Scott's Peanut Butter Mittens
A small accumulation of food-related notes stored over the past couple of days in an otherwise empty e-mail draft since they had nowhere else to go. By the end of any given work week it seems all that's left in my head is a few such thoughts blowing around. Happy Friday.
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Scott's Peanut Butter Mittens: The name on a box of candy left for all takers in the office kitchen. I eat one; a little mitten-shaped chocolate filled with very sweet processed peanut butter filling. For a few seconds it sticks to the inside of the mouth and sort of burns there silently. Trans-fat-tastic.
About 8 oz. of ice water accidentally spilled in my lap by a coworker at lunch. Being in the middle seat against the wall at a corner table at Uno's there was nowhere to go. By 2:30 pm I notice how pleasant it is to be entirely dry again.
Those small birds that French gourmets eat whole: Ortolans.
2 Comments:
Ortolans are for culinary dilletantes. For some real eating, you've gotta go with an ortolan stuffed inside a baby penguin stuffed inside a barn owl. Then you deep fry the bastard and eat it with yellow mustard and waffle fries.
The conversation I was having with one of my coworkers about ortolans actually did focus on enhancing the traditional experience of eating them, more or less along these lines:
Nate: I feel like T.G.I. Friday's should sell like a basket of ortolans, deep-fried, with some kind of dipping sauce.
Coworker: Or filled with ice cream. That way when you squeeze them ice cream comes out the beak.
Nate: Hopefully it comes out the beak.
Then the conversation had to stop since it was at a lunch table with about a dozen people at it.
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