ADVENTURES OF A FATASS

I Toot It 'N Boot It: Big Wangs, Cobbler Mania, & Four Loko

2010-07-18T16:17:00.000-07:00

The chicken wing game in LA is FIERCE because there are actually places here that take pride in their wings and understand that wings are an art form. I dare anyone in the LA area to start an artisan chicken wing truck and I will provide you with menu consultation services for a discounted fee. I have a natural talent for chicken wing flavor design and I don't think anyones mastered the craft quite like I have. Okay, enough with whoring out my services and on with the wangs...

So my favorite Big Wangs is on Cahuenga, a block from Hollywood Boulevard. I heard they've opened up more locations, but I have no interest in those because this one is within walking distance from my apartment.

I am pretty positive that their mascot is a lesbian rooster.

"It tastes like Tang and we don't mean poon!" I am in love with this place for very obvious reasons.

"Buy her one and she'll blast you faster." This menu alone deserves three Michelin stars.

This is the HEART ATTACK. The alfredo bacon fries (or tater tots if you are really skeetin' for a beatin') are literally one of the top ten fattest things I have ever eaten. It was exhilarating, disgusting, and I had to reevaluate my lifestyle for several days after the first bite. But overall, I thought they were amazing and I imagine these reduce people to tears when they are inebriated.

The WANGS. They are flavorful, meaty, and everything I could possibly want in a chicken wing. On Wednesdays, they have 50 cent wings when you buy a drink and on Saturdays, they have 25 cent wings from 11 a.m.-4 p.m. Yes, I memorized the wing deal schedule at this establishment.

So I've been here twice within the past three weeks and it only gets better every time. First off, pitchers range between $8-$13 dollars depending on how fancy you're trying to be. Second, the last time I was here, Dennis Rodman sat next to us with his blonde Ed Hardy'd out boo and her matching offspring. Theres nothing more thrilling than eating chicken wings next to Dennis Rodman, while watching a Giants game, and drinking beer.

God bless Big Wangs.

So its summer and that only means one thing--COBBLER. So my shitstain of a friend Steph and I spotted this stand on La Brea and Olympic called Cobbler Mania. We screamed, almost hit several cars trying to park, and accosted the sweet woman working at the stand and forced her to photograph us in front of it. As luck would have it, she was sold out of everything except for a single sweet potato cobbler. I assume Paula Deen's good graces are responsible for this miracle.

I desperately want to try the Strawberry Mango one.

Sweet potato cobbler. Look at that sweet little heart punched out of the top of the crust. I want to shrink myself with a shrink ray and have a tea party inside that little heart and rest my miniature buns on top of the sweet potato filling.

This glorious little cobbler stand inspired me to make a peach cobbler of my own so I googled, "Best Peach Cobbler Recipe In The World" and got this: Southern Peach Cobbler Recipe (Allrecipes.com).

Ingredients

8 fresh peaches - peeled, pitted and sliced into thin wedges
1/4 cup white sugar
1/4 cup brown sugar
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice
2 teaspoons cornstarch
*I added a 1/2 cup of Minute Tapioca

1 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 cup white sugar
1/4 cup brown sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, chilled and cut into small pieces
1/4 cup boiling water

MIX TOGETHER:
3 tablespoons white sugar
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
Directions

Preheat oven to 425 degrees F (220 degrees C).
In a large bowl, combine peaches, 1/4 cup white sugar, 1/4 cup brown sugar, 1/4 teaspoon cinnamon, nutmeg, lemon juice, and cornstarch. Toss to coat evenly, and pour into a 2 quart baking dish. Bake in preheated oven for 10 minutes.
Meanwhile, in a large bowl, combine flour, 1/4 cup white sugar, 1/4 cup brown sugar, baking powder, and salt. Blend in butter with your fingertips, or a pastry blender, until mixture resembles coarse meal. Stir in water until just combined.
Remove peaches from oven, and drop spoonfuls of topping over them. Sprinkle entire cobbler with the sugar and cinnamon mixture. Bake until topping is golden, about 30 minutes.

SLICE DEM SHITS.

BLAP!

UGH!!

LOOK OUT PIMP!!

FUCKING SEXY, RIGHT??? I hope those instructions were useful to you.

Last but not least, I would like to send out a word of caution to today's youth...

THIS IS NOT SODA.

Four Loko is a new alcoholic sensation that is sweeping the nation and I LOVE/HATE it. It looks and tastes just like soda but is 12% alcohol and is less than $3. I had one of these and became possessed by whatever's in it and proceeded to steal another one from the liquor store (God, forgive me) and drank a bucket of beers at a restaurant that I have no recollection of. I woke up next to my mother the next morning and asked her how I got home, which she did not take kindly to.

So kids, DON'T DO IT. Or do, if you have limits/self-control and only have $3.

WTF: Blind Lemon Jefferson, 10 lb Pancakes, and Korean Tacos

2010-07-08T18:58:00.000-07:00

I would like to start this post off by informing you all that I now have proper furniture and am no longer sleeping on floatation devices. I appreciate everyone’s concern and no, I am not squatting in an abandoned building.

But of course, I have managed to make my living situation uncomfortable by convincing myself that my apartment houses poltergeists. I had a situation where my vintage JC Penney television turned on by itself. Or I accidentally hit the power button with my knee…I don’t know. All I know is I haven’t slept properly since because I am convinced that my Blind Lemon Jefferson poster is haunting me.

I swear I saw the poster vibrate the other day.

To alleviate my fear, I have been professionally victimizing Korean taco trucks. It's daunting to my mid-section but someone has to do it. Behold the Calbi BBQ truck...

Found this bad boy parked on La Brea and 3rd. Me and my pal, Mimi came here after hiking up Runyon Canyon in our alligator shoes because we decided that we should treat ourselves to some traditional Korean delicacies.

When I say "traditional Korean delicacies", I mean beef and shrimp tacos. Their kimchi quesadillas were off the hook too.

Our lady friend Jizzo came down to visit and so we took her Chinese ass to The Griddle Cafe on Sunset because that is what you do when a Chinese person travels great distances to see you.

WAFFLES. I personally have never had a bad experience with a waffle and this one is no exception. It was a bit over the top but when has that ever stopped me from putting something in my mouth? Not never.

The Hoagie Omelette with italian sausage, mozzarella, bell peppers, and onions in it. Pure 100% Full Grown Ecstasy. Shit had me cross-eyed and grinding my teefs.

Alas, the Golden Ticket. Brown sugar bananas inside a buttermilk pancake with caramel, walnuts, and streusel. It wasn't so much a pancake as much as it was a three-tier birthday cake for a cavity-ridden, silver-toothed toddler. Seriously, these pancakes are as big as my comforter and its downright wasteful to serve something so large to a single person. It was delicious, but we would have been okay just ordering this and a side of bacon for 3 people.

I make it a priority in my life to avoid the Hollywood night life at all costs because I need to retain the little dignity that I do have and I don't enjoy men in blouses. Thus, I prefer to go to bars downtown or anything else low-key and not infested with douche lords. Went to a whiskey bar called Seven Grand and they are the shit because they have about 90 moose heads mounted on the walls.

I have learned that whiskey that is not Jack Daniels or Jameson has the potential to not make me barf. Thus, I am a man now.

Fuckyoubye

Jollibee, Versailles, and Bootleg Sangrias

2010-07-02T14:47:00.000-07:00

Terrorizing the streets of Los Angeles has been going quite well. I have already been approached by several Koreatown gangs about possible membership and I have accomplished more than half of the stuff on the official "You Are Persian If..." list. Impressive since it has been less than a week and I have already made this town my bitch.

The other day, I went to visit my pal Chris, mainly because he lives a few blocks from Jollibee. Jollibee is a Filipino fast food joint that has made its way to America and has been successfully confusing the shit out of non-Filipinos ever since. I have had several people confront me about how alarming and uninviting their menu is. All I can say about that is, stay away from the spaghetti and burgers and stick with the Chicken Joy. Their Chicken Joy fried chicken is incredible because its crispy, succulent and is served with a side of rice and gravy.

This is where they make the food of my people. Take note of the young man in the "I <3 DC" shirt. DC does not stand for District of Columbia when a Filipino wears it, it stands for "Daly City."

Whoever designed the entrance/exits and parking situation for Jollibee ought to be shot. I ended up parking across several handicap spots because the whole thing is just bullshit and too confusing to deal with.

Hit up Versailles on La Cienega for some Cuban loving and copped their world famous Garlic Roast Pork and Roasted Chicken. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, you have not lived until you have slathered your face with that garlic sauce. Not to mention the rice and beans and platanos. This place is an institution here in LA and if you want some serious Cuban noms, you gotta hit up Versailles and cop for the low-low.

Went to The Counter on Sunset in West Hollywood. It's a build-your-own burger place and it's pretty damn good. We got some parmesan fries that reeked of rosemary (in a good way) and I got a burger with brie, aioli, guacamole, roasted green chiles, and a mix of greens. This place is freakin dangerous because you just want to pile everything onto your burger and it becomes a huge life decision when you have all those ingredients to choose from. If you go overboard like I did, you will end up with a mess of shit in your cleave and no friends.

My ride or die bitches Jizzo and Mimi came with me to Malibu and we decided to bring along a little treat for the beach. We made some classy, boss bitch sangrias. I put them in these Avelox cups my mom gave me and apparently Avelox is some sort of antibiotic. I'm gonna assume these cups are coated with antibiotics and this is my mom's way of dealing with my questionable lifestyle.

Went to Pavilions and got that Carlo Rossi sangria, Ditto (bootleg 7-Up), and pre-cut fruit packages. I believe this is how they make sangrias in Spain.

A friend who shall remain nameless had one of these and proceeded to vomit all over UCLA. Luckily, I had these pool floaties that I have been using as beds, for her to pass out in fetal on. And yes, I did inflate them with my mouth.

LIVIN THE LIFE

Yadidathizz: The Bay to LA (Like Amoeba, Player)

2010-06-28T16:52:00.000-07:00

I am sitting at a Peet's Coffee in LA and am on the verge of pissing myself but am in a huge pickle because I can't leave my laptop and go to the bathroom because I am sitting next to a person of questionable gender with a heinous bowlcut and we all know those are the sorts that cannot be trusted around unattended electronics. So I'm just gonna sit here and blog until I piss my shorts and get kicked out.

As you can see, I have relocated my ass to LA because I like to surround myself with people more delusional than I am. Needless to say, I miss San Francisco and all of it's freakish glory. Before I left, I stuffed myself with some the Bay's finest nom's and said my farewells to my various lovers.

Of course I had to bid farewell to my Giants. A proper goodbye meant smuggling in Safeway fried chicken, Firefly Sweet Tea Vodka, and lemonades into AT&T Park. Shout out to the people at the gate for overlooking the questionable liquids in my purse and platter of fried chicken in Tee Tee's sweatshirt.

The popcorn carts come equipped with the finest of flavored dusts. My favorites were obviously the RANCH and GARLIC PARMESAN. I brought my crab sandwich to the popcorn dust cart and dusted it with a delicate layer of ranch. The person at the stand really appreciated my aggressive use ranch powder.

This is where I like to sit and try to proposition Travis Ishikawa for sex with my bullhorn.

My homie, Joe brought me to this magical place on 16th and Valencia called Ti Couz. I was sexcited because their buckwheat crepes are on the 7x7 100 Things Eat Before You Die in SF list. This bowl of coffee did wonders for my digestive tract.

Sea creature salad popped off.

I am skeptical of anything that has the word "wheat" attached to it but these buckwheat crepes were off the hook! This one had sausage and a mushroom sauce, which completely cancelled out the wheatness going on. Yeah, fuck wheat but this shit banged.

GOOD LORD. I cannot remember what this is called but its got chocolate mousse, chantilly cream, and vanilla ice cream in it. Basically, I want to die and be reincarnated as this dessert and eat myself alive. I died a thousand times eating this bad boy.

We also hit up this crackin Ethiopian spot called Massawa on Haight Street. I have never really had Ethiopian food except for when I stole the Ethiopian foreign exchange students lunch in high school once and almost burst into flames. We started off with this veggie hot pocket-esque thing that was similar to a samusa.

I felt what the clouds of heaven must feel like when I touched this injera bread. It's so soft and luscious, its porous texture felt amazing against my sweaty palms. I molested it for what seemed like an eternity and as embarrassing as it was for my pal, I could not stop because it was just so inviting. I desperately want to lay atop a slate countertop naked and cover my body in injera for an entire week. Maybe for my birthday?

An enormous platter of beefs, chicken, lentils, and a yogurty substance that rivals Mexican crema. I officially love Ethiopian cuisine ten thousand times more than I love myself.

Gabby aka Little Brown put me onto this spot on Mission called Mi Lindo Peru, which is duh, Peruvian food. My absolute favorite part of this place is a little thing on the menu called "Salchipapa," which is french fries and cut up hot dog. BRILLIANT. I did not order it but the name and ingredients alone make it a winner in my book.

The halea, which is a fried platter of scrimps, calamari, fish, and yucca. GREAZY mothafucka.

I had the snapper with the garlic butter on it. I dare someone to eat this, make out with someone, and see if they survive because the garlic on this is fuckin BANGIN.

God, what I wouldn't do to walk up and down the streets of San Francisco with a tall boy and Mexican popsicle one last time.

This nerdy rap song pretty much encompasses my geographical situation:

Move Over Farmar: Ron Artest Loves Filipino Treats

2010-06-23T12:52:00.000-07:00

There are times when I want to kick Ron Artest in the face and then there are times I want to cradle him in my arms and bottle-feed him Hennessy at halftime in the back of my Impala. I believe he blew me completely away with his Game 7 post-game interview when he thanked his hood, his psychiatrist, and proceeded to promote his rap single, "Champions" on live television. Precisely the move I would have made had I just won the NBA Finals.

I did a little Wikipedia research on him because I had a feeling it would be highly entertaining and as expected, I was right. Here is an excerpt from the section called "Controversy":

During his rookie season in Chicago, he was criticized for applying for a job at Circuit City in order to get an employee discount.[30][31] He once attended a practice with the Indiana Pacers in a bath robe.[32] He was suspended for two games in the early 2004–05 season by Pacers coach Rick Carlisle after he allegedly asked for a month off because he was tired from promoting an R&B album for the group Allure on his production label.

SIMPLY MAGNIFICENT. It rivals ODB's Wikipedia page for sure and that is no easy task my friends. I honestly didn't think Ron could impress me more until I found the following videos of Ron Artest enjoying a Filipino dessert called Halo-Halo.

Apparently he has a Filipino son, which means there is a 98% chance that I could be related to his son or anyone else in this video for that matter. Thus, RON ARTEST AND I ARE OFFICIALLY (PROBABLY) COUSINS!

This one is my absolute favorite. He is indiscriminately getting down on a cup of Halo-Halo, surrounded by teenagers, and is playing Monopoly. Mind you, Halo-Halo is not a normal dessert--it's shaved ice, beans, corn, jackfruit, assorted jelly crap, condensed milk and ice cream. To be honest, I can barely stomach all that shit (I am not proud of that) and I am Filipino. So, hats off to you Ron Artest for being such a strong advocate of Filipino treats.

Ron Ron shaking hands with our national treasure, Manny Pacquiao. I feel like supersonic shockwaves were exchanged during this handshake.

Looks like Jordan Farmar's got a lot of catching up to do to get back on my good side.

*Like my new layout?? The old one looked like shit. If you think the old layout looked better, check yourself cause it was not crackin.

Kinda Hot In These Rhinos!

2010-06-22T02:06:00.000-07:00

This has absolutely nothing to do with SHIT except that I absolutely love Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls and nothing puts a smile on my face quite like the scene where Ace ejects himself from a mechanical rhinoceroses ass. That is all.

And off I go now, to look for a life...

Looks Like Anotha Love TKO: Bouchon Bakery

2010-06-09T17:44:00.001-07:00

Today, my small-handed, pastry-molesting friend Gabby busted through my unlocked door and I almost slammed my baseball bat into her face because I thought she was a sex offender (which she is in her own special way.) I'm glad I didn't knock her ass out because she was holding a box of pastries from the BOUCHON BAKERY. In case you are retarded and don't know what that is, it's Thomas Keller's bakery in Yountville, CA. Thomas Keller is the culinary mastermind responsible for French Laundry, Per Se, Bouchon, Ad Hoc, and trillions of boners all around the world. Being that I am a brokeass hoodrat, touching food from his bakery is a big deal and putting it in my mouth has caused temporary blindness and I wish I wore a diaper today.

I tried the greatest chocolate anything I've ever had today. It is called the TKO cookie, which stands for the "Thomas Keller Oreo." I think. It's basically his interpretation of an oreo, made with a chocolate sable dough and white chocolate ganache filling. Whatever the hell chocolate sable dough is, it crumbles in my mouf ever so tenderly and I so desperately long for it.

We called the Las Vegas location to confirm with them that the Bouchon Bakery kiosk at the Venetian Hotel had these. THEY DO! (We're going to Vegas in August.) I have a fantasy of filling our hot tub with these, lighting candles, poppin' champagne, and having my way with a tub full of TKO's.

BEST macarons I've ever had. They were rather large and the chocolate tasted like a chocolate cake mixed with a brownie mixed with straight crack.

This croissant was a work of art. Light, buttery, flakey, and had a light crunch. Gabby and I always said that you know a croissant is good when you don't need to butter it. I ate it completely NUDE and loved every minute of it. We were both nude, the croissant and I.

We had to stop ourselves from eating the Nutter Butter that Gabs got for her boyfriend. It would be mean to eat someone elses gift from Bouchon. In fact, that's fucked up. But that did not stop us from placing our nostrils on it and attempting to snort it in hopes that crumbs flew into our mouths somehow.

Someone remind me to FedEx Thomas Keller a pair of my soiled panties with a post-it attached that says, "HURRY UP WITH THE BEVERLY HILLS BAKERY!!!!"

Salami Wars and Little Brother

2010-06-08T15:59:00.000-07:00

*WARNING* This post involves heavy referencing to salami's and I know that it will provoke everyone's urge to scream, "THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID!" With that being said, you have one of two options: just don't or become the asshole that abuses the joke.

I have been obsessively researching salami's for the past three weeks and I believe the quality of my life has improved one thousand percent. My research involved Googling, "Best Salami in the World" about fifteen times, lurking around various Italian deli's and Whole Foods locations in the Bay Area, and eating roughly 95 lbs of salami. I even started using salami terminology like "dry" and "chub." I felt like a woman when I asked the nice, old man at the corner store, "Do you only carry sliced salami or do you carry the chubs as well?"

Being that I hail from San Francisco, a city best known for its abundance of salami's, I have found that being surrounded by quality salami's can be confusing. After conducting extensive research on Chowhound and Yelp, I found that no one can be trusted because nobody has a palate more sophisticated and robust than my own when it comes to cured deli meats.

The first that I tried is from Gallo Salame and it came pre-sliced and packaged. I was desperate for salami and this is the only kind that the corner store had. This hit the spot but was nowhere near the level of quality of the other salamis I sampled. Grocery store pre-sliced salamis are limp, flaccid pieces of depression compared salamis that come in chub form, so I guess you can say that size definitely matters.

Many swear by the Molinari's salame because it has reigned supreme in San Francisco for centuries. Their chubs of Italian dry aged salame deserve the praise because they are fat, girthy gems of beefy porky goodness. I actually almost died eating this salami because there were only plastic knives at work and these things are STIFF. Amazing flavor and gorgeous speckled fat marbling on this bad boy. I tried to cut it and my knife exploded into approximately one thousand pieces and shards of broken plastic flew everywhere. If you have a power saw handy, that would be the best way to slice this hard chub up.

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Lastly, we have the clear-cut WINNER of the salami war, Fra'Mani Handcrafted Salametto. I copped this piece from Whole Foods on the way to a BBQ and boy was I a hit. According to reviews, this is a superb chunk of meat and from what I gathered after tasting it, the reviews were beyond correct. I probably love it because it is 3/4 fat and 1/4 fresh pork. The ingredients are all natural and they don't use nitrites which means it is healthy. Thus, you can down as many of these logs as you like while maintaining your girlish figures. This sexy sausage is clearly for the LADIES.

I spotted this work of art on the ladies room wall of Dalva. It looks like a species of salami that may or may not be digestible.

IN HIP HOP NEWS....PHONTE SIGNED MY TOOF BRUSH!

Don't mind my girl, Steph drooling all over everything. What a goddamn animal.

LITTLE BROTHER! This night ended with a little projectiling on the sidewalk, crying for my mother, Steph spoon feeding me pupusas, and being laughed at by a whole Mariachi band for being a hotass mess.

Eastbay Ridin': Pizzaiolo & Lanesplitter Pizza

2010-05-30T08:54:00.000-07:00

Up until recently, I did not enjoy Oakland because it seemed as though every time I set foot in Oakland, all hell broke loose. Crackheads would constantly run in front of my car and scream at me. At the Jack in the Box drive-thru, a bum lady hit on me and threw loose change at me. I got my cell phone stolen and a midget ran at full-speed into my face, which made me bleed profusely. And the stories go on and on and on and on (my cipher keeps rollin like a rollin stone). I had no choice but to return to Oakland because 1) I do not learn lessons, 2) I have friends that live there and I am desperate for company, and 3) the FOOD is crackin.

Last Friday, my friends and I decided that we needed to hit up Pizzaiolo in Temescal because we are classy sons-o-bitches. So after work, I grabbed a 40 of Mickey's, jumped in my friend Gabby's curry-scented Corolla, and headed across the bridge to Oakland.

Had to assure the guy at the liquor store that just because I am not in high school, it does not mean I can't enjoy a Mickey's once in a while.

All we knew was that this pizza place was in Temescal on Telegraph Ave and constantly crowded. We spotted a pizza place on a street corner that was infested with hipsters and fixed gears, so we assumed that it must be Pizzaiolo. After waiting for a table and being seated, we realized we were at Lanesplitters Pizza and not Pizzaiolo. Apparently, the five of us lacked the competence to read the huge sign outside that said "Lanesplitters". That's a group of Asian girls for ya. Being that we were ravenous, we decided to split a large pizza and give the place a go because it must have been crowded for a reason.

We copped a half "Heartstopper" and half "Splitter", which was fucking enormous. This is a slice of the "Heartstopper", which consisted of bacon, gorgonzola, roasted garlic, and spinach. Whoever thought of this is brilliant and panties off to you, sir.

I also had a glass of a beer called Death and Taxes by the Moonlight Brewing Company. I ordered it for the name alone, but it was delicious considering it was a black beer and I don't drink beer any shade darker than my own piss.

We were still hell-bent on trying Pizzaiolo, so we walked up an entire block to the right place and put our names down on the list. We consulted amongst each other and decided that we should probably just go to Fenton's and get ice cream since we already ate a whole pizza. But the saintly gentleman at the front convinced us to stay by giving us glasses of rose and telling us that they had bees and chicken's in the back. He also mistook us for high school students and asked us if we "just got off of school."

A step up from the Franzia that we usually guzzle straight out of the box.

Got a cocktail called the Bungole USA or something along the lines of that. It was good, had a strong ginger flavor, and it was pink. I usually don't drink pink drinks in public because it makes me look vulnerable to rapists but I love them on the low because I possess child-like wonder.

Being that we didn't want to go overboard and had just eaten a hugeass pizza, we decided to get three pizzas. Yeah, WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH US?

Got two of the Monterey Bay squid, tomato sauce, and aioli pizza's, which was my favorite. Aioli as a pizza topping is a gift from Jesus Christ to fat people. I sacrificed my cat to Jesus when I got home to show my gratitude.

Potato, pancetta, fontina, and rosemary. We added an egg to the pizza because we are educated, sophisticated, and worldly young hoodrats that shop at Whole Foods and pretend to listen to NPR.

So this is not a pizza competition because both places offer completely different pies and atmospheres. If you want a laid-back place with excellent New York-style thin crust and an extensive beer selection, go with Lanesplitters. Just beware of the wait, generous portions, and hipster asscracks. If you want somewhere a touch more dignified, specialty cocktails and a wine list, an outdoor patio, and less traditional toppings, hit up Pizzaiolo. Both places generally made me feel like this:

Flame Throwers

2010-05-28T09:33:00.000-07:00

I just realized that my life is missing something very important. What is it, you ask? A FLAME THROWER. A fucking big one. So if anyone wants to hook a bitch up, let's talk. In exchange, I will sear anything/anyone for you.

Tenderizing my loins in the Tenderloin

2010-05-19T20:55:00.000-07:00

I am in very deep denial about this, but I am slowly beginning to realize that my days in San Francisco are numbered because I will be relocating my ass to LA to pursue my dreams of becoming a video ho and to find myself a wealthy Persian husband. I am well aware of the fact that SF shits on LA in every conceivable way but I am very much a masochist and prefer to live under oppressive conditions. If you know me personally, you are probably going to cry yourself to sleep every night without me, so you should seize this opportunity to shower me with burritos, dutch crunch bread, and 40's.

Since I don't have much time left, I figure I need to spend as much time as I can in my favorite part of town, the Tenderloin (next to Clement Street and Lower Irving, of course). Magical things happen to me when I come here. Just the other day when I was waiting to cross the street, an extremely homeless man linked arms with me and exclaimed, "TAKE ME WITH YOU!" I responded with, "Where to m'lady?" And he said, "Anywhere! Just take me with you!" I promptly jumped on his back and we ran off into the sunset. I spent the remainder of the evening cornrowing his muttonchops as he spoon fed me a bowl of refried beans.

Whaaaat the fuck am I even talking about anymore?

Okay so, Red Crawfish on Larkin and Eddy is a lot like Boiling Crab in San Jose, only on crack. In addition to spiced and buttered seafood that you eat with your hands, they have a bunch of entrees, noodle dishes, soup, and an extensive beverage list that includes avocado milkshakes and Thai tea. Basically, it's an Asian wonderland.

Garlic noodles was the ooooone.

Who the hell batters sweet potato fries?? (I'm really not mad doe) Also, the Cajun fries will set that bootyhole on fire.

Garlic butter scrimps was bangin.

The crawfish were FAT and most definitely shit on the rollie polies I got at Boiling Crab. (Again, not hating, just keepin it one hunnid.)

GARLIC WANGS. Yes, we did eat THAT much garlic. Me and Jenn stay eatin like every day's our birthday.

My little brown friend, Gabby put me onto another spot that's right up the street from Red Crawfish called Lers Ros. It's one of my new favorite Thai restaurants in the city because the menu features a bold assortment of meats like rabbit, alligator, and venison. I didn't order any of that shit because it was hella more expensive as in double the price of the regular priced items, which are extremely cheap ($6-$9). Also, that meat sounds sketch.

The yellow coconut milk curry with my personal favorite, DUCK. I just painted my nails yellow and I think the best part about it is that no one can tell if your nails are curry stained or not. Ah, the perks of being a lady.

The pork belly with crispy rinds with basil leaves. My people call this lechon kawali, which is tagalog for "quadruple bypass surgery."

We also ordered crab fried rice, catfish, and sticky rice...BANG BANG!!!

That two block radius has some of the best Vietnamese and Thai food in San Francisco. If you ever need pho, banh mi, duck soup, crawfish, etc...fuck driving all the way to San Jo and go to the Tenderloin. So what if you find a person of questionable gender taking a dump in your truck bed, at least you will have a gut full of delicious and an amazing story for the grand kids.

Now let me tell you about parking lot PIMPIN. It is imperative for one to pre-party before hitting up the spot because people at the bars/clubs are out to rob you. For example, Linzy and Trina here hit up the Grocery Outlet and picked up an $8 DELUXE magnum bottle of prosecco. You are correct, that is very fancy. And if you wanna very very fancy, you can cop that Cook's or Andre for like $5.99.

This bitch is tagging up walls like she's Banksy or some shit. But good lookin out though.

Community Is The Shit

2010-05-09T22:43:00.000-07:00

I LOVE the show Community on NBC because:

1) Chevy Chase as Pierce has the greatest one-liners, for example:

Jeff: You started having sex with Britta's ex-boyfriend!
Annie: What? We haven't even kissed.
Pierce: That doesn't mean you're not having sex.

2) Ken Jeong as SENOR CHANG is the new Jesus Christ.
3) ABED AND TROY (Donald Glover's stand-up makes me pee my gauchos on the regular, BTW.)
4) That's about it

*The first two things on the list are interchangeable.

Last week's episode, "Modern Warfare" was a masterpiece and hands down, the greatest episode yet. I almost choked on my mom's Mother's Day present (a box of Cinnabons) twice. Watch this episode of Community or you will die of terminal virginity:

WHERE YOU BEEN??

2010-05-06T10:11:00.000-07:00

Good question. My roommate (my mom) just asked me the sameass question and tried to force feed me bacon. I had to explain to her that I'm not supposed to gorge myself with bacon before a Bikram yoga class because it is likely that I will shart myself and arouse the hippies in my class. The last thing I need right now is to be impregnated by a hippie.

So to answer that first question, here is a sexy collection of photos from mainly my camera phone.

I've moved all of my stuff into El Zocalo on Mission street in San Francisco. I am literally here like everyday, face down in a pile of cheese con loroco pupusas. Their pupusa combo's are around $6 for two pupusas, beans, and platanos/sour cream AND they are open til like 2 or 3 on weekends. INCREDIBALLS.

Been working like a motherfucker but thank god for economy sized Philly Cheesesteak Hot Pockets, without which I would never get any work done.

After hearing many amazing things about Orson, I finally hit it up with my food yoda, Jenn and we tore that shit UPPPPP.

Hubbard iron doors are always + in my book.

BURRRRRRRRRata! Creamy, cheesy goodness on a slice of bread with some kind of fruit preserve. I am at a loss for words right now.

FUCK DAT FRIES or DUCK FAT FRIES...with brown butter bearnaise dipping sauce. Yeah, change those goddamn panties...they ain't clean right now.

A BIGASS chicken nugget with kimchee and fried kale. So basically we had a grown and sexy happy meal and I was FEELIN' IT.

Decided to take a walk on my lunch break and of course, I walked straight to Boccalone at the Ferry Building. Had to try the mixed salumi cone because that stud on the Food Network, Tyler Florence claimed it was the "best thing I ever ate." Tyler Florence claiming meat cones are the best thing he's ever eaten is lightweight suspect but he is onto something cause those salumis were BOMB.COM.

Crab cakes and mac and cheese from Public House, which is attached to AT&T park. This place slaps waaay harder than that Acme Chophouse shit that was there before. But seriously, the crab cakes were magnificent and could get it like everyday.

The next few images are kind of hard to explain but they were on my phone? Although the first one is of the dopest Asian man with a New York accent and his name is Dougie. Check his spot in Oakland out, it's called "Uncle Dougie's Italian Heroes." They make BOMB tequila lime wangs and meatloaf sandwiches.

It's been beautiful out in San Francisco, so I've been spending a shit ton of my time sitting around Dolores Park and drinking my little heart out. Hot tip: Don't wait in line for the bafroom, theres a church down Dolores with a nice little bathroom. Jesus don't mind. Speaking of which, I'm gonna go do that RIGHT NOW.....

PEACE BITCHES

Scraper Bike Recipe

2010-04-23T12:54:00.000-07:00

I've decided to diversify my hobbies and take up an activity besides binge eating because I enjoy a good challenge and my e-Harmony profile could use some sprucing up. Hot men aren't very responsive to chicks whose interests are limited to "accosting Del Taco employees for day old's and collecting free shit on Craigslist."

After many hours of deep reflection, I decided that BIKING would be the most reasonable hobby because San Francisco is known for its biker-friendly terrain and tame traffic conditions. With over 50 different hills, a plethora of narrow, one-way streets, and a dense population of Asian drivers, San Francisco is the ideal setting for novice bikers, especially those who are unfamiliar with exercise. I have a mountain bike, which has been working for me just fine, but I am in the market for something a little bit sleeker, a candy paint job and a touch of class. Here are some of the bikes that I've been looking at:

Thought this low-rider would be my speed because I like its proximity to the ground and the fact that it can accommodate my subwoofers. Although it has a tremendous amount of swag, its gaudiness is kinda suspect and lacks the stealth that I will need in case I need to make a fast getaway.

If this hipster-limbed Charlie Chaplin motherfucker can face plant on this, this shit will probably crumble into a rusty oblivion the minute my fatass even smiles at it.

Forget chemical warfare, these bikes are proof that Japanese modern artillery weapons are something that the U.S. should be concerned about. They're even recruiting former boyband members to join their militia, which causes both panic and excitement in my nether-regions. I don't want the bikes as much as I want them.

This is just sick. I am not worthy of resting my loins atop this bad boy but I just wanted to pay homage to its unparalleled glory and sex appeal. Heaven only knows how many babies were conceived atop its buttery surface.

Since I am a Bay bitch at heart, I decided to go with the almighty Oakland-originated Scraper Bike. This sort of bike doesn't even require me to buy a new bike, just some tin foil and scotch tape.

According to Urban Dictionary, a scraper bike is defined as: "A new trend that is a part of the San Francisco Bay Area Hyphy Movement in which people ride their tricked out bikes and go stupid, dumb, retarded while on their bikes. Generally, the bikes have nice designs, such as duo-tone paint jobs, and rims or spinners. The term was coined by the rap group Trunk Boiz of Oakland, California."

So here's my recipe for a Homemade Scraper Bike:

- A bike
- Aluminum foil
- Shiny wrapping paper
- Scotch tape
- Streamers

First, cover the spokes in aluminum foil. You can get creative with the design, I just went with a few triangles. Next, cover the handlebars in aluminum foil. For a candy paint effect, tape up the frame with shiny wrapping paper in sections. Add streamers or whatever sort of adornment or trinket you would like to add.

This is White Fury, I got her for my 11th birthday and we have been reeking havoc on the streets of the Bay Area for the past 12 years. I love her to death but that paint job is just way too early 90's for me and I'm not feelin that vintage shit so I needed to pimp this piece out.

Still tippin' on two 4's, wrapped in 44's, etc.

ALL CHROME EVERYTHING. Its clean, right???

Candy Paint.. Peanut Butter.. them gold things got me tight for the summer..

BLAP MOTHAFUCKA! Shit went from Steve Urkel to Stefan in under 5 minutes. If anyone has any suggestions as to how I can mount my subwoofers onto this beauty, it would be greatly appreciated.

I'm gonna throw in some pictures of some cupcakes because I realize this is a food blog and I can't be writing about bikes like they're edible even though that candy paint job got a few licks.

Kara's Cupcakes in the Marina are the SHIT. Holler at that chocolate and s'more one time and you will inseminate yourself with some of the finest cakes in the Bay.

The Essence of a Good Night: R. Kelly, Edibles, & Ribs

2010-04-12T20:49:00.000-07:00

When I was seven years old, I watched waaaaaay too much MTV Jams and my favorite song on the planet was "Bump N' Grind" by R. Kelly. I spent the better part of 1993 profusely gyrating like a sexually frustrated midget to this song and so naturally, I begged my mother for his album entitled, "12 Play." Needless to say, this horrified my Catholic mother to no end and so she immediately scheduled a hysterectomy for herself and her perverted child (me). And just like that, I was spayed--like a cat.

Just kidding...my mother didn't spay me in the name of R. Kelly.

But it is true that neither of my parents would buy this album for me because they were sensible people, but I admit that it only made me a bigger fan of R. Kelly. That was short lived because several years later, we all found out that he was the one lurking around America's playgrounds handing out packets of Gushers and asking toddlers if they wanted to play "Candyland" in his white van. In other words, he scared the shit out of me. I've actually been legitimately afraid of him until the other day when my friend showed me the following music video:

I am convinced that this is the single most sensational thing that I have ever seen. If you didn't watch it, you are a moron and you should GET OUT OF HERE. I don't think it gets any better than when he says, "And when you need a break, I'll let you up, I'll let you breathe, wash your face, get something to eat, and then come back to the bedroom." That's likely to be the most romantic song lyric of all time. Most people would probably lay low and avoid singing about sex after being publicly identified as a sexual deviant, but no...not R. Kelly. Although he is criminally insane and I know that it is unethical to support such a derelict weirdo, I have to admit that there is a level of genius that only him and Mike Tyson possess and they each hold a piece of my heart.

Eating this cookie really enhanced the experience 1000%.

On that magical evening, my friends and I also made BACON MAC AND CHEESE CUPCAKES.

We just used Paula Deen's recipe for mac & cheese (which calls for the use of canned Cheddar soup) and added bacon to it. The only reason they are cupcakes is because we baked them in a muffin tray. We looked really cute buying cans of Cheddar soup and fist fighting eachother at the Redbox machine on a Friday night.

My, what a gorgeous rack. My homie Steph's little brother, Jon made these gorgeously mind-blowing ribs.

I ended up passing out in a massage chair/death trap that night. I woke up once, got laughed at by my friends, and was told that I looked like a famous musical sensation. They said "Little Richard", but I heard "Beyonce".

I Cook, People Get Hurt

2010-04-05T20:23:00.000-07:00

I have been on an insane cooking hype lately because I have discovered that I am a budding Auguste Escoffier in the kitchen. Okay, that was kind of a stretch, I am sure he is convulsing in his grave somewhere and chef's all around the world are frantically searching for my address so that they can shit on my lawn. As there is already enough shit on my lawn, I will retract that statement and admit that when I cook, I have the grace of an armless Sandra Lee on quaaludes. For those of you who don't know who Sandra Lee is, she is the crazy bitch on the Food Network that made this monstrosity:

'
SMH x100000000000000000000000000

If you know me at all, you know that I have an affinity for Ranch dressing and chicken wings. I don't know if I eat chicken wings for the Ranch or if I eat the Ranch for the wings. What I do know is, I am a genius for wanting to make a hybrid of the two by making RANCH CHICKEN WINGS. This is the recipe I stole from this website:

Ingredients

* 1 pound chicken wings
* 1 cup all-purpose flour
* Oil for deep-fat frying
* 1 envelope ranch salad dressing mix
* 1 teaspoon minced garlic
* 1/2 teaspoon salt
* 1/2 teaspoon pepper

Directions

* Cut chicken wings into three sections; discard wing tips. Place flour in a large resealable plastic bag; add chicken wings, a few at a time, and shake to coat.
* In an electric skillet or deep-fat fryer, heat oil to 375°. Fry chicken wings, a few at a time, for 8 minutes or until golden brown and crispy and juices run clear, turning occasionally. Drain on paper towels.
* In a large resealable plastic bag, combine the dressing mix, garlic, salt and pepper; add chicken wings, a few at a time, and shake to coat. Place chicken in a greased 15-in. x 10-in. x 1-in. baking pan. Sprinkle with remaining salad dressing mixture. Bake, uncovered, at 350° for 8-10 minutes or until coating is set. Yield: 1 dozen.

Coated these shits in flour.

Fried them without causing injury to myself or anyone around me which was shocking/delightful.

Two envelopes of inexpensive powdered sex.

Sprinkled the crack atop the fried goodness and popped it in the oven.

And just like that, I was richer than the richest, CERTIFIED GETTIN IT.

This dish caused no one any harm and it was relatively easy to make. But don't get too impressed because the next meal was pretty lethal. I invited my friends over because I was going to cook dinner and rent movies so that we could have a normal, non-bizarre weekend for a change. I decided to go the Italian route and make spinach-stuffed Portobello mushrooms, some kind of creamy pancetta pasta, and a Caprese salad.

The spinach-stuffed Portobello mushroom. Gutted and grilled the portobellos. Sauteed garlic, onions, salt, pepper, and chopped pancetta. Added a little bit of cream and let it simmer, then I added the spinach. Put the spinach mixture in the shrooms, topped it with shaved parmesan cheese and bread crumbs. Drizzied it with olive oil and popped it in the oven for like 10 minutes at 325 degrees. I pulled this recipe from between my anus and rectum, so I'm not sure exactly how it ended up being so delicious.

The pasta was easy. Sauteed more garlic and onions in olive oil, added the pancetta and fried it. Put in some cream, milk, parmesan cheese, and tomato sauce and let it simmer. Added some egg noodles and just waited til the noodles were cooked. I saw Giada do this with egg noodles so I figured I could do it too. Added some fresh chopped basil and tomatoes to it and put it in a large ceramic bowl with cat cartoons on it. BLAP!

Way too easy. Just chopped up tomatoes, a slice of fresh mozzarella, stacked em, topped them with basil leaves and drizzied them with balsamic vinegar and olive oil. We made sexy time.

As you might have noticed, I used a shit ton of CHEESE in everything. This made everything really tasty and crackin' BUT what I failed to realize was that putting that much dairy in one meal will result in violent flatulence. Thus, I invited my friends over and ended up giving them a case of extreme BUTT TRUMPET. Very cute.

Lastly, I cooked a meal that didn't disturb any bowels BUT my friends almost died of smoke inhalation. I invited them over for Korean-style chicken wings, my interpretation of cole slaw, gzoya, and a strawberry trifle-esque cake. They reluctantly showed up. Long story short, I overheated the oil by 1000 degrees, dropped the chicken in, it turned black, a thicket of smoke engulfed my house, and everyone was on the lawn, coughing and bleeding. For some reason, my friends went back in and helped me cook the rest of the meal. What sweet, desperate people they are.

I am a huge fan of Kyo-Chon, which is a Korean fried chicken place in Los Angeles and you can learn more about that obsession by checking out this review I did of it. I found the following recipe on a blog that I don't remember and can't find anymore. The blog was presumably written by Koreans or people who like Korean fried chicken (which could be ANYONE). Whatever, hats off to you whoever you are because this shit cracked.

Kyo-chon Fried Chicken

INGREDIENTS

* 1 Chicken, cut up
* 1/4 c. Starch
* 1/4 c. Flour
* 1 Tbsp. Garlic Powder
* 2 cloves Garlic, crushed
* 2 tsp. Sugar
* 1 tsp. Ginger Powder
* 1/2 tsp. Black Pepper
* 1 tsp. Salt
* 1 tsp. Baking Soda
* Water (enough to make a thick batter)
* Oil, for frying

1. Rinse and dry the chicken.

2. Combine all the dry ingredients. Add water a little at a time until it becomes a thick batter, like pancake batter.

3. Heat the oil to 350 degrees F.

4. Dip the chicken pieces, one at a time, in the batter. Let the excess drip off and fry them in the oil for around five minutes. Don’t overcrowd. Fry just a few at a time.

5. Drain and serve immediately

Alright so I changed it a little bit cause it lacked a little bit of the sweetness that the Kyo-Chon wangs have so I lightly some sprinkled sugar on the wings after I fried em and popped them in the oven for a bit. After that, it came out pretty delicious. My friend Erika loved them and she used to be the one to go to Kyo-Chon with me all the time. Then again, she was drunk so her opinion halfway doesn't count because intoxication = a lack of discrimination toward any sort of food.

Kyo-Chon serves a slaw of cabbage, mayo, and ketchup which is a nice gesture but lightweight gross. I pimped it out by using green and red cabbage, avocado, and corn then using a dressing made of mayo, chili powder, lemon juice, salt, and a little bit of sugar. It was like a hybrid between an elote and a cole slaw with avocado.

I put Jizzo in charge of bringing Ling Ling's and she delivered. I killed them by trying to fry them while still frozen and it resulted in SMOKE INHALATION ROUND 2.

Strawberries were 3 packs for $5.00 at the store so I made this. Layered store bought angel cake between a mixture of marscapone, cream, sugar, vanilla, strawberry puree, and chopped strawberries. Very Sandra Lee.

I guess I got strawberry puree on my shirt while making the cake and so it looks like Borat's eyeball exploded. Sexy time, indeed.

I've learned that there are scientific consequences involved when cooking and if you are not careful, you could potentially kill your guests. Fortunately, my homies are desperate for free meals and have resilient lungs.

*After reading this post over, I am really confused as to why I thought I would be qualified to write a food blog. Two years into this and I'm even more unqualified than the day I started.

Lost My Red Lobster V-Card

2010-04-02T16:11:00.000-07:00

I am a shitty blog updater because I am the type of blogger that doesn't actually own my own computer. As pathetic as it is, I have been using my younger brothers computer in exchange for packages of Top Ramen. Unfortunately, in addition to being small and defenseless, he never got the hang of using opposable thumbs and so long story short, he broke his computer screen. Thus, I have become computerless, which has completely obliterated my social life and I have been forced to resort to a life of crime. Right now, I am actually blogging from a payphone in Tijuana that happens to be located inside of a Mexican jail.

ANYWAYS...my colleagues Linzy and T(r)ina and I had some grown woman discussions that we needed to take care of the other night so we decided to hold a bidness dinner. As boss ladies, we needed to choose the proper venue because we know how important it is to throw around business jargon in our pant suits over a fine meal. After several days of intense contemplation, diligent Yelping, and non-stop mud wrestling, we settled on Red Lobster because for one, I had never been and two, I am not one to turn down cheddar biscuits...NOT NEVER.

Since there are ZERO Red Lobster locations in San Francisco, we had to travel 69 miles beyond city limits to a quaint little town called San Bruno. Sometimes it's nice to get out of the city and mingle with the laid back country folk. Apparently, Red Lobster is the Hollywood Boulevard of San Bruno because the place was packed, there was a 30 minute wait, and a topsy-tailed door Nazi was manning the entrance, telling people to talk to the hand. The wait turned out to be okay because as economically efficient women, we came prepared with a 12 pack and large purses.

Although ugly, tote bags are convenient for storing most varieties of liquor. I once had a friend who owned a tote bag so large that it fit an entire full-sized jug of Carlo Rossi. They are also inconspicuous because they are popular with the elderly and people who shop at Whole Foods.

Quietly retreated to the restroom to change eachothers diapers and shotgun some beers. This practice is customary at most restaurants located west of the Mississippi and east of Las Vegas.

After being led to our luxuriously spacious VIP booth in the Champagne Room, we were lovingly showered with baskets of these cheesy golden delights. I was truly blown away by the savory tenderness better known as the Cheddar Bay biscuits. My palate concluded that they are made up of one part Bisquick, two parts grade double-A refined Connecticut Velveeta and three parts New England butt chowder.

We all ordered the platter that came with lobster, a shrimp skewer, and shrimp scampi. The platters were garnished with a stainless steel vat of clarified "I Can't Believe It's Not Butter."

The lobster. It was surprisingly non-toxic and I was able to retain control of my bowel movement. So, we're friends :)

Me and the shrimp scampi became more than friends. I get along with most things that are sitting in a bed of butter and encrusted with cheese.

Red Lobster is a fine establishment and is an ideal place to conduct business meetings, birthday parties, surgical consultations, YOU NAME IT. I was so pleased that I even wrote Red Lobster an e-mail with a few compliments and suggestions. It went like so:

I visited one of your restaurants for the first time yesterday and I was completely blown away by the quality of your Cheddar Bay biscuits. Although, I found your seafood and other offerings to be satisfactory, I felt as though the biscuits were the stand-out hit of the entire meal.

Being that your restaurant has already established a devoted following and assuming that your business is open to maintaining and expanding that following, it would be beneficial for you and your patrons to consider opening an express window. I have spoken to a number of people about this idea and they agreed that they would frequent your restaurant more often if there was an express window. Many people simply do not have the time to enjoy the full dining experience at your restaurants but would love to pick up several dozen of your biscuits and shrimp on their way home from work. It would be a quick, convenient option for your busier patrons. Perhaps even implementing an online ordering system, which would increase the efficiency and accuracy of the ordering process.

Please take my suggestion into consideration and feel free to contact me if you have any further questions or simply seek my expert opinion.

Thank you.

I signed it as "Boo Thang." I am very suave and am a connoisseur when it comes to writing love letters. They promptly responded with this:

Dear Ms. Thang,

Thank you for taking the time to contact us. It is always a pleasure to hear from our guests.

We appreciate your suggestions and have forwarded your comments to the right departments for consideration.

Again, thank you for taking the time to share your comments. Please do not hesitate to contact us, if we may be of further assistance.

Sincerely,

Russell
Senior Guest Relations Representative

Russell and I have been online dating ever since. This is a picture of our children:

"Ravenous Pack of She-Wolves"

2010-03-24T22:54:00.001-07:00

So, my buddies Jenn and Raf like to refer to my friends and I as a "Ravenous Pack of She-wolves." I like this label because for one, it just sounds cool and two, it sure beats the nickname I use for us in my head, which is "Vague, Fat, Blind Inertia." I'll admit that I have no clue what the fuck "she-wolves" are so I Google image searched it and I found this amazing picture...

These armed, leaf-wearing chicks are bangin, so I assume that Jenn and Raf are calling us sexy. I'm not entirely sure if this is the cover of an animated porn DVD or not because I found this blurb beneath the photo: "The fate of the entire world hangs in the balance as a bevy of scantily clad beauties do battle in sprawling junkyards and treacherous gravel pits in order to determine the ultimate female warrior." ....Yeah, that's us alright.

I do my most destructive eating when I'm with my friends because we all share an affinity for collecting back fat and lack common sense, self-awareness, motor skills, etc. We literally have nothing else in common but when friends share common vices (chicken wings), most other things tend to be irrelevant. So all that is left to do is get our drank on and do hoodrat things with eachother.

For example, last week we celebrated St. Patrick's Day in style--at the new Hooters in San Bruno's signature dirt mall, Tanforan. Keep in mind, we are Asian and generally confused about Caucasian customs, so we WOULD think this is an appropriate place to celebrate St. Patrick's Day. I am proud to announce we weren't stupid enough to drink green beer. That's like shitting yourself and wearing your soiled underwear around your neck. People with green beer mouth are just asking for a beating/an arrest and will under no circumstances get laid. This rule also applies to people who wear shoes that look like this:

WANGS, FRIED PICKLES, and PITCHER UPON PITCHER OF BEER.

There are times in my life when I sit back and think to myself, "Damn girl, you have made it in this world." After I re-garnished this beer and photographed it, I had one of those moments. REVEL IN MY GLORY.

We were abruptly removed from the restaurant after Gabby coerced our waitress into eating a cookie that she snuck in and creepily demanded that she be named the manager of Hooters. Ended the night by barfing along the Guadalupe Canyon. So romantic.

Example #2 of our ravenous she-wolving..."BRUNCH"

A menagerie of Girl Scout Cookies atop the bar.

Brunch at Zazie's in Cole Valley, SF.

MANGO MIMOSA. This was retarded good but my only gripe would be that they weren't bottomless, so I'm not entirely sure you could classify this meal as brunch. Brunch is not brunch unless you walk away cross-eyed and pantsless.

Even though there was an absence of free-flowing alcohol, they completely redeemed themselves with their POACHED EGGS. I got the one with CRAB AND AVOCADO. Okay, I've been sitting here trying to think of the right words to describe how violently sexy these eggs are, but I cannot find words to express its greatness. BEYONCE. These are just, plain BEYONCE.

After a long day of waiting for the sun to go down so that we could eat dinner at a socially acceptable hour, me and Jizzo hit up PHAT PHILLY on Valencia and 24th. Got the California Cheesesteak with Kobe beef, cheese whiz, bacon, caramelized onions, and avocado AND waffle fries. I would sell my future children for one of these. Kind of like how you can pre-order video games and DVD's before they come out.

This is me and my She-Wolfpack congregating in our breakdancing circle. Don't get it twisted, I can still cut up a rug after all that insane eating.

I Tries To Make Pies

2010-03-21T20:18:00.000-07:00

If any of you ever fantasize about what I look like when I am writing in my blog (which I'm sure approximately 100% of you do), I decided to take a photo of myself using my webcam. If you are on a public computer, I should remind you that it is unlawful to do anything Jesus wouldn't do with it in public. Although, I admit that the sight of my angelic, flawlessly sculpted face has been known to turn the purest of Amish ladies/monks/televangelists into rouged-knee harlots.

"9,000 lbs of BEEFCAKE + a flock of peacocks + Fabio's bush = .0004% of this He-man's DNA" is what is written on my medical records. And yes, my eggs ARE for sale if you have a black AMEX card or own a foie gras farm.

So I stole this Neopolitan Pizza recipe from the Food Network website (which you can find here) but somehow, I think I added 4,000 more calories to this pizza because I have a propensity to abuse cheese. I have never made pizza in my life so this was kind of challenging being that I made everything from scratch. Honestly, I don't even think I've ever made a frozen one...

Ingredients

Pizza Dough:

* 8 ounces water
* 1/8-ounce yeast
* 1/4-ounce salt
* 1 pound bread flour
* 1/8 cup olive oil
* 1/8 cup cornmeal

Tomato sauce:

* 2 ounces salt pork or fat back (I used pancetta)
* 1 onion, diced
* 2 cloves garlic, minced
* 16 ounces crushed plum tomatoes
* 4 ounces tomato puree
* 8 ounces beef stock
* 1 bay leaf
* Pinch thyme
* 1/2-ounce salt

Toppings (Use as much of each topping as you want, I know I did):

* Pancetta
* Fresh mozzarella
* Shredded fontina
* Shaved parmesan
* Basil

Directions

Place the water in a large bowl or mixer with a dough hook. Dissolve the yeast in the water. Add the remaining ingredients except cornmeal and mix on low speed until a ball is formed. Change to medium speed and mix approximately for 1 to 2 minutes until a smooth and elastic dough is formed. Remove the dough from the bowl, cut the dough into 2 portions, roll into tight balls and place in lightly oiled sheet pan, cover and let proof for a minimum of 4 hours. Preheat oven to 425 degrees F. To make the sauce, place the salt pork in a large sauce pot and render the fat. Add the onions and saute until translucent. Add the garlic and saute until the aroma is apparent. Add the crushed tomatoes, puree, and stock to the pot and bring to a simmer. Add the bay leaf, thyme, and salt and allow to simmer for 1 1/2 hours. Remove the bay leaf, puree the sauce and adjust the seasonings. Once the dough is ready, roll each piece out using a rolling pin until dough in approximately 1/4-inch thick. Spoon some tomato sauce on top of the dough. Layer the mozzarella, place the pizza on a sheet pan dusted with cornmeal and bake for 10 to 15 minutes until crispy and golden. Garnish with basil leaves.

I made the dough by putting the yeast, flour, water, salt, and olive oil in a Large Hadron Collider . But common folk don't own those, so you can just use a KitchenAid mixer and get similar results.

I taught Chef Boyardee/Emeril/Mario Batali how to cook sauces. They aren't even close to being my star pupils, but then again, no one can work a tomato like I can.

After refrigerating this ball of dough for 4 hours, you're supposed to roll it out. It looks easy on TV but it's not even remotely close to easy and I would probably ace the LSAT's before I'd roll this into anything circular.

A plethora of fine, expensive cheeses that were imported from far away, European dairy farms.

Murdered the assailants.

Distribute as generously as humanly possible-as if your sick, sad life depended on the amount of cheese on it.

OSTENTATIOUS, YOU SAY? Why thank you...my sullied pantaloons seem to agree. I know we're in a recession but there's no way in hell I am going to scrimp on pizza toppings.

Apparently, I also made a Glazed Apple Cream Pie and got the recipe from RIGHT HERE. (I know this is a recipe for a "cream pie" but I promise this isn't a link to porn.)

Ingredients

* 1/2 cup white sugar
* 1/2 cup milk
* 1/2 cup heavy cream
* 1/4 cup butter
* 2 tablespoons cornstarch
* 2 tablespoons milk
* 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
* 2 tart apples - peeled, cored and sliced
* 1 tablespoon all-purpose flour
* 1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
* 1 (15 ounce) package pastry for double-crust pie
* 1/2 cup confectioners' sugar
* 1 tablespoon milk
* 1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract
* 1 tablespoon butter, softened

Directions

1. In a medium saucepan over medium heat, combine 1/2 cup sugar, 1/2 cup milk, 1/2 cup cream, and 1/4 cup butter. Heat until butter is melted, stirring occasionally. In a small bowl, whisk together the cornstarch, 2 tablespoons milk, and vanilla; stir into saucepan. Cook until thickened, stirring constantly. Remove from heat, and set aside to cool slightly.
2. Preheat oven to 400 degrees F (200 degrees C). In a medium bowl, combine the apples, flour, and cinnamon. Mix well.
3. Line a 9 inch pie pan with pie dough. Pour thickened filling mixture into pastry-lined pie pan. Arrange apple mixture evenly over filling. Top with second crust, seal and flute the edges. Cut slits in top crust.
4. Bake for 30 to 40 minutes, or until crust is golden brown and apples are tender. Cool for at least 30 minutes.
5. In small bowl, combine confectioners' sugar, 1 tablespoon milk, 1/4 teaspoon vanilla, and 1 tablespoon softened butter. Blend until smooth; pour evenly over warm pie. Refrigerate for AT LEAST 1 1/2 hours before serving (longer is better).

I already made one pie crust from scratch, you've gotta be shittin' me if you think I'll do it twice in this lifetime. That's where Betty Crocker comes in and saves the day.

Like so.

Rolling the dough out made me cry and shit my pants, I wouldn't recommend it to anyone who isn't already depressed.

Chopped up a Pink Lady apple and doused it in cinnamon and possibly other substances that may or may not be bodily?

The CREAM filling, which is pretty much just butter, sugar, and straight up booty.

Sealed the fillings between the crusts and popped that shit in the oven for a while.

Came out lookin go'geous and I glazed it with more sugar, vanilla, and liquid stuff.

BLAP! Made it my son.

And that folks, is how you make delicious cat food.

Internet Beef, Ceviche, & Pie

2010-03-12T11:54:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, I was taken aback by a startling e-mail that I received from a fellow named "Casper" from Yelp.com HQ. It contained this message:

Hi Mel,

We're writing to let you know about our decision to remove your review of Tortilla Coast. Your review was flagged by the Yelp community, and our Support team has determined that it falls outside our Review Guidelines (http://www.yelp.com/faq#great_review) because it lacks a first-hand experience of the business.

We review every situation with detail and take the removal of reviews very seriously.

Regards,
Casper
Yelp User Support
San Francisco, California

Yelp Official Blog | http://officialblog.yelp.com
Yelp Frequently Asked Questions | http://www.yelp.com/faq

Removed Review: I have never been here but it gets 5 stars because its called the TORTILLA COAST. 'Nuff said.

.......................uhhhhhh, what may I ask is wrong with giving a FIVE STAR REVIEW to a place you've never been to? It's not my fault it's inconveniently located across the country in WASHINGTON D.C. Trust, if it was in San Francisco, I would be Tortilla Coasting my ass off but it's not and I'll give a place 5 stars for being properly named if I damn well feel like, AIGHT CASPER??

Also, T-Coast better watch out cause they got some haters monitoring and flagging their reviews pretty aggressively. I'd say more threatening things but the T-Coast is located on Capitol Hill, so its possible the Feds are the ones hating on The Coast. I don't want to make any speculations as to why the Feds may be trying to conspire with Yelp against the Tortilla Coast but all I have to say is, have mercy on them because all they're trying to do is serve margaritas and (probably) mediocre tacos to lowly staffers on The Hill. Again, I'm not trying to make any false accusations because I don't want to end up in the FBI Headquarters building, getting cavity searched because I accidentally uncovered some kind of government conspiracy against bootleg Mexican restaurants on the eastcoast. Although, that would mean I get to visit my friend, Steph in D.C. and then I could visit Ben's Chili Bowl :)

On a lighter note, I ate delicious ceviche the other day at La Mar Cebicheria Peruana in San Francisco. It's located along the Embarcadero at Pier 1.5, which is next to the Ferry Building. Me and my homie went to grab drinks and noms around 3 on a Sunday, so we were there in between lunch and dinner hours. We were limited to ordering from the bar area and all we could order was ceviche and causas, which was okay because they were amazing and I didn't have to unbutton my jeans afterward.

*WARNING: These photographs that I look MYSELF are disturbingly arousing.*

This is a Peruvian beer called Cusquena. It was light, delicious and complimented the sea creatures beautifully because it was like having a beer aquarium in my mouth.

Bombass plantain and potato chips with a trio of salsa-esque dips that made my butt quiver with delight.

This is the Causa Casera. The top is a mix of artichokes, asparagus, avocado and
tomato confit with basil cilantro oil and the bottom portion is made of purple potato. It looks like play dough but tastes like sexy.

Got the cebiche tasting with 4 different kinds of cebiche. It came with the Mixto (Mahi-mahi, octopus, and calamari), Chifa (Mahi-mahi with Chinese accoutrements), Clasico (halibut), and Nikei (ahi tuna).

The Nikei. Check out that gorgeous avocado arrangement...#killyoself

The Chifa was my favorite because they were smart enough to incorporate fried wontons into the cebiche. Fried + Raw Seafood = Nudity.

Naturally, I needed some pie after all that light freshness. Hit up Mission Pie for some gorgeous pies and coffee. They pride themselves on being green/sustainable/organic and all that good stuff, which is admirable and makes me feel slightly less fat, even though I know none of those practices guarantee weight loss.

Banana skeet pie.

Shaker lemon pie.

I think the best part of my experience was the charming youth working behind the counter who was shamelessly rapping along to every song on the radio while reluctantly helping customers. Reminded me of a younger me.

On a side note, I hopped up out of bed, turned my swag on, took a look in the mirror and said, "You look like Rick James today." Thank god for hot irons.

Domestication: Cuban Food & Coconut Cake

2010-03-08T19:50:00.000-08:00

After watching Julie & Julia with my mom, I immediately slit my wrists and watched "Hood 2 Hood" 4 times in a row in attempt to rid myself of the filth that I had just witnessed. Under no circumstances should anyone watch this movie NOT under the influence of mushrooms. Meryl Streep talking in that obnoxious Julia Child's voice instantly blew out my left and right ear drums and that Peter Pan-looking broad's haircut is singlehandedly responsible for every case of clinical depression in America. Then again, so are the "bangs" that I gave myself with my roommates kitchen scissors. Anyhow, the movie reminded me that I should join the rest of the food blogging/adult female community and cook something once in a while.

Thank goodness I decided to cook because I am a cooking GOD. I am the MANNY PACQUIAO of the kitchen (DIE CLOTTEY). As you might recall from previous Cuban-related posts, I am very good at eating Cuban food and I figured I would be equally as good at cooking it, which turns out to be true. I made camarones al ajillo aka garlic shrimp (with some red snapper because I had extra lying around), Arroz Moro aka white rice with Cuban black beans, and platanos aka plantains.

Here's the garlic shrimp recipe from epicurian.com. I made some modifications because I did it a little bit different.

CAMARONES Y RED SNAPPER AL AJILLO

INGREDIENTS:
1/2 cup pure Spanish olive oil or more to taste
10 garlic, finely chopped
1 pound prawns or medium shrimp
2 red snapper filets
1/3 cup flour
ice cubes
salt and pepper
4-5 tomatillos
juice of 2 limes
pinch of dried oregano
1/4 cup finely chopped fresh cilantro

Directions:
In a large skillet over low heat, heat the oil until it is fragrant, then cook the garlic and tomatillos, stirring, 1 to 2 minutes. Mix flour with water add ice cubes to make a batter. But salt and pepper on the shrimp, cut the fish into smaller pieces, and batter them. Raise the heat to medium, add the shrimp and fish, and cook, stirring, until they turn pink/cook, 5 minutes. (If you prefer extra oil, add it along with shrimp.) Add the lime juice, salt, oregano, and cilantro, and stir well.

Annihilate this to shreds.

Toss ya scrimps like a salad.

Tomatillos y lime.

SIMMMMMER.

Cook with the fishies.

DAMN BABY, how much? Plate it nicely, add more cilantro, and throw it on a street corner. SCRIMPIN'.

Next is the ARROZ MORO. I got it from tasteofcuba.com (DIBS).

INGREDIENTS:

2 cans of black beans
3-4 cups of already cooked white rice
1/3 cup of sofrito casero (Blend onion, bell pepper, garlic and cilantro til puree)
Salt and pepper to taste
1/2 teaspoon cumin
1/2 teaspoon of oregano and a drizzle of vinegar
2 garlic clove finely chopped
1 cup of beer
1/2 can tomato sauce

In a pot, add olive oil and sautee garlic and sofrito for a minute. Add salt, pepper, cumin and oregano to sofrito and mix. Add beans and mix well. Add tomato sauce and beer or broth and mix.

After 5 minutes, add vinegar and stir. Add 2-3 cups of already cooked white rice (at room temperature) and mix well. Cook until all is absorbed (about 10-15 minutes).

Let sit for 10-15 minutes before serving.

The sofrito mix.

Pureed the sofrito with olive oil and it turned into this boogery slush.

Heated it up with the garlic and spicies.

Added a touch of class with a cup of PBR.

MMMMM....MAGICAL.

I also made some platanos. You just peel, cut in half, and fry them til they blister. Pair it with some Mexican crema and INHALE.

AIN'T NOTHIN TO A BOSS. Look at that, pure unadulterated talent on a platter.

GLORIA ESTEFAN APPROVED

So I also made a cake. I don't know why I was being so wildly ambitious the other day but I guess I became possessed by Paula Deen's alarming passion for butter because I made a coconut cake with pineapple cream cheese frosting. The original recipe was Ina Garten's coconut cake recipe (Paula's recipe was scary) but I added pineapple to the frosting and made it my own.

INGREDIENTS:

* 3/4 pound (3 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature, plus more for greasing the pans
* 2 cups sugar
* 5 extra-large eggs, at room temperature
* 1 1/2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
* 1 1/2 teaspoons pure almond extract
* 3 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting the pans
* 1 teaspoon baking powder
* 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
* 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
* 1 cup milk
* 4 ounces sweetened shredded coconut

For the frosting:

* 1 pound cream cheese, at room temperature
* 1/2 pound (2 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature
* 3/4 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
* 1/4 teaspoon pure almond extract
* 1 pound confectioners' sugar, sifted
* 6 ounces sweetened shredded coconut
* 1/2 can of crushed pineapple

DIRECTIONS:

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Grease 2 (9-inch) round cake pans, then line them parchment paper. Grease them again and dust lightly with flour.

In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with a paddle attachment, cream the butter and sugar on medium-high speed for 3 to 5 minutes, until light yellow and fluffy. Crack the eggs into a small bowl. With the mixer on medium speed, add the eggs 1 at a time, scraping down the bowl once during mixing. Add the vanilla and almond extracts and mix well. The mixture might look curdled; don't be concerned.

In a separate bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt. With the mixer on low speed, alternately add the dry ingredients and the milk to the batter in 3 parts, beginning and ending with dry ingredients. Mix until just combined. Fold in the 4 ounces of coconut with a rubber spatula.

Pour the batter evenly into the 2 pans and smooth the top with a knife. Bake in the center of the oven for 45 to 55 minutes, until the tops are browned and a cake tester comes out clean. Cool on a baking rack for 30 minutes, then turn the cakes out onto a baking rack to finish cooling.

For the frosting, in the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with a paddle attachment, combine the cream cheese, butter, vanilla and almond extract on low speed. Add the confectioners' sugar and mix until just smooth (don't whip!).

To assemble, place 1 layer on a flat serving plate, top side down, and spread with frosting. Place the second layer on top, top side up, and frost the top and sides. To decorate the cake, sprinkle the top with coconut and lightly press more coconut onto the sides. Serve at room temperature.

And there you have it, I am a LADY. What a transformation it has been...I am getting used to the childbearing and the whole being potty trained thing. I owe my domestication to this majestic woman:

Taco Bell Done Did It Again: THE $5 NBA BOX

2010-03-04T09:49:00.000-08:00

You may not believe this, but I was a frail, sickly looking child that refused any and all types of nourishment that was forced upon me by the village elders. Until one day, I discovered a little treasure called the taco supreme and my life got flipped, turned upside down. I learned to drive at the tender age of 9 because I was jacking people for their cars and tacos at local Taco Bell drive-thru's. After doubling my body weight and doing some time in juvie for an incident where I drove a pick up truck into a Taco Bell window, I decided to take up a paper route and do some freelance miming to fund my taco supreme addiction. I have been on the straight and narrow ever since and it's been 13 years since I've stolen any tacos.

That's my dad on the left, he was mad, real mad Joe Jackson.

Anyhow, my whirlwind love affair with Taco Bell is still going strong because they have a tendency to wow me every time they put out any kind of promotional item. Their most recent work of genius is the NBA $5 Buck Box, which is the result of a collaboration they did with Sir Charles Barkley and the NBA. The boxes come with either a Volcano taco/Cheesy Gordita, a regular taco, a Volcano Burrito/Burrito Supreme, cinnamon twists, and a drink for $5. If you ask me, this is the most triumphant deal in town and you would have to be some kind of underdeveloped, vegetable mole person (a vegan) to not enjoy this.

My home girl Tina and I were gonna be good, non-fat people and eat boughie tacos at Tacolicious because we decided to not be disgusting for a change. But on our way, we walked by a KFC/Taco Bell and were like, "Eh, lets be economical. We can just be healthy and order from the Fresco Menu." Next thing you know, we were both face down in a couple of NBA boxes. She got the Volcano box and I got the Cheesy Gordita box and I was pretty happy despite a few fuck-ups, which can be blamed on this particular location. 1) THEY RAN OUT OF CINNAMON TWISTS and gave us nachos instead. THE FUCK?? and 2) They ran out of RED TACO SHELLS AND they didn't put Tina's order in an actual NBA box. Which is funny/weird since we ordered at the same time and they felt compelled to give me a box and not her. Trina don't take kindly to discrimination so she put one foot on the counter and gave the staff her best, "I AIN'T NEVA LIE BITCH!" So, KFC/Taco Bell in the Marina, shame on you. But as dysfunctional as you are, I still like you so don't fart on my food.

THE BOX a.k.a. THE TRUTH. The truth being, "it rocks, it rocks".

We couldn't finish the entire thing and each had a taco left over, so being the dignified lil mama's that we are, we put our tacos in our purses and headed over to the Matrix to get our "party, party, party let's all get wasted" on. After 69 rounds of Jameson shots and a mega power barf, those tacos sure came in handy because my ass was on the prowl and was ready to kill for some food.

Only real men like bitches with tacos in their purses.

So after a night of NBA Box/Jameson pimpin', the only thing you can do the next morning is this:

IZAKAYA! (Nombe Is My Hombre)

2010-03-02T19:24:00.000-08:00

Hola muchachos, mi gato quieres leche frescas!

Sorry, my Spanish is a little bit rusty and I don't know what I was trying to say, but I used a Spanish-English translator to translate whatever I just said and the result was: "Hello boys, my cat you want fresh milk!"

Anyways, I tried out a relatively new restaurant on Mission and 21st called Nombe. Even though I just wowed you with my Spanish speaking skills, this restaurant does not serve cuisine from a Spanish speaking country. The word nombe just sounds like Spanish, but according to their website, the word refers to "someone who likes to drink heartily" in Japanese. I gladly accepted that as an open invitation to do sake snooters out of our waiter's bellybutton til I was forcefully removed (by the scruff of my neck) from the restaurant by the SFPD.

Nombe is an Izakaya style joint, which means the plates are smaller and the dishes are like Japanese tapas. When I was living in LA, one of my favorite restaurants was an Izakaya restaurant called Furaibo and my loins ache for their eggplant/beef tongue/soft shell crab/everything every damn day. I've been hurtin for an Izakaya squirtin for a while, so I was eager to ride Nombe up and down like a teeter totter, as Turf Talk would say.

I'm trying to watch my figure, so I just licked the menu in place of an aperitif. Surely, there had to be sake residue on it somewhere.

I LOVED the agedashi tofu with the shiitake sprinkles on it. It reminded me a lot of the eggplant dish I used to get at Furaibo because they were both floating in some kind of a porky stew. PORKY STEW, WHAT IT DO!!!

The brussel sprouts with mint, carrot, and togarashi. The flavor was intense and it confused me but what was not confusing was the fact that I loved it. Love is blind. It also made me wince a little because it had a little bit of a tang that I couldn't identify. I'm guessing that was the togarashi? Have no clue what that is, too lazy to Google it, but it concerns me that it has the word "rash" in it. Whatever, 5 STARS!

HITTTTTTTTERS! Honey and chili sauce wangz moved me to tears. Or I got grease in my eyes? ;p

Naturally, the polk berry (pork belly) stole the show because duh, it's fatty and gorgeous. It was atop a bed of stewed onion, some other Japanese shit, and eggs...RICH, right? That really don't confront me none though cause I took it over my knee and had my merry way with it.

BEIGNETS with orange jam and creme fraiche. Not very Japanese, I guess this place is a little fusioney but again, not a problem because what kind of an asshole discriminates against beignets?

Everything I had at Nombe was gloriously tasty and I cannot decide which dish was the best because they all blew me away in their own individual ways. I also would like to compliment them on the miniature urinal they have on the wall of the ladies room that they turned into a flower vase. It took my breath away.

I have some random items I'd like to share because I have a shit ton of photos on my phone that can't go unshared because I like to make people jealous of what's in my gut.

The infamous morning bun from Tartine. I was expecting it to be overrated but it was pretty damn good. It wasn't a revelation or anything but I certainly did not mind getting shards of morning bun lodged into my gums. That's what she said? No, no...out of context.

Superbowl Sunday was celebrated properly at Bar None on Union Street. The 10 foot mountain of tater tots was overkill though...UGGGGGH.

I drew a picture of a disturbed burrito flying into my arms. The rest of the picture sucks but the expression on that burritos face is priceless.

The chicken katsu curry from Muracci's. If you couldn't already tell, I'm trying to do the 7x7's 2010 Big Eat SF: 100 Things To Try Before You Die . Shit was good, but most katsu curries tend to taste the same to me.

A dan tat or egg custard tart from the Golden Gate Bakery on Grant in Chinatown. This is hands down one of my top 5 favorite desserts in the city. The flakey, buttery crust crumbles so sensuously and the creamy custard taste like clouds. Now I think I'm gonna have to get a box after work tomorrow.

This is a carne asada super taco from Guadalajara's aka GUADS on Mission/Onondaga. This ought to be on the list cause FUCKIN LOOK AT IT. This is from the night me and my friends went here, we only had $5 between the 3 of us and so this taco was all we could afford. We shared it and cried a little bit because we realized that we were a bunch of taco sharing squatters.

ONE MORE THING and dibs on my family for this one, but my roommate (my mom) has been concerned about all these earthquakes going on and so she decided to designate destinations for us to meet at in the event of an emergency. One of which is the Honeybaked Ham store on Divisadero and Geary in San Francisco and the other being a Chinese restaurant called Daimo, located in the Richmond Ranch 99 parking lot. Of ALL the places in the Bay Area, she chooses HONEYBAKED HAM and DAIMO.

Let's Make Babies: Raekwon the Chef

2010-02-24T11:25:00.000-08:00

Saw this photo on carltonbanks.net and I fell in love/skeeted my banana hammock.

That's wifey material right there.

I'm gonna recreate this photo with myself in it, send it to Raekwon, and sign it "Fly Shawty Penelope/Fly Colored Asian." And then maybe suggest something about going half on a baby? Perhaps naming it Melkwon? I dunno...a girl can dream.

SHUT UP BITCH AND MAKE ME A SANDWICH

2010-02-17T20:11:00.000-08:00

I really don't wanna post anymore because it says that I currently have 69 posts. That's a lucky number and it upsets me when I get achieve this number and ruin it. Like one time, I bowled a 69 in the 7th frame and just sat the rest of the game out because I was so pleased with myself, then I tried to convince everyone that I was the one that actually won. But whatever, I'll keep going because I don't want the literary world to cry and explode.

It's universally agreed upon that sandwiches are important as fuck. When I open up a beer, I say to myself, "Goddamn, you know what would go hella well with this?" and I go, "What?" and then I go, "A SANDWICH. A BUFFALO CHICKEN SANDWICH." Then I look in the mirror and say, "SHUT UP BITCH AND MAKE ME A SANDWICH." At this point, I usually go to somewhere else and tell them to make me a sandwich. But last month, I decided to switch things up and so I invited a bunch of my friends over to my house and told them to make me a sandwich. A crab sandwich.

My friend Jizzo and I had the most amazing $15 sandwich at AT&T Park during a Giants game last season from the Crazy Crab'z stand. From what I could remember, it was a simple sandwich comprised of a Dungeness crab salad grilled in between two pieces of garlic bread. We were skeet-skeetin ourselves the entire game over these sandwiches and for several months until we decided to make our own CRAB SAMMIES. Here's the list of ingredients:

CRAB SAMMIES

- 4 whole Dungeness crabs
- Mayo
- Celery
- Green Onions
- Salt
- Pepper
- Sourdough bread
- Meunster cheese
- Garlic butter spread

Shout out to Jizzo, Little Brown, Sean, Dri, and Angie for helping put these shits together. Yes, it took 6 whole adults to make a sandwich.

We spent an eternity dismembering and removing the meat from the crabs, which was traumatizing, painful, and putrid. It's no wonder imitation crab meat exists because extracting sizable amounts of meat from an actual crab is backbreaking.

Blood, sweat, tears, and .004 ounces of crab meat is what we ended up with in this bowl.

Mixed in the mayo, chopped up celery and green onions, then some salt and pepper. I don't know the exact proportions but you have eyes...figure it out.

Spread the garlic butter on the sliced pieces of sourdough and threw them on the pimp grill. We added the crab salad mixture on top and then put the Meunster cheese on top. It wasn't working on the grill so we threw them in the oven until the cheese melted.

9 hours later, we scarfed these hitters down and washed them down with 18 rounds of beer pong. Crab sammies, a deluxe bottle of Moscato, and PBR pong = a goodass time/barf on the lawn. Holler at me if you need someone to plan your next party.

After all that sandwich making, I was feeling weary and burnt out but remained on an intense sandwich hype. My co-workers informed me of a very important sandwich over at the Ferry Building so I followed my heart/massive erection to the Roli Roti truck.

Dreams are made, fire-roasted, and served on Acme bread on this truck. They are parked outside of the Ferry Building on Thursdays and Saturdays, serving up rotisserie chicken and roasted swine to desperate pricks like me.

OH.MY.GOD. Porchetta baby. I was in line, straight up eye-fucking the shit out of this piece. I guess I wasn't being too discrete about it because the gentleman manhandling the porchetta reached out and handed me a piece of skin. He is currently my best friend.

SLAM DUNK. BLAP! GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAL!! Porchetta, with a THICK, generous layer of skin, rosemary salt, caramelized onions, and I think that's arugula. There are no words in the English language that express this sandwich's glory...if I had to articulate it, I would just moan for an hour and then fart. Like, rapid fire.

Got this brick of FRIED MAC AND CHEESE from some other pork vendor at the Ferry Building. We made babies.

See, I told you sandwiches were important. Now get your triflin' ass in the kitchen and make me a fuckin sandwich!!!!!!!!!!