7 Mistakes You’re Making With French Toast

From International Food Quarterly.

Just eating French toast is a big mistake in the first place, if you’re restricted to heart-healthy foods; but let’s assume that your life is not yet completely ruined in that way.

The seven French-toast mistakes:

1. Cooking your French toast like you cook your French fries. Avoid deep-fat-fried food in the morning, except for doughnuts with powdered sugar. Substitute fatty bacon strips for food fried in fat.

2. Refusing to eat French toast because the French didn’t send troops to fight in the Iraq war. This is only a good excuse if you know and can prove that the toast in question was cooked back during the run-up to the war when the French turned up their cowardly noses at all those weapons of mass destruction, or before Saddam was apprehended. You’ll sometimes run into such pieces of toast at the army surplus or at the estate sale of an Iraqi war veteran.

3. Dipping your slice of bread in the French-toast batter and then inserting it into your toaster.

4. Using a whole baguette, dunking it in the batter and sticking it in the oven. A reminder, friend: here in the U.S., we’ve discovered sliced bread. It’s the greatest thing since whatever was the greatest thing before sliced bread. There is a reason the French call bread pain or sometimes pain complet.

5. Using duck eggs in the batter. There is something weird and unAmerican about pulling eggs out from under a female mallard. It could be against the law and if it isn’t, it should be.

6. Eating French toast for dinner. I won’t bore you with another of my rants about IHOP. If you want to help the communists launder their money at this “international” chain of restaurants, go right ahead. Eat pancakes for dinner. But don’t kid yourselves. If the Reds eventually  get their way, you won’t be eating pancakes or French toast for dinner; you’ll be eating Russian borscht.

7. Using French toast in your sex play. I know, I know. I say this about every food except ice cream, jello, and cukes, of course. Maybe you know something about French toast that I don’t. After all, it’s French for a reason. Let me know.

 

What You Don’t Know About Dish Towels

[Headline, Huffington Post, 02/09/12]

1. You never have to wash a dish towel. Why not? Because you are wiping water off clean dishes with it, and that water is effectively washing the towel itself. If your dish towels get dirty, don’t blame the towels!

2. You can use a dish towel as a bath towel but you shouldn’t use a bath towel as a dish towel. This is because you can rub a dish on your bottom, for example, but you ought not rub your bottom on a dish. Wait a minute. Does that make sense?

3. If you are a guy and you want to meet girls at the beach and you take a dish towel out there and spread it out on the sand, instead of a beach towel, hoping to get the “Aw, isn’t that cute” reaction, go home. Stay there.

4. If you are a gal and you want to meet guys at the beach and you take a dish towel out there and spread it out on the sand, instead of a beach towel, hoping to get the “Aw, isn’t that cute” reaction, and you also wear a seriously tiny bikini, and you’re cute, then the size, shape, and color of the dish towel will prove immaterial to your success.

5. In the case of a kitchen fire, knotting together dish towels to use as a rope out the window will get you an “Aw, geez!” reaction when the fire-fighters finally reach you (your remains).

6. On a happier note, disagreements about dish towels and bathroom-guest towels come in at #7 on the list of common reasons for divorce. I believe that guest towels and their use are the real culprit here.

7. You can use a dish towel as an oven mitt, but don’t use an oven mitt as a dish towel. I think a lot about this. It’s a metaphor.

5 Foods You Should Never Eat Again

[Headline, Huffington Post]

1. That big kid’s candy. What were you thinking? He was bound to find out who did it. Was it worth it? You can answer me when they take the wire off your jaw.

2. Whatever it was that gave you food poisoning that time.

3. Rice and beans on a first date.

4. What got you fat.

5. If you have high cholesterol, anything for which you must lick your fingers.

Unexpected New Cheerios Flavor

[Headline in The Huffington Post, 12/27/11]

The unexpected can be a good thing or a bad thing. A flavor can be pleasant, unpleasant, or just plain strange.

I remember putting something in my mouth once – I had to think about it first. I had to decide, is this something I want to do? Is this something that I’m going to regret? So forth. – and the flavor was, like, whoa, what the…?  Is that…?

I couldn’t put my finger on it. The flavor, I mean. This could be a metaphor for life. You think? Suddenly you’re doing something you never figured you’d do. You’re encountering new sensations, but your mind is preoccupied. That’s the variety of life and the confusion of past and present. You’re doing it, but it might not work out the way you expect.

Take Cheerios. You go into Trader Joe’s and there they are, but now they’re Trader Joe O’s. It’s a metaphor for life again. There are twenty-six letters, but one company picks the O and do you see other companies going with As or Bs or what have you? No. It’s all Os. And that’s just in English. The situation in China is much more complex, because you’re not turning a letter into breakfast cereal, you’re doing it to a whole word. It’s like when you pick a major in college, and are then confronted with its corpus, instead of just goofing off watching movies in your dorm room.

So to continue the metaphor, you can savor the taste or you can spew it from without your mouth onto the barren ground. I don’t recommend or not recommend this. Take the ground into account. Take into account the proximity of others and whether you’re at a funeral or a wedding or watching a pole dancer. Like that.

So to continue the metaphor some more, to buy in or not to buy in? You’ve encountered the flavor. Was it a one-off, so to speak? Do you revisit? Do you tweak the situation to change the flavor a little bit, this way or that, but preserve its basic nuances?

Rely on your gut. That’s what I do. Remember, if you pinch your nose shut, it affects your taste.

Ugly Food That Tastes Good: The 12 Biggest Offenders

(Headline in Huffington Post)

1. A potato that looks like my Uncle Ralph. Isn’t it funny how one potato can look like Jesus Christ, but I get stuck with this thing?

2. Any carrot that resembles a penis.

3. Peas that have shriveled just a little, so their skin is wrinkled. It turns them into some kind of metaphor.

4. Fish with the head still on. It might be different if they had eyelids.

5. Whole head of a pig. Who serves these things? Just kings and such at the banquet table? I don’t recall seeing any down in the supermarket meat department.

6. Roadkill that hasn’t been spruced up a little.

7. Anything, like those fish I mentioned, that can look at you.

8. Anything still alive, especially if it tries to walk off.

9. Fried insects. There aren’t many insects that you could call “beautiful.”

10. Green meat.

11. Lardy or lardish desserts, or desserts made by those who are lardy or lardish.

12. “Long pig.”

The Purple diet

I’ve been asked, “If I go on the Purple diet, will I turn purple?”

No. You will turn purple when you die; or at least, your bottom half will. It’s called lividity. But you probably already know that, what with Law and Order and CSI, so forth.

The purpose of the Purple diet is to help you live longer, not to die. This should be obvious.

Note: there are some folks who do look purple, or have a purplish tinge to their complexion, especially after a hard night at the pub or in the factory sewing leather strips together, or, among the very darkest-skinned Africans, when sweaty, in bright moonlight. This is not related directly to diet, any more than a yellow complexion implies that you eat a lot of overcooked corn. Many yellow-skinned folks have never seen corn, or perhaps know only of popcorn, a top American export to cineplexes around the world.

Why eat purple? To not eat non-purple. Have you ever seen a purple doughnut? You have? Don’t eat it. Have you ever seen a purple porterhouse or purple fries? Seriously, don’t eat them if you have, particularly if you fished them out of a dumpster.

What about purple coloring additives? If you go this route, just maintain your current diet and color everything purple. You’ll hate yourself for cheating in this way, and eat less. Or more.

Purple food suggestions: blue/purple potatoes, eggplant, blue/purple beans, berry sorbet, blueberries, some blue corn, purple cabbage, dried plums/prunes, raisins, lavender ice cream, purple peppers, beets, Kalamata viniagrette, purple kale, grape jello, radiccio, purple pole beans, purple cauliflower, Purple Jesus, purple yam cake, cranberry sauce, purple carrots, blue corn meal, taro, purple basil, blueberry catsup, purple asparagus.

Questions: What if my specimens of the above are not quite purple, but more reddish or blueish? What if the vegetable turns green with steaming? Answer: What is color, anyway? Who’s to say that you and I see the same color when we look at something? My left and right eyes see slightly different colors. Listen. Get something purple, cook it if necessary, and then eat it! This is not religion, where you fret about every little commandment. Thou shall not steal. Thou shall not lusteth after the babe next door, who does not need the Purple diet. What she needs is a steady diet, alright, a steady diet of… aw, forget it.

Celebrities who might have tried the Purple diet: Oprah. Kirstie Alley. John Goodman. Al Gore. Gabourey Sidibe.

Do diets work? Not to be a buzz kill and go dark, but if the Purple diet fails you, rest assured that at some point in the future, the ultimate diet – death – will work like a charm.

The Pits Diet

Want to lose weight? I wish you would, if you’re who I think you are, reading this. Look, it’s your health I’m concerned about, not the way you look in those Facebook pictures.

I’ve got this iPhone app that removes 10 to 100 pounds from the photograph of a person, depending upon how you set it, so I can tell you in advance, even before you lose the weight, that that two-piece you like to put on at the lake? Keep the top half and convert the bottom half into three.

“It’s the pits.” No. Pits are good. Do not be concerned by the fact that a fruit with a pit is classified as a “drupe.”

Follow these diet tips for success:

– Do not eat the meat of a pit bull.

– Thoroughly remove the peach or plum or whatever fruit before eating the pit. Haha just kidding.

– If you’re one of my four usual readers, you’re going to need help with the actual eating of food with pits. That help can be found here.

– What to do with the pit? (If you inadvertently swallow it, you will not grow a baby in your stomach. This is also true of semen pardon my French.) Do not flick it, throw it, toss it, hide it, put it in your pocket, or put it on you plate where others will have to look at it. Hide it under a lettuce leaf. Since you’re eating only food with pits, you won’t be forking up that leaf in any case.

– Weight loss: large pits vs small pits. Look, if I tell you to eat three items in the morning and you choose avocados instead of cherries, then just give up. And don’t forget to plant those avocado pits in a sawed-off milk carton.

– You’re probably wondering why pits are like round stones, whereas your armpits are hollows (barring some alarming growth or enlarged node, in which case the pit diet is about to become nugatory for you). There is a truly bizarre diet involving armpits, but it falls outside the scope of this post.

– Train someone in the house, other than yourself, in the Heimlich maneuver. Don’t eat in bed when drowsy.

– It’s OK to grind up the apricot pits and snort or smoke the powder.

Remember, it’s all about health. In 86.5% of cases, losing weight doesn’t improve your appearance. 13% of the time, it actually makes you look worse.

The Classics Diet

Do you secretly want to lose weight, but you’d never admit it because you’re above all that? Diets are anti-intellectual? No diet includes quiche and Birkenstocks? Your spouse, the professor, would never use words like “fat,” “old,” “cow”?

Do you eat with your finger raised? Your pinkie, I mean? Your pinkie finger, I mean?

The Classics Diet is not a diet. It is a way of life. You read the classics, right? Not like those other slobs on your block, who watch TV and drink and go on diets? The Classics Diet is simply another name for what we call “Method Reading.”

Being so smart like you are, you undoubtedly know all about “method acting.” How De Niro gained all that weight? How Brando hung out on the docks? Well, you can do the same thing, Mr. or Ms Smartypants, while you’re sitting there in your beanbag chair reading, yes, wait for it, one of your goddamned precious classics. While you read, you live like the protagonist does. You eat what the protagonist eats. How hard is that to understand?

Monday – You are reading: Ulysses   You are eating: the inner organs of beasts and fowls.

Tuesday – You are reading: Galway Bay   You are eating: not potatoes, that’s for sure.

Wednesday – You are reading: Oliver Twist   You are eating: gruel.

Thursday – You are reading: Dracula   You are eating: bloodsickles.

Friday – You are reading: Black Beauty   You are eating: hay.

You’re not done yet, not if you’re one of those brainiacs with a reading list of great books that you’re working your way through. Keep up the method. You’re no quitter. All the way, to the end of the list. Alternatively, you can eat the books.

Guaranteed Weight Loss: The Straw Diet

We lock a leather mask over your mouth, with a built-in straw. Thus, you can drink, but you can’t eat.

Monday: Already you’re hungry, so you go for some Boost. Drink enough of this stuff and you’ll gain weight, not lose. Fortunately, the straw is designed to block liquids as thick as Boost. You must go for carrot water.

Tuesday: Too hungry. You dip your straw into any liquid that you can find. My God, anything to combat that awful hunger. Don’t worry. The added fifteen pounds of bloat will flush out later.

Wednesday: You discover alcohol. The straw won’t allow bubbles, so beer is out. The good thing about booze is, unless you’re an alcoholic, you’ll pass out before you drink enough to get fat.

Thursday: Hangover! Remember, if you vomit, you’ll suffocate. Worrying about imminent death while fighting your rising gorge is a great way to lose weight.

Friday: Cocaine or heroin through a straw? Of course! Ride the white horse to thin-land. Suck the powder into your mouth and then blow it out through your nose, instead of the other way around.

Wow. How did that week fly by so fast? Look at how your clothes are practically hanging off you. You’re welcome to as many of these Krispy Kremes as you want, once we get the mask off. It takes about an hour.

I Spill the Beans

I  spilled some pinto beans on the kitchen floor this morning. I missed a few when I cleaned them up and my wife later stepped on them, slipped to the floor, and hurt her foot.

“Do that again and it’ll be Beanogeddon,” she said.

“At least it won’t be a Pintapocalypse,” I quipped.

“Beanogeddon would be worse for you.”

“A Pentapocalypse would be a total disaster for both of us. I’m not talking about the revelatory aspects of the word here, just the common meaning that it’s taken on. Meanwhile, Beanogeddon would just be a big fight.”

“A Pentapocalypse would be me falling again and breaking something. Yes, a disaster. Beanogeddon would go more like this.”

“Ow! Hey! Lay off!”

“You’re on Mount Megiddo, Babe. Get those dukes up. It’s the end of the world.”

“Ouch! Stop it! Ok! Ok!”

“Beanogeddon is over,” my wife said. “The good guys won.”