I’ve been strangely attached to organic milk, for reasons that I can’t quite explain.  I’ve been fairly mindlessly picking up my organic milk each week, assuming that there was some sort of great benefit to it, but this week I finally caught a glimpse of the price difference.  My organic milk was 117% more expensive than its conventional counterpart.  117%!  No wonder they keep the organic milk in a separate refrigerator.  Did I really need milk that cost twice as much, especially when most, if not all milk here in California appears to be labeled  rBGH-free?  And why am I so weirdly fixated on organic milk when I don’t apply the same standards to cheese, yogurt, sour cream or ice cream?

There’s ongoing debate about the health benefits of organic vs. conventional, but it seems to me that the biggest distinction comes in the final paragraph of this article from WebMD:

“From these studies examining the differences between organic milk and regular milk, it seems clear that the diet of the cows may be one of the most important factors. Most organic cows are pasture-fed as opposed to grain-fed, and it’s their natural diet that leads to superior quality milk. So, it’s not simply organic milk that holds the prize, it’s organic, pasture-fed milk that does the body better.” [italics mine]

My milk doesn’t tell me anything about what the cows were eating.  Are they grass-fed cows?  How much grass do they have to eat before they’re considered grass-fed vs. grain-fed?  Is my organic milk any healthier than the stuff that costs half as much?

Next week, I’m going to read the labels and see what I can learn about my cows’ diets.  If I can’t find any useful information, then I’m going to be saving a few dollars on next week’s grocery bill.