Oops. Caught in the act.

Jimmy John’s advertises that their delivery is Freaky Fast.  See their blog at www.freakyfast.com.  But does their desire to be freaky fast give their 20-something young man without a handicapped placard some freaky authorization to park in a handicapped parking place?  The driver did dutifully leave his flashers on.

We’ve had our say about valet parkers before.  How about delivery?  Does anything go?

This is just wrong.

]]> http://sidedish.dmagazine.com/2012/02/21/this-pookies-donut-is-borderline-offensive/feed/ 6 http://sidedish.dmagazine.com/2012/01/30/pouting-over-poutine/ http://sidedish.dmagazine.com/2012/01/30/pouting-over-poutine/#comments Mon, 30 Jan 2012 19:20:38 +0000 Daniel Walker http://sidedish.dmagazine.com/?p=35333

Poutine from the Greenhouse Tavern, Cleveland OH (photo from Columbus Underground @ www.columbusunderground.com)

A couple of weeks ago I gushed about my love for the burgers at Kenny’s Burger Joint.  One of our Sidedishers, “Kirk,” commented that they offered “the closest facsimile of poutine in the DFW area.”  When I heard this, it was not long until I found my way back to sample the Kenny’s version.  As you likely know, “poutine” is a classic Canadian dish, traditionally composed of crispy French fries, cheese curds, and a brown gravy.  The most successful variations of poutine are able to serve the fries thick and crisp, the cheese curd soft but not so completely melted that they lose all their texture, and the gravy incorporated into each bite, but not so much as to turn the whole thing into a soup or make the fries overly soggy.  However, this dish is incredibly hard to find in Dallas.  I don’t understand why this is so.  Perhaps it’s our distance from our neighbors to the North? Perhaps there are not enough Canadians here in the Lone Star State?  It really is a travesty.

Kenny's version of "poutine"

Kenny’s version was tasty but had some flaws compared to the more traditional Canadian versions. It was very heavy on the gravy, which left the otherwise exceptional fries a bit too soggy.  The melted Jarlsberg cheese was rather scant and lacked the textural chew that comes from a good cheese curd.  One of the more memorable American variations can be found at the Greenhouse Tavern in Cleveland, OH which serves duck fat fries, mozzarella curd and veal gravy.  However, there seems to be nothing like this in the Dallas area.

What gives, Dallas restauranteurs?  This is a dish I think Dallas would truly embrace.  Even a poutine food truck could work.  Anyone know where this delectable dish may be found in Big D?

Chicken pot pie at Lady & Sons in 2008. One serving could feed a family of four.

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.

Good wines gone bad.

Forgive me Master Sommeliers and wine collectors around the world, I have sinned. I am here to confess my deepest darkest wine secret: I improperly stored four bottles of fabulous wine. For nearly 35 years.

Look at the photos and weep with (for?) me. I recently uncovered these bottles in a box buried beneath a pile of old Christmas decorations in my garage. Yes, my garage, where it sat for close to 35 summers, winters, springs, and falls. I am a human species of Phylloxera.

I could have pulled another Billionaire’s Vinegar and called Sotheby’s and claimed the wine was given to me by Richard Nixon and I’ve kept it hidden in a bricked-up Paris cellar. Instead I’m posting pictures of my crime. Perhaps there are others who have committed the same dirty deed.

Full confession below.

Yes, $19.79 before my employee discount.

Self portrait.

I used to collect wine, especially French wine. Specifically those of Bordeaux. I worked at a wine bar in Dallas called La Cave and spent my off time learning about French wine. My former boss, François Chandou, still runs La Cave Warehouse.  He is my witness. I bought hundreds of bottles of French Bordeaux. I wore a laminated vintage chart around my neck and scoured wine shops and wine lists looking for the best.

Eventually, I drank it all. Well, except for these four bottles. Is there anything I can do? Do I even attempt to drink them? (Does anyone want to buy them?)

I would like to take this moment to apologize to Bacchus, Dionysos, the early colonists of Southern Gaul, the concept of terroir, Baron Philippe de Rothschild (and subsequent Barons), James Tidwell, and Drew Hendricks. My deepest regrets to the chateaus: Latour, Mouton-Rothchild, Margaux (oh, sweet Margaux), Haut-Brion, Petrus, Pomerol, St. Emilion, and d’Yquem. Sorrows to you dear Cabernet Savignon, Merlot, and Cab Franc grapes. You gave your lives only to sit in a bottle in a box underneath a pile of old Christmas decorations in my garage. I am unworthy of your grace.

There is about a half inch of sediment in the neck of this bottle.

Sorry lion-guarded fortresses of France.

This wine was my first true love. We sold it for $4 a glass at La Cave. At one point I owned two cases.

Heinous. Painful. Wrong.

McRib? Wie viel würze passt in einen burger!

Huh? Hasn’t this icky boneless mystery meat sandwich already had more comebacks than Donny and Marie? According to this, they’re rolling out the old queen on November 14. One interesting note in the story is that Germany is the only place where it’s always been available. WTF? Germany? McRib? Do you people eat this stuff? Food snobs speak up!

UPPITY DATE: This link from a adult beverage wholesaler.