Who Wrote That Shit? A Retrospective on the First Month of 79 Food By #ChefKouz

How many words does it take to guess the author of 79food posts? We'll use a standard p-value of .05 for these decisions. Posts where the author is explicitly mentioned in the title are not analyzed.

JM Curley's

            "I saunter into the dim establishment, hands crammed into the pockets of my jacket..."

After two words here we're at 95% Gene, 1.25% each other dude being ironic. Dim pushes us to 99.99% and establishment seals it. My only question here is why didn't he describe his jacket in more detail? What kind of threads you rockin' there bro?

Verdict: 2 words

Finals Mix 2012

From the title alone we're at 85% Nick, 5% Gene (which would be pretty much only Gaslight Anthem and Polar Bear Club), 5% Elias (Jack Johnson and Skrillex), 5% Robby (indie-folk and Christmas dubstep).

            "Thank you so much for your support. Who knew that three (or so) weeks ago..."

Gene's eliminated by this point. I'm giving his 5% all to Nick, who we can declare the writer of the post with a p-value of 0.1. By the time we get to "rando facebook friends" Nick has crept up to 95%.

Verdict: 49 words

Oral Tradition, Shared Culture, and the Bash Bros Showdown

Jadler and Elias are immediately eliminated, since they were in the showdown. The title makes Gene a heavy favorite here – I'd put him at 85%, Robby at 10%, Nick at 5%.

            "Sometimes I like to think about situations I am in as if they were a movie or a TV show..."

Gene.

Verdict: 20 words

Iron Chef 79: The Battle of the Bash Bros

This might be the toughest one yet, but we can quickly eliminate three chefs to make it a two-horse race. It's definitely not going to be Josh or TrollFroFlo, and the fact that a 6-year-old could understand the entirety of the first sentence ("Tonight at 8, the battle for Bash Bro kitchen supremacy will be decided once and for all") eliminates Gene.  The rest of the first paragraph isn't too enlightening – I've got 65% Robby, 35% DH at the end of it. However, the matter is quickly settled.

            "Chef Profile: Joshua Robinson Adler"

Middle names is such a wobbly thing to do that the z-score for Robby here is off the charts. We're done here.

Verdict: 80 words

79 Chef Madden Rankings

I don't know what to say here besides this was obviously Jadler's idea. Honorable mention for Robby but Jadler is at least a 20-1 favorite here.

Verdict: 0 words

Fridge Conflicts Abound

This quickly becomes a toss-up between Robby and Jadler (Nick and Elias are mentioned in the first sentence, and Gene shortly thereafter). They've got similar blogging styles, so it's tough to  say. "Thing is, when you buy groceries, you have to then put those groceries away," has me leaning towards Robby, 55% to 45%. There's not much else to make me lean either way until Robby is mentioned by name. I guess this is Jadler's post then, and easily the toughest one yet.

Verdict: 118 words

Thanksgiving Fridge Clean

Not Elias, but this could be anyone else except Gene. There's not much to go on here and after reading the whole post I'm at 35% Jadler, 35% Nick, 30% Robby. Turns out it's Jadler

Verdict: 49 words

The Tortured Cry of a Boca Grande Enthusiast

This is Gene, and he's wrong.

Verdict: 0 words

Foodmaster: An Obituary

I'm hoping this is a guest post by Nino, since getting deals is his jam and there were few better places to get deals and/or food poisoning than good ol' Johnnie's. My money is on Robby until we hit "weird organic shit," which any good phun phriendly pharmer has to love (Gene is out here too, by virtue of writing and food styles. Nick becomes the favorite now – 50% –  with Jadler and Elias both at 25%. Elias doesn't seem as cheap as DH and Dingus, so soon we're at Nick 70%, Josh 30%. Nick is gaining for the rest of the post until we hit the Fox and the Hound reference. Now there's no doubt. Nino wrote this post. Dammit.

Verdict: 337 words

An Oral History of Putting The Goddamn Empty Ice Cube Tray Back In The Freezer

This post is way too long and uninteresting to actually read. A quick scan shows a conversation between Nick and Josh. So it's one of them. Turns out it's Nick.

Verdict: No contest

The Spice Rack

The vocabulary in the first paragraph whittles it down to Gene and Robby, and I've got Bob-O as a 2-to-1 favorite given his Maryland affiliations, and that's state's love for Old Bay, which is mentioned in the title of the post, contrasted with Gene's love of commas, of which there are many in this sentence. As soon as "real Iron Chef, none of that America crap" comes out we know it has to be 79's resident hipster snob Jose Xavier Ignatius Bartholomew Buonaccorsi.

Verdict: 68 words

Robby and Jadler Use Ingredients

Coin flip, especially given their aforementioned similar blogging styles. However Robby is mentioned by name so it's gotta be Joshua Robinson Adler.

Verdict: 51 words

Restaurant Review: JM Curley's

I saunter into the dim establishment, hands crammed into the pockets of my jacket, eyes darting towards the bar, painfully unaware of the burly older gentleman in the Nike sweatshirt asking for the details of my party. Luckily my associate, one R. Asa P-H, has taken the point on this one and as he bargains with the gatekeep I evaluate the scene. Couples with death grips on each others hands, cautiously conversing in low tones so as not to violate the tiny privacy barrier hovering in the 5 inches between their tables and the tables of the other couples. A strangely circular ballet. This writer wonders if a family style smorgasbord would not serve to entertain the diners further, but something tells me that the clean cut man in the blue polo wouldn't want to brush arms with the curly haired, atari t-shirted wonder plopped next to him. No matter, the logistics of this idea are complicated and, in fact, completely tangential to the meaning of this narrative.

P-H parts from his conversational counterpart and returns to discus with myself and our third, the final piece in the puzzle. This associate has transferred to a nameless state lately, preferring instead to be defined by one pink, pom-pomed winter hat and others' attempts to qualify the garment into a phrase or noise. I am too smart for that business and instead communicate directly, forgoing the naming conventions of the modern world. After all, who I am to judge his self-representation, a rose by any other name and such... but I digress. P-H has struck a bargain allowing us to be casually swept to the end of the bar for an hour whilst they ready a table. Drinks will be served with a smile and a glance to our shady demeanor, but we needn't accept either, the drinks will do just fine thanks.

A mere twenty minutes later and we're eyeing the chef's offerings like rabid hogs. Had we known that our journey would stall at the prospect of a horrible table to hungry mouth ratio we surely wouldn't have allowed starvation to drift into the afternoon. The plight of the restaurant industry is greatly exaggerated (or is it understated? I struggle to decide) but this Curley's carries a tone of steadiness. I pay my silent respect to JM himself and sip my gin and tonic modestly, suddenly hoping that the man I so rudely brushed off at my entrance is not the namesake. However, I will not bore you with my musings and instead will move to the food.

A corner table becomes available and my companions and I wander towards it, allowing P-H to again move first as he shoves a humbly bearded man to the side and steps one foot onto the booth stating, "here we shall dine, good sirs." The waiter, a simple man with a deep v-neck, seems unamused by our aplomb but concedes. We make quick with the menu -- brined cucumbers, dredged and dipped in oil, followed by finely chopped cow's meat patties, earnestly stocked between the two halves of a leavened bread ball. As we sit we converse amongst ourselves -- politics and love for the most part, each of us struggling to be the Casanova and the Castro of the crew concurrently. It all ends in a beautifully jumbled mess, not unlike the plates of food that are sat before our ravenous mouths. We hardly pause to thank the service before tucking in.

20 minutes later and the table is clear with only dabbles of grease remaining alongside the handful of curled potatoes that escaped the plate upon arrival. A small crowd of fellows has gathered to marvel at our gusto, but we pay them no mind, choosing instead to pick our teeth and praise the meal we have just consumed. The settling of the bill is meaningless and thus, I shall skip it, instead choosing to note the high ceilings of Mr. Curley's hall, both in physical and culinary terms. Eyes beady, I gazed upwards wondering what miracles of philosophy had escaped northwards from the mouths of the diners that night and eventually concluding that if my own party was any standard there was nothing but hot air to go around, and that was just fine for now. Upon our exit the portly doorfellow again approached us and this time I saw to our conversation with kindness, exchanging a cheerful farewell and expressing my desire to return. One quick round of fives between my companions and I outside the tavern and we were off into the Boston night.

Do and Don’ts of 79: An Outsider’s Guide to Cooking in 79’s Kitchen (brought to you by Eric Shaw)

            Temporary contributing writer Rickles here.  One of the few problems with the blog so far is the relevance it has to people who don’t actually live at 79; however, for anyone who has hooked-up with someone, passed out, or otherwise spent a lot of time at 79[1], cooking food in their kitchen is necessary.  You never know if you’re gonna need some mac n’ cheese or a Trader Joe’s frozen meal at two in the morning.  Below is an easy-to-read guide in Do and Don’t gimmick format

Don’t use their grill unless you like your food burnt.  That grill has two heat settings: High and holy-shitballs-did-we-just-transport-to-hell.  Not to mention the fact that it is a standing grease fire waiting to happen.  Seriously, only the most skilled of cooks and firemen should approach that metal fire hazard.

Do use their toaster and Panini maker.  These are the two most reliable appliances in their kitchen and consistently produce edible food in an easy-to-make manner.

Don’t steal Nick’s frozen Oreos[2].  He gets very, very mad (uncharacteristic I know). 

Do steal Elias’ Oreos.  He doesn’t eat them often and has been known to let them go stale.  You’re actually doing him a favor.

Don’t do dishes.  They will all just assume that Robby forgot to do them.

Do rinse out solo cups.  For your own health.  You never know what was in those cups or if you’ll have to drink out of them.

Don’t steal a piece of Jadler’s chicken parm calzone. (Editor's Note: Seriously. Don't do it)

Do nicely ask for a piece of Jadler’s chicken parm calzone.

Don’t eat your food on the kitchen table.  That table is for drinking purposes only and its cleanliness reflects that.

Do eat your food on the coffee table in the living room.  Oh wait, they got rid of that.  Pricks.  Just eat your food off the fucking floor like an animal[3] and leave all your goddamn dishes there too for people to knock over and spill.

Don’t use their aluminum foil or Nick will get unreasonably angry at you and Gene will agree with a yelling Nick for possible the first time in their storied relationship

Do use their paper towels or paper towel substitutes.  It’s not like they paid for it and Jesus Christ, you’re just trying to clean up a part of their house that you may or may not have thrown up on.

Don’t sleep on the couches.

Do sleep in Robby’s bed.  He likes to snuggle.

That’s what I have so far but I expect to be around these parts every once in a while so keep an eye out.  Whenever you hear someone throwing up in the second floor bathroom or a spilled drink on the living room floor, I’ll be there.

---

[1] I consider 79 a fourth home^A. My power rankings of my homes: 1. 40 Ossipee 2. My home home  3. The rez. 4. 79

A. Besides footnoting the footnote, the purpose of this footfoot note is to give you my qualifications.  I have spent most of my time drunk at college for the past year and a half at 79 as well as living there this past summer on the third floor.  The third floor kitchen is so small that even hobbits find it oppressive so I spent a lot of the summer cooking on the second floor.

[2] The only frozen dessert item that I think Nick likes more than these are Klondike bars and if you steal one of them he will actually kill you.

[3] Still cleaner than the kitchen table

79 EarFood: Finals Mix 2012

Dear 79 Food fans,
Thank you so much for your support. Who knew that three (or so) weeks ago when Jadler started this wee Blogger site, that it would evolve into the behemoth (ehhh sorta) that it is today? Given our number of viewers, we clearly have a lot of rando Facebook friends checking this site out, which I personally love. So to all you kids who I haven't spoken to in years, keep up the good work.

Anywho, onto the real point of this post. I got bored in the library and made a finals playlist. It can be found here. Go enjoy it.
--Nick

Oral Tradition, Shared Culture and the Bash Bros' Showdown

Sometimes I like to think about situations I am in as if they were a movie or a TV show. Last night was one of those times -- as I sat in a fancy restaurant on a date enjoying expertly prepared food, while knowing in the back of my head that there was utter carnage occurring simultaneously in the 79 kitchen. I see this scene playing out as a back and forth between settings -- imagine my waiter describing the glaze on the persimmon I'm eating then cut to Jadler screaming at Gully while Elias and Pudge read the directions on a canister of bread crumbs. The Emmy is waiting.

Anyways, the point is that I missed a large part of last night's showdown and my only choice was to relive it through the Homeric storytelling of my friends and (more reliably?) through that ubiquitous and wonderful tool of communication and new journalism: Twitter. Here are some of the highlights.







The first thing that became apparent was that Jadler did not even make an attempt to cook anything. As predicted by 79Food analysts DH "Boomer Esiason" Adolph and Robby "Steve Smith" Perkins-High Jadler's strategy focused on making Elias do worse rather than his own success. Tales were related to me of Jadler's efforts to gain more time, as well as Gully's immediate grabbing of the reins. Well done Fernster.

One thing that escaped the lips of spectators but becomes apparent reading the Twitter feed is that Elias and sous chef Pudge actually displayed some alright cooking techniques. They chopped and mixed and made a pretty solid pie from pizza dough. Props for that.

On the flip side, it was readily evident from both Twitter and fans alike that the scene in the kitchen was absolute chaos. While the official title of the event was Iron Chef, the event ended up more like a mash up of American Gladiators and Extreme Home Makeover. I'm surprised no one signed Ryan Seacrest to host. There was food EVERYWHERE and inexplicably so. How was I to explain the cumin I found under the stove? What about the worcestershire sauce in the egg carton? The mind boggles.

For the sake of our Klout score I'd like to note how well we engaged the general populus in this event. Rumor has it that people were tuned in across the globe to the goings-on, showing that despite the goofyness of our actions people actual give a shit about what we're doing for the simple fact that it is entertaining. That warms my heart.

Due to the fact that I did make it back in time for judging, the last point that revealed itself was how irrelevant the actual food was. This was a bonding moment for some, a competitive exercise for others and an exciting battle for all. When it comes down to it, no one will remember who's cuisine reigned supreme last night, but we will remember the highs, the lows, the tears, the glory and the deep fried pie that Ferny made.

Party on.

DH and Robby's Battle of the Bash Bros Preview

After much speculation, Jadler’s 2013 Chef Rankings were finally released on Tuesday. Critics and spectators alike were shocked to find the bread-loving Elias Kahan in last place. Kahan had previously wowed housemates with his mozzarella-basil-tomato pasta, and annoyed them with incessant questions regarding how to cook anything and everything (including conversations with his mom in front of the TV about how to cook the aforementioned pasta dish, which is especially remarkable since the dish is simply pasta mixed with raw mozzarella, basil, and tomato).
These same critics and spectators ceased being shocked when they realized the chef in second to last place was the piece’s author, Josh Adler. Despite the fact that these rankings were clearly biased, Elias remained upset over his placement, and was described as “rattled” by 79 analyst “Big Bucks Benny” Ewing. DH questioned if this was what led Elias to send out dumb emails, but then realized that he had been doing that since before the rankings were released.

This actually happened.

Bread Lettuce’s complaints soon turned to cries of conspiracy, citing questionable scores of 2 in “General Awareness” and 4 in “Intangibles”. Tensions rose as the intriguingly hairy faces of both men moved closer and closer, and cries of “Come at me, bro!” hurtled through the air. It was clear that there was only one solution...

IRON CHEF 79: The Battle of the Bash Bros
Because who needs Iron Chefs 1 through 78?
  VS   

Tonight at 8, the battle for Bash Bro kitchen supremacy will be decided once and for all. In one hour of pure, uncut, man on man action, each contestant will be required to make a meal out of various ingredients supplied by DH and Robby. A panel of celebrity judges will have the final say, evaluating the meals on the grounds of taste, presentation and originality. Oh yeah, and intangibles. Can’t forget those.

Chef Profile: Joshua Robinson Adler

Style: Traditional Canadian

Strengths:
- Top-ranked microwave user. While this may seem like a joke, there will be limited oven space, so competitors will need to be scrappy in there
- Common sense
- Blatant disregard for societal norms

Weaknesses:
- Unsure if he knows how to operate an oven. Or the toaster for that matter
- Will probably try to make a homemade Lean Pocket out of whatever ingredients we give him
- He’s really never made any food for himself. Unless reheating a Trader Joe’s pizza counts. Which it doesn’t
- Laziness: He may actually just give up

Projected Performance:
Josh will most likely eat a decent portion of his raw ingredients before he cooks anything. After that, it’s really anybody’s guess. He’ll probably try to make a calzone and/or Western Omelet. When that fails he’ll scavenge up a Lean Pocket.  

Chef Profile: E Bro Tro Fro Flo Lias Lias Lettuce Kahan

Style: Fratboy Oriental

Strengths:
- Went abroad to Hong Kong. May bring some oriental spice to 79’s kitchen
- Has cooked food before
- Burning need for validation

Weaknesses:
- Has needed to ask for detailed instructions on how to cook anything
- Long hair may cause multiple health code violations
- Easily rattled by heckling
- Store your opened tomato sauce in the fridge, not the pantry, Elias

Projected Performance:
Will try for roughly 15 minutes to ask the audience 1.) for advice on what to cook and 2.) how exactly to cook it. After this fails, he will attempt to throw random vegetables into a large tupperware container with some pasta. He’ll probably end up leaving the gas on the stove running and kill us all.

Jadler’s key to success:
Hit early and hit often- Let’s be honest, Jadler’s success hinges on Elias making bad food, not Josh making good food. Rather than attempting to “cut”, “bake”, or “saute” his own food, Jadler’s efforts should be focused on mentally mincing Elias into a whimpering puddle.

Elias’ key to succes:
Win the microwave, win the war- As Diet Coke is to Jadler’s consumption, the microwave is to his cooking. If Elias can monopolize the zapper, there is very little chance that Jadler will even make an attempt to cook his ingredients. It’s unclear if he even knows where the oven is.

PREDICTION: Jadler 0, Elias -7
After becoming more concerned by Cenzo breaking his high score in Geometry Wars in the living room than making food, Jadler will take a moment to collect his thoughts on the couch. He will promptly fall asleep. Elias, victory seemingly in hand, will don the gorilla suit and pound the troll pecs. But with no one to reference, he will settle on serving his salmon “au natural”, coating the raw fish in a thin drizzle of molded tomato sauce. With the judges decidedly food poisoned, the Bread Man will pull off the unprecedented negative score in the 0-20 scale. Victory, Dingus.


Be sure to follow the event live tonight with @79food, starting at 8pm Eastern.

Lunch with Gener: Episode 1

I'm a man who likes lunch. As an athlete, I think about it as halftime of my day. I take a seat, give some high-fives and plan for the rest of the day while I refuel.

Join me, as I take you on a journey through the sustenance I choose for these brief reflectionary moments.

The Post-Thanksgiving Sandwich:

Leftovers are the anomaly of modern American eating. As a culture with a high cholesterol and low consciousness, we are inclined to order a lot, pig out and chuck what remains. The decision to keep food for the purpose of reheating or even reinventing a meal may be on the decline, but Thanksgiving dinner lives on as an indicator of leftovers' potential.

This morning I found myself pressed for prep time but craving something more than my usual PB and J. Hence I dug into the Tupperware that my mom sent me back to 79 with and designed this behemoth of a sandwich. Home made bread (try to keep up pepperidge), yams, stuffing and cold turkey. Prepped and in the bag in 3 minutes. I can already see my coworkers salivating.

79 Chef Madden Rankings - Numbers Don't Lie

Key Highlights:

Elias (worst chef): 50.18

·      Cooking Knowledge - 28 - Kid cooks a pasta dish or makes Trader Joe’s easy to cook meals.

·      Creativity - 14 - Literally no variety or inspiration, just the same pasta dish every time.

·      General Awareness - 2 - “Yeah I can talk on the phone now.” - Elias, in a room with 4 other people and the TV on.

·      Use of Primary Sources - 97 - Elias’ strongest (maybe weakest?) point - he very effectively asks people how to do everything.

·      Durability - 23 - A rib injury has kept him out of yoga for almost a month now. Squid.

Josh (4^th place); 58.35

·      Willingness to Cook - 2 - pretty self-explanatory, will  do anything to avoid cooking, including splitting food with Robby so he cooks it for him.

·      Cooking Knowledge - 9 - Nowhere to go but up. Jadler hits a ceiling at complicated foods such as tortellini and western omelettes.

·      Microwave Ability - 98 - He really just blows away the competition here (besides DH), with an uncanny ability to make almost anything in the microwave, including but not limited to lean pockets, beans, and bagels.

·      Cook Speed - 95 - Directly related to his microwave ability, Jadler’s longest cook time might be however long it takes to make rice - but he’s usually done in under 5 minutes with everything else anyways.

Nick (T-2^nd place): 74.35

·      Creativity - 97 - Dickhole will throw literally anything into the croc-pot or a”salad” with no regard for convention or past precedents.

·      Microwave Ability - 94 - Second only to Jadler, kid knows how to get a quick meal out the microwave.

·      Ordering Take Out Skills - 99 - Literally no one has more experience than Nick at this. Again, his disregard for widely accepted conventions really helps him here, such as the 11 am Chinese food order or the calzone order at literally anytime of the day.

·      Use of Primary Sources - 0 - Call it pride, call it apathy, but Nick never asks for anyone’s help or opinion. Can be heard yelling, “I don’t need this!” when unsolicited advice is offered.

Robby (T-2^nd place): 74.35

·      Potential - 95 - The flashes of brilliance that Robby has shown and his family’s remarkable prowess make the sky the limit for Bobby.

·      Cooking Knowledge - 93 - Knows when and how to use things such as olive oil and online recipes.

·      Willingness to Clean Dishes - 2 - “I have no issue cleaning other parts of the house, I just don’t like dishes.”

·      Flick Huck - 90 - He just throws dimes, although his backhand huck is much better.

Gene (1^st place): 81.24

·      Willingness to Cook - 96 - Gene loves the satisfaction of making dinner, whether for himself or for friends. Gene is Taylor’s role model in the kitchen.

·      Willingness to Clean Dishes - 93 - Nothing Gene hates more than dirty dishes, especially when no one cleans the pots. But Gene aggressively washes his dishes his immediately.

·      Microwave Ability - 65 - Barely scraping by with a passing grade, Gene believes in things such as the “oven” or “cooking things on the stove.”

·      Food Stores in Case of Emergency - 14 - Just a barren shelf of perishable goods. Elias has plenty of pasta and bread products for the long haul, Jadler has frozen goods and Hurricane Sandy worthy quantities of knock-off Frosted Mini-Wheats, Nick has a freezer full of meat and Robby has enough Wheat Thins to last at least a week.

Fridge Conflicts Abound

We assembled a crack squad of me, Nick, and Elias and made a rousing trip to Trader Joe’s. Thing is, when you buy groceries, you have to then put those groceries away. Naturally, Elias decided that his “space” was occupied, so he moved some mystery Ziploc containers to a different section of the fridge. Predictably, this was Gene’s, and his return home after a long day of work and going to a concert was met with the distress that can only come from hidden groceries or an unplanned pregnancy.

• “Who the fuck does he think he is?”
• “Does he think he owns the fridge?”
• “I’m going to put this shit on his bed.”

Luckily, Robby and I were here to witness this sleep deprivation-inspired meltdown and have the perfect forum to document it.

But seriously, Elias come home, there is garlic bread dough rising in your pillow case. 

From Nick Adolph’s Cookbook: Chil-Bo (Chili/Gumbo Fusion)

Background: Great recipes are born when Big Daddy Necessity takes Mama Opportunity out for a night on the town, gets her drunk, then seduces her back to his room to watch “Fern Gully.” I heard some serious bed-squeaking going on in my Croc-Pot last night, so I knew that today would birth a glorious recipe (don’t worry about how pregnancy works in this ridiculous abstract world I’ve created. This isn’t fucking “Inception.” I wrote this post in 10 minutes because I was bored. Deal with it). Anywho, I had a monstrous can of red beans that I wanted to cook up so I invented this recipe. Enjoy!

Ingredients:

1 large can of red beans. I’d say around 24 ounces, but larger works too. You could also get two small cans if you don’t understand economies of scale.

½ a can of corn (I would estimate this at around 1 ear of corn)

3 sausages, any type. I used spicy chicken, I would imagine kielbasa could also taste good.

2 red peppers

2 cloves of garlic. I would have used more but I was stealing them from Robby and felt bad taking more.

2 sweet onions.

Spices
I don’t claim to be a food expert. You can really throw anything in. Here’s what I used. I don’t have quantities because I don’t measure – I cook on raw instinct and talent. My kitchen presence is a whirlwind of raw emotion and profanity.  

Thyme

Salt

Oregano

Chili Powder

Paprika

BBQ Sauce

Cumin

I also would have used Cajun seasoning, but we didn’t have any.

Directions:

Seriously? You need directions? If something’s too big, chop it up. If it’s too small, you’re screwed. If it’s the right size, toss it in. If it’s a spice, dump it in. Don’t worry about cutting yourself, because chicks dig scars/ moody guys with dark pasts.

Serving Instructions:

Serve in a bowl with a side of sliced ciabatta. Garnish with parsley. Goes well with a dry white wine. Just kidding, eat it straight of the Croc-Pot. No dishes and you won’t seem like a pretentious douche. Enjoy!

Thanksgiving Fridge Clean

Found in the depths of our fridge as we clean before Thanksgiving break. Really brings up two important questions: What exactly is that disgusting creation? And secondly, which is worse, the bag itself or Elias' hair half done in corn rows?

Happy Turkey Week! 

Love,

Breadie, Jadler and Robby

The Tortured Cry of a Boca Grande Enthusiast

This post can only start with one statement. I love taquerias. Yes, I know love is a strong word. This is love. This is not what you feel when you sit in the back row of Ec 5 and stare at the girl playing on her iPhone. This is not what happens when you go on a couple of dates and start sending each other flirty texts. I am in a passionate affair with the glorious, semi-authentic creations of these unassuming holes in the wall. This is some Casablanca-esque, earth-shattering, re-imagine your whole existence business. I speak strongly because I care. I care oh, so much.

With that on the table, I have a bone to pick with Tufts students, Cambridge residents and that dude who runs Boston Tweet. Anna's is not as good as you all think. Now, before you get out your Pitchforks and give me a 0.0, allow me to qualify this statement. I will go to Anna's. Hell, I'd say that I really like Anna's. BUT, everyone who insists that Anna's is the Michael Jordan of speedy taquerias can get their idol worshipping jig out of my face. The portions are admirable, the chicken tastes just like the carnitas and they will put a fresh avocado in your burrito for the price of your first born child. If we're talking real quality this side of the river, though, I'm all about Boca Grande. This has incurred about as much hatred from my friends and acquaintances as if I'd personally put tacks in all their breakfast cereal. Alas, I live on to make this impassioned argument.

The first redeeming factor about Boca is their meat variety. Rather than that one dry chicken flavor (don't even mention that chicken ranchero crap, I'm doing a favor by leaving that out) that Anna's leaves in a sauna for 4 hours prior to selling, Boca has multiple delicious varieties of chicken. If I'm feeling like pineapple chicken, boom. Maybe I'm craving lemon chicken in my burrito. The number of choices is allows me to fit my experience to my preference much like old folks can choose their retirement home in the Florida city that gives that wonderful restaurant its name.

The tamale though, is Boca's masterpiece. Those torpedos of deliciousness are something that probably keeps the owners of Anna's up at night crying and shaking. At the conclusion of his hunger strike opposing British colonialism in India, Gandhi demanded 8 chicken tamales from Boca to bring him back to full strength. Rumor has it he was deadlifting 250 that afternoon. Discovering the tamales at Boca after years of microwaving the Trader Joe's version was a revelation. It's like I had been blind, then starting seeing in black and white when I had those Trader Joe's packs. Finally, my miraculous recovery concluded with my first Boca Grande tamale and now I see in color. Being a medical miracle is sweet.

There are plenty of arguments against Boca. It's not in Davis Square. It's a little more expensive. It takes a couple of minutes to heat up the tamales. I say boo-hoo to all of these. My love for this place is never ending. I've had to be physically restrained from standing outside the shop with a boombox playing Peter Gabriel while I wait for it to open in the morning. Now that I think about it if I haven't convinced you to try it, I honestly don't care. I pen these words in the spirit of Phillip Sidney when he wrote Astrophil and Stella. My representation of this glorious yet tortured love affair is an affirmation to myself that I fully understand its meaning. Ye old reader can emulate my action and live by this scripture, but you will never feel what I feel for burritos and tamales from Boca Grande. Suckers.

Foodmaster: An Obituary

The Somerville population was recently dealt a crippling blow with the news that the beloved Johnnie’s Foodmaster would soon be closing. Foodmaster was more than just a grocery store. It was a place for the community to come together. A cool, safe place for children to hang out at after school instead of experimenting with drugs. A place where 79 Ossipee guys could buy cheap alcohol and take it home to experiment with.

Foodmaster was the diamond in the rough of area grocery stores. It didn’t pretend to be better than it was, like Shaw’s. It didn’t try to solicit me with Hawaiian shirts and admittedly delicious free samples, like Trader Joe’s. And it certainly didn’t convince me to eat weird organic shit, like Whole Foods (No thanks, the only chia seeds I’ll be buying are gonna be filling in bald spots on my Elmer Fudd Chia Pet).

Foodmaster gave me exactly what I expected from a grocery store located just feet from the Projects. Cheap-ass food. More cheap-ass food. Lottery kiosk all up in your face as you walk in. 4:1 knockoff brand to real brand ratio. Refrigerated meats. They had it all.

The organization was a class act. These employees lived and breathed Foodmaster. Unworldly commitment. Never before have I seen grocery-baggers who would follow you out to your car to make sure that you didn’t steal the shopping cart (Yo, chill, I need this for the hurricane). They also weren’t hesitant to put you in your goddamn place if you wasted their time. If you bothered them with a stupid question like “where is the brown sugar”, damn right they’d either respond with a random aisle number between 1 and 12 or direct your ass to the baby-care section.

Last week, I returned one last time to pay my respects. I entered Foodmaster that day with a few bucks and a heavy heart. I left with some 50%-off whoopie pies. But more importantly, I left frightened of the future. Like the baby fox, Todd, in The Fox and the Hound when his mother dies and he is left alone. An orphan in a frightening world. Foodmaster, you had my heart when your ‘D’ light lost power and you became Foomaster for like 7 months until they fixed it. Damn, I’m gonna miss you when your lights go out for good.

An Oral History of Putting The Goddamn Empty Ice Cube Tray Back In The Freezer

           There are some habits that are menial. You can go through life without even knowing they exist. There are some habits that are of the greatest consequence. You go through days avoiding relapsing into the groove of past actions, of a regularity that you wish to avoid. Then there are the habits in the middle. This is a story of those middle-habits.

Nick: 

The act of putting an empty ice cube tray back in the freezer is more than simple laziness – it is a defiant act of chaos. It is Nolan’s Joker personified by a domestic act, an intentional act of kitchen terrorism. It requires someone to not only have the laziness to not fill up the ice cube tray after use, but to then exert effort into putting the tray back, thus taking up space in addition to giving false hope and the appearance of readily available ice.

Josh:

As someone who moved into 79 a year after DH, Gene and Robby, my big ideas about house living often fall on deaf ears. I generally don't care very much about many things, but sometimes I want some ice cubes in my drink.

Nick:

I am a big dude who sweats, drinks, and works out a lot. It creates the perfect storm for water consumption, and I like that shit cold. Not having ice in the freezer elicits the kind of anger in me that is rarely seen outside of a youth hockey game.

Josh:
I am a minimalist in almost all aspects of food preparation, from food prep time to dishes used. I make exceptions for ice cube trays. That shit takes time to freeze. Rome wasn't built in a day. It baffles me that someone could have so much hate in their heart that they wouldn't refill the ice cube tray for the next overheated person looking for a refreshing beverage. The betrayal of putting the empty tray back in the freezer is of Benedict Arnold proportions and must never happen again.

Nick:
It is simply an inexplicable occurrence. I even bought extra trays to ensure that I'd always have ice on deck, but this was met with immediate (not to mention suspicious) anger, the problem being freezer-crowding. In retrospect, this would probably only exacerbate the issue, but at least now we can play moose with the extra trays.

Josh:
The first time that I encountered this man-made disaster, my reaction was a mixture of distress and anger. I assumed that my housemates would feel a similar desire to find the culprit and make sure something like this never happened again. Alas, I was scoffed at and the ice cube tray troll strikes occasionally.

Nick:
Luckily, now me and Josh have each other. And no one can take that from us. Not even the mysterious ice cube bandit. 

The Spice Rack (or How I Learned to Stop Using Recipes and Just Put Old Bay on Everything)

It would seem, dear reader, that no collection of cooking tales would be complete without a description of the culinary wonderland that the chefs inhabit. Thus, I will dedicate the next few lines to a snapshot of the place we call home.

For those unfamiliar with our kitchen, it can be best described as a homeless man's Iron Chef arena (real Iron Chef, none of that America crap). It's layout is similarly ridiculous, it's contents equally erratic and it's cooks just as experimental. Located just to the upper right of our champion of a stove/oven unit (freezing to burned chicken in just 30 seconds) is the staple of all kitchens: a spice rack. Okay, it's a cabinet not a rack, but no one asked you Giada.

When I first moved into 79 I remember trying to organize the spice rack, which was then just a pile on the counter. After finding 4 separate containers of Oregano, 2 unopened, my exasperation led me to move on and just ignore the hodgepodge of flavors that our past tenants left us. During the great kitchen upheaval of 2012 we finally converted the spice pile into a cabinet and rid the counter of the gunk (think 4 year old fudge sauce) that lived on that side of the counter. Shout out to Jadler's panini press for working wonders with the newly opened real estate. Anyways, this spice rack relocation finally forced us to complete the task I had started one year early, and decide what to keep and what to toss. After a long debate of the worth of duel cumin shakers, we decided that there was no need for multiples of anything (or even singles of most things, but that's beside the point).

I want to make sure at this time that I don't completely misrepresent the subject. Many a stir fry has been livened by some crushed red pepper and that thing of Bouillon cubes must have regenerative powers because it has never once run out. I guess the message I am trying to convey is that, like many of the features of this squalid manor that we dwell in, our spice rack/cabinet/pile is subtly effective. It is frustrating at first, but in time you come to realize that you need it as much as it needs you. It is comforting in its chaos, a reminder that functionality is not always defined by quantity (do less Carter) and that, while we may feel out of control in this rapidly moving metropolis , it's still our damn choice if we want to put basil or Italian seasoning (which are definitely the same thing based on a study I conducted) on our sautéed onions.

Hey, spice rack, never change. Cause if you did, we'd have to move some of glasses into that cabinet and then we wouldn't have anything to accidentally knock off the counter and shatter.

DH Reviews the 79 Chefs

Gene: You can’t mention 79 food without mentioning Gene. His style has been described as “nouveau-American” and he surely wins the superlative of “Best Smelling Food”. Gone are the days of Tofu stir frying and broccoli steaming, as Gene has turned his back on his younger days of cooking decidedly pussy-ass meals. Gene can now be seen whipping out multi-pound teriyaki tuna burgers while sipping a Gin and Tonic.

Elias: Elias’s cooking is, to put it blatantly, a caricature of its creator, and a microcosm for the world that we find ourselves in. It is marked by a certain need for external validation that encumbers greatness while achieving a consistent level of mediocre goodness that is hated by none but loved by just as many. Elias can be consistently heard asking how to marinade a chicken. Not to dwell on this hilarious gap in Mr. Breadie’s culinary knowledge, but this has been a constant issue for him, dating back to a time when he needed to call Phallus to ask him how long he should cook chicken for. Despite his struggle to find banal answers that most humans would be able to figure out through simple trial and error, and that are similarly available on the internet in a total fact-finding process that would take the average college student mere seconds, Breadie has used his network of human resources to develop a solid cookbook. These foods include an oversized Tupperware filled with pasta, mozzarella, tomato and basil, and going to Dave’s with Scottie.

Robby: Robby’s food consumption and creation is much like his love life – capricious, inconsistent, sloppy, but somehow above average. The greatest flaw in Bob-o’s food preparation is his food clean-up, a process marked by a balls-deep apathy and a general lack of the typical human feelings of guilt for messying others’ living space. I personally question Sam KS’s influence on this newfound trend. But putting instances of weeks-old mac and cheese behind us, Robby has made many contributions to the gastrointestinal habits of the cookie cave. He is the most prolific contributor to the group food fund, and this quantity is by no means hedged by quality – I have dined on many a fine cookie and chili provided by the Perkins-High home. In general, Robby is a staunch under-performer. We have frequently seen his domestic prowess at Applesauce Day and The PH Pig Roast, but this has yet to coalesce into in-kitchen performance. He is the Wily Mo Pena of 79Food.

Jadler: Lean Pockets. Making Robby cook his pasta for him. Chicken Parm calzones. Easily the worst cook of the floor, and most likely the entire house. Style: “Traditional Canadian.”

DH: DH’s cooking style has been described as “Douchebag Fusion.” Having strayed from his “Blacken that shit” mentality of junior year, DH now opts for tossing Mexican ingredients into the basin-bowl and has even been seen cooking the occasional Crock-Pot stew. The creation of this blog may inspire him to reach new culinary heights. (Editor's Note: Dickhole is a corn dog enthusiast)

Robby and Jadler Use Ingredients

The morning of November 19th saw the inception of the 79 Ossipee food blog. This blog has been in the works for a while now, and only recently did we acquire the resources needed to put it into action. Tonight's meal was inspired by a simple, confusing item found on Robby's shelf. A can of maple syrup. Kind of a one time use thing. So, after using a dash of that in a pumpkin pie recipe for a rousing (and delicious) early Thanksgiving dinner at 83 Ossipee (Twitter: @83Food), our boys prepared to make breakfast foods at unconventional hours.

Since the can had been opened, Robby and Jadler decided to have a breakfast fiesta at 1 am. After leaving the library to watch Hoosiers, these two strapping young fellows assessed their ingredients and went to work on things that taste good with maple syrup. (Side note: Like barbeque sauce, maple syrup tastes good with most things).

After unveiling The Original Circus Waffler (because there is clearly not a lot of competition in the homemade elephant, lion, and clown mini waffle market), these boys got to work. Robby used ingredients while Jadler cleaned some dishes, and the toughest decisions came when it was time to select waffles. As much as it may be debated, lions, elephants, and clowns taste EXACTLY the same when in waffle form. This first expedition took our protagonists through approximately 1/3 of the can of maple syrup.

From there, the decision was made in a unanimous vote that we shouldn't waste that much syrup and should instead make french toast. Questionable actions were taken in this process, including but not limited to:

• "Nah, we don't need to use half of the ingredients, let's make a full batch"
• "Wait the pan's not hot yet, don't put the bread on"
• "So... the pan's hot now, may have burned some french toast"

Jadler's decision to add maple syrup to the french toast batter, while on the surface seems like another mishap was instead met with rave reviews by critics and in no way led to the uncomfortable sugar roller coaster that we are on right now.

Other things to note: Elias shockingly was not disturbed by our nearly silent cooking, even with such a heavy use of bread, and I, Jadler, have no idea whether the 1st or 3rd person is more appropriate for a blog posting so instead used a healthy dosage of both.

After two pitchers of gatorade, we've reached 2:30 in the morning and are ready for the dawn of a new era - mediocre blog posts about the shitty meals that most of us eat. What's next? Who knows? Will it be Breadie's infamous pasta dish? Will Nick again put barbeque sauce, lettuce, and a veggie burger in a bowl and call it a salad? Will Robby cook something and not clean any dishes? Will Jadler find a microwavable dish to use? Will Gene be boring and a real person who makes actual things? The answer to all of these is "probably yes."