A thing that most of you may not know is why my blog is called The Pizzle. While “pizzle” is a fun word to say, it is also a culinary delight. The word “pizzle” is actually the term to describe the penis of an animal. Apparently, according to this Wikipedia article, the term “pizzle” is most commonly used in Australia and New… Read more →
Ever since I juiced sausage with a hand press for The Chicago Italian Beef Combo Bloody Mary, aka Coach Juice, I’ve been fascinated with the idea of juicing. The result for the Bloody Mary was excellent, and I got a nice beautiful sip of sausage juice out of an Italian sausage. Who knew I would love drinking sausage juice so much? You guys… Read more →
Last week, my friend Melissa showed me a picture of a cooking device called the Rollie® Eggmaster Vertical Grill. It’s one of those “As Seen on TV” products. Basically, it’s designed to cook eggs in a tubular form for an easy on-the-go egg eating experience. Apparently eating and cooking eggs is a very difficult endeavor for many people. Plus, when you’re eating… Read more →
I was out shopping for an Easy Bake Oven one day when I stumbled upon a cookbook, called Quick & Easy Dump Cakes. It’s by a lady named Cathy Mitchell. Many friends on Facebook and on Twitter have been regularly sending me photos of this book. It says a lot about my childish adult life that at least four people thought I should… Read more →
Sometimes, we all hit rock bottom. Turns out, based off the things I’ve eaten and documented on this blog, I’ve been at the bottom for a while. For example: Let’s say you’re wandering around, drunk, after a night out on the town. All the late-night restaurants have already closed, the streets drained of all signs of life except for the occasional… Read more →
As we inch towards spring, a marvelous event occurs every year, bringing a holy creation back from the dead. It rises from the cave that it has been buried in, killed by people who claimed they loved it and needed it. With its yearly return, angels sing its praises. This story may sound familiar to many of you. And as it… Read more →
First of all, Happy Valentine’s Day! And to me, and all y’all single people — I wish you a wonderful self-loving day of loneliness. So Fappy Valentine’s Day to you, good single people of planet Earth. Know you’re not alone. Here’s a video I made one year ago to celebrate my loneliness on Valentine’s Day. I swear, I’m working on… Read more →
Call me a sap, but I have a soft spot for Valentine’s Day. Before everyone goes into a tirade about how Valentine’s Day is some bullshit made-up holiday by Hallmark and card companies, it’s really an ancient holiday. The romantic part started during the High Middle Ages, supposedly having something to do with Geoffrey Chaucer. But right now none of… Read more →
My awesome coworker Alicia recently sent me a link about Purina Fancy Feast on Eater. You can read the fun stuff here. Apparently, Fancy Feast is Top Chef: All Stars Richard Blais’ favorite cat food, because he endorses it. Nothing screams Top Chef like cat food, which is food that (most) humans don’t even eat. And of course, I suddenly got struck by… Read more →
I’ve mentioned it before, but I don’t generally watch much football. You may not believe me because my last recipe was The Chicago Italian Beef Combo Bloody Mary, aka Coach Juice, which is simply a dumb coincidence. But, every year, I do go to Superbowl parties because if I don’t, I’ll spend that Sunday as I do most Sundays, which… Read more →
I saw Mike Ditka in person once. Years ago, my mom and I were in the car together, running errands. On our way back home, we were sitting behind a bunch of people at a stop sign, stuck for no apparent reason. The guy way ahead of us was trying to turn left at a no-left-turn intersection, and he was blocking traffic.… Read more →
I’ve been sick, so I haven’t had time to create mischief this week. My appetite has finally come back. But I still have plenty of food-related stories and advice to share, so stick with me. I’m going to start with a disclaimer: This story is gross. Real gross. It involves butt stuff. But there is a purpose to it, because… Read more →
Happy New Year, bitches! Welcome to 2015. Let’s hope it’s a little better than 2014. The first post I have on tap is twofold, with items totally unrelated to each other, but both fall into the category I like to call, “What the fuck?” One: White Castle is now offering veggie burgers. What the fuck? Two: Coca-Cola is launching a milk… Read more →
As you guys have probably figured out by now, I’m fascinated by processed and preserved food. There’s something about the idea of food being edible for insane periods of time that is interesting to me. It’s like…zombie food, food that’s still alive after it should be dead. And I’m not necessarily talking about shelf-stable junk food like boring old crackers, either.… 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 →
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 →
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.
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.