Hey Lisa, congradulations on coming in third last week! You’re desparation reeks of talentlessness and sour attitude and you should never have made it this far. Go away.

I think a woman is in line to win this thing.  I’m happy to see either Richard or Stephanie take the cake.  Both are great chef’s and great personalities.  Here is hoping for another Bourdain apperance.

There is only so many ways you can prove you’re a geek but I have to admit, I’m pretty excited for the final four of Top Chef.

In my opinion, Lisa made it by the skin of her teeth.  It seems programmed that they’d have three women in the final four.  Spike did screw up using the frozen scallops, he lost his way by trying to compete rather than trying to produce the absolute best food possible.  His winning the quick challange and getting first pick from the walk in wasn’t much of a prize.  His competitors, I’m sure, could make something delicious out of next to nothing.  It would have been a better move to think about what you want to make, what message you want to convey, then choose appropriate ingredients.  Seems like he was, again, trying to take away options from his fellow chefs.

Onward though.

Lisa is still in my gun sites and I hope she goes down in a fiery blaze of bad tasting failure.  Richard, Stephanie and Antonia are all people I’d love to get to know.  Lisa is a person I hope never to be stuck in an elevator with.

Not sure what the format of the show will be.  Maybe they kick two off tonight, maybe its the whole enchalata in one show.  Either way, Lisa must loose and beyone that my favorites in order are Richard, Stephanie and Antonia.

PS - Hopeing for a Bourdain cameo tonight.

Among the handful of shows I watch regularly, Top Chef at the moment ranks at the top. This season has been great but from the start it has been Richard’s to loose. He sets the bar for his fellow chefs. Despite strong competition I’d be surprised if he didn’t win.

Lisa was never a stand out in my mind but her performance at the judges table in episode 10 revealed her true colors calling Andrew out on his use of ingredients which were in conflict with the rules. It was a desperate act from someone who knows they’re chances are slim. Resorting to tactics instead of good food to win is not the sign of a Top Chef.

Andrew may be a weirdo but I liked him and I think he can cook. More importantly though, week after week he showed a passion and zeal for his craft that went unmatched. I’ll miss Andrew going forward and I’m eager to see Lisa hang.

Episode 11 saw Dale hang for being a poor leader and a bad team player. I think it could have easily been Lisa though. She is smug and seems flabbergasted at criticism from the judges. Bourdain hated her Laksa. Why she thought that was a good idea when Tony was judging shows her lack of thoughtfulness. I’m projecting her to be kicked off tonight.

Spike has to know he is also skating a fine line. If he can pull off something really special he’ll make it another week. If he’s out of tricks, he’s done. I’d be very surprised to see Stephanie, Richard or Antonia off tonight.

Update: Had a strange feeling earlier today that Antonia could be the one to go…

When I first saw Bizzare Foods on the Travel Channel my back went up a bit. Was this guy serious? Anyone who was anyone knew that the first guy filming his travels around the world while eating bizzare food, at least in recent memory, was Anthony Bourdain in A Cook’s Tour.

This short lived series featured Tony, mostly drunk, always smoking, chomping his way from plate to plate and place to place while keeping his audience entertained with witty commentary and vignettes of his work in the kitchen. Bourdain has gone from strength to the strength, building on the sucess of A Cook’s Tour with his new show Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations on the Travel Channel.

And then came Zimmern, looking like an unemployed cherub blatently riping off Bourdain’s concept. How dare he!

Look Zimmern, you can’t just shove every piece of fetid pigs ass and grasshopper nipple into your face and pretent you like it. No, you can’t even pretend like you’re the first guy to do it either! Damn you Fat Man!

I was angry.

And on top of it all, he just seemed so damn disingenuous, with his constant “Mmmmm”, and “Wow, this is good!” as he’d motion his head slowly and erotically up and down with approving eyes fixed at the three week old road kill marinaded in motor oil and crab penis. You can’t be serious!

His girth attests to his love of food but were the cameras editing out his retching after the chicken testicle soup? Did they cut out his desperate all out sprint through the grimy back alleys of Hanoi screaming “I WANT MY BABY BACK, BABY BACK, BABY BACK RIBS!”? Wouldn’t a broken and shaking Zimmern loosing it after learning from his producers that there isn’t a Chilis within 8000 miles have made for richer TV, higher ratings, a better show?

Maybe I kept watching in hopes of seeing this sort of break down. Maybe I wanted to see a man, so desperate for his 15 minutes of fame, snap under the pressure of forcing one last bite of pickled worm trotter.

But I kept watching. And I started to detect a bit of sincerity in the “Mmmms” and “Wows”. Again, the man has some size, he obviously loves food but could it be possible that he loves all food. Plus, even if Bourdain isn’t in the show, the concept combines two of my passions, travel and food.

Having backpacked the Pacific Rim for 4+ months with my lovely wife the show helped me relive the scents and smells of those street vendors, the din of a busy market place, the late night hustle and bustle of an outdoor food court, crowded with young people enjoying the only part of the day that isn’t stiflingly hot and settling in for some good old fashioned comfort food. On my world tour I saw roasted bat, pickled snake, skewered frogs, duck eggs (no no the ones with the cute fully developed hatchling inside), all manner of sea food, worms, and the list goes so I’m kinda familiar with the places he goes.

And then it happen.

In stunned amazement I watched Andrew Zimmern gag on a piece of stinky tofu last night. Quicker than Senator Craig can say “I did nothing inappropriate!” Zimmern shoved a fistful of napkins at his mouth to catch the eruption.

“Holy shit Kate I just saw him GAG. Wait, I think he’s going to throw up COME HERE QUICK!” I hollered to my wife from the kitchen. She didn’t know what the crap I was talking about but rushed to the kitchen to see it. “Uh, I can’t believe you watch that…He’s so wierd.” she said.

Who knew an over weight, middle aged bald guy throwing up in Taiwanese stinky tofu joint would “win me over” but he did.

Ok, I will admit, he’d already started to grow on me bit and in the end he’s doing good work. Its travel, its food, its different, I almost had to like it. Plus I think this country could use some sauteed ants and grub. And when you contrast that with the filth that McDonalds peddles, is the chicken ovary and bull testicles really that bad? They guy eating the Big Mac is suffering from syndrome X while the guy eating the ants and termites looks to be in fine health. You be the judge.

What Zimmern gets and what Bourdain gets is that you will never truly understand another culture unless you’re prepared to sit down to dinner with them. The passions, history, memory, culture and the life of a people is embodied in the meals they prepare and eat. Sharing food is the quickest way to break down barriers. Sharing food is the fastest way to friendship. It is intimate and it is human and each episode, Andrew Zimmern reveals this to his audience.

Andrew, you weren’t the first, and undoubtedly you won’t be the last, but keep up the good work. You can now count me as one of your newest fans.

Oh, and apparently, he is the real deal.

http://www.terroircoffee.com

Nice show about coffee on Onpoint.

I should leave this post to my friend Ben but being the eco-friendly beer drinker that I am I can’t resist. The New Belgium Brewery, located in Fort Collins, Colorado, will soon be bottling there Mothership Wit, which, like their other brews (Fat Tire and Blue Paddle) will be shipped on biodiesel trucks and in recycled glass bottles. Cheers to New Belgium!

I would strongly urge anyone interested in things green and sustainable to buy the latest Outside. Its the Green Issue and its chalk full of good stuff.

About three weeks ago I roasted a whole chicken. While preparing the bird I excavated from its abdomen a small gauze bag containing the chicken’s heart, liver and neck and fired the liver in a hot skillet with some butter, Herbs de Provence (Quel dommage!), and to my astonishment it wasn’t half bad. This needed further exploration.

Fast forward to last Thursday. Kate was out and I decided that it was gross food night. On the way home I stopped at the supermarket and picked up a pint of fresh “young” chicken livers and a half dozen Duxbury oysters. The livers were dredged in flour, salt, pepper and tarragon then cooked in a medium hot pan with some corn oil and butter. As I bit into the first one there was a distinct and anxiety provoking feeling that I might be, in an instant, throwing up in my mouth. The half bottle of wine I’d consumed seemed to be making this first time slightly easier. Drinking tends to aid you in those tender moments of inexperience. One bite, two bites, three bites…”Wow. I’m really enjoying this.” I thought to myself.

After killing half the pint of livers and taking in my yearly quota of iron it was time to murder some South Shore bivalves. Normally a “real” New Englander like myself would have an oyster knife on hand but alas, I’ve yet to acquire one so a butter knife would have to do. My Dad later scolded me for not using a screw drive. I felt ashamed.

Anyhow, the first four opened easier than Paris Hilton’s legs but the fifth one was a prude. As good as a freshly shucked oyster is, a shard of the shell can ruin the experience so I was quick to run the clam, knife and my hand under some cold water to wash the chunks away.

At this point I had nearly three quarters of the bottle of white in my stomach. The wine was mingling nicely with the liver but it was an awkward situation as the liver was used to hanging with light beer and cheap whiskey. Conversation was cordial. Wine wanted to talk about Terry Gross’s interview with Natsuo Kirino but she knew Liver wouldn’t understand. Liver thought Wine was cute in a Martha Stewart kind of way but didn’t understand her big words and kept wondering if she might like to turn on the race. They sat quietly and wondered how they had ended up in the same place.

But I digress, back to the shucking. With the knife now wet and slicker than snot on a door knob I bore down on the hilt hoping that scientifically applied bruit force might convince this mollusk to embrace it’s fate and allow me entrance to its fleshy center. This oyster had other plans, he was an insurgent oyster.

With one last push I exerted my all and down the knife my tightly clenched fist raced. Down all the way past the serrated edge (why do flatware companies feel so compelled to put on serrated edges on butter knifes?). And that sinking feeling you get when cold steel races across, or through, your skin swept over me. I clenched my fist and then drip, drip, drip, blood fell into the sink.

“ASS HOLE!” I yelled.

In my hand staring back at me was a cut, deep, ugly, mangled and severe. Ok, fine, with respect to butter knife wounds, deep, ugly, mangled and severe.

If this oyster was not going to cooperate I had other means of persuasion. He begged for a second chance before I placed him and his friend into a hot pan of butter and garlic. They didn’t last long. In a matter of minutes their shells lay agape, fixed in a dead stare at the exhaust fan.

Shortly thereafter the two lifeless oyster corpses hurdled down my neck and landed with a smack on the bridge table Wine had set up. She cried. Liver comforted her in the only way he knew how. His breath was rich and sweat with bourbon. He knew they came from different places but he hugged her tight and ran his stubby fingers through her hair. Slowly she calmed. His eyes were wide. It was then she new he was scared too.

“Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to prosper”

-Benjamin Franklin 18^th century

“Narragansett is further proof that God loves us and wants us to prosper.”

-Me today

Lets be honest, in this day and age of finely crafted micro brewed barely wines, quadruple IPAs, and sour mashed snaggle toothed fish head amber bock bombs, its nice to grab a simple, bland, American style crappy macro brewed domestic once in a while. Makes you feel a little redneck inside. Sure the saying goes “As American as apple pie” but couldn’t that also say “As American as Bud”? .

Since the dawn of time when dinosaurs didn’t exist and the earth was brand new and Mosses was out in the back working on that junky boat he got from his neighbor who was going to throw it out, we Americans reached for domestic suds to quench our thirst and we didn’t have to think much about it. The choice was limited, and you had your favorite which was often dictated by your budget. Lets just say Piels had traction on college campuses at the end of the semester when the timed honored couch harvesting season began.

Those were simple times. Days of care free hours spent leisurely filling out the FASFA forms and strolling the town wondering where you parked last night, a time when your only concern was “Why didn’t someone tell me that archeologists don’t make any money.”

Fast forward to 2005: like a phoenix emerging from the ashes and riding the national wave of patriotism, and the success of Family Guy, and all things by the Farley Brothers and Rhode Island, reemerged Narragansett Beer. Move over Pabst and Schlitz, there’s a new kid on the block and he’s got a fist full of bottle rockets, a sling shot and lots of silly putty. Once affectionately refered to as Nastygansett it was the choice beer during “lean times” in the 50’s and 60’s but sadly faded from the scene in 1981.

The big boys’ (Bud, Miller, et al) message is clear “Yes you can dance, yes your hot and yes that sexy glistening vixen will be making you bacon and eggs tomorrow morning. For a boat load of fame, chicks and a hot body reach for an ice cold (insert macro brewery name here)”, Narragansett’s message is slightly less encouraging but somewhat more comforting. The label suggests “Hey, laundry can wait, no you didn’t spend too much money on food and booze this weekend, yes tomorrow is a much better day to start going to the gym, oh and that hangover is from the Jaeger bombs, not me, definitely not me”.

Actually the logo says “Made on Honor Sold on Merit.” Strikingly bold! If that motto was a movie star it would be jumping on couches, pretending to be straight, marrying child actresses and heading a cult based on space aliens and science fiction novels. Where is Honor by the way?

So yet another label has graced our local packies. Narragansett is here to stay in my opinion. It was quickly picked up by the legendary and delicious Red Bones in Davis Square, Somerville and seems to be the rage! I’m a fan and in my world that means a LOT.

Now for the nitty gritty: I’d characterize the flavor as medium bodied or let’s say “not dry”. And it tastes very much like a regular old American Lager. To bloviate on and on about bouquet, nose, mouth feel, after taste, etc would dishonor the tradition in which this beer was crafted. So to sum up, next time you’re reaching for a cold domestic brew, consider Narragansett.

Issue: Am I a total fool to write such a glowing endorsement of a product that not only I’m not endorsed by or paid to write about but often makes me sick and hung-over? Andy Collins, you capitalist sell out pig!

Disclaimer: Andy Collins is not a capitalist sell out pig. And no, Narragansett did not pay me to write this. Although I would hope beyond hope that if they do read this they might send me a free case. I’d be happy to QA/QC it personally, every last bottle.