To throw out something uncharacteristically appreciative, I also have to note that the Democratic Nixon may be a flaming anus about Ebola and Israel and parties that go out on a limb for him and so much more, but he has been very, very good for New York State consumables. I went to a little trade show the other day and just about had my fill of all the top products: Granola. And hooch. I thought he was benefiting from the Semi Mrs. Then Election Night had to go and ruin it all for me. Now I’m trying to shake off images of him choking on corn nuts from a Kwanzaa Kake.
I give Gail Collins credit for not describing Cuomo’s consort as a celebrity chef. But “celebrity cookbook writer” is also stretching it well past Kwanzaa . . .
Sadly, because I’m so distracted by the siren song of link after link, I keep putting off typing my own stuff. Every day I meant to rant about the coverage — and noncoverage — of the fast food workers’ walkouts. This is a BFD, but it’s treated as if these wage slaves are tilting at golden windmills, that no one will pay another nickel for a Big Crap so they should either A) eat it or B) find better jobs. (Obviously, journalists have done so well themselves with both those solutions in a Bushwhacked economy.) As far as I’m concerned, the ballsy strikers have already advanced what the Occupy movement started. I notice more and more people wondering why consumers should have to pay more to cover a living wage. Why can’t the big dogs get paid less? Also, too, there’s a growing awareness of just how fast food chains get away with keeping workers in poverty. We the taxpayers pick up the tab for their housing and health care. Somehow this is all getting communicated despite the best efforts of editors who think the minimum wage is “eight bucks and change.”
But I’ll also confess I did something dumb, too: Tweeted a link to a Guardian photo of Jamie Savior that I thought was a spoof when it was actually from one of his televised stunts. I also got queasy when I had peaches and veal one night and thought about combining them, then went online for ideas. The first thing I turned up was SemiHo doing the same thing. Clearly, I should stay the heck away from anything having to do with fud teevee.
Over at the Twitter, I got some “ra-mens” for expressing my wish for a Super Bowl shelter where I could hide from any mention of that idiotic spectacle. But if I had one, I would have missed the most astonishing concoction for an idiotic spectacle known for astonishing concoctions: “Oreo truffle footballs.” And even the Semi-Ho could not have dreamed this one up — smashed Oreos mixed with cream cheese, covered in chocolate melted with Crisco(!) and decorated with Betty Crocker icing. Forget the fact that even Deen’s gorge would seize up at that mess. USA Weekend was so skinny from so few ads that the actual food story and other recipes only appeared online. Why should Big Food spend when it gets all that brand recognition for free?
The hometown paper seems embarrassingly enamored with the idea of a Food Network star as de facto first lady in Albany. Which is probably just as well, because apparently you don’t mess with the Kwanzaa Kake Kreator. Safer to fawn than to mock when even snarky criticism tends to get disappeared. Nice blogs you got your high-paid staff cranking out. Be a shame if anything happened to them.
That said, picking on food teevee stars is like kicking a dog for crapping on the sidewalk. You can’t blame the animal for doing what its handler encourages. But I have to say, having watched only one too-long clip, that the newest entry in the dumbing-down of the American kitchen makes me think the Mayans might be right about end times. This really is crude fud porn, right down to the inflatable-doll O mouth. “An omelet and a pizza falling in love and having a baby” is a longwinded way of saying fucking was involved, and would you want to eat it? But the “Mexican fiesta in my face” just made me think of carrot bukkake. . . At least no Eggbeater label was visible.
The hysteria over tainted glasses from McDonald’s made me laugh, though. Here are all these parents freaking out over cadmium when they let their kids eat feces in the form of burgers, when diabetes is a bigger risk than maybe even lead. The only surprise to me was that people paid for the damn movie ads as collectibles; it’s the poor man’s Franklin Mint. They should have been given away free to lure in more suckers. Stupidity is the true danger to your health.
I don’t care who stunt-tastes it, the Double Down is the Special Needs Mom of fud: You’re horrified, but you can’t help looking/yammering. Luckily, it will eventually disappear like every other over-the-top gross-out concoction from the McKFC-type labs that’s designed for buzz alone. While the fame junkie will still be shrieking incoherently after the last Twinkie has gone moldy.
I also had a mixed reaction to news that breakfast sales are way down at fast food chains. It’s good that people are giving up semi-food (which arrives in tractor-trailers). But bad that it’s apparently because they no longer have jobs to rush to. And so the rippling continues: More firings because drive-throughs don’t need serfs to assemble the EggaGrease and food factories don’t need slaves to crank out the egg-like substance to fill the biscuit-like material. And that’s just one reason why the latest online crusade to get people to eat only home-cooked food for a week is beyond ridiculous. I’m all for homemade, but doing it because you can afford to just yanks the whole food chain out of whack. Way too many fellow citizens have no choice but to eat in. And some of them are exploited immigrants rushing soggy takeout to the privileged. Go ahead, spring for some. They deserve a break. You can “eat down the fridge” when the banksters start loaning again.