Animal activists, avert your eyes. Above is a slab of that most delicious of French staples, foie gras. I came across this photo late last night while I was both hungry and nostalgic for a meal I had eaten earlier this year in a little French bistro named Chez Michel. Unfortunately, I learned the hard way that browsing shiny, delectable images on an empty stomach is nothing short of a horrific idea. Yes, ever since my flickr adventures, I’ve been relentlessly craving foie gras, but in the absence of any readily accessible goose liver, I’ve simply had to sate myself by staring at this photo, which is really quite counter-intuitive, if you think about it. Nevertheless, I fear that I may have glanced upon the culinary version of The Ring, except instead of being haunted by images of a little girl, I see foie gras. And instead of an ominous phone call, my stomach rumbles. And instead of dying, I just get hungrier. Okay, it’s nothing like The Ring at all. Point is that if you love foie gras like I do, once you look at this picture, you won’t be able to think of anything else.
Many thanks to the blog Desserts First, whose author snapped this tempting photo. If you’re hungry but the foie-gras isn’t doing much for you, I promise this site will have plenty for you to wag your tongue at.
Join Our Club! Oh, wait. DON'T.
I just received an email that was quite curious, and not because it called me by the Asian-esque name, “BEN BEN.” The cyber missive came from an organization called HollywoodMixer.com, and seeing that the title comprised two of my favorite things, I was immediately intrigued. After the header (From: admin@hollywoodmixer.com, To: BEN BEN), the first paragraph offered these brief but compelling details about the club:
Grammar 1, Idiots 0
To those unfamiliar with the latest offerings on Los Angeles’s Lazy Susan of fads, one particular sensation that has swept the city by storm has been the Frozen Yogurt craze, helpfully nurtured by Pinkberry and its many imitators. Basically, people have rediscovered FroYo, but this time around, they’ve taken out the flavoring, added fresh toppings, and convinced themselves that they’re now eating health food. I’m not necessarily opposed to the whole movement, but I can’t abide by any frozen yogurt shop (or frozen dairy shop in general) that doesn’t offer a chocolate option for those of us less health inclined (Pinkberry, it should be noted, has a scant selection consisting of only Plain and Green Tea. Oh, and their signature flavor: AWFUL).
Well, over the past year, dozens of Pinkberry knockoffs have sprouted up across the city, and now, it seems the bubble is at last bursting. One of the first casualties is none other than the miserable establishment, Yogurtpia, which happens to be one of the places I’ve actually been to. According to Eater LA, the storefront is covered with ominous, brown paper, hopefully signaling the end to this embarrassment of an enterprise. Yes, it’s a joyous time for me, as Yogurtpia’s unceremonious death fills me with great satisfaction. But why? Why am I so thrilled that a generic yogurt shop has disappeared into the night, never to be heard from again?
ROW ALERT: Countess of Wessex Out-Hats Royal Family
Breaking news from the Royal Family. New mother Sophie Rhys-Jones, a.k.a. the Countess of Wessex (or C.O.W.), has proven that while her title is un-throneworthy, she’s certainly the queen (get it?) of hats. I know this must seem like a scone-shattering proclamation to all you Camilla Parker Bowles fans, but before you get your clotted cream all up in a bundle, take a look at the compelling evidence after the jump…
Continue reading “ROW ALERT: Countess of Wessex Out-Hats Royal Family”
Further Evidence That Los Angeles Is Run By Idiots
Carpoolers’ free ride may be over [Los Angeles Times via Franklin Avenue]
I Will Eat This
Ever since the days of The Amazing Race 4 when the then-married couple of Chip and Reichen had to down a plate full of writhing octopus tentacles  a local Korean delicacy, no less  I’ve thought to myself “I bet I could do that.”  Yes, chalk it up to couch-emboldened bravery or a disillusioned sense of gastro-intestinal fortitude, but I’ve sincerely believed that when faced with the task of eating raw, undulating octopus that I would succeed with flying colors.  The reasoning has always been that for the Korean people, this dish is considered a delicacy, and while it seems gross and unsavory to most of us Americans, there’s got to be something going for it if millions of people think it’s, as some say, delish. ÂÂ
Kwanzaa Time? YUUUM!
“Happy Kwanzaa, black people. From me and my breasts!”
I happened to be perusing the program listings on my Tivo today, and not only did I discover that Sandra Lee was going to attempt a shiksa-tastic Star of David Cake in honor of my people, but she was also going to hone her inner Angelou and whip up a Kwanzaa Celebration Cake. Needless to say, I will be watching this sure-to-be holiday disaster with glee (but I shan’t be reporting on it, sorry).
Whopper There It Is!
The Absinthe Minded Professor
I’ve never had absinthe — mostly because I’m afraid of what it might do to me (uncontrolled giddiness, unpleasant hallucinations, sustained nausea) — but I know there are those out there who live and die by the stuff. Or at least, they say they do to sound hardcore. Nevertheless, the infamous beverage is now apparently legal (since the beginning of the month) and coming to a liquor store near you, and thanks to the good people at LAist, we have a slurry, downward-spiral comparison of some of the major brands. I’ll toast to that (rimshot!).
RESTAURANT REVIEW: Vito's Pizza
For those of you who don’t live in Los Angeles, there’s something you should know about our currently frosty (63 degrees!!) city:  we have very bad pizza.  Let me restate that:  we have very bad normal pizza.  The dainty, gourmet stuff is fine.  You know what I’m talking about:  the fancy stuff with the proscuitto and goat cheese and other assorted ingredients.  That’s all good.  But sometimes you just want a basic mozzarella and tomato sauce pie (ie. a margherita, for the highbrow set).  You’d think it would be an easy enough thing to execute, but you’d be surprised at how many well-meaning pizza parlors fall short.