We are nothing if not an easily distracted people. Witness...waves hands...everything. Now comes news from two different sources of wild foodstuffs designed - obviously - to take our minds off of the monstrous fuckery loosed upon the world.
First, the folks that used to be wisely guided by Dave Thomas' avuncular approach have gone off the rails. Wendy's recently released the Takis Fuego Chicken sandwich. For the initiated, Takis are a rolled tortilla snack designed to resemble mini taquitos. They come in a number of flavors, but Fuego is the most popular - who can resist a well-balanced hot chili pepper and lime flavor profile? Full disclosure, I think they're pretty tasty.
Lindsay Radkoski, Wendy's U.S. Chief Marketing Officer tells us, "At Wendy's, we know how to keep things spicy, and we love serving up fresh, famous collaborations that tap into consumers passion points, which made this partnership with Takis a no brainer. By joining forces with such an iconic and beloved snacking brand, we're turning up the heat and flavor in a way only Wendy's can!"
Heat and flavor, noted Wendy's attributes, natch. To be honest, I'd try it.
Which is not something I can say about our other featured food item.
Heinz (the ketchup people - that Heinz) and Smoothie King have teamed up to release the Heinz Tomato Ketchup Smoothie. I just threw up in my mouth. According to the linked article from delish, "The deep red drink blends açai sorbet, fresh apple juice, ripe strawberries, tart raspberries, and a not-so-subtle dash of Heinz ketchup."
Threw up again.
That sounds so disgusting that I wouldn't even ask Marls to try it, and Marls never backs down from a gustatory challenge.
We'll keep our eyes open for other delicious mashups/assaults on society, so please be sure to check back at regular intervals. Which is not something you'll have if you drink that Heinz monstrosity.
Been a minute since we posted about ground-breaking food innovation/disgusting culinary adventurism. That one tipped the scale of intrigued to explosive vomit well towards the latter. This week, though, as I wandered into my local Giant in search of coffee grounds near closing time (because you wouldn't like me in the morning without caffeine), I saw a sign advertising this:
I love Banh Mi sandwiches. Even crappy Banh Mi tastes good. The best of it will transport a soul to French Vietnam, minus all the inconvenient colonialism and such. I had a sublime version from a food truck in the District back in the day, and it's hard to beat the stuff you can get in and around Eden Center in Falls Church. (Note to self: been a minute since we went to Eden Center - maybe should work on that.)
I also love sushi, barbecue, and Jack Daniels (hard to tell by the picture, but the roll includes Jack Daniels' pulled pork). I really don't see how this can miss.
Usually, we'd assign this to The Marls, our Director of Culinary Extremism. But I don't have anything better to do, and I'm willing to take one for the benefit of the Family Gheorghe.
You've been waiting years for this one and now seems like the time to let it rip.
A recent G:TB comments discussion involving the classic Jhoon Rhee Tae Kwon Do commercial (featuring FoG:TB Chun Rhee delivering the now famous "Nobody bothers me either!" line) prompted Zman and me to go down a rabbit hole of local ads from our childhood in the NY/NJ metro area.
zcommentary is in blue. I had a blast exchanging these vintage ads with Marls. We dug up some serious gems. It started as a 10 Best list so of course it now has something like 12 entries.
The Nevele:
This was a great pull by Marls. I recognized the song the minute the beat dropped, and it's a pretty bangin' disco beat.
Mount Airy Lodge: Have a fling in the spring in the Poconos!
The Nevele reminded me of another resort commercial, beautifuuuuuul Mount Airy Loooodge. Although the Nevele had the harder beat, the Mount Airy Lodge ad makes it clear that it's the place for lovers to make their lovin'.
Children's Aid Society:
Hands down my favorite pull of the text exchange, Marls always adds value. I recognized every second of this ad, including the girl who starts singing poignantly at the 0:30 mark, because I used to get psyched when it came on. It made me wish I got some children's aid and it still swings. No idea why no one combed their hair before filming though.
Coronet Baby Furniture: This one features the tag line "no talking orangutans" which Z mentioned in the aforementioned Jhoon Rhee discussion. TR and I may have been the only ones to pick up the reference, but nevertheless, these commercials are classics. Low production values, porn staches, and cheesy outfits all scream Long Island in the mid-80's. Um, when was the last time you went to the Island? There are plenty of guys out there with the same staches and Mets Starter jackets they were rocking when this ad first aired.
Grand Hotel (aka TWICE MORE!!!):
Another gem. Every class evaluation I wrote at W&M included "I loved it, I'm going to take this class two more times as soon as I get tickets, my husband works in the area." I guarantee no one got the joke and I still don't care. I bet this lady knew Doris from Rego Park (but probably not Sapphire, the hidden jewel of the Bronx).
Tommy Tunes:
Undoubtedly my best pull. Tommy Tunes was the place to go in Bergen County if you were looking to pimp your ride in the 1980s/90s. The woman in this ad is the epitome of North Jerzy beauty circa 1989. Marls was so taken with this commercial that he found himself deep in an internet wormhole researching the guy who owned the store.
Sasson Jeans (Featuring the NY Rangers):
Tight designer jeans, late 70's hockey hair, a disco soundtrack, synchronized skating, off key singing and awkward hand gestures made this ad an instant favorite. In fact, the slogan "Ooh La La" became a nickname for Ron Duguay - the ranger with the longest hair in the ad. In his second season with the Rangers, Duguay parlayed his new sex symbol status into relationships with Bianca Jagger, Cheryl Tiegs, & Kim Alexis.
I remember this one too. Bamberger's! Marls will always take an opportunity to dump on the Strangers to the Cup.
The Money Store:
We couldn't do this post without at least one spot featuring Phil Rizzuto for the Money Store. And how about these interest rates?
Crazy Eddie:
We couldn't do this without Crazy Eddie either.
And nobody beats The Wiz! This was a great place to buy stuff that fell off the back of a truck, or that was stolen off the back of a truck, or that was old and used but presented to the buyer as a "floor sample." I bought one such deeply discounted "floor sample" at The Wiz in Paramus, a Yamaha pre-amp for the Unit M stereo (why the hell did we have a Carver amp with no pre-amp?) that survived for maybe two months before self-destructing. More importantly, their jingle inspired Biz Markie.
Newmark & Lewis:
Seaman's Furniture gets the nod because (1) "See Seaman's first!" was ubiquitous even if no one particular ad is memorable, and (2) it provides context for Phife's line "Bust off on your couch now you got Seaman's Furniture." Perhaps they're affiliated with Dr. Seaman from a previous post.
We interrupt this solemn celebration of the passing of a legend to bring you this content, which is much more in keeping with our oeuvre. This post doubles as both a public service announcement and an assignment for our Director of Culinary Extremism (that's Marls, if you haven't checked the org chart recently).
The mad scientists at PepsiCo forgot to lock the door, and some ungodly rough beast slouched out, headed for Bethlehem and a whole lot of other places in Pennsylvania and elsewhere. Forget the Wuhan investigation - the Department of Justice needs to get to the bottom of this shit.
I love spicy food. Most of my meals have some form of hot peppers, Tabasco, zhug, chili paste, or other flavor-appropriate heater. And I subsisted on Mountain Dew for a large portion of my twenties, though it's probably been two decades since I tasted that sickly-sweet nectar. But together? The chills that just shot through my spine weren't the good kind.
Fortunately, I don't have to try it. That's why we have Marls. You'll recall his work in the seminal "I Have Seen the Future and It Is Not the Double Down", wherein he took one for science and ate KFC's Frankensammich. At Penn Station, no less.
When faced with a menace like this, we send our best. Good luck, Marls. We're all counting on you.
I made a lot of decisions in college, the vast majority of which were bad. A handful were good, including my steadfast determination to rush Marls. Even back then he wasn't much to look at, he was generically northern and physically blocky. He didn't jump out at you like some other rushees did, but that was fine with me. I was always concerned with what was going on under the surface.
Parenthetically, I remember a discussion early on in my sophomore year where a rush candidate's name came up and one of his strongest attributes raised by his sponsor was "He's the fastest guy on the rugby team." This, of course, enraged one of our brothers who proclaimed "I'm the fasted guy on the rugby team!!" To which I thought to myself, "Is this really how the sausage is made here, at the tightest brotherhood on campus?" I was much more concerned with people's character, whether I wanted to drink a beer with them, whether I could rely on them, rather than their footspeed. Luckily, Pi Lam sausage contains multitudes--our sausages are yoodge.
Looking past Marls' staid appearance and bad hygiene, I saw that he had a ton of heart, a motor that wouldn't quit, and a snarky Yankee attitude. He was clearly the type of guy who you could rely on when you needed help. He comes up big, some might say bigly, and unexpectedly so. He outkicks his coverage. Nowadays he showers regularly and wears (relatively) clean clothes. His "set the clippers on one" haircut and lawyerly attire present a no-nonsense mien, but he's still the same fratty powerhouse underneath that unremarkable shell. Despite his Teutonic heritage he is, in a word, a mensch.
Marls should drive a 1993 Mercedes 500E, black with black leather, and with the windows tinted as much as the Virginia DMV will allow.
W-124 is the internal code name Mercedes-Benz used for their E-class cars produced between 1985 and 1996. These are considered to be some of the best-made cars of all time. They routinely last for 300,000 miles. They are preposterously reliable. They have a cult following not unlike our President*. In fact, I work with a guy who has at least four W-124s: a 300TE wagon (in this insane non-metallic pistachio green that makes me lose all decorum every time I see it in the garage), a 300CE cabriolet (also non-metallic green, but deeper, a coniferous color), a 300E sedan (non-metallic maroon) and a black over black 500E with tinted windows. They are all fucking glorious.
If you don't care about cars, the 500E doesn't look like much, just another old Benz. Turns out that the 500E is the result of an unholy alliance between MB and Porsche. For reasons I don't completely understand, Mercedes turned to the boys from Zuffenhausen to help them turn the W-124 platform into a hotrod. Mercedes wanted to put their 322 hp 5.0L V8 from their SL roadster into an E class, and Porsche had to modify the body and undercarriage so much that the car was too wide to be manufactured in MB's facility, so Porsche had to build it in their plant.
Porsche didn't fuck with robots back then, so they built the 500E by hand. So that boring old Benz you see on this page? That's the first Porsche four-door sedan, engineered and bolted together manually, one screw at a time by Porsche engineers. Can't say that about the Panamera. They didn't make a lot of these, about ten thousand, and most people don't even appreciate them when they see them in the flesh. But if you take the time to look under the hood of a 500E, you'll realize it's something special.
Make no mistake, the 500E will eat a Boxster's lunch in a straight line and in the twisties, and it's comfortable as hell so you can take your clients to dinner. It is in all likelihood the best all-around car from the analog age, and the cops won't hate on you for driving it. We probably won't see anything like it ever again--a family sedan from one of the premiere mass-market luxury manufacturers of all time, engineered and assembled by hand by the best German sports car firm ever. And it's a goddamn Benz made back when Benz really cared about being Benz, which means it's more solid than a bank vault and you know your kid will be safe in the back seat no matter what.
The 500E will take care of you and yours, and kick everyone else's ass if it has to. That's what Marls should drive.
[This post was sent to me at 3:58pm yesterday afternoon. G:TB Special Correspondent Marls, for reasons only known to him and his imam, chose to sacrifice his body for the greater good and eat a KFC Double Down sandwich. His tale is below.]
By the grace of God and my convoluted work schedule, today was the perfect day to try the mythical bunless wonder. After getting to the office at 5:30 this morning in order to get some work done, around 11 I journeyed up to the House that Jeter Built for a client event. After several morning/early afternoon beers at Stans and a random discussion with the Z-Man's sister, it was time to head to Penn station for my 3 pm train to DC. I arrived several minutes early, just in time to grab a quick bite. But what to get? Then, like a beacon in the night, the Tim Hortons/Taco Bell/KFC combo counter called out to me. After waiting in line for 15 min, I was awarded my prize. Two pieces of the Harland Sanders' chicken sandwiching two strips of bacon, a slice of jack cheese, and KFC special sauce. I not have been more let down since realizing that Mrs. Paci did not actually make those beans. Here is why...
1. Appearance: Not that fast food ever does, but this thing doesn't look like the sandwich in the commercial at all. The chicken is irregular shaped and the fixins are squishing out all over. Basically, it looks like a pile of crap. A pile of crap that you are expected to eat. Not a good start.
2. Taste: This is where I expected the DD to shine. Released from the shackles of the bun, I expected the chicken, the cheese, the bacon, the sauce, and the 11 herbs and spices to shine through, to explode into one's mouth Peter North style. Nope. Tastes like some chicken with bacon and cheese. The sauce is ok, but the whole thing was still rather dry. The Col. found a way to make bones almost edible and popcorn style chicken, but somehow they can't keep this pile of fat and goo moist. I just don't understand.
3. Eatability: Trying to eat this thing is a flat out shitshow. The neat little package shown on TV becomes an oozing, greasy mess in reality. It turns out that the Earl of Sandwich really knew what the fuck he was talking about when he put meat et al. between two slices of bread. The bun serves a purpose folks. It allows us to eat messy foods while not looking like half starved Neanderthals. In this one moment I realized what a perfect and under appreciated delivery system the bun is. The little paper condom that KFC gives you to hold this thing is useless. In the end, you are left holding the greasy, half eaten remains of a chicken cutlet. Not good times.
Clearly, you can see I am not a fan. However, this may need to be something every man & Shlara experience for themselves. Just remember, bread is not the enemy, it is a long overlooked friend that may be full of calories, but is around when you need them...kinda like Swint.
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