From the Department of Stuff that Tickles My Funny Bone…

So…Ruby Tuesday has a commercial about all of the changes they’ve made as of late…and it features a guy who goes around the restaurant and switches the plates and lamps and uniforms and stuff. But my FAVORITE part is when he asks one of the waitresses if she likes long walks on the beach and she says, “Yes,” and he yells out, “Now you like dirt bikes!”

But, sadly, the restaurant now seems to air only an *abbreviated* version…and this does not include that particular exchange.

Thankfully, the longer one can still be found on its Web site: Our TV Commercials.

Single Brooklyn Pizza Lovers, Your Soulmate Awaits.

Was walking by the new pizza place in my neighborhood last night and saw this:

NEW Singles’ Pizza Party

The sign in the window promises a “dazzling night of pizza-related activities.”

Also enjoyable: “The Singles Pizza Party is BYOT – Bring Your Own Toppings!”

Brought to You by the Letter "I"

I *still* haven’t seen Into the Wild. (I had an opportunity when it was in the theater when I pounced upon some poor lad eating a knish outside Sunshine Cinema while I was working on my Yonah Schimmel story…but it was early in the school year and we were having “objectivity” shoved down our throats, so when he asked if I wanted to see the movie with him, I felt I had some moral obligation to decline.)

But I’ve *wanted* to see it. I’ve heard such good things about it. And when I was in Denali after graduation, we drove by a river and our tour guide said, “Remember the river that the guy in Into the Wild couldn’t get across? That’s it.”

So…I sort of bookmarked it in my head and finally got around to seeing it during unemployment.

And I was sooo excited at the very beginning of the film with the guy writing a postcard from Fairbanks…and all the initial shots — the Big I! Soapy Smith’s!…but then, as the majority of discs from Netflix are wont to do these days…it ground to a halt. And even after wiping the stupid thing with a damp cloth, it was *still* unplayable. (Same thing with the copy of “La Vie en Rose” they sent me. Shame on you, Netflix. If this happens again, you may get an angry missive not unlike the one I sent to FreshDirect when it forgot my hamburger buns. Woe betide!)

But it was still exciting to see familiar landmarks for a brief, shining moment. The Big I is right across from my mom’s office. (It is also, coincidentally, a country station in New Mexico.) And she’s retiring soon! So soon it will be right across from just another office building…

Great. Claire. Cook.

I’m fact-checking a story about a Scandinavian restaurant in Hong Kong. It has a Danish proverb on its Web site: “Food tastes better when you eat it with your own spoon.”

—

I visited a friend in Copenhagen in the early part of the decade…and we stayed with her friend, Eric…and he spoke frequently of Danish pork during the trip. So…for a long time, I thought pig products were a big Danish export.

It wasn’t until a couple of years later that I made a comment related to what I presumed to be true of the Danes’ economy when my friend said, “I don’t think pork is as much of a Danish thing as it is an Eric thing.”

Oh.

But then I met the Danish National Ballroom Dancing Champion of 1986 at a mutual fund conference in Miami…and *he* told me that bacon is actually really popular there. So. We were sort of both right.

Riblet: one of the rib ends in the strip of breast of lamb or veal.

I found it mildly amusing that the NYT had to define “riblet” for its audience in the third paragraph of its Applebee’s story today.

Kim Severson doesn’t really seem to hold back in this one. Like…”Among the dozen dishes on her table that day was the Georgia praline peach streusel pancake, a dish so sweet it made a Butterfinger bar seem like a refreshing palate cleanser.”

Also? Why do you suppose the CEO is called the Velvet Hammer? Because she really likes Tia Maria?

Who knew pork pies were so sensual?

Pork Pie Baking Contest Planned

A pretty dramatic quote: “Pork pie connoisseurship uses all the senses. First the pie is held up to the light, to admire its colour and structure. A good pie must not mind being probed, prodded and poked and, when sniffed, it must have an aromatic bouquet. First the crust is nibbled and savoured. Then the wedge is bitten into, its jelly swilled from one side of the mouth to the other.”

Stumped on where to find great catfish?

Undoubtedly the most comprehensive list of Mississippi catfish restaurants ever compiled:

www.catfishrestaurants.com

Spam’s Inevitable Comeback?

Spam Curds are a Hit at Minnesota State Fair

Really? I’m thinking something like prosciutto or even salami would be better than spam. (Just wait ’til the New York State Fair next year…?)

Nevertheless, best line ever: “Arnold, who works for Newly Weds Foods in Chicago, had company researchers spend months looking for the perfect batter that would adhere to the square Spam chunks.”

Also enjoyable: “‘At the state fair last year, we opened up over 6,000 cans of Spam,’ Duren said. ‘During the 12 days, there were six days for six hours at a time where we were 30 to 40 people deep waiting in line for our products.’”

Desperate Freelancer Bakes, Does Cocktail Research

So…my main reporting class was getting together this weekend and our esteemed host told me he was making a pie.

And…it’s kind of hard to explain why this made me want to put on my game face and make him rue the day he thought he could bake, too…but it kind of did. The best explanation I can come up with is that it’s like that Desperate Housewives episode in which Bree is doling out responsibilities for a potluck and claims dessert for herself and the new neighbor says she’d really like to make lemon meringue pie but Bree tells her she can’t…and then everyone is eating the pie and saying that it’s the best pie ever…and it turns out that the new neighbor switched pies and so it was *her* pie they were all raving about…and then Bree was desperate (and a housewife) to find out what the secret was. That’s *sort of* how I felt. Maybe not breaking-into-his-house desperate. But slightly desperate nonetheless.

(It was also a little like the time I found out my boss had hired a woman from Alaska who baked. I couldn’t help but worry I was losing my schticks and would have nothing left to distinguish myself.)

Our host is delightfully healthy and made a tofu key lime pie based on his mama’s recipe. Which in and of itself is pretty amazing to me as I don’t really trust myself to make up recipes…and this is, like, virgin territory for him. It would be like me dirt biking.

I, on the other hand, used a square springform pan in a subtle nod to one of our classmates who couldn’t be there and made a key lime cheesecake. I sort of waited until the last minute, so I was worried that it was not going to have enough time to chill and congeal and really turn into something good…but luckily there was enough pre-dinner chatter to buy me some time.

And, you know, mine was clearly not good for you…and got nice reviews. But I have to admit the tofu thing surprised me. It was very good for what it was. I probably still won’t go vegan…but it’s nice to know that if I did, I’d have options.

Another classmate coincidentally came into a lot of Maine blueberries and was looking for a way to incorporate them into the festivities…so initially we were going to do a dessert, but that would have required making plain cheesecake and I’m afraid my competitive streak got the best of me. So…instead, he froze the berries and I did cocktail research and found this: Blueberry Limoncellos. A *little* embarrassing that it comes from the Safeway Web site (which actually sort of reminds me of this: crapping around). But it wasn’t not bad. Not bad at all.

A *Little* Out of Left Field.

Okay, so, not so much food-related…but, best headline ever: Ashley Tisdale Creates a Stink with New Deodorant Campaign.

And…how happy is this woman that she finally got married?