I trust Martin Yan. The apron, the wok-related aphorisms, the unflagging enthusiasm. He’s lovable. He’s approachable. He’s like the Bob Ross of instructional Chinese food public television programming. Happy little Peking duck. Happy little scallion pancakes.
Granted, instructional Chinese food public television programming is a bit of a niche market, so that’s kinda like calling my only brother my favorite brother, but it does not diminish the warm fuzzies he inspires. (Martin Yan, I mean. My brother does not generally inspire the warm fuzzies, although he does remain my favorite brother. I mean it.)
It can’t be all sunshine and rainbows.
I give you this line to contemplate: “What child doesn’t imagine a house made of meat during the holidays?” Does it resonate with you? If so, please stay far away from me at all times.
So I was on Amazon the other day spending some of my hard-earned kickbacks affiliate payments, and I took a look at some of what people were buying. All those of you who bought the Charlie Palmer book, good job. For whoever bought the Dungeons and Dragons books, don’t worry because (1) Amazon doesn’t tell me who you are and (2) I cannot judge you as harshly as I would someone who purchased, for example, a Rachael Ray book, as I have openly admitted in this very forum to having played Magic: The Gathering. I too have been intimate with a 20-sided die. (Although let’s be frank: I’m not still buying that crap.) But like I said, no judgment.
You know this coming Monday is Hobo Monday, right? You’re already all planned out. You’re raring to go.
Of course you are.
Is anyone having feed-related issues the past few days? Because half of you have been disappearing and then reappearing every other day with impressive regularity. If you’re experiencing weirdness on your end or haven’t been getting posts, can you let me know? I need to know whether to direct my angst toward FeedBurner or your spastic disappearing acts. (Otherwise, I’ll follow the classic rule and direct it toward the guest. Always blame the guest.)
I live to serve. Unless the majority vote had wanted liveblogging of Chopped, which fortunately only 2 hapless souls did because then I would have had to crush your dreams. I even did my homework, going to the Fox site to check out the remaining contestants so I wouldn’t have to refer to them as “fat Chicago guy” or “girl with lazy eye.”
I mean, this didn’t taste like chicken. It tasted like lamb, which is what it was. I mean that there’s something slightly unsatisfying about a Wednesday Night Smackdown. Like, it should be slightly exciting and unorthodox because it’s not a Thursday, but it tastes like chicken. Like alligator meat. Or what I imagine alligator meat would taste like.