Monthly Archives: March 2014
So there I was, finally living my dream of being a professional game show contestant. I was one question away from winning a million dollars and being able to retire from the Federal Bureau of Foreign Culinary Relations forever. I was tempted to walk away with my winnings and at least pay off the money I owe to Wong Lo Kat, but then I saw the million-dollar category: “Strange Snacks”. Of all the things in the world, this was surely what I knew best, so I chose to risk it all and try the final question.
After a commercial break that included an advertisement for the 9th Annual Rambutan Roundup, the host asked me, “What does Portugal taste like?”
I was stunned by this bizarre question, so I repeated it: “What does Portugal taste like?!”
The host calmly reiterated, “What does Portugal taste like?”
I mumbled under my breath while I tried to figure out the answer to this quirky query: “Portugal…Portugal…What does Portugal taste like? What does any country taste like? Have I ever tasted any countries besides Croatia? It can’t taste like Croatia, since they don’t have Kraš Express in Portugal…”
“Ten seconds”, the host prodded.
“Uh,” I stammered. “Er…Um…Bacalhau?”
There was a suspenseful pause, and then the buzzer sounded. “I’m sorry,” apologized the host. “That’s not the answer we were looking for. The correct answer was Ego Black Sesame Pie.”
After I recovered from the disappointment of returning to my menial job as a semi-professional snacker, I tried to understand how Portugal could possibly taste like Ego Black Sesame Pie. A long time later, I’d almost forgotten about the incident when I came across a box of Ego Black Sesame Pies in the local market. Sure enough, the package clearly indicated that these snacks were “Portugal Flavor”. I wistfully purchased the pies and gave them a try.
As it turns out, Portugal tastes like dry, crumbly filo pastry with frosting and sesame seeds on top. I wonder if they would have accepted that for an answer. Probably not.
You know the old saying: “Fool me once, shame on…shame on you. Fool me…you can’t get fooled again.” These are wise words to live by, except for when you’re trying various foreign foods. In that case, it’s important not to let previous bad experiences dissuade you from sampling new products. Just because every other canned soup with a folding spoon on top has been revolting, that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t keep trying more and more canned soups with folding spoons on top.
At least that’s what we tried to tell ourselves, over and over again, while pondering this can of Chiao Kuo Green Beans Soup. As you can see in the picture, it isn’t “green bean soup” in the traditional sense. It’s more of a bean soup that happens to be green in color. What could be more appetizing than that?
After several months of arguing over who was finally going to be the first to try this green soup of beans, it looked like we were going to have to call in an outside arbiter to force this chartreuse concoction on one hapless taste tester. Fortunately, all that procrastination gave the soup a chance to expire, and our contracts allow us to refuse to eat any product that is past its expiration date. Thus the world may never know the truth about Chiao Kuo Green Beans Soup, and we will live to eat another day.
As we progress toward the ultimate goal of having a 100% bacon life, we’re always on the lookout for new bacon products to bring us closer to complete bacon bliss. We managed to find bacon candy and even bacon bandages, but we still had to drink non-bacon beverages. That is, until now. Thanks to the intrepid inventors at Lester’s Fixins, we can now quench our thirst with delicious bacon soda.
Well, maybe it’s not delicious per se. It tastes more like bubbly artificial bacon bits. But that really doesn’t matter, since it’s bacon. Now if only we could find a way to have eating utensils made out of bacon, we might finally achieve absolute pork paradise.
We’ve got a problem here, people. We bought a pack of these delicious ETi Cin Orange Jelly Biscuits, but we didn’t follow the instructions. Sure, they tasted great with their crispy cookie, sweet orange jelly, and chocolate flavored sprinkles. I mean, does it get any better than chocolate sprinkles on a cookie? But in our sugar-induced stupor, we neglected to observe a very important admonition on the package. At the very end of the ingredient list was a small warning: “Keep out of direct sunlight.”
I don’t really understand how someone is supposed to have a twelve-hour snack binge…I mean a carefully planned taste test…without eventually ending up sprawled out in the middle of a field at high noon. In any case, the happy smiling orange jelly biscuits ended up being exposed to direct sunlight. Yes, I know they tried to warn us, but they didn’t warn us that they would turn into giant rampaging quail eggs with red eyes and giant teeth. Of all the horrifying possibilities, this was the worst. It took us several days just to overcome the smell. Once we could finally get back into the headquarters, it took quite a while to fend off these odoriferous ova. We’re still fumigating some of the lesser-used parts of the FBFCR offices, such as room where we keep George the dressage parakeet. It’s a good thing parakeets don’t eat much, since we forget about him from time to time.
So while these ETi Cin Orange Jelly Biscuits are a delicious explosion of citrusy chocolatey contentment, please make sure to follow all of the warnings on the label. You really don’t want a load of angry quail eggs on your hands.
We recently received the following angry missive from a representative of the Secret Society of Artificial Potatoes:
I represent the Secret Society of Artificial Potatoes, and I want to inform you of a terrible injustice that is being perpetrated against simulated spuds. We are a small group and our suffering often goes unheeded, so I hope that you will be able to assist with our dilemma. We’ve recently been rendered redundant by Jack ‘n Jill Vcut Potato Chips, which are made with 100% real potatoes. With all of those real potatoes being used to make potato chips, what are we artificial potatoes supposed to do? I suppose we might try to get ourselves included in one of those canned soups with folding plastic spoons, but we really want to retain some shred of dignity.
To add insult to injury, our pictures are still being used on the packaging for these potato chips, even though we aren’t actually inside the bag. We only agreed to these humiliating photographs because we thought it would help us get a role in Spicy Barbecue Flavor Vcut Potato Chips. I mean, look at our feet. They’re red chili peppers. Did you think those were our shoes? Well, they’re not. Those are our feet. That’s the life of an artificial potato. You never knew it was so horrible, did you? And to make it even worse, they made us run across hot coals that were put on top of a giant artificial potato chip. That hurts even when you have red chili peppers for feet!
In closing, I truly hope that the Federal Bureau of Foreign Culinary Relations will be able to assist with our tater tribulations. I’m sure you’re very busy with other cases, but we have chili peppers for feet. Isn’t that reason enough to move us to the top of your list?
T. Thomas Tuber
I’m very sorry to hear of your problems. Unfortunately, our budget has been cut to the point that we are considering selling our own feet on Craigslist and having them replaced with stale cheese logs. Maybe if you bought a t-shirt or something we could afford to help you. Until then, we are going to have to deal with our own problems.
Do you know that feeling when you go to bite into a chocolate-chip cookie, only to realize that it’s actually an oatmeal raisin cookie? Imagine that, but with a tomato cookie instead of an oatmeal raisin cookie. Did you know there were such things as tomato cookies? Neither did I until I found this box of Home Bake Tomato Cookies. These aren’t any ordinary tomato cookies, either. They were developed with the assistance of Taiwan Chung Shan Medical University, and they claim to involve “the art of healthy cookies”.
They seem to be healthy enough, since they contain 0% added sugar, not to mention tomatoes. I mean, who would want to eat a cookie filled with chocolate chips and creme filling when they could have a miniature foil-wrapped tomato cookie instead? It’s just like giving up an ice cream sundae for a delicious dessert of celery and beets. Who wouldn’t want to make that trade?
The cookie on the package is depicted as saying “0% stress”. And of course that’s completely true. Why would anyone be stressed by sacrificing their normal cookies for these vaguely tomato-flavored monstrosit…I mean masterpieces? In fact, I think these cookies and their hint of sun-dried tomato taste are the cure for our overstressed world. As the foil wrapper on each cookie says, “even without caramel, it tastes just as sweet.” And it is a bit sweet, once you get past the hint of tomatoes.
Best of all, these cookies are “vegetarain”, as clearly shown on the box. Vegeterain! It’s raining vegetables! Well, it’s raining other things too, but…we won’t go there. Hallelujah! It’s raining vegetables! Thank you Home Bake!