My body feeds 10. I need to gain more weight!

Look at this…just look at it:

This a a bacon cheeseburger, beer and onion rings from a bar called Royale in on Avenue C and 10th Street. I popped in there yesterday afternoon, prior to a mammoth evening of two concerts in a row. Since I’d be missing dinner, I wanted to have a rather big lunch. It was the third time I’ve been there. I ordered the same thing I’ve had each time.

Why?

Because it fucking rules. There’s a sign out in front of the place, declaring “Best Burger In NYC”. Whether that statement is entirely true or not, I don’t know, but I do know that it’s one of three burger places in New York (the others being Stand and Schnack) that I personally think are the best I’ve had so far.

This place definitely has the best onion rings I’ve eaten in my life. I don’t particularly like onion rings, being more of a french fry person, but these kick ass.

If you’re in Manhattan, around that area, try it. Do it, if only because I told you to.

KFC is using Black Metal to promote one of their sandwiches. Hilarious and a bit retarded at the same time. I assume this commercial had to have been aimed at the European market. The band name, “Helvetica”, is a great touch.

[Link to video]

Maple…fucking…bacon…lollipops. Made with organic bacon and Vermont maple syrup. (Whatever, Vt. syrup is no better than any other, be it Canadian or anywhere else in New England and the large bottling companies have been caught a fair number of times diluting the stuff with beet sugar, but I digress…) I’d totally try one, but I don’t think the interest is strong enough to actually go through ordering them online.

Holy Jesus Juice!

A cup made out of bacon!

I’m in love.

I usually like to think of myself as a guy who will eat anything once. If people go out of their way to make it and consume it, there has to be something going for it. Am I right or am I right?

However, I draw the line at insects. Bugs creep me out. Eating them is completely out of the question. This is why I am shocked and skeeved as fuck at the existence of Casu Marzu, a.k.a. “Rotten Cheese“, “Jumping Cheese” or “Maggot Cheese“.

The dead black sheep of the Pecorino family, the Sardinian Casu Marzu is purposely infected with the larvae of the Cheese Fly (Piophila casei) and allowed to go far past the ripening stage and into full-on decomposition. The cheese becomes goopy, seeping liquid and infested with tiny, translucent-white maggots that wriggle and squiggle and can jump up to six inches when disturbed. Mmm…maggots.

So what’s it taste like, you wonder?

“…a viscous, pungent goo that burns the tongue and can affect other parts of the body”

Enough said.

Banned from sale in Italy, but available via the black market, it’s usually consumed with bread and strong red wine (it’d have to be really fucking strong, I would assume) and is known to cause potential health problems such as allergic reactions, toxic poisoning (from letting it rot too far along) and intestinal larval infection.

Topped on french fries, it makes a lovely appetizer.

A surprisingly delicious lunchtime appetizer.

For the third year, I’ve spent Thanksgiving at a restaurant. I’m fully convinced that it’s the absolute best way to spend Holidays. No relatives, no cooking, no washing dishes—nothing. You make a reservation at some fancy-ass place, eat, pay and get the fuck out. Bloodless and without pain. You don’t have to talk with anyone you hate. You don’t have have to play at being patient and polite. You don’t have to do anything and more often than not, you eat better than everyone else. It rules. Try it.

No, not weed or the song by Black Sabbath (although both totally rule). I’m talking about the herb often called sweetleaf and more properly named stevia that I’ve recently started using it as a substitute for sugar.

I’ve been on a zero-sugar diet for the past week and will be continuing it all the way to till Monday of next week—fourteen days in all. Zero ice cream, fruit, chocolate, alcohol and grains of any kind. It’s not as bad as it sounds but not exactly fun either. Not being able to have that nightly glass of wine or bit of chocolate is especially depressing.

I’d been reading and hearing about stevia for a while now and had once tried some in powder form in some restaurant that I ordered coffee in somewhere. I found that while it was pretty sweet (about as much as artificial sweeteners), it had a weird aftertaste that was similar to saccharin. This aftertaste, I was told, was mostly due to the base powder used to bond the stevia extract and make the granules and if I didn’t like it, I could get the stuff in unadulterated liquid or syrup form.

So, last night I got to try it in liquid form via a bottle purchased from a Whole Foods. I made some coffee and put about half a dropper’s worth into my mug and found that it was definitely a lot smoother than the granulated version. It tastes somewhere in the middle of sugar and honey. I really liked the stuff, enough to pick up a bottle of the syrup form to stow in my desk at work. The syrup seems to taste even sweeter to me and I find that I need even less of it to sweeten things.

This morning, I killed a few minutes reading up on the plant. Here’s some factoids I thought were kind of neat:

• Japan currently consumes more stevia than any other country; it accounts for 40% of the sweetener market.
• An extract of stevia can be 250-300 times sweeter than sugar.
• Stevia extract contains zero calories, zero carbohydrates and a zero glycemic index.
• For centuries, the Guaraní tribes of Paraguay and Brazil used stevia, which they called ka’a he’ê (”sweet herb”), as a sweetener in yerba mate and medicinal teas for treating heartburn and other ailments.

Anyway, tree-hugging herbal-freaking hippie I am not. But, I do really like this stuff and it beats putting refined sugar or the artificial stuff in my food and drink. Not that I’ll stop eating sugar, but it’s a pretty cool alternative.

This morning, I read about a fascinating (and kind of really disgusting) dish once served in France. The Ortolan is a bird in the bunting family and is native to Europe and some parts of western Asia. It is prepared and eaten as such:

You catch the ortolan with a net spread up in the forest canopy. Take it alive. Take it home. Poke out its eyes and put it in a small cage. Force-feed it oats and millet and figs until it has swollen to four times its normal size. Drown it in brandy. Roast it whole, in an oven at high heat, for six to eight minutes. Bring it to the table. Place a cloth—a napkin will do—over your head to hide your cruelty from the sight of God. Put the whole bird into your mouth, with only the beak protruding from your lips. Bite. Put the beak on your plate and begin chewing, gently. You will taste three things: First, the sweetness of the flesh and fat. This is God. Then, the bitterness of the guts will begin to overwhelm you. This is the suffering of Jesus. Finally, as your teeth break the small, delicate bones and they begin to lacerate your gums, you will taste the salt of your own blood, mingling with the richness of the fat and the bitterness of the organs. This is the Holy Spirit, the mystery of the Trinity—three united as one. It is cruel. And beautiful. According to Claude Souvenir, chewing the ortolan takes approximately 15 minutes.

The napkin and references to the Catholic Trinity might be one interpretation. I’ve also read that the napkin’s purpose over the head is to retain the aromas released from the bird as it is chewed, so that the nose can fully appreciate them.

Since the bird is endangered, eating ortolan is illegal. Supposedly, former French president François Mitterrand was secretly served one in 1996 as part of his dying wish. I’ll pass.