Man, I cannot WAIT for that new Howie Mandel Candid Camera-Punk'd hybrid show, can you? It is going to be off the fucking hook.
Whoa, sorry! Where did that come from? TV rots your brains, kids. Also, stay away from crack.
A while ago I put up a little poll asking you, my trustworthy readers, to vote on what new cookbook I should buy with my hard-earned Amazon kickbacks referral fees. Hot Sour Salty Sweet initially looked like it was going to sweep, but The Splendid Table made a last minute surge to tie things up, leaving me with the ...
I think you all should know that I just saw a commercial for Pizza Hut's new product, the "PANnormous Pizza." Which leads me to believe that there is some kind of law of thermodynamics stating that as Apple devices grow ever smaller, franchise pizza products must grow proportionally larger.*
None of that has anything to do with these warm lemon pudding cakes from Baking at Home with The Culinary Institute of America. Which apparently would rather have you pay $30,000 to attend their baking and pastry program than actually bake at home, because this recipe? Kind of sucked.
*Exhibit B: The ...
Tune in tonight as the cheftestants attempt to not destroy Gail's bridal shower. Way to get yourself a freebie there, Simmons. I'm sure everything will turn out fine.
See you after the jump!
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You can't go wrong with the Barefoot Contessa, you just can't; and that Charlie Palmer can whip up a mean citrusy Asian sauce.
Unfortunately, you can go hella wrong with bipolar disorder. You may have noticed a lack of recipe posts and an upswing in bullshitty posts, and it's because things are just weird and unstable around here. Y'all are awesome for getting into the non-foodie posts too, but don't think I haven't noticed and don't want things to get back to normal around here.
Tonight is not the night that will happen, though: it's late, and actively working to ...
Are you ready for Rocco DiSpirito and his frozen-Italian-food-shilling, preternaturally smooth and unlined face? I'm not! But join me here anyway.
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We were going to be hosting Thanksgiving at our place this year, and believe me when I say that it would have been a Smackdown of epic proportions that would have taken weeks - nay, months - to properly write up. But then, unbeknownst to us, more people were invited than our apartment can comfortably (or even uncomfortably) hold, and my brain started mis-firing again. Ergo, we are in North Carolina where there are chefs and chefs-in-training bustling about the kitchen and I don't have to do anything but take pictures and write and eat. And eat. And eat.
And I? ...
T-minus one hour. There will be cooking. There will probably be some kind of Thanksgiving-in-July thing. There will be Foo Fighters, which makes total sense. We may finally figure out who Melissa is. Or, you know, not.
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And that includes eating Sticky Toffee Pudding for dinner. Which I just did, and I could not possibly be less sorry. In fact, I'm feeling so magnanimous after eating it that I'm willing to overlook the ridiculous length of this book's title AND the fact that (as listed on Amazon) it has TWO COLONS: Desserts by the Yard: From Brooklyn to Beverly Hills: Recipes from the Sweetest Life Ever, by Sherry Yard (GET IT?), official pastry chef of Wolfgang Puck's Spago empire.
I Wonder: Are all the colons necessary?: A grammatical conundrum: That I can top: Suck on that.
Wow, ...
Thank god for Cheap Ass Monday, which I predict will soon become "Cheap Ass Every Damn Day" because the hourly rates of New York City psychiatrists are INSANE. Nationally known expert, schmexpert; I'll need another drug just to counteract the shock of the bills. I've totally gone down the wrong path in life: I should have become a psychiatrist. Based on the hourly rate of the guy I'm seeing for a second opinion this Friday, I could see four patients a week and still be making hundreds more than I do in my current job. It's too bad you have ...