Al Michaels is truly a man after my own heart. Although I have never met him, I have seen him on hundreds of sports broadcasts. Until recently, I only thought of him as a great broadcaster, but new information has recently come to light. A friend has just alerted me to a story about this man who has now become a legend to me. In a recent interview at “The Big Lead,” the following transpired:
Once every million years or so I venture outside of my Taco Bell comfort zone and find a Mexican restaurant that I just can’t get enough of. That is the case with La Paz, a great, greasy little restaurant tucked away on Center Street in sunny El Segundo.
After trying (and enjoying) many different items from their menu, I have finally fallen into a dish that I can never get enough of, the Super Deluxe (Wet) Burrito. The menu says it comes with ground beef, rice, beans, lettuce, guacamole and cheese, but La Paz Restaurant (just like La Paz, Bolivia and their constitution) is happy to make substitutions.
Being stuck in London’s Heathrow airport, I was sure I wouldn’t be able to find anything to eat beyond a bag of “crisps” and a bottle of Irn-Bru…gag. I was actually surprised when I found myself with a decent selection of restaurants. After carefully checking out each menu and price (since the British pound is worth about 1.5 dollars) , I settled on The Crown Rivers. They served up mostly pub food, but also had a good-looking selection of curries. I settled on the Thai Green Chicken Curry, since I always wanted to know what green chicken tasted like…just kidding…maybe.
The ingredients listed in the curry were lemon grass, coriander, lime leaf, cumin, coconut and choi sum. None of these sounded like vegetables to me except for the choi sum. I figured I would take a risk and allow it, hoping it could be some incredible new meat I had never heard of.
In reading this article today, I knew something had to be done quickly to defend the good name of Taco Bell.
If you haven’t noticed yet, I am uncomfortably (and unhealthily) in love with the Cheesy Gordita Crunch, without lettuce. It represents all that is good in this world and I often find it difficult to push myself to eat anything else.
Recently, a friend alerted me to the newest Taco Bell creation, the Bacon Cheddar Gordita Crunch. The name alone is enough to make the weak queezy, but I simply could not believe that my world could be graced with genius! If bacon can improve donuts, why not the gordita?
Cafe Brasil is one of those restaurants that has always been elusive to me. I have driven or walked past it in Palms countless times, but never gotten up the courage to step inside.
I finally took the plunge and stepped into the Cafe. At first I was confused by the place. There are three different seating areas. One is inside, one is semi-outside, and one is for real outside. I found a table in the semi-outside, but then realized I had to order at a counter. Ordering at a counter always puts a lot of pressure on the consumer, especially if they don’t know what they are going to order. Under this deep pressure, I went with every unvegan’s default choice, steak.
When I began writing about my life as an unvegan, I made a solemn promise to myself that I would dedicate my blog simply to the reviewing of restaurants as they relate to my taste in foods. Any rants, complaints or praises I had about people or things in general would somehow make their way into my review and never grow into their own entries.
Today, I break that promise.
Today, the world has changed.
Today, a friend has brought to my attention a campaign by PETA to rebrand the word “fish” as “sea kittens.”
For my final day of Turkish Food Week, I’d like to wrap up with a few more interesting dishes I encountered on my journey. We’ll return to my regular unvegan lifestyle next week!
Cigarette bread is a mysterious food that was first served to me at the Ban Ban Cave Restaurant in Cappadocia. Considering how many cigarettes Turkish people smoke everyday, I wouldn’t have been surprised if someone told me cigarette bread was just a new way they found to ingest tobacco. For all I knew, it could have been bread wrapped around an actual cigarette. I bit in with immense curiosity and found it to just a thin shell of bread, wrapped around ricotta cheese and fried. This is probably only slightly healthier than actual cigarettes. It quickly became one of my favorite dishes in Turkey.
In the frozen wasteland of Cappadocia, the man running my cave hotel recommended a restaurant close by, called Orient. It was a short trek, but froth with difficulties like ice and snow. After a few slips and close brushes with icy death, I made it inside.
I checked out the menu, remembering that the guy at my cave had recommended the steak. After a short glance, I found the “Minute Steak.” The name wasn’t terribly specific and I wondered what it could possibly mean. Did it take a minute to cook? A minute to eat? Maybe it was minute in the sense of being small? Perhaps it was Turkey’s version of Minute Maid? My curiosity got the best of me and I ordered.
Before I left for Turkey, a friend of mine told me I had to go to a restaurant called Doy Doy in Istanbul. Since he hadn’t been to Turkey in a couple years, I took him seriously. It’s not often that someone remembers the name of a restaurant they went to in a foreign country while traveling the world, even one with a name so memorable as Doy Doy.
I was told that I could find Doy Doy behind the Blue Mosque, which isn’t exactly a small building. In fact, it’s hard just to tell what the front of the mosque is, let alone the back. I encircled the building before I found a cobblestone street that I hoped would lead me to Doy Doy. I rounded a corner, and there in bright yellow stood a building with a sign reading Doy Doy. I finally made it, but would it live up to the expectations?
Where I come from, we have a very limited view of what we call “kebabs.” For starters, we spell them k-e-b-a-b-s and assume that is the only way they can be spelled. Believing that the Turks just couldn’t spell the word, I laughed my way through all of the restaurants in Turkey that said k-e-b-a-p-s. Eventually, I realized that it was just another spelling of kebabs. I guess the restaurants got the last laugh.
Spelling, though, is not the only difference in perception of kebabs that I have with Turkey. I have also always been under the impression that kebaps are pretty much just foods grilled on sticks. Again, Turkey proved me wrong…twice!
The first strange kebap I had was the “Pottery Kebap.” This was in the Uranus Cave Restaurant in Cappadocia, which was a stop on my guided tour. Before delving into this mysterious kebap, I’d like to go off on an unvegan tangent. Anyone who says it’s difficult to travel as a vegetarian is a bold-faced liar. In all my traveling, on all the tours I’ve been on, the guide always makes sure to ask if anyone is a vegetarian. This was no different in Turkey. Before arriving at the cave, my guide asked about vegetarians, but made no effort to accommodate unvegans. As such, I was stuck praying that the meal I was about to get would be fit for an unvegan such as myself.