No, me neither because, I was negative seven-years-old then. But they did, and they all wore sunglasses and rapped and line danced and this was in the pre-CTE era so everyone was able to watch it without dwelling on what a nightmare their post football days would be? Well I’m doing the Super Bowl Hustle, which is similar, except instead of a moderately choreographed performance from 300 lb monsters, it’s just me, coincidentally in early February, trying to pay my student loan bill on time and make rent for this dope ass one bedroom with an in-unit washer and dryer (#blessed) situation I got going on.
The only nutrition labels I read are on energy drinks, and that’s only to see how many of them I’d need to drink before caffeine toxicity kills me. It’s generally like 18 to 25, so there’s a solid buffer zone. Still reassuring to check though.
One of my first ever blog posts introduced the idea of the Veloci Diet (trademark still pending, so don’t even fucking think about it), where adoptees would, in theory, only eat what a velociraptor would.
Things like whole sides of beef and raw organ meats would be encouraged; grains, dairy, and anything that doesn’t involve slaughtering a multi-ton creature would be strictly forboden. Velociraptors were big and fast and smart and sexually virile—you’ve seen the movies—so why not do what what they did?
It was mainly meant to make fun of the Paleo Diet—because, really, it’s fucking dumb—but it was also rooted in the fact that I gave a shit about the foods I was putting in my body at the time. I counted grams of protein and carbs and didn’t drink (heavily) on the days when I had big workouts. That’s not to say I wasn’t constantly eating candy and Dorito-fried bullshit, but I was at least conscious of it. I even wrote it down sometimes.
I bought a waffle maker for $19.99 at Target. That’s cheaper than any knife I own, 90% of the pans in my cupboard, and about one tenth the price of my awesome sous vide machine that I only use when I want to impress people. Which is deceptively often, but, you see what I’m saying. A sub-$20 investment has been the sole stalwart in my cooking arsenal, and so should you.
Why? Because waffles are infinitely memetic. All the cool trendy things that we like to eat today revolve around basic recognizable forms. Fried batons covered in wet stuff is called poutine, starch covered in red and cheese is called pizza, pulverized discs of animal parts encased in hand-held wheat products are called hamburgers and so on and so forth. They can each be manipulated within simple confines and still be recognized as their meme. For reference, see ramen burgers and that wretched creation of the most self-loathing person on earth (surprisingly not me), the cauliflower crust pizza.
The simple pattern created by a waffle maker instantly transforms any foodstuff into a meme, thus raising its value. So, let’s break down the carne asada taco. We got grilled meats, cheese, guac, salsa, radish—but instead of using a boring untextured tortilla, make a waffle using a bunch of Mexican beer and probably-toxic chile y limon seasoning. This is my fourth installation of the beef breakfast series with Foodbeast and Beef. You can get the official recipe right here! #Sponsored
As many of you know, I now sit at a desk somewhere between 40 and 600 hours per week. That leaves me very little time to cook, especially if that second number is anywhere close to accurate. So, what I’ve begun to do to mimic a normal healthy dietary lifestyle is make a large pot of food on Sunday night, filled with meats, vegetables, and/or sometimes legumes and stuff, then microwave bowls of that throughout the week. Grains, too, depending on how carbphobic I’m feeling at the time.
It’s given me a new appreciation for foods that are meant to be eaten with a spoon and that also are not called Cinnamon Toast Crunch. I used to be staunchly anti-soup-and-stew and now my stance has waffled. My stance on waffles has also waffled but more on my waffle waffling later, in my next post, where I make waffles. Now, my body craves giant bowls of flavorful mush—foods that have been given time to sit together in a fridge for long periods of time and thus intensify their flavors. Either that or they’re just slowly fermenting. Oh well. They’re tasty.
So I made a one pot meal for the breakfast lover in me. Well, there’s also a poached egg on there, so, like, two pots at the absolute most. It’s chock-full of ground sage to make it taste like a McDonald’s breakfast sausage patty and some quality maple syrup to make it taste like a McDonald’s McGriddle and some ground chipotle to make it taste like a Taco Bell breakfast crunchwrap supreme. We got all the big flavor profiles represented. This is the third part of my beefy breakfast series with Foodbeast and Beef, and you can get the official recipe for this mushy flavorbomb right here! #sponsored
I will indeed eat green eggs and steak, I will eat them after I wake and bake (that joke is in poor taste, marijuana kills)
This dish is inspired by what I’m told is a very popular children’s novel. I’ve never read it, but I recently flipped through a heavily illustrated PDF of it. The illustrations were necessary, by the way, because the book sacrifices plot continuity for silly rhymes.
From what I understand, there is a tall, thin, demon-like creature named Sam who is covered in fur and seems to love off-color breakfast foods. Sam wears a top hat. Demons love top hats. Also, Sam probably not his real name, just a necessary poetic alteration to create an easy rhyme with “ham,” his favorite breakfast meat. His name was probably something closer to Gralthozar or Haphenshet. Something real demon-ish.
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