Thursday, January 29, 2015

Don't Ever Buy a Scale

At the tender age of 28, I just bought my first scale at Target for $7.99. I ripped it open, tore off all my clothing, jumped on, screamed at the top of my lungs and threw it across the room. I am currently trying to decide whether I should return it to Target for being vulgar or surrender it to the nearest fire station, swaddled in a blanket with a Post-it note that says, "I can't even."

Yes, the struggle is still very real for me.

I was sloppily attempting to diet for most of last year because I was a bridesmaid in two weddings and didn't fit either of the original dresses that the brides intended for me to wear. In short, I am now in possession of four bridesmaids dresses, one of which is permanently stained with pork gristle and am writing a step-by-step guide on how to let back fat ruin your life.

So once wedding season was over with, I really decided to do me and let that back fat fly. After all, bears store fat for the winter, why wouldn't I? Have a look at my dark descent into a path of destruction...

After seeing Bachi Burger in Las Vegas featured on my favorite show, Diners, Drive-In's and Dives, I've had it on my list of restaurants to ugly-cry in while eating. To everyone's dismay, this is precisely what happened.

OXTAIL chili cheese fries. This was the go-to dish I used to make with the remains of my oxen when they would die while traveling along the Oregon Trail, so this dish really brought me back to a special place.

 This Kalbi Burger was truly OUT OF BOUNDS as Guy Fieri would say. The flavor jets were on full blast in the flavor Jacuzzi, so much so that I smeared the contents of the burger onto a flip flop and wore them around for a little bit before enthusiastically shoving them into my yap. I now understand why Guy is so adamant about using delicious foods as condiments for flip flops.

Tsujita Artisan Noodle Annex on Sawtelle is my favorite ramen on planet EARF (and outside of my animated fantasies set in Japan.) I think I blogged about their tsukemen before, I'm not sure. I'm too lazy to look back at it. Shout out to my digestive system for enduring the parade of unchewed noodles that march through it every time I come here. Honestly, who has time to chew?

I went home to the Bay Area for the holidays because my mother requires it. It is also my favorite time to visit because DUNGENESS CRAB is in season at this time.

On Christmas Eve, my family and I feasted on Salt and Pepper Crab at R&G Lounge. And no, I did not go to a Chinese restaurant on Christmas because I am Jewish. We went because we are lazy and this crab shits on gold, frankincense and myrrh and whatever other weird minerals/essential oils those "wise" men decided were proper gifts for an infant.

Saw my friends...that's always a disaster.

During our annual Christmas potluck, I slaved over a stove to make clam chowder with my friend, Jess. I stole the recipe from Hog Island, which is why this looks so elegant.

On another occasion, we decided to reserve a day to sit around and marathon eat with the help of some herbal refreshments.

When I walked into my friends house, she had this gorgeous spread waiting for me. This was breakfast...a dozen donuts, two buck Chuck, E-40's own Sluricane, a cheese and pate platter, Trader Joe's cookies and my the first four books of my new favorite graphic novel series, Saga. Saga is like Star Wars for derelicts.

For lunch, we made crab and garlic noodles served with a side of melted butter and swishers.

For dessert, we begged my brother to go to the store to get ice cream so that we could make donut sundaes. Our creative juices were really flowing when we concocted this beautiful mound of blueberry donut topped with vanilla ice cream.

This day ended with five grown women (two of which were allegedly working from home) eating five bags of gummy bears, getting foot massages at an Asian massage parlor and eating tacos from  what looked like an abandoned shipping container with a makeshift kitchen inside. 

Oakland was never the same after that glorious day.

And I will leave you with some revelations I had about beer the other weekend.

This Belching Beaver Brewery is brewing up some magical stuff. I don't know where their beaver dam is located, but I can only guess that it's located either in Heaven or Tijuana. The Peanut Butter Stout tastes exactly like JIF, with the added bonus of getting you drunk. The Horchata Imperial Stout on the left kind of just tasted like a good stout, not so much horchata. But fuck it, I'll drink whatever a beaver tells me to drink.

Thursday, October 10, 2013

Butchering Pig Heads, Ramen Burgers and Such

I've decided to take a break from online shopping for winter coats that make me look like a smart, highbrow skank like Olivia Pope (Scandal reference--if you don't understand, kill yourself) and am attempting to recount the horrors I've experienced while trying to feed myself. 

I'm sure this topic is passe at this point and I am on the late train (WHAT'S NEW/WHO CARES), but I ate the ramen burger. The original ramen burger from Brooklyn. I'm sure all food nerds are done nutting themselves over this and the rest of the population is generally unimpressed by this feat, but I feel the need to write about this because I waited FOUR HOURS in goddamn TORRANCE in the sweltering heat for this thing. Trust me, I am not proud of this. 

As expected, the line was full of every Asian nerd that is a member of Congress in the United States of Yelp--myself included. It was 9 am and I'd never hung out with my friends this early before and it became awkward, so we started pounding Kirin cans and spam musubi's. 
I think it was around after two hours of waiting in line that I announced that I would go on a rampage if I didn't experience nirvana. 

Luckily, I was too hot, fat and in need of ice cream to put any energy into a public rampage at a Japanese supermarket on a Sunday morning. In short, it sucked. I'm not trying to be mean or knock their hustle because I respect hustlin' to the highest degree, but take a look at what I had versus what I was expecting. 


The point is, be weary of internet sensation hybrid foods and Instagram filters and DO NOT WAIT IN LINE FOR ANYTHING FOR FOUR HOURS. THIS IS WHY I HATE DISNEYLAND!!!

So, I have discovered the endless joys of Mexican supermarkets and have discovered what I believe to be the Whole Foods of Mexican supermarkets--NORTHGATE MARKET! They are a chain throughout Southern California and I have become a regular at the one in Boyle Heights. 

I was perusing the meat section one day when I came across a pig head for $11 and threw that thing in my cart and punted it into the trunk of my car as any other Filipino with half a brain would do. 

If there's one thing I've learned from my trips to the motherland, it's that proper pork sisig can only be achieved by making it with the face of a pig. This pig head inspired the Lapu Lapu (the  guy who allegedly killed Ferdinand Magellan aka the Filipino equivalent of Conan) in me to cook a Filipino feast since I never eat Filipino food anymore. 

Everything looks sexier in a cast iron skillet and with a fried egg in the middle. Something to keep in mind if you are planning to take nude photos anytime soon. 

Lumpia. Basically egg rolls without all those bullshit vegetables.

Kare Kare. It's basically oxtail swimming in peanut butter and veggies. I highly recommend slow cooking oxtail in a crock pot. I plan on making oxtail tacos very soon. 


In preparation for my upcoming trip to Paris, I also made beef bourguignon. This was the only inspiration that I took away from that cinematic abortion, Julia and Julia. The recipe said to use a good dry wine, so naturally, I looked for something with monkeys on the label. I paired it with quinoa because it is rumored that quinoa is healthier than bread and at the moment, I am pretending that I value health. 

On a classier note, my friend Mimi took a special trip to Jamaica and I threatened her every single day before she left so that she would bring me back JAMAICAN BEEF PATTIES. 

Diligent, well-placed threats can get you very far in life. These patties are a testament to that...SO GOOD. 

I aspire to travel to Jamaica indefinitely and get an internship with a Jamaican patty specialist and get impregnated by a Marley. If anyone can have this arranged, please contact me. 

Monday, August 26, 2013

My Favorite Things: San Francisco and Chicken Wings

It's always good to get out of LA for a bit because it's relaxing to get away from the chaos and traffic, but really, my respiratory system requires relief from the toxins floating about in the atmosphere from time to time. My favorite retreat is my homeland of San Francisco because I appreciate when municipalities adopt laissez-faire attitudes toward open-container laws. I can think of fewer things more liberating than drinking in public without being harassed or fined. The only thing better than this is probably drinking in public while nude, which is also legal in San Francisco. 

My most recent trip to SF started off with me forcing my little brother to take me directly to Turtle Tower's location in SOMA. It is conveniently located across from the county jail, which only means that there are plenty of eligible bachelors in the area. Aside from that, I love this pho more than anything. As Rich Homie Quan would say, handmade noodles make me feel some type of way.

I don't care what anyone says, good soup is meant to be eaten with your hands. 
After submerging my head in a bowl of soup and sucking it dry with my nostrils, I was parched. My brother and I headed down the street to 21st Amendment to pre-game for the Giant's game. For some reason, I end up here every time I come home because I want the Hell or High Watermelon Wheat Beer on draft but they are ALWAYS sold out. But not this time. The beer gods were ever in my favor that day and it was weird, because beer gods normally hate me.


I love the Giants and the Crazy Crab'z sandwich at AT&T Park is responsible for at least 80% of my love. Pablo Sandoval's sweet bod in that uniform is responsible for the other 20%. I've written sonnets about this sandwich on here before, but this sandwich deserves to be praised daily. I had one and split another one with my friend, Erika. This was after we took customary thizz face pictures in front of the field in honor of Mac Dre's birthday.


Get it, boo. 
I cracked my phone screen and lost my ATM card this glorious night. Had this not happened, I would have had the best day of my life. I understand that Jesus does not like to send me mixed signals about restoring my faith in his mercy for me--so I believe he did this to keep me check. Well played, Jesus.

The next day, I made my pilgrimage to Dolores Park so that I could sit in the grass with my pals and essentially sit there until we rot. This is just what the youth of San Francisco do--drink in parks until they reach paralysis.

An array of nutritious delicacies: Acme baguette, Cowgirl Creamery Mt. Tam, Gioia Burrata and some sort of organic salami from Applegate.

My friend, Gabby made this gorgeous card for her mother's 49th birthday. It is pure genius to say the least. 
I eventually left the city. It was a very upsetting goodbye since I pine for it everyday and leaving is the equivalent of cutting off my own umbilical cord. I reluctantly went back to LA and consoled myself the only effective way that I knew how. CHICKEN WINGS. Chicken wings solve everything. What is the pythagorean theorem? I don't know it off the top of my head, but I'm sure the answer is CHICKEN WINGS. I just googled it and it relates to triangles, which is the shape of a drumstick in a once again, I am right and smart people are wrong about me.

Here is some spank bank material from California Wings Cafe in Hollywood. We wandered here after braving a pool party at Drai's on an exceptionally hot Saturday afternoon. I'm terrified of pool parties at hotels, so I was in a traumatic state.

My password for my work computer was "hotwings69" at one point. 
Once this picture stops being creepy, it starts to become compelling. Thus, art is born. I'm selling prints for $500.00. 
Okay, it's almost 11 o'clock and that means I need to sleep or else I will be completely useless and unattractive tomorrow and I can't be that two days in a row. 

Saturday, June 29, 2013

TOUR DE CARNE ASADA FRIES and other classy things I've been doing

I wish that I could say that I haven't posted anything in over a year because I've been away building houses for orphans in Botswana or busy with my new internship at a taqueria, but I cannot truthfully admit that. I just assumed nobody read blogs anymore and dedicated my life to watching every season of Breaking Bad, Sons of Anarchy and Game of Thrones instead. If you know anything about any of those three shows, you know that the plot lines are incredibly stressful, so it's been very taxing on my psyche and as a result, it has stunted my creativity and ability to form sentences that aren't threats.

Anyhow, I am back and proud/sad to announce that after two months of dieting--I am fat again. One debouched weekend in San Diego that my friend Jess and I dubbed as "TOUR DE CARNE ASADA FRIES" reversed two months of sloppily attempting to eat paleo and exercise in about two hours. I'm still not sure if I feel any remorse since I value carbs and cheese more than only having one chin. The only thing I value more than carbs and cheese are photos of carbs and cheese that I'd eaten and showing them off on the internet. 

First off, I do not recommend the night life in San Diego because you will get photo bombed by people that wear shirts like this. 

What a lovely array of courtesans.
Since the purpose of this visit was to eat as many carne asada fries as humanly possible, we hit up a shady Mexican restaurant drive thru at 3:30 am to acquire these puppies. They weren't the best since they were the only ones available at that hour and they kind of look like chorro, which I've learned is the Spanish term for diarrhea. 

Luckily, San Diego is a thousand times more charming in the day time. We went to Hash House A Go Go since Yelp was reporting long wait times and fancy fried chicken dishes, which can only mean this place is glorious. We ordered fried chicken waffle towers, fried chicken benedicts and pancakes that I mistook for delicious sleeping bags. 

Comically large Maple Banana Pancakes. They emasculated everyone in the room. 
We spent the rest of the day at the beach, drinking and riding bikes because that's legal and all. The sun eventually went down and we realized that we hadn't consumed nearly enough asada fries and too many Straw-Ber-Rita's, so we went on a ravenous hunt for asada fries.

Look back at it.

Lolita's Taco Shop was without question the best of the three and is definitely in my top two of all time. The Instagram filter in this photo doesn't quite capture the magic of the cheese and the other accoutrement, but that magical pile of calories was THE JUAN. 

Scallop taco heaux. 

Our last stop was El Zarape because we read that they had lobster burritos and scallop tacos. Unfortunately, they discontinued their lobster option because it was too ballin for them. The scallop tacos were off the hook and the fries were not too shabby since they used straight up nacho cheese. Or they could have all been bad because I was exceptionally wasted at this point. 

We spontaneously attended a drag show at the bar next door, got confused and then left San Diego. TOUR DE ASADA FRIES was a rousing success and I am glad to announce that I will be making it an annual event. Eating carne asada fries is officially my favorite sport next to eating hot dogs at baseball games. 

For some reason, I went to Disneyland the next day after getting two hours of sleep because I obviously hate myself and will do anything to hang out with my friend Jess when she is in town because I am desperate for Chinese companionship. The only thing Disneyland has going for it are the snacks. I'm pretty sure my uterus shriveled up and died after being around all those screaminass babies all day. I think the government should routinely send teenaged girls to Disneyland to discourage them from getting pregnant. I am now barren from the experience. The snacks, however, were the only thing that prevented me from crying the entire time. 

The Chili Cone Carne was well worth the billions of dollars that went into erecting the new Cars Land. It's a bread cone filled with chili, cheese and Fritos. Whoever dreamed up this symphony might as well have shat on Mozart's grave. 

The main reason I agreed to go to Disneyland was because my friend, Mimi promised to buy me a HOT LINK corndog. Nothing motivates me more than the promise of a good sausage. Well, Mimi came through on her promise because she is a down ass bitch and I would have killed her. It was hands down THE BEST CORN DOG I HAVE EVER EXPERIENCED IN MY LIFE. If you want your life to change for the better--eat this thing

I highly suggest the tsukemen at Tsujita LA Artisan Noodle Annex in West LA. I'm pretty critical when it comes to ramen since I think everything pales in comparison to Daikokuya, but this place is pretty special. I just really love fat, porky broths and fresh noodles.

Lastly, I am a very classy and grown lady. I got Hello Kitty champagne bottle service at an Alice in Wonderland themed bar called Rabbit Hole last night. A man who was clearly very jealous was heckling at us for drinking Hello Kitty champagne and then proceeded to fart next to our table and walk away. Luckily my boyfriend chased down the jealous fart bandit and confronted him about farting in the presence of such sophisticated ladies. Of course, he denied it but you know what they say--whoever denied it supplied it! 

I promise to write more especially since I am on the cusp of becoming an artisan sausage maker. I haven't made any yet, but I've been thinking about it...A LOT. 

Sunday, April 22, 2012


No, you are not dreaming. Indeed, your dreams have just come true--I am updating this blog.

Yes, it was selfish of me to stop posting up all the disgusting things that I weaken my immune system with. I accept all responsibility for any mental breakdowns that my absence has caused to most of the earth's population. It was not my intention to cause mass devastation, but my cat, Angus has been chewing on my laptop charger and it has compromised its charging abilities. Don't worry, I am devising a plan of punishment that will make both Angus and PETA fatally shit themselves.

Allow me to molest your senses with the latest and greatest in culinary delights. First and foremost, I want to announce that once again, I've fallen in love at 711. As you all know, I have not been the same since they discontinued the Cheesy Spinach Dip Taquito in the Fall of 2004. I guess 711 took my desperate cries into consideration when they decided to open up a 711 three blocks away from me and stock them with JAMAICAN BEEF PATTIES.

I asked the kind fellow who was managing the hot dog roller if the yellow things were empanadas, but to my shock he said they were Jamaican beef patties. I instantly slammed my fists on the counter and screamed at the top of my lungs, "I'LL TAKE TWELVE!!" I then made him throw them directly into my mouth with his tongs and then ran out without paying a dime. After all, 711 owes me somewhere around 6 figures in damages for the heartbreak they caused me when they discontinued my beloved Cheesy Spinach Dip Taquitos. Don't ever break a fat girls heart. 

This is not news, but it would be wrong to not acknowledge the birth of this decades fast food Messiah. I did not think that the genius stoners at Taco Bell could outdo the Beefy Crunch burrito, but it was dumb of me to underestimate the level of their genius. I tell you, these guys could do nothing but fart on an IQ test and still score higher than Stephen Hawking.

THE DORITOS LOCOS TACO! I have to admit that my friend and I drove up and down highway 5 searching for the test locations in California's methiest towns for these. Unfortunately, we never found them but the wait only made the experience more meaningful and passionate.

Spicy tuna, yellowtail, salmon, and scallop hand rolls from Hama Sushi in Little Tokyo. I don't give a shit if I've already written about this place because I cannot stress enough how delightful these hand rolls are. Jesus and Godzilla live underneath the sushi bar and roll these themselves using psychokinesis.

Watching illegal amounts of the Food Network and the Cooking Channel has lead me to develop a cooking addiction and personality disorder in which I've confused myself into believing I am a cross between Michael Symon and every contestant in the history of Chopped. So I've been (successfully) trying to grow a soul patch and have been banned from every Sur La Table location in Southern California for dry humping Le Creuset cookware sets.

I made meatballs and had an Italian versus Swedish throwdown against myself. Whole Foods ran out of ground veal because they are a bunch of amateurs, so I had to settle for ground beef and ground pork. Threw in some bacon and I was back in business. Sweden swept Italy by a landslide because of my genius use of Strauss heavy cream and lingonberries trumped my decision to use marinara in a jar. I love to hand myself victories.

Buying a roasting thermometer has definitely been the most adult purchase that I have made thus far. It resulted in me making this glorious rib roast. Making a beautiful roast for ones self is the most fulfilling feeling ego and stomach had never experienced such nirvana.


Do yourself a favor and go to Din Tai Fung in Arcadia or Santa Anita or wherever the fuck this place is. XIAO LONG BAO. ALL DAY. ERRYDAY. I ate this two days in a row this week because I mistakenly thought both days were my birthday. My birthday is in November.

I went to Coachella again last week and these are the only two acceptable photos for public viewing. If you were there, you may have recognized me as the inebriated Samoan of questionable gender in jorts, sprinting from tent to tent with fists full of glowsticks and churros. All great weekends start with sippy cups full of Ciroc Obamas.

I will leave you with this wonderful photo to ponder.