From Slog tipper Morgan, here's The Man squishing our hamburger rebellion:

Also, a funny point from my friend Tom: "What kind of bold claim is it that you actually make a beef food out of beef?"

The Robbins half of Baskin-Robbins departed this mortal coil one week ago today. That's him on the right:

Ol' Irv Robbins grew up in Tacoma. He and Burt Baskin were brothers-in-law. He ate three or four scoops a day. His favorite: Jamoca almond fudge.

Selections from Baskin-Robbins' Fun Facts:

-Famous former Baskin-Robbins scoopers include presidential candidate and Illinois Senator Barack Obama.
-Howard Hughes once became quite fond of Baskin-Robbins Banana Nut ice cream, so his aides tried to purchase a bulk shipment for him. Sadly, they discovered the flavor had been discontinued. They put in a request for the smallest amount the company could provide for a special order, 350 gallons (1,300 Liters). It was shipped from Los Angeles to Las Vegas, where Hughes lived at the time on the top floor of the Desert Inn. That’s the hotel he bought after they tried to evict him. A few days after the order arrived, Hughes announced he was tired of Banana Nut and only wanted French Vanilla ice cream. The Desert Inn ended up distributing free Banana Nut ice cream to casino customers for a full year until the 350 gallons were gone.
-Sean “Diddy” Combs got his first break by starring in a Baskin-Robbins commercial at the age of two.
-Throughout the years, we’ve honored important American events and cultural trends by introducing premium ice cream flavors, such as Lunar Cheesecake, Sesame Sweet, Beatle Nut and Green Monster Mint. [Who--or WHERE--is this Green Monster???]

Ha ha. Have you guys seen this billboard at the north end of the University Bridge? Ha ha ha.

Sorry that picture is so terrible. I took it with my cell phone through the window while driving. In case you can't tell, someone (Spiderman?) climbed up on that McDonalds billboard with a can of spray paint, crossed out "beef," and wrote "shit."

I have a few thoughts on this billboard situation:

1. Ha ha ha!

2. Hey McDonalds people - did it occur to you that a picture of a hamburger is not, in fact, a numerical digit? So really your ad could be more accurately interpreted as "1% beef"? (Kudos, Andrew.)

3. Anyway, those hamburgers are clearly not 100% beef. Quite a large percentage of them is made of bun, and ketchup, and pickle, and American cheese, and wilty lettuce, and onions. Think about it, McDonalds. Think for two seconds.

4. As for YOU, climbing graffiti person, there's also NO WAY those hamburgers are 100% shit. First of all, if a Big Mac was just two literal shit patties on a bun, McDonalds would no longer be a popular hamburger restaurant. And like I said, on that billboard there is an obvious preponderance of bun (and cheese and pickle, etc), which is visibly not molded out of the feces of any animal. And even if there IS some feces in the McDonalds beef patties, there's no way they make it to even 1% feces. That would be SO MUCH FECES! I think "100% shitty" would be closer to your intended meaning. Because seriously. Eew. I don't want to eat that shit either.

5. Ha ha! It says "shit" really big! Where the babies can see!

Your chili is too sweet. It's weird.

Love,

Jonah.

Edit: In the interests of fairness, everything else was great. My sandwich was delicious and chickeny and our waitress was totally awesome and attentive even though it was crazy busy. You're not doing anything wrong, Smarty Pants. Just go easier on the sugar in your chili.

I'm frequently accused of taking marching orders from Andrew Sullivan—a friend and an absurdly frequent linkee here on Slog—when, in actual fact, Andrew and I disagree on a great many issues. Socialized medicine, for starters, and Paul Krugman and Al Gore and hate-crimes laws and, or course, Gay Eustace. (I did, of course, agree with Andrew about the, erm, war.)

Well, you can add those little vanilla scones at Starbucks to the list of things we disagree about. Andrew says...

...totally awesome: moist, sweet, crusty, the best pastry Starbucks has come up with.

I couldn't disagree more. I like petite vanilla pastries just as much as the next effete urban elitist. And I've tried these "scones" from Starbucks—in South Carolina, in Chicago, and in Seattle (at the airport). And those petite vanilla scones utterly flavorless, the icing is chalky, and the edges are neither crispy nor crusty. They taste like lightly sweetened Play-Doh. They are wholly without merit.

For real. (National Apple Pie Day is coming up: May 13). My favorite version is the Triple Coconut Cream Pie at Etta's on Western near the market. The recipe (I've not attempted it since a slice is so easy to procure) is available in Tom Douglas' Seattle Kitchen cookbook (an all-around great resource for locals; the crab-cake recipe is a foolproof). But back to the pie... the Dahlia Bakery (Fourth and Virginia) makes the masterpiece and sells it in four sizes: a nine-inch pie (serves 6-8, $32), four-inch baby pie (serves 2-4, $15), by the slice ($4.40), and a bite-sized mini pie ($2).

Anyone who works near there and is coming to Slog Happy tonight should bring me a slice! I will repay you and buy you a drink for your trouble.

Because I'm in Portland, and because it's the morning, and because my stomach is empty, I visit the Whole Foods near the largest used and new bookstore in the world. At this time of the day (a Sunday), breakfast is presented in the Prepared Foods Department. This section of the market happens to be empty; the trays of food are under bright lights; steam rises to the glass of the sneeze guard. After packing a small to-go box with warm scrambled eggs and sausages, I proceed to a row of checkout counters. All are empty save one. It's manned by a young chap whose right arm is complete and left arm incomplete--it ends where once a forearm sprang. I hand the chap my box, he weighs it and informs me of the price. I dig in my pockets, find a note, look up, and see the most disturbing thing: balanced on the fleshy stump of a backarm is my to-go box.

Says the amputee: "It's so warm, it feels so good. I don't want to take it off. Can I keep it there?"

He finally sees that I'm in a state of shock. My scrambled eggs and sausages are warming his stump.

I hand him the money; he hands me the box.

My revenge for his revenge: I ate and enjoyed the eggs, the sausages, and the ghost of his forearm.

Walking through Belltown just now I saw two campaign yard signs—both stuck into planters sitting on balconies. One was for Ron Paul, the other was for Hillary Clinton. Too bad, so sad.

I'm having lunch now at Macrina (s'good) and reading through the "Savage Love" mail. A meal and the "Savage Love" inbox... always a dicey combo. Hopefully there aren't any please-identify-this-mysterious-sore-on-my-genitals-for-me digital photos in the mail today. That could put me right off this delicious chow.

From the Department of Sounds Gross but Is Actually Delicious: Well's Banana Bread Ale, available at Pike St. Beer and Wine (518 E Pike St) and elsewhere. It's a medium-bodied, pleasantly drinkable English ale, sweet but not overwhelmingly fruity, with a banana scent and a malty finish.
I can't do better than the brewer's description:

This dark-golden coloured ale hugs the palate with great intensity. Its malty aroma is complemented by the gentle nose of banana. Its flavour unfolds with a sensual sparkle and a smart crispness, which balances its aroma perfectly. Tropically fruity; its ripe banana flavour, emphasised by a hint of bitterness, comes from the addition of real fair trade bananas and finishes with an emphatic, steely dryness.

Culinary Communion has found two ways around the recent Washington State Liquor Control Board crackdown on serving wine during classes at the Beacon Hill culinary school. According to an email from Culinary Communion, "private classes"--that is, classes paid for by an individual or group that are not on the regular Culinary Communion schedule--are able to legally drink their chardonnay by way of obtaining a banquet permit. Secondly:

…because C.C. House is a mixed-use building, with residential upstairs, common areas are not considered (by the city, according to the architectural plans and the lease) part of Culinary Communion's property. "Common areas" include our beautiful front patio, which is shared by all portions of the building, including Gabriel and Heidi's upstairs apartment. So, two plus two equals friends having wine on the patio this summer, and since you're all our friends, that works out, doesn't it? (BYOB, but better than nothing!) Look for new patio furniture ASAP!

Meanwhile, Culinary Communion is applying for a beer/wine specialty shop liquor license, as well as "making changes which will allow us to be fully licensed as a regular restaurant" (which involves specific commercial-grade kitchen equipment and meeting various other restaurant license requirements). These are the only two legal options currently available to cooking schools that wish to serve wine in Washington state; Culinary Communion's also working to create a new category of liquor license for culinary and wine educators.

Bizarrely, state law not only prohibits drinking alcohol during culinary courses, it requires written approval to cook with alcohol during such courses--because nothing's a greater threat to society than young urban professionals deglazing pans with red wine or making bread pudding with whiskey sauce at a cooking class (except doing so with a glass of wine in their hand).

Nothing further's been heard from Gypsy, the highly publicized "underground" (and unlicensed) restaurant that Gabriel Claycamp, Culinary Communion co-founder/chef, has been admittedly involved in. Gyspy sent out an email in the wake of the Culinary Communion/Liquor Control Board contretemps saying they were going "deeper underground." Some in the local food/restaurant community opine that Gypsy was only nominally underground anyway, what with having a website and garnering local and national media coverage, and that it was surprising Gypsy/Claycamp had gone several years without a hand-slap or more serious legal trouble.

From Gypsy's (still live) website: "Imagine a world without rules, a room without walls, creativity without impediment: Gypsy." Here's Claycamp in the Gypsy "Rogue's Gallery."

Just wanted to chime in re: Paul's assessment of Pike Street Fish Fry. It is awesome.

It's the perfect combination of good food (fish fresh daily from Mutual Fish Company; housemade sauces such as tartar, preserved lemon aioli, chili mayo, salsa verde, curry ketchup) and the kind of greasy food you crave when you're drunk. Which I happened to be the last two nights when I stopped in for dinner. (Thank god the Jack in the Box on Broadway has closed and cannot stand in the way of me and the Fish Fry.)

Wednesday night was fried asparagus (get it!), fried halibut, grilled spearfish, and Spanish fries (alas, too sweet for my taste). Last night it was a fried oyster sandwich with the preserved lemon aioli and housemade slaw, which is delicious, super tart, and made with red cabbage. But my favorite thing is the slices of lemon they fry up and serve alongside the fish--unexpected, amazing.

Pike Street Fish Fry isn't exactly cheap (last night's sandwich set me back $8.81), but for the quality of the food, it's reasonable. If any of you find yourself inebriated and anywhere near the corner of Pike & 10th this weekend, do yourself a favor and stop by.

(A few times a week, I take a new book with me to lunch and give it a half an hour or so to grab my attention. Lunch Date is my judgment on that speed-dating experience.)

Who's your date today? Mortarville, by Grant Bailie.

Where'd you go? This is a very special Lunch Date. It's actually more of a Dinner Date: last night, I went to Pike Street Fish Fry. They're only open from 5 'till "Late," so it's not strictly lunch, although I hadn't eaten lunch when I went there at 5:30, so it still counts.

What'd you eat? I had the cheapest order of fish, which was a white fish($5.50). And I had an order of Spanish Fries ($5), which is a regular order of french fries with sour cream and spicy sauce.

How was the food? Awesome. The fries aren't as good as Frites' fries were, but they're still good. The Spanish part of the Spanish fries, with the sour cream and the spicy sauce, was a little excessive: Next time I'm getting the regular fries and the curry ketchup. If I was drunk, I'd be all about getting the Spanish on, though. The fish was light and juicy and fried just right. Next time I might try the asparagus instead of fish. The biggest problem I had with the place was the lack of wet-naps: I smelled like an armless Alaskan fisherman by the time I was done eating.


What does your date say about itself? The author came to town a few weeks ago, but I just got a copy of the book in the mail yesterday. It's about an artificial human created by mad scientists, born from a spigot, who gets a job as a mall security guard.

Is there a representative quote? Try the first three sentences: "My parents died in a fire before I was born. Drs. John and Jonathon Smithee--no relation. It was a fate that befalls so many of our better mad scientists."

Will you two end up in bed together? Yes. I'm very excited to read this one. I've been on a bit of a depressing run in fiction, lately--I've been reading a lot of books that seem like they should be interesting, but they never really work out to actually be interesting. This one, at least, seems funny and weird and vaguely sweet.

Downtown workers, unite: In honor of May Day (and the gelateria's grand re-opening), free gelato at Gelatiamo on Third and Union, today from 11 a.m. to 1 p.m.

Gelatiamo
1400 Third Ave., 467-9563
(one free small gelato per worker)

Breakfast brings out strong feelings in Stranger readers. Many people wrote in to say we missed their favorite bacon or otherwise fell down on the job in this past week's Food Fight! Morning Glory Edition. We can't eat every strip of bacon in the city (much as we'd like to), so here are some of your thoughts.

From the irate Mr. [name redacted] (sic throughout):

You all F'd up!

How can you not even mention the 5 Spot in your best breakfasts in Seattle? The Dish? There biscuits and gravy can't touch the 5 Spot's. The biscuits are big fresh and aren't something that comes out of a can. The bacon there is the best I have come accross and you mentioned places like Tilth, Veil and Senior Moose, which the last I might add should be shut down for improper ventilation, I almost cried when I was there because it was so smokey in there.

Get off your asses and wait in line for some breakfast at the 5 Spot, or try it during the week when there are no lines.

Like I said you all F'd up!

Interestingly, some Stranger reader-reviewers completely oppose Mr. [name redacted]'s point of view, while some entirely support it. Food fight!

From the more moderate mind of the splendidly named Berl Nussbaum:

I looked in vain for my favorite breakfast place, LC's Kitchen. With your cadre of reviewers overwhelmed by geography and sheer numbers of Seattle restaurants, I'm not surprised. Lake City Way doesn't even qualify as a region on the breakfast map.

A prisoner of granola and breakfast virtue, I seldom walk on the fatty side before noon--but LC's is always a weekend temptation. They have a variant on hash browns--more like 3-D potato latkes, really--that occasionally appears on the menu, alone worth the trip. If you ever feel adventurous, maybe give it a try--or send one of your minions. Ambience? Well, it's unprepossessing, Lake City Way after all. But homey and tasty--and mercifully uncrowded on weekends. I wouldn't mind seeing more crowds, it'll help them survive.

Thanks.

No, no: Thank YOU, Berl.

Ms. Emily Parker instructs re: "BOMB breakfast grub":

Wonderful article on breakfast and drinking for breakfast... the best way to fill the void. My favorite spot is CJ's on 1st in Belltown. I only ever order their pancakes (they have crispy edges, a very exciting pancake), but my friend tells me they have other stuff on the menu he claims is also good.

Have a spectacular day!

You too, Emily!

And two anonymous AOL users wrote about the Hi-Spot (conspiracy?):

I think it's kind of strange that y'all missed my favorite, The Hi Spot Cafe in all categories. They, in fact, have the best bacon I've had in quite sometime. Almost always have to wait for a table, but it's worth it!!

Hi, seriously have you tried the bacon at the Hi Spot Cafe??? It is some of the best bacon you can buy and a must try. At lunchtime it becomes the best BLT known to mankind!!!

Thank you all. As you were.

[An aside: I said I wouldn't disparage the $38.95-per-person brunch buffet at Salty's on Alki here, but then I did anyway. Apparently people love a liquid chocolate fountain: Burn on me, Salty's grossed $11.5 MILLION DOLLARS last year, making it one of only three restaurants in Washington state among the country's 100 top-grossing independent restaurants (from the terribly named Restaurants & Institutions magazine, via the PI's Rebekah Denn). Stranger reader-reviewers still think Salty's sucks.]

UPDATE: Folks want to know where they can get their hands on this new and already famous bacon—so I asked the person who forwarded me this picture, our own Aaron Edge, where he got it. And, uh, perhaps I should've asked Aaron that before I posted this picture. Anyway, Edge found it at How To Avoid the Bummer Life, which found the chocolate at Marini's in Santa Cruz.

UPDATE 2: There's no chocolate-covered bacon available for sale on Marini's website, so I gave the store a call just to make sure it wasn't a hoax.

Still selling chocolate-covered bacon?

Yes, we are.

Why can't I order it via your website?

They only have selected items on the website, and the bacon is kind of new. We've only had it for a month or two.

How does it taste? Is it as good as it looks?

I don't know. I don't eat red meat.

But it's not red. It's brown.

True. But it's really kind of a guy's chocolate.

Like a stunt chocolate?

Yes.

Do you sell a lot of it?

Yes, it's selling pretty good.

UPDATE 3: Aaron Edge has been a vegan for 17 years and he says he misses bacon more than anything.

(A few times a week, I take a new book with me to lunch and give it a half an hour or so to grab my attention. Lunch Date is my judgment on that speed-dating experience.)

Who's your date today? The Gift of Rain, by Twan Eng.

Where'd you go? La Puerta, at the top of the Broadway Market.

What'd you eat? Three beef tacos, beans, and rice ($6.75).

How was the food? I was thoroughly unimpressed. My mom has made me better tacos by strictly following the directions on an Old El Paso taco kit box, and I've had better refried beans out of a can. There's been some love for La Puerta in the past on Slog, but I can't get on that "it's-just-like-authentic-Mexican-cafeteria-food" train: Cafeteria food is cafeteria food no matter where you go.


What does your date say about itself? The Gift of Rain was shortlisted for the 2007 Man Booker Prize. It's a novel set in World War II, about a young half-Chinese man who learns the Japanese martial art of aikijutsu from the world's greatest aikijustu master. It has been compared to The Quiet American by more than one reviewer.

Is there a representative quote? "It was a typical afternoon in the biggest town in Malaya: the English would leave their sweltering offices, go to the Spotted Dog to have a gin and tonic, play some cricket, and then return home for a bath before coming back to the Club for dinner and then dancing. It was a good life, a rich life filled with ease and enjoyment."

Will you two end up in bed together? Yes, though I'm slightly on the fence on this one. The novel is slow, to say the least, but there's a definite sense that something good is going to come at some point. The only question is, will the goodness come too late to retain my interest? Possibly. Time will tell.

So much to make you wring your hands in this piece from Sunday's NYTimes about the ways people are cutting back to deal with soaring food prices, but two quotes in particular jumped out at me.

The first:

Burt Flickinger, a longtime retail consultant, said the last time he saw such significant changes in consumer buying patterns was the late 1970s, when runaway inflation prompted Americans to “switch from red meat to pork to poultry to pasta — then to peanut butter and jelly.” “It hasn’t gotten to human food mixed with pet food yet,” he said, “but it is certainly headed in that direction.”

The second:

Such trade-offs were on vivid display last week in Ohio, where layoffs have been rampant. At Save-A-Lot, a discount grocery store in Cleveland, Teresa Rutherford, 51, chided her sister-in-law, Donna Dunaway, 44, for picking up a package of Sara Lee honey ham (eight ounces for $2.49).

“We can’t afford that!” she said. “Get the cheap stuff.” They settled on a 16-ounce package of Deli Pleasures ham for $3.29, or 34 percent less an ounce.

The women said that soaring prices for food and fuel had changed what they buy and where they buy it. “We used to eat out at Bob Evans or Denny’s once a month,” said Ms. Rutherford, who works in an auto-parts factory. “Now we don’t go out at all. We eat in all the time.”

Ms. Dunaway, a homemaker, used to splurge on the ingredients for homemade lasagna, her husband’s favorite, before food prices began to surge this year.

“Now he’s lucky to get a 99-cent lasagna TV dinner, or maybe some Manwich out of a can,” she said. “I just can’t afford to be buying all that good meat and cheese like I used to.

Paging Michael Pollan: We are fucked.

This week's paper brings Food Fight: Morning Glory, devoted to breakfast, brunch, and everything in between. One of the many delights is Angela Garbes' tour of Seattle's Mexi-breakfast options, which introduced me to the existence of huitlacoche, aka "corn smut" (pictured above), descibed by Garbes as "a fungus that infects corncobs and replaces normal kernels with tumors that resemble mushrooms. These 'mushrooms' [are] musky, sweet, dark, and firm."

Elsewhere you'll find the venerable Bethany Jean Clement on Seattle's new wave of schmancy brunch, the sensible Chris McCann on the city's greatest greasy spoons, and the worship-worthy Lindy West cramming herself full of bacon. (Plus Jonah Spangenthal-Lee on dim sum, Marti Jonjak on Bloody Marys, and Ari Spool on Seattle's best breakfast sandwiches.)

Explore the whole thing here, and add your own opinions about Seattle's bruncheries in our reader review-powered Restaurant Guide.

Dan on Seattlest threw up a post yesterday, giving a big sloppy blowjob to the Rancho Bravo taco truck—AKA Rancho Barfo—on 2nd and 45th in Wallingford.

A few weeks ago, I wrote about the truck's health code issues on Slog, which sparked a debate about the quality of their food and why I hate independent businesses so much.

Well, dear readers, I can tell you that their food is—despite Dan's claims—not very good. And it certainly doesn't deserve praise like this:

Wallingford, by the way, is in no way deserving of this taco truck. If the neighborhood was that blond preppy jerk from the 80's with the popped collar, daddy's connections and mad tennis/golf/karate skills, then Rancho Bravo would be its Elizabeth Shue. It just doesn't fit. Someday some geeky neighborhood with a big heart is going to come along with its cast of dedicated misfit friends and steal it away. Until then it's in the Winchell's parking lot near Dicks.

In the interests of fairness—although this is Slog, and we're not necessarily known for that—after I wrote about Rancho Bravo, the owner emailed me. Here's the letter with a bit of editing for length/clarity.

Hey Jonah, I'm the owner of Rancho Bravo Tacos. It's a bit late but I just read the piece you posted on March 31st. I tried to post a comment on the page you posted but it looks like comments are closed now. I just wanted to let you know that I agree that our quality had been declining. This mostly stemmed from not utilizing our limited space efficiently, this was causing a lot of storage problems which included blocking access to the hand sink, although there has always been access to the main three compartment sink. This was also the main issue with the health department. It was a great wake-up call and we have revamped EVERYTHING inside and out. You can definitely taste the difference now that we've got everything in order.

Thanks,
Freddy

Freddy, I'm sure you've done your best to improve the health conditions at your place, but I can't imagine fixing your sink has done much to improve the quality of the food.

The Al Pastor that Seattlest raves about has, on several occasions, been dry and overcooked or strangely mealy. The last burrito I ordered had cold things inside which should have been hot, and hot things that should have been cold. I don't think I'll be back.

I don't mean to pick on Rancho Bravo, and I know it isn't the only truck in town with issues—there's at least one truck I can think of that's been displaying an expired food license for about 6 months now—but c'mon. If you venture outside of Wallingford, there are like 8 zillion better taco trucks out there.

PS

By some strange coincidence, the Seattlest post preceding the Rancho Bravo write-up sings the praises of Cafe Stellina. I've never been there, but I know some folks at our paper had less than favorable things to say about it.

PSS

Yes, commenters. I am a stupid fucker, and I don't know what good food tastes like. Carry on.

It's Earth Day. Who wants processed chicken soup?

From the label:

By letting you add the water at home, we can make the cans smaller, which saves a lot of metal, and lighter, which saves fuel when bringing it to your local store shelf.

Please, for one day, try to forget Campbell’s plastic packaging of its non-condensed soup.

The green-label can is available exclusively at the earth liberation bunker known as WalMart. If you want to know why I was there, it was because I was purchasing a pair of sexist, anorexic, drunken, corporate, made-in-China pajamas.

And some of them are mean and hilarious.

From the reader reviews of The Stranger's restaurant guide, a bracing assessment of North Shore Hawaiian Barbecue:

The Stranger's review of this place was pretty spot on, except for the bit on the Mac Salad. It didn't need a few shakes of salt and pepper... it needed to have its cage cleaned out. Seriously, it tasted like how the zoo smells. And not the part of the zoo where they charge you $10 for a crappy caesar salad and it smells like old hot dogs. No, I'm talking about the part of the zoo where the hippos wallow in their own shit and fuck each other. Yeah, it tasted like that.

(Do you eat out and have opinions? Add your voice to the ever-burgeoning Stranger Restaurant Guide.)

This week: Two stories of sheer weirdness involving two local chefs.

First, more details on the Washington State Liquor Control Board halting the lawless drinking of chardonnay (and the use of wine in, say, wine-reduction sauces) during cooking classes on Beacon Hill. Chef Gabriel Claycamp of Culinary Communion calls the situation "a shitstorm" and says the WSLCB enforcement officer at the door said, "I'm not here to arrest you, though I could. But I will next time." (Claycamp's the one who did the recent pig kill.) But is Claycamp's widely known involvement in a so-called "underground restaurant" (one with a website; one that's been featured on Anthony Bourdain's TV show) partly to blame? My attempt to clarify is here.

Second, the death-defying tale of the local chef who ate his way to 469 pounds, got gastric bypass surgery, was in a coma for almost six months, recovered, and opened a gourmet burger shack called Lunchbox Laboratory in Ballard. The amount of one of the (great) burgers he's making at his new place that he is physically capable of eating? One-eighth of one burger. More than that, and "It feels like somebody's stabbing me in the stomach." The whole story is here.

In my column this week, I wrote about The Geneva Restaurant, a place I have been mildly obsessed with since I moved to Seattle but have never actually eaten at. And never will, as it has just closed. (The Fine Dining Etiquette Seminar I mentioned is now canceled.)

Geneva is gone and an Italian restaurant, Rustica, has taken its place. In place of Geneva's old school European cuisine (bunderfleisch, emince of veal bernoise, pan-fried calf's liver, jaeger schnitzel), Rustica will offer classic Italian fare (pastas and risottos, saltimboca). I called last night--Rustica is open for business.

RIP, Geneva. I hardly knew ye.

(A few times a week, I take a new book with me to lunch and give it a half an hour or so to grab my attention. Lunch Date is my judgment on that speed-dating experience.)

Who's your date today? In Hoboken, a paperback original novel by Christian Bauman.

Where'd you go? Pizza Brava, up in the U District, on the Ave.

What'd you eat? A regular piece of cheese pizza ($2, tax included) and a thick slice of meat pizza ($2, tax included).

How was the food? You know, after this morning's pizza talk, I really wanted a piece of pizza. And Pizza Brava has a lot of the necessities of a New York-style pizza place: grouchy-looking old people behind the counter, a big ugly wall mural of Seattle with a pizza rising instead of the sun over it, and pizza so flat I could practically use it as a bookmark.

The thing is, though I spent a lot of time in New York City, I'm not really crazy about New York-style pizza; I'm more impressed by spicy pizza, or pizza with something special going on in the dough. The cheese slice was good, and the two dollar price tag moves it up to 'great,' but I think I could go the rest of my life without ever eating here again and feel okay about it. If you're one of those "OMG THE ONLY GOOD PIZZA COMES FROM NEW YORK AND YOU WEST COAST HIPPIES WOULDN'T KNOW GOOD PIZZA IF IT FELL INTO YOUR PANTS" types, you should definitely check it out.

The thick-crust pizza was entirely skippable. There was too much of the bland dough.


What does your date say about itself? In Hoboken is about two lifelong friends trying to make it in the music business. But more than that, it's about Hoboken, New Jersey, the 'mile-square city' and birthplace of Frank Sinatra. Robert Stone says that "Bauman writes with precision, in prose that reverberates...strong, compelling work."

Is there a representative quote? "Originally, guitars were strung with gut, which led directly to modern nylon-string guitars. Nylon strings are no good for nobody. In his humblest of opinions, Thatcher held out that anything you could play on a guitar sounded better on anything other than nylon strings. Nolon strings sounded like dull rubber in a strong wind."

Will you two end up in bed together? Oh, God, yes. Novels about musicians are usually a turn-off for me, but Bauman is an incredible writer, and his writing about Hoboken makes me want to buy a plane ticket out to Jersey as soon as humanly possible--not because it seems like a beautiful place, or even an interesting place, but he's so artfully passionate about Hoboken that it's kind of hard to not catch some of that enthusiasm. This is one of those books--like Lethem when he's cooking, say, or Chabon at his most vibrant, when every line snaps and propels you forward. It's the best book I've taken to lunch yet.

You read it here first: John McCain's wife is a plagiarist.

Cindy McCain has allegedly been lifting recipes from the Food Network site, including those of Giada De Laurentiis:

The recipes have apparently been pulled, but you can see them, at least for now, in Google Cache: Farfalle Pasta with Turkey Sausage, Peas, and Mushrooms, Rosemary Chicken Breasts and Warm Spinach Salad with Bacon, Passion Fruit Mousse, Mixed Fruit Tart, Crab Scampi and Whole Wheat Spaghetti, Ahi Tuna with Napa Cabbage Slaw.

On the bright side, McCain fans can breathe a sigh of relief: No girly meals for this war hero!

Sorry, Erica, but I disagree. I've never had All-Purpose Pizza delivered to me--I live out of their delivery range--but I've eaten there quite a few times and I love it, and many Stranger readers agree with me. The sourdough crust is amazing, and the sauce--made with red wine, for you drunkies out there--is just spicy enough to make things interesting. They could use a better cheese, but I've never had anything but good times at All-Purpose Pizza. Although, as a caveat, I do usually stick to the veggie toppings.

All-Purpose Pizza in the South End makes OK pizza. Just OK. The crust is sort of cardboardy yet thick, and they tend to skimp on the toppings. It's certainly not worth $35.

But that's exactly what they charge to deliver a large pizza with "everything." $35!!

All-Purpose Pizza is, not coincidentally, the ONLY pizza shop (caveats: 1. besides Domino's and 2. that I'm aware of) that delivers in the South End.

Hello, Pagliacci? You're missing a great opportunity here. Give these monopolists some competition!

Photo by Iirraa on Flickr.

"Jellybeans! Yum! Yes, I would like one, thank you. Which kind? Oh, Buttered Popcorn is my favorite. What the fuck!? [gagging, spitting noises] This isn't buttered popcorn, this tastes like fucking rotten egg!? You sick fuck!"

One box, 10 colors, 20 flavors. Half taste delicious--Cafe Latte, Pear, Carmel Corn, etc. Their evil twins, though, taste like shit. Or pencil shavings. Or ear wax. And the only way to know which is which is to taste them.

It's a dare, you see? Jelly Belly is daring you to eat the jelly beans that may or may not make you want to die.

That's just fucking mean. They're selling them at the QFC on Broadway and Pike if you're looking to ruin someone's day.

And yeah, the vomit really does taste like vomit. It's fucking disgusting.

Today is Skillet's first day on Capitol Hill. Lunch is from 11ish to 2, in the Photographic Center Northwest parking lot at the corner of 12th and Marion. It may be mobbed. If you want to eat, you should probably be there already.

(A few times a week, I take a new book with me to lunch and give it a half an hour or so to grab my attention. Lunch Date is my judgment on that speed-dating experience.)

Who's your date today? Devil's Cape, by Rob Rogers

Where'd you go? Quinn's

What'd you eat? Sausage sandwich with sauerkraut ($9) and fries ($3)

How was the food? I've now eaten at Quinn's three times. The first two times, I left feeling slightly nauseous--I think that Quinn's meat-in-every-item-on-the-menu strategy may be too much for me. I went this time expecting it to be my last trip, that I'd be finished with Quinn's for good. But this sausage sandwich, even with the sauerkraut that's been condensed and riddled with essence of pork, is amazing. This may be the best sausage sandwich I've ever eaten. It's not just the quality of the sandwich--the sausage is made onsite--but the whole goddamned thing was just so well put together that it was brilliant. I never thought I'd say it, but it's actually worth the nine bucks. I will eat this sandwich again.


What does your date say about itself? It's a science fiction novel about a city in Louisiana that was founded by pirates. The city's currently the home to a number of superheroes. It was given to me by a friend who, like me, has a weakness for reading books about superheroes--Soon I Will be Invincible, for example--but is always disappointed by them. He really liked the book, but was ultimately disappointed.

Is there a representative quote? "That was the last time anyone ever saw the Omega, at least anyone who would admit to it. It was as though he had disappeared off the face of the earth, or as though Devil's Cape had swallowed him whole. The site of his last speech is a regular stop on the city's popular crime tours."

Will you two end up in bed together? Yes, but just because it was recommended. The language is a little pedestrian--this is part of the Wizards of the Coast Discoveries Program, which is a contest put on by local publisher Wizards of the Coast in which amateur authors send in their sci-fi novels to WOTC and the best four are published, so that's probably to be expected--but the darkness and the strong sense of place seem pretty strong. I think it may be a one-night lark, but it should be a fun one.

Snickers Adventure Bar. I know, right? It's to coincide with the new Indiana Jones movie coming out next month. So to celebrate, they take a regular Snickers and put some coconut flavoring and "a cliffhanger kick of exotic spice" into it. I'm not exactly sure why.

You taste the coconut the instant you bite into it. It's weird, but not horrible. Then the spices come as the chocolate starts to melt--they're strongest as an after-taste. My boyfriend thinks I'm wrong, but I swear it's curry.

I'm pretty sure I never need to eat it again.

Erika Burke, of the Volunteer Park Cafe, and Linda Derschang, of a couple places you might have heard of, are partnering to open a cafe/restaurant/bar called Odd Fellows on the ground floor of Odd Fellows Hall. On the 10th Avenue side. The space where Freehold is now.

It will open 7 a.m.-ish and serve until around midnight. There will be a counter-service coffee (from Stumptown), free Wi-Fi, and lots of places to sit--from what I understand, it will be a little bigger than Cafe Presse. The menu will be basics--sandwiches, pastries, salads, a few entrees, not unlike what Volunteer Park Cafe does.

It'll take a while to knock down the office walls of the Freehold space and, you know, bring in a restaurant; Burke and Derschang are talking about a late-October/early-November opening.

The Kress Supermarket will open in June at Third and Pike downtown. According to a press release sent out today, the new grocery will be "unique in its commitment to green practice with its embrace and support of local vendors, low-impact product packaging, and mix of materials." While it's exciting to see a full-size (18,000-square-foot) grocery going in downtown, I wonder if it might be "greener"--not to mention better for the 18,000 people who actually live downtown, as opposed to the people who just work there--if the store focused less on prepared, ready-to-eat packaged foods (which will take up 40 percent of the floor space) and more on locally sourced, organic produce, meat, eggs, and dairy. Do we really need another M Street Grocery, with acres of packaged salads and sandwiches but little fresh produce and nary a butcher to be found? Or do downtown dwellers subsist entirely on products made and packaged for them by someone else?

(Thanks to Bethany for the tip!)

Don't do it. I should've know better. I know. Don't tell me I'm stupid for thinking it could be good. I never thought it'd be good. I just... had to try it anyway.

The added vanilla flavor, which is far too strong, tastes like cheap vanilla extract. After one gulp I felt like I was drinking up the mixture of melted ice cream, flat soda, and backwash that's left in the bottom of someone else's old root beer float.

If you see it, stay away.

Giant Chewy Nerds, on the otherhand, are my new best friend.

Where would a discerning diner find Seattle's best bacon?

Thank you for your input.

Dept. of April Fools' Day Leftovers: This is a joke.

That is what it will be called.

The USDA sends me an email when they make a federal case out of, say, E. coli, Listeria (a popular one), botulism, "undeclared allergens" in food, food mislabeling (oops--those Frozen Chicken Products aren't precooked!), and good old "adulterated" food.

You can subscribe to the USDA Food Safety and Inspection Service Open Federal Cases Update here.

Yesterday's update concerns Federal Case FSIS-RC-012-2008:

...a Class II Recall of Frozen Cattle Heads That Contain Prohibited Materials. Take it away, Federal Casemaker:

April 4, 2008 - Elkhorn Valley Packing LLC, a Harper, Kan., establishment, is voluntarily recalling approximately 406,000 pounds of frozen cattle heads with tonsils not completely removed....

Tonsils are considered a specified risk material (SRM) and must be removed from cattle of all ages in accordance with FSIS regulations. SRMs are tissues that are known to contain the infective agent in cattle infected with BSE.... Therefore, FSIS prohibits SRMs from use as human food to minimize potential human exposure to the BSE agent.

The products subject to recall include:
* Various weight bulk boxes of "BEEF WHOLE HEADS, KEEP REFRIGERATED."

BSE is Bovine Spongiform Encephalopathy, or mad cow disease. A Class II recall is "HEALTH RISK: LOW." The classes go a little something like this:

Class I: Bad! You could die.
Class II: Medium-ish (?): "A health hazard situation where there is a remote probability of adverse health consequences from the use of the product." Wait, sorry: LOW.
Class III: Also "a situation," but "a situation where the use of the product will not cause adverse health consequences." No big deal! (For a federal case.)

Questions? This (kind of hot!) automated drawing of a lady named Karen is here for you "24/7."

As you're probably already aware, Austria is not Australia. One: waltzes, the start of WWI, Freud, sausages. The other: criminals, the Great Barrier Reef, kangaroos, shrimp/barbies. Which place would you go to find an especially delicious breed of pig?

The new-to-us, super-extra-tasty pork known as Mangalitsa, or Wooly pig, comes from Austria, not Australia as I originally said in this week's chow lead (my error lives on in print, though the online version has been corrected; the story is actually mostly about puppets). The gents who imported the Wooly pigs (with much difficulty, including lengthy quarantines on each side) are raising them out by Spokane.

Our goal is to raise pigs that taste as good as those of the Austrians, the people who sold us the pigs and taught us about pig fattening. We are raising the Mangalitsa as they do, and working with them to maximize our meat quality.

The pigs are raised in a humane manner.

The climate out there in the Palouse isn't so dissimilar to Austria's, either, so that works well. (It is dissimilar to the climate in, say, Australia.) I knew that the Woolies came from Austria, but then I forgot. I talked separately with two different very smart, very food-oriented types about the pigs, saying, "Was it Austria or Australia?" which made them both laugh, then they BOTH said Australia. (Ha ha ha! It doesn't even make sense!) Still, it's completely my fault, and I am mortified.

Rancho Bravo has returned.