taste test

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Ever notice how in pregnancy test ads, ladies are always excited to get a positive outcome? (The only other option is a male announcer informing us that 98.8812% of ladies misread a pregnancy test BECAUSE THEY’RE SO STUPID, am I right ladies?? Ladies, eh?) (Incidentally, I’d really like to reaffirm that this post does most certainly NOT announce my pregnancy. Just saying.) But I would really like to see a pregnancy test where a lady in a communal dorm bathroom looks down at her pregnancy test, then sighs with relief and takes a sip of her 40 of MGD Light. Is all I’m saying. Speaking of, ever seen these ads? They’re not American. In America, people only have sex because they desperately wish for babies. So this ad would make no sense. But they’re interesting in a purely non-American, anthropological sense, right?

Anyway.

So Ian’s out of town. He’s doin’ mathiness. I’ve had a beer. So obviously now it’s time to put on some red lipstick and drink the random shot of pomegranate-flavored liqueur that Lauren left behind. (Should I not have linked to that? If not…TOOOO LATE SUCKAHHHH!!! Also, let me know, and I’ll delete. But also, it’s the internet, so it’s already TOOOOO LATE!!!!) She bought like a bottle of white wine (I know, right???) and this random shot of girl-flavored girl-booze last time she came to visit, and drank basically none of it. Because she’s a girl. And not an alcoholic, like the rest of us. WEIRD, right? So somebody had to bite the bullet. And everybody knows the best booze costs .99 cents.

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So. Here goes. Psyching myself up…!

Oh hey look there’s a cat.

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Okay, but no, really doing it for real.

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Oh hey look there’s the other cat, too!

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Okay. But for realsies, this time!!

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De…licious??

Still working on the epic mega-cut of the food blog that we did while Isley was in town visiting, but to get you pumped up for it, here’s a teaser:

Century Egg Taste-Test!!!

Ian: I put it in my mouth and was like, oh my god oh my god, and then went, oh, that tastes like an egg.
Ed: That’s what she said.
Isley: It kind of tasted like egg, BUT I still wanted to throw up.
Ian: It was the texture of rotten egg.
Isley: I had some thousand-year soup at dim sum once, and it wasn’t very good. I’m kinda drunk.

Yay! Happy Saturday, Me-Made-May the 1st! To force myself not to stray toooo far from my recent personal resolution to quit blogging about Pretty Dresses so much, I am going to only post the photos of what I wore every day, and if I must say anything about it, I will write it on the picture itself. (Other than the title and date, which I will keep in the actual text as a blatant google-lure.) So. Onward.

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Ugh. Someday I swear I will learn to take a picture of myself without looking like a total douchebag.

Anyway.

TASTETEST!!

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Look, I don’t know. It was sitting by the register, the packaging is very cute design…I am susceptible to such things. I like buying dumb crap, okay? I can admit it. You’re supposed to float one of these shots on top of the other. Jeckyll is “berry”-flavored and Hyde is black licorice.

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There are two glasses here, you’ll notice, but Ian flat-out fucking REFUSED to try any.

That was probably a pretty good policy on his part.

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It tasted like throwing up in a dorm bathroom in college. I cannot in good conscience recommend Jekyll & Hyde shots to anyone.

Also – what the eff am I wearing there? Two different sewing-projects-in progress, a shirt and a dress. They both turned out half-decent; you’ll be seeing them later this month, surely. Woot!

What Did Jessica Have for Dinner Tonight?? Leftovers. MBG said it was okay. Vegetarian this time around, though – all the pork-stuff was gone.

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A more interesting question, though, might be: What Did Jessica Get in the Mail Today??

When I got home this afternoon, I saw a brown-paper-wrapped package on my front porch, with a return address that I didn’t recognize. I sighed heavily and wondered what I had drunkenly ordered from ebay this time. I shook it, assuming I would soon come to remember the deer antlers or kitschy porcelain boar sculpture or ugly vintage scarves or whatever – and I just straight-up could. Not. Remember.

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So I took it inside and warily opened it, anticipating my brand-new ice-sculpture kit which had seemed totally awesome at 2am two weeks ago. Instead, I got…sneakers. Size 8. Crap, had I even forgotten my own shoe size??

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Opened the box to get a look at my new sneaks and was met with…this.

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WTF, YO!! DO I HAVE ENEMIES???

And it was…wrapped in a French newspaper! Holy shit! I have INTERNATIONAL ENEMIES!!!

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I may be a spy!

Dig, dig, dig…oh, right, it’s peach jam. Thanks Becky! (Wouldn’t it have been funny if this package had been, like, randomly searched via some draconian Homeland Security law after you had answered “no” to the obligatory post office query of “are you shipping anything toxic or harmful?”) And actually, it was both a jar of peach jam, AND a jar of something called “peach rum sauce” which I was told was to be eaten on ice cream! A meeellion imaginary dollars to whoever can guess which one I busted out first.

I totally left that house right then to go buy vanilla ice cream. Got it home, scooped some out, and examined the jar.

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I have learned from apocalypse novels – The Stand and The Road, specifically, I think – that if you’re ever a last surviving human rooting around in other people’s houses for food to eat, and you’re starving and you’re tempted to eat the home-canned food, and you find one whose top is bubbled outward? Don’t eat it. You’ll be sad to leave it, but you’ll be even sadder if you eat it. This can looked okay. It certainly had quaint little fruits drawn on it. I popped it open. Sniffed. It smelled like peaches. Does botulism smell like peaches? I wasn’t sure. I went ahead and took the chance.

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Does all home canned stuff actually taste like fruit?? This actually tasted like peaches! It tasted like peaches with a sweet, thick, brown-sugar-melty-hug on top of it, but like serious honest real peaches. It was weird – like when you drink hippie organic apple juice and you’re surprised because for once your apple juice actually tastes like apples. But it also tasted like pie! Is there actually rum in it? I wasn’t sure. Like, I thought I maybe tasted a little boozy bite every now and then? But then I wasn’t sure if I was just making myself imagine it. I had to sort of consciously remind myself to stop eating it with a spoon and put it on my ice cream.

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Omg Erwin wanted some so bad. Arg, I hate that I can’t use superlatives in foodblogs anymore because I use them all the time and they’ve lost all meaning by now. (I’m a glutton! Perhaps an easily-pleased glutton!) But this stuff was so good. It tasted hippieish, and mom-ish in a way that my mom didn’t do, and almost somehow healthy? Or, no, not healthy, but wholesome. Like, incredibly brown-sugary without being sappy-sweet, and really fresh-ish. I can’t describe it. It was, like, unpretentious? But that almost sounds like not a compliment, and I don’t mean it to sound like not a compliment. I don’t know. Try to get someone to send you some. I had a second serving, and smashed this one all up so that it became peach-rum-flavored-ice-cream. You can thank me for that little hint later.

Then, for post-dessert, I busted out the jam.

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Also labeled sweetly; obviously therefore botulism-free.

I realized, of course, that in my haste to bring home some vanilla ice cream, I had forgotten to even think about bread, which I was out of. I laid out my available starches: butter cracker, lemon cupcake, whole week tortilla chip.

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Er…dear fans of jam: don’t try it on whole wheat tortilla chips. And actually, har har Jessica is very humorous, but that shit was fucking AWSOME on cupcakes, srsly. Better than the whipped cream last night. And also, about ten minutes after I took these pictures, I remembered my left-over tortillas and ate two of them, hot, smeared with melty butter and this jam, and it was nutso. I don’t know why this shit keeps reminding me of my mom – she never, ever made jam or canned things or anything. But somehow all I could think of was staying home sick when I was in elementary school and watching The Price Is Right on the couch under a comforter and having her bring me special lunch. (That’s a compliment, too, in case it doesn’t sound like one.)

Also included in the package? Sigh. An undeniably adorable-looking package of pectin. Shit. That’s a challenge, yo.

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All right. Jam foodblog challenge: upcoming.

And PS – Horror Movie Review: From Beyond? OMG AWSUM LUVED IT. Not sarcastic, embarrassingly enough. Fucking enjoyable.

booze-off!

Ian and I have long had this idea for a restaurant called “Ian V Jessica.” We would have two versions of everything on the menu: one made by him, and one made by me. You could order one version or the other, or a half-and-half plate. For instance, the Ian grilled cheese would be super-fancy expensive cheese on fancy bread with goofball pink dead sea salt or something, and mine would be just the perfect extra-buttery fried-ass grilled cheese with sliced Kraft on white. But, like, they aren’t all just “Jessica likes trashy white Midwestern crap” dichotomies. Like, Ian mashed potatoes would have green onions in them, and mine would have a bunch of sour cream and wasabi. Or his pancakes would have pepper in the batter and be covered in sour cream and hot sauce and cheddar cheese, and mine wouldn’t be totally retarded. Etc.

Anyway! Tonight we tried our first Ian V Jessica experiment! The whole point of the restaurant, obviously, is to see who wins. The contest tonight was one of bartendership: Gin!

Ian’s recipe: The Curious Case of the Cucumber-Cantaloupe Cocktail!

Extract cucumber and cantaloupe juice as follows. Finely dice two cucumbers and half a cantaloupe, adding each to separate pans. Heat until the fruit breaks down a bit, and then blend in a blender and run through a sieve. Put in freezer for a few minutes to cool off the juice. Add one shot of each to one shot of gin with a touch of fresh lime juice and half a shot of tonic water.

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It was totally grainy and kind of not very good.

<ian>  Arg… TOTAL FAIL.  The problem is that I have successfully used the above method to extract grape juice from old grapes, so I assumed it would work for cucumbers and cantaloupes.  This made an ass of mostly me.  Whereas the grapes don’t have pulp, these fruits were pulp-tastic, and the extracted product was riddled with it.  I might have been able to further filter it, but I didn’t bother.  I suck.  </ian>

I think the tonic water was part of the problem, too.  He said he wanted it to add some sparkle and carbonation, but the quinine flavor didn’t work with the fruit.  Ginger ale might have been better?

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Jessica’s recipe: Jubilee Gin Mojito!

Make a mint-infused honey simple syrup by boiling one cup of honey, half a cup of water, and a handful of half-crushed mint leaves for a while, then cooling it down. Crush a couple mint leaves at the bottom of a glass. Add a shot or two of gin, a half-shot of lime juice, a half-shot of cherry juice, and a half-shot of honey simple syrup, and stir. Fill glass with ginger ale.

Then drink it, joyfully, because it is SO GOOD.

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Jessica FTW! The mint-honey simple syrup (which I keep trying to spell “symple syrup,” incidentally) and the cherry juice were both things I’ve never tried before and were superyummy.

Now to just try to find a way to make the mango-black-pepper vodka we bought last week palatable….

beer day!!!

Yesterday was the day we’ve all been waiting for! Yes, that’s right! BEER DAY!!

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You have to dress up for Beer Day.

Ian poured the first glass.

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<ian> I must admit, I was a bit worried about the in-bottle secondary fermentation, but it apparently worked like a charm.  Look at all that carbonation!!!  BEER DAY!!! </ian>

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But then he let me taste it first!

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It was good!

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<ian>  It was!!!  I mean, it certainly wasn’t the best I’ve ever had, or really anywhere near the best.  It was, though, perfectly respectable as a mid-range wheat.  It needed a bit of citrus, though.  Maybe next time I’ll add some lemon or some grains of paradise.  The lesson learned from brewing this batch is that even the bare-bones, frill-free boiled extract method produces something decent to drink.  I can’t wait to see how my next two batches turn out… more later!  </ian>

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So I’m sure you’ve all heard of the “miracle berry,” this super-expensive and relatively hard-to-acquire fruit which, when chewed and held on the tongue for a minute or two, does this weird thing to your taste buds so that bitter things taste sweet. People get together and eat them and have what are called, adorably, “flavor-tripping parties,” and which are apparently trendy enough among the young urban hipster (check out that fur coat) foodsnobby elite to have been featured in an NY Times Lifestyles article. Well, we’ve wanted to try these ever since we heard about them, but not quite enough to overcome our cheapness and laziness when it comes to getting on a three-month waiting list to purchase two berries for fifteen bucks, or whatever.

However! ThinkGeek comes to the rescue again, with their “miracle berry pills” – which really do seem to contain nothing but freeze-dried miracle berries. (I was worried that these would be the ephedrine to a real miracle berry’s cocaine, but it doesn’t seem to be so. I’m sure there is indeed some loss of power or longevity of the effect, but if so – not enough for that 3-month waiting list.)

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When you read about these berries, it’s kind of impossible to ignore all the drug lingo. Not just that there are “flavor-tripping parties,” but the whole thing. Like, they’re vaguely hard to get ahold of, and there’s an illegalish feel to the procurement of them. There’s a ritual of preparing yourself and your space when you take them. It alters your perceptions of reality. Honestly – and this sounds stupid, I know, but it’s true – when I took them, a combination of this psychosomatic belief that I was taking drugs and my actual excitement to be trying this neat new thing that I’ve wanted to try for a long time both kind of mixed together to make me a little light-headed and butterfly-stomached. In other words…I kind of felt like I was in that first stage after you take drugs and before they kick in, when you’re anticipating the effect so much that you accidentally think that you already are feeling it, you know? (Not like I’ve ever done drugs before, Future Employers Who Have Found My Blog). So if I accidentally slip into the lingo (I kept saying I was “taking” or “doing” the pills, instead of “eating” them), please forgive.

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Anyway! As part of our drug-ish preparation, we laid out all of the foods we wanted to try. The main thing the berries do is make bitter or sour things taste sweet, thus the radishes, limes, lemons. It also affects tangy things, thus the cheeses. And it makes things that are already sweet cloying, thus the marshmallows, chocolate, etc. (I was particularly interested in the Nerds, since they are both sweet and really tart, kind of, at the same time.) Also, stout beers are supposed to taste like chocolate, so we got one of those, but we also got an IPA to see what would happen to its bitterness.

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The pills were biggish, sort of the shape and size and texture of a Tums. We took one pill, chewed it up, and let it sit in our mouths for a minute. I think I kind of fucked up mine. What you’re supposed to do is chew it up into a paste and let the paste sit all over all the parts of your tongue for a minute or two. I chewed mine up, but wasn’t prepared for its half-yucky taste, and got all spitty, and half-swallowed it too soon, I think. So I suggested to Ian that we take a second pill. (We got 10 tablets in the box that we bought, and one dose is 1/2 a tablet. So we were already at a double dose [which isn't wacky or anything - the site suggests taking a double dose for a "more intense experience"], so with two pills we were at a quad dose. But we had tons of pills, and frankly, I don’t imagine we’re going to want to do this terribly often. It’s not like we were worried about running out.) The second pill I didn’t chew at all, just moved around over the surface of my tongue until it slowly dissolved. Ian did this for both of his pills. (I know this is a slightly disgusting amount of detail, but there is a reason I mention it – mine wore off way sooner than Ian’s did, and I suspect this was why.)

So! Super-scientific results:

Lemon –
The first thing we tried was the lemon. It’s what everybody mentions as being the coolest thing, and it’s true – it was. It tasted exactly like a lemon drop. It was the most delicious lemon candy I’ve ever had. But the cool thing was that if you bit hard into the lemon, sometimes you wouldn’t even really get lemon flavor at all – just this giant rush of sugar, as though if you were eating the lemon without the miracle fruit you would have only gotten a rush of sour and this was just the way your mouth was translating it. Ian said he didn’t even get that clenching at the back of his jaw like you get when you eat sour stuff. I got just a tiny twinge of it.

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Lime –
The lime had the same effect as the lemon, but wasn’t as super-duper delicious. Tasted like a limeade.

Radishes -
I was really excited about the radishes for some reason, but they were a bit boring. They tasted like radishes, but less bitter. No big whoop.

Parsley and Arugula -
Tasted like parsley/arugula, but less so. The flavor itself was just dialed way down. This was an interesting effect that we hadn’t anticipated that happened to a few different things. (Most notably the cheap grated bagged cheddar cheese.)

Red wine -
This shit tasted EXACTLY LIKE MANISCHEWITZ!!! I had bought relatively crappy wine for this experiement, so it was very tannin-y and very bitter. I had expected that it would taste like grape jucie. NOT SO! If you’ve never tasted Manischewitz, it’s basically just super-sweet super-crappy wine, but I really have to stress HOW MUCH this tasted like it. It was nuts. (Also, as Ian informed me, apparently everyone says this, so it’s not a novel thought.)

Raspberry –
Sweet and tasty. No big whoop, until I ate one again after the effect had worn off and realized that these were actually pretty tart berries. We should have tried all of the food first, but Ian claimed he didn’t need to, because he knew what cheese tastes like, and I forgot to press the issue.

Canned pineapple -
We buy pineapple in juice. This tasted like pineapple in syrup. Now you understand how mind-altering this stuff is!

Carrot –
Sweet, yummy, not much real change.

Shredded bagged cheddar cheese –
THIS CRAP WAS EFFIN AWFUL. This was far and away my least favorite flavor of the night, and one of the biggest changes. Er, for me, anyway. Ian wasn’t quite as disgusted as I was.

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I was very disgusted.

The thing was, the flavor of this cheese was just gone. There was nothing there, so all that was left was the texture, which was that of dry, dusty pre-grated bagged cheese. Maybe, in fact, what I was having was a reaction not to the actual fact of the flavor I was experiencing, but a more visceral reaction to the wrongness of eating something that tasted of nothing when I knew that it should taste like cheese. Anyway – hated this.

Parmesan reggiano –
Not as awful, but definitely less flavorful. “A waste of a good regiano,” was all Ian had to say, and I pretty much agree. The one really weird thing that was true for all of the food we tried but which was most disconcerting in this particular case was that everything still smelled the way it should. So it was weird that it didn’t taste the way it smelled.

Blue cheese –
All I have down in my notes for this one is a big drawing of a sad face.

Stone Imperial Russian Stout –
Super yummo! I don’t usually like stouts that much (Ian does) but I loved this one. Ian said it tasted like a chocolate egg cream, and that’s exactly true. It was sweet and dark and chocolatey and good.

Southern Tier UnEarthly IPA –
IPAs, unlike stouts, are something that I really like and Ian usually doesn’t so much. But with the miracle berries, we agreed – just gross. IPAs are super-bitter, right? And all the bitterness turned to sweetness. Somehow in the stout it worked, but in the IPA it was just plain yucky. Some things shouldn’t be sweetened, and this was one of them.

I think the difference between why the stout was so good and why the IPA was so bad has to do with the flavors in those two beers other than their bitterness. Both beers are bitter. But, in addition to being bitter, stouts taste smoky and chocolatey and have a creamy texture. IPAs, in addition to their bitterness, taste sharp and zingy and green and fresh. “Smoky and chocolatey and creamy” goes well with the sweet which replaced the bitter. “sharp and zingy and green and fresh” does not go well with sweet.

Marshmallow, chocolate –
Same as usual. Not too cloying or anything.

Nerds –
Ian said these were boring. They were, I guess. You know how usually when you eat Nerds, there’s a sweet phase and then there’s a tart phase? Meh. Not anymore.

Horseradish –
Sweet at first, then with a hot zing for a finish. Yummy in a non-radical sort of way. This was the most useful change of the night, I think. If I could buy horseradish that always just tasted like this, I would.

Mustard –
Weird! Sweet!

Honey –
We tried the super-fancy honey we bought in Paris, which usually has these really great complex layers of flavor: sharp zings and fruity sweetnesses. It tastes very much like champagne, usually. With the miracle berries it was just sweet and flat – no zings, no layers, no complexity at all.

Balsamic vinegar –
Basically tasted like soda. Ian drank too much of this, I suspect. There’s a half-amusing warning on the ThinkGeek website that says that even though it tastes like you’re eating candy, you really are eating acids, so, you know, don’t eat so many lemons that you burn your tongue or get a stomachache or whatever. Well…Ian kept going back for seconds on spoonfuls of balsamic.

Wasabi and Siracha –
I tried the wasabi, Ian tried the Siracha. Both had the same general effect: a tiny split-second of really interesting wasabi- or Siracha-flavored sweetness, followed by a huge walloping punch of heat that obliterates any and all flavors, just like eating those things plain usually would.

Soy sauce –
Weird. Like, disconcerting. Not necessarily sweeter than usual, but noticeably less flavorful. Tasted like really cheap soy sauce, maybe.

Apple cider vinegar –
Tasted like kind of crappy apple juice. Ian liked this one way better than I did (at this point my effect was starting to wear off, but his was still going strong) and, again, I think he went back and hit the bottle a few too many times. (We both actually ended up with slight sickish stomachaches after this experiment. Perhaps therefore not our most successful foodblog ever.)

Digby –
Fur.

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beer geeks

A little bit ago, our good friend Chris came to visit us in the magical far-away Island of Rhode!  We decided to celebrate with a massive amount of beer!  But to help legitimize it, we decided to call it a “taste test.”  We had what I’m pretty sure are called “40s” (when the beer is much, much cheaper) of four different beers: Hades Ale, Mikkeller Beer Geek Breakfast, Rodenbach Flemish Sour Ale, and Stone Vertical Epic 2008.

We started with the Mikkeller.

Ian: “It’s from Norway. Like black metal.”
Chris: “It’s to burn churches to.”

Our bartender had a bit of a tough time with the pour on this one. I believe that over at BeerAdvocate they would call this a “thick head.”

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Jessica: “This tastes like Dr Pepper and brisket.”

[Ed. note - They made fun of me for the Dr Pepper comparison and strenuously disagreed, but I totally stand by it. There’s a very sweet, cola-y kind flavor that was neither chocolate nor caramel, like with a lot of stouts. It was something else. Like Dr Pepper.]

Ian: “It wasn’t as chocolaty as I hoped, but it also didn’t go overboard with the smokey, which is a problem with a lot of stouts.”

Chris: “You don’t like the Rauchbier?”

Ian: “I’m not sure.”

Chris: “It’s the one that we got at Cups? It’s like super-smoky?”

[Ed. note - "Cups" actually = Mugs. "Cups" is totally what I had down in my notes from that night. Whether this error was the drunken oral typo of Chris or the drunken auditory typo of myself, we shall knife-fight to decide the next time I see him.]

Ian: “Look, I appreciate these things in isolation, but in general, smoky is not the main flavor I prefer.”

[Ed. note - For some reason I want to put a "That's what she said" there, but I'm not exactly sure why.]

Chris: “I expected it to be very coffee-y because of the ‘breakfast’ thing. It did have a nice oatmeal stout, but more coffee than chocolate, which I was fine with.”

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(Note that bag of chips there in the background – Chris’s mom told him that he should bring some snacks if he was going to spend the night at his friend’s house! Thanks, Mrs. E! He also brought his Guitar Hero controller and Ninja Turtles sleeping bag.) (Two-thirds of that is COMPLETELY TRUE.)

We tried the Stone Vertical Epic next. This one was specifically recommended to us by one of the cute guys who works at the local liquor store that we really like. He noticed that I bought a fair amount of Stone and also Belgians, and so he recommended this to us, adding that they kept it in the back and didn’t really let most people know that they had it and you had to ask for it specifically to get some. We’re pretty much Beer Buddies now, me and him.

Chris: “It’s Epic. Like black metal. Every beer tonight will be about black metal.”
Ian: “Like it should be.”

Apparently these Stone Vertical Epics come out every year on 01/01/01, 02/02/02, etc. This was version 08/08/08. My Beer Buddy says that what you’re really supposed to do with them is buy them and save them until you have a complete set and you can drink them all at once. If you like, you can pretend that this picture is of three different years’ worth of beers. Or six, all mixed together.

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Jessica: “Ah, I dunno. This is supposed to be so special and secret and awesome, and it’s gooooood, certainly. Even very good. But I dunno. I wouldn’t save it for a decade to get the whole series together or whatever. I’d just drink a lot of it. Right now. Tonight. Please.”

Ian: “Ah, that was just an IPA. Whatever it was, it was tasty, but I think that whatever it was was overwhelmed by the hops and all I got from it was, ‘This is an IPA.’ It was a decent beer, but in the grand scheme of ‘This is going to be a Belgian ale,’ all I got here was ‘No, IPA.’”

Chris: “It reminded me a lot of the Belgian triples that I always get and kind of regret at Burp Castle. So, like, it does have an IPA taste, but really, that sort of like yeasty, almost sweetness that sort of overwhelms a triple. And maybe that’s good for a triple, but…I’m not that into triples.”

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Jessica: “Okay, at first, I denied the hoppiness, but I was dumb. It’s true; it’s hoppy. But I also taste quite a bit of banana, maybe? Or citrus-y, but orange-y-citrus-y? And the same spiciness that you get from Belgians. So I’m definitely tasting Heffes and I want to say even Wheats, but, as Chris points out, maybe this is only because this beer is using the same spices and/or yeasts as a Belgian. Anyway, yum, I don’t care, and this is my favorite so far. I expect it to be my favorite of the whole night.”

I think at this point we finally busted out with the Guitar Hero.

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“We” did. It was “awesome.”

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Still…awesome…8 billionth time I’ve listened to “Bulls on Parade”….

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(Seriously wasn’t being sarcastic! Thanks again, Mrs. E!)

Next up: Rodenbach!

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We totally had to google this one (but that’s just how committed we are to journalistic excellence here at the ablogisatreat Beer Labs) but Flemish is totally the Dutch language, which we’re pretty sure means this is Belgian-ish beer?

Chris: “It’s not as strong as some of the Flemish Sour Ales I’ve had at Burp Castle. But this is sort of like a subtle sour cherry kind of beer. I got, like, acid stomach one time when I drank like six of them.”

Ian: “I think ‘cherry’ is the correct flavor – it reminds me of the Sam Adams Cherry Wheat, but on steroids.”

Chris: “Cherry growth hormone.”

Ian: “Yeah. The weird thing about this is that this may be the sort of beer that I can’t imagine pairing food with.”

Jessica: “No, no, I disagree: first, I kind of see what you’re saying with the cherry thing, but I think it’s actually just more of a generic tart fruitiness. And so maybe you could pair it with something that that usually goes with, like a white fish-with-lemon-and-dill kind of thing?”

Chris: “I’d pair it with SweeTarts. Sometimes I want to start a restaurant that’s like WD-50, but like if you had a concussion: here, we’ve paired SweeTarts with Apple Jacks.”

Ian: “You know, this makes me sad to say, but this kind of tastes like Sparks.”

** Everyone groans and screams ‘YES!’ **

But – to defend! – I think it was still really really good. I changed my mind after this one, even: I liked it even better than the Stone.

Brief Comedic Intermission:

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A man without any money and no job came to the White House one day in 1893. He got down on his knees and started chewing the grass. “What are you doing?” President Grover Cleveland asked. “I’m hungry and have nothing to eat.” President Cleveland thought for a moment. “Well, then, you should go to the backyard. The grass is taller there.”

Ba-dum-bum!

And now we continue with the testing of tastes…

Finally: Hades Ale!

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Chris: “I should have gotten something else by Great Divide.”

Ian: “What kind of beer is this, even?”

Chris: “An ale, with rare Belgian yeast.”

Ian: “With rare Belgian yeast? It’s okay. I like it.”

Jessica: “It tastes like perfume.”

Oh, noes! One of those tough video-game playing gangs!!

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k, so?

Hola, bitches. Ian here. Isley recently outed me to the world for using Velveeta in making chile con queso. Now, I’m the first one to admit that this is kind of skeevy. Plain Velveeta just doesn’t taste like cheese. I think it’s fair to say that Velveeta:cheese::Crisco:butter. You can use the former in place of the latter with certain benefits, but you don’t want to eat that shit on a sandwich.

<jessica> Well, ACTUALLY – speaking of tater tot casserole and mayonnaise sandwiches and things…I’m not gonna say it was the BEST grilled cheese I ever had, but I had an interestingly Velveeta-ed grilled cheese at this bar called Swig one night. It was, like, a club, first of all, which – how did the toast the middle slice of bread??? It is a mystery. And second of all, it was made with these thick-ass slices of actual block-Velveeta (not even the shrink-wrapped sandwich slices!), and I did not hate it. So there. Though also I was eating it at a bar, which might have contributed to my complacency. Christ, it’s kind of depressing sometimes when I’m blogging and I accidentally type out yet another warning sign of alcoholism. </jessica>

<jessica> How worried were you guys that my “well, actually -” was in reference to my love of Crisco sandwiches? </jessica>

So, anyway, last night I made Spanish rice, and as per usual there were tons of leftovers. When it came time to warm them up for dinner tonight, I decided to drop some science and make some non-processed-chile-con-queso. I scoured the tubes for a recipe for queso that didn’t call for Velveeta. This is surprisingly difficult, as you can check yourself. I eventually settled on this, which seemed promising enough. I’m not a huge fan of Emeril as a guy, but his recipes have yet to let me down (bam!).

<jessica> Pow! </jessica>

But, wait! No dinner of warmed up rice leftovers and queso is complete without homemade tortillas. So, I, uh… made some.

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*yawn* The pictures didn’t turn out that great, so I’ll cut to the chase.

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Et voila:

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<jessica> Actually, someone probably should make him post his tortilla recipe at some point. It’s the fastest, easiest, best thing he makes. </jessica>

Okay, so back to the queso. The problem with using real cheese (in this case cheddar and pepper jack) is its meltiness. Since real cheese contains curds and no oil (as opposed to Velveeta, which I’m pretty sure can be used to power your car’s internal combustion engine), it melts into a lumpy, curdy substance. Everything I’ve heard (via AB and other sources) says the lumpy melting can be mitigated by building a roux first, and then melting the cheese into this. I have used this technique fairly successfully to make cheese sauces before, so I assumed that I would work fairly well for the queso. It essentially didn’t.

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The flavor was really great. The DIY pepper/onion/tomato mix was wonderful, perhaps even better than Rotel. The problem was that it was lumpy, pronounced with the umpy. The texture really overrode the flavor and ruined the queso for me. No me gustan los terrones.

<jessica> That’s Italian for, “I won’t feed your dog.” </jessica>

Though it was crappy on a chip, it tasted dandy on the tortillas with the rice.

<jessica> Eh…here’s me officially disagreeing that it was crappy on chips. Fine, it was lumpy, which was a little weird. But it wasn’t, like, weird and oily and separate-y the way you expect melted cheddar to be. And it tasted fucking great. If I were you, I wouldn’t have actually clicked through to read the recipe, so, for those of you who didn’t – he actually roasted a serrano chile and a jalapeno on the gas oven burners and blackened the outside skins before he chopped them up and put them in the cheese. (I’m just a crappy photographer, is the only reason there’s no neat pyrotechnic documentation.) It tasted pretty fucking great. I was willing to put up with the lumps. </jessica>

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After the fact, I looked up tips for reducing lumpiness in cheese sauces. I found two suggestions: use high quality cheeses, and add the cheese off the heat at the very last minute. I did neither of these things. The former was because I was too lazy to walk to the nice grocery store ten blocks away, the latter because I didn’t know any better. Maybe next time? Probably not. Velveeta works really, really well for melting, and the pepper mix covers up the processed-skeeve flavor.

A couple more things before I sign off. First, Jessica discovered an excellent use for Nutella and leftover tortillas. Also, she has a cute haircut, but I wouldn’t put my finger anywhere near her mouth while she’s eating Nutella!

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<jessica> Which is the more embarrassing photo of me: the one where I have butter smeared accross my cheek and am fending the cat off my soup? Or the one where I’m laying into a knife-ful of Nutella like a yeti on Christmas morning? And where does the one where I’m cheesing out with a beet stuck in my front teeth fall in the spectrum? Is this another warning sign of alcoholism, or just an indicator of my enjoyment of Ian’s skill in the kitchen? </jessica>

Second, every time I make something in the oven I burn my goddamned hands. Because I’m a klutz? No. Because my “hotpad” can only handle temperature up to 114 degrees Fahrenheit? Yes. It sucks, and I need a new one. Luckily, my crafty lady-partner can fabricate a set of hotpads using only an old pair of jeans and some scrap fabric, lickety-split.

<jessica> She sounds awesome! </jessica>

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(Ed. By popular demand, the tortilla recipe)

1.5 cups bread flour
1.5 tsp salt
1 tsp baking powder
.25 cup fat (shortening, butter, lard, or some combination thereof [I usually use shortening])
.75 cup hot water (as hot as your faucet will produce, but not boiled or anything)

Add the first four items to a bowl and squish together until the fat is integrated and mixture clumps on squeezing. Then add the water in thirds, thoroughly mixing in at each step. Knead the dough 7-10 minutes, then roll out into a tube and divide into 8-12 parts. Roll the parts into balls, place on a plate, and cover with a warm, damp cloth. Let the dough balls rest for 20-25 minutes, then roll out into flat rounds. The type of fat used seems to affect how thin you can get them rolled out. Then throw them onto a frying pan on high for 45 seconds or so on one side and then 15-30 on the other side. The first pancake rule holds: the first few don’t turn out that well. Usually you can tell when they’re ready to flip because bubbles have formed and expanded to a large but manageable size; squish the bubbles down on flipping.

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Kansas has things you can eat in it! Come explore them with me, won’t you?

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Let’s just go on ahead and start with the important stuff here: Burrito King. I’m not even going to make some lame “meat tubes when you’re drunk” joke or anything. Burrito King is an institution, and I, because I am an honest woman and not a traitor to my roots, will not trash-talk Burrito King. That stuff hits the spot come 2 am, and whether it might have caused or prevented vomiting on certain occasions is really none of your business, thank you very much.

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The first time on this trip that I visited Burrito King, I sat next to a pretty hipster girl and three frat boys. One of the really great things about officially reaching your “late twenties” is that you can hunch there gnawing sideways on a burrito, stealing other people’s salsa verde and drooling what’s probably just beans, while the pretty hipster, still, unfortunately, in her “mid twenties,” feels enough pull of social convention to at least try to sit up straight and with her knees together. Anyway, I also had a lengua taco. It. Was. Delicious. Then again, I. Was. Drunk.

So I tried it again, just to make sure! Ian and I went one night when it was my turn to be DD. I tried this thing sober, just to be sure. And you know what? FUCKING AWESOME. Just GREAT. Like, flavorful and tender and saucy and yummy, while their chicken is dry and their beef is plain. Highly, highly recommended.

Also, there were more douchebags.

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This guy was helpfully announcing his presence by opening and closing the window very loudly, drumming on the windowsill and calling out, “Hey! Hey, gracias! Hey, gracias! Amigo!” Look at that cocksuck in his stupid little shorts and his sandals. Please, please – someone out there tell me this smear’s name so that I can type it here and he can find this while googling for himself.

The next morning was supposed to be legendary KC dim sum, some big fancy party, but Ian felt, um, bad. So we skipped it and wandered over to Yello Sub at some point instead. This is how Ian felt all day:

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Yello Sub is delicious and full of hippies trying to brainwash your children.

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Also there’s muthafuxin Bully Wheat.

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And muthafuxin El Mezcal.

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Er…it was better than that looks.

I don’t even remember why Ian was rolling his eyes, but you see that mongo glass of margarita there in the foreground? The one he almost can’t see over? The one that’s obviously bigger than my camera and most American babies? We ordered “margaritas” and the waiter totally just didn’t even ask and slipped us the “ridiculously large margaritas” instead. Actually, I guess, at the time we were sort of annoyed. But perhaps they just remembered us?

Also…oh, sigh, I’m almost not even sure of whether I should really admit this or not. But so we ordered queso, right? And as the waiter set it down, just as he was turning away from it, the vibration from the thump of the bowl against the table…well…it started the, ah, ant that was on the bowl up from his hiding place. There was a giant black ant on the underside of the bowl which, just as the waiter let go of the bowl and turned his head, darted up and over the lip of the bowl, heading along the rim toward the cheese. Ian snatches out one hand to save the day! Grabs that thing under his thumb and spirits it away beneath the table. We both glance up, make eye contact, and we make a decision….

Fuck it.

We drank our ridiculously giant margaritas. And the queso was delicious.

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