Remembering the "Kitchen of the Future"

Out of the corner of his eye, he spied a comely young lass at the dairy case, pondering the implications of hydrogenated vegetable fats. Her saunter-hither gaze beckoned him, and he knew that she and her margarine must, at any cost, be his for the conquest...

Those of you who enjoyed Fluffy Mackerel Pudding will no doubt find this hilarious. I ran across the companion website to James Lileks' coffee table masterpiece, The Gallery of Regrettable Foods, which mines the ironic humor of the post-war food technology boom. It's as much a parody of the photography and illustration of the time as it is of the food itself. Check it out next time you're in the mood for some snarky commentary (just make sure the boss ain't lookin'). A few more pre-Photoshop era images for your perusal:





On a side note, I'd like to give a congratulatory shout out to local weirdo-country-rockers Blitzen Trapper for nailing down today's NPR Song of the Day. Check it out here. Huzzah to you, Blitzen Trapper!

They're Made Out of Meat!

This rather amusing and cleverly noir-ish commentary on our species, an adaptation of Terry Bisson's 1991 short story/play of the same name, has been kicking around the internet for a little while now. I just ran across it the other day and figured some of you might get a laugh out of it. Ben Bailey's facial expressions are priceless. This even won the Grand Prize in 2006 at EMP's Science Fiction Museum Film Festival in Seattle, so it comes vetted for your viewing enjoyment...

A Brief History of Recent Global Conflict...

...As told by the foods of the various nations and cultures involved. This was put together by animator Stefan Nadelman and his minions at Tourist Pictures, the very same folks responsible for Menomena's Evil Bee video. Kinda funny, kinda disturbing, oddly mesmerizing.

Cheesehenge!

It's a chemically produced cracker, slathered with chemically propelled Easy Cheese and topped with chemically colored Goldfish! It is so nefarious, so contemptible, such an utter affront to that which has sustained humanity throughout its history which we call food, that it could only have been conceived in the debaucherous, dante-esque netherworld that was Abby J's going away party. It is, in short, pure Evil.

But damn, that shit was tasty!

Of course, now that Abby has been immortalized (and her fledgling jewelry business shamelessly promoted) on my blog, it should be noted that she will not be allowed back within the city limits of Portland unless she has a snow globe, and perhaps a recipe or two, from southeast Asia to present to your humble author upon her return...

Arise and Simpsonize!!!

According to a Burger King internet marketing tool, this is basically what I would look like as a Simpsons character. It's a frighteningly accurate likeness, actually... Try it yourself the next time you feel like goofing off at work.

By the time you read this, somewhere on the Internet there's a photo of me naked...

I headed out this evening, shortly after ten, to a party here in the neighborhood, at the apartment of a pastry chef who works at a somewhat prominent Portland restaurant. Now this particular pastry chef has been burned by food bloggers before, and as such I think it only appropriate to protect her idenity. So we'll call her Ingrid. My friends John the Irishman and Jon the Architect met Ingrid at the Bonfire a couple nights ago, and invited me along to her party. I figured this would be interesting, as I'm into food and all. But I ultimately let her off the hook. I don't really like to talk to people at parties about sleep disorders, so I figured, why make her talk shop? Ingrid was a very cool gal. She reminded me a little of my friend Char, and I must say, she had a very sexy Bettie Page thing going on... She was also a great hostess, and turned out, interestingly, to be a collector of tattoos, bowling trophies and weird squirrel memorabilia. And she offered me some very interesting Guatemalan rum called Zaya. I'm not much for the hard liquor, I mostly stick to beer. But this was pretty good. Very sweet, with a pronounced smoky caramel flavor.

Now I could have stayed at this party for the rest of the night and had a very good time. But I had bigger fish to fry. At about 11:35, I got on my bike and headed about 25 blocks west, to the Organics to You warehouse, the jumping off point for Portland's installment of the World Naked Bike Ride. By the time I got there, the ride was about ten minutes away, and the pre-ride dance party had spilled out onto the street. The police escort (yes, that's right, in Portland the Police don't arrest naked bike riders, they give them an escort!) was in place, and a number of folks were already naked. I leaned my bike up against an adjacent building, set down my messenger bag, and proceeded to stuff every stitch of clothing I was wearing into it. Now clad in the proverbial birthday suit, I mounted my steed and waited for the insanity to begin.

The ride was actually a bit longer than I expected (Over the course of the ride, we must have passed every bar in town; and every one of those bar patrons was out on the sidewalk with a camera phone...). We crossed the Hawthorne bridge into downtown, rode up into the Pearl District, came back into downtown, headed up into Old Town, back to the Pearl and on up to Northwest, riding up 21st and coming back down 23rd. From there we rode along Burnside, hung a ralphie on 3rd and crossed back over the Hawthorne bridge. But we didn't stop at the starting point. The ride proceeded up Hawthorne. I bailed at Hawthorne and 18th. At this point I'd been riding for about an hour. It was cold (yes, there was some, uh, "shrinkage," but we won't get into that here...), and I kind of wanted to get back to Ingrid's party. And Hawthorne and 18th is near my house, so it made for a good exit point. I put my clothes back on, called my friends to make sure they were still at the party (they were), dropped my bike off at the house, got in my car and made my way back to Ingrid's. On my way, I passed some of the riders coming the other way on Belmont street. I honked. They raised their fists and shrieked like banshees. I knew, REALLY knew, just how much fun they were having (and just how cold they were).

And that's ultimately why I chose to do this: It was fun! Idiot fun! Mental patient fun! The kind of fun you can only get from totally breaking free of your everyday routine... My friends all think I'm nuts (they're right, of course). Jon the architect was on the fence, and has promised that he'll do it next year. My friend Ole was also a "definite maybe." And Jenni was pretty into the idea, but ultimately wound up staying home with her ailing cat (hang on just a little longer, Nichiro!). Portland, incidentally, has for the last few years had the highest turnout in North America for this event. Last year we had 500 riders, and this year the estimate was 700. It was hard to judge the number of riders exactly, but 700 definitely seems plausible.

I am so glad I live in this crazy town! I'm hoping to see a few of you at next year's ride!

Grocery shopping, squirrel style

This was just way too funny to ignore. Here we see one of the squirrels that live in the roof over the porch of the house next door. We'll call him Clyde. Clyde's been out foraging for edibles, and it appears he's found himself a nice chunk of crusty, artisanal bread. From the looks of it, I would guess that it's the Country Blonde pain au levain from Ken's Artisan Breads, which is made with a blend of organic white, whole wheat, whole rye and spelt flours. An excellent table bread, it's also ideal for sandwiches and toast. Very nice choice, Clyde! The only problem is...






...it's too big to fit through the front door! We've all had this problem, of course, but it usually involves a couch. I've just checked on Clyde's progress, and it looks like he finally got it in as I've been writing this. Nice work, Clyde! Your efforts will be rewarded with a tasty feast indeed!