Like the great restaurant that has realized there isn't enough cheese on their menu — God forbid — TFW will be going on a hiatus for a bit while we decide how best to work on our issues.
We will let you know if and when we will be ready to resume expanding both your horizons and our waistlines.
In the meantime, we have one question: Are you going to eat that last potsticker?
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Monday, February 2, 2009
Nobody Puts Tapas in the Corner
Tapas. It's a grand word. One of our favorites, actually. We are at our best when we are ordering small plates of food, because we can distract our dining companions with a humorous bon mot or something (we are so those people—witty as hell), and begin to order as if a giant, flaming asteroid is screaming toward Earth making this, ostensibly, our very last meal. Like, "Code Blue" ordering. Finally, when someone stops us, we still have the reflexes to sneak in a "...and pork tacos" as the waitperson is walking away.
See? It doesn't matter, it's tapas. Small plates. So what if last time we did it there were about 14 plates for three of us? Okay, sixteen, and some dessert stuff, too. But, for argument's sake, let's call it 11.
But it's all soooo good. Meats, cheeses, sauces, fried potatoes, and if you are lucky, a combination of all of those. It is truly a wondrous eating concept, tapas is. And probably a great name for a pet or child. "Come here, Tapas!" Now, doesn't that make you happy?
As far as us over-ordering, don't worry your pretty little head about that. We'll be fine. Just drink your stupid wine while we clean the plates. See? All better.
See? It doesn't matter, it's tapas. Small plates. So what if last time we did it there were about 14 plates for three of us? Okay, sixteen, and some dessert stuff, too. But, for argument's sake, let's call it 11.
But it's all soooo good. Meats, cheeses, sauces, fried potatoes, and if you are lucky, a combination of all of those. It is truly a wondrous eating concept, tapas is. And probably a great name for a pet or child. "Come here, Tapas!" Now, doesn't that make you happy?
As far as us over-ordering, don't worry your pretty little head about that. We'll be fine. Just drink your stupid wine while we clean the plates. See? All better.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Cupcakes vs. Donuts: It’s On!
Cupcakes are pretty, certainly. They are often decorated with lovely flowers and are sold in bakeries that are precious, too. So what if they are $7 a piece? They were on Sex & the City. They are like individual works of art. Like edible sculptures. Deal with it.
They are also a very silly pursuit. And a lot of needless work. First you have to deal with that wrapper. On a baked good. A wrapper. Exactly. Then, if it has a lot of icing, you wind up getting some icing on your face. Especially if you happen to attack a baked good like that tiger on Roy. Or like, uh, two people we know.
To be honest with you, if we are going to waste hundreds of calories in a single sitting, we’re going to do it while exerting as little energy as possible. Cupcakes are energy. We have a much better solution. One we like to call, the thinking person’s portable munchie.
What would that be? Donuts, fool. Donuts are more no-nonsense and better reflect the desire to overeat. Because a cupcake is a dessert, it's an event. While a donut could be considered a snack, especially if you are delusional. cough cough
Donuts seem more utilitarian. And there are far more creative flavors. There is not a cupcake alive that could cope with the majesty of a coconut cream donut from The Donut Plant, which is sort of like Heaven, only with iced mango and chunky-peanut-butter-and-jelly donuts. It's way downtown in NYC but we'd pull a rickshaw filled with The Biggest Losers for their Italian plum jelly donuts.
Another benefit of donuts is that they are clearly meant for no-fuss consumption. First of all, they are cleverly designed with a hole in their midst, to cut down on wind resistance, meaning they get to our gnashing teeth sooner. That’s science. And if you don’t think that extra fraction of a second will help us during a meal, you haven’t been spending time with TFW’s, especially after we’ve been drinking heavily.
Then again, when those are the conditions, we’re not really sure a live duck with a truffle tied around its neck would be safe.
Wait, is that bad?
They are also a very silly pursuit. And a lot of needless work. First you have to deal with that wrapper. On a baked good. A wrapper. Exactly. Then, if it has a lot of icing, you wind up getting some icing on your face. Especially if you happen to attack a baked good like that tiger on Roy. Or like, uh, two people we know.
To be honest with you, if we are going to waste hundreds of calories in a single sitting, we’re going to do it while exerting as little energy as possible. Cupcakes are energy. We have a much better solution. One we like to call, the thinking person’s portable munchie.
What would that be? Donuts, fool. Donuts are more no-nonsense and better reflect the desire to overeat. Because a cupcake is a dessert, it's an event. While a donut could be considered a snack, especially if you are delusional. cough cough
Donuts seem more utilitarian. And there are far more creative flavors. There is not a cupcake alive that could cope with the majesty of a coconut cream donut from The Donut Plant, which is sort of like Heaven, only with iced mango and chunky-peanut-butter-and-jelly donuts. It's way downtown in NYC but we'd pull a rickshaw filled with The Biggest Losers for their Italian plum jelly donuts.
Another benefit of donuts is that they are clearly meant for no-fuss consumption. First of all, they are cleverly designed with a hole in their midst, to cut down on wind resistance, meaning they get to our gnashing teeth sooner. That’s science. And if you don’t think that extra fraction of a second will help us during a meal, you haven’t been spending time with TFW’s, especially after we’ve been drinking heavily.
Then again, when those are the conditions, we’re not really sure a live duck with a truffle tied around its neck would be safe.
Wait, is that bad?
Monday, January 26, 2009
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Thanks, "A Lot"...
How much is 'a lot'? It's a question that has troubled people ever since we traded in our togas for fixed-waisted pantaloons. (Hungry and smart, we are.)
To some people, 'a lot' is actually a little — like servings of cheesecake that are so small we could mistake them for sticks of gum. To others (read: us) 'a lot' means something entirely different.
We didn't come to our conclusion quickly, as we take decisions involving food very seriously. Many meals were consumed to answer the same manner of question: Is this a lot of pasta? Is that a lot of cheese in our quesadilla? Are you going to eat the rest of your pork loin? Okay, so the last one is a question of a different sort, but you would surprised at how often that comes up.
After watching the "John Adams" mini-series on cable TV, we decided to model our decision-making technique after the Continental Congress. (It helps that they were all fat.) We both made presentations—one of us had a slide show, the other brought props, including a dog that seemed to sleep through his portion of the skit, where he was supposed to represent a strip steak. (Actually, I have just been informed that he was in character. My apologies, my hairy method-acting friend. I wasn't aware that beef snored.)
The TFW braintrust kicked it around, digested our findings, literally and figuratively, and have come to the conclusion that "a lot" constitutes four servings of something. Anything less than that is considered merely a "heaping" or even "healthy" portion.
The most obvious beneficiary of this? Movie theater owners who sell those boxes of candy. Because, after checking many of them out, they come in at a "healthy" 3 1/2 servings, which isn't considered 'a lot' in our world, despite how it so torments our gullets.
To some people, 'a lot' is actually a little — like servings of cheesecake that are so small we could mistake them for sticks of gum. To others (read: us) 'a lot' means something entirely different.
We didn't come to our conclusion quickly, as we take decisions involving food very seriously. Many meals were consumed to answer the same manner of question: Is this a lot of pasta? Is that a lot of cheese in our quesadilla? Are you going to eat the rest of your pork loin? Okay, so the last one is a question of a different sort, but you would surprised at how often that comes up.
After watching the "John Adams" mini-series on cable TV, we decided to model our decision-making technique after the Continental Congress. (It helps that they were all fat.) We both made presentations—one of us had a slide show, the other brought props, including a dog that seemed to sleep through his portion of the skit, where he was supposed to represent a strip steak. (Actually, I have just been informed that he was in character. My apologies, my hairy method-acting friend. I wasn't aware that beef snored.)
The TFW braintrust kicked it around, digested our findings, literally and figuratively, and have come to the conclusion that "a lot" constitutes four servings of something. Anything less than that is considered merely a "heaping" or even "healthy" portion.
The most obvious beneficiary of this? Movie theater owners who sell those boxes of candy. Because, after checking many of them out, they come in at a "healthy" 3 1/2 servings, which isn't considered 'a lot' in our world, despite how it so torments our gullets.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
A Burger By Any Other Name...
Up until yesterday, we thought we had found the perfect job for us in this post-Apocalyptic economy. For we are multi-lingual, multi-talented, occasionally multi-vitamined individuals who are easily adaptable to any work environment that permits a fridge and rotisserie grille (okay, that’s a stretch, but not by much.)
So when the light bulb went off the other day, we could scarcely believe our luck at having such a great idea. Finally, we were ready to transition from people who eat at work to people who eat for work.
Our new idea was simple: we would be starting a consulting firm that advised chain restaurants what to name their new menu selections. Check this out: Not content with merely eating it, we would be offering our services, traveling around the country in Bourdain's private jet that we boosted in Madagascar (sorry, TB) and demonstrating to the fast food titans how to draw attention to their menus in this time of need.
We would first do this by sampling everything their restaurant serves. To get to know them better, understand. Because, when you go in cold, mistakes happen. For example, we would never have come up with Hardees Monster Thickburger. Terrible name. Our key criteria would be the name had to evoke deliciousness and illicitness in equal parts.
So anyway, we were far along enough to begin thinking of what we were going to call ourselves. It was a pitched battle. Neither of us wanted to give quarter, or to talk with our mouths full, so we never managed to come to a consensus. That should have told us something about our naming abilities. And yet it did not.
No matter. Because, as we were preparing the menu for our launch party (you can't even imagine) we came across something that made The Food Whisperers realize that we had been beaten to to the punch.
It came in the form of a hulking, scary-yet-enticing, 2040-calorie, 150-gram of fat item on the menu of Chili's. Introducing: "Chili's Smokehouse Bacon Triple-The-Cheese Big Mouth Burger with Jalapeno Ranch Dressing".
We know: perfection.
Damn you, Chili’s Smokehouse Bacon Triple-The-Cheese Big Mouth Burger with Jalapeno Ranch Dressing! Damn you straight to hell!
So when the light bulb went off the other day, we could scarcely believe our luck at having such a great idea. Finally, we were ready to transition from people who eat at work to people who eat for work.
Our new idea was simple: we would be starting a consulting firm that advised chain restaurants what to name their new menu selections. Check this out: Not content with merely eating it, we would be offering our services, traveling around the country in Bourdain's private jet that we boosted in Madagascar (sorry, TB) and demonstrating to the fast food titans how to draw attention to their menus in this time of need.
We would first do this by sampling everything their restaurant serves. To get to know them better, understand. Because, when you go in cold, mistakes happen. For example, we would never have come up with Hardees Monster Thickburger. Terrible name. Our key criteria would be the name had to evoke deliciousness and illicitness in equal parts.
So anyway, we were far along enough to begin thinking of what we were going to call ourselves. It was a pitched battle. Neither of us wanted to give quarter, or to talk with our mouths full, so we never managed to come to a consensus. That should have told us something about our naming abilities. And yet it did not.
No matter. Because, as we were preparing the menu for our launch party (you can't even imagine) we came across something that made The Food Whisperers realize that we had been beaten to to the punch.
It came in the form of a hulking, scary-yet-enticing, 2040-calorie, 150-gram of fat item on the menu of Chili's. Introducing: "Chili's Smokehouse Bacon Triple-The-Cheese Big Mouth Burger with Jalapeno Ranch Dressing".
We know: perfection.
Damn you, Chili’s Smokehouse Bacon Triple-The-Cheese Big Mouth Burger with Jalapeno Ranch Dressing! Damn you straight to hell!
Monday, January 12, 2009
Great Expectations
Sometime within the next two weeks we will be making our way to Momofuku Milk Bar. Neither of us have been there just yet, but can’t wait (The holidays delayed this visit a bit). Cereal milk and a compost cookie made of potato chips, pretzels, coffee grounds, chocolate chips, graham crumbs, butterscotch chips, and a little bit of flour are promised. And we promise to say “two please.” If all goes as planned the pastry chef, Christine Tosi, may just turn out to be one of our heroes. We’ll keep you posted.
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