Please Do Not Eat These Foods.

If you have any decency left in your withering bodies, do not seek sustenance here. Go elsewhere. This will not fill your bellies. This will only addle your brains.

Since we're all so connected and the distance between Cyber- and Internal-space is becoming thinner by the day, we all know what the other people are thinking about with the help of a little tool called 'Trending Now.' At least on the Yahoo home page, a litany of terms greet you when you sign in, expressing that these terms are being searched about more than most. Earlier today, I noticed an alarming topic that was, for some reason known only to Transylvanian seafood restaurant owners, 'trending now.' That topic?

Dracula fish.

I don't know what they are. I daren't even click on the link, lest my love of Dracula and fish become enmeshed and, thereby, ruined. And I don't care if "daren't" isn't a true contraction. Darn well should be.

Then I reloaded the page a few hours later in the day. Now trending?

Spaghetti Tacos.

So there's mid-term elections coming up, the MLB playoffs have begun, terrorist plans have just been obtained, a new fuzzy video of Bin Laden is floating around out there, obesity epidemic research is positing new and relevant theories, my sister is turning 38..... and a high percentage of the internet-searching public are looking for information on Dracula Fish and Spaghetti Tacos?

Maybe Wired magazine was right. The Web is Dead. At least British pub owners will have something new to put on their menu for the first time in 1,000 years. ("They're bloody Fish 'n Chips! Get it?")

"Theeeeeey're Bueno!"

Last week I trekked down to Playa del Carmen, just outside of Cancun, for a hometown buddy's wedding. To be sure, much good eats and drinks were consumed. Fresh guacamole topped everything from omelettes to cheese sandwiches. Pork Tacos were made and brought to you pool-side. The Corona flowed like wine. But a highlight of this international gastronomic feast?















So, Tony's south-of-the-border cousin is shilling for Kellogg's too, eh? Take a closer look at his bandanna and you'll see that his name is "Tigre Tono." The sun must have an effect on tiger's physical features, too. Let's compare our renowned American version:

Notice the slight double-chin, the yellowed eyes... the American Tony is apparently chubby and has jaundice. Shame on you Kellogg's of America for furthering the stereotype that U.S. citizens are inactive alcohol-abusers.

Another point of interest is the lack of a shadow on Tigre Tono. Whatsoever does this mean? Is Guillermo del Toro's new book series a hint that Mexicans are not simply stealing Americans' jobs with cheap labor, but another type of blood-suckers altogether??

Oh wait--vampires don't have reflections... right.**


So eat a bowl of Zucaritas today!

**The content on EdibleWrecks has no relationship to the personal or political views of its author.

In Response to a Certain "Lauren"...

So last post I explained ever so carefully how to make your very own Peanut Butter Toast, complete with Nutella and Jam. I hope the Paint picture diagrams helped.

Then some wiseacre out there, with the pseudonymous label "Lauren," had this to say in the comments:

Lauren said...

Ewww! You like PEANUT BUTTER?!?

And so to this "Lauren" I ask: What is that, some kind of sick twisted joke?

Honestly. I don't even understand the words.

Fess up, or risk my Smooth & Creamy wrath.

How To Make Peanut Butter Toast

Step One: Toast your bread. What kind of bread? Good question. NOT Rye. Caraway seeds are tiny little explosions of putridness. Instead, how about a nice 12 Grain? Any Whole Wheat variety is good. For special occasions, I like anything with Oatmeal or Nuts... Today, I use Country Kitchen "Oatnut."

Step One-point-five: Make sure you toast your slice at around Medium-High. Enough to get a nice crisp to things, but nothing too dark. And we're not just warming our bread up here. Toast means it's toasted. Turn that dial up, please.










Step Two: Remove toast from toaster. Don't burn yourself. Patience, geez! Let it sit there for, like, three seconds. No need to be hasty.

Step Three: Begin with a smooth, thin layer of Nutella down the middle, vertically.












Step Three: Smear a good portion of peanut butter over each remaining half, overlapping a tad with the nutella. Now--and this is important--the peanut butter must be natural. No hydrogenated oils, please. Teddy's is a great choice. The Smucker's Natural is actually better than expected. Smooth or Chunky: AYW (as you wish). I'm not entirely without feelings, you know.












Step Four: Fill in the hazelnut-less halves with a smattering of jam. I like blackberry or raspberry (with seeds!). If you're feeling up to it, go for an Apricot. Marmalade is an advanced maneuver... proceed with caution. Only under the most dire of circumstances will I abide by Grape Jelly. Think about the repercussions of your actions for once.












Step Five: Split vertically down the middle, so that each half has a bit of Nutella on each side. Then, dunk in coffee and enjoy. Behold, the finished product!

The salty of the peanuts, the sweetness of the jam, the warmth and creaminess of the Nutella, the subtle crunch of the toasted bread... a more perfect combination of flavor I do not know. Be gentle and kind with this knowledge. Now go, and eat toast.

"That is No Way to..." #1

To the Asian sir on the subway train traveling north yesterday: That is no way to eat a burrito.

The burrito itself looked adequate, above-average even. Good helping of shredded chicken, some black beans, rice with maybe a hint of lime. Nice skein of guacamole. But first was the Bite Size. Whoa, man. The mouth cavity is only so big for a reason. To lunge at a burrito with such ferocity, tearing at it with ripping incisors, goes against all things digestive. I like to eat my food, not destroy it. Now if the burrito had it coming, I understand. But maybe the burrito was just defending its manhood. Maybe the burrito was projecting its own low self-image onto you. Does that give you the right to attack it like that? Does it? Huh?

I've gone off-track.

Here's the point: You can eat a burrito however you wish. That's fine. But what is not fine is eating one while listening to your iPod. Have you ever chewed something with ear buds in? It sounds like you're walking through an underground tunnel with heavy boots on over bubble-wrap. And you're on the train, anyway. Can you really hear your music over the screeching brakes and whooshing noise?

Then he pulls out his flip-phone. With one hand, he's texting back a friend. With the other, he holds the poor foil-wrapped burrito, and collapses his face onto it again.

Listening to your iPod while texting your friend on a subway train taking gigantic bites: That, Asian guy, is no way to eat a burrito.

Where No Oh!s Have Gone Before...

I've been known to employ some nontraditional methods in eating the simplest things. Melted ice cream over cereal? Sure. Oatmeal instead of ground beef in a taco? Why not. Normally, the Ladyfriend Companion grimaces and clenches her stomach in witnessing such acts. But this morning, the ol' LfC went one step beyond even I'm willing to go.

She brewed some coffee. Ate her cereal, the stellar Oh!s (like a large Cheerio with honey-flecked oats and granola stuffed in the middle). Then, in lieu of half-and-half or a splash of 2%, she dropped a few spoonfuls of her cereal-milk into her coffee mug.

I was on the other side of the kitchen when she told me what she was doing.

"Ha, yeah right," I said, thinking she's just mocking my experimental whims.

"No, seriously," she said, and I turned to see her dip a spoon into the cloudy milk and drizzle some into the mug.

"OH!" I was not repeating the name of the cereal. "Oh wow... that's gross, dude."

To my sweet lady: I cannot abide. Drink it separately if you will, but do not taint the miracle that is Coffee with your leftover cereal-dampening fluid.

A Modest Request

So: Just had a thought. I hope my future offspring are not obese. Why? Not for the unhealthiness of it. Not for the social impediments. Not for the potential for low self-esteem. Not for the difficulty in finding tuxes/dresses that fit for their first high school dance.

But because they'd require a higher caloric intake to fully nourish their bodies. Which would require more food. Which means more money spent on food. And frankly, the way things are going, I just don't know if I'll have the income for it.

Is this sick? Honest? Cheap? Fiscally conservative? Thoughts/insults are welcome.

Answers to Your Questions #2

A: Yes, you should combine your breakfast and lunch leftovers and create the ultimate hybrid dessert: The Oatmeal Taco.

Step 1 - Lay out your tortilla of choice. My preference is soft, as it forms around the softness of the primary filling, but I can see how a hard shell might yield unexpectedly positive results, too.

Step 2 - Spread your base. Here, I've chosen Nutella. For me, this takes the place of refried beans, or some other sticky foundation on which to lay the remaining ingredients. Note: You don't have to go overboard; a little hazelnut-chocolate goes a long way.



Step 3 - Additional flavors/textures. I've used small dollops of Crunchy Natural Peanut Butter from Trader Joe's. (For my money, TJ's does the best natural peanut butter on a pure value basis. Not quite the stuff that Teddie's is, but for almost a dollar cheaper, it's tough to argue with the Hawaiian-shirted ones.)




Step 4 - The Oatmeal. And I don't mean any quick 1-minute stuff, or instant sugary packets with dinosaur eggs that reveal little candy-dinosaur pieces once you add milk. I mean real, normal, "slow" cooked Oats. I added raisins and a dash of cinnamon to mine.




Step 5 - The topping. Oatmeal isn't oatmeal without a sprinkling of brown sugar. Think of this as the shredded cheese of the standard taco. Some heap it on there; some add just a wee bit. This is your Oatmeal Taco, so do it up as you please.





Step 6 - Fold it up and nosh away.






Okay, to be honest, I was a tad skeptical of the O.T. The ladyfriend companion was less on the fence. "I'm going to leave before I blow chunks," she said, choosing the slushy mess of a New England sleet-storm to a warm tortilla filled with luscious oats. And yes, at times we use Wayne's World-era jargon in passing. That's for a later discussion.

Sadly for her, she missed out on a surprisingly robust treat. Each flavor rose to the forefront with each subsequent bite, no one element overpowering the whole. The nutella's foundation added a creaminess and underlying tang of hazelnut. The peanut butter's peanuts gave a much-needed crunch to what would otherwise be a one-note texture of varying mush. And the oatmeal itself holds up incredibly well; you get the oaty taste, you feel the smooth ripples of grain and cooked wheat, but the raisins add a brightness that cuts through the many rich flavors on offer. Halfway through, I bit down and crunched into a small pile of brown sugar that had yet to dissolve into the larger filling. It reminded me of my youth, when I'd pack a spoon full of Domino's dark brethren and drop the clump in my mouth whole, allowing the nugget to dissolve. Back in the present: Nary a speck of crumb was left on the plate.



The Oatmeal Taco is well worth discovering for yourself. The collection of familiar tastes in an unfamiliar surrounding tricks your palette into delighting at something in a new way, even if you've enjoyed these flavors, in this same combination, for years. The Oatmeal Taco is many things: Creamy, crunchy, sweet, even--dare I say--sensuous. You owe it to you and your loved ones to give this a shot.

Speaking of shots: Has anyone seen my epinephrine? I think I might be going into anaphylactic shock...

My Answer to Your Question #1

The first in a series of answers to questions not yet posed but brewing out there in the ether....

A: Yes, you should add Reese's Pieces to your pancakes. Wait!!--not in the batter, are you foolish? Drop them in on the uncooked side, while the 'cake is starting to cook in the pan. That way, you can determine ratio and distribution to your liking. The end result is a a smattering of brilliant little melty gems of peanut-butteriness, all surrounded by a tiny crisp layer of candy crunch. And now you have something to do with that leftover box of candy from when you saw Avatar, but couldn't eat the whole thing, what with your mouth agape for 3 hours straight.

Enjoy.

The Border Toward Which I Ran

Taco Bell is the cheesecake of fast-food. It tastes damn good... but only in moderation.

One slice of cheesecake is divine. But: Have you ever eaten a whole cake in one sitting? My old roommate knows what I'm talking about.

Similarly, a soft taco with a layer of Fire sauce is a lovely thing.
So, too, is a warm, gooey Meximelt.
I'm also a fan of the new Beefy 5-layer Burrito.


I mean, look at that thing! Seasoned beef, refried beans, sour cream, melted cheese... and then more nacho cheese sauce around a layer of soft tortilla! All for, holy Sam Shepard, less than 90 cents. I don't care what you say or what your food inclinations are... that's a miracle in your mouth.

The problem isn't eating any one of these individually. The problem, sadly, is what happens when you eat these sequentially, in one sitting, with (yep) small dollops of sour cream from your fridge.

Do you hear that, too? My stomach is spouting obscenities at me. Cover your ears, kiddies. Them be bad words my tummy is rumblin'.