Even my jaded self was pretty gobsmacked to click on a link to an actual food writer’s post on whether “frizzled” is actually a word. I know the internets bring out the narcissistic id in everyone, but why would anyone natter on like that for all the world to marvel without dragging out a dictionary? As Yogi Berra said, you could look it up. And not with mouse in hand. The only thing dumber, besides the dis of a hostess’s pie crust as “heartbreaking” (see above), was the straining at metaphorical stool for homeland prosciutto. Wouldn’t the blog be pork tartare?