Funny story, I was uploading the pictures and writing the post about this cantaloupe grappa semifreddo from Gourmet while waiting for my mini test-freddo to freeze. (The whole loaf pan is going to take a lot longer, and I don’t trust my ability to unmold and photograph semifreddo at 2:30am. Or my ability to wake myself up at 2:30 to do so) And since I didn’t have the “finished” picture, I put in a placeholder in the space above that read “BEAUTY SHOT.”
I was in the kitchen a few moments ago getting a cup of coffee when I had two fruit flies FLY OUT OF THE TOASTER at me.
First episode of the Champions Round. $5 if you can guess who I want out first.
I should know better than to be fancy; it totally backfires. This looks completely twee. I should know how to play to my strengths by now, those being “heap crap in a bowl and put a [sprig of appropriate herb] on top.” I diverge from that, I end up with a dish that could be the photo on a Lean Cuisine box. Sad, because this dinner deserves better than that.
What I really REALLY want is for Fox not to air that horrific “The Bachelor: Plus Size Ladies Edition.” Let’s marginalize AND objectify size 14+ women AT THE SAME TIME. Genius! Show it on the National Geographic channel as a disturbing sociological study, fine. On Fox? May ravens pluck out mine eyes.
SAVE ME, RETAIL THERAPY.
I need to rebuild this damn place from scratch.
Of course, it would help if I actually, you know, cooked something.
I’ve been sitting here for over an hour, meaning to start writing but unable to look away from the Tour de France. I think Alberto Contador is a punk. Yeah, I said it. I hope Andreas Kloden waits until the Tour is over and then pops him right in the nose. I challenge you to fisticuffs, sir.
Four chefs enter! One chef leaves! Four chefs enter! One chef leaves!
God willing, that chef will be Art Smith. I’ll take Waxman if I have to.
Tonight, chefs Roy Yamaguchi (Roy’s Restaurants), Art Smith (Table Fifty-Two), Michael Cimarusti (Providence) and Jonathan Waxman (Barbuto) battle it out to see who joins Hubert “Give Up Now” Keller, Michael “When You Look Up Douchebag in the Dictionary” Chiarello, Anita “Hey, what’s that over there? You’re dead and I win.” Lo, Rick “Suck My Enchilada” Bayless and Suzanne “My Cat’s Breath Smells Like Cat Food” Tracht. Join me!
Do people even say that anymore? I don’t know, I’m so out of touch with what the kids are up to. I now have nieces and nephews older than new hires at my office? How is this happening? I AM ONLY 31. I CANNOT BE THIS OLD YET.
Only risotto shaped into a ball, stuffed with gorgonzola, breaded and deep-fried in olive oil can assuage me.
I said I would give it 24 hours and it’s been 24 hours so I can say it: It’s amazing just how much shit by volume the human neck can hold. And that’s all I’ll say about that, other than sorry about not being as active in the comments as usual.
Below the jump is some awesome shit, the opposite from the kind of shit currently filling what was once a functional esophagus. Whatever, I didn’t really like using those vocal cords anyway.