Have it "Your" way

Go back to the very first A Man's Gotta Eat post and you'll see a list of my all-time favorite restaurants in Nashville and parts beyond. One of the restaurants on that list is a little Asian restaurant called Your Choice in Antioch. (Your Choice is so named because patrons can choose between Thai, Laotian, or Chinese dishes.)

Your Choice made its way onto my all-time favorite list for one primary reason: they serve the best hot and sour soup I've ever put in my mouth. I've eaten a lot of hot and sour soup in my day - some was more hot, and some was more sour - but none of it was as fine-tastin' as Your Choice's soup.

With all that said, I'll tell you about my most recent meal at Your Choice, a meal that didn't include hot and sour soup ...

Last week, some co-workers and I went to Your Choice for lunch. I went with the full intention of ordering me some hot and sour soup as an appetizer. Hell, I was even singing the praises of said soup in the car in which a couple of my work buds and drove to the freakin' restaurant. When I got there, however, I decided to go with a soup entree, and the hot and sour soup idea went out the window. (I tried to think of a good food metaphor, but, alas, I failed.)

As many times as I'd eaten at Your Choice - a good two dozen times - I had never had their phở. "What's phở?" you ask? From Wikipedia:

"Phở? (pronounced 'fuh') is a traditional Vietnamese noodle soup dish. ...

"Phở? is served as a bowl of white rice noodles in clear beef broth, with thin cuts of beef."

Your Choice's phở was good eatin', but it wasn't great eatin'. It didn't have a lot of meat in it, for one, and the rice noodles were a bit on the skinny side. The basil-infused broth was hearty and all, but the whole time I was eating my bowl of phở I kept saying, "This needs something." It needed something, indeed.

Next time I go to Your Choice, I will eat me some hot and sour soup (before I eat one of Your Choice's so-very-tasty Lao or Thai rice/noodles and pork/beef/seafood dishes). And the next time I want phở, I'll go to King Market.

So there.

Ron's does this body good, indeed

For dinner tonight, I had meatloaf, green beans, mac-and-cheese and cornbread from Ron's BBQ & Fish.

Ron's is so very good; and I said as much 'bout Ron's in an early A Man's Gotta Eat post:

While it's not as good as my late Granny Ruby's meatloaf, Ron's meatloaf gets real close. It is expertly seasoned and filled with chopped onions. Some restaurants go overboard slathering their meatloaf in tomato sauce or ketchup, but not Ron's. Ron puts just enough tomato sauce atop his meatloaf to serve as a slightly spicy garnishment; and for that he is to be commended.

Alongside my meatloaf I had green beans, macaroni and cheese, and a thick hunk of cornbread. The green beans were seasoned with just enough salty ham; the macaroni was rich and creamy, with bits of oven-singed cheese on top; and the cornbread - which was light, fluffy, and full of cornmeal goodness - was a perfect sop for the spicy meatloaf juices left on my plate.

I waited a long time for a good meat-and-three to come to the southeast corner of Davidson County. Ron's was indeed worth the wait!

"Puh-leez ..." (Re: Whisky)

"For the first time, whiskey produced outside of Scotland has won awards for best in the world by Whisky Magazine," Slashfood.com reports.

"In the single malt competition, Yoichi 20 years old, which is distilled near the city of Sapporo on the northern Japanese island of Hokkaido, beating out a number of other ostly Scottish brands. Judges chose Yoichi 20 for its 'amazing mix of big smoke and sweet blackcurrant,' 'explosive aroma' and 'big, long and sweet finish.'"

Japanese whisky? Puh-leez ...

If you want a whisky with an "explosive aroma" and a "long finish," well, get thee to a liquor store and purchase a bottle of George Dickel.

It tastes of Tennesse corn, and it'll tickle your tongue like no other bottled spirit. So there.

Ain't no ribs like country ribs! (Update)

Ma mere put in a specific request for my "famous" country pork ribs tonight. Last time I made 'em, I didn't take a pic. I did tonight ... and this is it:


That's not a very good picture, I know. But please know this: the meat on that rib literally fell from the bone. Yes, it was that tender. (Just ask my mama.)

You know, I really should be cookin' at a restaurant somewhere ...

Mr. Jimmy's meatloaf sammich

Last night, Mr. Jimmy sent me a picture of the sammich he ate for dinner. Here 'tis:


This's how Mr. Jimmy described his sammich:

"[W]hole grain white bread, Duke's mayo, ketchup, fried yeller onions, dash of hot sauce and a slice of meatloaf from the Belmont BiRite. Onions and meatloaf sizzled together for about 10 mins! I don't mind telling you, I just looked at it for a while before eating it. [D]ang, I'm feelin goood."

Mr. Jimmy keeps telling me that I need to get me some meatloaf from the Belmont Bi-Rite. I wanna do just that, but I think I wanna go to MJ's maison for a meatloaf, mayo, and onions sammich more!

Get the matzo ball rollin'

A few weeks back, I wanted me some grilled boneless chicken breasts for dinner. I bought bone-in chicken breasts at the grocery store ('cause they're cheaper) and I removed the bones myself. I used the bones to make some chicken stock, which I froze.

[Sidebar: Makin' chicken stock is easy. Throw some chicken bones, several carrots, a quartered onion, two or three stalks of celery (with leaves), and several whole cloves of garlic into a pot. Cover the chicken bones and vegetables with water (2-3 quarts) and season with salt and pepper. Bring it to a boil and simmer for an hour. Freeze it whole for a future soup, or divide it into one-cup portions for recipes that call for small doses, if you will, of chicken stock.]

While I was running errands early this afternoon, I had a sudden hankering for matzo ball soup. "I haven't had matzo ball soup in quite some time," I says to myself. "A big bowl of soup would make for a tasty dinner ce soir."

I started thawing my chicken stock as soon as I got in the house. With a little help from the microwave, it was ready for cookin' by 6:00. I put the stock in a pot on the stove and started simmering it on the stove. I put five matzo balls in the soup, seasoned it up with a few pinches of salt and pepper, and I let it simmer for about 25 minutes. This is what I got:


Matzo ball soup ain't much to look at, but it sure is good to eat!

"This here's for Mr. Jimmy"

During a workplace conversation 'bout pork chops today, my good friend (and fellow foodie) Mr. Jimmy publicly doubted the authenticity of some of my "home cooking" pics. Well, this here's for Mr. Jimmy ...

On my way home this afternoon, I stopped at my favorite grocery store and picked up a package of chopped steaks. I seasoned 'em with some Lea & Perrins® and a little black pepper, and then I threw 'em on the grill:


I had me a baked tater and salad with my chopped steaks (I et two of the little suckers), and it was all washed down with a big glass of whole milk. It was gooooood!

Oh, and here's proof for Mr. Jimmy that the grill seen in previous A Man's Gotta Eat postings is MY grill:

I love me some Helper ...

I cooked me some Hamburger Helper for dinner this evening (Bacon Cheeseburger). Why would I do such a thing? Well, check out what I had to say about the stuff some seven months ago:

I have a confession: I love Hamburger Helper. No, I freakin' love Hamburger Helper. If'n I ever decide that I would look quite smashing as a 400 lb. tub, I will go on an all-Hamburger Helper diet -- Cheeseburger Macaroni or Double Cheeseburger Macaroni, of course.

All kidding aside, let me say this:

Whenever I want something fast and simple for dinner, I'll whip up a box of Helper, open a can of peas, and drench the whole shebang in Trappey's Louisiana Hot Sauce. Heaven in a single skillet, indeed!

Read the rest here.

How to make a chicken sammich

Look up "bargain shopper" in the dictionary and you're likely to see a picture of my beloved mother. She can find more deals on more stuff than any person on this planet ... and that ain't an exaggeration.

A few weeks back, ma mere gave me a big-ass bag of Pilgrim's Pride boneless, skinless chicken breasts (don't ask me where she got 'em). Even though the bag was big and heavy, the chicken breasts themselves were thin and spindly. "Maybe for sammiches" I said to myself as I was shovin' the bag of PP chicken into my freezer.

I didn't have no plans for dinner when I left for work this morning. I had even fewer plans for dinner when I arrived home this evening. 'Bout 20 minutes after I arrived home ce soir, I lit my (natural) gas grill. I then started thawing some PP chicken breasts in my microwave. When they were "done," I coated 'em with a little kosher salt and a lot of black pepper.

I cooked my very-thin chicken breasts for about 6 minutes at 350 degrees. They came off the grill and were placed on a bun. I added slices of tomato and and a big gob of Duke's mayo, and this was what I came up with:


Not bad, huh?!

THE best BBQ, indeed

I don't think I've ever read a single passage from an issue of Details magazine. I just might subscribe to the sombitch due to the fact that its May issue proclaims Memphis' Cozy Corner to be one of the best BBQ joints in the U.S. of A. Check it out:

Memphis gets slagged for being an overrated barbecue town that’s more sauce than substance. Cozy Corner is the decisive riposte, a pint-size shop run by Desiree Robinson—widow of the founding pitmaster Raymond—that specializes in amazingly tasty Cornish game hens and slaw-topped barbecued-bologna sandwiches. Then of course there are the spice-rubbed, sauce-slicked ribs, which Robinson manages to give an irresistibly succulent bite.

The last time I ate at Cozy Corner, I did so with my co-workin'/road-travelin' bud Frank. When we left the place, we were stuffed to the gills with pulled pork, rib tips, and Cornish hen. Frank'd never been to Cozy Corner prior to our visit, but he emerged from the place as a confirmed Number One Fan. Pretty good testimony, if'n you ask me.

Oh, here's what you need to know about Cozy Corner if you're goin' to Memphis:

Cozy Corner
745 North Parkway
Memphis, Tennessee
901-527-9158
www.CozyCornerBBQ.com

And I found it two freakin' miles from my house!

We'll get a slawburger, fries and a bottle of Ski
Bring it on out to my baby and me

-- "Dumas Walker," The Kentucky Headhunters

When I was a young'un, my dad worked at the Tennessee Farmer's Co-op in Lavergne, TN. There was a little market next to his office that always had a big "barrel" of Double Cola - in glass bottles, of course - chilling on ice. Whenever I went to his office, he'd always take me into the market for a Double Cola and some chips or something.

I remember one day I peered over into the iced-down Double Colas and spied something in a green bottle, something called Ski. It kinda looked like Sun-Drop, which my grandparents always had on hand, so I decided to give it a try. It was sweet and tangy, but I quickly noticed that it wasn't quite as carbonated as the soda pops I was accustomed to drinking. Thus, I didn't particularly care for it.

A few years later when I was playing Little League baseball, one of my teammate's parents would bring a big cooler of cold drinks for after-practice refreshment. What did they always bring in their big cooler? Bottles of Ski and Sprite. I couldn't stand Sprite so I would drink the Ski. The more I drank it the more it grew on me. It didn't take long before I was asking my mom to pick it up at the grocery store (and since I was an only child, she usually obliged).

By the time I graduated from high school, Ski was getting harder and harder to find in Nashville-area markets and grocery stores. In the years that followed, I would find it from time to time in little markets when I was traveling 'round Tennessee - especially West Tennessee - on business. Eventually, I couldn't find it anywhere.

Imagine my surprise when I found Ski in a convenience store over the weekend ... about two miles from my house. I was toting beverages of a more adult nature toward the cashier when, out of the corner of my eye, I seen something that looked subspecialty like little bottles of Ski. I turned on my heel and returned to the soda pop cooler. Sure 'nough I had seen Ski! I probably had a smile on my face like I'd found a $100 bill.

I walked out of that store with four bottles of Ski and six bottles of ... well, that's not important. What is important is that the Ski I drank sitting in that convenience store parking lot tasted every bit as good as the ice-cold bottles I drank after baseball practice when I was 9-years-old.

Learn more about Ski here.

Hot Dog! (Update)

Raymond Sokolov is back. After receiving dozens of irate e-mails from hot dog-crazy Detroiters following his "best hot dog joints in the USA" article in the Wall Street Journal, Mr. Sokolov returned to his native city to visit several famous hot dog restaurants there. (I, for one, did not know that Detroit had any famous hot dog restaurants.) A sample:

"That pretty much describes the canonical Coney, as served in hundreds of little places in the Detroit Metropolitan area and other parts stretching into Ohio and upstate New York. It all began when a Greek shepherd named Gust Keros, who had sampled a hot dog on New York's Coney Island on his way to settle in Detroit, opened the American Coney Island restaurant on Lafayette in 1912, substituting Coney Island sauerkraut with a chili 'sauce.' Subsequently, his brother opened a copycat establishment next door, called Lafayette. They are there today as 24/7 stalwarts in a downtown still barely emerging from its worst days.

"Which is better? American has the superior dog, a spicy number from Dearborn Sausage, but the wedge-shaped dining area lacks the lunch-counter coziness of Lafayette, whose perfectly fine frank comes from a factory in nearby Eastpointe called Winter. I am aware that there are aficionados who will eat an after-hours Coney only in their favorite of these side-by-side rivals and will be easily provoked into reviling the other."

I've never been to Detroit, and I don't know if I'll ever have cause to go there. If'n I do ever find myself in that particular ville, I will not leave until I've visited the American Coney Island restaurant.

Happy Passover

'Bout three years ago, I took part in a Seder dinner at the home of a Jewish friend. I was much awed by the solemnity of the ritual, but the meal itself didn't impress me much. (I did, however, go home with a box of matzo crackers that was bigger than a car battery!)

According to the guys at Slashfood.com, Seder food don't have to be all bitter and bland and boring:

"I know I don't have much knowledge of Jewish rituals, but I've heard a lot of grumbling about how Passover or Seder dinner food could be more satisfying. That may not be the case if your ancestors are Sephardic Jews, those who came from Mediterranean countries. The food is full of spice and aroma, or so says the author of a new cookbook on the subject."

I just hope that next time I participate in a Passover dinner, I'm in the home of Sephardic or Mediterranean Jews, indeed!

Don't make me kick your ass

I just saw a Red Lobster commercial that ended with this script in small print at the bottom of the screen: "Prices higher in Times Square."

I wanna tell you something: Any New York City-livin' or visitin' feller who even thinks about spending his hard-earned money in a Red Lobster restaurant deserves a good ass-kicking. Twice over.

I will never forget the time I was in New Orleans - 'bout seven years ago - and witnessed a line of people waiting to get into a T.G.I. Friday's® in the French Quarter. I so very wanted to walk up and down the line of people shouting, "You people are waiting to get into a fern bar in the f***ing French Quarter! What in the f*** is wrong with you?!" (If'n I'd been as drunk as I got later during that trip, I might've done just that!)

I'll close by saying this ...

If you're a guy and you tell me that you ate a meal in a chain restaurant in New York City, I'm gonna kick your ass. I'll make an exception if you can prove that you were forced to eat there (like if your meal was provided during a business meeting). But if I find out that you paid for a meal in a chain restaurant in NYC, you're gonna get an ass-kicking. Twice.

Me likey hot fish!

'Bout six months ago, I told you about my favorite "hot fish" sandwich joint. This is a portion of what I said:

Nashville, TN, is famous for many things: Country music, churches on every other corner, education (Vandy, Belmont, TSU, David Lipscomb, etc.), and numerous printing and publishing companies.

More importantly, however, Nashville is famous 'cause restaurateurs within its city limits created "hot chicken," which will be the subject of a future A Man's Gotta Eat post, and "hot fish" sandwiches, which'll be discussed, well, here:

What's a hot fish sandwich, you ask? It's cornmeal-breaded whiting fillets on white bread, with mustard, slices of white onion, pickles, and hot sauce. Sounds like an odd combo, I know, but a hot fish sandwich is just what the doctor ordered when a feller's hungry, indeed.

My favorite hot fish joint is Ed's Fish House in Priest Lake. Ed's does business out of a trailer in the Compton's Foodland parking lot (Smith Springs Road, 'bout a mile and a half south of Bell Road). Ed has been selling fried fish out of his little trailer for over 25 years. That says a lot about the quality of his food. ...

Ed's fish sandwiches are truly two-hand sandwiches. That is, you'll be using both hands from bite one until all you have left are crumbs. (I guess you could cut the sandwich half, or into quarters, but that's not really a manly thing to do.) The cornmeal Ed uses gives the fish a terrific crunch, and he tops the fish with just enough "stuff" on top to enhance, rather than overpower, the crispy fish underneath.

If you've never had a hot fish sandwich, you can't go wrong by heading to Ed's Fish House for your first.

Well, I ain't the only the one likes Ed's hot fish sandwiches. Earlier today, "Lorie" sent me a comment in which she seconds my opinion that Ed's Fish House serves up a damn fine

Peek - guy, oh - at this ...

I love tomatoes. I love onions. I love garlic. And I really love fresh cilantro. Chop 'em and put 'em in a bowl and this is what you get:


I put me some chicken breasts on the grill tonight; and when they were done, I topped 'em with what you see in the pic above.

Bet you wish your legs had been under my dinner table tonight ... right?!

God Save Freezer Queen® Macaroni And Cheese!

It's no secret that I love macaroni and cheese. Indeed, if I'm in a meat-and-three or cafeteria-style restaurant that features mac-and-cheese as a choice on its menu, nine times out of ten I'm gettin' just that. (Oh, and I've heard just about every joke ever told 'bout how people in the South consider mac-and-cheese to be a vegetable. I ain't interested in hearing no more!)

Regular visitors to this Web site have been treated to my own personal recipe for macaroni and cheese ... more than once, if memory serves. As much as I enjoy cooking and serving my macaroni and cheese, however, sometimes I'm just too pooped to put it together.

So, what do I do when I crave quality mac-and-cheese and don't want to do no serious cookin'? Why, I put a dish of Freezer Queen's frozen mac-and-cheese in my oven and just be all pleased when it comes out some 50 minutes later.


I'm well aware that Freezer Queen's mac-and-cheese is loaded with sodium and has very little real cheese in it. I don't care. It's salty and "cheesy" and crispy, and, boy, do I like it. If I choose to eat it once or twice each month, well, what the **** is wrong with that? Ab-so-lutely nothing, that's what.

For dinner this evening, I put a small, extra-lean pork loin on the grill (took about 20 minutes to cook). My one and only "side" ...? Freezer Queen Macaroni And Cheese. Check it out:

Happy Grilled Cheese Day

According to Slashfood.com, today is Grilled Cheese Day. Well, hell ... **** ... Happy Grilled Cheese Day!

Who knew?!

Just a few days ago, the Tennessean ran a story on grilled cheese sandwiches -- without once mentioning Grilled Cheese Day. The Tennessean published grilled cheese recipes featuring apples and Grey Poupon mustard and, well, a whole bunch of crap that don't need to be on a grilled cheese sandwich.

To make a proper grilled cheese sandwich, you don't need much ... and you don't need to do much o' nothing. Indeed:

Joltin' Django's Grilled Cheese Sandwich

Ingredients

Two slices of gluten-filled white bread
Two slices Kraft Velveeta sandwich cheese; or, four slices Kraft whole-milk sandwich cheese
One-eighth cup (real) butter, melted

Directions

Heat non-stick skillet to medium-high
Place cheese between bread
Evenly coat "outside" bread with melted butter
Place sandwich in skillet, cook 3 minutes
Flip sandwich, grill 3 additional minutes (or until cheese starts dripping)

Serve and enjoy!

(And don't you even think about puttin' no apples on that sammich, neither!)

Croak-ette this!

My next door neighbor, Eddie, works long - and I mean long - hours.

Storm clouds were brewing all day today, so the first thing I did upon arriving home this evening was mow my yard.

Eddie's yard was lookin' all long and green, too, so I clipped it since I had my lawnmower out.

'Bout 30 minutes after mowing Eddie's yard, he brought me and mine a very large plate of salmon croquettes and fried potatoes:


Oh, what a meal it was -- especially since I consumed about a half-cup of Tabasco whilst eating said meal. (Copious quantities of Tabasco - sprinkled or sipped - do any and all prepared foodstuffs a great deal of good, indeed.)

That said ... I'm gonna get Eddie's recipe for salmon croquettes, like'n the salmon croquettes he give me tonight, and I'll be postin' it soon.

Stay tuned.

Them eggs'll kill you, man

Since I only eat about 7 or 8 eggs a year, I guess I don't have to worry 'bout this:

"Middle-aged men who ate seven or more eggs a week had a higher risk of earlier death, U.S. researchers reported on Wednesday.

"Men with diabetes who ate any eggs at all raised their risk of death during a 20-year period studied, according to the study published in the American Journal of Clinical Nutrition.

"The study adds to an ever-growing body of evidence, much of it contradictory, about how safe eggs are to eat. It did not examine what about the eggs might affect the risk of death.

"Men without diabetes could eat up to six eggs a week with no extra risk of death, Dr. Luc Djousse and Dr. J. Michael Gaziano of Brigham and Women's Hospital and Harvard Medical School found.

"'Whereas egg consumption of up to six eggs a week was not associated with the risk of all-cause mortality, consumption of (seven or more) eggs a week was associated with a 23 percent greater risk of death,' they wrote."

'Tis not a hot dog

Since I was draggin' my ass when I came home from work 'bout 5:30 today, I decided to quick-thaw -- in the microwave (gasp!) -- a package of Johnsonville Pre-Cooked Smoked Brats I had in my freezer. I then grilled 'em and put 'em on a bun ...


Pre-cooked Johnsonville brats are okay, but they are a bit dry for my taste. Not that they were bad, but the whole time I was eating 'em I kept saying, "These things need somethin'!" (And when I say "need something," I mean something more than the mustard, chopped onions, and peppers that I put on top o' my brats ce soir.)

When I have a hankerin' for a grilled brat, I want it to be spittin' juice when it comes off the grill. Believe me, pre-cooked Johnsonville brats don't spit nothing when they come off the grill ... indeed.

Ain't no ribs like country ribs!

The menu at Chez Django last night included country style pork ribs, mashed taters, and green beans. I'd already finished eating when I realized that I'd failed to snap a picture of my before-and-after ribs. Well, dammit.

Here's a picture of uncooked ribs I found on the 'Net:


And here's how I cooked my ribs last night:

Joltin' Django's Pork Ribs

Ingredients

6-7 country style pork ribs
2 cups quality BBQ sauce (I prefer Stubb's for this recipe)
1 cup Trappey's jalapeño peppers (optional)

Directions

Preheat oven to 300 degrees
Line rectangular baking dish with foil
Place ribs in dish with plenty of room between each rib
Spread BBQ evenly over ribs and top with peppers
Tightly cover baking dish with foil
Bake 1 1/2-2 hours [Note: When ribs have cooked for 1 hour, remove them from oven and baste. Rotate baking dish and return to oven]

Pretty clever, if you ask me

I found a press release today which claims that Nestlé USA is changing the name of the Butterfinger candy bar to The Finger, effective immediately. Of course, the date on the very official-looking press relese is April 1. Check it out here.

A sample:

"Nestlé USA announced today that after 80 years, it is retiring the name BUTTERFINGER and officially changing the name of the popular candy bar to 'THE FINGER.' This change is effective immediately.

"The renaming of the BUTTERFINGER candy bar reflects the results of a two-year comprehensive study conducted by the company into consumer perceptions of the "BUTTERFINGER" name. According to the study, an overwhelming majority of consumers identified the phrase with undesirable traits, such as being clumsy, awkward and lacking in physical coordination, skill or grace.

"The name 'THE FINGER' gives the candy bar a shorter, more contemporary name while acknowledging the long heritage of the brand. Finger bars are expected to begin appearing on store shelves throughout the month of April 2008."

Hot dogs don't need no garlic-water 'round here

According to Tyler Florence, you should boil hot dogs in a pot with a clove of garlic before grillin' ... "to taste."

I got news for Chef Florence: Nathan's Kosher Beef Franks


don't need to be soaked in no garlic water to be good.

All a quality Nathan's hot dog needs to be to be considered first-class is to be quick-boiled (in clear water)/grilled, placed on a quality bun, and topped with oninons and mustard.

Hot dogs boiled in garlic water ...

Gimme a break!

Bein' British means ever having to eat the same thing

I'm clever enough - and I'm a good enough cook - to make this statement:

Never shall I go an entire year in which I eat the same six meals ... over and over again.

That said, is there any wonder why I feel so sorry for folks who live in the U.K.:

"Most British families live off just six recipes - prepared week in, week out.

"A traditional roast chicken is the favourite - served up frequently in 30 per cent of homes.

"The next popular meals are spaghetti bolognese (27 per cent) and stir fry (12 per cent). Then came sausage and mash at 12 per cent, followed by curries (10 per cent) and pork chops (7 per cent)."

I like roast chicken, and I like spaghetti. I like stir-fryed meat and vegetables, and I like sausages and mashed potatoes. I like meat and veggies full o' curry, and I like pork chops. I like these things, indeed; however, I can't imagine that I'd enjoy eating 'em all week-in and week-out ...

'Cept for maybe pork chops!

Viewer Blue / Tell me what I can eat, too!

I always thought that the key to staying thin was eating in moderation and exercising. Leave it to the Japanese to tell me there's a tech-driven shortcut:

"Looking for a way to crave those middle-of-the-afternoon cravings? Or maybe you want to find a way to eat less when you sit down for meal? All you have to do is don a pair of these deep blue tinted sunglasses and suddenly the food before you will shift from appetizing to disgusting.

"Well, that's the thinking behind these Japanese-designed specs. Apparently, the color blue acts to calm the brain's appetite center, making you feel less hungry for the duration of the time that you're seeing blue."

Read the rest here.

Hail, Britannia!

This I like:

"An Internet campaign to ban Britain's treasury chief from the nation's pubs has struck a chord with the country's harried drinkers.

"Earlier this month, treasury chief Alistair Darling raised taxes on cars and cigarettes, but it is his new alcohol duties — which raised the price of a pint of beer — that have gotten Britons' backs up.

"So when a pub landlord in Darling's home town of Edinburgh barred the chancellor from his establishment, drinking holes across the country followed suit, posting pictures of the white-haired, bespectacled treasurer above the big red word 'barred.'"

You know, if restaurants and bars across the U.S. posted pictures of tobacco/trans-fat/fois gras-banning lawmakers, and then banned the sombitches from their premises, a good deal of property rights-eroding foolishness might never make its way into the legislative hopper. Indeed.