It’s arguably the greatest LP gatefold image of all time: the drool-inducing food porn Mexican spread from the inner fold of ZZ Top’s 1973 Tres Hombres album. Only Coven’s Witchcraft Destroys Minds & Reap Souls comes close to matching it’s exemplary use of the medium, but as far as gatefold images go, it’s hard to top THE TOP.
In what is destined to be the the greatest short film of 2016, Austin chef Thomas Micklethwait lovingly re-creates this enviable meal and proceeds to eat the shit out of it.
As someone who has often dreamt of being at that fabled table, all I can say is kudos to the chef for allowing me to live vicariously through him and yet not have to experience the following day’s Afterburner tribute.
You’ve all probably read by now that Newark Airport is about to open a branded CBGB restaurant. The menu has typical bar food fare (maybe a cut above) and presumably has typical airport pricing for comestibles; the existence of a $42 prime rib on the menu should tell most of what you need to know. The joint will be called the CBGB L.A.B. (Lounge and Bar) and will serve “American fare in a fun environment recalling the legendary music venue.” The chef is Harold Moore, who according to Rolling Stone “runs the comparatively upscale New York City eatery Commerce,” but Commerce closed last July.
The menu includes an item “Harold’s World Famous Chili,” which Rolling Stone inexplicably regards as a “nod” to Hilly’s Chili, which, given that the name “Hilly” stood for Hillel and not Harold, seems like a stretch. On the subject of Hilly’s Chili I shall allow Binky Philips, of the Planets, who opened for the Ramones at CBGB’s, to elucidate you in this excerpt from his ebook My Life in the Ghost of Planets: The Story of a CBGB Almost-Was ($1.99 Kindle):
Back then, the older folkie fella, who turned out to be the owner, Hilly Kristal, was serving food. I tried the burger first. Wow, pretty good! A week later, I decided to try “Hilly’s Chili.” It was fantastic! In fact, it was so good, I walked back to the kitchen to tell Hilly how much I liked it. He was standing there, in his red plaid wool coat, slowly stirring an industrial sized pot of the chili as if in a trance. And, with Hilly obviously oblivious, about a foot behind his right boot was a fresh and wet pile of dog shit, about the size and shape of half a cantaloupe.
Here’s a shiny, happy facsimile of the familiar awning:
Several months ago, eagle-eyed Twitter user Proof of Use spotted this suggestive bit of legal gobbledygook involving the “usable nonuse explanation” of the lawful paths open to the undisclosed holding company that owns the rights to the CBGB’s name in the wake of the passing of Hilly Kristal.
Upon information and belief, use of the registered mark in connection with the registered services ceased approximately 7 years ago, contemporaneous with the death of Hilly Kristal, the founder of the famous CBGB club in the lower Manhattan. On May 21, 2012, registrant acquired the registered mark from the estate of Mr. Kristal, and during the ensuing period the mark has not yet been used by the registrant in connection with the registered services. The registrant has, however, been working with OTG Management to create a CBGB-branded restaurant and bar in the United Airlines terminal—Terminal C—in Newark Liberty Airport. ... there is currently a space in the terminal reserved for a CBGB restaurant and bar. ... the registrant anticipates that the mark will be back in use in U.S. commerce in connection with the registered services in 2015.
The reader will notice that they just came in under the wire, as being in the news during the calendar year 2015 as an operating entity. I don’t know the details, but I’d bet anything that the holding company is required or heavily incentivized to have the CBGB trademark put to use before a certain set number of years had elapsed or they would lose it.
Here’s Gothamist’s final word on the subject: “We hear it may be opening by the end of the year.” Exactly. That’s not a coincidence, goes my wager.
This restaurant was probably just going to be called L.A.B at one point. I mean why Newark airport of all places for a CBGB-themed eatery? And as anyone who ever stepped foot in the joint can tell you, “germy” would be one of the very first words that would come to mind to describe CBs. The last time I was at CBGBs someone had kicked the urinal off the wall and the toilet was overflowing. Not pretty. As for eating there? This only makes sense in the context of a “use it or lose it” trademark extension.
But just when you’re thinking what a fucking lame idea this is, here’s something even worse: In 1991, future jailed pedophile and rapist Gary Glitter, once one of Britain’s most beloved entertainers, now a figure of public hate, opened The Glitter Bar in London’s Piccadilly Circus (which is some prime real estate, obviously). All of the waitresses were 12-year-old Vietnamese girls in lingerie (okay I just made that last bit up). Here’s footage of “the Leader of the Snacks” at the restaurant’s opening. At about seven minutes in, Glitter shows up and bumps and grinds to his own music, stuffed into his 70s stage clothes like a noncey sausage.
Mercifully the Glitter Bar closed just a few years later, not long before Glitter infamously took his computer full of kiddie porn to be repaired.
The mission statement of the person or persons behind Bread Face is “giving the people something they didn’t ask for.” So they started an Instagram in which a woman smushes her face into various types of bread. Mission accomplished!
That’s right, there are 15 posts, and every one is a little video of this one woman smushing her face into cornbread, King’s Hawaiian Sweet Rolls, naan bread, and so on. While she does it, a recent R&B hit plays in the background.
This is one of the best holiday bread/cake recipes I’ve ever seen! A spiced-filled Dune sandworm!
Now, I haven’t made this sucker yet—so I don’t know what it tastes like—but I fully intend to test my culinary skills this weekend and try this worm out.
I don’t know how many people would watch David Lynch’s take on Dune and see something yummy when the grotesque sandworms are onscreen, but Chris-Rachael Oseland over at The Kitchen Overlord came up with this brilliant-looking recipe. “The final result is even more delicious than it looks. Now, you too can make a proud, impressive, spice-scented Great Maker of Arrakis,” she writes. I believe her.
FYI, there are pretty detailed steps to follow at The Kitchen Overlord for your edible Dune sandworm. Here are the ingredients to get your tasting buds salivating:
Spice-Filled Sandworm Bread
1 1/2 cups warm water
2 tbsp yeast
1/2 cup brown sugar
1 tsp vanilla
1 tbsp cinnamon
¼ cup slightly cooled melted butter
2 tsp salt
6 ½ – 7 cups bread flour
2 tbsp garam masala (or pumpkin pie spice, or Chinese five spice powder, by preference)
2 tsp cinnamon
3/4 cup brown sugar (or 1/2 cup brown sugar and 1/4 cup white sugar if you want it less sticky)
1/4 cup melted butter
sliced blanched almonds
1/2 cup raisins (optional)
3/4 cup powdered sugar
¼ cup water
1 tsp cinnamon or garam masala
1 tsp vanilla extract
Now that I’ve hopefully piqued your interests with the ingredients, please follow the step-by-step cooking instructions that you’ll find here.
Of the 14,000+ McDonald’s franchises in the United States only 8,000 of them carry The McRib sandwich. Your chances of finding a McRib are about 55%. And that’s freaking some people out. So much so that there’s a McRib Locator on the Internet that “was created to help McRib fans locate this tasty yet elusive sandwich.” Apparently, a shitload of folks are hankering for a slab of pig guts tossed with yoga mats, 70 additives, chemicals, fillers, and GMO ingredients all held together by glue and slathered in barbecue sauce that tastes like liquid diabetes.
When it comes to the McRib, sometimes you just gotta make a stand. Strip clubs too. Donald Trump has been strangely silent on these subjects. Not so the fine folk of Santa Clarita, California.
Santa Clarita is the third largest city in Los Angeles County so you’d figure that the city council would be up to their elbows in all kinds of important civic issues. But who is to judge what is important and what is not? This is a democracy gawdammit! So at most city council meetings there’s a period for public comment on any topic… as you will see.
In the following video two Santa Claritians (?) address the council on two pressing matters very near and dear to their hearts: strip clubs and the McRib sandwich. The first one up is a guy who looks like the love child of an overstuffed scarecrow and The Cure’s Robert Smith - a lap dancer’s equivalent of a hard day at the office. But he’s merely the opening act for the pink-haired goofball up next. You can feel the young woman’s pain as she laments that the nearest MaCrib was “seen” 350 miles north of Santa Clarita in the Bay Area. She looks like she’s about to cry over the anguish that it’s caused her poor family, not to mention the Santa Clarita “foodie community” who she claims to represent. Can’t the Mayor call up McDonald’s and DO SOMETHING ABOUT THIS???
Update: Okay here’s the scoop. I hate to be the guy to blow the cover off a great prank, but according to our super secret source, the “foodie” with the Manic Panik dye-job is fledgling comedian Xanthe Pajarillo . She’s pulled off an ingenious stunt. Had us fooled. She’s definitely got a future in comedy and that future is now. So who’s the dude? Robert Benjamin. Another comic. Brilliant guys, brilliant.
The Service Industry’s homage to the McRib “Liquid Meat (Into A Form).”
Like William Burroughs’ “Thanksgiving Prayer,” this “Cthurkey” rears its head every holiday season. It’s almost criminal that we’ve never blogged about it here on Dangerous Minds, so I thought I’d correct that egregious oversight.
Now some of you may have probably already seen the Lovecraftian Cthurkey before. If not, it’s sort of a pisstake of the Turducken and the Pumpple. If you don’t know what these are I’ve supplied links for each dish. But in short, it’s food within food. Kinda like “foodception.”
The Cthurkey consists of a turkey stuffed with octopus, crab and sing—what else—bacon as its topping. I can’t think of anything more fitting for an H. P. Lovecraft-themed Thanksgiving.
Our Philadelphian readers may know PYT, home of insanely gimmicky culinary constructions like the Deep-Fried Twinkie Burger, Chicken Bacon Eggo Sliders, and the Cocoa Krispies Chicken Burger. That restaurant has expanded to New York, specifically to 334 Bowery, former home of one location of Forcella Pizzeria, and more recently, the extremely short-lived Espoleta. Though rents in the city’s one-time Skid Row are no longer Skid Row cheap, PYT surely has no desire to be yet another bygone in that location, and they may have hit upon their rent-making gimmick: The Basquiat Prime Beef Burger, named for the great painter Jean-Michel Basquiat and priced at $64. Each. Look, I’m a total sucker for gimmicky sandwich places; whether it’s Kuma’s in Chicago, Melt in Cleveland, whatever, I’m all in for ridiculous shit like that. But I doubt I need to belabor the point that $64 for a burger seems beyond excessive even for Manhattan.
A 1982 Basquiat work, Untitled (The Black Athlete), just sold for 6.3 million, meaning that the Basiquiat burger is just a buck off from being 100,000 times less expensive than an actual Basquiat painting. And arguably, the figure in the painting could be interpreted as triumphantly brandishing a burger. Arguably. Very, very arguably.
But what do you get for your money? Per the restaurant’s tumblr, it’s made with “100% fresh 25% fat Wagyu Ribeye sourced from the NYC’s greatest Wagyu source, the ninjas at Japan Premium Beef.” OK, then, in that case I suppose we’ll generously take it on faith that that tastes $50 better than a regular upscale burger. The sandwich came to be named for the painter, not because it looks like his work, after the manner of the offerings at SFMOMA’s rooftop coffee bar—though I’d actually respect the hell out of that, and I find it curious that photos of the actual burger seem like they’re nowhere to be found online. (How is it possible that nobody’s Instagramed their $64 burger?) The sandwich is so named because the painter died of a heroin overdose literally around the corner on Great Jones Street. If any DM readers in Lower Manhattan are feeling lavish enough to take this one for the team and try one, we’d love to know if it’s worth the money, or at least if it’s a fit tribute to the artist. We’re guessing no way in hell on both counts, but we’re willing to listen.
Ever wanted to be a sexy green turd for Halloween? Never fear for Halloween Costumes has you covered. Clearly it’s poking fun at Burger King’s limited edition “Halloween Whopper” which apparently is making some folks poop green.
BUT wait, there’s more! Not only is there a sexy turd outfit, there’s also the Burger King’s black “goth burger” costume to boot! (Unless the turd was actually standing beside the goth burger, I’m not so sure I would get the joke. Solo, I’d peg the turd for “sexy asparagus” cosplay.)
I’m still holding out for the sexy Kim Davis costume.