the big arch: mcdonald's gets it right

When I go to McDonald’s, which isn't very often, my default order is a Big Mac. I genuinely love the taste of a Big Mac. The sauce, the lettuce, the pickles, the whole odd architectural arrangement of the thing — it’s a very distinctive flavor.

But there’s one problem: A Big Mac doesn’t satisfy.

I eat one, and when I’m done, I immediately feel like I could eat another. And after that… maybe another. A Big Mac is delicious, but it never quite leaves me feeling like I actually ate.

So when McDonald’s introduced a new burger called the Big Arch (currently being offered for a limited time), I figured I’d give it a try. OK. That's not quite accurate. I was champing at the bit, waiting for the grand introduction. And after making the rounds of distributing our shaloch manos baskets to friends and neighbors, the next stop was McDonald's.

One important thing that I noticed was simple but important: one was enough.

The Big Arch actually satisfied me. I ate it, finished it, and didn’t feel the urge to immediately order a second burger. That alone puts it in a very different category from the Big Mac.

Meat vs. Everything Else

My theory is that the key difference is the ratio of meat to “other stuff.”

The Big Mac has two thin patties buried under a lot of bun, lettuce, and sauce — plus the famous middle bun, which seems designed primarily to increase the bread-to-meat ratio.

The Big Arch, by contrast, is built around two much larger patties, with white cheddar cheese, onions (both fresh and crispy), pickles, lettuce, and a tangy sauce. The toppings are there, but the meat is clearly the main attraction.

And since meat is the thing that actually satisfies hunger, this feels like the correct design philosophy for a hamburger.

A Familiar Flavor…for a Moment

When I first bit into the Big Arch, I briefly got a hint of Big Mac flavor. That’s probably coming from the sauce, which is clearly related to Big Mac sauce but seems a bit tangier.

But that sensation lasted only a moment. Very quickly it felt like I was eating what the Big Mac has always pretended to be: an actual burger.

A Big Mac is delicious, but, while it is burgerlike, it never really feels like a burger in the traditional sense. The Big Arch does.

Is It Basically a Double Quarter Pounder?

A colleague of mine — who asked not to be named (I don't know why) — told me that the Big Arch is essentially very close to a Double Quarter Pounder with Cheese, just with different toppings.

Instead of ketchup and mustard, you get the tangy sauce. Instead of the standard American cheese, you get white cheddar. There are more onions, and the overall construction is a little different.

I haven’t tested this theory yet, but if the Big Arch disappears (and it’s currently being advertised as a limited-time item), I may experiment with the Double Quarter Pounder as a substitute.

The Cheese Question

One thing I’m still unsure about is the cheese.

The Big Arch uses white cheddar rather than the standard American cheese McDonald’s puts on Big Macs and Quarter Pounders. I think it’s better — it certainly tasted better to me — but I’m not entirely confident that wasn’t just the overall burger being better.

More research may be required.

Final Verdict

The bottom line is simple: I would absolutely order the Big Arch again.

In fact, I’d go further than that. It’s way, way, way better than any burger McDonald’s has ever sold before.

Which raises an interesting question: What would Joe rate it?

I can’t say for sure. But if a made-for-TV movie about frozen scientists can earn a 10, I suspect a McDonald’s burger that finally gets the meat-to-everything-else ratio right would at least be in contention.

strategically asking about cheese

Sharon and I try to get breakfast together regularly. Almost always on Saturdays — which is why we call it Dadurday. We do miss a week here and there. Life has a way of scheduling over the things that matter most. But in principle, Saturday morning is ours.

We usually go to the Landmark Diner in Roslyn. I usually order a burger. And I say this without exaggeration: their burgers are among the best I’ve ever had. Perfectly grilled, great flavor, emotionally reassuring.

And then comes the question:

“Do you want cheese?”

This is where things become complicated.

In theory, I like cheese on a burger. In practice, I like pepper jack on a burger. Other cheeses are...other cheeses. American is tolerable, I guess, though it hardly counts as cheese. Cheddar is serviceable. Swiss is OK. Blue cheese is, in my considered judgment, gross. I understand that some people claim to enjoy it. I wish them well.

Plain is also good -- burgers din't need cheese. Whether I want pepper jack or plain depends on mood, weather conditions, and perhaps deeper existential factors.

Early on, when asked about cheese, I would inquire about options. Pepper jack was not among them. Sometimes I would specifically ask. The answer remained no. Sometimes I declined cheese. Sometimes I chose a different cheese.

But over time, I realized I was not merely ordering lunch.

I was participating in a game.

This is a classic signaling problem. The diner is a rational actor. Its objective function is simple: maximize profit by selling food people want. My objective is to consume a burger, ideally topped with pepper jack.

However, information is imperfect.

If I simply decline cheese, the diner concludes I have no cheese demand.

If I hear the list and decline without commentary, the signal is noisy. Perhaps I’m indecisive. Perhaps I’m temporarily lactose-averse. No actionable data.

If I select cheddar or Swiss, then from the diner’s perspective, the equilibrium holds. The absence of pepper jack did not cost them a sale. No incentive to adjust supply.

Which leads to my optimal strategy.

To shift the equilibrium, I must create a credible signal of unmet demand.

So now, I:

Express interest in cheese.

Ask what kinds they have.

Specifically inquire about pepper jack.

Upon learning (again) that they do not have it, I decline cheese and note, gently, that I would have taken it if pepper jack were available.

This transforms a private preference into observable lost revenue.

I am, in effect, conducting a one-man market intervention.

Will this tip the curve? Probably not. It’s entirely possible that my weekly inquiry disappears into the noise of a busy Saturday shift. The kitchen may not be maintaining a Pepper Jack Request Ledger.

But in game-theoretic terms, I have at least moved from a pooling equilibrium (all cheese preferences indistinguishable) to a separating one (my preference clearly signaled).

And I have done so politely.

None of this is criticism. The people at Landmark are great. Truly. Always friendly. Always welcoming. Always patient when I ask for the cheese list as though new dairy products might have entered the market since last week. It’s consistently a terrific experience.

Dadurday, of course, is not actually about cheese.

It’s about sitting across from Sharon and talking. About her week. About what she’s thinking. About whatever small or large thing is occupying her mind. It’s about carving out time before the day accelerates. And even if we're spending some of the time on our phones, that's OK.

The burger is excellent. The game theory is mildly amusing.

But the real equilibrium I’m protecting is this one: we show up.

And if, someday, the server says, “Yes, we have pepper jack,” I’ll smile, order it, and Sharon will probably roll her eyes — because she has heard this analysis before.

Which is, in its own way, part of the tradition.

on tipping -- and why I still do it

I'm posting this because I have seen a bunch of social media posts (on a bunch of platforms) about the subject of tipping. I know that, the algorithm being what it is, most people aren't seeing what I'm seeing. I also realize that no one asked for my opinion. Too bad.

I don’t like the current tipping system. If I were designing things from scratch, I’d much prefer a system where tips are not expected — or better yet, not allowed at all. In that world, servers would be paid a proper, predictable wage, menu prices would be higher to reflect that reality, and everyone would know what they’re paying for upfront. No math at the table, no moral arithmetic afterward.

But that isn’t the system we have.

In the system we do have, servers rely on tips. And just as importantly, the prices I see on the menu are built around that fact. They’re lower precisely because the restaurant is not paying full wages and is instead shifting part of that responsibility onto the customer. So if I were to refuse to tip on principle, I wouldn’t be staging a protest — I’d simply be taking advantage of artificially low pricing while someone else absorbs the cost.

That doesn’t sit right with me.

I can dislike the system and still acknowledge the reality I’m participating in. Until the rules change, choosing not to tip doesn’t punish “the system”; it punishes the person who brought the food to my table. And simply saying that "it's the restaurant's job to pay them better" doesn't address the fact that I'm getting a lower menu prices because the restaurant isn't paying them better. 

That said, I do notice that expectations have shifted. When I was growing up, 15% was considered a solid tip for decent service. You tipped more for exceptional service, less if things went badly, but 15% was the baseline. Now the default seems closer to 20%, with suggested amounts sometimes climbing higher than that. Whether that reflects rising costs of living, social pressure, or tip creep driven by point-of-sale screens, I’m not entirely sure — but it has changed.

So I find myself in an uncomfortable middle ground: disliking the system, recognizing its flaws, noticing its evolution, and still tipping — because opting out unilaterally isn’t reform, it’s just imbalance.

I’d happily support a different model. I’d even pay higher menu prices for it. But until that model actually exists, I tip — not because I love the system, but because I live in it.

the big mcdonalds in my head

 Decades ago I used to go to a semiannual trivia contest in Williamstown, Massachusetts. For those who are interested the official (or semi-official? I have no idea) page for the contest is here.

But this post isn't about that contest.

The drive up to Williams for the contest was a four to five hour road trip that took us through Pittsfield, Massachusetts.

On one particular trip, I was driving with a friend, Evan. We were getting peckish as we approached Pittsfield. I suggested that we stop at the McDonalds that was "a little bit ahead, on the right." Good idea, Evan agreed. But a little bit ahead there was no McDonalds. Just an empty field. Which seemed strange to me -- I knew there was a McDonalds there. I could picture it in my head. And I told Evan that.

Hungry and annoyed, Evan made some comment about it just being "a big McDonalds in your head." And I had to eat crow. Because as sure there was a McDonalds there, it seemed implausible to argue against the evidence. That evidence being that there was clearly no McDonalds there.

But I happened to be driving through Pittsfield yesterday. In that very place that, in its McDonaldslessness, had let me down decades ago, there is now a McDonalds.

I wasn't wrong; I was just ahead of my time.

video review -- watermelon phocus

 Tomorrow, May 16, Phocus is releasing its newest flavor, watermelon. Even though its official release isn't until tomorrow, it was possible to buy it in advance and feel special if you were willing to give Phocus your email address. So, since I'm getting in on this at a time before zero, I figure I may as well do a video review. The same thing happened with strawberry kiwi, which was the prior newest flavor. Except I didn't get around to doing a tasting/review video before the release. so I never posted one. 

By way of background, Phocus is caffeinated flavored seltzer. Each can has 75 mg of caffeine, which I am told is the equivalent of a cup of coffee. As a flavored seltzer, it is unsweetened. So no sugar and no artificial sweeteners.

Looking at Phocus' website, it appears that this is the thirteenth flavor, though I recall there being a "plain" flavor, which I don't see now.

Anyway my thoughts on the new watermelon flavor are above in the video. For the record, it is my new favorite. Below are quick comments about each of the others: I used a random number generator to decide what order to list them in. That seemed fair enough to me.

• Cherry Cola
  Sharon's favorite. Eminently drinkable. Almost tastes sweet
• Strawberry Kiwi
  Pretty good, though the strawberryness is somewhat artificial-tasting
• Yuzu & Lime
  Until watermelon came out, this was my favorite. I guess it still is until tomorrow
• Cola
  Meh. Tastes sort of like watered down cola. It's drinkable, but not much more
• Cucumber
  Yuck. This is by far the worst. I will not drink it under any reasonably-foreseeable circumstances
• Root Beer
  Sort of like cola, only root beer
• Crisp Apple
  Very apple-tasting. I don't really care for it, but I'll drink it in a caffeine emergency
• Mint
  More refreshing than I expected it to be. Not my favorite, but it's pretty good
• Peach
  I don't like peach-flavored things, except those peach gummies. This isn't those, so it's undrinkable. Unless you like peach
• Grapefruit
  I would have thought I'd like this more than I do. It's OK, I guess
• Blood Orange
  Smack dab between Grapefruit and Yuzu & Lime is Blood Orange. It's drinkable, but not a favorite
• Mixed Berry
  It tastes like it should be sweet, even though it isn't.

Anyway, enjoy. Or don't. I won't know. It's kosher, if that matters to you. Actually, it's kosher even if that doesn't matter to you.

snacks for the mailman (3)

About a week ago I posted about the fact that we put out snacks for delivery people. Yesterday I posted about the fact that some stranger dropped off some snacks to put out with the others. Those posts were here and here.

I didn't expect the topic to become a series, but this the third entry about it. So now I'm numbering it as such. We'll see if there's a fourth.

Yesterday we had the annoying experience of someone taking all the snacks. It may have been an innocent mistake. We had put out stuff for freecycle, so maybe the up-picker honestly thought the snacks were part of it. Maybe not. We'll never know for sure. But either way it left us needing to buy more snacks to put out.

Then, in the eveneing, Blair and I were out at a freind's house enjoying an end-of-summer get-together. Sharon called. Sharon and Asher went out to pick up food. When they got back they found that someone had left a case of root beer.

This is all getting weird.

snacks from a stranger

 A week ago I wrote a post about the snack box we put outside for the mailman (as well as various others who find themselves at our door. That post is here.

This week brought a surprise. Someone -- not anyone who lives here -- added a bunch of snacks to the box. I have no idea what to say about it other than to note it.

Thanks, stranger!

kosher banking?

At the bank today, I noticed they had this kashrut certificate up:

This had me kind of puzzled, since it was a bank, not a food market.

I asked the teller why the bank needed such a certificate, and she explained that it's for the lollipops. Yes, the bank did have a few strategically placed trays with lollipops. And I might have realized that that's what the certificate was for if I had read it carefully; the section in the middle indicates that it is for the "Chase Bank Jolly Pops."

But I am still left with a question. Under "Restrictions," the certificate indicates that "Kof-K symbol [is] required." The wrappers on the lollipops -- excuse me, jolly pops -- had the Chase logo, but not the Kof-K symbol. Of course, if they had the Kof-K symbol, that would have sufficed and the kashrut certificate would have been redundant. But without the symbol, it seems to me, there's nothing present to assure me that the lollipops are kosher. Or am I missing something?

snacks for the mailman

 

I have no idea how long we'll keep it up, but for now we keep a box of snacks out on the front porch for the mailman. And, I suppose, any other delivery people who bring us things.

It started a couple months ago. Blair and the kids were on the West coast, and I was home alone for a couple weeks. I invited a few people over to watch music documentaries with me on a Saturday night. I ordered pizza and bought snacks. As usual, I overbought.

There are several reasons I overbought. The primary one is that I'm neurotic. Growing up I heard my father tell and retell about the "lotta lox" incident. With that bit of family lore, I absorbed the notion that the worst possible mishap is to run out of some food or refreshment when there are guests over. But there's another quirk I have. Suppose, for argument's sake, I'm buying meat for a cookout, that there will be ten people, and that I plan to cook hamburgers, hot dogs and chicken breasts. I ask myself how many hamburgers I may need. I figure that the most hamburgers anyone will want is three. So, with ten people, I will need thirty hamburgers. The most hot dogs anyone will want is four. So forty hot dogs. And the most chicken breasts anyone will want is two. So twenty chicken breasts. I've gotten a little better about it over the years, but I still buy way too much. Also, I had a couple of cancellations, so I was expecting more people than actually came.

The upshot is that I had way too much in the way of snack food. And, this being the era of COVID, the snacks were in individual serving size packages. That way people didn't have to reach into communal bowls with their hands.

When all was said and done, I didn't mind having the extra snacks left over. I work from home, so I figured they'd last a while.

But when Blair got back from California a week later, she had other ideas. The snacks all went into a box on the front porch with a sign telling people to "please take." Probably just her way of making sure I didn't eat them. But it was a big hit with the mailman and delivery folk. They didn't make chazeirim out of themselves. But they've been taking. And we've been replenishing, including with some drinks.

As I said, we';ll see how long it lasts. But the fact is it's good to be on the mailman's good side.

a part of my youth was wrong

We all have our memories from high school. I have vivid memories of the Zion Deli, which was on First Avenue between 15th and 16th Streets in Manhattan -- just around the corner from my High School, which was on 15th Street between First and Second Avenues.

I would, when I was occasionally feeling flush, go there for lunch. And I have told many people about that deli. Blair, for one, has heard me sing the praises of its sandwiches. Probably more times than she cares to recall. Of course, the deli closed in the mid-1980s -- not many years after I graduated from high school. And the high school moved to Battery Park City in the 1990s. So, well, that's that.

Anyway, I went looking on the interwebs today to see if I could find out anything about it. I couldn't find much except for this post in Ephemeral New York, a blog devoted to old-time New York. And what I learned shocked me. The place wasn't The Zion Delicatessen, as I had thought. It was Schwatrtzberg's Delicatessen. All those years, all those stories and conversations, and I never knew the correct name of the place.

My memories are a fraud.

just another shopping trip

 We -- Blair, Ethan and I -- went out grocery shopping. Blair texted Asher to see if he wanted anything. Hilarity ensued.

Blair:
Want anything from Whole Foods

Asher:
yes

Blair:
What do you want

Asher:
yes

Blair:
If you only say yes, I will not know what you want

Asher:
ok

Blair:
If you do not tell me what specific items you want I will not be able to get them

Asher:
sushi

Blair:
No sushi [editor's note: Blair was not denying Asher sushi. Rather, she was telling him that they were out of sushi]

Asher:

Blair:

Asher:

k

Did you get this

Blair:
We have Makinajian chicken at home

Asher:
Did you get it

I need to know

Blair:

The closest we got was Bell and Evans and turkey slices for Eighteen

Asher:

Get out

Blair:
What do you want

Asher:

This

Blair:

Do you want me to buy a soup chicken

Asher:

Blair:
Can you come outside and help with groceries

Asher:

k

on bottled water

I've been drinking a lot of water recently. I had a brief conversation about it with my manager at work -- several times when we were on the phone he could hear the sound of me gulping from the water bottle. Or maybe it was the bottle glugging as it surrendered its contents to my waiting lips.

He wasn't angry. Actually, he seemed kind of amused. I've known him for over 30 years, so we have a good rapport. And so, when he heard my gulping, we started talking about water. But when I mentioned that I buy bottled, he paused. I could practically hear his eyes rolling. He made some kind of comment about the wastefulness of buying bottled water when tap water is a tiny fraction of the price. In fact, New York City's tap water is known for being among the best.

Slightly embarassed, I kind of downplayed it. I forget if I blamed it on the kids or on Blair. But he sympathized -- he wants his family to drink tap, but his wife and kids want bottled. If I recall correctly, he lost that fight.

The fact is, I know a lot of people who refuse to buy bottled water. And others who will buy it when they're out and about, but not for drinking at home. And I kind of understand. It seems irresponsible to pay two dollars for something when I can get the same thing for a penny.*

But the thing is, they're not the same. Some bottled waters taste better than tap. There was a time that I tried drinking tap water at home. And I just didn't drink it. I'd fill a bottle with it and have the bottle next to me as I worked. And unless I made a conscious effort to force myself, I wouldn't drink it. And the same is true of some of the lesser waters.

But if I have one of my favorites, I'll drink a lot of it without really thinking. At this point I usually have a case of it by my desk, so I will drink several liters during any given day. I suspect this has contributed to my recent weight loss. If my belly is full of water, I feel less need to eat. I'm not saying that the water is the only factor. But I am sure it's a part of it.

So, what are my favorite waters? I have found that I like the mouth flavor of the high-pH waters -- which, coincidentally, my dentist says are good for teeth. Among those, the ones that taste the best are Starkey, Iceland Natural and Fiji.

____________________

*These numbers are illustrative for making my point. This should not be viewed as an assertion about the actual prices of bottled or tap water.

goodbye blue bay, hello landmark

Since the autumn of 2019*, Sharon and I have been having breakfast together every Saturday. I wrote about the start of that tradition here. We tried a variety of ways to have our breakfasts, but eventually found ourselves with a regular routine -- the nearby Blue Bay Diner. More exactly, because of COVID, the tent outside of the Blue Bay Diner. For months that's been our regular.

The biggest problem has been the cold. They have heaters in the tent, but on particularly cold days it gets uncomfortable. So last Saturday, with threatened lows, we decided to go into Nassau County (where indoor dining is allowed) and the Landmark Diner. I'm not sure why I picked the Landmark, except that I have vague memories of being there before, and I have no negative associations with it. So off we went, figuring that this was a temporary change of routine -- that when there was warmer weather again, we'd be back at the Blue Bay.

But it doesn't look like that's how it'll be. We agreed that the food was better. And as we ate our meal, we both kind of came to the realization that we want to go back. Sharon particularly noted that there are a bunch of menu items she'd like to try. I'd be happy to keep getting the burger week after week, but we'll see. While we're at it, I noticed that the prices were slightly better. I guess I also liked being able to eat indoors, but that's something that's really out of Blue Bay's control.

It's Friday night as I write this, and Sharon and I are planning to go back to Landmark tomorrow morning. And I feel kind of sad about it. I've actually been feeling sad about it all week. I know I shouldn't. If one business provides a better product, I go to that business. So I've been trying to figure out why this change bothers me.

But I think Blair got it. The Blue Bay isn't just another restaurant to me. It's practically a landmark (hah! I just noticed what I did there!). And it has a special place in my memory. When I was a kid, my maternal grandparents lived in the Pittsburgh area. They'd visit us once or twice a year. And one highlight of each visit was a dinner at the Blue Bay Diner. Young me thought the Blue Bay was a fancy restaurant. By abandoning it for the Landmark, I may be turning my back on a piece of my childhood.

And that makes me sad. But the burgers at the Landmark...

_____________________________
*Originally I typed 1989. I don't know why.

the pastrami shirt

First, a shameless plug. You can go to Sharon's Zazzle store to buy the shirts discussed here.

A couple years ago -- I'm not sure how many -- I asked Sharon if she could draw a pastrami sandwich for us to make pastrami-themed T-shirts. I had ideas for what the shirts should say, but lacked the artistic skills to create the shirts that my mind was envisioning.

It took a long time to get things going.

Sharon was interested in the challenge, but it was hard for me to explain what was in my head as the iconic pastrami sandwich picture. It had to be an overstuffed sandwich on rye bread. Cut in half, with both halves facing the viewer. And the top slice of bread has to be sort of arched because of the meat below it. It was really hard to convey what was in my brain. Eventually, we started googling "pastrami sandwich" and we found some pictures that looked pretty close. But Sharon was having trouble drawing a sandwich that she felt was good enough. I thought several of her pictures were plenty fine, but she was unhappy with them.

Eventually, I asked if she could take an actual picture and use software tools to turn it into a drawing. She liked that idea. But then there was another issue. It didn't seem like a good idea to start with someone else's picture and use it for a T-shirt design that she would sell. Even if she digitally altered the picture, it seemed to me that this would present an ethical problem, and probably a legal one as well. Admittedly, it seemed like a remote possibility that it would cause us problems. But, still...

Fortunately, I hit on a better idea. We could buy a pastrami sandwich at Sarge's and take pictures of it. Then she could work with the pictures. No copyright issue. No concern ethics. Of course, someone would have to eat the sandwich, but that was a sacrifice I was willing to make.

Even with all that, it took a while before everything was done. This wasn't exactly Sharon's top priority. She's a teenage girl who's into drawing animals. I don't really believe she was greatly enthused about drawing deli meats for her middle-aged father. But she did it eventually. I think one thing that helped encourage her was when her friend started selling mugs online with one of her drawings. It wasn't pastrami -- it was a drog. I guess it helped when she saw how easy it is.

So now she has her Zazzle store with three different pastrami T-shirts. And one drog. Next I'll see if I can get her to add T-shirts with math jokes on them. 

a guinness float

 A Facebook exchange reminded me of an incident from a couple decades ago. I was living in Flushing, and occasionally had lunch at Bridie's, an Irish pub/restaurant in the area.

I don't know exactly what gave me the inspiration, but for some reason I decided that the perfect dessert would be a Guinness float -- vanilla ice cream drowned in Guinness Stout. The request caught my waitress by surprise. She asked me to repeat it, and had me describe what I had in mind. Of course, I couldn't back down so I feigned confidence and sureness as I repeated the order and described it. Satisfied that I knew what I was doing, she scribbled it into her pad and disappeared.

A minute later the bartender popped by to question me. I repeated for him what I wanted. I turned down the suggested whipped cream. Shrugging, he walked away. And soon the waitress was back with my float.

I was happily anticipating the dessert, expecting -- well, I don't quite know what I was expecting. Something good. I was disappointed. The odd blend of bitter and sweet was revolting. But I noticed that the waitress, keeping a distance, was watching was an intense look of interest. So I couldn't back down. I hated every disgusting spoonful but I finished the damn thing.

I paid and left. The walk home was a short one - maybe a quarter mile. But it seemed to last forever as I fought the urge to vomit. But I figured that was the end of it. It was an experiment. A failure, I suppose, but an experiment.

And the next time I went to Bridie's for lunch? No sooner had I taken a seat than the same waitress came over carrying a baby in her arms. She pointed to me, and said to the baby (in her heavy Irish brogue) "That's the funny man who ordered a Guinness Float." At least, I consoled myself, I had become a legend.

 Bridie's isn't there anymore. The neighborhood changed, and it has been replaced by a Korean barbecue place. I don't live near there anymore, but I sometimes drive by. And every time I do I'm tempted to stop, go in, and order a Mek-Ju float.

on cow drawings and cheese

TL/DR: Sharon drew a cute calf for Cabot. 

Blair and Ethan were popping into the supermarket to get some things. I asked for Muenster cheese. I should note here that I'm the only one in the house who likes Muenster cheese.

"This one doesn't have good cheese," Ethan told me.

I started to say that I'll be fine with whatever they have, but Blair beat me to it. "They have stuff that's good enough for Aba," she told him. After 21 years of marriage, the lady knows me.

And the next morning, I grabbed a couple slices of cheese just before starting work. And it was...well, I wouldn't say "inedible." I mean, it'd be disingenuous to say that it was inedible, because I did end up eating the whole package over the course of a few days. But it did taste kind of bad -- in a "thank God I finished that so I don't have to eat anymore, because there are starving kids in <fill in place where kids are starving>" sort of way.

So I learned that some brands of cheese don;t taste as good as others. I should have known. And the fact is I've gotten spoiled by Blair and Ethan's taste in food. I grumble that they buy stuff that's more expensive than what I used to buy for myself when I was single. So, yes...Fiji water tastes better than Poland Spring which tastes better than tap. And some brands (e.g., Organic Valley) make better cheese than other brands (e.g., Borden).

And, while we're on the topic of cheese, another really good brand is Cabot, which brings me to what was originally going to be the topic of this post. Yeah, I can go off on tangents when I really get going.

So, Cabot has some kind of contest going on to draw a cow for them. I don't know if it's for their logo or not, or if it's just to get attention. I don't know if there's a prize. I know nothing, except that Sharon entered with the cow picture shown at the top of this post.

I asked her to text me her picture so I could see it. When I saw it, I tried to respond with "cool." But with my fat fingers, it came up as "cook." Which, with my meat-eating ways, did not appear to be a simple typo.

Sharon's response was "Don't cook him."

Ever-observant, I made a correction. "Her."

I hope she wins, but even if she doesn't, I like the drawing. And I don't like Borden's Muenster cheese.

floral fridays: let's taste some daylilies

Maybe you're looking for ways to jazz up your salads? Here's a handy guide to how various daylilies stack up against each other. Well, 14 cultivars, anyway...

Ice Carnival: 4
Bed Head: 3
War Horse: 3
Fixed Income: 4
Red Revival: 1
Lilly and Petals: 1
Exotic Love: 2
Delight Fisher: 1
Mynelle's Starfish: 3
Bama Bound: 5
Laughing Giraffe: 1
Spider Man: 3
Flash of Javelins: 4
Space Junk: 2

froot loop pop tarts? what will they think of next

I can remember a time when Kellogg's at least pretended that  Pop Tarts were an appropriate breakfast food.

recipe: deep fried pickle slices

I promised a couple people (Rod, Susan, I mean you) that I would share my recipe for deep fried pickle slices. So here it is. That said, I should preface this by noting that this is not particularly complicated, and it's not as if a have a recipe with a big R. It's something I tried doing based on my genmeralized knowledge of cooking (on Ethan's willingness to answer a few basic questions. So this is a sort-of step-by-step guide, and pretty informal and not very linear.

The required ingredients are as follows:

• pickle slices: I used dill slices, though I imagine you can use other kinds. Part of me wants to try this with an assortment of pickle types, and have a batch of assorted.
• all-purpose flour: I know what they say about all-purpose flour; it's adequate for all purposes, but good for none. Go ahead and pick a better flour. Let me know how it works.
• eggs
• bread crumbs: I used unflavored panko. If you prefer another kind, go for it. I also hear the corn flakes work.
• oil: I prefer avocado oil. It doesn't have a strong flavor, and it does have a high smoke point.

Essentially, there are four steps. I'll first list them individually, then provide commentary.

• Coat the pickle slices in flour.
• Dip them in egg
• Coat them in bread crumbs
• Deep fry them

The easiest way to flour-coat the slices (at least for me) is to put flour in a zip-lock bag, then pour in the pickle slices (after draining the excess liquid from the jar) and shake. After that, I do the egg-dip and crumb-coat for each slice in turn. Meaning, I take a bread-coated slice, dip it in egg and then cover it with bread crumbs. This is as opposed to dipping all of them in the egg and the covering all of them in bread crumbs. This is sort of a culinary equivalent of the sock-sock-shoe-shoe vs. sock-shoe-sock-shoe debate from All in the Family (video below) except that there are three steps instead of two. Think of it as if you have to put on socks, shoes and galoshes. So the proper sequence is sock-sock-shoe-galosh-shoe-galosh.

It's worth noting that, in my experience, the flour and egg kind of resist adhering to each other. So the egg-dipping part requires more than just an instantaneous contact.

Anyway, once the pickle slices are all triple-coated, they have to be deep-fried. I do not have a deep-frier, so I use a sauce-pan. I put oil in the sauce-pan until it's a few inches deep, and then heat over a high flame until the oil is somewhere in the neighborhood of 325-350 degrees Fahrenheit. Remember I mentioned that I like avocado oil in part because of its high smoke point? According to Wikipedia, avocado oil has a smoke point of 520 degrees, so targeting 325-350 leaves me with plenty of wiggle room. When the oil is in that desired temperature range, I turn down the flame so it doesn't get too hot. That said, I don't go completely nutsoid over temperature-monitoring. I generally don't start the oil heating until after all the pickle slices are dipped and ready. It may be a few minutes quicker to start it sooner, but I don't want to risk it burning if I'm distracted, and I just don't want to have a saucepan of oil that I'm keeping hot for an extended  period while I'm off tending to something else.

Anyway, I put the pickle slices in the hot oil until they turn golden brown. That takes a few minutes. Unless you're cooking very few pickle slices or using a very wide saucepan, this has to be done in shifts. They float at the surface of the oil, and I put enough to fill out one layer. When they're done, I take them out, put them on a paper towel to soak up the excess oil, and then put the next bunch in the oil.

Enjoy.

Oh yeah...I use a slotted spoon (see ad below) to remove the chips from the oil. I like the wholes because that way I'm not pulling an extra ton of oil out of the pan.

ca-fiend!

Being that caffeine is one of most important ingestibles, I am trying to keep track of the caffeine content of various soda products. I've known for a while that Pepsi has more caffeine than Coke, and Dr. Pepper has more than Pepsi. Oh, and Mountain Dew has even more. But at some point it gets difficult to remember the entire heirarchy.

Rather than go to a store and just check all the labels, I have gotten into the habit of checking cans when I either have one (Ssshhhh! don't tell Marina!) or see a friend or colleague having one. The table (so far) is shown in the illustration.

Here are a few comments and notes:

• This is still a small sample (maybe if ,my reader is nice I'll post an update when the list is longer)
• It appears that all products with the same branding (e.g., all types of "Coke" or all types of "Pepsi") have the same caffeine content. I assume that the difference between the 12-ounce can of Coke (2.8333 mg caffeine per ounce) and the 20-ounce bottle of Orange Vanilla Coke (2.8500 mg caffeine per ounce) is due to rounding. Similarly for the difference between Cherry Pepsi and Pepsi (with real sugar).
• For now, this is just about sodas. Not iced teas or energy drinks. I may change that approach if I feel like it.

You're welcome.