You mean rodents like…me?
You mean rodents like…me?
Forever and ever, amen.
Feast your eyes on the world’s most iconic sandwiches.
All about this post.
Me this weekend
No, I mean yes….?
From Lumpia Prito, Brooklyn. Published in Put A Egg On It #8.
See! Seeeeeeeeee! It was an awesome day.
Put A Egg On It is always looking for writing, photography and drawings by people who love food.
We’re interested in essays and art that document the culture and community surrounding eating and cooking; work that explores the historic, artistic and metaphysical qualities…
what the fuck
if i ever neglect to reblog this assume i’m dead
I love this man. All yelling aside, I’m impressed that he ate 3 sandwiches in one sitting. Anyone have a lead on one of these panda sandwich cutters?!
Hayao Miyazaki, making fans hungry since 1968.
I’m back, I’m back. Need to regain my footing. New posts commence soon! For now, enjoy some reblogging of stuff I like!
Randwiches is on vacation in Hawaii. Please enjoy these guest posts from friends, family and trusted advisors.
I have an insatiable curiosity when it comes to new junk food. If there’s a new Doritos flavor, I’ve got to try it. Somebody figured out a way to use chicken instead of bread? I’m there. So when Taco Bell announced that they were going to start serving a new breakfast menu, I began counting down the days.
With my dear friend and podcast co-host Adam Maid along for the ride, I ventured forth with my eyes on the waffle-surrounded prize. We rolled up bright and early to the nearest Taco Bell, walked up to the front door, and realized that we had driven to a weak link in the chain of restaurants: the Greenpoint, Brooklyn location’s doors would be locked tight until 11am. No breakfast served.
Luckily for us, Queens (a.k.a. Brooklyn’s Canada) had a Taco Bell that served exactly what we needed: garbage food. As Adam and I stared up at the menu, we strategized: there was no way we could each order every item, eat it, and not have our receipts technically count as suicide notes. Instead we would team up and order everything between the two of us (and split a four-pack of the Cinnabon Delights). I walked away with the Waffle Taco, the Breakfast Burrito, and Taco Bell’s version of coffee: Mountain Dew Baja Blast. (They also serve normal coffee, but I don’t touch the stuff, and yes, I recognize the irony in me having a pretentious attitude about drinking coffee in an article celebrating Taco Bell breakfast.)
Waffle Taco: It’s trying to be a McGriddle, with its syrup-injected wrapper, but it’s basically like eating a sausage, egg, and cheese sandwich in a soft, squishy piece of bread. It’s fine for what it is, but didn’t exactly inspire me to Live Más®.
Breakfast Burrito: As a longtime lover of McDonald’s sausage burrito, this was an impostor to the throne. So far I was more disappointed in this breakfast than my wife was in me when I told her I would be eating Taco Bell for breakfast.
A.M. Crunchwrap: While I was sadly picking at the only enjoyable part of my breakfast—the hash brown—Adam ate his A.M. Crunchwrap: a flour tortilla, stuffed with egg, cheese, a sausage patty, and a hash brown, folded up and grilled. But then there’s a little surprise: a creamy jalapeño sauce. Adam described it to me and I became visibly sad. “Do you want a bite?” he offered, gently. “No,” I said with a sigh. “I’m sad because I’m probably going to go buy one.” It was 10:58; a mere two minutes before the big plastic menus flipped around to hide the breakfast offerings. I made the walk of shame back up to the register and sheepishly ordered my Crunchwrap. I only ate half of it, but it made the trip worth it.
Adam and I sat in the booth, trying to regain control over our bodies, which were interpreting the food in our guts the same way they would bullets: poorly. As we attempted to wipe the hybrid sausage/waffle grease from our palms, I joked that the Taco Bell breakfast doesn’t come with napkins because you’ll never truly be clean again.
As we left, a man at the counter argued with a manager. In the time it took him to peruse the menu, the clock had struck 11 AM and breakfast was officially over. The AM Crunchwraps became PM Crunchwraps, and the tacos lost their waffles and became Dorito flavored. Angry Guy pounded the counter and stormed out.
I’d like to say, “But he was the lucky one,” because that’s a nice, poetic coda, but I’m not. He missed out, I will eat this food again, I will regret it, and one day I will die. The end.