I just listened to a BBC podcast where they reported that blogs are no longer the cool thing. So, here’s some uncoolness involving my culinary explorations:
A trip to the Asian grocery brought several non-standard ramen-esque products.
The beef-flavor porridge tasted much like instant cream of wheat, but beefier.
The "vermicelli made from beans" produced a tangle of semi-transparent tentaclely noodles.
And the "artificial pickled cabbage fish flavor instant sweet potato thread" had dessicated beans and a green paste in the flavor pouches. There was so much going on flavor-wise that I had to sit on the floor while I chewed.
There are three things that America still does better than anyone else in the world, and one of those things is make rootbeer. If "Hey Song Sarsaparilla" is any indication, there’s no danger of that changing.
The rootbeer flavor was almost completely overwhelmed by the ginger.
I have this theory that good queso is mainly milk and thickener, with cheese only added as flavoring. I have yet to experimentally verify this.
Every now and then, you want to re-create the elementary school cafeteria experience.
Behold, salisbury steak, with mashed potatoes, string beans, fruit-cocktail jello, and chocolate milk. It tasted just like being small and afraid.
Tequiza: It tastes a bit like malt liquor and a bit like tequilla. On a 100-degree day there’s nothing better.
From El Chilitos on Manor: A tamerind and chili-flavored popsicle and a watermelon-flavored aqua-fresca. El Chilitos also has a popsicle flavor called "luca" which is apparently the flavor of salt. Also, very good on a 100-degree day.
Haven’t you wished that you could have a Thai tea with artificial creamer instead of actual cream?
A bit gross, but it’s awfully convenient.
Chorizo: for that breakfast taco taste at home.
I had no idea that chorizo was 80% grease.
If ever you’re near the HEB in the morning, the steam-tray section offers a variety of breakfast tacos. Some of the cheapest breakfast tacos in town (by weight), and they offer chicharrones, which are greasy and rubbery and gravy-soaked wonders of breakfast taco deliciousness.
These snack sticks are made in Houston. There are six sticks per styrofoam tray, each one hand-wrapped in cellophane with a single clove of garlic and a slice of jalapeno, which is just too precious for words.
Unfortunately I have no idea how to cook them. The sticks themselves appear to be some kind of head-cheesy substance with rubbery flecks of pig skin suspended inside. When fried the suspension medium blackens and turns into a nasty gelatinous paste. And the garlic and jalapeno invariably fall off and burn.
But even when thoroughly cooked, the snack sticks have a crisply-chewy texture.
"Red Bean Jelly Mix (oriental dessert mix)". Is there anything I can say about this that wasn’t said in the title?
