Rush hour or not, I daresay the L train is probably the least likely place I’d want to participate in (a) eating and (b) a showy NYT-covered stunt. But they did one, and it looks like I’m not alone in thinking it wasn’t a great idea:
There was no sign of the police or even a conductor, but officials at the Metropolitan Transportation Authority, reached on Monday, were not amused. “A dinner party on the L train?” said Charles F. Seaton, a spokesman for the authority. “No. Subway trains are for riding, not for holding parties.”
If you have had the pleasure of living off the L train in the past 5 years, you’ve also had the pleasure of experiencing Williamsburg’s overpopulation problem’s finest side effect: not being able to get on the damn train. I would actually find it extremely funny to see what would happen to a party like this at 8:30am at Lorimer, but of course I love a good riot.
PS. I wonder what grade this would receive from the health department?
There is a tumblr simply entitled, Monkeys Eating Bacon. Oh. No. Oh no no no. Not the monkeys too!
I’ve been spending my morning reading the tumblr <15%, an informative, snarky, angry blog about being stiffed as a delivery guy. The funny thing is, people have been submitting feedback in droves and WOW, I had no idea my neighborhood + the neighboring neighborhood = complete asshats when it comes to tipping! No wonder the delivery guy always looks so pleased when I tip 30%!
The crowd goes wild for pan-seared ramps and garlic pastry puff concubine salad!
The NYT reports that sports bars are pulling out all the stops and providing highbrow, foodie-esque dining options:
The food is from-scratch, fresh and even locavore. Behold, then, the Springer Mountain free-range chicken from north Georgia proudly referenced on the menu of Dantanna’s Surf and Turf in the Buckhead neighborhood of Atlanta — along with Creekstone and Allen Brothers beef and Niman Ranch pork. Note the butternut squash bisque at the Hype Lounge, and that roasted brussels sprouts side at the Ainsworth, both in Manhattan. Then meditate on Emeril Lagasse’s steak BAM’Wich at his Lagasse’s Stadium in Las Vegas: grilled sirloin on herb focaccia dressed with blue-cheese slaw and balsamic-braised onions, served with truffle-Parmesan steak fries.
Most of this makes sense, yeah, ok – sports fans are foodies, etc. I love chicken wings and hot dogs and beer too. What I do *not* understand is the butternut squash bisque. I cannot possibly see how that sounds appealing to someone who is gearing up for a rowdy, athletic night. YEAH! WE’LL GET PITCHERS AND WINGS AND SOME FRIES! Then Lilith speaks up, “You mean frites. And I’ll just have the butternut squash bisque. Is that locally-sourced butternut squash by the way?”
My favorite quote:
Alert customers certainly appreciate the effort.
Because those that are passed out in the back? Not so much.
NPR reports on how the US is a little bit late to overhaul school lunches yesterday, and provides an awesome slideshow of who’s got what & where. (London’s makeover is extremely impressive)
I know I’m not alone in thinking this is fascinating.
Well, I was expecting a myriad of responses to be extremely porny, but some people really answered good-naturedly, such as ClareJay who said, “I took a quiche out of the freezer earlier. To be quite frank, she’ll just have to make do.” Or MrDrewy who said, “ANYTHING SHE WANTED!!!! PIZZA, HOT DOGS, CHILEAN MINERS ANYTHING!!!!!!” Enthusiasm. It’s really what’s for dinner. However, the best so far, in my opinion is: whoismatthew: “Haggis Nachos – whatever else?” Mmmm. Haggis nachos.
I think I’d have to make Ms. Minaj a Pepsi float. And the Pepsi would be borrowed from my roommate. As would the pistachio gelato that would be the ice cream portion of this concoction. Served in a hollowed out potato. Yum!
Grub Street New York reports on the latest opening in Williamsburg – Mable’s Smokehouse:
“There wasn’t a place in our neighborhood to find the food we grew up eating,” says Love. That food — borracho beans, Rotel-Velveeta dip, Luzianne sweet tea, hot links imported from Schwab’s in Oklahoma City, pulled-pork tamales, and, of course, pie — makes its debut in a suitably honky-tonk setting that the couple built themselves.
As an avid fan of Rotel & Velveeta, mixed together, drizzled over tortilla chips – I find this… to be… stupid. Of course Velveeta & Rotel isn’t served in restaurants – you make it at home and cry into it while wearing your pajamas and watching Ryan Gosling movies like any other self-respecting creep. Am I the only one irritated with this? I grew up eating Schwann’s pizzas – are they gonna trick them out for Williamsburgers too? What about celery with peanut butter in it? Bologna & mustard sandwiches (with the mustard drawn on in a smiley face)? No? Too far?
There’s no price listed for it on their menu, but it better be less than making it yourself. Also – you’re not fooling me with “housemade BBQ corn nuts.” I buy mine at 7-Eleven like the other toothless no-goods.
PS. Wonder Bread sucks