Thursday, June 30, 2011

In A Kingdom Not So Far Away

From time to time I'm going to take a moment and highlight a member of the Lettuce Is the Devil brethren for without friends, life is worth nothing.

Today I'd like to introduce the one, the only Lissa.


Lissa and her husband are good friends. We enjoy going out for a bit of food and an adult beverage or ten with them. Sadly Lissa still dances with the green one and his evil veggie kin but at least her husband Randy is pure of heart. he is a true meat man, but this post is about Lissa not him.

Lissa is not shy. She is however naive in a few matters ... like ice.

Let's step back in time and share a story about our fairy princess.

Once upon a time our fair maiden began to perspire. Now Princess Lissa hates the heat. She would be happy if the mercury never rose above 45 so sweating is totally beneath her royal self.

But Lissa loves to eat. Not just salads and froo froo frillery but real honest too goodness meat. This is why I still have hope for her. And she will go anywhere or do most anything for a tasty meal so that is why on this hot Texas summer day Lissa found herself at a divey little motorcycle joint that might have had working A/C some time back when Route 66 was actually the mother road.

So there she sat perspiring in that Route 66 greasy spoon waiting for her meal. She'd been partaking of many an adult beverage to keep her parched throat lubricated so soon enough her bladder demanded attention. But alas the women's room had a line.

Now our fair maiden is not about to wait in a line so she quickly ducked into the men's room. There she spied the most curious of sights. A long metal tub full of ice. Now Princess Lissa being of the female persuasion was unaccustomed to  the handiness of something called a urinal. Perhaps she;d seen or heard tell of the fancy new porcelain kind that hang on the wall but an old antique type trough urinal was not something she'd ever heard of.

Or perhaps the heat had melted her brain.

Either way our fair maiden was tempted by the frigid allure of the ice. She dipped her hand in and finding that wholly refreshing she scooped a handful of the crushed cubes and proceeded to run them along her neck and upper chest. Back at the table she asked the men why the restaurant stored ice in the men's room.

Sadly I have no video of Princess Lissa's facial expression upon learning that ice in urinals helps keep the piss smell at bay especially when it is hot and steamy.

But never fear for I do have video of our fair maiden taking her first ever sip of an evil concoction of tomato and clam juice, mixed with beer. It is called a Chillata.


video



And yes, Lissa brave soul that she is granted her blessings of this post.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

A Turd is a Turd

So there I was on twitter. Happily reading the tweets of my peeps when I spot a link to this.

Okay so I know people are lazy and very few actually clicked on that link so I'll tell you about it. A team of Japanese scientist having been mucking around in Tokyo's sewage. Using some fancy scientific crap (pun intended they have extracted proteins, carbohydrates and fats from the feces. Then combining the elements and adding soy protein and red food coloring they are creating an imitation meat product -- steaks and burgers.

No, I am not shitting you. 


According to the article the sewage is heat treated first so the end product is safe to eat.

There goes the old saying, "Eat shit and die."


The food safety guy quoted in the article claims that eating this product which is produced by human shit is equivalent to eating veggies fertilized by excrement since both gain their nutrients via feces. His argument does support my stance that all veggies are crap but this is still a real stinker of an idea.

I seriously doubt event eh most green eco-friendly folk are going to be eager to chow down on a shit burger. And Vegans can't eat anything that came from something with a face. So I ask who the hell is gonna eat this crap?

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Roar Like a Damn Tiger

There I was flipping through the channels when I spy a show called FREAKY EATERS.

I thought to myself. Surely This must be about some lunatic vegan so I hit the info button and this is what I see ...

Michael has a compulsion for eating meat.

And here is a teaser promo I found on the web.



So needless to say I started watching the show. I missed the beginning but I watched for as long as I could until the sights sickened me and I had to flip the damn channel.

Michail was going through life, enjoying tasty meals.

But no. This broad he's hooked up with isn't happy with the due she fell in love with. Just because she has some unresolved daddy issues she is going to take it out on a happy go lucky member of the meat man brethren. And she's not even tough enough to do the dirty work herself. Hell no she enlists some nutritionist and a psychotherapist to help her.

Together they first coerce Michael into blasphemy by making him grind up 150 pounds of choice meat cuts int he effort o make him see meat in a less favorable light.

Then they bring in some cardiologist who shows him a damaged heart and tells Micheal that COULD be him. I repeat COULD.

Then they drag him to some Mongolian barbecue joint and badger him until he relents and eats first carrots,t hen peppers and finally broccoli.

For the love of God people that is torture. They should have shot the damn show at Guantanamo.

Eating MEAT is not a crime folks. Neither is shunning veggies.

And Mikey Yeah I'm calling you Mikey -- a little boys name, because a MAN, especially a genuine MEAT MAN would have told those people to take that broccoli and stuff it up their asparagus.

Mikey, run now dude. First, she demands you change your diet. Next, she'll have you dressing in matching sweaters. Pretty soon she'll have you watching figure skating rather than football. Before you know it you are standing outside the Victoria's Secret dressing room at your local mall, holding her damned purse, while she tries on panties.Panties some other dude will later rip off with his teeth because your dear sweet Jenna has tired of her pussycat husband and wants to spice up her life with a real carnivorous tiger.

Sunday, June 5, 2011

Adam Might Want His Back After This

Today the talented, though  as you'll see -- misguided, Mark Terry joins us here for a meaty discussion. Among other things Mark is a talented, multi-published author, a black belt in Karate, and a man's man that rarely if ever misses a meal. Problem is he live up in Michigan and not down here in Texas, therefore I'll forgive him of his flawed opinions on the delicacy that is ribs.



Ribs I Have Known and Loved
By Mark Terry

Dare I engage the Meat Man on the topic of ribs? Not only the Meat Man, but a Texas Meat Man?

I have long had a love affair with ribs, primarily pork ribs. Yes, beef ribs will do, but really, if you’re going to have ribs, go pork.

My friends, the word “succulent” was invented to describe barbeque ribs. From the Latin “succu,” the word for “pig,” and “lent,” the word for “grease smeared on my face.” Okay, I’m lying. What do you care?

Do you baste your BBQ sauce and let it get crunchy? Or do you dip your ribs afterwards?

Homemade sauce? Or out of a bottle?

These are fighting words, you know. Remember the Alamo? I’m sure there was an argument about dry rubs in there somewhere.


Here’s one to bring out the six-guns and Shiner Bock (although, I’m sorry, my preference is Sam Adams) – parboil or slow roast?

Dear God, we parboil here in the Terry household and that may very well be a sin against humanity, but I have not mastered the slow roast, nor developed the patience – that’s why God invented restaurants.

And here’s one to get the Meat Man all riled up: my favorite place for ribs here in Oxford, Michigan is an Italian restaurant, Italia Gardens, not far from my house. Yes, I like them with aside of fettuccini alfredo.

I want the meat to fall off the bone and I want to pick up the ribs and eat them with my fingers. Use a fork? What are you a philistine?

What say you, Meat aficionados? Pork versus beef? What’s your favorite rib? Where’s your favorite rib joint? What’s your favorite side dish? (And yes, beer can be a side dish when discussing ribs and other meats. Totally acceptable).

***********************************
Where ... O ... where do I start?


I dwell here in the heart of cattle country. I lay my head each night in the very city where the famed and revered Oprah stood trial for disparaging beef's good name.

And so it almost seems blasphemous to say so but when it comes to ribs, pork ribs are the better option. Not that I'll turn down a meaty Fred Flinstone size rack of beef ribs. 



Sadly, that is the only place where me and Mr. Terry can agree for he is  apparently taken onto too many judo chop to the head or let the sun beat down on his shiny dome one day to many for the rest of his meat theories are the words of a salad eater.

A genuine MEAT MAN doesn't simply make his own sauce -- HE CREATES it.

And did Mr Terry dare say dry rub and crunchy? Ribs are like sex. They are supposed to be moist, sloppy and yes a little dirty. There is no place for dry and crunchy between the sheets nor on a rib platter.

The Alamo? I have stood on that hallowed ground. I touched the very dirt where Davy Crockett, James Bowie, and William B TRAVIS shed their blood. Blood that leached into the Texas soil. Blood that created a nation. A nation that later acquiesced to join the United States. And in that great State one will find a little town named Shiner. In that town one will find Spoetzl brewery the make of Shiner Bock. 


To drink anything less, is nothing more than to spit upon the grave of Davy Crockett, James Bowie, and yes William B TRAVIS.

Parboil? I'd rather be stabbed me through the heart with an asparagus spear than to boil my meat. Oh sure you can boil kielbasa in beer, but ribs? No my friends that is a crime on par with eating ribs at an Italian joint with glorified noodles for the side dish.


Who would do such a thing?

Yes, Mark Terry, but you know what they say about the brilliant minded of the world. Well, Mark happens to be one of those brilliant minded and talented souls, so forgive him his culinary trespasses and instead, indulge in the stories he cooks up.

Mark is the author of the the Derek Stillwater novels. The latest installment, THE VALLEY OF SHADOWS will be available June 7th, that's Tuesday if you were too cheap to buy a calender this year. Buy it -- Read it -- you won't be sorry.



And don't forget to drop a comment on your rib thoughts. Mark will no doubt be stopping in when he can to comment back as will I.

Thursday, June 2, 2011

I Just Might Up Chuck

Flashback in time to about a year ago ...

There I was sitting in Chuck E Cheese happily munching away on a Canadian Bacon pizza while my boys pumped tokens into the video games. Some dude comes around and tells me if I'll sign up in the Chuck E-Club he'll give me 20 free tokens.

Now my boys can put tokens through a video game machine faster than E-coli tainted spinach shoots through a dysenteric Vegan, and this yahoo tells me all I need to do is provide an active meal address. So i do it and all was fine and dandy until the bastards sent me this earlier this week.




First of all, what kind of birthday gift is a dollar off coupon? And second of all it is for FREAKING SALAD! Giving salad as a gift is like giving a kid underwear, no, even worse, USED underwear for Christmas.

Come on Chuck. I realize you play second fiddle in the the mouse orchestra to Mickey but you gotta do better than this. This is the kinds shit that makes people reach for the rat poison.

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

If You Are What You Eat ... I'm A Little Nutty

I recently made the comment either on twitter or facebook that Brussel Sprouts are the testicles of the vegetable world.

This prompted a discussion of my take on Rocky Mountain Oysters, or Calf Fries as they are known as here in Texas.


Before I get there let me further expound on my anti-veggie mantra. Brussel sprouts are indeed the testicles of the plant world.



Nothing about that picture is appetizing.

Now everyone knows testicles are fragile critters and need their very own sack for protection.

Thus I give you kiwis ... The nutsack of nature.



Okay, not to calf fries.

Calf fries, prairie oysters for you Canadians, or Rocky Mountain Oysters most other places are indeed testicles. Taken from castrated bull calves these tasty little snacks can be quite satisfying to the gut if prepared and cooked properly.

First off, size does matter.

The smaller the better as this means the calf fires came from a younger animal.

Second, the little jewels must be skinned and sliced thin. Nobody wants a big old round bovine ball in their mouth.

Third. They must be deeper fried until well done. Raw and runny in the middle is not a good thing when you are munching on a nut.



If and only if those three conditions are met Calf fries are a quite tasty morsel.



And in the end they are meat. Beef from the same animal as filet mignon, porterhouse, or sirloin steak.