As you may know, though I wouldn’t necessarily expect you to, I’m kind of obsessed with both 40-year-old New Jersey mom posing as Williamsburger of 26 fable Younger and chain restaurants generally, especially if they serve Cheddar Bay Biscuits (not to mention one of the nation’s most caloric meals) . So, the latest hate campaign by One Million Moms cuts very close to home.
This easily riled group made up of a few hundred at best wants Red Lobster to stop advertising during the show (and have claimed dubious victory over a recent lack of IHOP commercials) because of the “s-xual innuendos” and “almost impossible to describe the depth of depravity” and then go on to try and describe said depravity.
“For those who can’t pronounce the word, it’s BREE-osh, a light, slightly sweet French bread that’s made with milk, eggs and a rich yeast dough.”
The beauty of being part of a generation that slacked so hard we ceased to exist, at least to marketers, is that no one gives a rat’s ass if I eat my burger on a multigrain bun, Hawaiian bread bun, chipotle-studded bun, pretzel bun or even on brioche, however the youngsters pronounce it.
“Millennials need to have something that says who they are — uniquely them. The more unique the better — hold the raisins.”
I could also eat raisin bread and not let it define me. Or maybe even Craisins, a dried, sweetened cranberry introduced by Ocean Spray in 1993, likely to target boomer moms rather than Gen Xers hitting their peak sell-to-me years. Craisins are pronounced like cranberry minus the ranberry plus raisin.
Pumpkin spice’s ubiquity has really taken a beating this year (white girl memes, flavor science proving it’s all spice, no pumpkin) but
there’s something much fouler afoot and I spied it at Target this weekend on the instant headache aisle otherwise known as air fresheners.
Glad is promoting a limited edition fall scents collection, which includes Salted Caramel, as if salt contributes an odor to caramel, which is really just sweet and Cracker Jacky with a chemical undertone. No matter, it’s available in five different formats: jar candle, Plugins scented oil, automatic spray, which differs from premium room spray, and scented oil candles.
The rest of the collection is rounded out by Fall Hayride, a mystery blend, Pumpkin Spice (obviously) and two other foodish scents, Orchard
Apple Cinnamon and Toasted Marshmallow, the latter which is described by an online reviewer as “Makes breathing fun!” Five stars for Toasted Marshmallow. Clearly, I know nothing about how a home should smell (or breathing).
What are the odds that Glade captures the aroma of a croissant-doughnut chimera for 2014?
I am breaking my blog silence (I really meant to be back sooner, but got sidetracked–I’ve also been trying to move my blog from Typepad to WordPress since December but hit my technical know-how limits when php became involved) to speak out on the very important topic of Chobani foulness. I got drunk (well, tipsy) off of bubbly fermented Chobani back in 2011, but no one believed me (or more likely, they didn’t care). Now, I feel vindicated by the yogurt recall.
All good things must come to an end, and after six
year my office will be moving far away from Yip's, my favorite greasy-good by-the-pound
lunch buffet. It was nice knowing you, $4.16 worth of salt-and-pepper squid, shriveled
green beans, hunks of fatty pork belly and soggy zucchini in black bean sauce with
all the chicken picked out by 1:30pm.
I'm off to the land of the bi-level Dallas BBQ and
the new Buca di Beppo. The fact that there's one in the Excaliber casino tells me all I need to know about the Italian chain.
Wild may be the new Eat, Pray, Love, though I'm guessing with less of the eating? I was surprised to see the Bridge of the Gods mentioned on one of the first pages; it was the author's ending point on her 1,000 mile hike along the Pacific Crest Trail. Do you know what else sits right next to the Bridge of the Gods? Char Burger, the world's best wild west-themed eatery with a cartoon Native American mascot and a view of the Columbia River! I waited 309 pages for the author to reach her final destination–and she celebrates with an ice cream from East Wind Drive-in. WTF? I've never even heard of it. I don't think I can be inspired by an inspirational memoir that doesn't involve Char Burger.
Compared to many food bloggers, I suspect that I have an unusual level of fascination/tolerance for mainstream food innovations and marketing ploys (I cover consumer packaged goods digital marketing in my day job).
That’s the main reason why I accepted an invitation to a pop-up restaurant affiliated with George Duran and the Supermarket Guru, Phil Lempert, even though I suspected it might be gimmicky. I mean, a Food Network personality and a product spokesperson who appears on Good Morning America and The View? I kind of knew what I was getting into.
Well, sort of, at least. It turned out to be a focus group that ended with a gotcha moment when it was revealed that the main dish served was really Marie Callender’s Three Meat and Four Cheese Lasagna and we were being filmed the whole time. Apparently, this has upset a lot of bloggers (something I only discovered after receiving a damage control email from the PR agency a few hours ago) particularly mom bloggers, likely the brand’s target audience. Not to denigrate anyone’s experience, but perhaps I had different expectations.
I wasn’t going to even mention this event, but here I am waiting to see if Irene is all that it’s cracked up to be, watching the Doctor Who premiere, drinking a use-every-thing-in-the-liquor-cabinet Charleston and an ad for the Marie Callender’s lasagna comes on—and it stars Gale from Breaking Bad (formerly of Damages, The Wire and Flight of the Conchords)!
There he is happily enjoying his frozen entrée with his pretty, age appropriate wife and…is that a well-adjusted daughter or friend? When I see a recently deceased meth-cooker with a penchant for Thai karaoke renditions of German one-hit-wonders surrounded by such a loving family, smiling (or is that a smirk?) to himself, really savoring his slab of bubbly cheese-topped pasta, I can’t be mad.
The nicer the hotel, the less likely it will be that they provide an in-room coffee maker and I like my crappy, watery cup before heading out into the world for a real coffee and am too cheap to order room service. But going down to Holiday Express level just causes heartache because there’s no way in hell I’m going to wake up between 6am and 9m to take advantage of free scrambled eggs, bacon and rolls. That is not a perk.
I lost all concentration on the results of this study, though, when I saw “Bar lounges and lobbies are expanding their menus and offering more tapas-style foods to promote the lobby as a casual, social-gathering place.”
Tapas-style foods?! What does that even mean? I’m heading to San Francisco tomorrow and if I don’t see any goat cheese-stuffed meatballs in the lobby of Parc 55, my Priceline blind bid result, there is going to be hell to pay. (No in-room coffee maker, so it must be classy). Oh, the in-house restaurant, which may or may not be anywhere near the lobby appears to serve “bar bites” including potstickers, sliders and empanadas. American tapas, if I’ve ever seen them. Thankfully, they didn’t use the T word.
Palate/palette abuse is a fact of life—caring only causes pain—instead, tapas patrolling might be where it’s at.