During a discussion at the Food Network's recent New York City Wine and Food Festival, author, "No Reservations" host and professional leather jacket wearer Anthony Bourdain asked his fellow panelist, culinary wunderkind Chef David Chang, "Who chaps your ass?" Chang was quick to rake Guy Fieri over the coals, citing his "douche glasses," and "stupid f***ing armband," and went on to ask a gleefully obliging Bourdain to "catch me and kick me in the ass" should he ever find him similarly adorned. Chang went on to add, "I'm sure he's a swell fella." The crowd went wild.
Not 24 hours later, a "Saturday Night Live" skit portrayed the "Next Food Network Star" winner being pecked to death by birds.
So why are the cool kids picking on Guy?
I want to go to a party at Food TV superstar Guy Fieri's house. I imagine pyramids of glistening pork ribs and snow shovels full of hush puppies. I dream of patiently standing in line by the pool waiting for margaritas to be blasted into my open mouth by a fire hose while AC/DC blares over the loudspeaker.
You know what you're going to get with this dude. He's fun, entertaining and totally lacking in subtlety -- a one-man tailgate upon which nary a Michelin star shines. His contribution to the tired fusion trend was to awkwardly pair barbecue with sushi. He is who he is; now buy a book.
Turduckenis a de-boned turkey stuffed with a de-boned duck, which is stuffed with a de-boned chicken that is usually stuffed with a sausage, cornbread stuffing. But you already knew this. This distinctly Southern holy trinity of protein has gone from culinary curiosity to mainstream obsession over the course of its short life (its origins are disputed, but it seemed to magically appear sometime in the early to mid-1980s.)
The Turducken's place in the mighty pantheon of American cuisine is a forgone conclusion. This Frankenstein of Fowl Meat is here to stay. But that doesn't mean you know everything about this truly savory gift to the carnivore. In fact, here are five things you didn't know about the happy marriage between gobblers, quackers, and cluck-cluckers.
For those of you who want to try to conjure this delicacy, check out noted health food pioneer Paula Deen's recipe here.
Jingles are jaunty little hymns to hum while strolling down the aisles of the local temple of frozen pizzas, jarred cheeses, and fresh produce. These clarion calls of consumerism are designed to be simple, snappy, and infectious like swine flu. Beamed directly from the television to the frontal lobe, they are often more memorable than the products about which they're composed.
And that's what makes them so effective; you might not want that box of salty, over-priced flavored rice, but it's been scanned and bagged already. Why? Because you didn't even realize that your eyes had rolled into the back of your skull while you were whistling that product's happy little mind-controlling melody.
So we're celebrating some of the most important music our culture has ever produced -- tunes engineered to tickle the intersection of neural ganglia where pleasure and credit card impulses meet. We dare you to listen, remember and totally not catch yourself blurting them out later today, probably at an inappropriate time. Each of these jingles is cheesy, manipulative and one of them will probably be our dying words.
"Is there anything you'd like to say with your last breath?"
Chorus: "I want my baby back, baby back, baby back ribs." Why it's so catchy: It might just be the greatest tune that well-coiffed troupe of teen troubadours from yesteryear, 'N Sync, ever sang. This finger-snapping jingle stirs up excitement for what's essentially a plate of mealy pork bones slathered in sweet ketchup. It's funky, soulful and has the most addicting bass line in all of audio advertising. Imagine it being sung by a cross between Gregorian monks and a gospel choir.
Do you feel like chicken tonight? Betcha will, after the jump.
There is more to New York City and Philadelphia than cheesecake and cheesesteaks, but don't tell that to the U.S. Senate.
The most powerful elected representatives from both New York and Pennsylvania have made a polite World Series food wager on the eve of the baseball match-up. If the Phillies win, Sens. Arlen Specter and Bob Casey will get New York cheesecake. If the Yankees win, Sens. Chuck Schumer and Kristen Gillibrand get Philly cheesesteaks.
What cliché and unoriginal choices, especially since both those old standbys can be found in the food court of any American mall. They don't accurately reflect the soul of either city. What two foods best sum up these two complex metropolises?
In ancient times, food was marketed primarily by "hunger." But in the modern era, it's not enough that we eat our food, we must also emotionally bond with it. This partly explains the enduring appeal of food mascots, those bright, colorful, affable characters who beckon us to consume.
In many cases, we choose a product simply because we have a bizarre attachment to the cartoon that represents it. There is no shame in trusting, say, a paranoid Leprechaun with a powerful marshmallow lust more than one's own family. These 10 icons are the awesomest in the pantheon of cheap food branding.
Fast food restaurants know where their bread is buttered -- with the kids! The chains have been using toys as little-kid bait for decades, and it's an effective tactic: Children have an adorable propensity for confusing junk for treasure, which is why kiddie meals can be the highlight of their day.
Most of these meals fall into two categories: interactive advertisements for recent blockbusters or beloved television shows, and lame.
We're focusing on the latter, those toys over the years that were uninspired, nonsensical, or just plain disappointing. Each of these so-called "collectibles" currently languishes in the corners of garages, the bottoms of landfills and in the remote, digital wastelands of eBay.
10 More Dirty Restaurant Tricks
5 Things You Didn't Know About Turducken
10 Catchiest Food Jingles We Love to Hate
