Half-Assed Gourmet: DQ is your source for country gravy and toast?

On various "apps" and streaming video services, I keep running into a Dairy Queen ad touting "fan food"--not fast food, mind you, but fan food--in the form of a chicken strip basket. I am not a regular Dairy Queen customer, and it's been years since I had anything besides ice cream, but when I have indulged, I have enjoyed it. I recall the best thing being how freaking hot it was. I guess when you are the only idiot that comes in and makes them fire up the grill for a burger, you have a good shot at getting something fresh and sizzling.

I don't think this promotion is going to lure me in there. The chicken strips look fine--I mean, they're chicken strips; how can they not be--but DQ muddies the waters by introducing an actual murky liquid: GRAVY. It's not just any gravy, it's country gravy.

I hate gravy. I don't like it with turkey, not with sausage, and not with chicken strips. I hate gravy so much that if nacho cheese, which I love, were called Mexican gravy, I would hate it. Under no circumstances do I want any gravy-ish substance in a basket of fast food. How about some honey mustard of buffalo sauce instead? That's how I roll. No disrespect intended to Rural America.

Fortunately, DQ offers its country gravy in a side cup, so I presume that even if I begged them to leave it out of the basket and they forgot, I could pluck it away from the food and hurl it into the sun the way Superman did when Lex Luthor tried to poison the Metropolis water supply with generic country gravy (Ed. Note: See Weird-Ass Adventures #46.4). That's a good thing, but we need to talk about something else, the other thing that the commercial feels worthy of a hearty brag.

This basket comes with toast.

Yep, toast.

Part of the reason I eat fast food is that I want something I can't make at home with speed or ease. Toast is perhaps the single easiest thing one can make. Why go to a fast food joint and pay for it? Even if you consider it a throw-in, it looks superfluous. Chicken, fries...toast. Just how good can it be to make it seem like a big deal? IT'S TOAST!

Are we supposed to dip our toast in the country gravy? We know that ain't happening. Look, I don't mind toast as a delightful complement to real food in a breakfast platter, or as a quick wake-me-up in the morning, but let's not make toast a fast food thing, country or not.

Hey, wait! I just figured out how Dairy Queen can make me care about its toast. Put some ice cream on it, then some whipped cream, then some bananas slices, and then some chocolate syrup. Then just hold the toast, bring me a bill for the banana split, and then you haven't broken any rules.

Half-Assed Gourmet: SO RIGHT micro meals get at least one thing right

As a longtime connosieur of processed microwave-ready convenience meals, I have experienced many small annoyances when reading the instructions. Sure, it's easy enough on the surface--put it in the microwave, heat it up, eat it. Ah! But HOW LONG should you heat it up?

Many of my preferred meals go vague on this one. "Heat for 2 1/2 minutes to 4 1/2 minutes. "Heat for 3 to 5 minutes." This PLUS the standard disclaimer that microwaves are different so preparation times may vary.

That's  why it was so refreshing to see the So Right frozen dinner come out strong: Heat for 4 minutes. PERIOD. Not "3 12 to 4 1/2 minutes." Here is a brand that takes a stand! 4 minutes. Beautiful! No guesswork. Just put it in and GO!

Indeed, I put it in and went. Was it the most delicious meal I ever had? No, but for under two bucks, it got the job done and was good enough for a simple lunch.

It probably could have used another 30 seconds or so in the microwave, though.

Half-Assed Gourmet: Little Caesar's has a cheap pizza that is slightly less cheap than its regular pizza

Can you imagine walking into your local Little Caesar's franchise, striding to the counter, and declaring, "I'd like your SECOND-CHEAPEST pizza, my good man"? Well, you may want to do that with pride if you are interested in the new More! More! More! $6 pizza, a pie 20% more expensive than its standard "Hot and Ready" pizza but...well, how much better IS it?

I can't tell you if it's 20% better or not because I haven't had the hot ready in so long. I had the extremely unhealthy deep dish pizzas, including that bacon-wrapped one, a monstrosity that took months off my life (I regret nothing, by the way), and usually avoided El Cheapo. My memory is that El Cheapo is actually Pretty Bueno, though, especially if you get one hot and ready.

They MUST want you to buy the $6 one, right? I guess the profit margin must be better on that even if there really IS more pepperoni and more cheese and more--Hey, what am I doing talking like an economist when the topic is a cheap-ass pizza?

I mean, cheap is cheap, but, man, I would feel like a SUCKER going in there and getting that $5 pizza now. At the least, I would feel like even more of a cheapskate than I know I am--and that they know I am by virtue of the fact that I am in Little Ceasar's. What am I gonna do with that extra buck? buy breadsticks? No. Buy wings? No. Buy Italian Cheesy bread? No. All that stuff costs way more than a dollar. I might as well SPLURGE and get the $6 pizza.

In fact, on my way out after buying it, I almost wished for some poor soul to walk out with a $5 pizza so I could feel superior. "I may not be living like a Rockefeller, but I was able to spare the extra buck and upgrade my pizza!"

So I guess I should give a review of the product, huh? Well, pizza is pizza. Pizza is good. This $6 pizza is good. I really don't know if it's 20% better than the regular one, but it does seem to have a lot more pepperoni and maybe even a little more OOMPH. I would recommend you buy the $6 one but also get the $5 one, and if you like the $6 one better, throw the rest of the $5 one at the next person who asks why you would want to get either instead of "buying REAL pizza."

Half-Assed Gourmet: Love that chicken from Popeye's, but the atmosphere...

This year, before a lot of you go bird wild on turkey, let me talk about MY kind of dining experience: a trip to a local fast food joint.

A few months back, I mentioned a visit to Popeye's  and how I was disappointed by the location's stingy ways. The new TV ad campaign for Smokehouse Boneless Wings amused and tantalized me,  so I figured I'd give the chain another shot at a different location.

One thing that stands out at Popeye's is the prices. Is it just that chicken is more expensive? Is fried coating/grease so expeensive? Is it the DOWN-HOME/YEE-HAW/RAGIN' CAJUN quality? The fact is if you don't get one of their specials, the regular chicken meals look kind of steep for fast food.

In fact, an ominous sign by the counter gave me a grim feeling as I read that sauces were for chicken tenders only and were 25 cents extra otherwise. Already, my suspicion of the chain's tightwad philosophy was confirmed...or was it?

I did indeed get the Smokehouse Wings, which comes as a 6-piece with a biscuit and a side for 5 bucks. Notice what's missing there? A beverage. We're off to a bad start. I actually anticipated this and considered takeout, but I spotted a self-service drink area. That's about the only thing you can get yourself at Popeye's, so I vowed to take full advantage. Uh, I did that under my breath, not out loud like some kind of super villain.

The food was fine. The Cajun rice was a little bland but a nice alternative to fries. The biscuit was OK. The wings were not really what I'd call wings--more like crispy chicken pieces--but they were tasty.

The accoutrements were the problem. I didn't care for the standard ranch sauce that came with the meal, and worse, there was no butter or jam or anything for the biscuit. So I went to the counter, clutching a handful of change and expecting to shell out for an alternative sauce. To my surprise, the cashier gave me not just one but TWO buffalo sauces at no charge. Maybe she liked the cut of my gib. More likely, that sign is there to deter people who are a pain in the ass about sauces but most workers roll their eyes at the fact that they make everyone beg for all the condiments.

She gave me a handful of stuff for that biscuit, too--two butter squares, one strawberry jam, one grape jam. Well, it was better than nothing, but the paltry butter was useless because it was semi-frozen and I didn't have a knife. The flimsy spork they gave me for the rice wasn't getting it done. I could squeeze the jam out, but it didn't cover much of the biscuit. I split it in half and decorated each side with a different jam, trying to pretend it was a delightful opportunity to sample several different flavors.

In the meantime, the buffalo sauce made me thirsty--I suppose the massive amount of sodium in everything contributed as well--so I made numerous trips to the beverage area while trying to ration the 4 thin napkins on my tray. 4 napkins for a wing meal? Of course there were no napkins anywhere on the "humanoid" side of the restaurant, and I didn't want to go back and ask for more napkins. Naturally I let my nose run all over the table and used my coat and pants as extra napkins.

I'm kidding about that last part--mostly--but let's add up the things I did NOT get with my order:

*Preferred sauces
*Condiment of any kind for the biscuit
*Knife to apply anything to the biscuit
*Adequate napkins
And remember, I had to buy the drink as an add-on.

The good news is that they threw a bunch of chicken-ish pieces in with the box of wings, so it felt like more than 6 pieces. Remember when Long John Silver's would throw in those "crumblies"  with the seafood boxes? Kind of like that except bigger and somehow more respectable because it's not Long John Silver's.

Overall, I enjoy Popeye's food, but this is clearly not an isolated deal at this chain. Maybe it's a better takeout experience than a dine-in. I just don't like having to go back up and ask for things that should be standard with the meal. if you don't want to load up my tray at the counter, just make it available in the dining area.

Half-Assed Gourmet: Red Lobster Endless Shrimp

Watch a football game on the weekend, and there's a good chance you'll see an ad for Endless Shrimp, the annual event designed by Red Lobster to honor and celebrate gluttony all across this great nation of ours. After an unfortunate miss last year, I made my triumphant return to the festivities this year, indulging at a local RL which I hadn't patronized in years.

The shrimp was not great this year, but it was very good. More importantly, it was endless--or at least, ending it was my call, not theirs. One disappointing thing this year was the lack of "off-menu" selections. In years past, I could request coconut shrimp, for example--basically just fried shrimp with a different sauce, but hey, it felt like another option.

This year's roster:

Shrimp alfredo: I passed; I didn't need NOODLES filling me up while I was trying to consume a Costanza-esque amount of seafood.

Shrimp scampi: Assuming "scampi" means "drowned in garlic butter," this is always a great option, and I enjoyed it quite a bit. I was tempted to order some side dishes off the menu so I could dip them in the scampi dish. Heck, before I left, I almost "accidentally" dropped a napkin in there so I could see what it tasted like scampi-style.

Hand-breaded shrimp: Oh, did I say FRIED a minute ago? Please excuse me. The preferred term on the menu is hand-breaded, which I guess sounds classier and...less heart-attacky. Mind you, when I asked my server for hand-breaded shrimp, she said, "Oh, the fried shrimp? Sure."

Nashville shrimp: YEE-HAW! Basically fried shrimp with some kind of spicy powder all over it, which sounds awful but tastes pretty good.

Mediterranean shrimp: Ah, go from the earthy charms of Nashville to the exotic glamour of the Mediterranean with this selection of shrimp seasoned with, uh, stuff. I think lemon? The distinctive thing about this item is the bed of long-grain rice and the skewers. It was delicious. Not the skewers--I didn't eat those, and I even resisted dipping them in the scampi--but the rice.

So that's 5 choices, which feels paltry, especially when one of them doesn't even interest me. I got my money's worth, though, and I enjoyed the shrimp enough to make me think, "Lord, I regret eating like that...but I will do it again next year."

This Red Lobster let me down in some other ways, though. I sat in a weird quasi-lounge section in the bar with a cushy chair that may or may not have been designed to make me forget how much I was punishing my body. The setting was fine, but the service was not. I think I might have received better service in the main dining area.

My side dish was wrong (I know, I know, but if they are gonna offer a side dish with the Endless Shrimp, I'm gonna take it), my drink refills were sparse, I had to ask for more napkins, etc. Perhaps the biggest flaw was the failure to remove dishes from my table.

Look, I am making it abundantly clear in this post that I know what overkill this whole experience is. Yet I don't need to be reminded of such during my meal by having to stare at my used plates the whole time. It's not like I need a tally to keep score of a competition--it's been years since I did that--so, please, folks, out with the old and in with the new. I mean, you can let the scampi dish linger a bit, but other than that, get that stuff out of there!

Overall, Endless Shrimp remains a winner for one reason: It gives me the opportunity to stuff myself silly. The price has remained constant the last few years. However, I hope to see better service next year and maybe a few additional choices.

Half-Assed Gourmet: Fast Food Adventures

Let me present some observations based on recent excursions to various cheap eats joints, or fast food establishments, if you will.

*Burger King is always an odd experience--less crowded than any given McDonald's and somehow less vibrant and appealing no matter the location. It does have some advantages over the Golden Arches, though. I like its willingness to experiment with menu variety.

I tried the returning chicken parmesan sandwich on a recent visit, but my taste buds may have been affected my overall mood. See, I was grabbing lunch while waiting for repair work on my car. I'll say one thing about that situation: Spending hundreds of dollars on something else makes it easy to ignore how much more you pay for that BK menu variety.

In this case, the chicken parmesan sammich was hot and tasted fresh, but it was a little bland. You know what would have made it better? A little more "parmesan" to go with the "chicken" and "sandwich" portions of the entrée. A dollop of marinara sauce ain't enough. A king should be more generous to his faithful subjects...or even to the ones who just blog about him every now and then.

The best thing about BK right now is the newfangled drink machine that offers hundreds of choices and lets you mix stuff together if you want to be a weirdo about it. It's a particular pleasure for me to get not only multiple iced tea choices, but multiple low-calorie iced tea choices. There are also a host of other "diet" (I am not going to call them healthy) options, the likes of which most fast food chains don't bother to offer. I don't know if all BKs have switched to this, but I love it, and it's a big plus.

*I went to Popeye's Louisiana Kitchen for the first time in--well, the last time I went to one, I don't think it was called a "Louisiana Kitchen." The surf and turf combo of popcorn shrimp and chicken tenders was fried beyond belief, likely generic and loaded with sodium...and it was delicious.

Unfortunately, the front counter was disorganized and chaotic, and worst of all, this place exemplifies the odious trend of withholding essential supplies from the patrons and making them beg for them. I get 3 measly thin napkins for an entire greasy meal, and when I grab a table, I discover  there aren't napkins nor condiments anywhere.

No, I have to go back to the counter (did I mention it was disorganized) and ask for not only the "dipping sauces," but also ketchup. I can understand keeping the sauces away from the rubes, but A) not ketchup and B) I should have been offered them when I got my food.

*Chik-Fil A remains the gold standard. Yes, it could be cheaper, but it works both ways in some respects. I love that when I ask for no tomato on the spicy deluxe sammich, they deduct 10 cents or whatever. I recently discovered that you can exchange an unwanted kids meal toy for a dessert. Unfortunately, you can't get the sauces in the open dining area, but they always ask if you want any, and if you need something simple like ketchup, you CAN grab that yourself, and in those cool little Heinz peelable containers, too.

Besides, the employees are friendly and helpful. They actually act like they care if you have a good meal. They sometimes go around and offer you drink refills at your table. If it's all a façade, it's an effective one.

Most importantly, the food is always excellent. I think Chik-Fil-A could up its breakfast game and maybe offer some more salads, but, the basics are great here. I see only 3 reasons to avoid it: 1) You hold a grudge for the political stances the owners took years ago 2) You hate chicken 3) It's Sunday.

Half-assed Gourmet: The Tony Danza Breakfast

Did you read about Tony Danza's secret method for longevity? He eats the same breakfast each day: a banana and 3 breadsticks. He makes 65 look 45, claims the article!

I am not 65, but I want to look 20 years younger! As part of my continuing efforts to expand my palate, I decided to give the Tony Danza Breakfast a try. After all, I love bananas, and I usually have one each day as part of my breakfast smoothie.

So one recent morning, I grabbed a banana and...ate it. Pretty simple.

Then I realized I didn't have any breadsticks.

What am I supposed to do, go buy fresh breadsticks for BREAKFAST? Make them the night before and reheat them? I don't live in Little Italy, you know. I can't just walk down the street at 7:00, whistling and waving to the birds, and buy a handful of breadsticks.

So I scrapped the Tony Danza Breakfast. I can't do that.

What I CAN do is watch an episode of The Tony Danza Show in the morning. So it's kind of like Breakfast WITH Tony Danza. Maybe that will make me live longer and stay youthful.

There aren't too many full episodes online, but the final one is on YouTube:

After making a breadstick-free smoothie, I sit down and start the show. It begins with Danza singing "Start of Something Big," and I am questioning my life choices. I don't mean my choice in watching this clip. I mean my general life choices.

Danza moves into a sad monologue, making some self-deprecating jokes that mostly miss, experiencing some kind of technical issue, and reading a looooong list of thank yous. It's a bad sign that when he mentions its the last show, he gets no pity AWWWWW from the audience.

Next its Extravadanza, a combination of morning show "prove you watch us" trivia and Plinko played with a caller. I have to say, I do kind of miss the word "Extravadanza."

He introduces one of his favorite guests, Liza Minnelli, only she's on the road, and so they have to do a pretaped segment for his final show.  She sings to him, and it's not exactly Bette serenading Johnny.

You never know who will show up on Danza's set, and to prove this "anything can happen" vibe, we get a walk-on from...Al Roker. Next up is a montage of Tony's remote pieces, but frankly I am still too jazzed over seeing Roker to appreciate it.

(I should mention that Danza has long been teased for only playing characters named "Tony," as if he couldn't remember who he was otherwise. This episode has his signature in the lower left corner the entire time. Make of that what you will.)

Friday is Frank Pesce reviews, so Frank comes out live and says his thank you and announces one final review: The Tony Danza Show. He starts ripping everything around him before telling Tony he's the best. A critic should usually stick with his first impulses.

After a break, Tony thanks MORE people. I appreciate the gesture, but, man, we could be watching Al Roker. There is another montage, this one of Tony being charming, tap dancing, saying hi to famous people (some even more well known that Roker), and just working his butt off to entertain.

He ends the show with a final song...from Tony Danza.

It may sound like I'm poking fun at Danza, but the guy is trying, and so his talk show didn't work out. Hey, he gave it a shot. He tried a lot harder than I did at trying the Tony Danza Breakfast, no doubt. I think I'm going to stick to my routine of eating what I usually eat and watching what I want to watch. If I don't look 45 when I'm 65, at least I won't have to be out hustling for breadsticks every day.

Half-assed Gormet: Chik-Fil-A's Berry Protein Blast

You  know, I'd write more about Chik-Fil-A except I have one big problem with it: No, it's nothing political. It's  just that I loathe having to type "Chik-Fil-A" and remember how to spell it each time.

The chain has revamped its menu a bit recently, not necessarily for the better. It got rid of my favorite breakfast item and seemingly raised the prices on everything else. The place has tasty chow and outstanding service, but it's not perfect and it's hardly a "value" compared to other fast food joints, which helps me from going there every week despite it opening a location very close to Cultureshark Tower.

I had a gift card, though, and a desire to reward myself after a trip to the auto mechanic (Every time I walk out of there with any money left in my account at all, I consider it cause for celebration), so I hit the place for breakfast last week. I was thwarted in my attempt to order lunch because  it was too early, but I didn't go all Michael Douglas; the cashier informed me in a polite and friendly manner (there's never any other way at Chik-Fil-A) that I could get lunch in about 10-15 minutes. I settled for breakfast despite the appalling continued absence of the thing I used to get.

After breakfast I decided to try their touted Berry Protein Blast item.  Let me tell you, there is no way I would have bought this had I not been using a gift card. It looked good, but it was something like 4 1/2 bucks. 4 1/2 bucks for a beverage??? OK, a smoothie.  This ain't Starbucks. I know the coffee drinkers of the nation have voted to pay outrageous prices for "premium blends" and fancy caffeinated beverages, but I don't recall smoothie fans ever getting any say in making their preferred treats so damn expensive.

I don't even think it's an issue that ingredients are so expensive. Let's see, berries, some kind of dairy (milk/ice cream), a little granola on top? In a modest plastic cup? Hardly worth $4.50. It's not just Chik-Fil-A, either, although the prices are high across the board there. Go anywhere and look at the beverages: soda, tea, etc. is one price, but introduce the concept of "healthy" or even just "bare minimum of nutritional value," and then you're gonna see a much higher price.

I was tempted to get a milkshake because, even though it was all empty calories, it was about half as expensive and probably twice as big. However, I wanted to try the Berry Protein Blast, so I surrendered my $10 gift card again and ordered one...and I wound up having to surrender a penny out of my pocket.  A basic breakfast meal with no add-ons nor upsizing plus a small smoothie should not cost more than a single Alexander Hamilton. I'd like to think Harriet Tubman, were her visage on the $10 bill, would be appalled that she would not be sufficient for that haul.

Bottom line: Was it good. Yeah! It was quite tasty, and I suppose it gave me a PROTEIN BOOST to kickstart my day.  It's just not worth the cost.  I think smoothie lovers of the world should unite and demand lower prices .In the meantime, I think I'm gonna take very good care of my Magic Bullet.

Half-Assed Gourmet: What the heck is a Whopperito?

I would write more about the happenin' fast food trends in America, but usually by the time I get around to trying a new menu item, it's gone, so forget about me actually getting one AND putting up a post. Last I checked, though, Burger King's Whopperito was still around, so let me share my experience with it.

It began, as I believe all Burger King experiences do, with a discussion about McDonald's, followed by an attempt to go to McDonald's. I actually enjoy BK's burgers more, but let's face it. McD's is number one with just about everyone, my kids included, all things being equal.

Rarely in this world are all things equal, so when my children surprised me with a request to go to Burger King instead, that's where we ended up. Don't get too cocky, though, BK; my daughter suggested the audible because she figured it would be less crowded. She was right, of course.

Earlier that day, my friend and I lamented McDonald's axing of the Southern Style Chicken Sandwich a while back; sure, it was a Chik-Fil-A ripoff, but some of us have to eat on Sundays. Anyway, she mentioned the Whopperito, which I thought was a hoax by the restaurant chain, if not her. "Whopperito!" I scoffed. "That sounds ridiculous!"

Yet as I stood at the counter at Burger King with my kids and looked at the big picture of the Whopperito, I couldn't help but wonder--Actually, I wondered, where the hell did my kids go, as they ran to get a table and left me to get all the food. Then I wondered if maybe I should try this attractively priced, exotically named menu item. I OWED it to my friend to report back, I concluded.

First there was the little matter of investigating what kind of bizarre condiment was ruining the Whopperito. Every new burger has some kind of mayo or special sauce lurking under the bun, just waiting to spoil every bite. I asked the gentleman at the register, "Uh...there isn't any kid of sour cream or weird sauce on that, is there?"

"Let me check," he replied. "No, there's no sour cream."

"You're sure?"

"No, that white stuff is just the queso sauce."

I don't like hearing phrases like "the white stuff" from someone who's about to give me food, and I was tempted to ask him to verify that "queso" wasn't BK corporate speak for "sour cream," but I ordered it anyway. You only live once, and probably barely even that long if you order stuff like Whopperitos.

Longtime readers will expect me to report that there was indeed sour cream on the Whopperito and that it ruined my meal, but I am happy to report the guy didn't do me wrong. No sour cream, special sauce, or anything like that. So right away, Whopperito > Whopper.

This combination of burrito and Whopper includes some beef--ah, wait, ~FLAME-BROILED~ beef--wrapped up in a tortilla. It's lightly seasoned but distinctive enough to let you know it's not a regular burger. Also included: lettuce, tomatoes, sliced onions (Incidentally, the guy at the register wasn't totally on the ball, as the "white stuff" in the pic was the onions), queso sauce, and the only real surprise I found: pickles.

It was bizarre enough that even the kids asked me if I was sure I wanted to eat it, but it surprised me. The Whopperito is rather tasty. The seasoning of the beef is not overpowering, the vegetables added some nice texture and crunch, and the wrap wasn't too wrappy. It felt substantial. Best of all, unlike a Chipotle burrito, it didn't give me E coli.

My complaints: The queso sauce was skimpy. The whole thing was a tad drier, and I think some extra queso would do the trick. The pickles didn't bother me, but I can see a lot of people disliking them in this kind of burrito thingy. Overall, though, the combination of decent taste and low relative price made me feel I got good value from it.

I'm not one of those people who pretends to dislike all fast food or at least feels the need to tell everyone how bad it is. I will admit that if I looked too closely at the Whopperito or saw it being prepared, I probably wouldn't want it. But on this unexpected Burger King visit (again, aren't they all?) it got the job done.

Introducing my new fast food rating system: 1 to 5 stars, with:

5 ***** - Excellent. I'd make a special trip to get the item.
4 **** - Very good. I might get it again next time I'm there.
3 *** - OK, but I probably wouldn't get it again without a deal or some kind of coupon.
2 ** - Did not like, would not get it again.
1* - The thought of it makes me want to go somewhere else.

On this scale, I give the Whopperito ****. Well done, Burger King. I'd still rather have a Southern Style Chicken Sandwich, though.

My complaints:

Half-Assed Gourmet: Cheez-It GRIPZ

Continuing our country's trends of miniaturizing things (by making them smaller for no apparent reason) and of infantilizing them (by spelling them with Zs instead of Ss in a misguided attempt at edginess), the Kellogg corporation has created a product called Cheez-It GRIPZ. Fortunately, these crackers are still "made with 100% real cheese," but in this form they are now presented in crumb form.



The now-tiny crackers come in a small bag that encourages snackers to tear off a corner at the top and presumably drink them. It's too small to fit fingers in there, even if you ARE an infant, so the options are to pour the GRIPZ  bits into your hand or dump them directly into your mouth. If you do tilt the pouch into your piehole and remember to chew the numerous tiny bits, you just might get the equivalent of tasting one regular cracker.

I must admit my kids enjoy this packaging, and maybe this product is better marketed to those who are too young to make intelligent nutritional decisions, anyway. To me, though, this seems an unnecessary creation. I can create my own GRIPZ, if I so desire, by filling a baggie with regular Cheez-Its, sealing it up, then throwing it down on the ground and stomping it.

Half-Assed Gourmet UPDATE

Recently I expressed my discomfort (“bitched” just sounds so inelegant) with McDonald's decision to slap mayonnaise—which has been classified as biohazardous material in half a dozen states—on it's chicken, cheddar, and onion sandwich. Well, you know me and my jet-setting active lifestyle. I visited McDonald's yet again last week and saw a huge picture of this particular entree above a menu. Yes, this photo made it pretty clear that there was some kind of weird sauce on the thing.

OK, so shame on me. But in my defense, I got the chicken sandwich at the drive-through, where 1) they didn't post that picture and 2) even if they did, I never would have seen it because of how they position the menus after the food-ordering speaker, making it impossible to peruse the offerings even when you don't have a line of hungry drivers behind you.

So what I'm trying to say here is, yes, I could have known this sandwich had mayonnaise it, but I didn't, and it's all McDonald's fault, and besides, why don't they make menus easier to read before you have to make your order?

Half-Assed Gourmet: Grilled Chicken, Cheddar and Onion with WHAT?

I somehow developed an affinity for the McDonald's Dollar Menu's CBO burger--that's Cheddar, Bacon, and Onion to those of you who don't have kids who can envision no other restaurant in the universe--and I ate a couple of them for a several visits in a row. It's a simple, modest creation, but something about the way the ingredients combined made it an appealing choice. I decided to change up recently, though, and...go to Ruth's Chris for some steaks.

No, sadly, it was McD's yet again, but this time I got the crispy chicken version of the CBO. Ooh, what a radical change-up, Mr. Shark! Yes, I know, but, boy, did it turn out to be different.

First, let me mention that the chicken CBO is a whole buck more than the burger. That's 100% more. It's still only two bucks, but it's just funny that the addition of poultry elevates this burger out of the Dollar Menu ghetto and up to the big time. Well, technically it's still on the Dollar Menu AND MORE menu, but I think most of us right-thinking golden arches patrons consider the AND MORE section an illegitimate blight on the formerly pure Dollar portion.

Anyway, I sat down for a picnic with my kids and, anxious to try the new (to me) sammich, I tore it open without even acknowledging my fries or sweet tea (all part of a balanced meal, natch). Right away I knew I was in trouble. Big, big trouble.

I saw bread, I saw chicken, I saw cheese, I saw mayonnaise...

WHAT? Mayonnaise?

There was a time when I could count on McDonald's to be the one fast food chain that did NOT insist on treating that accursed extra as a standard ingredient. That time was...just about always. The closest burger joint near me when I was growing up was a Hardee's, which insisted on slopping mayonnaise on all its burgers. I insisted on insisting they remove it, and some of the time they actually did. I still remember my dad's look of defeat as I complained time and again, "Aw, they put mayonnaise on this!"  As Joe Pesci told us, they always screw you at the drive-through.

Yes, I did get this chicken CBO at the drive-through. But I hadn't asked them to remove mayonnaise. In fact, I often ask when I see a new sandwich on a menu, "Is there any kind of sauce on that?" I didn't say anything when I got the CBO. Why would I? There's nothing on the beef version. Who in the world decided the chicken version needed the devil's condiment to top it off?

And by the way, the mayo on this thing wasn't just a topper or an extra. It was all over the damn sandwich. My daughter saw my disgust--come to think of it, it's possible she also noticed me groan, "Aw, they put mayonnaise on this"--and in a calm, measured tone, told me, "You can just wipe it off, Daddy."

I wanted to say, "Oh, yeah? Let's see how YOU react next time I put something on YOUR food you don't like! I doubt you'll be so levelheaded then!" I wanted to say, "LOOK at this! It's smothering my food! I can't just wipe it off!" But I just said, "Yeah, I guess so," grabbed a few napkins, and removed as much of the disgusting topping as I could.

How was the sandwich? I don't know. The fries were piping hot, and the tea was sugary sweet (must be all the sugar), but I couldn't really enjoy the main attraction. Virtually every bite carried a trace of the mayonnaise, even after removing the top bun and scraping down the chicken. I don't know if I can ever order it again. Sure, I could ask them to hold the mayo, but now that I know how much they put on it, the whole item may well be forever sullied.

What happened to you McDonald's? Are you really in such dire financial straits--I think I read your revenues were down like .00003% last quarter, which made Wall Street dizzy--that you have to turn to inferior, un-American ingredients to pad your sandwiches? In protest, I am not returning to any of your establishments.

Well, unless my kids want to go there again. I mean, I'm not gonna be that stubborn about this.

On the Road: Half-Assed Gourmet is grateful for Chik-Fil-A

I know some people have problems with Chik-Fil-A and its politics and its Christian orientation, but how can you not love its food? Not only that, whatever the corporate ethos is over there, it produces, almost without fail in my experience, well-run, efficient restaurants.

I was on the road last weekend, and, boy, did I appreciate the opportunity to stop at a Chik-Fil-A. See, I believe that this is a franchise that offers consistent quality and a near guarantee for a satisfying fast food experience, unlike a certain other famous franchise which is supposed to offer that consistency (isn't that the point of fast food) but has become more and more spotty in recent years and subject to the individual location. I'd name that other franchise, one which has given me some less than golden experiences lately, but I don't want to get too arch in this post.

The problem is, that other place is everywhere. Chik-Fil-A is not only not everywhere, but it isn't even open Sundays. I remain amazed that in 2011 a major fast food chain leaves as much money on the table as it does by maintaining its "family values" stances and not operating on the seventh day. Good for them. Bad for us if we happen to be traveling on a Sunday.

Here's what this recent visit to a Chik-Fil-A on the road provided that I have not always received when traveling with my family in recent years:

*Decent food, and the actual food that we ordered.
*A clean men's room with a spacious area to change a little one, including a changing table that doesn't threaten to crash to the ground if you open it from the wall and add to it the weight of a baby.
*A clean play area for my older child.
*Friendly and efficient service.

I mean, someone even offered to get us refills while we were sitting at our table, and though we didn't need a second helping of beverage, we took advantage of the offer to get a cup of water we could use to prepare a bottle. Let me tell you, when you are traveling with small children and the various bags and accessories needed to do so, any kind of tableside service that allows you to not get up one time is wonderful.

Needless to say, I walked out of that restaurant happy. The difference between the typical Chik-Fil-A and the typical, well, anything else, is vast enough that I'm tempted to rearrange my future travel schedules to ensure that if we stop for fast food, we have the option to go where we know we're gonna have a stress-free (well, as much as it can be--remember the "traveling with two small children" part) visit.

Yo kind of quiero-ed Taco Bell

A few weeks ago, I had a hankering for something my father had described to me: the new Pacific Shrimp Taco at Taco Bell. I have never been more than an occasional visitor to the Bell; I love tacos, but I don't really consider that incarnation of the food a "real" taco. Fast food is great, but it's not like real tacos are a luxury item, so why waste time and money on an inferior product when I can make a great batch at home? And of course, when I say "I," I mean my wife.

But the combination of the taco and one of my other favorite food items--shrimp--was enough of a lure to get me into a Taco Bell for the first time in several years. I bought whatever combo they featured with the Pacific Shrimp Taco and took it back to the office for a hasty but hopefully satisfying bit of fast food goodness.

Well, I won't say I won't be back to Taco Bell for a few more years just because of this experience, but it certainly didn't impress me enough to make itch to return. On one hand, it's my fault. I got the soft tacos, and I'm just not a soft taco guy. I like my taco shells the way I like my trigonometry exams--hard. So that's one strike.

Then the taco itself, even allowing for the soft-shell handicap, just wasn't all that tasty. I'm not sure how fresh it was; it certainly wasn't piping hot or anything by the time I bit into it. Ehh. It was a taco, I guess, and it had shrimp. But it wasn't exceptional.

And besides, it just didn't feel like all that much of a deal. Isn't that kind of the reason we buy fast food, because it's cheap, or at least feels like a good value? I can't remember the exact amount I paid for two soft tacos and a fountain drink, but I had to supplement my meal with a side of nachos because the soft tacos looked kind of puny. Now, granted, I have been known to strike fear into the hearts of innocent bystanders by swooping into the kitchen and gobbling up mass quantities of tacos without concern for the well-being of other diners, but still, I don't think I'm just being a glutton when I say two Taco Bell tacos don't exactly make a feast fit for un rey.

So I bought the side of cheap tortilla chips with the fake nacho cheese, and it hit the spot for what it was, but why did I have to buy that as a side item? Shouldn't nachos be part of a combo meal there? Every burger joint worth its excessive sodium gives the option of a deal that includes fries or some healthier alternative. I felt kind of ripped off having to shell out 6-7 bucks for what I got--and what I got was SOFT shell!

So to summarize: Unexceptional food--even by fast food standards--and unexceptional value equals me kind of avoiding the place, especially since I've cut back on fast food in general. I am willing to give the concept of fast food tacos a try, but it may have to be the McTaco that revolutionizes the industry, because I'm not too impressed with what Taco Bell is doing.

Half-Assed Gourmet: Viva Los Taco Doritos!

The other day, I'm in the local outpost of The Greatest Supermarket Chain Known to Mankind, Wegmans, when I see a nice-looking family--youngish mom and dad, two small children--holding a bag of Taco Doritos.

Yes, they're back--the junk food that coursed through my veins many an afternoon after school in the late eighties, often accompanied by Nestle Quik in my mug and pro wrestling on ESPN. Taco Doritos are available in a "limited edition" package that spotlights the classic orange and brown colors that made the bag of trans fats so distinctive back in the day.

So the mom takes the bag and says to her son, "Look. This is the same bag I had when I was young." Then she put the bag in the cart with a big smile on her face. I didn't see the kid's expression, but he may well have been thinking, "Uh...yeah, Mom. It's a BAG. Whoop-de-do."

I know that I had a smile on my face. Only in America, I mused, could the populace get nostalgic over a bizarre offshoot of a junky snack chip, and at least partly because of the packaging, to boot.

Yep, I chuckled about that...and then, of course, I blew right past that family to snatch my own bag. After all, I want to see if they taste the way I remember them...and the bag'll look pretty cool in my pantry. Besides, two bucks (on sale from an MSRP of 4 bucks--did I mention Wegmans is great?) is a small fee to pay for memories of decompressing after a rough day of school with some of my favorite guilty pleasures.

Half-Assed Gourmet: Ah, trans fats...

I recently looked through one of those "Eat This, Not That" books (which are excellent, by the way, loaded with info and lively writing) and discovered that my favorite microwave popcorn was loaded in that evil substance known to cause death, disorder, and even discombobulation in all who cross its path: TRANS FAT.

In an effort to live healthier, I followed the book's recommendation and substituted a healthy, "smart" alternative next time I was at the supermarket. This brand was 100% free of the dreaded trans fats, so I could stick that sucker in the microwave, nuke it up, and enjoy a healthy snack.

Well, I ATE a healthy snack. Enjoy? Not so much. It tasted dry and bland, almost like something was missing. In fact, something was missing: those yummy trans fats. I wanted to get me a big ol' bowl of trans fats, melt it up separately, and then pour it on my bag of healthy popcorn.

That may sound disgusting, but it's not like it's a totally bizarro idea. After all, that very process takes place every day at your local gigundaplex, where each blast of the "butter-flavored topping" that goes over your popcorn is surely loaded with enough trans fats to fuel several bags of microwave popcorn.

Oh, I'm not gonna go back to my old favorite, at least not on a regular basis, now that the fun has been spoiled for me. But I'm not gonna eat this sensible stuff, either.

Half-Assed Gourmet: Hard to find good help?

On Mother's Day weekend, my family and I decided to be clever and go out the day before Mother's Day. You know, Saturday is the new Sunday and all that. Unfortunately, it was still Saturday, and the few decent restaurants in the vicinity of Cultureshark Tower fill up early. So at 5:00, my wife's first choice was already at an hour-and-15-minute wait, which would test our patience, let alone our toddler's, so off we went to Bonefish Grill.

(Incidentally, remember how we all used to make fun of our elders for hitting "early bird specials" at restaurants?" Not me anymore. We have to be out the door at 4:00 if we want to get right in to eat somewhere on a weekend.)

Bonefish isn't my wife's favorite restaurant--since she doesn't like seafood, it would have to give her free massages and pay off a credit card or two to get that status--but it is close to her first choice, and when you're all dressed up, that's a pretty big plus. I happen to love the place, partly because of the excellent service it offers.

Or did offer. You see, on this occasion, the place was packed, but we got in with no wait. Only problem was, we had to wait over an hour for our meals, culminating in me taking our daughter outside to run around in the parking lot (not the part people actually park in, but a blocked-off area on the side; I'm not that irresponsible). We had to get the grub "to go" because it took so long, but that's not even what puzzled me that night.

The puzzler was the server who came over to take our orders. I asked him if he could describe the special, a "Mixed Grill" of Longfin Rockefeller and grilled seafood. His eyes widened like Mantan Moreland in a zombie flick, and the poor guy stammered something about it being his first night alone on the floor, so he really couldn't describe the special.

The special, mind you! There was a sign in the lobby advertising this dish. It's not like I was looking for references and educational background of the specific fish. I have great sympathy for harried restaurant employees on a hectic evening, but this guy was either "not up to snuff," as Jack Nicholson described Dermot Mulroney in "About Schmidt," or someone running that place sent him out there unarmed. You got to at least tell your servers some basic info about the special. Don't you?

The other funny thing is, he didn't even offer to get someone who could describe the meal for me. What he did provide was an awkward silence, after which I said, "Uh, could you maybe find someone who could? I'm interested in getting it, but I really want to know what the deal is with it." Hey, I'm not the most articulate restaurant customer perhaps, but I gave him more info than he gave me.

To me, part of the restaurant experience is being able to rely on a learned opinion from the person who's gonna bring you the food. The first time I went to Bonefish, I was blown away by a server who gladly talked me through the different sauces they had, made some recommendations based on stuff I told her, and generally seemed to know what she was doing. Of course, that was on a weekday afternoon. Maybe I'm asking for too much on a busy weekend evening? Maybe we need to start hitting the restaurants at more reasonable hour for dinner...like, say, 11:00 A.M.

Half-Assed Gourmet: McDonald's Angus Burger

It will come as no surprise to eaters of fast food, or to readers of this blog, for that matter, that hamburgers often look much better in the promotional materials than they taste in your mouth. I knew this, but I was still eager to try one of those new 1/3-pound Angus Burgers at McDonald's.

I finally got my chance two weeks ago--wait, what am I saying? I'm making it sound like I don't have a McD's within 5 minutes of just about everywhere I've worked, shopped, and LIVED in the past several months. I finally got around to eating an Angus Burger a few weeks ago.

My intial reaction was that the third-pounder smelled just like a quarter-pounder. My second reaction was that it tasted a lot like a quarter-pounder, too--maybe a tad juicier from being all jacked up on burger 'roids, but still much like the standard non-Angus QP.

However, there was one significant difference: mushrooms and swiss cheese. OK, that's technically TWO significant differences, but these items go together so well, especially on top of a burger, that I often see them as one. Of course, I also see the Pittsburgh Pirates as playoff contenders every year, so my vision is suspect.

The point is, the shrooms and swiss made a great addition to the McDonald's beef blast. The burger was, considering the hype, a bit ordinary otherwise, but I sure did appreciate this new taste combo. "Why didn't the Golden Arches add these to a burger before?" I thought as I settled in to polish off the rest of the Angus Burger.

That was the first bite.

At some point--maybe it was a bite later, maybe it was a few--my lunch was wrecked as I encountered ANOTHER new addition--this one much less welcome. I'm talking about my old nemesis, my least favorite condiment, mayonnaise.

I can't tell you how many burgers I've eaten, or tried to, that were ruined by this evil sauce. Growing up, I lived within walking distance of a Hardee's, and though that chain had OK chow, it lost major points by putting mayo as a default condiment on many of its hamburgers. I can understand offering it as an extra, but why the hell would anyone make it a standard feature of anything except a mayo sandwich?

Not only is it disgusting, it's one of the most fattening, unhealthiest condiments out there as well. In fact, the only thing mayonnaise is good for is providing fodder for jokes about how square white people are--and even that use lost potency about 10 years ago. I thought we all moved past the days when it would be a default topping on an otherwise promising beef patty, but I was oh, so very wrong.

McDonald's, I'm willing to give you a second chance--after all, the fries and sweet tea were fine--but you have to 86 the mayo next time. That's right, I want to "have it my way" so I don't have to ask "Where's the beef?" while scraping off a heaping glob of my condiment nemesis.

Half-Assed Gourmet: Chain Restaurants

OK, a lot of of you out there probably loathe so-called "neighborhood casual" chain restaurants--you know, your Friday's, Ruby Tuesdays, Chili's, and so on. It's quite cool to rag on them, not at all cool to praise them. Well, you won't me see dumping on these places. Sure, they offer a homogenized menu with little to distinguish one from the other. But isn't that kind of the point? A little familiarity isn't always a bad thing, and if the food is good and reasonably priced, I'm happy. I'll let others bemoan the dumbing down of America and that sort of thing.

A few weeks ago, I went to an Applebee's as part of a family experience, and you know what?

It was really good.

I have encountered mediocrity at Applebee's before, and it would never have been near the top of my To-Go list. But I was hesitant not because it was a generic chain eatery, but because it just wasn't all that great. If you don't like this kind of place because you dislike the food, hey, that's your right. If you prefer to make healthier, tastier meals at home, more power to you. But I had a tasty, wayyyyy unhealthy meal at Applebee's, and I loved it. I'd go again. I kind of want to, in fact.

They have this 2 for $20 deal, and with it I got (sharing some of it with the other half of my "2") fried shrimp; fried mozzarella sticks; french fries; and to wash it down, a delicious, refillable glass of fried iced tea.

OK, just kidding about the tea, which was indeed delicious, but not fried. Come to think of it, maybe the reason I had such a great time at The App* was because it had been a while since I had enjoyed such an assemblage of fried crap in one sitting.

Still, it counts. It was a good meal, it was cheap, and the service was outstanding. So here you go, world, here is one person saying something good about Applebee's on The Internet. I don't think it's happened before, I doubt it will happen again, but that's the word I'm spreading today.

(*"The App" is the cool, hip shorthand label I just created for the chain. Feel free to use it, Applebee's marketing wizards, in exchange for a freebie every now and then.)

Half-Assed Gourmet: Arby's Roast Burger

The other day, I was oot and aboot, as our Canadian friends might say (though I wasn't in Canada), and I needed some food, fast. So I went to Arby's for some fast food.

I wish I could say, "Been to one Arby's, you been to 'em all," but in my experience, there's a loooooot of variability in this chain. My last visit was disappointing, but I gave it another shot (at a different location) because 1) when Arby's is good, it's very good, and 2) I wanted to try the new Roast Burger.

I knew nothing about the Roast Burger except that it looked good in the sign on the window. I wanted to make sure there was no funky kind of Special Sauce on the sandwich, so I had this conversation with the woman behind the counter.

ME: "Is there any kind of sauce on that Roast Burger?"
HER: Yes.

At this point, I paused, expecting she would be a little more specific. Well, to be fair, I asked a Yes/No question, and that's the kind of answer I got.

ME: Uh...what KIND of sauce?
HER: Like on a burger. It's seasoning, like a burger.

Then she kind of glanced up at the big Roast Burger poster, like that photo would tell me everything I needed to know.

At THIS point, I felt I knew less than when I started. But she walked over towards the food area, and I thought she was going to get some packet of sauce or seasoning and show me what it was. Turned out, she was only getting a receipt from a previous order. She went back to the register and looked at me expectantly.

Well, Mama Shark didn't raise no coward, so I risked the presence of weirdo special sauce, bizarre seasoning, or worst of all mayonaisse, and ordered a bacon and cheddar Roast Burger.

It was OK, but not great. You know what it tasted like? A roast beef sandwich. It was a roast beef sandwich with a big bun, lettuce, some big tomatoes, and a few big onions. Since I picked the tomatoes and onions off, I might as well have just bought a roast beef sandwich...especially since that's basically what I got.

And by the way, the seasoning on that thing must have been real subtle, because I sure as heck didn't taste it. Nor did I taste any kind of sauce. So the Roast Burger remains a mystery to me, even after I asked about it, ordered it, and ate it.

What's not a mystery is that I should have just gone to McDonald's.