Is it sad that when deciding between studying for a test I have on Tuesday and updating my blog, I chose to...well, you see.
But before the food, I shall talk about "things I didn't eat but are still food related". You like that, right? No? Well, you'll just have to deal. Because. This is my blog. Bwahahahaaa.
Because I'm...you know, weird, I check Magnet's myspace profile a lot. The latest comment puzzled me: "Thanks for the cookies and the beers"...
...OH MY GOD, WERE THOSE MY COOKIES? The ones borne of my sweat and mixing abilities and lack-of-muscle power? Is it too presumptuous to assume that they were my cookies? I mean, it's totally cool if they were. Those cookies had to be shared; I can tell you from experience that eating all of them would've meant a certain doom, in the form of cookie hatred or a stomach ache. Maybe they weren't my cookies. ...Maybe they were my cookies.
...WHO CARES, WHO CARES, DOESN'T MATTER, JUST GONNA TYPE ALL IN CAPS NOW, YES, OKAY.
The Guardian has this little article about Marmite coming in squeezy tubes. This is important stuff, folks. We don't need to save the whales; we need to SAVE THE MARMITE JAR! The squeezy tube shall take over your Marmite! REBEL AGAINST THE SQUEEZY TUBE! But...hey, I have a squeezy tube of Vegemite (uh, that's similar, yes?) and I think it works pretty well. Sure, I dunno what non-squeezy tube Vegemite is, but the stuff that comes out of the tube is pretty...thick. And...um...
Sorry, I wrote that last paragraph just so that I could say "squeezy tube" a lot. I don't get to say "squeezy tube" very often because aside from toothpaste, nothing I own comes in a squeezy tube. Hey, wouldn't it be cool if honey came in a squeezy tube? I mean, nice gourmet honey? I know glass jars are swanky, but a squeezy tube would make my life easier. Then I wouldn't have to spend 5 seconds cleaning a spoon covered in a layer of honey, yeah?
By the way: squeezy tube squeezy tube squeezy tube squeezy tube squeezy tube squeezy tube squeezy tube squeezy tube
This article features a picture of a guy drinking Yakult. The only reason I ever drank Yakult was because I lived in Taiwan and people there drink Yakult. Yakult is a yogurty drink that comes in a bottle that's probably smaller than some species of cockroaches. Anyhoo, the article is about liquid meals. Or something. Is it ironic that even though I suck at chewing (I'm more of a chomp, then swallow person), I'm not a fan of liquids? Not enough effort is involved! Like damn, I just swallowed some pureed fruit concoction when all I had to do was EAT A DAMN PIECE OF FRUIT and masticate it with my own teeth. The only time I just felt like not chewing was that time when I was left to puke over the porcelain throne for a day.
Last article before moving onto the food porn: something about the death of cooking! This last line caught my eye:
And when you consider the appalling by-products of bad food and bad eating habits - widespread obesity, diet related diseases, social malfunction - we should not just count the cost to society, but to ourselves.
The emphasis is mine. Social malfunction. I have to admit, food has made me much more social, and my least social time was when I was a raw foodist and couldn't eat any normal food, and...oh, I think I just proved the point. I was a social anomaly at Vassar College for many reasons (I'm weird), but the "never going out to eat" thing was probably a bad idea. People would ask me if I wanted to go to the dining hall and I'd be like, "Oh no, I've got a stash of bananas in my room."
"Social malfunction"...man, that's a harsh term. It makes me feel like a robot. A rejected robot.
Lastly (yeah, I just said the other thing was last, but this is important): TASTES LIKE LATINO! Dude. Didn't anyone at one point on the Lays marketing team think that "Latino Style" may not have been the best idea? I mean...I get it, but still. Latino = hot peppers and salsa, hot damn!
Yesterday I went to Midtown with Jason (one of the few good friends I made at Vassar) who made a stop in NYC on his way back to school. He wanted to check out St. Patrick's Cathedral, so...we did. And then we were left to roam for food. I chose Chikubu, but alas, Chikubu did not choose me (wow, I feel a Pokemon reference coming on...I'll let it slide). As in, it was closed.
Wise words; we're full of em.
After staring at the many restaurants that line 44th Street between Broadway and...the other avenue, we came across Virgil's Real BBQ. I've never had BBQ in NYC, and if it has "real" in the title, IT MUST BE REAL! Or close to real. So BBQ, we ate.
I just thought that was funny. Or disturbing.
Since Jason is awesome, we decided to split two sandwiches. If you eat with me, be prepared to share your food. (Share it evenly, of course. I'm not gonna take half your sandwich and give nothing in return. What am I, some kind of glutton?...ohh...wait.)
Jason's fried catfish filet sandwich was awesome. Do you see the structure in that baby? It was impressive! Putting two layers of fried catfish on top of tomato and chopped lettuce could result in the catfish smooshing out due to the slippery nature of the tomato or lettuce (hasn't that ever happened to you?), but everything stayed snug in the bun. BUN-SNUG, IT WAS. I've never had a fried catfish sandwich before, so maybe it's my fault for not expecting juicy (really, I was surprised by the moistness), light, tender, crispy, lightly coated fried fish, but I didn't...and it was awesome.
I went with a pulled Carolina pork sandwich with a side of fries. Besides fries, you have the choice of coleslaw and potato salad (as seen in Jason's plate). Of course, I went for the more heart-clogging option. The fries were just alright, but at least earn extra points for obviously being from...real potatoes. That counts for something, yes? Righto.
Ah ha haaaa, pile of meat! Large, dense pile of meat! In wheat! (With feet! And Pete! And "something else that ends in "eat"!) Not having anything to compare this to, I'd say this is a very enjoyable sandwich. I would describe what BBQ sauce tastes like, but...well, I can't. So actually, I wouldn't. And hopefully you already know what it tastes like (kinda sweet, kinda tangy, kinda like bbq sauce, because that's what it is). The pork was uber-tender and sauced, although it could've been a little more moist. It wasn't really juicy, just...sauced. Know what I mean? Despite the tad dryness of the meat, I'd still say this is worth getting. If you like to eat dense piles of meat stacks.
By paying $15 each, we ended up leaving a pretty hefty tip. Our waitress was nice though and the food was satisfying without making us feel like we were going to keel over from pork overdose. Good times.
After our late lunch, we took a quick stroll to Poseidon Bakery on 9th Avenue. I'm too lazy to write anything in depth, so I'll just shove photos in your face.
Poseidon Bakery has a lot of stuff, as you can see. Besides all the sweets, they have savory things, which I ignored. Haha.
I got a flogera (milk, butter, egg custard, sprinkle of nuts and honey) and an afali (pistachio filled pastry, bergamot flavored syrup), which the woman neatly wrapped in saran wrap after drizzling sweet syrup on top and tucking it into a small paper box. Flogera is pretty good. Afali? Not so good. It was very dense with...stuff. At some point while attacking it with my fork and trying to just eat the filo pastry instead of the dense stuff inside, I realized, "Hey, I don't have to finish the whole thing!" An amazing revelation, eh?
Today I stayed in my room all day and lived off more throwaways from Bouchon Bakery that Sarah hand-delivered to my room. Sweet. I'm the epitome of laziness.