You can cure meat, but you can’t cure cancer

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Whether you’re a vegetarian who sticks to French fries and fake meat or a cow-hugging locavore, your mutual contempt of the industrial meat processing industry has lead you astray. According to the experts, opting for a veggie dog or an “all natural, local, organic” one makes no difference to our feared, ubiquitous, slow killer, cancer. Yes, indeed. Our food concerns just got more complicated. Turns out our healthier, greener and all-around-better options that the savvy (aka picky aka bourgie, call us what you will) have chosen are just as bad, if not worse when it comes to cancer causing preservatives that make cured meat (fake or real) taste so damn good.  The funny part is that the it’s not even the meat industry that’s confused you; it’s the misleading USDA labeling laws.  The solution? No, not pinching a pretty penny and opting for the Oscar Meyer crap but avoidance. Or moderation. If the nitrites won’t kill you, the saturated fat and sodium might. Next time, try grilling a pineapple or a peach instead.

Jello Shots

As I was enjoying my Sunday afternoon in the park, a lovely vendor came over to offer just about the perfect thing on a hot summer day: jello shots. And I’m not talking about the electric blue concoction served between two sorority sister boobs. I had a lemon basil vodka jello shot with fresh mint. She also had absinthe flavor and a 192 proof cherry bomb. Unlike New Orleans where drinking outdoors is legal and absolutely the best part about the fun times had by all, doing so in NYC is still illegal. Rumor does have it that public drinking will be allowed in the confines of Bryant Park during the outdoor movie screenings. But back to the Jello Shot Girl. Her brilliance didn’t just lie in her opportune appearance – that time in a lazy day when you are deciding between coffee (too far), beer (requires leaving the outdoors) or staying put (boring). Her choices were perfect for our bourgie sensibilities (even if no one actually likes absinthe, it’s still so damn cool) and her discretion was key. She wasn’t loud like the empanada guy or dressed in neon like the other jello shot girls. She was friendly, quick with her schpiel and perfectly affordable. Here’s to eating my booze! L’chaim!

Holy shit(burger)!

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Seriously, the Japanese are nuts! They took human poop and made a burger that costs 20 times more than a premium meat burger.  Where it lacks in appeal, it makes up in protein.  

Stew With Your Girlfriend. Literally.

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The NYTimes recently ran a feature on the crusty punks of Tomkins Square Park, lamenting their no-show because apparently they are a harbinger of spring like, say, sunshine and rainbows. I can’t say I completely agree but who’s to say. Though, they do have some strange food proclivities since apparently some of them are also psycho killers who make stew out of (ex) girlfriend’s parts.  Check this out!!!!

Some Eat to Remember, Some Eat to Forget

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It’s probably safe to say that you notice what you wear, what shampoo you use and what bedfellows you keep (mostly). Apparently, though, you have no time to notice what you eat for lunch. And by scarfing down street meat and random items in plastic containers from the deli, you are giving yourself food amnesia and possibly heartburn. And as this study discussed in NY Mag confirms, this no-mind-paid ‘tude of yours is causing you to overeat. In a nutshell, the study took subjects, fed them all a ham sandwich, chips and drink. Some participants were asked to read a paper, others ate all by their lonesome and the third group listened to a riveting audio about the texture, color and taste of their ham. When presented with extra desert afterwards, the folks with audio instruction to not neglect their ham ate way less. The point about lunch is this: you don’t have to love it, but just don’t ignore it completely.

Leint: –verb To urinate in an alcoholic beverage to increase its strength (18th century term)

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image by Tod Seelie

On this fine Memorial Day, we find ourselves in New Orleans, the birthplace, some say, of the cocktail. According to one popular story, a certain Monsieur Antoine Peychaud held an apothecary in the French Quarter in the 1830s where he sold his homemade medicinal bitters. He quickly realized, as any descent French man would, that the bitters’ beneficial effects were improved by Cognac, sugar and water. He measured the ingredients in an eggcup, “coquetier” in French, thus creating the first cocktail. 

According to his descendant, the aptly crowned “spirit cognoscenti” and founder of the New Orleans Museum of the American Cocktail, Phil Greene, the word “cocktail” appeared in print well before Paychaud’s shop. He did, however, invent the Sazerac, a real classic worthy of its legend. Poor Peychaud would be turning in his grave if he had word of our modern abominations such as the spinster classic, the Cosmo, or the date rape favorite, the Long Island Iced Tea. Don’t leint my beer, bro. Cheers!

Here’s the original Sazerac recipe, according to the Museum of the American Cocktail:
Chill a small rocks glass filled with ice, then empty the ice into a second glass. In the first glass, add 1 cube of sugar, 1 teaspoon of water, and 2 dashes of Peychaud’s bitters.
Muddle together until sugar dissolves (alternatively, use simple syrup instead of a sugar cube and water). Add 3 ounces rye whiskey and stir. Pour mixture into the ice-filled glass. Pour a teaspoon of absinthe into the empty glass, and twirl it around well to coat the inside of the glass, then pour out any absinthe that remains in the bottom.
Strain the main mixture out of the ice-filled glass into the absinthe-coated glass. Garnish with a twist of lemon peel.

The Fat and the Furry-ous

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For our first installment of “The Fat and the Furry-ous,” a regular column in which we present to you obese animals, here’s Manny!

Sleeping tiger, hidden sandwich.  Nam, nam, nam. 

Apocalypse, the rapture and a lunchtime poll

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"Check this out.  You win five million dollars from the Publisher’s Sweepstakes, and the same day that the big Ed guy gives you the check, aliens land on the earth and say they’re going to blow up the world in two days." NO, NO, NO. Actually, it’s May 21, 2011, and the Rapture is upon us, along with lunchtime, what do you do? And more importantly, what will you be drinking? Bourbon and Holy Water??? Baby Tears and Vodka??

Bored of Breast Milk Ice Cream?

Try colostrum ice cream!  JK. That’s gross, you sicko.  

Dead baby cake!


Why U No Drunk Now?

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I ask myself that question pretty much at the end of every day. If you’re of Asian, you know exactly why u no drunk now. You get ARFed and it sucks. Well, turns out the same gene that makes you a math genius also makes you red faced and sickly drunk. Your body breaks down alcohol by converting the ethanol (the alcohol you ingest) into acetaldehyde and then into acetic acid, which can then be converted to coenzyme A and it’s this bad boy that enters a cycle that breaks it down to energy (booze has 7 calories per gram). Anyway, the middle man, acetaldehyde is poisonous to your body and a it’s a known carcinogen. Normal people turn ethanol into acetaldehyde and then to acetic acid so quickly that acetaldehyde doesn’t actually linger in your body. But ARF-prone asians have an enzyme that turns this ethanol to acetaldehyde really fast but not the enzyme that then turns it into acetic acid. So the acetaldehyde lingers in their bodies, turning them red-faced, sick and thoroughly unhappy.

And that, my asian friends,is probably why you’re not drunk now.