CHOW: Arthur Hungry

We eat roughly 89,000 meals in a lifetime - and while I'm not suggesting that all of them have to be seven-course degustations, I do think all of us should make the effort to keep all of them from being ordinary. Enter Arthur Hungry, who's on a mission to document just about everything he stuffs into his maw - after checking out his web site, it's clear that he can make even a workaday In-N-Out burger and fries sound interesting:

...No trip to San Francisco is complete without a visit to In-N-Out. Not to mention the fact that Geoff had never been before! Anyway, I probably don't need to explain this, but for those still living under a rock, In-N-Out is a legendary burger chain in California. It puts other fast food burgers to shame and emphasizes the freshness and quality of its ingredients as well as its beautiful simplicity. There are, however, quite a few items that you can order from the secret menu that aren't listed - check out a pretty complete list here. This time we went to the Daly City location, which is in a sort of mini strip mall that contains the In-N-Out, a Krispy Kreme next door, a big parking lot, and nothing else. Perfect!...I usually get the same thing. Animal style just means they use grilled onions instead of raw ones, along with a thousand island-like special sauce. For those not from California, it may be tough to understand how much looking at this picture makes me crave In-N-Out. I want it. Badly. Now.

The last time I was in Vegas, a bunch of us schlepped from the Luxor over to the In-N-Out at the edge of the strip. It was hot and it was far but it was SO TOTALLY WORTH IT. Arthur, in his quest for good chow, clearly understands that a good meal is almost always worth the trouble.

CHEKIT: Slap it up, flip it, rub it down.

So, J&J posted a whole buncha updates from Japan. It looks like, in addition to checking out the odddly-named sodas and the ancestral home of Mario and Luigi, they took in some local sports:

When we got to the subway station nearest the arena, we knew were headed the right direction, as there were Rashiki (Sumo Wrestlers) wandering among the commuters in the Kimono, wooden clogs and towering above everyone else. In a place where many people are hovering around five feet tall and 100 lbs. soak-and-wet, the Sumo Rashiki really stand out.

They also found that ever-elusive beverage, the yet-to-be-sold-in-Chicago, relaxing-time-provider, Suntory Whisky:


Photos. A bunch of new posts. You'll wanna check out all the fun yourself.

CHOW [and CHEKIT]: "GET IN MY BELLY!"

Baby eatin'. It's Screenheadalicious:

Babyberry Pie:

Ingredients:
At least 8 plump, naked babies from an unsuspecting mother of octuplets
2 pounds of cookie dough
a pie (any flavor)
a ballbat

After thieving the babies away, throw them all into a dog kennel and feed them bacardi and ho ho's for at least 3 days. after they have become intoxicated and fattened to the max, bring them in for the cookin'. take two of the babies and shut their head in the oven so that their arms and legs are flailing about. turn the oven up to 450 or so. Taunt the other 6 babies with the cookie dough by placing it in front of them, then proceeding to hit their hands with the ballbat when they grab for the cookie dough. after the first two babies heads burn up and they fall to the floor, feed that to the other babies, then use mustard gas or a play a chingy cd to kill the remaining 6. then eat the pie.

Actually, that wasn't appetizing at all. But it was pretty funny, though.

CHEKIT: Bagels are good. Zeta-Joneses are better.

I don't know much. But I do know I like chowing down on bagels. And, well, I...like...can't...make...the obvious joke...DAMMIT. I'm gonna let the snarks at Fametracker handle this one.

CHOW: Beer Hunter

No, we're not talking about the drinking game (though it would be fun to play again - GOD, I miss college.) Saucy Magazine turned us onto this guy - unfortunately named Michael Jackson. Check him out - and trust me - the only things this guy wants to fondle are pint glasses filled with the best beer in the world.

CHEKIT: J&J in Japan

They've just arrived in Tokyo with an insane monstrous lizard in tow bent on destruction and mayhem (Just to clarify: Jen and Jeff are bent on mass destruction; Godzilla's just in town to grab some sushi and a drink at that hotel bar from Lost in Translation.) They're already having adventures:

...I mustered up the courage to ask an officer "excuse me, do you understand English?" he replied "yes", but then quickly changed his answer to "a little". So I continued to ask in Japanese "where is the hotel Dai-Ichi?" he told us it was downstairs and to the left and then right there. What he really meant was turn right there... we wandered the block for 10 minutes before Jen asked another person where the hotel was, and we were directed back in the direction we came from. We knew it was right in that area, but not exactly where at. I had found the street it was on and we felt we were getting closer, when Jen went in to a convenience store to get final directions. Low and behold she came out with a receipt map. It showed that Hotel Dai-Ichi was right around the corner. It turns out the Japanese aren't shy about giving directions, especially when they are the wrong directions.

We'll be posting updates from their travelblog periodically.

MUZIK: It rubs the lotion on its skin...

...or else it gets the hi-rez Quicktime download of the bad-ass'n-est repurposing of Silence of the Lambs film footage ever. Groovy and creepy, though not in a Thriller kinda way - more in a "my indie-rock-DJ-project is gonna skin you alive" kinda way.

And in case that video whetted your appetite for more Buffalo Bill - you can catch up with your favorite amateur dressmaker here.

CHEKIT: "Little people inhabit land, staircases in castles tiny they were. Home I feel at."

Yoda hits castles a-plenty and the Guiness Brewery, among other Irish locales. Holy pee-pants, Jenny - thank you. This rocks.

LL&CB: Found Magazine

Like a lot of good things in my life, Found Magazine came to me through the Big Show, and, like the first time I heard TAL, reading Found makes you see the world (or at least the sidewalk and open trash bins) differently. Go to the website or order an issue or a book or two and discover one of the few truly unique ideas in publishing today - and alternately cry and laugh your ass off in the process. Mac and I caught the 'zine's head honcho/lead scrounger Davy Rothbart at the opening of Found's exhibit of sometimes sad and sweet and crazy items at a local gallery - and judging from the turnout, more and more people are finding the magazine itself an unexpected pleasure.

CHEKIT: Career Opportunities

Though our economy has ostensibly emerged from a "jobless recovery," employment options are still scarce. For those seeking to retool, retrain and try a new line of work, the way forward is even more difficult. Luckily, for those with drive, determination, $3,000 and an enthusiasm for the double suplex, Mr. Harley Race has a program guaranteed to put you on the right track (or onto a chiropractor's exam table.)

MUZIK: Soul Sides

On one of her brilliant compilations, Sara Z included a few genius and funkalicious tracks labeled "soul sides blog." After seeing the title scroll across my iPod's screen a few dozen times, I decided to look for the source. And now, after following the entries for a few weeks, I can see how one could be forgiven for wondering if DJ O-Dub, aka Oliver Wang, might be in posession of or has access to all of the collected funk, soul and R&B in the civilized world. That is one slicked, pimped-out, smooth funky rumbler of a music blog, I tell you what.

CHEKIT: "Screw you, Hawaii!"

Ever-reliable Screenhead provides another triumph from Triumph.

UPDATE: Man, I totally forgot about this interview with Terry Gross back in 2003. It's funny as poop.

CHOW: Dead Man Eating

There's this great piece by Giles Smith in that Nick-Hornby-edited short-story compilation from a few years ago that's just lovely and charming - as charming as the ponderings of a widow preparing the last meals for condemned prisoners can be:

They can have what they like, within reason, up to a maximum of three courses, with coffee or tea and a piece of confectionery or a biscuit if they want it. No alcohol, for obvious reasons. Obviously, you'll get the jokers, like the one who said he wanted a whole roast pig with an apple in its mouth. Or the governor's head, one of them said he wanted.

She's a sweet old bird - and as the story progresses, you get the feeling that, by her lights, there's nothing better for the trials of the next great adventure than a good hot meal beforehand.

Understand, please, that I don't know if there's heart disease in the afterlife - but I do know that if all state-sponsored forays into the unknown are preceded by meals like convicted murderer Dennis Bagwell's, I can see the next great adventure interrupted by regular trips to a purgatorial cardiologist:

Last Meal: Bagwell requested a beef steak, medium rare with A1 Sauce, three fried chicken breast, three fried chicken thighs, BBQ ribs, a large order of french fries, a large order of onion rings, a pound of fried bacon, a dozen scrambled eggs with onions, fried taters with onions, sliced tomatoes, a salad with ranch dressing, two hamburgers with everything, peach pie or cobbler, ketchup, salt and pepper, milk and coffee, ice tea with real sugar.

Other prisoners have made relatively healthier choices.

MUZIK: Beaterator

No, you pervs, it's not a automated "self-maintenance" machine (though I've been told by a lot of women that this thing comes pretty close.) But if you've ever fancied yourself a dilettante DJ or an amateur Timbaland or N.E.R.D.-style funkologist - and you haven't embarrassed yourself by spending the rent money on a set of ones and twos - the folks at Rockstar Games (yes, THOSE Rockstar Games) have a 100% free way for you to get your rocks off [via Kotaku.] It's similar to a lot of other Shockwave-mixers - but it's the best I've seen so far.

CHEKIT: "The price is WRONG, BITCH!"

Toldja Knial would get his party started right (though his look back at the big show and its influence on popular culture is a little too mannered for my taste.) (That is to say - it's measured and well-written - and I have no taste.)

LL&CB: The Michael Jordan of Chess - except without the compulsive gambling and embarrassing forays into minor league baseball.

Imagine being as good as Michael Jordan or Tiger Woods in a competitive sport for 22 years. For more than two decades, no one's been able to touch you. Multi-national corporations devote millions of dollars in research trying to find a way to beat you. And still - except for a few matches here and there - you're still number one. And not just number one now. Because of the fact that more than any other competitive sport, the game is played by the same rules and with the same equipment as it was centuries ago - historians of the game call you the greatest of all time. And you know that they mean it. And you know that they're right.

So what to do? Endure the endless bickering between players, promoters and leagues (okay, federations) as your talent and desire slowly drains away? Embark on a farewell tour, giving the long goodbye to longtime fans and friends over the course of a final, bittersweet season (does chess even HAVE a season)?

If you're this guy, what you do is, after winning the biggest-stakes tourney of the year, tap the microphone a few times in front of a hastily assembled group of reporters and club them over the head with the news. You were never as crazily charming (or, as it turns out, just plain crazy) as Bobby, and they never made a movie about you starring Ben Kingsley and Lawrence Fishburne, but you were good - maybe a little grouchy - but still, The Greatest of All Time. And you'll tip your king whichever way you like, thank you very much.

Thank you, Garry. (And good luck dealing with Chess-Pimp now that he's got all this free time, Vladimir.)

CHOW: Chocolate & Zucchini

Secret Squirrel sent me a story from the Washington Post about all these food blogs and I just about had an accident. Some were crazy, some were wonderfully useful, and some, like this one, were just plain brilliant.

Clotilde has been getting a whole pile of press lately, and deservedly so - she writes about eating and living in Paris and the stories she posts serve both and each other well - her discoveries (recipes and restaurants among them) are so free of the usual bite and snark of less genteel, more self-serving blogs that you get drawn in to her work, her life - cast about in simple yet sophisticated prose that belies her 25 years:

Le chou-rave -- in English kohlrabi or cabbage turnip -- is definitely my greatest vegetable discovery for this winter. Although its name would indicate that it is a root vegetable ("rave" means "root", as in betterave [beetroot] or celeri-rave [celeryroot]) it is in fact a surface vegetable and belongs to the cabbage family. It is also exceptionally rich in vitamins and nutrients.

I first spotted it in the display of my favorite produce stall at the market, and was initially drawn to it because of its interesting look -- a plump pastel green body with graceful little arms growing up from all sides and twirling around, ending in large green leaves. I asked the stall-keeper about them, the one who's so pretty and has a smile so fresh you would swear she just hopped right out of the salad crates, the one who's always glad to advise about cooking methods and recipes (I usually pretend I'm not quite ready until she's available to take my order).

She explained that the greens are edible and can be used like parsley, while the best use for the body is to peel it, slice it thinly, and eat the slices raw with a little fleur de sel sprinkled on top. This came as something of a surprise, it sounded like such a summery use for what I had imagined was a root vegetable, destined for boiling and stewing and roasting (all methods you could also apply to our friend the chou-rave).

I promptly tried this at home, and from then on became a die-hard fan of raw chou-rave. The flesh is crunchy like a radichio but it has none of the radichio's peppery bite, and its flavor is sweet and subtly nutty. The slices are moist enough that you can press them gently onto a little pile of salt so a few flakes will stick on, a beautifully complement in terms of taste and texture.

But my personal preference, for a tasty and healthy appetizer, is to match it with spirulina gomasio -- my greatest condiment discovery for this winter!

She eats and cooks in a life that would be a sweet (and chunk-bottomizing) dream to most of us - and this isn't even her day job - she's just chosen to open her eyes and her mouth to the world - and, thankfully, found a way to tell us about it all.

CHEKIT: Crush

Fry sent me this link with this subject line:

the most mesmerizing thing I have ever seen

I was gonna disagree. Until I took a look at this couch. It makes this really sad little screeching sound - the exact sound I think I'd make if I was getting eaten alive.

Select Computers (whole). This makes the beatdown sequence in Office Space look like a tea party.

[Much love to Fry and to Scavedot, who also gave me the heads-up on this]

CHEKIT: "This one goes out to the one I love..."

You guys know that R.E.M. song is just a big "screw you" to somebody that done Michael Stipe wrong, right?

And as for all things "screw you"-related - our friend Joe alerted me to the presence of this website - which is like reading the "Vows" section of the New York Times in Bizarro World:

Sole Waldon, 34, has "called the lawyers" on Atlanta-based John "Jisz" Waldon, 27, whom she married two years ago and had a daughter with. "We had what I thought was a happy life together until I found out the sucker had a double life," says Sole. "He's better known [on the internet] as Thoroughbredd1." Indeed--Thoroughbredd1 has an ad out on a site called "White Girl Serves." There, he discusses his long quest to find a "white, well-built slut." Apparently, Sole does not fit this description.

From there, alert cohort Secret Squirrel checked out the links page - where she found these sweet sites of schadenfreude:

The Dick List: pretty self-explanatory. There's an alphabetical listing, even.

Other Announcements: When your life sucks enough to send the very best.

They Took Everything: Help take the edge off your friend's recent divorce/cuckolding with a selection from this site. They've got a GIFT REGISTRY, for the love of Pete.

(Not that you should start wondering when Pete will call. He's just not that into you.)

[Thanks to Secret and Joe.]

CHEKIT: Ass-kickin' chicks...and my friend Knial.

Knial just threw his hat into the ring. Nothing much up there yet, but trust me – it’ll be worth keeping up with, once he gets going. He reminded me that another friend of ours, Sybil Disobedience, is keeping busy with a project of her own.

CHEKIT: Toys

Hold up, yo - ALL the links in this post are NOT SAFE FOR WORK. I mean, seriously - the photo above was the only one even CLOSE to being appropriate for posting.
Carly is a PR operative working in the LA adult industry - and, in addition to her duties plugging (heh) for various durrrty video production studios and, uh, novelty manufacturers, she runs a fascinating and well-written blog, talking about her work and her life (she herself has never performed on camera.) Whatever your feelings about the business, her web site is a fascinating peek into a world most of us only have an end-user (heh heh) relationship to (and don't tell me that you don't. Who are we kidding?) The latest shipment of products for her to review is a DOOZY, I tell you what.

CHOW: Update - That hair IS freaky.

Just ask this guy. [via Lindsayism]

CHOW: Ketchup

He's got crazy hair but don't let that fool you - he is one bad mutha..."SHUT YO MOUTH!" "But I'm talkin' about journalist and best-selling writer Malcolm Gladwell!" "THEN WE CAN DIG IT!") You probably already know him as the New Yorker's resident parser of minutae and author of this and this. Anyway - I was digging through some magazines from last year and found this article again - which, in case you missed it, rocked. I mean, pages and pages about ketchup? Who else but MC MG?

CHEKIT: "In case you're wondering how I know so much about ninjas..."

While many of you, I'm sure, have already experienced the real ultimate power of the dark warrior, and enjoyed the ninja-liciousness of this establishment, I'm thinking this is one shuriken-related tidbit you haven't caught: my co-worker Josh is not only a ninja-in-training, but moonlights as an ever-vigilant monitor of ninja poseurs and their ilk. These three, as Josh has explained, clearly have no honor.

CHEKIT: Best Jimmy Hats

Slate's shopping column is the editorial equivalent of your friends coming over one Sunday afternoon to watch the game while ripping whatever variety of consumer products (frozen pizza, vodka) you've laid out for them to pick over during the commercials. Funny, often indelicate ("One participant described [an eggnog] as tasting 'more like Pepto-Bismol, less like eggnog'; another likened it to 'semigloss/eggshell,' ") and always useful - it's something to look for whenever a new installment appears. And this latest one is all that. And more.

CHOW [and CHEKIT]: "Maybe if I put a little dish of butter sauce here with a nutcracker, it'll run out the other side."

"Be Free! Be free, you disgusting, freakish giant spider cousin! Scurry to freedom!"

My friend Jen (whom you'll be hearing from soon in Dispatches, as she sends us some fun pix and posts from Japan) sent this along yesterday:

Headline from AP: Gigantic Lobster Spared From Boiling Grave

If this one was under the refrigerator, it woulda picked it up and KILLED Alvy with it.

Unfortunately, Bubba was not long for this earth. Oh, creepily huge sea creature, we hardly knew ye.

[Thnx to Fry]

CHEKIT: Jenny R

In addition to being one of my fellow former Maneater columnists, she's also runs a snarky, funny and well-maintained blog outta NYC. She also finished a very close second in a kissing contest I was privileged to judge.

Just barely.

Just. (Just kidding, J!)

MUZIK: Update on my main girl KE

I've been trawling the web for reviews of Kathleen Edwards' new CD, and so far the reviews have been pretty positive. I mean, after last night's rock-out and sweet mugging on Letterman, who wouldn't be charmed by those lyrics:

i've got ways to make you come
back to me

I've never wanted to be the nameless, faceless object of country-song heartbreak more in my entire life.

Now, understand - I'm as prone to hyperbolize as the next person - but perhaps not as prone as our man Scavedot (I'm quoting from his comments here):

Comparing Kathleen to Sheryl Crow is, well, its a fucking crime. God knows Theo has been guilty of some henious shit in his day, usually involving trash cans, Sam's Club booze and Kool Aide, but this is on par with comparing Heather Graham to Jennifer Garner. Sure, Garner is pretty and all, but she's still a Ben Affleck robot, where as Heather is an original. (Doubters, need I reminded you of License to Drive?) Plus, I've been to Kennett. Not good.

Here's the deal. I worship at the altar of Belleville, Ill. You can have your Radiohead and The Strokes and those ass clown siblings who don't count simply because they're from Detroit. (Shudder.) I'll take the boy from Bellevegas anyday, and the fact is, Jeff is still taking up multiple slots in the changer more than a decade since he started punching out records. And yet, after listening to Back to Me, I've got just six words: "Yankee Hotel Foxtrot: It's that good."

Then again, I haven't heard the album yet. I hope he's right.

CHEKIT: Swearasaurus

There are plenty of sites like it. But none match the power and the glory that is the Swearasaurus! Bow before it, or cau dy ben a stedd ar hwn!

MUZIK: Kathleen Edwards, Wilco, HBMS and trickin' out da Shuffle.

Kathleen Edwards is Canada's Sheryl Crow - except more talented, more profane and less likely to crank out mediocre radio-friendly crap like "Soak Up The Sun." I hear "Sweet Little Duck" and wanna weep into a tumbler of bourbon and drive to Manitoba, all through the night, all at the same time. She's got a new album out today - grab that one, and her debut - and learn to love the woman Sheryl wishes she was.

Say what you want about the amiable, ambling lameness of NPR - they've got killer taste in music (I've heard Thievery Corporation, old school Liz Phair and Wu-Tang Clan as bumpers on ATC.) And lately, All Songs Considered has been kicking out the jams - especially with my main man Jeff.

Prince Paul & Dan the Automator, kidz! HBMS has got a new album with more cameos than the Love Boat, bringing the breaks and the beats you need to stay well-groomed and funky enough for the ladies! The girls dig a groovy guy that loves the grooves. And these grooves are deep. They're gonna be on tour, soon, too.

And for those of you Hamleting and kvetching over whether or not to buy one of these things - Apple took the iPod photo down to $349. And if you opt for the Shuffle, and if you wait a bit, you can trick it out, crazy-style, too.