Monday, September 27, 2010

Off Probation, Shadow Pup Testifies Before Congress on the Egg/Salmonella Scare

It was a dog and monkey show.

[Ed. Note: After much gnashing of teeth and soul-searching (including bowing to the whinning of Shadow Pup in the comments section of the "Don't Make Us Kill This Dog Post") we decided not to put the Pup down for his recent rant on Katrina victims. Instead, we held a "Tammy Trial" and decided he/she was guilty as charged but should be sentenced to "time served." It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that the Shadow Pup was called to testify before Congress the same day as Stephen Colbert and is now a semi-celebrity.]

Shadow Pup's Statement Before Congress:

"Good morning. My name is Shadow Pup: blogger, pound puppy, comedian and resident of Alabama. I would like to thank the committee and its members for their time today and their open minds as I present my statement for the record.

I am intensely interested in the public health issues surrounding lunch. I have several months of experience in blogging about lunching in one of the toughest markets in America: The Gump. Due to my access to the internet, some people actually take me seriously. In August of 2010, in the midst of the salmonella firestorm (and while I was on blogging probation) I was welcomed by Colonel Sanders of the United Chicken Farmers of America as a guest at one of Alabama's thousands of chicken houses to discuss the impact on egg production of the Center for Disease Control's recall of 380 million eggs.

Because I love eggs and despise the inhumane treatment of laying chickens and the workers who tend them (as well as the smell of a production egg-house in the summer) in my interview with Sanders and in subsequent conversations with un-named sources, I learned of the 2,000 reports of salmonella poisoning linked to in-shell eggs originating from Iowa. Although most of the victims were fruits and nuts from California, as a comedian, food critic and satirist, the temptation of subjecting my character to manual labor in an egg house proved impossible to resist. I offered to feed, water and tend the birds.

Joined by Congresswoman Zoe Lofgren -- longtime advocate for chicken and farm workers' rights -- I traveled to northern Alabama, where I spent 2 hours collecting eggs, shoveling chicken sh*t and learning about the stark reality facing American egg farms and farm workers. I learned that many chickens are unhappy, egg farms are closing, chickens are laying fewer eggs or switching to being broilers. I learned some of the eggs can contain salmonella and can be dangerous if you do not cook them before you put them in a milkshake.

At the request of Congresswoman Lofgren, I am here today to share my experience as an blogger turned migrant worker and to shed light on what it means to truly take one of the millions of jobs filled by immigrant labor. They say that you truly know a chicken after you've spent a day in his cage, and while I have nowhere near the hardships of these struggling and noble yard birds, I have been granted a sliver of insight.

We have sent men to the moon and, with the technology developed from that endeavor, added wheels to luggage. Surely, with our vast riches we can figure out how to inspect each in-shell egg for the salmonella pathogen before one more person vomms. Failing that, as provided in the Commerce Clause of the U.S. Constitution, it is clear that it is the role of the federal government to protect us from our failure to fully cook our food by banning the sale of raw eggs to the public or by restaurants that do not hire documented U.S. citizens. I for one want my eggs laid by an American chicken in an American egg-house fully inspected by agents of the Department of Agriculture and several more by the Food and Drug Administration and then cooked by an American at the International House of Pancakes.
Some say this may cause the price of eggs to sextuple. I say, even if more regulation costs billions of dollars and a few hundred-thousand jobs, if it keeps one person from eating raw eggs and getting violently ill--or even dying--it will be worth it.

Thank you very much for the opportunity to share my testimony."


Shadow Pup making a point at Comedy Central/Congress

Friday, September 24, 2010

Taste Confusion at La Zona Rosa

A Confounded Chile Poblano Eyes His Plate Mates

My squeeze and I are fans of La Zona Rosa as are many of the posters on this blog. On a typical Thursday night you will see the Z-Red restaurant chocked full to the gills with locals chowing down on the reasonably priced "South of the Border" fare. The service is good, the atmosphere friendly and the al fresco dining area a pleasant spot to dine in decent weather. In other words we like La Zona Rosa as our two former posts attest.

But....(and you knew this was coming didn't you?)....the truth is some of the various menu items do taste the same.  For example, in the above picture there are three items.  One is obviously a curious, furious or ravenous Chile Poblano.  However, can you possibly identify the two items the Poblano is gazing at?  Well, according to the menu, one is a burrito and one is an enchilada.  And not only do they look alike, I closed my eyes and could not tell one bit of difference in taste between the two.  What is more disconcerting is the fact that when I finally subdued and gutted the Poblano, it was stuffed with stuff that tasted just like the stuff inside the enchilito or the burlada (cross between a burrito and enchilada).  Just what that stuff is I have no clue.  Where the stuffing comes from I have no clue.

Now, is it all fairly tasty? Si senor. Do I have any problem with the meal itself? No senor. Was the meal only $7.50? Si, si senor. I'm just sayin': If there is no difference in taste between a burrito and enchilada why do they have such different names? I'm just askin'. I mean, is this stuff shipped in from some meat filling factory in Mexico or Guatemala where all the "Mexican" restaurants get the same stuff? Is that why a lot of "Mexican" food in the Gump tastes the same? Is there like some Mexican McDonalds that standardizes the meat you get so you are never disappointed nor delighted with your meal? Just askin'.  No disrespect intended.  I'm not going Shadow Pup on anyone here. It's just that inquiring and hung-over minds want to know.

Comments welcome.

La Zona Rosa on Urbanspoon

Friday, September 17, 2010

New Taco Beer Buffet at AlleyBAR

The food bar and last thing I remember.

Got the e-mail above yesterday about 4 p.m.

Just made it back to the trailer on the lushtrolly ...or was it a friend who drove me? Well, nevermind. Managed to get my computer to come on and just had to write about this new happy hour deal at Alley B......urrrrrp (excuse me)......BAR. They have tallboy PB...urrrrpppp...(sorry) Rs for a buck! Served by a tall boy by the way, but a buck! A b....urrrrppppp! (Sorry man) A freakin' buck!

(Where is my wallet?)

And...yes...they have food. Free food. No incredihorrible stuff but wraps and things like that. Cheese. You know, things girls like to eat when they are on a diet. I like cheese.

Sooo....(where is my cellphone?)...I think you should go... there. Ride the drunk trolly from Old Gumperdale, mingle. Go after work, if you have a job, and (excuse me).....

(What happened to that twenty I put in my pocket?)

I'm not feeling soo good. I feel fantastishitty. Anyone got any aspirinnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn

[Ed. Note: The blog trailed off at this point and we can only guess that it represents the Carp's head on the keyboard. We edited-out the thousands of lines of "n" that followed.]

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Crisis in the Gump

Grounds for Divorce....


Football Frenzy Foils Friendly Feasting


Another Monday and again no gump, a lonely Monday indeed. Within the LITG crowd we all take our college football seriously, and so it seems to the detriment of the collective. Yesterday evening after reading Chase’s latest review it saddened me to realize that we have become a divisive group choosing to dine alone. Cause? Surely there must be a cause. During the night, a long troubled night, I turned, I tossed. I was tossin and turnin all night.

And then it hit me. Like a giant Meatball Parm it hit me. The beginning of the Collegiate Football Season in the South has created a new term in the LITG vernacular, “Lone Gumping”: the intentional act of dining and reviewing alone. It came to me that there has not been a LITG meeting called nor collective review/discussion of any LITG dining establishment since the first kick of the season.

What are we afraid of? Is it the fear that a discussion of who the greatest two sport athlete in history may begin during the meal and a cornbread fight ensue? Or maybe the true meaning of the number 13 would arise and result in overturned tables. Even perhaps the comparison of mascots (for those teams that have one) could end up in fisticuffs. Basil Chicken Linguini on walls, friends and colleagues at each others throats. Police arrive, rights read; “He started it!” and down that slippery slope to trial we go. Chaos.

Oh, I’ve seen it. A cry from the mob: “Two Heisman’s are better than one!” Then the retort: “Defending Champs!” Followed by 1957! 1992!, then “The Kick!” “Punt Bama Punt!” It could go on forever. But can we let this fear thrust the civilized LITG membership (& Tojo) into the dining experience alone and disband the group? I say no.

Back in New York some time ago, we had such a situation break out. We went to the mattresses; Gets rid of the bad blood; Been 10 years since the last one. We need a meeting of the families to settle the differences.

Maybe this meeting needs to take place where it all began. Where common ground can be found and weapons are checked at the door to enjoy the company & cuisine together.

Can’t we all just get along?

Monday, September 13, 2010

Man vs. Meatball Parm

Meatball Parm Sandwich at Sa-Zas




One of the grossest or, depending on your point of view, most wonderful shows on the Travel Channel is "Man vs. Food" where some overweight guy with curly black hair named Adam Richmond searches out and destroys the largest, fattest dishes served up by Hamburger King-like places all over America.  Tonight it was a "Double Judd" in Boise, Idaho.  A "Double Judd" is two one-pound cheeseburgers on buns the size of Frisbees. On other episodes you meet the "Ultimate Destroyer," "Burgersarus" and the "Big Ugly Burger."  All of which this Adam guy tries to devour in record time and usually does.

They look like this:

Big Ugly Burger: 2 lbs of meat

"Ultimate Destroyer": Seven kinds of meat on one sandwich


Two yahoos try to eat the "Burgersaurus"




Well today, at Sa-Za's during lunch, I felt like I was shooting an episode of "Man vs. Food." It went down like this:

I was in a hurry and wanted to walk. My options--in my pea brain--were a quick $5 sausage from "The Hot Dog Guy" street vendor or the other restaurants on Commerce/Tallapoosa.  Walking down Commerce I saw Joe DiMaggio sitting outside at Sa-Zas conspiring with what looked like partners or potential investors so I looked inside and saw that there were open seats at the chef's table.  Usually the place is too crowed for a quickie, but today I was in luck so I popped in and sat at the counter and chose the "Mama's Meatball Parm Sandwich" (or something close to that name.)


The service was quick but when the sandwich arrived I knew something was afoot. Surely they did not expect a human to be able to eat this as a sandwich?  Why, I couldn't pick up 1/2 of the thing with both hands and certainly never could have gotten even a corner of it into my mouth. It was huge.  Why, to give you the proper perspective, I submit the following photo with a live Chile Poblano from La Zona Rosa on the side:

The Meatballs dwarf a surprised adult Chile Poblano (shown actual size)

 I had to give up on the idea of treating this thing like a sandwich and began the humiliating process of simply folding away the top slab of bread and cutting the meatballs covered with sauce and cheese with a fork and knife.  Here's the good part, although I ate like a little girl, the meatballs--sans bread--were outstanding.  However, I had to admit that even by avoiding all the bread and the crisps, I was not able to finish the four meatballs on the sandwich. It was just too much.  Man-0/Food-1.

What was perhaps even more amazing was the price: $9.  Which by my count would be less than .50 per ounce of delicious meatballs. Terrific flavor and a reasonable price, but at a tremendous cost to the male ego for having to ponder asking for a "go box."

Incidentally, as I slinked away in shame with my little go box full of leftovers, I noticed DiMaggio in a vacant space on the inside of The Alley Station talking with the same group of partners/investors.  Could there be another restaurant in The Alley afoot?  One hopes so.


Sa Za on Urbanspoon

Thursday, September 2, 2010

Shadow Pup... Free to Good Home, or Put to Sleep?

bamabing@lunchinthegump.com
Email me to save this dog.
Well, I took a much-needed vacation and it looks like somebody forgot to give Shadow Pup his distemper shot while I was gone. Apparently our once-lovable four-footed foodie, whose well-tuned sniffer saved us from many a dining disaster, suddenly went off-message and became a snarling, bile-spewing right-wing elitist social commentator of the junkyard dog variety.

In his August 31 blog post (see below, if you dare), our little canine connoisseur went to finger-pointing about the tragic events surrounding Hurricane Katrina. Shadow Pup pointing fingers? He doesn't even have thumbs.

We decided on an intervention. First thing we did was rub his nose in his Katrina post and say "bad dog" in our sternest voices, which only prompted the Pup to roll over on his back and say, "Will one of you idiots quit screwing around and rub my belly?" So then I wore his ass out with Tuesday's Montgomery Advertiser, but since that's been cut down to eight pages (not counting foreclosure notices), that didn't have much effect, either. The Pup just chuckled, called me a liberal pansy and bit me. Then he told Tojo to "go back to Japan" and called Fat Clemenza a "cannoli-eating goombah." 

So we've decided to give him away. If nobody will take him, well, then we'll just have to euthanize the little fellow. Clemenza says he'll do the honors.

Maybe some fledgling hate group out there needs a watchdog, or a mascot. Maybe Glenn Beck can get Shadow Pup to help him sniff out the president's birth certificate. Or maybe Satan needs a new fire-breathing, slobbering guardian at the gates of hell.

Please, don't make us kill this dog. Somebody take him off our hands so we can get back to cracking wise about food.