It was bound to happen: pizza lover and baseball writer, Evan Grant, finally met pizza maker and baseball lover, Jay Jerrier. The twosome came up with a publicity stunt. (SHOCKER) They invented “Name a Pizza for Mike Napoli” contest. (If you don’t know who Napoli is, you can go back to work.) If you love the catcher-first-baseman-DH lovingly referred to as “Dirtbag,” you will love this: Today, Grant and Jerrier announced four finalists plus Grant’s unofficial “look-how-funny-I-am”entry, “The (he wishes) Grand Salami.” Hear him brag:
After much consideration, pizza-maker extraordinaire Jay Jerrier and pizza-eater extraordinaire Evan Grant (that’s me), have come up with four finalists for our Name a Napoli Pizza contest.Tuesday (Feb. 7 or tomorrow to most of you), we will roll out some samples of these fine entries for you to taste and, as always, the full Cane Rosso menu will be available. One of these fine recipes will end up as a special pie on the Cane Rosso menu for the next month and one of these neophyte pizza creators will walk away with a nice little prize package. Maybe we can come up with some other surprises, too. So, if you are free come on down. We’d love your input here and at the restaurant. Here are the finalists. Be there at 7PM.
I posted a piece over on FrontBurner earlier today about the contribution of Frito Pie, and its forbears, to the history of Western civilization.
So, of course, a reader decided to share with me the above photo of her brother’s Frito Pie Pizza. She writes:
I know it’s a Boboli crust and then I assume Frito pie ingredients. I haven’t had it but he says it’s amazing.
My brothers and sisters, we are truly living in an age of decadence.
In August 2008, I traveled to Savannah, Georgia where I dined at Paula Deen’s restaurant Lady & Sons. We ran a post titled “Paula Deen Wants to Kill You.” I wrote:
I can still smell the rancid butter that hit us in the face when we walked in the door. I’ve got to find the pictures I took of the food I ate–everything was dripping in butter. I remember the chicken pot pie was big enough for four and almost everything was fried. OK, she admits she’s “not your cardiologist,” but she really is contributing to the delinquency of dieters. The night we went, at least 75 per cent of the diners were beyond overweight–they were obese. It was sad–like people watching at the slots in Vegas–everyone was gambling with their lives.
Last week Paula Deen confirmed the rumor: she has Type 2 diabetes. I wonder how many of her dedicated fans also suffer from Type 2? This really chaps my sass because two members of my family didn’t have a choice: they both were diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes when they were young. They have to continually monitor their diet and control their blood sugar. However, Ms. Deen, and other people who put on blinders and continue to fill their body with fat and sugar, had an option. Like not eating a burger made with Krispy Kreme donuts. It’s now rumored that Deen may become the spokesperson for Novartis, a company with a drug designed to treat diabetes. If she personally profits from developing Type 2 diabetes (Hey yáll, I’m your endocrinologist!), I’m going to go berserk. I can already see the talk show circuit lighting up. It makes me sick.
I have two songs permanently embedded in my head. They’ve been there for years (centuries?). They have a life of their own and flow from the deep recesses of my right cerebrum and out of my mouth without a prompt. One is “I Want to Marry a Lighthouse Keeper.” The other is “Java Jive” as performed by Manhattan Transfer. We all know “Brown Sugar” has nothing to do with food, but, WITHOUT GOOGLE, what songs about food do you sing? Waiter, waiter, percolator…
Several years ago I met a man for lunch at Stephan Pyles. It was the first time we’d met. We sat down and ordered. When the food arrived, he grabbed my hand and asked me to join him in prayer over our lunch. I bowed my head but kept my eyes open. Diners all around us were watching us as the very nice man prayed. And prayed. And prayed.
I admit I was extremely uncomfortable. Not because he was religious and blessed his every meal and minute on earth, but, and I don’t know how to put this gently, because I felt he was imposing his beliefs on me. Now don’t go all crazy on me, I am being honest. Looking back at it, I realize it wasn’t that big of a deal. However, I would like to hear what you think about this situation. Should he have asked me if I would have liked to join in prayer or was it “fair” that he grabbed my hand and assumed it was okay?
According to several attendees of Sunday’s XX Caesar Salad Competition, the charity event ended with a quite a bang. SideDish reporter Andrew Chalk was leaving the Westin Galleria tonight when he heard emcee Scott Murray yelling from the Senate floor stage. “At first I thought it was the live auction and somebody had just made a big buy,” Chalk said. “Then I realized he was shouting abuse at some guy in the audience.”
I contacted AIWF rep Freda Ballas. “We did have some people complain about him [Murray] using the f-word,” Ballas said. Both Ballas and Chalk tell the same tale. Murray was onstage pulling names from the raffle bowl and announcing winners. You buy a ticket and a number is called. Simple. Tonight, a nice little girl put her hand in the bowl and pulled out a ticket and handed it to Murray. Instead of announcing a number, Murray read out a name.
Some dude near the stage yelled something to the effect of “This is rigged,” and Murray went nuts. From various reports Murray say words to the effect of: “If somebody thinks I have control over the tickets I pulled, you can meet me outside right now and I’ll give you a check for $500.” Meanwhile, Del Frisco’s chef, David Holben, was busy packing up his knives. He won the competition.
Somewhere, both Julius Caesar and Caesar Cardini are smiling. Holben’s victorious salad was an extra-garlic-and-anchovy version of Cardini’s original. Murray battled like a gladiator.
The Office Grill’s Michael Costa, Texas Bear and Bull, LLC, filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy on September 26, 2011, six days before he was to appear at hearing to determine if he’d breached his lease agreement. The next day, the Texas Comptroller revoked The Office Grill’s sales tax permit for lack of payment. Legally, The Office Grill can’t operate as a restaurant, yet, as of ten minutes ago, they were open for business.
On September 30, the landlord, 18020 N. Dallas Parkway, LTD filed a motion to convert the Chapter 11 filing to a Chapter 7. Chapter 11 means creditors are held off until reorganization or refinancing is obtained. Chapter 7 means there is no hope for reorganization and assets are to be distributed to creditors. A meeting of the creditors is scheduled for November 7.
The chef left right after Costa was arrested by the TABC on September 20 and Costa’s liquor license is suspended. He’s operating without a sales tax license, liquor license, and a chef? I’ll say this, the guy doesn’t go down easy.
Here is a pdf of the motion filed by 1820N. Dallas Parkway, LTD
Dear Chef DAT,
Who are you? I’ve been getting press releases from you for a long time but for the life of me I can’t remember meeting you. I do understand that you live underground and you cook a lot there as well, but do you ever actually come out during the day?
You talk funny. I mean, you write funny. You “sound” like you are totally hip and in with all of the IN people which explains a lot about our relationship. It’s so cool that you are throwing a birthday party for yourself on October 23! You must have lots of friends! Three LIVE bands, CAJUN food, and BYOB! Totally bitchin’. And Thursday, you only have 20 seats left for your super secret dinner in Deep Ellum. Have you done the math? Do you think you can get that many people under the ground in Deep Ellum? It must be so freakin’ dark, dude. Six courses for $66? That dinner is like so effin’ New Testament! And payable in “unmarked, untraceable cash only”? Brilliant.
Keep it up and maybe you’ll get your own restaurant one day. Oh, wait. My spirit is shaking. I’m getting an incoming subliminal message from, wait…oh…I can’t quite make out the voice, I can only hear pigs squealing. Oh, now it’s clear. It’s Steven Doyle LIVE from the State Fair. He says you have a “concept portfolio” for a future restaurant called Twenty-Seven. Far out, it sounds so Satanic! Will you take American Express? Awesome. Keep us posted.
Good luck,
Nancy Nichols
I got a semi-frantic email from a semi-frantic restaurant owner. “Savor Dallas is moving to the Irving Convention Center this year. We got our invite to participate and apparently they are moving to broaden their appeal.” I went deep into Savor Dallas’ Facebook page and found this:
Savor Dallas announces the 8th Annual event will be held March 30-31, 2012, and expands regionally. Participants can enjoy wine, food, spirits and the arts in the Dallas Arts District, and the new Irving Convention Center at Las Colinas, 500 W. Las Colinas Blvd.
Hey, Jim White! What is up? Are you changing the name to Savor Dallas and Irving? Have you ever heard of a basketball tournament called “The Final Four?” Dude, give us the news.
UPPITY DATE: Savor Dalling Irvas Dallas organizer, Jim White, responds below. He is on top of the whole situation. All good. Jump for it.
In the most out-of-left-field news of the morning, it seems that Top Chef contender, former Shinsei execu-chef, and current execu-chef at Brownstone, Casey Thomspon (Brownstone), has actually joined forces with Sam’s Club to (as the press release says) “provide restaurant-quality, simply delicious mealtime solutions.”
I could rewrite the release for you here, but it reads best in its original format:
jump to read the release… (more…)
This Little Piggy Went Downtown
Oh yeah, it's for real.
We’re suckers for any press release that contains the following sentences:
It seems a couple well-intentioned entrepreneurs have teamed up with J&D’s Foods to create a little something they’re calling baconlube—the world’s first bacon-flavored, water-based, American-made, personal lubricant.
Billing itself as the “gold standard of meat-flavored massage oils” (natch) baconlube, they say, is like the McRib of sex: it’s delicious, makes men crazy, is here for a limited time, and is in short supply.
If you’re thinking “stocking stuffer!” (let’s stay on track here), we’re right behind you. But the boys only made 3,000 bottles of this pork-flavored nectar. It hit the interwebs yesterday at www.baconlube.com. How much, you ask, for a product that promises such a satisfying holiday season? Only $11.99.
you know you want more. jump for it… (more…)