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There I was at the HEB, shopping while hungry, when I realized that I’d been holding this fillet of salmon and gently stroking its tender red flesh through the cling wrap for quite some time. So I figured I’d committed to a purchase. After fried in olive oil with a crust of salt, I then baked it onto English muffin halves with cheese and tomato.
Yeah, I know. I didn’t have any fresh basil handy.
Ethnic snacks are a staple of my diet. Here’s a Korean corn-puff snack with an insulting caricature of an Indian. Man, those Koreans are so racist, I just hate them.
The corn puff things in back taste vaguely like crab. And grease.
I realized this week that it’s been a long time since I’ve had mochi.
Most of you don’t know that mochi was a dough-covered ball of ice cream before it was the deadly lizard-penguin Mocchi from Monster Rancher.
There’s a convenience store near 14th and Cedar that sells gizzards in one dollar increments.
Not as big and fleshy as previously frakked gizzards, but they’re not as chewy either. The Budweiser Clamato tasted more like tomato and Bud than like clam. Go figure.
A convenience store in Elgin sold me this pickled egg from the big jar next to the register.
You will notice that it was packaged in a paper bag identical to the brown paper bag that tastefully concealed my Clamato.
Pau Bhaji from those Indian MREs tastes like a cross between veggie chili and veggie sloppy joes.
But in a good way.
My frakking deputy and I visited Lucky J’s, a food cart which is essentially the only way to get fried chicken and waffles in this town.
I did not literally take my camera on the trip, but after eating the chicken and waffles, I felt that I had no choice but to blog about this singular food combo.
So I drew a picture.
I was pretty skeptical about chicken and waffles. It sounds like a stupid IHOP promotion.
But after loading up my fork with a bite of spicy and crunchy chicken, and a bite of sweet and spongy waffle, I can only say . . . it . . . is . . . damn . . . good.
