Scowl, Nu?

I have always been a big fan of restaurant reviews and food sections, being as that I also am a big fan of food and eating. Since there were more restaurants in San Francisco than you could shake a stick at, there was always an abundance of well-written and varied reviews of said eateries. Sadly, Hartford does not hold claim to being any sort of culinary mecca. As a matter of fact, last week the Advocate (the area's free weekly newspaper that is lacking in every way possible), the Hartford Business Journal (the area's, well, journal of business) and the Hartford Courant (Connecticut's main newspaper) all wrote reviews of the same place: Ichiban, which serves Japanese and Korean food. Ichiban isn't even a new restaurant, but merely an old restaurant that moved to the other side of town and took refuge in an abandoned Friendly's. So, this everyone reviewing the same place thing: weird coincidence or planned side-by-side compare and contrast exercise for Janet's amusement?

Let's just say this: the Hartford Courant review was thorough, honest and intelligently written. That said, I will now say this: to Judy and Rick Lunt of the Advocate and Stacey Webb of the Business Journal: why must you ruin my Subway Spicy Italian sandwich with everything on it, even hot peppers, by not only thinking with such ignorance and general hickishness, but actually typing it onto a piece of paper and having it published?

I'll start with the Business Journal review, as that one did not raise my hackles as much as the Advocate review did, and come to think of it, annoyed me for different reasons. Now, one would think that if you're going to make any portion of your living from writing restaurant reviews, or even if you're not making any money and simply like the idea of eating food and then writing about it, in any case, one would think that you are a person or persons very interested in food and food-related topics, wouldn't one? Wouldn't you imagine that your average restaurant/food reviewer would have a grand selection of cookbooks and books regarding the foods of many lands, and would have the Food Network marked as one of his or her "Favorites" on the remote?

Yes, yes you would, and you probably wouldn't think that they would say something like the following when writing about the Korean Stone Pot Bibim-Bap (my asides are in italics): "Again, a large cast-iron pot arrives with a filling based on sticky sizzling rice. The rice is combined with ground beef, carrots, zucchini, as well as a variety of Asian vegetables." (translation: what the hell were those green and white things?) "Surprisingly, they place a raw egg on top of this whole concoction." (the very word concoction indicates that she's finding herself not too fond of this strange, otherworldy, alien dish from a faraway universe) "I must admit, I am very leery of raw eggs and though this is considered to be authentically prepared, I quickly remove it." This is the sentence that pissed me off the most. First of all, enough with the whole raw eggs will kill you thing. While I would never wish salmonella on anyone, and know that people have contracted it from poorly-kept eggs, how many eggs do you think carry the salmonella virus? I'll tell you: only 1 out of every 20,000 eggs! The likelihood of your finding an infected egg is about 0.005% (five one-thousandths of one percent!) And, if the egg does contain the organism, the numbers in a freshly laid egg will be small and, if properly refrigerated, will not multiply enough to cause illness in a healthy person! Ha-ha!

Now that we've gotten the misconceptions about eggs and egg safety out of the way, let's talk about the other things that got stuck in my craw about the egg sentences. One word: "surprisingly." After mentioning authenticity twice in the review ("Everything is authentic", "…authentically prepared…") why is it surprising to her that there would be a raw egg on top of this Korean dish? Is it because we are in the United States, where everything is to be prepared authentically, but not too authentically, lest we let anyone experience the real way that a Korean meal should be served? Another word: "quickly." Interesting how she not only has to let us know that she will never, ever touch a raw egg, no, no, yuck, she feels that it is necessary to tell us that not only did she remove it from her dish, she QUICKLY removed it. Translation: "I think I may remember hearing something about only one in 20,000 eggs carrying the salmonella virus, but I'll be damned if I'll take my chances at a dirty Oriental restaurant, I mean, who knows what kind of health standards these people are used to anyway, right? Do they even have refrigerators in Korea?"

My web-based rebuttal: the Korean Stone Pot Bibim-Bap comes with a raw egg on top because it is served in an unbelievably hot sizzling pot, thus enabling you to stir the egg into the rest of the ingredients where it will actually cook! No more icky raw egg! It's kind of like fried rice – you know fried rice, don't you? Yes, that's right, it is what you order to go with your egg roll and chop suey! Now, if you had ordered the regular Bibim-Bap, sans unbelievably hot sizzling pot, you would have gotten a fried egg on top instead of a RAW one. How's that for egg safety, huh? Let's hear it for authenticity! Yay! Next week: Chili's Bar and Grill for some authentic Mexican Fa-ji-tas!

I'm not even going to try to figure out what the hell freeze-fried anchovies are, but according to her, they supposedly came with the dish.

The very same week, the restaurant reviewers of the Hartford Advocate also reviewed Ichiban. The reviewers, Rick and Judy Lunt, far surpassed Stacey Webb in their ignorance, trying so badly to be "hip" and "now" but failing so, so miserably. I'll abstain from making any comments about their comparison between beers of the world, stating that "Sapporo…(is) more like a Heineken than a Guiness (sic)" (when in reality it is NOTHING like a Guinness, since Guinness is a STOUT, and in no way, shape or form even remotely resembles a Sapporo.) I won't even say anything about their weird prediction that it would be a good meal because they got to use better-than-average chopsticks, rather than the "flimsy, square ones so typically found in substandard Chinese restaurants." What really chapped my ass about this review was the gross misinformation found within it. Again, you're food reviewers. Whether you do this part-time or full-time or even just once, Jesus Christ, could you pick up a reference book or something once in a while just to check your facts? Or do you think that just because you and the rest of your backwater Connecticut pseudo-alternayuppie friends agree on something that it is, in fact, correct?

Take, for example, their definition on sushi, something that happens to be a passion of mine, therefore angering me all the more to read the following drivel (my sarcastic barbs are in italics):

"Although sushi is the overall term many people use to refer to this kind of eating in general, (many STUPID people, I guess, as the term would be describing the food itself not the "kind of eating," whatever the hell that is.) sushi is actually just the sweetened pickled rice. (wrong.) The fish is sashimi. (wrong again!) And when you wrap the two together usually with nori (seaweed paper), you get sushi. (Wrong yet again, you flaming idiot.)

Are you happy, Lunts? Now the entire Advocate-reading public of the Hartford area which, for the most part, needs all the help they can get when it comes to new culture, has been force-fed the stupid-flaming-idiot definition of sushi. I, being a person who is interested in food, especially Japanese food, happen to have several books on the subject (hint-hint, so-called food reviewers), so just for kicks I flipped through one to see just how far off the mark Rick and Judy were in their assessment. Let's partake in a little bit of true or false, shall we? Just so I feel better.

1. Rick and Judy say: "sushi is actually just the sweetened pickled rice." True or False? False. ACTUALLY, actually, the rice is called sushi-meshi, and although it is seasoned with sugar, salt and vinegar, I wouldn't call it "pickled."

2. Rick and Judy say: "The fish is sashimi." Shut up. The fish that goes on top of the rice is called the neta. Sashimi is entirely different cuts of fish served alone, with no rice, often as an hors d'oeuvre with drinks at the beginning of a meal at a sushi-ya (sushi restaurant.)

3. Rick and Judy say: "when you put the two together, you get sushi." Please. When you put the NETA (NOT the sashimi) on top of the SUSHI-MESHI or sushi rice, you get nigirizushi, also known as nigiri, which most people call sushi.

So, then. The moral of our story is: GET A CLUE ABOUT FOOD BEFORE YOU START REVIEWING IT, PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! Oh, and Judy? Next time, don't gobble up the pickled ginger in lieu of dessert, it's for cleansing the palate between pieces of fish, 'kay?

Yesterday, I made one of the greatest mistakes of my life.

Ok, that's a tad dramatic… but I did make one of the most regrettable mistakes since I've graduated from college… and it was something that I could have easily avoided.

Yes, I admit it. I did this thing with full conscious knowledge of what the results would be and how much I would hate myself in the morning. I knew that Janet would never understand why I felt that I had to do it.

Even though it would be easy to pawn it off as an alcohol-induced mistake, in the depths of my heart, I knew what I would be committing… and I knew the suffering it would cause our marriage. The thing that really makes me feel like a monster is that even as I sat there in the car heading back into Hartford, I didn't feel even the slightest shred of remorse.

I saw the neon lights as I passed the adult world on Rt 66 and even though it was late and Janet would be wondering when I would be back, I decided to head in.

Yes, I did it. I went to Taco Bell.

See, Taco Bell and I have this sort of love-hate relationship. Back in college, it was one of the few fast foods that Janet and I could afford for lunch… and I ate it on a regular basis. I also experienced Moctezuma's Revenge on a regular basis as well. At least two times a week I would order up 5 soft tacos (hey, I was a growing boy) and a soda, wolf them down in about three seconds, and then suffer unimaginable pain for the rest of the evening. I ate it out of desperation, and when we graduated and moved to San Francisco, I swore that the great Taco Bell soft taco would never again cross my lips.

In San Francisco it was easy. If you wanted cheap, quick Mexican food, you had tons of taquerias all around town that served up tasty fresh meals. In the five years I lived in San Francisco, I don't think I had Taco Bell once, and my intestines cheered and treated me quite well.

But last night as Chris (read ScowlZine to learn about Chris) and I were heading back from the Willimantic Brewing Company, we came to a rapid agreement that food would be needed before we finished the 40 minute drive back to civilization (ok, to Hartford, the closest facsimile in Connecticut). Chris spotted the Taco Bell as we drove towards home and out of convenience we decided to hit the drive through for a couple of soft tacos and some Mountain Dew.

The Toxic Hell of Taco Bell hit me like a freight train before we even hit I-384 (a mere 15 minutes away from the Taco Bell). Trying to maintain a semblance of dignity, I strained to keep myself from erupting with the revenge of the great leader of the Aztecs. Barely successful, I spent the better part of the evening in miserable pain, exiling myself to another room so I wouldn't pass the overly offensive flatus while in the company of my completely unsympathetic wife (note: the cats were pretty damned aloof as well).

It was a night of my moaning as I writhed in gastrointestinal pain, interspersed with pleas of "God, can't you keep it in" and "Why the hell did you go there". Even when I woke up this morning, I felt nauseous from the previous night's delight. It was 12 hours of misery… misery I knew I would have as soon as it passed through my lips. But I did it anyway, and most likely I will eventually do it again. And again. And *burp* again.

Yo Quiero Alka-Seltzer.

So, much to Avery's chagrin, we watched the entire broadcast of the Oscars last Sunday plus the whole Joan-and-Melissa-Rivers-ranking-on-everybody's-outfit-behind-their-backs-pre-show, which was over a half-hour before the actual Oscar ceremony, which meant I had to turn to channel 8 and watch yet another pre-show with inexplicable choices of commentators/interviewers. Take Tyra Banks, for example: whose idea was it to hand this girl a microphone? After rather impatiently listening to Ashley Judd wax philisophic about the complexity of Russell Crowe's performance in The Insider and the art of filmmaking in general, Tyra could not help but loudly interrupt, screeching into the microphone something to the effect of: "!!Just like you with your purple flower, your purple eyeshadow, your purple dress…you better work girl!!" Girlfriend could just not stop bouncing up and down, screeching, and calling everyone "girl."

And what was with ABC's Pop-Up Video-esque Blurbs For the Mentally Challenged appearing at the bottom of the TV screen? "Ashley Judd's mother is Naomi Judd and her sister is Wynonna Judd. They are The Judds." We were also treated to Useless, But Fun! bits of trivia about celebrities like Arnold Schwartzenegger: "Arnold was on the Dating Game in 1972. He is now married to Maria Shriver." Just imagine the TV-watching American public squinting and tilting their heads thoughtfully over their bowls of popcorn while musing aloud, "Arnold was on the Dating Game? Huh. I wonder why they didn't tell me that on E! Celebrity Profile?"

A few other comments:

The fact that Tom Green is dating Drew Barrymore is disturbing on all levels.

Trey Parker was robbed. Might I remind the Acadamy that Mr. Parker wrote or co-wrote every single one of the songs on the South Park movie soundtrack. Now that's talent! So there are a few swears here and there. Christ, "fuck" might as well be moved over into the General Slang Catagory of the English Language As We Now Know and Use It (where "fart" and "bitch" presumably already reside), it's used so prolifically. But of course, the Oscar went to a Disney movie. Of course the Oscar went to family man Phil Collins, who is probably glad that Elton John passed on singing for this animated flick, because you know he would have won. Phil Collins. What the hell is Su-su-sudio anyway?

I mean, is Tom Green going to be all "Hollywood Insider" now, like Courtney Love? Blech.

Thank God Hilary Swank won Best Actress, for she too would have been robbed if she hadn't. Here's a girl who came out of nowhere, who had played Steve Sanders' girlfriend for Christ's sake, did a movie for the art, not for the fame, not for the money, and kicked ass. You want to talk girl power? Forget the Spice Girls. I have two words: Hilary Swank.

[I didn't want to taint my in-praise-of-Hilary-Swank paragraph with this, but the fact that her husband Chad Lowe openly cried when she was on stage giving her speech, even though she didn't even mention him, was very cool. Very cute. Very awww-inspiring. Note: I have had a crush on him since junior high.]

Geez, Tom, Drew Barrymore? She's just gonna end up throwing you away like a moldy kitchen sponge, like the guitarist from Hole, and that guy she was married to for all of, what 3 weeks or something, and that guy who played the poor white trash wanna-be rock star on 90210.