You're no good, you're no good, you're no good, McRib, you're no good
Also: The Doritos Locos Tacos Four Loko Cocoa Loco Moco, a delightful Claire Saffitz interview, and one of the many attempts at making a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster
Dear McRib:
If I have to be honest with myself, it’s not that you’re terrible. You’re a perfectly fine seasoned pork barbecue sandwich, though you’re fooling no one with that faux-bone silhouette you’re sporting — everyone knows you’re only a couple of grind settings away from Spam.
It’s just…last week, running to you in the middle of a busy day, desperate for sustenance, only blocks from a perfectly good bahn mi joint, and a few minutes walk from truly excellent pozole and al pastor…I was running late, and I talked myself into thinking what I was craving was you, when really what I wanted was what I thought you were when we first started seeing each other, which was really, less than anyone deserves: lowered expectations, covered in barbecue sauce and slivered onions.
I know we’ve had our dalliances in the past. But last week was the last time. I know better. I deserve better. And I’ve realized you’re the sandwich I always thought you were but never admitted to myself: you’re tasty, but you could be so, so, so much more. And yet, you think you’ll never have to be. You think those raw onions make you seem edgy, but all they do is call attention to the one-dimensional cloyingness of your sauce and your love for yourself.
You hope I’ll forget that I’m angry — angry at you for thinking I’m sad enough to keep craving you, angry at myself for agreeing with you until now — and run back to you.
This time, you can keep your excessively sweet sauce and mushy, pasty consistency and leave me alone.
I’m gonna find me a sandwich that validates my choices, instead of making me regret them, and — no matter how many commercials or online coupons you send — never. look. back.
At least your sibling McChicken KNOWS it’s cheap, trashy and satisfying. It doesn’t take a seasonable push of terrible jingles and commercials to remind us what delicious garbage it is.
And that’s why it’ll stay a classic. Unlike you and your bone-form that reminds me of the teen who Photoshops muscles onto his profile picture.
You? You’re just trash.
— Theo
If you’ve read this far, and this often — you’ve probably been enjoying The83K for the length of our brief existence. Won’t you help us get bigger and better and become a Patron?
Thank you for subscribing to and spending time with The83k. This newsletter will remain free for you, friends and food fans, who are enjoying the food coverage here — but I’m hoping to offer in broader and more in-depth stories and features in the future (like the interview above.) I'd like to dedicate more time to it and make it a sustainable concern for everyone who wants more of that delicious, useful content (and frequent roundups of everything you like about food.)
Please consider becoming a Patron and help make The83k bigger and better.
OH AND THERE'S A BUNCH OF PERKS, TOO.
Also: if you don't want to subscribe, or just want to make a one-time donation – OR want all the goodies but don't want to use Patreon, please feel free to use this link: paypal.me/theohahn
Again: thank you, friends!
Things you should make:
The International House of Pancakes features a forkton of pancakes but little diversity. I’ve yet to see a Rooty Tooty Fresh n’ Fruity featuring paper dosas or a short stack of okonomiyaki. Pancakes can be, and most often should be, savory affairs. These all look like delicious winners.
I’ve heard chef friends talk about this go-to wonder of a nearly-all-purpose condiment, but I’ve yet to dive into the smoky, salty, seafoody depths of XO sauce. That’s gonna change, and soon.
You listen to me, you f*ckin’ trolls. I don’t wanna hear a single toot out of your dumb mouths about how this recipe begins with the words:
Who doesn’t love ham and pineapple pizza?
…because I don’t, and I know you probably don’t either [with the exception of the Porkypineapple from this gem of a restaurant] but that doesn’t mean that combination isn’t delicious, especially in a stir fry.
More food stuff:
I would never, in a million years, think this would have turned out well. But it did. Please, Dennis. Get help. (And share next time.)
The following image of a lovely birthday cake is simply an excuse for me to get Untitled Goose Game content into my food newsletter. No regrets. (also: really marvelous crafting.) (also also: buy yourself this game.)
We all should be grinding a custom blend of dried chiles to make our own chile powder. But, yes, that’s most definitely a pain in the ass and most of us don’t do it very often. But when we can’t get to this place or this place or order from this place in time, grocery store chile powder will have to do — and you could do a lot worse.
Things you should watch and/or listen to:
Pasta Grannies is a YouTube series that finds nonnas in Italy cooking mind-blowing food and showcases their chow and talent in short, charming and instructive videos. Spend a weekend afternoon in your kitchen cooking one of these recipes while watching the rest.
This interview with Claire Saffitz confirms everything you may already know about one of my favorite chefs/bakers on the internet: she’s thoughtful, meticulous and, just like the rest of us, pissed off when a recipe or a dish doesn’t go right.
Douglas Adams is a much beloved and dearly missed British author. Of his many contributions to the collective imaginations of generations of readers (yes, the first book is now 40 years old) the Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster is a drink often mentioned and impossible to make — with terrestrial ingredients, at least:
Take the juice from one bottle of that Ol' Janx Spirit.
Pour into it one measure of water from the seas of Santraginus V (Oh, that Santragian seawater! Oh, those Santragian fish!)
Allow three cubes of Arcturan Mega-gin to melt into the mixture (it must be properly iced or the benzine is lost).
Allow four litres of Fallian marsh gas to bubble through it, in memory of all those happy Hikers who have died of pleasure in the Marshes of Fallia.
Over the back of a silver spoon float a measure of Qualactin Hypermint extract, redolent of all the heavy odours of the dark Qualactin Zones, subtle, sweet, and mystic.
Drop in the tooth of an Algolian Suntiger. Watch it dissolve, spreading the fires of the Algolian Suns deep into the heart of the drink.
Sprinkle Zamphuor.
Add an olive.
Drink . . . but . . . very carefully . . .
That doesn’t mean a nerd can’t try, though: