The Korean Burger

I had a burger today that was mainly mayonnaise. The patty was like a sweaty piece of liver that had leaked mayo all over the other inhabitants of the bun. I felt like some sort of sick-freak sucking at a wet tissue as I tried to glomp the whole sloppy mess down my guzzler. I mean, I love mayonnaise. I basically have sex with Kewpie such is my desire for the white-demon. But this was crazy over the top. Like the amount of thigh this chubby woman was showing on the train this afternoon. Holy manatee oh the humanity!

Lets not fuck around. I respect the burger maker. He gave me the real deal. Obviously he was a fiend. Some kind of strung-out egg-jam chuzzlepot. He'd worked himself up to a high level of tolerance. His liver was producing enough bile each day to rip and disperse fat like some sort of NASA grade detergent. I mean, his gall-bladder was the size of a blood orange. I could see a lump in his polo-shirt just south and to the right of his belly button. The guy was chasing 'clag-clag' harder than any man I've ever seen (this includes dead men). He thought I could hack it.

He thought I could take that eggy-jizz and digest. But I'm only used to small binges. I'm not a lifer. Just smash it every now and again when there's nothing else going. I couldn't take it. It made me feel like my organs were going to grease out of me in one foul schlooooop. I could feel small clouds of clag puffing themselves around my heart. I was fucked.

Do you know what really irks me? Grinds my gears? Puts sand in the chain of my Malvern Star? Rams fistful of yeast in my eyes?

Kids that say that they love cooking and then proceed to serve you a meal that's main constituent is a packet of powdered puke dust. "I make an excellent alfredo pasta" they say and then proceed to mix a packet of industrial cheese cement. It's not cooking! It's more like a hands-on tafe assignment in constipation.

Take this recipe for example from the ever reliable Yahoo!7
Chicken Alfredo Pasta
2 teaspoons polyunsaturated oil
500g skinless chicken breast fillet, sliced
3/4 cup (190mL) reduced fat milk
1 1/2 cups (375mL) water
1 packet Continental Alfredo Pasta & Sauce, Family Pack

What the fuckness? That's basically cheese glue and chicken boobs. That's no way to get laid!

I mean, I haven't witnessed this faux cooking for a couple of years really. It's more of a 'I've just moved out of home, I'm 19, I drink Carlton Cold' condition.

You know what else I dislike? Miss Mauds.
I've only eaten there once about a million years ago (BC) with my grandmother and it was a coleslaw/princess cake/ sweet coffee/ cold meat unfulfilling and cold experience. What makes even less appealing is the clientele. They're shoveling lumps of custardy cake into their trout mouths and gargling back flat whites with seven sugars. Then they probably fart all the way home in their banged out barinas.

Actually, they're probably nice human beings. I'm a dick

Gastro In Digest

There's this site on the net where you can read reviews of most of the restaurants in your state. One time when I had a job I sat in front of the computer for a few hours and flicked through endless pages of crappy reviews while drinking watery filter coffee. It quickly became apparent that most reviews were either submitted by complete douchebags or dudes called "Ron" who have a penchant for steak. Actually, almost all the reviewers talk about steak. "I ordered the steak/ we had the steak/ hubby had the steak". Steak, steak, steak. It's what the proletariat want.

It seems like the majority of reviewers also want to be semi- pro writers.
" I always ask myself, when does a $14 asian meal such as Sechuan Chicken become a $28 meal?
Answer, Freshly and carefully cooked ingrediants with great attention to presentation and detail, excellent service, a warm inviting upmarket decor, and a kitchen that looks as clean as the staff. "

I'm not sure what Bob 145 above is getting at. Is it some kind of slur? "Let me see your fingernails waiter! Hmmm... not bad, not bad. Well maintained cuticles and your ears look clean as a sea shell. Let me sniff your pits! I need to sniff them. Then, and only then, will I place my order. For steak. I need steak."

There's even reviews for Sizzlers.
"The only downfall we have with our repeat dining experiences at Sizzler is eating too much of the salad bar and the bloody dessert bar is a killer too if your not careful! You have been warned people!

You have been warned! Holy shit! The bloody desert bar.I imagine these people saying "LOL" all the time and having stuffed toys on the dash of their car. Why the fuck would anyone review Sizzler. It's the equivalent of reviewing your meal of meat pie and choc-chill from the service station.
"The service was pretty good.The waiter seemed attentive and made a joke about me being hungry at this hour. The pie tasted delicious. I really appreciate the way they microwave it until the pastry sogs up like warm playdough. I could tell that the gravy was made from the highest low-grade powder available. The ambience was somewhat ruined by the guy in tracksuit pants shuffling through the Picture magazines and the chap out the front scratching his face and smoking cigarettes he'd found on the ground. All in all, good value for money. I'll be back. Hopefully with a girlfriend. May even try the desert. I hear the Bubble-O Bills are to die for! "


In closing, how good is the word "stiffy"?

Amazingly good.

Reminds me of being twelve.


Gastr

Le' Baromater

Hot chillies that are supposed to be hot but are not hot are not hot. How come the chillies one buys from supermarkets never seem to be hot, they're more like stunted capsicums. It's like drinking mid-strength beer from a plastic cup or trying to give yourself a golden shower. You're left flat and damp wanting some full force abuse. I ate a Laksa a few months ago that made my eyes sweat and almost gave me an anaphylactic reaction. I was constricting and spacing. It was made more awesome by the fact that I was dining with company could tell them that the laksa was extremely hot but not too hot for me, but would probably kill normal people, but you know I could actually have it hotter. Oh yeah I eat zimbabwean bird's eyes for breakfast like I just need things hot you know like I could probably drink two litres of tom yum and like ten tablespoons of chili paste and still be like 'that wasn't hot at all' and then get on my motorbike and actually jump a bus and you'd be amazed and i would be like "what? Haven't you seen me do that before? I do it all the time" and then I would smoke a cigarette in one draw and put the butt out on my tongue.

I have heard so many wankers talk of their chili prowess. A guy asked the girl behind the counter at the noodle bar down the road to "make sure it's really hot. Like make it as hot as you think is hot and then make it hotter." He had those fucked euro/slip thongs on.

When I was in primary school, my best friend and I found an old microwave that someone had dumped on the schools compost mountain. As soon as we saw it we picked up big sticks and ran to it. We started beating that microwave with a wizzfizz of pre-teen violent enthusiasm. A teacher with a big grey beard and short-shorts heard our howls and ran to douse the flames before a full scale white-good bash riot broke out across the oval.

He said that he didn't have a microwave at his house but he was pretty sure that "the nuclear material inside made people infertile". We stopped immediately. For at least a year after I was pretty sure I would either get ball cancer or AIDS from the drink fountain.