Filtering by Tag: FOOD
Poke
The best poke bowl in the San Fernando Valley is at Toro Sushi Poke House. A+++
Sunday Brunch
Idle Hour. North Hollywood. Sunday brunch. A "programmatic building" in the shape of a barrel.
Damn
I saw this fried ice cream truck tonight and didn't try it. Dammit. Next time.
Weight
I've lost some weight lately, over the last few months, which is a positive. Most recently, I was able to fit back into these camo pants. They're from The Gap and sit low and fit the leg tightly. I had to go meet some people I knew at a bar, so I wore these pants with some black heels with straps around the ankle. Oddly, I can't remember what shirt I wore. I tried on several before deciding. I think I wore a top I got years ago in Texas. If you keep things around long enough, they come back to you, apparently. As for the weight, that's due to a membership at a gym, doing Pilates, and walking. And not eating bread. Or, you know, cake. Mostly.
Vegetarians Need Not Apply
The editor of this magazine and I talked about me writing something for the magazine, and while that didn't work out, I was excited to see it on the newsstand. I love the title -- CARNIVORE -- and I love the cover: the chef's coat, the rifle in hand, the slab of raw meat. It's all very visceral. This magazine is for you if you enjoy hunting, you enjoy eating what you hunt, and you want to join the call to arms of the FIELD TO TABLE REVOLUTION. Also: you can learn how to make a wild boar patty melt, and who hasn't been pining for a boar melt lately?
Just Eat It
Carl's Jr. is giving up boobs and butts for burgers and buns! What is the world coming to?
From my latest at Forbes:
In an interview with USA Today, Andrew Puzder, the former CEO of CKE Restaurants Holdings, which owns Carl's Jr. and Hardee's, who withdrew his name from consideration for U.S. Labor Secretary in the Trump administration, took a je ne regrette rien stance on the old, oversexed way of hawking Carl's Jr. burgers, stating: "We don't have anything to be ashamed of."
What I'm Watching
Yum
Sex Dust
This Is Sausage Party
What's for Lunch?
[via Namilia]
Eat It, Wear It, Write It
Spoiler alert: The best burger in America is not the best burger in America | Photo credit: Susannah Breslin
"Flogging the Freelancer" is a blog post a day on freelancing in the gig economy. Browse the archives here.
The other day I wrote about undertaking in medias res journalism. On Friday, I posted that piece on my Forbes blog: "I Tried the Best Burger in America." I'd say I wrote about 80% of that post on my iPhone while I was sitting at the bar in the restaurant. Then I added in some details, cut some stuff, and smoothed some sentences before uploading it.
Here's what worked:
It helped me focus on the narrative
And that, of course, was the moment at which the doors opened, and we rushed inside like the pack of carnivores that we were.
It helped me focus on the details
At the grill, a young woman with a face like a sphynx started laying out thick bacon slabs and perfectly formed burgers.
It helped me focus on how I felt
At Au Cheval, one doesnβt so much eat oneβs burger as attack it.
You can connect with me on Twitter, Instagram, and LinkedIn, and you can email me here.
Can I Have Another?
My favorite part of "Is This Burger Obscene?" is the comment: "Obscene and immoral is right, and nothing to be proud of having eaten. Disgusting: you and the burger."
I'm disgusting, that's right!
"I ate half the burger at a high rate of speed. Iβve never smoked crack, but this, I imagined, is what smoking crack is like. Youβre barely coming off your high when you realize what you really want in life is more crack."
Some Stuff I Left Out Of The Donut Burger
I ate a donut burger.
Here's what I didn't write about it:
1. I debated whether to spell it "dougnut" or "donut."
2. The walls were decorated with airplane themes: propellers, maps to make an airplane, paintings of planes.
3. The burger arrived without tomato or lettuce, because wtf would you need tomato and lettuce?
4. It was good.
5. I didn't eat all of it.
6. There's no relationship between 4 and 5.
7. I wouldn't call the donut milkshake a disappointment, but it felt like what happened was the sugar part went into the milkshake part, and then you had a milkshake with dough balls in it.
8. There were two vacuuming incidents.
9. The owner was in the back cooking burgers.
10. It was so hot outside. So hot. Really hot.
Buy THE TUMOR! "This is one of the weirdest, smartest, most disturbing things you will read this year."
I'm Back at Forbes
Don't choke on a frog leg bone, kid. (Photo credit: Susannah Breslin)
For three years, I blogged at Forbes. (You can visit my blog here.) Initially, the blog was called Pink Slipped, and I started it because I'd gotten downsized from my last job. For a while, I wrote about freelancing, and getting gigs, and making money. Eventually, I decided I wanted to pick a more rigorous beat, and I renamed the blog Sin Inc and started covering vice. By early 2014, though, I decided I'd done enough and left. Not long after, I started to miss it. I missed the beat, the adventures, the trips to gun shows and porn conventions. So, last week, when I was in New York, I ended up talking to an editor there, and now I'm back. Thanks for allowing me to return, Forbes. When I started blogging for Forbes in 2011, I believe there were no more than a couple hundred contributors (which is the Forbes moniker for bloggers), and I believe there are now something like 1,500. The pay model has been tweaked, and what you can do and upload has grown more sophisticated. I like writing for Forbes for a few different reasons: the autonomy, the brand, the fact that it makes me stretch a bit to think about how things work. At Forbes, you're compensated by how much traffic you bring to your blog, and there are some new challenges in that regard. Hopefully, I'll meet them. I'll be covering a swath of things that I like to think of as aspirational sin. That'll include sex, guns, drugs, drinking, gambling, and weirdly over-the-top decadent food items. My first post is on a pizza that I ate: it was topped with python, alligator, and frog legs. It was quite a feast. So, would you pay $45 for this pizza?
Buy THE TUMOR! "This is one of the weirdest, smartest, most disturbing things you will read this year."
How Much I Got Paid: #9
Title: "Blood Sacrifice"
Publication: The Billfold
Date: May 4, 2015
Word count: 1,246
Payment: $30
Notes: I haven't done a "How Much I Got Paid" in a while. I was surprised to see that I'd done eight of them, and that the last one I did was in August of 2014. In any case, I've got some catching up to do. Today's installment in this series -- in which I consider a piece of freelance work I did and how much I got paid to do it -- we're taking a look at a personal essay I wrote that ran this week on The Billfold, "Blood Sacrifice." In April, I had the amazing opportunity to eat at Next. Suffice to say, dinner there runs you $350. As with my previous Grant Achatz-borne experience (see: "The Best Drink I Ever Had") at Aviary, I found the entire event to be transformative, moving, and awesome. So, when I got home, I decided I'd write about it. I pitched the story idea I had to a dozen places, including The New York Times, Aeon, Matter, The Atlantic, Chicago Magazine, Esquire, The New Yorker, Harper's Bazaar, The Hairpin, Vogue, The Awl, and The Billfold. Because most editors are worthless fucking shitbags who are too busy jacking off or reapplying lipstick to do their jobs, most didn't even respond to pass, and the lone interested party was The Billfold. Luckily, I like The Billfold. And not only do I like The Billfold, I read it. (As a sidenote, I have this weird affection for the fact that the link to their next pages reads "There's more to read, if you want!" Endearing.) In any case, I heard back from Mike Dang, who edits the site. He's a nice guy. "Definitely interested in this and would love to work with you," Dang replied. Great! "Weβd be able to pay $30 for the essay." Ooh, that smarts. That is some horrendous pay. Of course, I wasn't expecting much, but that was just painful. Anyway! Whatever. They wanted the piece, and I wanted to write it. I think it took about two or three hours to do it. I like the way it came out. The part about Ouroboros is my favorite part.
Conclusion: You are what you eat. (You are not what you are paid.)
Buy THE TUMOR: "This is one of the weirdest, smartest, most disturbing things you will read this year."
My Bloody Sacrifice
I've got a new personal essay up, this one on The Billfold: "Blood Sacrifice."
I fantasized that if I went, on the night that I was there, by some strange coincidence, Achatz would be there. Achatz, I knew, had had cancer, too, and, in my daydream, Achatz would come by the table, and I would motion to him, and he would bend down low, and I would tell him, in a murmuring voice, that I had had cancer, and I knew that he had had cancer, too. He would smile knowingly at me, and I would smile knowingly at him, and then he would disappear into the kitchen, and he would emerge with a plate of something that looked like a tumor splattered across porcelain, and I would eat it, and whatever it was made of (rhubarb? venison? something else entirely?), it would be delicious, and I would have eaten the tumor that had tried to eat me, metaphorically, of course, and the cycle of life would close upon itself, completing itself, like Ouroboros with his tail in his mouth rolling down a street like a wheel.
Buy THE TUMOR: "This is one of the weirdest, smartest, most disturbing things you will read this year."
Happy V Day
What's for Dinner
Image credit: @raisedbythewolvesau via This Isn't Happiness