Guiltless gluttony. An unpretentious account of the edibles I put in my mouth. A gastronomical guide to pleasure on a plate. A daily diary of delicious delicacies. And the music is alright, too.
I am well aware that I have no business buying any kind of frozen anything mid-winter and with a cold, but I think with my eyes and reason with my stomach when it comes to sugar.
Sweet Retreat, my favorite neighborhood ice cream shop. Open 'til 11. Closed for nothing. They offer giant servings of real frozen yogurt made with your choice of whole fruit made-to-order.
Drove home eating it the way I always eat cupped ice cream (clock-wise, outside in -- It prevents melting), and I found a hair. (ugh) freaking a--...so..NASSSty...God! why, why, why, why....I wanna kill...everything...please, WHY... Winced from disgust and genuine anger, pulled over, flicked a spoonful of ice cream and that hair into the street, visualized PG-13 places a short-and-curly could fall from, then finished my ice cream.
Stupid hair. Stupid irrational appetite for sugar.
Music choice: Bitter Sweet Symphony. Has the word "sweet" in it and I like it. It's reason enough
So I was going to write about the hit-and-misses I taste-tested from a southeast Asian bakery, but unfortunately for me (and the infected host I plan to physically assault) I'm sick.
Enlight of my crippling condition, I thought I'd gather the strength to share some of my hipster (read: pseudo-elitist -- we went over this) food remedies for cold symptoms.
All of the following foods were chosen because I like them and I actively search for random reasons to put them in my mouth. This list is in no way comprehensive, convenient, cheap or even appetizing. It is, however, a healthy alternative to corn syrup flavored crack, and yet another way to annoy mainstream America at large. Two birds, one tiny, little pretentious stone.
So here it is...
Symptom:Scratchy/swollen throat Savory Solution:Honey Reasoning:Honey is naturally antibacterial and anti-inflammatory. Prescription: I usually take a spoonful all at once and let it slowly coat my throat at various times throughout the day.
Symptom:Congested chest, wheezing, mucus build-up Savory Solution:Ginger root Reasoning:The burning sensation ginger produces literally melts (loosens) the phlegm/mucus in your body enough for you to cough it up. Prescription: I recommend Reeds Ginger Brew or Altoid's Ginger Mints. (I have also tried making my own ginger root/honey concoction, but despite my love for ginger, I had to claw my forearm to distract from the nausea of "drinking" it.) Special Note:Do this in private. You will be hacking harder than a 70-year-old chain smoker once it starts working.
Symptom:Early onset of a cold Savory Solution:Zinc Reasoning: Boosts weak immune systems Prescription:Just take supplements. If you want it sweet, try Coldeez. Special Note: I denounced Vitamin C as the cold supplement after a near-death experience involving candy-flavored vitamin tablets and an insatiable sweet tooth.
Symptom:All of the Above Savory Solution:Echinacea Reasoning:Echinacea prevents the onset of colds and flu. It is antibacterial, anti-inflammatory, anti-viral, and boosts the immune system. Prescription:Drink Sobe Green Tea. It contains 125 mg of echinacea and tastes heavenly.
Do this and it will likely take two times longer to recover than with modern medicines. I like to live a difficult life. It builds character.
Now, excuse me, while I take my infected self to a hipster's haven: the underground hip-hop show.
I'll be listening in-person, you can listen here. My favorite five-foot femcee at the moment, Hopie Spitshard.
This food adventure starts off the same way most do--with a phone call.
Penelope ( I'm naming her this because she looks like a younger Penelope Cruz...and because she hates when people say so.): Hey! What are you doing??
Me: Nothing.
Penelope: Have you eaten, yet?
Trick question. I've always just eaten. Why doesn't she know this?
Me: uhhh......no?
Penelope: OK. I'm picking you up. I'll be there in 5 minutes.
Me: Crap!.....Ok...(It's mid-morning. I put food in my mouth before I put pants on my legs. It's just who I am.) I need to change. Bye.
Ten minutes later we're driving and I get informed that we're going to eat falafels. I'm shocked -- not at thought of falafels, but that any of my friends entertain the idea of eating anything other than burritos or pho without it being someone's birthday. She told me it was a place featured on the Food Network and she wanted to try it. (Friends have been more eager and adventurous when it comes to food now that I have started this blog and another position I'll mention another day.)
We get there and I realize it's a place I've eaten from before, but never visited. It is the humble home of the place that made my very first falafel, The Falafel Drive-In. It is everything it's name implies. A small, run-down building resembling those old-fashioned, roadside A&W eateries from the 1950's (or the Outkast video for "Roses"). A great American relic...owned by Middle Easterners - oh, America.
We gaze up at the menu, and I'm immediately disgusted. It's cheap. Ridiculously, impossibly, cheap.
Gyros, falafel, baklava.... specials, salads, desserts, burritos (because it's California, and to not feature burritos is to intentionally ignore the very obvious fact that this state is the first-world extension of Mexico). I'm getting greedy, and now my friend and I are publicly announcing the various combinations we'll shortly be inhaling.
"The special, no, yea...Large falafel, banana shake...and fries. Wait, no! Ok, no, fries."
I'm next.
"Small gyros, baklava."
We managed to order with our logic, not our gut.
We ate.
It was everything I remembered it to be: pockets of pita bread stuffed so generously that after two and a half bites it burst under the pressure of my anxious hands, crunchy veggies tossed evenly with a thick, white sauce that perfectly paired with the spiced outer layer of the tender gyros. And the freshly whipped topping on this metaphorical cake?? ....a homemade creation of tangy deliciousness. (Try to imagine a spiced and seasoned ketchup.)
My only gripe... the pieces of gyros were too big. (I like to take lady-like bites as I ravage my food like a rabid hyena.)
As I sat, -- cautiously flicking my tongue at my crispy baklava (it's the only way I can handle any amount of honey)-- I was suddenly proud; proud of the Food Network, and all the people sitting around me for that matter.
Who says you need a 5-star restaurant or indoor restrooms to enjoy good food? Who says "authentic" ethnic food can only be found situated between a loose-leaf tea shop and a Korean-owned sushi bar? Here we were -- Pink Poodle, the neighborhood strip club, around the corner and Korean Palace, Korean "restaurant" that never has its lights on or "open" sign up, to the left -- basking in the mid-winter sun, eating our fill for $7 or less on top of dirty picnic tables (and possibly a stolen Taco Bell bench).
Sometimes it is good to be pedestrian.
For those who think otherwise, well, this song is for you...
If you are not one of the many people I force-fed this url to, I'd like to take this opportunity to introduce myself and the nature of this blog. First off, Hungry Hungry Hipster was basically born from the template Hungry Hungry H - word. The alternatives were "hobbit" and "hoe cake"; naturally I opted for "hipster". That said, I am not a hipster. I'm more so a hungry hungry human with pseudo-elitist tendencies.
Instances of trendiness:
Vegan Meat Substitutes (Coconut is my other white meat)
Skinny Jeans (They are four years old. How was I supposed to know they'd come back?)
Pop Princess Bob (It accents my jawline. Sue me.)
Mainly this blog is about food. About the raw emotions that bubble from deep within my being when the right concoction of crushed sediments, refined roughage, and murdered animal carcasses combine to create a palate pleasing alchemy. It is about the friends and loved ones who come together over exotic courses or home-styled classics to politick, bond, and pick up the check. Really it's about experiencing life through the bloated stomach of a foodie.
Because I can't virtually share with you extacy of eating, I'll do my best to recreate the experience here with vaguely relating music links and poorly photoshopped pictures of entrees I'll probably misspell.
