I signed up for a pork Google alert. While the beef alert sent all kinds of alarmist bits about E. coli contamination and self-immolating beef protesters, the pork news tends to consist fawning love letters to the glories of delicious pork. Pigs today, they're tastier! Quì si magnifica il porco! Death-defying pig roast experience and NONE FOR YOU!
Sure, I miss pork already. Winnie invited me over for brunch this weekend:
WINNIE: You're not eating pork now, right?
ME: [sheepish] Well, yeah.
WINNIE: Good. 'Cause I was going to put chorizo in the grits --
ME: Oh, you could have put it in. I would have eaten around it.
WINNIE: But you know I put pork in everything! I made sure there were at least three things you could eat.
And with that, I have become the apologetic special needs person at the dinner party. SAD. I suppose it means that it's my duty to host, so I can be in control of the menu. I owe Winnie, like, 80 meals now.
****
Of the 3 dollar items profiled in the Robs' Cheap Eats list, only one (the classic slice) is non-red meat and okay for me to eat. How can red meat be so cheap if it takes so many kcals to produce?
Red meat dishes that most intrigued me off their always comprehensive list:
*I spent Saturday longingly ogling my friend's weisswurst at Bohemian Hall and Beer Garden in Astoria. (Yes, I know how that sounds.) Anyway, when did that place become a totally homogenous, claustrophobic frat party? It was all mirrored Ray-Bans, ironic t-shirts from Urban Outfitters and uni-boob tube dresses. This big group of foreskins was actually fake double-dutch jump-roping. Like two white guys pretending to swing ropes around. But without ropes. While cheering all of these people jumping through their non-existent ropes. And you just know they've probably never seen double-dutch in real life and would never, ever have the balls to pull such a stunt after too many Coronas at Habana Outpost in Fort Greene. This one chick was doing the awkward, I-need-you-to-look-at-me-because-my-daddy-didn't-love-me-enough, drunk-girl nasty dance up on one of the fake jump-rope slinger-dood's jock while he pushed her away. She was one pirouette away from puking. It was a hot mess.
Sure, I miss pork already. Winnie invited me over for brunch this weekend:
WINNIE: You're not eating pork now, right?
ME: [sheepish] Well, yeah.
WINNIE: Good. 'Cause I was going to put chorizo in the grits --
ME: Oh, you could have put it in. I would have eaten around it.
WINNIE: But you know I put pork in everything! I made sure there were at least three things you could eat.
And with that, I have become the apologetic special needs person at the dinner party. SAD. I suppose it means that it's my duty to host, so I can be in control of the menu. I owe Winnie, like, 80 meals now.
****
Of the 3 dollar items profiled in the Robs' Cheap Eats list, only one (the classic slice) is non-red meat and okay for me to eat. How can red meat be so cheap if it takes so many kcals to produce?
Red meat dishes that most intrigued me off their always comprehensive list:
- Ka moo nam dang at Dee Thai Restaurant in Sunnyside
- Isaan-style sour sausage at Poodam's in Astoria
- All of the ramens
- Grilled bratwurst from Radegast*
*I spent Saturday longingly ogling my friend's weisswurst at Bohemian Hall and Beer Garden in Astoria. (Yes, I know how that sounds.) Anyway, when did that place become a totally homogenous, claustrophobic frat party? It was all mirrored Ray-Bans, ironic t-shirts from Urban Outfitters and uni-boob tube dresses. This big group of foreskins was actually fake double-dutch jump-roping. Like two white guys pretending to swing ropes around. But without ropes. While cheering all of these people jumping through their non-existent ropes. And you just know they've probably never seen double-dutch in real life and would never, ever have the balls to pull such a stunt after too many Coronas at Habana Outpost in Fort Greene. This one chick was doing the awkward, I-need-you-to-look-at-me-because-my-daddy-didn't-love-me-enough, drunk-girl nasty dance up on one of the fake jump-rope slinger-dood's jock while he pushed her away. She was one pirouette away from puking. It was a hot mess.
You owe me no such thing.
Also: you know how much I admire the AP, but it frankly makes me a little sad to think that we might never share some braised pork shoulder or grilled 'wurst ever again.
Never say never!
HA! your description of those dorkos is perfect. i should have thrown some sauerkraut (had to look up the spelling on that one) at them.
Okay. That just made me laugh out loud. I've never even been to Astoria, but... well I can imagine the entire scene. You are hilarious, Ganda.
"I-need-you-to-look-at-me-because-my-daddy-didn't-love-me-enough, drunk-girl nasty dance." Genius.
I'm glad you know what I mean. It's like, take it off the dance floor and into your therapist's office.
that is hilarious- ive only been once this year but had an eerily similar experience