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UPDATE: The actual shirts will look like this.
Cod fave Hugh Acheson tweeted: Check our fine t-shirts at the Empire State South shop! And coming soon is my "Monobrow Preservation Society" t-shirt! Evidently, the brow is taking on a life of its own, and props to Hugh for rolling with it.
Through sources, we were able to get a leaked version of an artist's conception of this design:
Save an XL for the Cod!
Rick's Picks is throwing down tonight at Tammany Hall. You may or not be Boss Tweed, but you'll be able to see if the Classic Sours have as much zing as a Thomas Nast cartoon:
*See here for the context.
A few questions for oyster lovers, and the folks who pander to them:
Restaurant folks: If a restaurant has oysters priced at, say $10/half dozen and $17/dozen, and you order six of one variety, do you ring that as $10 + $10 = $20, or at $17?
Also, what is the deal with Ameripure oysters? The cinetrix and I tucked in to some last night at a dreadful new spot in the upstate. They tasted like pieces of those white Crocs that nurses wear. The Cod's got nothing but love for Gulf seafood, but these oysters give Gulf oysters a bad name. Zero flavor, zero salinity. It was like the Sani-Taco of oysters. It's a curious buiness proposition, as the marketing hook seems to be reducing levels of pathogens I've never heard of, and would be happier not knowing about. I can understand concerns about BP related chemical contamination, but bacterial contamination would seem to be a whole other kettle of fish. Given the general cluelessness of this outfit, they could have done something like rinsed the oysters prior to serving. (Ordering poboys outside the 504 is like kissing gila monsters, but hope springs eternal. Ford's take on the roast beef poboy is something between pulled pork and sloppy Joe in texture, on a hot dog bun. It made me pine for Domilise's, even if I had to watch a loopof Tyree's catch Clockwork Orange steez, while Eli pinned my arms back, and Peyton fed me.*)
*I am aware that that may well be what this lady would ask Make-a-Wish for, which makes one of us.
Jette kind of stole my thunder, and grabs takeaway #1 and #1A from the Heffernan-Hesser discussion*:
Indeed. Amanda Hesser's baby takes the morning train, but so does Hesser -- she gets off at the Times and her husband gets off at the NYer. I got a pitch from the folks at Parade a while back I'd been meaning to share. Parade, the mag that comes w/ some Sunday papers (Walter Scott, where ya at!) has a supplement of its own:
It's nice that bold, ital, no cap dash is helping "busy moms balance the demands of work and family with the daily 'dash' to get meals on the table." Another thing that can help "busy moms balance the demands of work and family"? Hint: it starts with "D" and rhymes with "plaid." You might expect this kind of outlook from a jawn that still runs The Lockhorns, but you kind of expect a more progressive outlook from a paper that's been printing same-sex wedding announcements for close to a decade. And it's happened before, and elsewhere. There are as many ways to divide the labor of a household as there are households, and it could be that Hesser and Heffernan's husbands are doing more than their share elsewhere, but it seems that even as men "love to cook (showy, spectacular special occasion food, it's still the ladies who make sure the kids don't starve to death between roast chickens.
That aside, props to Heffernan for delaring she does not like to cook. And props to Hesser for pointing out cooking or not cooking is not an all-or- nothing deal. Unfortunately, Heffernan clings to her weird binary, insisting "I’ll never believe that foodie eating is more convenient that hacky eating."
Thanks, as always, to Penny Pascal for the Peerless Photoshopping of this portrait of noted husband Arnold Schwarzenegger.
*Side question: if this were a film, would two women discussing how to feed their respective kids pass the Bechdel test?
Anyway, play us off, Sheena! (Apologies for the ad, but the actual video is BANANAS: her "baby" is an an engineer! On a train! And they ride on it together! All day!)
Any top anything list is by its nature a troll.* Even with a subset as small as, say, best post-SST Husker Du recordings, opinions will vary. That said, consider the Cod duly trolled. Via cinetrix, via Bust, the top 50 women in food. To speak plainly, the list is a fucking joke.
Having just finished Blood, Bones, and Butter, the which I recommend, and will write more on soon, I was curious to see how far up the list this trailblazing Beard medallioned and Bourdain adored badass would be. Not there! But her sister is. (Yep, me neither.)
If you caucused a bunch of folks waiting for a Cinnabon to open, you'd
probably get a more comprehensive list. No Ana Sortun, or Jody Adams, or Barbara Lynch, or Lydia Shire, and heck, not even a field entry for Bostonians who happen to have both ovaries and restaurants.
*Beginning the list by folding Streep into the Julia Child entry, and ending the list w/ Julie Powell makes me think the folks at Gourmet Live were trolling for Cod.
I will poach on Obama Foodorama turf here and point out that while David and Samantha Cameron may live in a CB2 catalog, it also appears likely that the PM is just off camera, extolling the virtues of Huey Lewis and the News to Michelle Obama. Let's hope not!
It is fun to laugh at the follies of your parents when they were roughly your age. But! For example, at some point in the future, the author and the subject of this article will have to explain to their kids that "curating food trucks" was an actual thing people said they did in 2011.
If, say, Tom C. had to fill in on guitar suddenly, and I had to take over this responsibility of curation, you better believe that these would be my main criteria:
1) Justified
2) Ancient
Play us off, KLF:
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