tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67761043959434125792025-11-22T14:54:06.873-05:00I eat a lot?Nicholashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926717828829279434noreply@blogger.comBlogger437125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776104395943412579.post-61274602032268010962016-02-27T19:11:00.002-05:002016-02-27T19:11:29.095-05:00

This is it, my triumphant return to blogging. Like herpes, you think I'm gone, but then I come back in the form of a mega cold sore and embarrass you on your wedding day. But we're not here to talk about herpes (at least, not now) we're here to talk about soup dumplings. I recently hopped on a jetplane and returned to the motherland of Taiwan. Over the course of the slightly-less-than-two-hour

Nicholashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926717828829279434noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776104395943412579.post-66069324675401336102014-02-26T22:24:00.000-05:002014-02-27T21:55:38.008-05:00

It's me again. Still alive, back with another post on the 'glorious number one blog in Best Korea.' Actually, I don't know if that's true. It probably isn't. Anyway, if you're curious what took so long between posts and guessed laziness, well you can shove it - you're wrong. I've actually been re-inventing the wheel and rewriting my own blogging app. Why? I'm not 100% sure anymore, part of it

Nicholashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926717828829279434noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776104395943412579.post-408431114021505882014-01-23T00:11:00.003-05:002014-01-23T21:18:00.540-05:00

Bet you thought I was dead huh? No, truth is, I'm just a shitty blogger whose writing can't keep up with his stomach. After 5 years of writing - okay, that's cheating, I really only wrote for half of last year - it kind of gets tedious and repetitive. What started out as a cheap ploy to get people to pay for my food and invite me to press events turned into a chore. Don't get me wrong, 2013 was

Nicholashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926717828829279434noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776104395943412579.post-61757416879471355272013-08-15T00:41:00.000-04:002013-08-15T00:42:18.084-04:00

If you've never used your tongue to gently undress a thin layer of crushed Nilla Wafers from the tip of one of Bea Arthur's milky cones... then you, my friend, have never truly lived. There are some dishes and places that every food blogger raves about. When you talk about fried chicken, it's pretty hard not to mention Bob White's and Pies and Thighs, when you talk about soup dumplings, Nan

Nicholashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926717828829279434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776104395943412579.post-36379683554557979442013-07-15T22:22:00.000-04:002013-07-15T22:28:09.713-04:00

While the ramen fad peaked in 2011 (or was it 2010?) and the world has moved onto things like cronuts, I haven't moved on yet. I don't like change. I like constancy. Or maybe I share some similarities to the Pokemon Slowpoke. Today, in the middle of this assclown ridiculously hot and humid summer, I'm going to tell you a secret that's utterly useless to you now. A secret I held near and

Nicholashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926717828829279434noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776104395943412579.post-77595437754351289372013-06-19T21:42:00.002-04:002013-06-19T21:54:33.980-04:00

Working in tech has certainly been interesting these past few weeks. With the recent news breaking about the NSA and their secret 'PRISM' initiative, it's impossible to get through a single day without reading about how our privacy is being invaded, our civil liberties disappearing one-by-one, blah blah blah. Yes. That shit is serious business, but today - I want to draw attention to

Nicholashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926717828829279434noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776104395943412579.post-60407623537084945372013-06-05T22:34:00.002-04:002013-06-07T23:53:03.826-04:00

Over the past eight years (minus that one forgetful year I spent in Philly), I've probably been to K-Town at least a few hundred times, eaten more than my fair share of garlic chicken platters from Woorijip when drunk, and downed countless bowls of Jajangmyeon. Korean food is my jam, or my sexual awakening... take your pick. That said, while I'm more than happy to shove my hole silly with

Nicholashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926717828829279434noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776104395943412579.post-73637580097860496002013-05-18T15:44:00.000-04:002013-05-18T15:44:01.580-04:00

If you've read my blog consistently - which admittedly is probably pretty difficult lately given my ass-clown posting frequency - you probably realize I have no real love lost for Philadelphia. Most of my memories about the city are pretty shitty. Philly drivers are entirely assholes towards cyclists, and while the riding is absolutely sick - I had more than a few close encounters with cars,

Nicholashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926717828829279434noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776104395943412579.post-88185793058997403392013-04-16T22:03:00.003-04:002013-04-16T22:08:51.770-04:00

Last April, I had a chance to visit DC on a business trip (how's that for backlogged!) and instead of focusing on what I was supposed to actually accomplish for work, my mind drifted instead to what I wanted to eat. The only thing that actually came to mind was Ben's Chili Bowl, a joint made famous by President Obama for something called the "half smoke." While I never really expect any hot

Nicholashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926717828829279434noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776104395943412579.post-74747590163561946642013-04-07T01:45:00.001-04:002013-04-07T01:52:31.062-04:00

Aside from bullets, they are my only weakness. Actually that's not true, I also have a debilitating fear of cockroaches, swimming, and public speaking... but Girl Scout cookies are definitely up there when it comes to things that scare the living shit out of me. I know, you're probably thinking - "you asshat! How can you be scared of delicious delicious baked goods sold by smiling little

Nicholashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926717828829279434noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776104395943412579.post-44626459875838738742013-03-13T22:44:00.003-04:002013-03-13T22:54:46.499-04:00

Note to self (and all): do not get the desiccated soup dumplings here I think something that's come with me having a job, and by association not being a broke-as-shit graduate student, is that my perception of value has become skewed. When I first started writing 'My Inner Fatty,' I think there were few things that made it ever slightly more palatable than every other food blog on the

Nicholashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926717828829279434noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776104395943412579.post-35827109085066727482013-02-20T22:47:00.000-05:002013-02-20T22:50:40.897-05:00

If you know me personally, this post should confound and arouse you. Part of it is... I hate going to Brooklyn. Hate it, hate it, hate it. First of all, the streets aren't numbered for a non-geographically inclined ass-hat like myself. I like knowing where I am and how far I am from my destination at all times. Call me neurotic, but I just feel lost in hipsterville when I'm in Brooklyn...

Nicholashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926717828829279434noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776104395943412579.post-42498280586557151212013-02-05T21:43:00.000-05:002013-02-05T21:44:54.823-05:00

Yeah see? They're the good guys. They are with us against inflation! What exactly defines a 'good' egg tart? If you ask my idiot Korean former roommate, he'd tell you that "it should taste like eggs." Thanks a lot, dumbass. But indeed, what's the correct criteria for judging these gelatinous yellow blobs of arterial blockage? Is it a buttery and flaky crust that makes an insane number of

Nicholashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926717828829279434noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776104395943412579.post-4518587096858989232013-01-21T19:19:00.001-05:002013-01-21T19:20:25.917-05:00

As I sat down to right this post, I had one of those "who the hell am I?" moments. I realized I haven't had a legit burger in weeks, and I haven't written about one since I had that oh-so-sensual encounter with In-N-Out months ago. As someone who used to live, sleep, and breathe burgers - this just feels weird. Anyway, I was watching the Oprah interview of Lance Armstrong today (because

Nicholashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926717828829279434noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776104395943412579.post-76489804293562304322013-01-13T21:51:00.000-05:002013-01-13T22:00:26.131-05:00

This photo is unrelated to anything. I wish there really were a giant sized ice cream sandwich though... Since I took ass-clown forever to write this post, I'm about two weeks too late to jump on the 'Best of' hash tag bandwagon. So just consider this a preview of posts yet to come... since I'm as backed up on posts as a geriatric who's lost their Metamucil. Anyway, as most of you are

Nicholashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926717828829279434noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776104395943412579.post-83659605225585540802013-01-06T22:47:00.000-05:002013-01-06T22:47:19.390-05:00

There's that saying, that you should never judge a book by it's cover. Like Twilight... which has a stupid-ass cover, but holds the depths of literary achievement like the world has never seen or experienced before. Kidding... or am I? Anyway, I generally feel like if an Asian restaurant is being frequented by a plurality of non-Asian folk, I should probably mosey the fuck on outta there.

Nicholashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926717828829279434noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776104395943412579.post-41685504599861521952012-12-26T10:34:00.000-05:002012-12-26T10:35:37.992-05:00

Remember how a few months ago I told you to go to Shanghai Mong to get black bean noodles? That they were the bees knees of black starchy concoctions... that they made me cream myself just at the thought of sauce drenched noodles (maybe this is why Google AdSense thinks I'm writing an 'Adult' blog)? Well I'm sorry. I was wrong. While their version is undoubtedly solid (and delicious if

Nicholashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926717828829279434noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776104395943412579.post-11787411155612723552012-12-22T16:28:00.000-05:002012-12-22T16:29:30.549-05:00

Driven to the brink of insanity and frostbite at home (my dad is very Asian in case you didn't know), I'm making my triumphant return to food blogging - if only to reap the heat being emanated from my laptop's keyboard - to tell you about a glorious bowl of rice and beef, whose flavor can only hope to be contained by an enormous ceramic bowl that is so hot that you'll inevitably burn yourself.

Nicholashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926717828829279434noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776104395943412579.post-66315642515224837602012-10-01T23:26:00.002-04:002012-10-01T23:27:06.507-04:00

Oh shit, it is October already. It has been forevertown since I last posted, but fret not sweater-monkeys, this second-rate food poet has returned. Today, I will tell you a tale about a friend of mine. Some people are addicted to alcohol, some people are addicted to drugs, some people are addicted to sniffing markers back in grade school when they had cherry scented white erase ones (oh lord

Nicholashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926717828829279434noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776104395943412579.post-65551802383396037042012-08-17T22:47:00.000-04:002012-08-17T22:49:36.231-04:00

Oh my goodness. Oh my dayum, dayumm, dayummm. This is a man that feels passionately about food... and ghetto grocery bags, evidently. This is a man that loves Five Guys' so much that he would take one of their burgers to the parking lot behind a middle school and get it pregnant. This is a man that whose unhealthily arousal for Five Guys' cheeseburgers can only be rivaled by the amount of

Nicholashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926717828829279434noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776104395943412579.post-3045927116596507902012-07-28T00:00:00.000-04:002012-08-17T22:48:59.583-04:00

I'm convinced that if you combine something as awesome as flourless chocolate cake and something as sensual as fried chicken together, it'd probably taste erotic as fuck. You're probably saying to yourself "damn son, that shit sounds biz-nasty. Why do I still listen to this idiot? Also why are you telling everyone about your demented taste buds?" To answer your first question... I'm not

Nicholashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926717828829279434noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776104395943412579.post-45648692526077386602012-07-10T21:18:00.001-04:002012-07-10T21:28:38.698-04:00

Good news everyone! I am not dead, I'm just insanely busy learning all about Java and Python style guides, App Engine, JS optimization, and a bunch of other topics that aren't very useful to anyone else. Anyway, I've heard the term "technical debt" thrown around endlessly lately, and that's basically how I feel about this blog. I took a few undeserved posting breaks to stuff my face with now

Nicholashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926717828829279434noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776104395943412579.post-88437193421436817502012-05-31T10:57:00.000-04:002012-07-10T19:47:43.821-04:00

So I haven't been writing very much lately. Sorry to disappoint the few of you who actually read this shiz, but I most likely won't be quitting my job just so I can accelerate heart disease and live penniless as a food blogger. Plus, I kinda like the whole 'free food' thing at work. Anyway, I know what most of you are thinking: "I don't need to hear your BS excuses, dance monkey! Dance!"

Nicholashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926717828829279434noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776104395943412579.post-41860910763377038172012-04-20T01:29:00.002-04:002012-07-10T19:46:51.832-04:00

Somewhere along the line, someone not very bright decided that the default American cold-remedy slash comfort-food would be chicken noodle soup. Growing up, I never understood what the appeal was. It's bland brackish boiled water that has miserable chunks of chicken 'breast' and an insignificant number of noodle strands floating around in it. Also crunchy, out-of-place, carrots. Fuck those

Nicholashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926717828829279434noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6776104395943412579.post-2913115848645626582012-03-31T18:07:00.001-04:002012-09-22T10:12:04.100-04:00

You know that commercial where they ask random people "what would you do for a Klondike bar?" My answer: pretty much anything just short of pummeling a third grader. Food envy. Some people have it worse than other people. I guess it's like alcoholism, but... without the social stigma and having to go to AA bit. What exactly do I mean? I'll explain. Let's say I go to Per Se. I spend a

Nicholashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16926717828829279434noreply@blogger.com3