[A]nyone who has gotten a Subway sandwich knows most Subways layer their isosceles-cut cheese in an overlapping fashion. This means one side of the sandwich gets more cheese than the other and leaves pockets of zero cheese, resulting in a uneven flavor and texture distribution.
Consumerist, always pushing for corporate responsibility. The real question is—how has Andy Rooney not done a segment on this topic???
A pesky little grain.
Former GoGo, permanent rock star Kathy Valentine on quinoa.
While a three-hour rise yields a crust that has the pasty pallor of raw flour, the caramelized sugars from an overnight rise give the cornicione, or edge, a color that goes from golden brown to the deep bronze of a ’70s tan.
Oliver Strand, on his pizza ala George Hamilton, in the Times.
No matter what kind of crap life throws at you, it can’t take away the awesomeness of your first of the season pea harvest!
The moral of the story is don’t go to the Indiana State Fair if you don’t like death-inducing food and having to wrestle your way through a mass of morbidly obese people who have gorged themselves on said food.
A lovely commenter on the kitchn’s post about butter spreaders.
He couldn’t eat toast because the bread was not rye. Pastries produced such an involuntary shudder that he might have been witness to a particularly gruesome crime scene. He would only consent to the yogurt on the strict condition he could add berries. And the (perfectly fine) hotel coffee was rejected, so after much research an assistant was dispatched to a coffee house as “Rene only allows himself caffeine once a day and it has to be the best”. If this is breakfast, lunch must be like the hundred year war.
Farming, even small scale local farming, is not the bucolic utopia that critics of the modern food system like to imagine
Farmer Blake Hurst, in an interesting roundtable about whether the government should subsidize localized food production in the Times.
I’m not waltzing romantically through the farmer’s market. I don’t have time to do any of that shit.
Chef Dennis Leary (not that one; another one, apparently), in the SF Weekly
This avid, and delicious, little oceanic predator was served with a romesco sauce and a scattering of dried black olives that imparted a briny flavor totally unexpected and yet spot on.
