Fusion cuisine glues multiple types of ethnic food together and creates new dishes, merging the flavors of one region with another. One of the more popular things these days is smushing anything with Mexican food; Los Angeles has a famous fleet of trucks called Kogi (“kogi” is the Korean word for meat). They were the guys to put Mexican-Korean tacos on… Read more →
I have a really sad confession to make. I…haven’t been to New York City. I’m 33. I know, I need to go. A bunch of my friends live there and I miss every one of them. I’m a total penis. I’m still making up for time and (lots of) money since I was out of a job for about a… Read more →
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. There’s not many holidays that center only around eating, so enjoy the bounty of the turkey massacre! Also, enjoy this photo of Harvey chillin’ with his turkey ladies. Read more →
Ever since I got the Anova Precision Cooker, I’ve been fantasizing about all the cool things I could cook with it. So far I’ve cooked eggs, fish, and chicken. I’ve yet to do octopus, pork belly, steak, and chair leg, but that will come soon enough. I recently read a post on Epicurious by my Twitter pal, Josh Scherer of Culinary… Read more →
During the day I work as a Content Manager for a pretty cool dry ingredients company, meaning I get to fool around with food concepts all day. My coworkers and I obsess about food constantly, and lately we’ve been exploring the idea of ruining some of our favorite meals with blue cheese. We’ve been contemplating the concepts of blue cheese lasagna (hnngggh), blue… Read more →
When I was growing up, my sister and I were small and we didn’t eat very much. My parents were concerned, so they started sneaking extra food into things to get us to load up on calories. They mainly used American cheese to do this. One example includes Cream of Wheat, the ol’ breakfast staple made of farina — basically wheat gruel. Life is… Read more →
A few weeks back, I got a message from my good friend David. There was no text. All it had was a photo of a box. Here was my response: “I’m going to shit my pants. Where are you?” He replied, “Cermak Produce on North Ave. At least it’s reduced fat!” I texted him back. I said, “It’s like staring… Read more →
My roommate is a teacher in the Chicago Public School system. He happens to teach in the same school as his mother, who gave her class a special assignment. The assignment was to create a coat of arms, then to write an essay about the significance of the symbolism that the student included in the design. One of the students… Read more →
Growing up in a Korean-American household, pie wasn’t something I really ate. The pies I did eat were those little hand-pies from Hostess, which were always good — but I knew deep inside, in my secret place, that those Hostess pies weren’t actual pies. I mean, they were a strange approximation of pie, I could just tell, even when I… Read more →
Now that winter is around the corner, I’d like to go into an often overlooked genre of food. I like to call it “Depression Food.” I also like to call it, “Shit From the Can.” It’s exactly (well, almost) what it sounds like. Some may also call it, “Things Dennis Eats When He’s Drunk.” Or, much more accurately, “Reasons Why Dennis… Read more →
One night I went to the grocery store, alone as usual, wandering around, trying to find something to destroy my loneliness, because that’s how healthy people deal with sadness. They eat something disgusting. I heard the siren call of Hell come to me from the canned meat section, and I saw a tall can with an American homestyle red-white-and-blue color. It sang to me in a dead language, a language that disappeared from the face of this mortal coil with the fallen angels, as God struck them into Hell.
“Dennis,” said the can. “Fuck you.”
I looked at the can, reading its label carefully, as if I had unearthed an ancient artifact. Sweet Sue Canned Whole Chicken. I almost threw up. Then I bought it. Someone once said that there’s nothing more dangerous than a man with nothing to lose. Whoever said that is right.
Back at home, I sipped on bourbon while I contemplated the can. It was almost midnight. The room began to swim and suddenly a can opener appeared in my hand. I found myself reading the inscription on the back.
It read:
Remove chicken from the can. Be sure to save the delicious broth. Place chicken in an uncovered pan, baste well with some of the broth. Place in a hot oven, 475° for 10 to 15 minutes. Baste two or three times while heating. To prepare a delicious gravy, brown two tablespoons flour, mix in a cup of broth. Allow to thicken over burner until desired consistency. A delicious chicken soup may be prepared by adding rice, cooked noodles or dumplings to the broth.
Other Excellent Uses
Creamed chicken and mushrooms, chicken ala king, fricassee or serve cold just as chicken comes from the can.
CHILL BEFORE REMOVING FROM CAN
DO NOT HEAT IN CAN
I frowned. The can used the word “delicious” three times. It lacked the use of the Oxford Comma, telling me that there was something unholy about the entire inscription from The Ancients. It suggested I recreate a dead recipe, “Chicken ala King,” which sent shivers down my spine and into my cavernous ass.
Then I read the worst words of all: Serve cold just as chicken comes from the can.
I began cackling madly to myself as I repeated the words, “Chicken comes from the can.” I laughed and muttered, “Your mom comes from the can.”
My eyes grew dark and I followed the directions, summoning Hell with every excruciating turn of the can opener. I opened the can and I heard a strange noise, almost as if a very small child was shrieking. It was me.
I prepared the abomination as instructed. The madness inside me swirled like a maelstrom of chocolate pudding being dumped down a toilet.
The deed was completed. When I poked at it with a fork, the entire thing nearly disintegrated. I sampled a small morsel. It tasted like partially digested baby food, as it melted inexplicably in my mouth. I tried the “delicious gravy.” The “delicious gravy” tasted like a wet fart. I threw the entire thing into a sealed chamber (a tupperware container), and disposed of the entire thing.
Something inside me died that day and never, ever, came back. It was my dignity. All of it.
Happy Halloween!
Umami Burger, a burger chain from sunny Los Angeles, landed in Chicago in September. It’s just north of my neighborhood. I’ve been putting off going, since chain restaurants don’t usually give me a food boner. But I like the idea — their burgers (and the rest of their food) are loaded with umami flavor, which many people consider the fifth… Read more →
I woke up on one beautiful, shimmering summer morning and did it. I packed a few belongings, hopped into my car, and left. I don’t know where I thought I was headed. I just knew I wanted to go live out the lifelong fantasy of getting up and disappearing on a road trip without telling anyone. I remember thinking that… Read more →
I’m originally from the north suburbs of Chicago, and I’ve been living in the Ukrainian Village neighborhood for about a billion (ten) years now. And I think I was probably the last food nerd I know to go to the lonely-looking Calumet Fisheries on the 95th St bridge. Yes, it’s located on an actual bridge, which certainly makes it unique.… Read more →