Drinking sports drinks with dinner is about as elegant as it gets. Nothing compliments a beautiful cut of meat or fish like artificially flavored nectar of gods. Painstakingly milked directly from Zeus’ left tit. It’s also great for replenishing electrolytes lost from sweating during a challenging artisan meal. The problem with so many different flavors is that it can leave people with cardboard pallets embarrassed and overwhelmed. Knowing the proper Gatorade food pairing can make the most feeble simpleton into a sophisticated gourmand.
Pairing 1: Fruit Punch Gatorade paired with 50 year dry rub aged Wagyu beef, pickles ramps, aerated house made kimchi purée
Let the high fructose corn syrup gently massage your tongue just like the tired muscles of the cow you’re eating after a long day of grazing in the scenic hills of a rural Japanese farm. The toothsome red potion prepares your taste buds for an onslaught of gorgeously funky flavors that will make you question if what you’re eating is actually beef. The electrolytes function as transportation as they wash down the beef, contributing to a lengthy pastoral finish. The contrasting flavors of sophisticated frat jungle juice and rustic farm to table are simply to provocative to resist. Add in the pickled ramps and aerated kimchi because adding anything pickled and or aerated makes it refined by default.
Pairing 2: Lemon Line Gatorade with free range pan seared marlin drizzle with vintage distilled Evian parmesan glaze. Served on a bed of organic, gluten-free, apple cider vinegar glazed kale
A rather predictable fusion of citrus and sea, however the quaintness of such a pairing is actually the culprit of every foodie’s love affair with it. The irony behind conforming to such traditional tastes only increases the intrigue, as the descent into traditional rustic fare provides both comedy and deliciousness. The braveness behind such a plebian effort is an applaudable feat alone. An underhanded ode to those with unevolved pallets.
Pairing 3: Grape Gatorade paired with made from scratch, individually crafted bowtie pasta, basted with an unpasteurized creamy Rosé blend, topped with a healthy pour of unrestrained black truffle shavings and unrestrained aged cheese
Every foodie knows a meal isn’t officially Italian until it’s been sufficiently covered in lavishly expensive black truffle shavings. And what better way to wash down those individually, hand crafted, raw bowtie noodles than a drink that resembles the crudeness of the grapes found in the vineyards of Tuscany? The buttery artificial grape flavor is the perfect vessel for unpasteurized cheese. It propels the artisan meal down your throat like a cool stream running through a tiny village in Italy completely unfazed by time. The marriage of sweet and savory creates an umami that is completely and utterly unrivaled, so don’t even try.
Hollywood, CA-The show Man vs. Food on the travel channel is seeking a new driveling slob to function as a beacon of sadness for all of humankind to relate to. The previous Man vs. Food host Casey Webb, who replaced the rapidly deteriorating Adam Richman, left the show after a dispute in his contract in which he refused to eat a rotting donkey carcass in front of a crowd of nude elders in a sauna at XSPORT Fitness. Though a week before he had consumed a cat turd off of a white hot hibachi grill, there are some lines that can’t be crossed.
“We’re looking for someone whose face can contort in such a way that the audience can visibly tell their organs are collapsing. Their eyes should be those of someone being held hostage under threat of physical violence if they don’t finish whatever grotesque bucket of slop we pile drive down their drooling cram hole,” said Man vs. Food recruitment manager Alphonso Knutson.
The turnover rate has been incredibly high for the host of the show as all prior hosts have succumbed to the same fate of a blown ring piece caused by a several month long fart.
“Someone who is discernably spiritually and physically unwell is the ideal candidate, extra jaundiced and oddly sweaty if possible!” continued Knutson using a plunger to shove an 8 lb burrito down the new hosts trembling lips.
Chicago, IL-After being spiritually and physically demolished by a neglectful, bordering on oddly resentful, wait staff, a heaving tray of unmistakably raw chicken wings and a sex on the beach garnished with a sexy fist sized chunk of dander, one brave Midwestern couple decided to draw a line in the sand.
“I told my wife, look we’ll suffer in silence here for another two hours, consume the raw wings (bones included), drink the pube forward cocktail, and when they come over to ask if everything is alright we’ll smile and nod like two sniveling pissants, that could be considered revenge in itself, but there’s a storm brewing too!” said Michael Violi raising his head barely out of the toilet bowl from which he had been puking in the past two days.
The storm he referred to was a staggering 3% knocked off of an already generous tip. The unbridled and awe-inspiring power of true Midwestern scorn. An act of such incredible defiance by a Midwesterner that he could be reincarnated as a glory hole in a northern Indiana Cracker Barrel bathroom.
A lesson to all that as a Midwesterner, we will never cause a scene, never draw attention even in the most excruciating scenario and suffer in consuming silence, but in some cases will only leave a tip that is only slightly above what is considered an adequate tip amount.
Editors note: a representative from Butcher Box reached out to me directly and explained that the extra shipping time was because of the 4th of July, I just got another box, completely frozen. I will be assembling the meat into one giant log and consuming it with a pint of Red Stag, Kid Rock’s cherry flavored whiskey.
Butcher Box is advertised as a local butcher’s hand selected meats shipped conveniently to your door, which would absolutely be true if the local butcher’s shop kept their meat in a deflating baby pool of old bath water behind an abandoned Cracker Barrel and the butcher himself was a Ted Nugent impersonator fucked out of his mind on acid who seemed indifferent as to whether or not you lived or died.
In some ways I would have preferred that to my experience, at least an Instagram with the right filter applied, playing in a pool of festering meat would have garnered a modest amount of likes from fellow beef enthusiasts. The prospect of dying at the hands of a fully nude Ted Nugent impersonator would make a hell of obituary as well.
Instead I waited an inexplicable three weeks to receive a box of sustainably sourced, barely cooled meat which I responsibly and soul crushingly tossed in the trash can. Farm to dumpster. A pasture in the heart of the Pacific Northwest trash vortex. An iconic celebration of goddamn waste. The chicken could have been used in a super soaker at a summer cookout.
The type of waste that is truly heartbreaking.
It was certainly an honor to flippantly throw away an entire box of animals and I’m sure they were just as grateful to give their lives for the sake of burdening someone with immediately discarding their corpses. I got a refund which is a plus, but goddamnit this is a Mickey Mouse operation.
Chicago, IL-In an effort to monopolize the niche market of obligatory, thoughtless gifts that no one really wants and are ultimately a burden for all involved, Edible Arrangements has expanded their line to go beyond just soggy, heart shaped cantaloupe chunks.
A deluxe line of arrangements has just launched for that mildly special someone that qualifies as slightly more important than a basket full of browning apples glued into the shape of Danielle Bregoli’s face. The Incredible Edible Ground Round Nibbler is the perfect gift for that person in your life that may or may not be a fan of 60/40 blend ground beef.
Not only is the basket stuffed to the absolute brim with cooked and uncooked ground beef hunks that are crudely fashioned into varying benign shapes that a marketing team spent countless hours arguing over, the entire basket itself is woven from ground beef and slathered in Worcestershire sauce.
Imagine the look on someone’s face when a sagging plastic bag full of ground beef and loose marinade is placed in a precarious place on their desk. The prospect of a beef themed sack threatening to explode and contaminate everything the person owns is a true display of affection.
So buy the Incredible Edible Ground Round Nibbler for someone you’re indifferent about today!
Myrtle Beach, South Carolina-After decades of painstakingly seeking the cradle of Mexican inspired American-tourist forward cuisine, Celebrity Chef Rick Bayless has finally unearthed the mossy keystone from which everything was born. Following several days of grueling travel to reach a remote fishing village known as “Myrtle Beach,” Bayless set forth to uncover the mysteries that had lay dormant in the city’s underbelly since the beginning of time.
In particular, a quaint beachside bungalow known by locals as Señor Frog’s became an object of fascination for Bayless. Señor Frog was originally a name given to a beloved goat who regularly graced the bar that kind of looked like a frog if you were drunk enough, he was immortalized in the bar name after being decapitated in a gruesome Jet Ski accident.
Bayless spent countless nights there, submerging himself to the point of madness, as wet t-shirt contests were held, lava lamps were butt chugged and free beer koozies were given to people who agreed to be kicked in the nuts by Dog the Bounty Hunter impersonator. This was culture. This was heaven.
“Farm to table nitrous balloons, hand crafted Red Bull Vodkas rimmed with organic Stacker 2 energy pills, 60/40 ground chuck blend shaped into a fist, and a VR gravity bong experience, will all be available at my new restaurant Donkey Dick’s Bar & Grill,” said Bayless furiously scribing pre-emptive Trip Advisor reviews.
The bar will cater to people who want to appear interesting and adventurous but are actually quite dull. Wading through a cultureless abyss of Michelob Ultra buckets and acid fueled three legged races.
Chicago, IL-A relaxing barbeque amongst friends transformed into a knock-down-drag-out drinking extravaganza in record time over the weekend. Like all Chicago barbeques, food was meticulously curated and friends and spouses alike agreed it would be the perfect opportunity to enjoy some good food, good company and perhaps even a beer or glass of wine before retreating home to watch a movie and get an adequate amount of rest before the impending work week.
As the day progressed, and one beer turned into a handle of Rumplemintz with a carton of American Spirits to boot, it became apparent that food had lost relevancy. The early start of the BBQ, originally functioning as an early curfew safeguard, ended up merely piling on additional hours of frenzied drinking.
Prospective burdens of the week melted with the ice in the cooler, and a feeling of regal invincibility settled in as wine glasses swelled like the livers they poured on. Monday would never come, or if it did it would surely be someone else’s problem. The impending hangover would serve as a lesson to employers, a reminder that wrestling with Monday hangovers are as much a part of the weekend as Sunday drinking.
As the barbeque concluded, the guest’s divinity receded with each glass of water, each minute of restless sleep, and they became fully aware that Wednesday would be the next time they felt human.
Chicago, IL-Sitting down and paying $50 for a glass of tomato juice with Popov, a sliver of translucent bacon and some sopping wet eggs you can see your reflection in, is a favorite past time for most Chicagoans. As is engaging in a war of attrition against a crippling hangover that is pummeling you closer to the pavement with every excruciating moment as you stand in a lengthy line, waiting to eat half of whatever slop you order before succumbing to booze fever and nausea.
Your eyes calculate if the water glass on the table could withstand a stomach sized load of bile.
Contributing to these feelings is the table adjacent, containing a smug looking man with a goatee and a summer scarf, a woman with oversized sunglasses dressed head to toe in luxury athletic apparel, and their diarrhea snowflake…Jake. Though never actually addressed as Jake, his behavior and look suggest it as the most likely name.
The idiotic salon styled Mohawk. The soiled little league jersey. The perpetual fart stream. The unmistakable look of complacency that accompanies being worshipped as a god and breast fed over the age of 10. Jake exists in every brunch, happening at any given moment, past, present or future. He doesn’t give a fuck about you or your hangover and he’s having a “me day”.
His parents will look on with pride as their perfect creation hauls ass around the restaurant, stomping toes, flicking boogers and ripping eye stingers. We all deserve to share in this prize they’ve selflessly delivered to the world. We all deserve to have an already idiotic morning ritual ruined by the likes of a privileged insect and his disinterested parents.
Realizing that the majority of the country has no chance of actually making it to Friday to seek refuge in their customary garbage piles of bogo knuckle steak jammers, jalapeno shooters, nummy chicken nubbbies and vodka mudslides, TGI Fridays has launched TGI Wednesdays.
Described as “a midweek, strip mall orgy on a budget,” TGI Wednesdays hopes to provide a haven for the majority of the country that require getting blacked out and eating shitty food on a Wednesday to maintain sanity in the otherwise brutal state of humanity.
There will be some certifiable psychopaths in tow, as is the case with any TGI Fridays location, but for the most part TGI Wednesday will cater to the disgruntled after work crowd who have spent the entire day churning out digital waste comparable in quality to the shoddy décor in a Wednesday themed bar and grill.
With a menu that encourages gorging your sadness into oblivion, the feeling of being uncomfortably full will soon distract from what ails you. The TGI Beef Fingers, a 60-40 mash of ground chuck shaped into a knotted human hand, deep fried Barefoot Rose’ and garnished with ostrich feathers are certain to loosen your worries and tighten your waistband.
Wash it down with a frosty mug of cocktail award winning Puckered Brown Eye and watch your cares melt away like the ice your stagnant cup of nutria infused Sour Apple Pucker. Forgetting about family and loved ones and knowing only the unique warmth provided by a franchised casual dining establishment.
The slogan for TGI Wednesdays has been confirmed as “Fuck it, it’s Wednesday”. So treat yourself with a full blackout for making it halfway through another forgettable week.
Bubba Gump’s Shrimp-Nestled into one of the more secluded and unknown parts of the city, in a quaint part of town known adoringly by locals as Navy Pier; Bubba Gump Shrimp will submerge you in the scenic waters of Lake Michigan. Unfortunately Bubba Gump’s is only for the most hardcore of seafood snobs, offering up unorthodox interpretations on shrimp like popcorn shrimp and coconut shrimp (both styles uniquely Chicago) and a variety of intriguing pairings for the seafood like Moscato and Samuel Adams Boston Lager. The perfect romantic place for an anniversary or to show off the diverse offerings of a big city to an out of towner. Bubba Gump’s Shrimp will bring any seafood gourmand to their knees and have them begging Poseidon for one more piece of buttery flaccid shrimp!
Margaritaville-Adjacent to Bubba Gump’s Shrimp is a charming beachside bungalow called Margaritaville. The perfect place to take a load off and enjoy a few $9 domestic beers. Nothing will melt your cares away faster than listening to, local favorite, Jimmy Buffet’s Cheeseburgers in Paradise on repeat for the entire duration of your meal. It’s the absolute perfect escape from big city living, a little slice of trendy 1940’s Tiki culture right in your own backyard. People will be amazed at the authenticity of the décor and the cocktail program that only uses artisan flavored silver rums like Parrot Bay. No shirt, no shoes, no problem…it’ll be our little secret.
Rainforest Café-Perhaps the most discreet restaurant in Chicago, there is no way for anyone (except veteran Chicagoans) to tell that what lies inside is a gorgeously exotic rainforest themed bar & grill. The ingenuity behind a hyper real amazon experience is unrivaled. The misters will turn any entrée into an elegant soup, and at points the dark, hot, cramped space can make you as delirious as a Malaria induced fever. The smell of dirty diapers is a true bonus and the souvenir shop is ripe with treasures that will be conversation starters for decades. Do you have what it takes to survive in such a new and unusual neighborhood spot?
ESPN Zone Chicago (CLOSED TO PUBLIC, BUT AVAILABLE THROUGH A SECRET HOBBIT DOOR LOCATED IN THE BASEMENT OF EATALY)-Anything with Chicago in the name will clearly be the life force of the city, and ESPN Zone Chicago is no exception. A family run post-futurist restaurant with plenty of eye candy found in the thousands of inescapable plasma screen televisions. Nothing like supporting the local economy with this mom and pop run restaurant. They provide a modern twist on old classics like deep frying chicken tenderloins and deep frying mozzarella cheese. What could be more modern and edgy than having 0 interactions with the person you’re out with? Have a mixologist craft you up a toothsome whiskey and coke to go with staring lifelessly into a monitor, what better way to enjoy the sights and sounds of a big city?!