Schwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa….
Just say it….exhale and say Schwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa….
Your pussy kinda unclasps for a minute doesn’t it?
Schwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa……

Michael Carlson….Schwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa… I wish he’d set up shop in my garage. But I live in Rockford.

We started calling two months ahead of time. We couldn’t even get the “go fuck yourself, you suck” message but we were only worthy of the ‘mailbox is full.’
Finally, we got the call. I felt like some young lady was eager to accept my sperm for a sterile family.
And to Schwa we went….

So while we were drinking our birthday wine, Carlson slipped us a culinary mickey including a quail egg ravioli that was so lush and delicious I didn’t’ want to poke it with my fork. It was shimmery and glimmery and eewey and gooey that all I personally wanted to put it in my pocket and set it on my windowpane.

Turnbladd was turning thirty-nine. We were all in denial that any of us could possibly be so old and then her boyfriend pulled out a magnum of Lafite Rothschild 1970. It almost made Weapons of Mass Destruction seem okay.
And Michael brought us jellyfish noodles served as Pad Thai which made my ovaries clap and my sphincter clasp, but I don’t have ovaries and then without ordering came this little quail-egg ravioli topped with white tuffles…we all just sat for a moment…tears came down my face like John Ashcroft when he sings “The Eagle Flies.”

As we cried and hogged, came are favorite entrée or at least mine. Gut meat. Sweetbreads with cardamom marshmallows that were so fucking good I felt like dry humping my chair. I just knew it wouldn’t be socially appropriate.

Our winters are long, our politics are corrupt but we put a black man in the WHITE house and we’re taking the culinary crown too.

Peas out….

I read a great article in Food & Wine about a new restaurant opening up in San Francisco called A16. The restaurant only stocks and serves Southern Italian wines. Borderline sacrilege with Napa only 45 minutes up the street. Evidently, Southern Italian wine has come a long way from what it used to be. Headaches and a big jug with a juice-like liquid containing twigs and bark was normally associated with the region.

After reading the article, I put the Southern Italians on my list to look into. Accidentally, I picked one out at Giant Eagle of all places. I was just looking for some inexpensive white to cook with when I grabbed a bottle that cost a whopping $7.99. It was called MandraRossa and the type is Fiano similar in my opinion to a Sauvignon Blanc. …continue reading MandraRossa Fiano

When posturing as an authority, self-criticism is about as palatable as a mouthful of psilocybin mushrooms. Newly anointed ‘food guy,’ I drew the preposterous conclusion that my own skills were far superior to most professionals. Well, I’m a jackass. I’m not sure from where the arrogance came. …continue reading Four Cheese Risotto

They came from culinary epicenters such as Manhattan, New Orleans, San Francisco and Los Angeles but when the blue ribbon was awarded, it was the Cleveland Westsider who trotted away victorious. Chef Michael Symon of Lola and Lolita (and inevitably soon to be more) beat Chef John Besh to become the next Iron Chef with Cat Cora, Bobby Flay, Masaharu Morimoto and maybe or maybe not Mario Batali. …continue reading And His Cuisine Reigned Supreme