Days of Pork Belly & Roses.

When I was in high school, one of my teachers gave us a writing assignment she called a "55 word short story." The parameters are fantastically manageable. 55 words? I got that covered. On a good day, I type at 140 WPM. Thinly veiled innuendo not withstanding, I can pump out more than 2 of 'em in a minute. It's also the perfect amount for my generation's attention span (I probably could fit a 55 word short story in a tweet!). Without further ado, I present to you two 55 word short stories:

The Kiss

The two teens were more concerned with experimenting on the effects of exchanging saliva than they were with photosynthesis. Inexperienced passion filled the room. Hearing the call, they rushed to make it to dinner on time. They hastily put back on their clothes. She told him, “Thank God you’re adopted and not my real brother.”

The Argument

He rattled against the wood panel. “Can anyone hear me?” Furious, he kept pounding, his impotent rage matched only by the muddled cacophony he created. “They must be able to hear me,” he thought. He desperately needed to have a word with his wife. Unfortunately, six feet of dirt stood between the two of them.

Okay, I've decided that I'm going to take a temporary break from writing 55 word short stories until I can employ themes that aren't incest or death. I'll be back.

The Worst of the Wurst.

Like your high school sweetheart, I can completely neglect you for years and the moment I return demanding your attention, you become putty in my hands, easily forgetting about that time I intentionally forgot your birthday to watch a Law & Order: Special Victims Unit marathon.

There's a site on the internet called FMyLife (for the record, the "F" stands for "Fuck"). In case you're unfamiliar with the site, it's the most efficient internet schadenfreude delivery service that is currently operational. People announce that their significant other is engaged with another person's genitalia, they got their period at an awkward time, or that their teacher doesn't like them. You can usually click "I agree, your life sucks" (which I never click) or "you totally deserved it" (which I usually click despite whether or not the person actually deserved it).

Overall, there are more misses than hits, but I still am disproportionately engaged with that site. The more time you spend with it the more time you want to yell at whomever is announcing "FML."

That being said, I recently have shamefully found myself clicking the "Moderate the FMLs." I assume this is to use the wisdom of crowds in order to avoid having to pay someone to moderate the submissions. The process is thus: someone writes their story of self pity and you click a green check mark or a red "x" to show your level of approval. Enough approval garnered, the story hits the website proper for the world to see.

People who submit to this internet website are the worst. I'm so angry at some of these people that I decided to write a blog post on my blog that I've neglected for a year. Here are some selections of FMLs that are currently under moderation and my anger that follows:

"Today, my dad is a piece of shit whore who said pick up bbs and then made me mow the lawn fold all the clothes and pick up my toys at the foot of my bed when there aren't any fucking piece of shit toys"

I think I have theory of mind (the psychological concept of being able to be conscious of the fact that other people have independent thoughts), yet as I put myself in this person's shoes, I still want to wring his scrawny little neck. Forensic analysis of the writing clearly reveals that this person has a scrawny, wringable neck. Also, it makes me feel bad about myself that I've written a public violence fantasy about someone who is clearly only 10 years old.

"my boyfriend of two years broke up with me. for a girl on face book. on my friends list."

This person clearly doesn't understand context. I don't think I've interacted with a human being today that didn't possess a facebook account. If you want me to revel in your abandonment, please tell me that they met on facebook because they were both fans of "Homework Sucks." Forensic analysis of the writing tells me that she was way too suffocating the past years, her meddling impeding his ability to perform on the PSATs.

"Today, the elevator broke in my dorm, and wont be fixed for another week. I live on the 26th floor. FML"

Forensic analysis of this writing sample clearly shows that the author is obese, the social group that draws the least amount of pity.

"Today, I found out that the guy I've been crushing on is my long lost uncle. Fml"

This person's problem is a problem of information. Most of society's problems are caused by having too much information. Like microscopic shrimp in the tap water, this issue could have easily been avoided with ignorance.

"Today I was walking home from work and i got rob. The robber comes up to mr and say you are going to get rob now. Well than he robs me. FML"

I kind of feel bad reveling in this individual's misery because he clearly has been robbed of his ability to employ the English language successfully.

"Today, my girlfriend's best friend asked her if she would dump me for a free pizza, she did. FML"

I like pizza, too! Now after reading this submission I'm hungry and have no pizza. FML.

Random Meat Round Up #1.

Why even bother with an opening sentence? Let's salivate over this photo of a hot dog and revel in my heterosexuality.

I know what you're thinking, "A hot dog? How passé, Phineas! That culinary trend is so 2008!" To which I wouldn't respond, 'cause I'd probably just have a hot dog in my mouth. Anyway, the above photo is of the chihuahua dog from Crif Dogs. It's a hot dog wrapped in bacon and deep fried then topped off with avocado and sour cream. Yes, I had it after drinking. Yes, it was delicious. You should go there some time.


Oh, hello, ladies. Anyway, this is a bunch of delicious meat that Vince smoked on his manly barbecue for men that was hosted at Hibernia. The smoked brisket and ribs were delicious. Imagine the last time you had really good ribs. They were like that, but better. Also, Hibernia is a great bar for jerks that has surprisingly good bar food. They also changed the channel so I could watch the Tri-Nations which no one else really cares about.

If You Love It, Let It Go. Then Eat It.

Well, I thought to myself, "Wow, now that I have this fantastic new iPhone, I'll be able to take pictures of everything I eat and then post it straight to my blog!" But then it turned out the photos were kind of eh. So I posted 'em.

Anyway, Hearth is doing this fantastic weekly pig roast this summer (and if you act quick, you can eat this post, too). I went with the gang, and, well, why don't I show you what went down.

The first course consisted of a frisée salad with gorgonzola, fried shallots, and a warm bacon vinaigrette. What made this salad so amazing? The fact that it didn't feel arbitrary like most salads. Gorgonzola was the perfect complement to the bacon vinaigrette (where can I acquire bacon vinegar?).


Next appetizer was pork terrine avec pickled vegetables served with a delightful mustard. This might have been the only dish I'd dub "okay, I guess. I'm still gonna eat it." However, the house mustard was fantastic and after a liberal application, the terrine went down delightfully.

The main course was roast suckling pig served with cannelini beans. How can I convey with words the most delicious suckling pig I've ever had? The meat was tender, the skin enhancing its fatty goodness, baby pig teasing your tastebuds like a drunk seventeen year old. It was served with a swiss chard (not pictured) cooked with cream, bread crumbs, and flavor. It made me appreciate vegetables more (probably 'cause of the cream).

Oh, what's up, fruit pie? The first sweet pie to be featured on SSRIs & Rhubarb Pies! The crust was flaky, the pie's sweetness stemming from the not overly-sugared fruit and creamy vanilla ice cream.

If you do end up going to the pig roast, and I highly recommend it, skip the wine and/or beer pairing. The beer pairing was two bottles of Brooklyn Brewery's more forgettable brews (but a palatable dessert cider). The wine was decent, but I also don't understand wine and won't make any effort to.

Also, where can I get me one of those sweet cameras with depth of field?

A Good Decade.

Sometimes I think I can just post an image, doff my hat, and announce to the world, "Lo and behold, I am Phineas and this is my image. I have dug through the bazaar of detritus that is the internet and brought you back a JPEG made of silk and sewn with diamonds."


Sure, I could point out some of the finer, more subtle details of this image for you to find, but that wouldn't be fun, would it? Being a 90's jerk was all about riding your motorcycle in a playground. A 21st century jerk needs newer tools, greater than revving your engine and getting exhaust in the lungs of developing children. I don't have these answers, yet, but I'm working on it.

Hmm, this post seems surprisingly devoid of meaning. What can I do about that?


Here's a low quality photo of some fantastic chicken wings that Vince made using magic dust and coated with a generous layer of sweet and sticky barbecue sauce. I asked Vince politely for the recipe which he obliged. After employing an internet search engine, I believe I can safely blow up his spot since he used a Rachael Ray recipe (not that there's anything wrong with that). It was a fantastic combination of spices and flavors and I cannot recommend this particular rub enough.

Gage Across New York.

Oh, hell yeah.


It's nice to meet you, friend.

Eating My Way Through Koreatown.

So, before I write anything, here's a picture I took of something I ate:


It may not be obvious from looking at this enchantress, but what we have here is a genuine squid stuffed with pork. It's kind of hard for me to come up with a caption for this picture, because the concept is an apex in and of itself. Clearly breeding squids with pigs was the greatest act of animal husbandry ever.

Anyway, this is from Pocha 32 in Koreatown. It's one of those hole-in-the-wall places where you and your white friends aren't really welcomed. In fact, when I was there, our table was the only one with Caucasians. However, the food is fantastic and I wish instead of going to work tomorrow I was just going to Pocha 32 to eat. All day. Stopping only to write about it on the internet. What's that, you want some ambiance?


I've never been to a dive bar in Korea, and chances are I never will, but something tells me this might be what one is like. The ceiling is covered with dorm-room chic Christmas lights nestled between a wealth of fungible soju caps. In my extensive research for this blog post, I learned of a Korean toast, mashi-go chuk-ja, which translates to "let's drink and die."


Well, if it isn't a blurry photo of budae jjigae! This stew really is apparently a fantastic result of American military occupation. Its contents rest in a thin, yet forcefully flavorful and spicy broth. Pretty much everything is included: ramen noodles, rotelli, spam, hot dogs, pork, rice cakes, kimchi. Heck, it's even topped off with cheese. If that doesn't appeal to you in some way, chances are we can't be friends.

Blastin' Memes Execution Fashion.

There's a lot of sides to me. But primarily, there's the side that likes to eat and the side that likes to dislike things and antagonize them because other people like them. That being said, here are a list of revised facts about Chuck Norris:

• Whenever Chuck Norris goes over to his friends' houses, he always looks through their medicine cabinets.
• Every Friday night, Chuck Norris orders a whole large meat-lovers pizza from Papa Johns, eats it by himself, and spends the rest of the night crying in front of the mirror.
• Chuck Norris hits "reply all" on every single e-mail he receives. No matter what.
  
• Whenever he sees a homeless person, Chuck Norris keeps on walking, doesn't make eye contact, and pretends that they don't exist.
• Once Chuck Norris didn't have any clean towels when he got out of the shower, so he used a paper towel.
• Chuck Norris went to prom with his second cousin. He only got to first base.
• Despite a plethora of passive aggressive notes left by his roommates, Chuck Norris rarely washes his dishes and just waits for someone else to do them. When confronted in person, Chuck Norris denies ever having used the dishes before storming off to his room to post on his LiveJournal.
• This one time, Chuck Norris was broke and payday wasn't until next week, so he got drunk by drinking a bottle of Listerine he found under the sink.
• When Chuck Norris went to college, he once made out with another guy. He liked it, but was so ashamed of having anyone find out that he unfriended the guy on facebook and ignored him at parties. Today he manifests his suppressed desires by vehemently opposing gay marriage.
• Chuck Norris once told his mother that he was sick and couldn't attend her birthday party, but he really was just playing World of Warcraft and didn't want to go.
• Chuck Norris takes cups from home to fast food restaurants so he can fill them up at the soda fountain without paying.
• Whenever the check comes at a restaurant, Chuck Norris always says that he forgot his wallet at home and asks for his friends to spot him.
  
• Chuck Norris' girlfriend told him that she was pregnant, so he dumped her.

Hopefully these facts have shed some new light on an old, busted meme.

The Perils of Science.

So, I just learned about this study by Wansink, Painter, & North (2005) called Bottomless bowls: why visual cues of portion size may influence intake. They inferred that people who had soup from self-refilling bowls ate more than people who had soup refilled manually. Despite having the same access to soup, the people who ate from self-refilling bowls consumed more.

This raises an extremely interesting questions regarding portion control and visual cues. Where the hell is my god damn self-refilling bowl? It's been in the 2000's for the longest time and here I am like a common chump refilling my own bowl of soup. How come science invents these devices for the sole purpose of making us feel bad and not distributing them to the masses who are in desperate need of infinite soup?

I call for a boycott of all science.

Law & Order: Criminal Intent to Eat.

One of the problems I have with this blog is that I never end up taking photos of some of the very delicious things that I eat. Which is a shame, because some things I put in my mouth should be photographed beforehand. But, alas, let's see what we have here on this here internet ...


So, a group of gentlemen-bros and I went to this restaurant called S'Mac in the East Village which specializes in homonyms and macaroni and cheese. Of course, to make things novel, they offer all kinds of delightful takes on the classic. I dabbled in a buffalo chicken macaroni and cheese. It was covered in breadcrumbs and bleu cheese. If you like macaroni and cheese and buffalo chicken, chances are you'll love it. If you don't like either of those things, chances are we aren't friends.


What can I say about Papaya Dog? It's cheap, easy, and delicious (like my ex-girlfriend! Ho ho! Which one?!). The dogs have that perfect crispy casing and they're always cooked just right on that fantastically sketchy grill. Plus, you can't go wrong with papaya drink. Ever.

Wheelin' and Dealin' and Eatin'.

Let me regale you with a tale of my delicious adventures. The other evening I had two delightful, notable delicacies.


The first notable thing that I put in my mouth was a bacon martini. Now, I know what you're thinking. "A bacon martini? That's got to be the greatest idea that anyone's ever had in the history of martinis." And you'd be right. However, unlike the image above, my bacon martini was served with a Slim Jim garnish.


Then after the bacon martini, I finished my evening with a delightful meat pie. Now, I know that this blog is named after a sweet pie. However, meat pies are winning me over for my pie of choice. Alas, choosing between sweet pies and savory pies is akin to Sophie's Choice. Except this choice is more poignant.

Flirting with Vegetarianism.

About six years ago, I made a bet with one of my friends that if she could stop smoking for a month, I could be a vegetarian for a month. I ended up depriving myself of meat for a month where she just lied and told me she stopped smoking. I've never trusted anyone since.

Let me now share with you some of the more lovely things to come out of vegetarianism that I've discovered.



The above image is of a dish called poutine. It's a regional delight of French Canada and it's delicious. Basically, it consists of french fries (or as they say in French Canadian, pommes frites) covered with mozzarella curds and brown gravy. It's traditionally served with a diet soda (to prove you are watching your caloric intake). What makes poutine different from disco fries? I'm not sure, one is in French.

There are plenty of options available to people who are looking to cut meat out of their diet for health reasons. I look forward to exploring many more culinary options with you all.