Hot Dish Review

Hooray! For my official 100th blog post I thought it would be appropriate to clarify my stance on reviewing food and restaurants.

Hmmm….well. If you are a restaurant critic every restaurant manager worth a damn knows who you are and what you look like. Trying to maintain anonymity is simply silly and somewhat narcissistic. Are you really that important? Is writing about food really that serious? No.

In fact, the publication I write for on a regular basis prints write-ups, not reviews. There is a difference. The restaurants that I visit know I’m coming and that I’m doing a story. Generally, the food and often the drinks, are comp’d. Does that affect the service? Probably. And not always in my favor I might add. Maybe I make some servers nervous. To meet the chefs and be recognized by managers and bartenders all over town is not a bad thing. Being treated like a VIP is, in fact, awesome!

Are music critics held to the same standards? Or people that write book reviews? No, it’s just ridiculous.

What I write here is what I really think. Sometimes it’s not so nice. I blog on the same comp’d meals that I write articles on for AFD. I do the unthinkable and write after just one visit. Yes, that’s right. Often, an article is based on one enormous meal.

So what?

(I felt it necessary to use a photo of my child to maintain anonymity….I knew you would understand.)

It’s time to catch up with The Bunny….pussies gotta eat too! Here’s what fills her bowls these days.

Although she just had two extractions, she loves her Prescription Diet dry kibble (t/d, ironically for dental health). Of course, she also gets a little treat in the morning and another at night….just 1/3 can of Fancy Feast. Like fast food for cats, its nutritional merits are probably pretty low. Ingredients include wholesome poultry broth, chicken, and liver but then quickly go downhill with scary stuff like meat by-products and wheat gluten.

Made by Nestle Purina Petcare, the can claims “Animal feeding tests using AAFCO procedures substantiate that Fancy Feast provides complete and balanced nutrition for the growth and maintenance of cats.” Well, there you go.

Am I a bad mother? Truth is, I feel like she eats such a small quantity of Fancy Feast that it isn’t detrimental to her health. But that’s like saying it’s OK to smoke crack, as long as it’s just a puff or two.

I think we’ll switch to organic, minimally processed canned food treats or meat baby food (Seriously, I saw an old lady at Publix buying it for her cats. The only ingredient in the beef is beef….can’t get simpler than that!)

Although I’ve been accused of having the morals of an alleycat (how charmingly retro!), The Bunny is a sweet thing and deserves the very best!

The drive from Crystal River, Florida to Atlanta is about seven hours. I know this because my parents bought their “winter place” there last year, which was my first Thanksgiving wearing shorts. I thought that would be weird, but hell, it’s always awesome to be able to wear shorts and sandals….LOVE IT!

A lot of thoughts randomly occured while driving home last night, monotonously coming upon small Georgia towns, and trashy truck stops….”who the hell lives in Smarr?”, “should I follow the guy going 120 mph, he must have a radar detector”, “can you imagine the strippers at the truck stop strip joint?” Or the endless memories brought on by the music I play, both teen stuff and more recent goodies like the visual from “Dirty White Boy”….Mmmmm, can’t wait to see mine!

In case you don’t know (and why should you?), Crystal River and nearby Homosassa are home to the manatees. We visited the state park where I saw some of these prehistoric critters. The photo shows one eating kale.

Me and my Mom made our traditional turkey, cornbread dressing, green beans, sweet potatoes, and cranberry sauce, apple crumble, all healthier versions than most folks. I find that I can stuff myself without feeling nearly as nauseous when the fat and sugar content is reduced….hooray!

Last year, on the drive home, I treated myself to my annual (OK maybe it’s more like quarterly) Krystal cheeseburgers. It was a miserable torrential downpour almost the entire drive, through the interstate construction and in the dark, with an ornery cat crawling over me and under my feet. Me and the Bunny ate our Krystals in my car in the parking lot, both of us scarfing them down with the rain all around us.

So, I’ve decided this will be our tradition. No rain this year. We went through the drive through ordering four cheese Krystals, one with bacon. A few months ago I got one with crispy onions. Both extras sound delicious but anything, and I mean anything, other than the standard ingredients of beef(?), cheese, onions, mustard, and greasy steamed bun really fuck up the whole thing.

Surprised that a food writer loves Krystals? I have a long history with the burger of white trash legend. I grew up where they originated, in Chattanooga, so I grew up eating them. I hated ground meat as a child so Krystals were ideal….the meat was almost invisible!

Then there was the time my highschool lover and I were forced to say goodbye. His parents were moving to Florida or Pennsylvania or something and we were drunk, crying, making out. The beer made me hungry (it was “more than a feeling”), so we got Krystals to go. Not a pretty sight, me crying, drunk, and eating Krystals sitting on the curb in the culdesac in his parents’ neighborhood.

The Krystal on North Druid Hills was me and my college roommate’s regular 4am alcohol absorption stop after many long nights out at the Metroplex.

Fast forward to tonight, me and my fluffy child chowed down. She acts like a starving street pussy when she smells Krystals, but only ate a couple of pieces of meat(?) before she commenced to barfing in the back seat. Lovely. She already took a dump in her litterbox. That’s what I get for letting her roam freely in the vehicle.

I enjoyed them, however, and hit the road again to the tune of Chris Isaak’s “King of the Highway”. If I had a little girl, I think I’d have to name her Crystal….or Krystal.

 
My days always start with a healthy breakfast.  Egg whites, turkey sausage, maybe wheat toast if I’m doing grains/carbs, and always a cup of berries.  My cat, The Bunny, has recently developed a rather intrusive habit of laying on the table while I am eating breakfast.  In fact, while I am scrambling my eggs she is positioning herself directly on top of my notebook of lists for the day….food lists, chores, goals.  Without it I am lost.  I swear I’d forget to shower if it wasn’t on my list, but that’s a story for another day.

Today I woke up (a good start already), sliced my strawberries, washed some blueberries and put them in their little white bowl on the table.  As I whisked my eggs some commotion was taking place on the table….The Bunny attempting to bury the berries.  I can’t figure out why exactly, as if it’s not bad enough that she has to lay her hairy body on the table, she must also sniff my food and coffee and try to cover them up like piles of shit. 

By the time I sit down with my eggs and sausage, she is happily asleep on my notebook.  I reach for the berries and….huh?  There are only a few pieces in the bowl.  Momentarily perplexed, I’m rather certain The Bunny did not eat them.  I find them, however, strewn about the table.  Under her tail.  Covered with hair.  Best part?  I picked the hairs off and ate the berries anyway!