Vol. 37: Taco Bell's XXL Nachos

According to the file date on this picture I took, I ate these, like, almost two weeks ago.  And haven’t written about them yet.  Yeah, I’m slacking, especially since I’ve made another two posts since then.  Life happens and/or I’m a slacker.

So I’ve seen them several times on the windows of Taco Bell as I drove by, and told myself, “Self!  That’s creative photography.  The XXL Nachos aren’t going to be that big.  Just a fancy version of a Nachos BellGrande.”  That’s what I said, at least, until I got the order and they had to bust out a special bag and hold it sideways to get it through the tiny drive through window.  Observe:

 XXL Nacho Glory

There’s no camera tricks in that shot.  My pinky is actually touching the plastic base.  These things are friggin’ huge quite large by fast food portion standards.   I’d bet two “normal people” could share an order and be quite happy with the results, and there’s no shortage of cheese, both nacho and shredded. 

Just make sure you wash your hands, first.  Or be a preppy wuss and use a fork. 

I know you’re probably expecting some enlightening and witty commentary on how good they are.  Well, for Taco Bell, they’re pretty danged good.  The fact that there’s over a pound on that tray lends itself absolutely no bias to my gluttonous opinion.  The truth of the matter is, it’s standard chips, TB guac, sour cream, TB “beef” (or steak or chicken, depending on which one you order), sour cream, refried beans, nacho cheese sauce, the cheddar/jack shredded blend, and some fancy-lookin’ pico de gallo. 

If you didn’t like Taco Bell beforehand, this isn’t going to be some manna-from-heaven specially blended mixture that’ll convert you into a tacobellian.  (For that, go to Salsarita’s.)  On the other hand, if you are already a semi-regular partaker of the Fourthmeal, and like nachos, then this needs to be on your to-try list.  Eat all the goodies.  All of them.  THINK OUTSIDE THE BUN.  And all that noise.

Key differences between the XXL Nachos and the BellGrande:

1.)  Guac and pico come STANDAD on the XXL.  (Shout-out to CrandyBole for pointing out the typo.  -Ed.)

2.)  There’s like, a pantload more in the XXL.

3.)  They’re called “XXL Nachos” in an attempt to make you feel fatter than saying BellGrande.*  Cuz, that’s like, two more extras than the Spanish word for “big” alone.  (Pfft.  Silly mortals, thinking that would dissuade me.)

4.)  The tomatoes aren’t spread around on the XXL, but rather clustered into a scoop of pico.  That doesn’t bother me, as it allows for more controlled mater distribution on a per-chip basis. 

5.)  NEITHER OF THEM HAVE GREEN ONIONS.  (wtf, TB?  Get with the game.  Bring them back!)

*this statement is not approved or endorsed by whatever Buttweasel Legalhonker at Taco Bell wants to sue me for making false claims.  Get a sense of humor.

And, for you skinny-no-appetite-having types out there, the XXL’s are $4.99 for an order.  Split it with a friend and it’s two fifty apiece.  Can’t beat that.  Those of you that can actually finish a Triple Baconator (fancy link) might want to get a MexiMelt to go with it.

The Verdict

4/5.  Pretty big and pretty good value for the money, considering the hefty amount of toppings piled on.  If they jack it up too much higher, though, it’ll fall to a 3.  Because, when all is said and done, it is still Taco Bell.  This does not mean that I have not eaten them several times already.

Broke Bloke Gourmet: Spicy Tuna Nachos

It’s about that time, folks… time for me to share a bit of the culinary MacGyver-ing that I’ve been up to in the last month week.  Actually, I made this a few nights ago, but just haven’t gotten around to posting it up.  Because I’m lazy like that. 

This last Friday night, I found myself hungry, with no real possibilities in sight.  The only things that were sticking out in my pantry as not moldy or expired “edible” were a can of tuna and half a bag of tortilla chips.  Thus was the birth of…

Spicy Tuna Nachos!!!

Don't knock them before you try them.  I don't post my failed experiments (like the gin martini with hot dog water instead of olive brine) here, unless it's pointed mockery.  So here’s the dealie-o.

 yeah, yeah, so nearly everything in the picture is from Wal*Fart, gimme a break

Step 1:  Artfully arrange your tortilla chips on a plate so that they’re not overlapping much, but close enough together so that no large white spaces are showing through.  This is best done with care, and not dumping them on a plate and shaking it.  Which works, but your nachos will just suck.

Dump a small apocalypse of cheese onto the chips, as illustrated above.

the cup was for the tuna water.  mmmmm.   tuna water

Step 2:  Drain the tuna into a cup.  I meant the tuna water, not the actual fish.  Drink said tuna water.  Engage in salty fishy yummy noises of delight that mimic porn stars clydesdales in heat.  Okay, I suppose that part is optional.

Anyway, once your tuna is good and properly drained, drop little bits here and there around your nachoey-ness.  In the picture above, I only used about 1/3 of a “normal”-sized can of tuna, so your mileage may vary on how many plates of Spicy Tuna Nachos of Amazingness you’ll get out of a single can.

 more cheese

Step 3:  MOAR CHEEZ!!!

Then pop the sumbiotch into the microwave and nuke it for approximately 30 seconds or until cheese is melted.  Radiation cookers differ by wattage, so take that into consideration with your zapping time by consulting the chart below:

Wattage              Cook Time

=====              =======

1200W              26 seconds

1100W              30 seconds

1000W              34 seconds

900W                1.2 hours

please consult manufacturer instructions

before following these cook times.

Step 4:  Now that the highly dangerous cooking phase is completed, you can apply an artistic drizzle of your roommate’s hot salsa over the top.  Make sure to follow the precise pattern outlined above exactly to ensure maximum flavor.  Failure to do so will result in your death by tonsil cancer.  Or something.

And, last but not least….. GO EAT THEM ALREADY!!!

Vol. 36: Pizza Hut's Overstuffed Supremo Pizza

So, for real, I’m not even gonna beat around the bush on this one.

This is, by far, the biggest disappointment Pizza Hut has crapped out launched in the past several years.  After launching and then almost immediately yanking the P’zolos from my market area?  Argh!!

Now, don’t get me wrong.  I love my Pizza Hut.  (See fancy link, here.)  And I’ll freely admit that has made me somewhat biased.  But this?  This isn’t a matter of opinion on pan vs. thin vs. original crust, or pepperoni vs. sausage (the correct answer is “sausage,” anyway), or any of the multitudes of other possibilities that can turn a pizza from “amazing” to a chewy case of toe jam “mediocre.”   

This is just bull honkey pathetic execution.  No two ways about it.  In fact, let me count the ways.

 The initial product shot

At first glance, this looks to be pretty good.  That’s part of the reason I got it in the first place, thinking to myself, “Hey, Self who should really eat a salad instead!  This looks like a gigantic P’zone!  That’s AWESOME!”  It smells good, too.  Don’t be fooled by it’s siren’s song of deceit.

 Further down the rabbit hole

Then you start eating it.  For the first several bites, you’ll try and convince yourself that, oh, I’m just at the beginning, it’s mostly crust because it’s that stuffed thing, and I’ll have to get to where the crust opens up to get to the goodies” – like this is a dollar Hot Pocket and not a $13+ pizza – except the crust never f%&$ing opens up.  Don’t believe me?  I ripped apart the slice out of sheer frustration to reveal the following male bovine fecal matter disappointment.

 WTF.  For real?  I wish there was a rabbit in here.

There’d be more meat.

Really.  Really??  THIS is what constitutes “overstuffed?”  This barely even qualifies as “stuffed.”  Unless you want to say it’s stuffed with more crust.  What.  The.  Hell.

The whole breadth of that slice, and there’s one squirt of sauce and an onion?  Oh, and one pepper over there somewhere?  Where’s the friggin’ beef?  Hell, where’s the friggin’ anything but crust?  This is the kind of stunt I’d expect Red Baron to pull.  Or Tony’s.  Or some other frozen pizza brand.  Not what I expect from Pizza Hut, and certainly not what I expect to spend more than I would on a regular large pizza on. 

Get your s#!% crap together, Hut Peeps.  This level of weaksauce is not very enamoring.  I’m not even finishing slice number two – and that’s not because I tore the other slices up looking for meat, or cheese, or hell, even sauce, anything but friggin’ crust. 

It’s because I don’t feel like eating an over-glorified breadstick.

Oh, and because I’m supposed to find something positive?  Here’s a positive.  It’s not greasy.  It’s not greasy because there’s nothing delicious to create grease in or on it.

The Verdict

2/5.  This only gets a two because, if it was lying around and I was hungry, yes, I probably would eat it.  After doctoring it up and cussing whomever ordered it out for wasting their money.  Get a $10 large any way you want it and give the rest to the delivery guy if you want.

Vol. 34: Domino's New Pan Pizza

So I forgot to take a lunch to work the other day.  And, naturally, I was starving within minutes of arrival.  This is nothing new.  Not being entirely sure of what I wanted to eat, however, is somewhat new.  Ish.

After perusing a number of online menus, I stumbled across an advertisement for Domino’s new Pan Pizza.  Crustless, with two layers of cheese and toppings all the way to the edge.  It aroused me piqued my interest.  And yes, I’ve been informed this has been advertised on television for weeks.  I don’t have TV, so I didn’t know.  Don’t judge me.  

The bottom line is I had completed the order for a $7.99 medium unicorn & rainbow sausage and mushroom pie before I realized I had even picked my toppings.  There was a minor incident where I nearly peeled a coworker’s face off with my teeth out of hunger because it took almost an hour to arrive - although, in Domino’s defense, it did say that it would take 56-66 minutes on the order confirmation - but that particular crisis was averted through the judicious application of Nutty Bars to my face.

And then, it had arrived, and there was much lewd pelvic thrusting rejoicing.  Or both.

On the box, I couldn’t help but notice the following:

At first glance, this box topper may illustrate why it took a sodding hour to get my grub, and appear to be nothing more than soliciting employees from their established customer base.  Fine, right?  Except the last bullet point, where it says “Hustling is a must.”

Really, Domino’s?  I’m all down for making your paper however you can and getting ahead of The Man, but I’d feel kind of awkward if Huggy Bear delivered my pizza.  I’m just sayin’.  Especially when it is immediately followed with “Domino’s Pizza is a drug free environment.”  Trying to find a drug-free hustla?  Next they’ll want an honest politician.  (Zing!)

Inside the actual box

Upon returning to my desk, I opened the box and molested inhaled a slice before realizing what had happened.  This is evidenced in the above picture, which shows that they weren’t kidding - there’s plenty of crispy burnt cheese on the edges (which is, like, foodie porn) and it has a nice balance of toppings and cheese distribution.  Oh, and sauce.  Yeah, that stuff.  The red stuff that makes it easier to swallow.  

As for the dough, I was pleasantly surprised.  This pan pizza could seriously give the legendary Pizza Hut pan pizza a run for the money.  Not only is it nicely flavored and textured, but the bottom retains its crispy texture without swimming in grease like its obvious competitor’s.  Not that the box-soaking grease levels are a bad thing.  It’s like grub lube.  But after eight or nine slices, it tends to get a bit much.  Which is why I’m giving the crust points to Domino’s.  Shockingly.

Also, Domino’s has better mushrooms than Pizza Hut.  The rest of the toppings, however, are individually up for debate.  As is the cheese.  And sauce.  In short, they’ve raised the bar up to meet and/or exceed the expectations set by the arguably best chain pan pizza around.  As for Papa John’s joke of a pan pizza?  It can’t hold a candle.


The Verdict
4/5.  At the price it is, it’s a steal.  However, that’s probably just an introductory promo price, which will go up later.  With that in mind, I’m classifying this a four.  I can’t in good faith say that I’d pay more than Pizza Hut’s offerings for a similar pizza.  Pizza Hut better take notice of this one, though.

The Broke Bloke Gourmet: Let's Go Tupperware Diving!

suggested by Deena716.  Props be to her.

Sometimes, one of the most frightening things you can do is open your refrigerator.

Opening some of those plastic containers without proper protection, including (but not limited to) plastic gloves, respirators, goggles, and a full biochemical warfare suit, can result in anything from nauseating smells and loss of appetite to a full-blown mutant broccoli monster attack.

So, natch, I’m gonna go through a few ways to use some of those tidbits up, jazz ‘em up, and provide some helpful tips on chowing down on your leftovers before they turn into a 1950’s B-movie cast member.

Hambooger Helper

So, this one’s actually pretty easy.  According to the website, there are 27 varieties of Hamburger Helper currently in circulation.  It’s easy to get rid of these morsels, since they all taste like the same thing – salty goopy crap grown-up Chef Boyardee.  Which means you can do pretty much anything with it to resuscitate it or stretch it out again.  Here are some of my quick fixes.

·         spread butter/margarine on a hoagie roll, add garlic powder, and grill in a skillet until golden brown.  Smother the whole thing with Hambooger Helper that’s been zapped in microwave and eat it open-faced, or go greedy and eat it like a fancified sloppy joe.

·         Add the leftovers (nuked to heat through, of course) to a pot of Kraft Side Dish (I refuse to call it “dinner” on principle).  Seriously.  This works with any flavor of Double H and also makes your Side Dish last for a little more than two servings.  ‘Cuz we all know they’re smoking Skittles when they make those serving sizes.

·         stir it in to your leftover mashed potatoes and pretend it’s a Wawa bowl top it off with shredded cheese before zapping it in the nuker.

Leftover Cooked Chicken

How directly the hell did you manage to wind up with leftovers of this?  I could go on a completely separate diatribe on this topic.  Matter of fact, I think I will in the next installment of The Snarky Eyebrow.  Look for the fancy link here when it’s posted. 

Kraft Side Dish

Even though I mentioned it above, this deserves its own special segment.  This has got to be the easiest leftover to work with since plain white rice.  You can literally put almost anything into Kraft Side Dish.  Except toes.  Don’t ask, just trust me.  Frozen peas & carrots?  A can of tuna?  Congratulations, you just made ghetto Tuna Casserole.  Leftover lunch meat?  No problem. 

Seriously, you can even skip the heating-up step and crumble it over a green salad in place of cheese.  Before you look at me like I’m crazy, try it.  Soon you’ll be telling your friends to stop looking at you like you’re crazy.

(That’s best with Italian dressing, by the way.)

Personal favorite add-ins:

• can of tuna (with or without peas & carrots)
• quartered pepperoni slices
• MOAR CHEEZ
• Lay’s original potato chips (trust me)

Or if you’re willing to do a little more work, you can mix it well with leftover hash browns, smoosh it by hand to form patties, and fry ‘em up on a griddle to make your own cheesy tots.

Have a suggestion for a topic?  Something unidentifiable in the back of your fridge?  Submit it in the comments below, and I promise I won’t ignore it.  But only because I have no life to speak of.

Vol. 33: 7-Eleven's Smoked Turkey & Jack Cheese Sandwich

Let’s be honest.  At some point, we’re all wishing we had a quick bite to eat while we’re dashing back and forth between the various places, appointments, tricks, work, home, whatever in our daily lives where we wish we could snag a bite to eat.  And not always is there a restaurant or fast food joint open.  Thus, we’re stuck with either a.) driving all the way home and fixing something, or b.) all-night convenience store food.

The former isn’t always feasible.  The latter isn’t always edible.

A while back, I’ll freely admit, 7-Eleven’s sandwiches sucked like Lisa Lampanelli in an NBA locker room were terrifyingly awful.  Dry, flavorless, and depending on the situation, you may or may not get to put condiments on them.  Choking one down without a flavored beverage of some kind was an ordeal you’d soon rather forget. 

Then they finally realized, “ohai, R sandwichz blow.”  Which is a good thing.  That they realized it.  Not that... oh, sod it, you get the idea.

Observe this, the flagship of their lineup:

Smoked Turkey & Jack Cheese on Wheat

First and foremost, I’d like to point out the last two words in that caption.  “On Wheat.”  Yes, I said wheat.  Not white, French, Italian, four-cheese, ciabatta, focaccia, none of that delicious stuff.  WHEAT.  Yes, I’m voluntarily purchasing (and consuming, no less) a sandwich served on wheat bread.  And no, I’m not complaining about it, either.

Why?  Because this thing is frickin’ amazing.  Here, they’re $3.99 a pop, and worth the whole lot.  If it jumped to $4.99, possibly even $5.99, I’d still get it.  Yeah, I said it.  The wheat bread is soft without disintegrating or being soggy, the turkey is juicy and tender and flavorful, the Jack cheese – get this! – actually tastes like Monterey Jack, and it’s crowned off with a zippy Southwestern Mayo which adds just a hint of spice.  On the Taco Bell scale, it ranks somewhere in the vicinity of “just below Mild” on the heat index, so those who don’t want a volcano in between their buns (that’s what she said) can rest easy.  The lettuce adds just the right amount of crunch and textural difference to make the sandwich fly as a whole. 

Oh, by the by, each half has more meat on it than a whole $5 footlong at Subway.  I checked. 

And they’re delivered fresh every single day, as far as I can tell.  I’ve never seen a sandwich older than “delivered this morning” on the shelves.  And I spend far, far too much time in 7-Eleven to be healthy.  Let’s just say the employees at the one by my house know me on a first-name basis.  And my daughter.  And that my daughter likes Wild Cherry Slurpees.  And my cigarette brand, flavor, and pack preferences.  I could go on, but I think you get the picture. 

In short, unless you’re vegetarian or vegan (and if you are, why are you reading this blog?  No, seriously.  I’m curious.  Please leave it in the comments below), you need to get your hands on one of these ‘wiches next time you’re at Sleven.  Seriously.  Your colon will thank you.

The Verdict

5/5.  I’d still buy these if the price went up.  However, that’s not a suggestion, if you’re reading this, Sleven Corporate Drones. 

Vol. 32: Great Value Fish Sticks

So I’ve been on a fish stick craze recently.  Don’t ask me why.  They’re not exactly the best thing on the planet and don’t hold a candle to real fried fish.  Hell, I couldn’t even tell you what fish these sticks come from.  Last time I checked, fish have sticks like chickens have nuggets.

I can’t find the nugget on a chicken, either.

The problem I have with fish sticks is they’re too damn munchable.  Like popcorn or infant ears.  The fillets?  Those you feel like you’ve actually eaten something.  Sticks?  Not so much.

So I was looking for an alternative for these:

….which are awesome.  Plus, Gorty’s kind of cute.  Which is totally a reason to purchase food.  Then why, you might ask, was I looking for an alternative?  To that, I direct you to the newest segment.  My behind is broke.  These fish sticks are like, five bucks for eighteen.  But you can trust the Gorton’s fisherman.  Who probably looks nothing like the box.  (Who is, reportedly, the grandfather of one of the founders of the company when it was still John Pew & Sons Fishery, and was named Angus.  True data.)

You don’t want to know how fast I can go through 18 fish sticks.  Let’s just say it’s “less than one sitting.”

So, of course, when I was shopping at Wal*Mart and came across their Great Value Fish Sticks, I was leery.  Some of the Great Value products are decent and some of them taste like diseased monkey carcass are not so good.  But, for the sake of junk food science, I had to jump in, fins first.

 Note the absence of product close-ups and fishermen.  This is suspect.

The first thing I noticed was this box of a gazillion cost less than the box of Gorty’s eighteen.  This was either going to be a good thing or a bad thing.  Appearance-wise, there wasn’t too much difference, but then again, I didn’t hold them side by side.  I did notice there was a lot more breading crumbles in the Great Value box.  They smelled frozen.

  

Half the box.  I’ll save you the counting.  It’s 28.

So I unceremoniously dump and arrange half the box onto a cookie sheet.  Yes, I know the image is displayed above, you twerp.  Some people read this blog via email and don’t get the images.  SO THERE. 

I digress.  Half the box is already way more than Gorty’s (Angus’?) had in it.  There wasn’t a discernible size difference between them, either.  That’s what she said.  Eighteen minutes at 425 later, I was sitting down with my plate – yes, I fit them all on one plate – full of fish sticks. 

With ketchup.  Or catsup.  Or catchup.  Ketsup.  What the hell ever, you get the idea.

Truth be told, Gorty’s sticks are slightly firmer.  (lolz.)  A little bit crunchier, but other than that?  The minor differences between the two do not make up for the absurd difference in cost.  Four bucks and change for 18, or three dollars and change for ten zillion?  No contest. 

Every once in a while, Great Value knocks one out of the park.  This might not be a home run, but it’s at least a triple play.  I think that’s a baseball reference.  And I think it was used properly.  You get the idea.

The Verdict

4/5.  The value per-dollar when compared to the major brand (which should be called Angus’ Fisherman) is mind-boggling.  Quality is comparable.  Obviously, if they wanted to charge the same amount per-stick, I’d grab the yellow box.  But since it’s close to a five-to-one stick ratio for less money?  Pfft.

Introducing the Broke Bloke Gourmet

There’s no way for me to hide that I love junk food.  The problem with loving relationship, however, is that it costs money.  Money is something that we don’t always have, particularly right before payday (now).  Of course, I’m not the only one with this particular combination of loves and lack of money, so I’m starting a new segment on The Junk Food Junkie – the Broke Bloke Gourmet.

Or, at least, that’s what it’s being called right now.  I reserve the right to change it at any time with or without giving a crap advanced notice.

Here’s where I’ll share some of my crazy-delicious and just plain crazy concoctions I’ve made during dry spells between proper junk food binges.  I’d love to say this is going to be a weekly spot, but that’s laughable who knows if I’ll be reliable enough to stick to that schedule. 

Without further ado, I give you the first entry:  Freezer Breakfast Sliders.

Ingredients

2 Eggo Cinnamon Toast waffles

4 Banquet Brown ‘n Serve sausage patties (I like original, but whatev)

1 slice cheese, quartered

Preparation

Start up your sausage patties however you feel like doing them.  For a quickie, I do these in the microwave – four patties in an 1,100 watt oven take just over a minute.  I put them on a paper towel, zap them on high for 45 seconds, then put one of the mini-squares of cheese on each one for the last 20 seconds. 

Put waffles in the toaster.  Turn it on.  Don’t light things on fire.

When the waffles are popped, tear them into their little bread-shaped quarters, place one sausage patty with cheese on top, and crown it with another waffle toast thing.  Drizzle with syrup, if desired.

Yield:  4 sliders

Servings:  ½

Deliciousness:  4 pork snickerdoodles out of 5 possible apple pies

These tiny little nuggets of joy are wonderful, and a great way to use up the last couple of waffles or patties in a box that aren’t enough to make a full breakfast.  The only problem?  They are sliders.  Which means you need to make like, forty to get full up.  Okay, perhaps you skinny types “normal” people might not, but I do.  They make a good snack, anyway.

Blatant Self-Promotion:

Have a suggestion to be reviewed by the Junk Food Junkie?

Got a better name than Broke Bloke Gourmet?  Impossible.

Want to share your own semi-junk concoctions?

Leave them in a comment, below, or as a comment on The Junk Food Junkie on Facebook or Google Plus!

Vol. 31: Stouffer’s Southwest-Style Chicken Panini

So, frozen food hasn’t been doing so hot on the JFJ lately.  It might just start giving people the impression that I’m just a picky bastard too much of an aficionado to be an impartial judge.  Or maybe that I’ve just eaten too dang much of it to properly assess the contents of a freezer box “meal.”

Unto them, I say go lick a squirrel tail nay, and henceforth I shall prove it.

Also, ads.  Hell, I gots to get paid somehow, right?

Today’s adventure was from Stouffer’s, which I’ve always thought of as “rich people TV dinners.”  Of course, compared to Banquet and Michelina’s, everything but ramen seems expensive.  But I splurged, because I was an idiot and went grocery shopping while starving, and that is just never a good idea.  ‘Course, these days, that seems to be the case more often than not.  (Being hungry, not being an idiot, you jerks.)

Without further ado:

The Official Photo

The prepared version  - with Taco Bell size reference (TBSR)

Now, with something called “Southwest-style,” I admit I was kind of thinking something zippy, Tex-Mex, maybe black bean and corn salsa with peppers and zippy holly-penyos in it.  It was still Southwestern-“ish,” but I wouldn’t necessarily use that word to describe it.  It was, however, very good.

No shortage of meat, the bread came out buttery and crisp on the outside and soft inside, quite a significant amount of filling, a healthy dose of cheese, and what tasted like a zesty Ranch sauce on it.  Not spicy, or even mild, by any means, but just something to add a tiny bit of zing to the sandwich.  Best of all, it wasn’t dry at all.

As far as frozen sandwiches go, that was easily one of the better ones I’ve had.  Probably in the top 5 list.  Now keep in mind, this IS frozen, so it won’t compare to your fresh-made ones from bakeries/deli places, but for microwave convenience, it was certainly pretty tasty.

Don’t let the looks deceive you – it may seem tiny, but that thing is loaded.  Normal humans (read: those who do not eat like I do [read: the rest of the world]) would likely feel right at that “I’m full, but not stuffed” point.  Which is great for staying awake at work keeping alert after consuming.  All in all, this sandwich should make its way onto your grocery list – or at least your “things to try” list.

The Verdict

4/5.  Danged good in the perspective of a frozen sandwich, but I can’t see myself paying a dollar or two more if the price went up.  

Local Spotlight: The Route 58 Delicatessen

So this place shows up and starts offering a "brown bag lunch" special at my place of business.  New York style deli, I says?  I've seen New York style delis on TV.  Like that Fööde Netwörken or some such.  Stuff looks good.  Huge, but good.

I like huge.  Huge is good.  (That's what she said.)

So I check out the menu.  It's here at this fancy link if you'd like to check it out for yourself.  And that starts me drooling like a homeless Ethiopian at a buffet profusely.  So, of course, I order.

Now, before you all protest about the prices (which are, admittedly, high), let me point out that I haven't been posting recently because I've been so bloody poor broke that I've been eating peanut butter & jelly sandwiches and ramen almost exclusively for the past two weeks.  If you really want me to put posts up about that, well, shoot, I'm a sell-out (that's why there's ads, now, to help me afford this stuff) and I'll do it. But they'll be very boring posts.  So I splurged.  Sue me.  

Actually, don't.  It'll be pretty much a waste of time and lawyer fees.

ANY-hoo.

Let's fast-forward to the good stuff.  Here's the almost before-and-after:

Route 58 Deli Corned Beef lunch box - Half gone :-)

The Aftermath

All over their menu and delivery van was plastered the slogan, "If you finish, we made a mistake!"  Well, clearly, they hadn't met me yet.  If a 2 1/2-lb. burrito with chips and salsa, a taco, and half a quesadilla didn't tackle me, this sandwich wasn't going to.

And, as shown by the aftermath photo (timestamped thirteen minutes and eleven seconds after the halfway point - plus an interruption to talk smack), they did make a mistake.  They didn't give me enough Russian Dressing.  (Note to your staff there, Mr. Owner Guy.)

(Russian dressing, by the way, is not Russian.  It was invented in New Hampshire by James E. Colburn.)

The corned beef was very lean, a little on the dry side, which was fixed extremely well by application of deli mustard and said misnamed condiment.  It came on rye bread, which was a little hard around the crust, but had a good flavor in the middle.  As for the meat?  Well, it was certainly loaded.  Hard to complain with two inches (that's NOT what she said) of solid corned animal.  Dead animals on bread is good.

The sandwich itself ran $6.99, which I'm down for.  The "lunch box" was $11.99... the difference was it came with a black & white cookie, halved pickle, and small tub of potato salad.  While the potato salad was decent, let's be real - it's still potato salad.  I find it hard to justify a $5 price hike for a pickle, tater salad, and a cookie.  Apparently, the pricing is a little different for what they serve in-restaurant, so I'll have to take that into consideration when I roll up there one day.  To put it in perspective, here's a shot from a coworker's visit where he ordered the Hot Pastrami Burger (yes, there is a burger underneath all that):

The Pastrami Burger

What does this mean?  In short, for the take-away lunch boxes, get just the sandwich.  It's enough for two normal meals or my gluttonous behind.  But the price jump for the box.. not so much.  In the restaurant, it appears that your money is WELL worth it to order, well, whatever you damn well please.

The Verdict

Due to the nature of my decision, I'm going to have to split this into a few parts.

Sandwich Only (Lunch Box Take-Away):  4/5.  Good stuff for your buck, and not skimping on the carved cow carcass.  Don't push the price too much higher, though.

Sandwich & Sides (Lunch Box Take-Away):  2/5.  The inclusion of some "side dishes" to jack the price up really knocked the  overall value down.  I can't say I'll get the box again (although I'll certainly eat it if someone else is buying!) but will definitely get the sandwich on its own.

Anything In Restaurant:  5/5.  That Pastrami Burger runs $14.99.  You couldn't get that much lean pastrami at your grocery store for that much.  Plus there's a burger and slaw and cheese and dressing and ZOMG brain hemorrhageeeeeeeee/////////////////////////////////

Vol. 30: Boston Market’s Chicken, Broccoli & Cheese Casserole

I consider Boston Market to be part of the “premium” line of frozen dinner makers – up there with Stouffer’s and Marie Callendar’s, where almost anything is a safe bet to at least not suck be pretty decent.

So when I saw this conveniently located in my grocer’s freezer, enticing me with its faux homestyledness, it didn’t take much debate before I tossed it into my shopping cart.  It pretty much sounded like this:

                                                            Freezer Case:  [stoic]

                                                            Me:  Oooooh!  *grab*

                                                            Freezer Case: [stoic]

As you can see, the freezer had a very convincing argument.  Here is the evidence presented by the freezer case, and the cooked version:

The box is deceptive

Oddly… it looks pretty close to the box.

As this was cooking in the ‘wave, I noticed something that made my hair stand on end.  On the back of the box, next to the innocent cooking instructions, were two little pieces of info that weren’t so innocent.  The first was the fact that the “serving size” was 14oz – but contained only 500 calories.  What sort of deceitful bull$hit trickery is this??  Lure me in with the false pretense of a stick-to-my ribs plastic platter of comfort food and then pull some diet crap on me?  No self-respecting dish with the words “cheese” and “casserole” in the title has a measly 500 calories per near-pound.  500 calories per tablespoon is more like it.  This can only mean one of two things:  they skimped on the cheese, or worse – they replaced it with “cheeze sawse.”  Which is better suited to stripping paint from cars than consumption.

Also, this beast has an ungodly 1,200mg of sodium.. which I totally don’t care about.  But after bite one, I have to question Boston Market on the following point:  HOW DIRECTLY THE F*@# IS IT THIS THING HAS 1,200 MG OF SODIUM AND STILL NEEDS SALT?!?!?!  Seriously??  This is worse than the Arby’s Steakhouse Salt Lick (see Vol.18 –ed.) in the sense that particular failure actually tasted salty as hell.  This thing has an abhorrent amount of salt and still needs more.  Ugh.

So I guess you can tell which direction this review is going.  But I’m going to surprise you with a curveball.. it’s not going down as far as you think.  Other than the fact this thing needs salt, it’s remarkably… tasteless.  The “cheeze sawse” tastes like.. warm.  As for the rice?  Well, I have to give props where props are due, and Boston Market’s frozen food chef-things actually did a pretty darned good job of making the rice come out close to decently cooked and not tasting like crunchy termites the way most places do.  But that in and of itself is not enough to offset the utter lack of…. any other redeeming quality from the dish.

It’s not a good sign when the only item in the “Pro” column from the reviewer (me) is “the rice doesn’t suck.”  On the other hand, the meal as a whole rang in with a final score of “it’s not inedible.”

I can’t say I want to eat it again.  On the same token, I’ll definitely eat this to avoid being really hungry (well before “starving”).  Given a choice between the Chicken, Broccoli & Cheese Casserole or Taco Bell’s Pacific Shrimp Tacos…….?  (fancy link –ed.)  Hunh.  That’s like a high-noon showdown of mediocrity, a fistful of apathy of such magnitude no one would even bother to show up to laugh at it.  I’d probably go for the casserole, but solely to avoid risk of being TBONED (Taco Bell Overdose Nitro-Explosive Diarrhea).

The Verdict

2/5.  It doesn’t suck…?  *shrug*

Vol. 29: Taste Unlimited Inlet Bistro Sandwich

Okay, okay, so it’s been over a month since I posted something, I’m slacking, yadda yadda yadda.  Grub costs money, so when I don’t have any, I don’t get special eats.  Unless you’re about to send me a check for a dollar, then STFU pipe down in the peanut gallery so I can tell my story.

A long, long time ago (at 5:07 pm today), in a galaxy far, far away (commonly referred to as the depths of my stomach), a deep rumbling could be heard in the Force..

..okay, okay, that was just gas.  ANYhoo.

Bottom line, I was hungry, a coworker (shout-out to Thomater for being my enabler) was going to get food from Taste Unlimited, I jumped in.  Wasn’t in the mood for my usual (the Northender, which is phenomenal), so after browsing the menu for a minute or two, I’m reminded she’s actually been on the phone placing the order the whole time, and just jump on the first thing I see that sounds good.  Which was this Inlet Bistro Sandwich, seen here:

To quickly summarize, this is like a mouth-sized caprese-gasm Fort Knox of fresh mozzarella cheese, with nice slices of tomato and their trademark basil mayonnaise, accented with some.. red wine vinegar sauce-thing.  Don’t tell my boss, but I was taking pornographic pictures of me with this sandwich at my desk.  The one where it looks like I’m tongueing the cheese?  Yeah, I was just licking runaway sauce.. Honest. 

Speaking of sauce, this is definitely one saucy sandwich.  Plan on taking a small sink bath afterwards.  Don’t wear any expensive clothing while eating it.  If you do, wear a bib.  If you do wear a bib, then you are a bib, and probably eat at places where lunches cost $45 a head.  So go read some 4-Michelin star restaurant review and leave me and my sexy sandwich alone.  You wouldn’t want to see what I’m about to do, anyway.

Or maybe you would.  Perv. 

Bottom line?  The cheese is perfect and fresh – not dry or mealy at all.  Tomatoes are juicy and ripe, and the basil mayo is just what you’d come to expect from Taste.  That kick with the vinaigrette is what really acts as the anchor for all the other flavors and makes them dance like they’re dressed for pole work.   And, just like the super-high bar that’s already been set by the Northender years ago, the ciabatta bread (though the menu lies and says “flatbread”) is just the right amount of chewy, not so hard as to smoosh the sandwich contents out the sides and not so soft to collapse under the weight of all that taste bud bed buddy awesomeness.  And while it’s filling, it’s doesn’t sit in your stomach like a brick.

Oh, by the way… I bet half of you will finish it before you realize there’s no meat in it.  And then you won’t care.

The Verdict

5/5.  I could see myself paying a dollar or two more than they’re charging for it.  Yeap.  Sure could.  There’d be a mighty fine tip in it for someone who could make one appear in front of me right now.  Sure would……..