Thursday, January 13, 2011

Food Fantasies

Hi guys,

Forgive the name of the blog; it's been a long day!  I'm not a huge crouton fan, really. I am, however, frightfully fond of alliteration...

Ok, so this first assignment is a creative one; even in research writing, the ability to write creatively allows you to describe, contextualize, formulate tone, etc., with ease and grace.  To the end of engaging you guys in some creative practice, I'm asking to you to reply to this message with a food fantasy, food dream, food fear, or food nightmare (choose one only).

Since I'm interested in your creativity, I want you to feel free to respond either literally or visually; you can either write a paragraph on one of the four options above, or you can draw/paint/photograph or otherwise create an image that responds to the option you select.  Keep in mind that this assignment should take you about 50 minutes, to stand in for our Friday class time.  You can truly do whatever you want here, just be sincere.

I'm posting some of my food collages for inspiration, and you should DEFINITELY have a look at "Double Cream" by A.K. Elder, on pages 60-61 of Gastronomica; it's a super-short food fantasy piece about cheese.

One last little thing--be critical in your definition of food.  Do you consider wine to be food?  Why or why not?  How about natural drugs, or tobacco?   You can certainly do your assignment on your favorite cocktail, cigar, etc.

Good luck, and e-mail me with questions!  Since this took me much longer than I anticipated, please just make sure to post your response by 4 PM tomorrow.



  1. "Ooh, I want Acai bowl!", she said to me with a big smile as we left the noodle house in Honolulu. It was already late and Lanikai Juice closes early on Thursday nights, but whatever she wants. There were tourists all around adding to the buzz of motorists - some on mopeds - shirtless and sandals. The evening air brushed lightly against our skin and I can hear the rush sound of waves crashing nearby - all of which added to my nervousness and thudding in my heart. Anything to share our presence a little while longer.

    It was still open. Rumor around the island is that this is the best place to indulge our taste buds for Acai dessert. We walked up to the entrance plastered with colorful band and club advertisements. we made it just in time to put our order in and enjoy the last few sets from a live ukulele player. Underneath the decorative and out of season Christmas lights, we found some cozy, brown leather seats - the kind with no back support. That meant that we had to lean towards each other to enjoy our desserts, so I didn't mind.

    Our order came. A large wooden bowl filled with organic strawberries, honey, blueberries and banana that adorned earthy, sweet granola which was just a prelude to the main event - the dark blue Brazilian Acai blended with frozen yogurt. It tasted like a cool tropical paradise. I watched her eyelids slowly close and her head tilt slightly as she inserted the spoonful of island delight. I will forever remember that night.

    She was happy so I was happy, and she made my Acai bowl overflow that whole summer.

  2. Chocolate Sucking Vampire
    Beneath the health conscious athlete that I am, is an alter ego that craves chocolate. I feel as though I can’t consume enough if it. A piece of chocolate becomes two pieces than three pieces than four. It like am a chocolate sucking vampire, whose identity changes at the aroma of this craving poison. Rather I am faced with milk, dark, or white, I devour it and will devour it over and over again. With each bite my taste buds ask for more, my mouth starts to water and my hearts pounds anticipating the next delicious bites to come. Although, my craving feels never ending, and I have to tie myself down to stop eating the addicting treat, I am scared that one day in the next 89 years of my life I will over consume and my craving will be overly satisfied. It sounds ridiculous, even to me it sounds a little obsessive but I admit I’m obsessed. I am obsessed with the feeling of chocolate, so much so that it takes me twice as long to eat a candy bar because I am savoring the taste. I take my precious time just in case one day my passion for chocolate is gone I will at least have a memory. I may be addicted to chocolate, but I am not sure if I want to admit it because I don’t want to be cured (and the first step to recovery is to admit you have a problem.) I’ll gladly accept the title as the chocolate sucking vampire. I’ll gladly take notice to chocolate being my kryptonite. I’ll even admit my obsession to chocolate and my fear that I’ll over consume. Yet, I won’t admit I’m addicted because I never want to be cured.

    Olivia Smith 1.14.11

  3. It was only a shitty little Mexican restaurant. We didn't even know what town we were in, or what time it was, only that it was dark, we'd been driving for hours--the four of us taking turns at the wheel--and we were starving. I had been kidnapped that morning, yanked out of my bed, thrown over a man's shoulder and buckled into the backseat of a car. My friends and I had been talking about taking a spontaneous road trip for a while, but apparently they had decided it wasn't spontaneous enough if it was planned. When I finally rubbed my eyes enough to see Geoff, Spencer and Georgia grinning at me, we were already speeding towards the on-ramp. If I had to point out a perfect day so far, that was it. They were all still here, I was in love with my best friend, and we were free. When we ran out of songs to sing and pictures to take and other cars to heckle, we stopped for lunch. Bypassing McDonalds, KFC and Taco Bell, we found a tiny supermarket. After much debate, we found a solution to appease our varied palates: nutella sandwiches. The car became a little assembly line, white bread, nutella, cut in half, pass around. Then we reached the coast, and all thoughts of food were quickly forgotten as we ran, cheesy music video style, to the water.
    We must have spent hours in that disgusting mexican restaurant. People watching, gossiping, and eventually those psuedo-philosophical conversations brought on by a combination of adrenaline crashes and the early hours of the morning. The day itself was perfect, but it really started and ended with food. Now, the only place I ever really want to be is back in that divey restaurant. I'd eat that food forever if I could repeat that day once.

  4. hmm... not sure if this id going to show up.

  5. I have a commute that I hate. At 5:45 in the morning I force myself to jump out of bed so the horrible alarm on my phone will leave me alone. By the time I am done getting dressed I am already wondering if I will have enough time to make some toast with peanut butter on it, eat a quick bowl of cereal, or just skip it so I can make the ferry from boring Bainbridge Island to busy Seattle. Those mornings that I have to skip breakfast are so torturous. My stomach at first is all I can think about because the emptiness is so prominent. Then, if I wait too long to either start on my lunch or buy something to maintain me, my stomach begins grumbling here and there asking why I am so cruel. I am so cheap that I try to starve myself, but I find it usually too difficult while I wait for my first class to start at nine. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches are my staple. The glorious creaminess and the sweet sugar are so satisfying when freshly prepared. However, my sandwiches are crammed into a container that is too compact thus my pb&j has some guts spilling out either onto me or already spread on the container walls. Also, my weakness for fruit lies with bananas. There have been a couple of times when a banana exploded in my backpack. No fun comes of mushy ferry and bus passes. It seems like most of my day is anticipating a whole meal that does not come until late at night. I do not get to enjoy my food between classes and what I do eat never seems to be what I crave. This is my food nightmare come to life.

  6. "nightmare" by Penelope

    I can tell from the gray mist around me that it is late, or it's daybreak. I can see nothing, but I feel like everything is staring at me with queer sound. wherever I turn to, there are mists gathering there; always, always, faster than me. I am unable to see what is surrounding me, neither what is under my feet. Fogs under my feet are forming the shape of stairs going down as I am walking along. My heart is pounding faster and faster, but suddenly, I cannot feel it anymore. I start to run, very fast, trying to get away from everything here. Something weird happens, I stumbled on the stairs which are formed by the fogs, my feet twist and I sprain my ankle. It is unusual because it's unbearably painful. I hear someone is laughing at me, yes, someone, at least it sounds like a girl. I can hear something, going closer and closer to me. Sounds like...some kind of poisonous insects. Oh! A scorpion! I can hear it squeaking, and the weird sound like its tail flapping the ground. I am frightened by what I see. Yes, I can see the scorpion is breaking through all the mists and crawling closer and closer. When I am able to see the evil smile the scorpion puts on its face, I want to scream out loud for help. However, I cannot get the words come out, they are stuck in my throat. When the scorpion gets close enough to me that I can clearly see it openning its huge bloody mouth, I fall. The mists and fogs disappear, I am able to see everything clearly. I wish I cannot. If this is a dream, this must be the most dreadful one I have ever had! The scorpion is still here. I cannot make myself move a step, I just wait, wait and see if it eats me. Suddenly, An old man who wears shabby tatters reaches out a rough black hand from somewhere and catches the scorpin at its neck. He breaks the scorpion at its neck with a click, separate the two parts; throwing the body of the dead scorpion into his mouth and masticating with appetite and relish. I am so disgusted by the smell of blood and the creak sound when he masticates it that I feel like I am going to puke soon. Without the danger in front of my face, I finally have time to look around to see what the hell is happening here. There are women, men, not a single child, wearing rags; they look old, very old, old enough to be my great grandparents. They are sitting by the sides of streets, looking at no directions. It is hollow when I look into their eyes. They barely move, all they do is that reaching for an insect including spiders, scorpions and kill them, putting the bodies into their mouths. The only expression they have on their faces is when they masticating the "food", they look very content and happy. This is absolutely terrifuing and creepy. The next thing I know is I wake up on my bed with my alarm clock shouting. Everything is just a nightmare.

  7. Now chitlinsis the nastiest food i have ever tasted. The real life person nightmare that I encountered when I was about six years old. Just the smell of chitlins makes my stomach roll and roll. I even through up inside of myself at times.When i walked into my grandmas house this nasty booty like smell pierced my nose, it was just god awful. Everytime we had a family gathering I would be scared to death if my grandma made chitlins or not. The first time i tryed chitlins it was an accident and my mom tricked me. I was starving and hungry and I went to my mom and she seen how hungry I was so she said "here I made you a plate". I was so happy and I thought It was chicken, when I emerged the chitlins with my mouth. After, this had happened I made a nasty face and my mom just stood there and looked at me laughing. I looke up at her and said WHAT IS THIS ! WHY DID YOU DO THAT MOM! She said "boy chitlins are good just add more hot sauce". I said NO! This was the most craziest real life food nightmare i have ever experinced. After my grandma told me it was pig intestens I never looked at or smelled chitlins again. I now know chitlins as PIG BOOTY. I HATE THEM!

  8. My nightmare. Our reality.


  10. Food Fear
    Kelly Wang

    China is a relatively traditional and conservative country, but in the Southern part of China, people are crazy about eating various kinds of animals. Things like mice, snakes, palm civets, and even some of the precious species are all popular there. I am not coming from the Southern part. However, even the normal foods considered by my families still have tremendous fears on me, which my mom always said that I lost many chances to taste the delicious. One of the best examples was about a type of insect, called cicada. At the end of summer of each year, lots of retailers started to sell cicadas in their little stores. They cleaned them down over and over again to make sure they are safe for people to eat. Then those retailers usually put a pile of them into the boiled oil, until they became rolled up, which represented they are cooked. A little salt would be spilled over it. Every person after eating it would tell me how crispy and palatable it was, and how they were overwhelming and intoxicated with that. I had to admit those cooked cicadas smelt so good, but it looked disgusting for me. The highly-polished-like black shell shining with the gold color, and those tight stripes on its belly, just can’t make me look at them for the second time, not even for eating them! The most horrible thing was the sound when my families were eating it. It was crispy and crunchy. Go to the hell! I just wouldn’t accept they were eating insects! Until now, I never eat one single cicada in my life. I want to try, even a little piece of it, but I can’t! I just can’t!

  11. A Food Nightmare

    As my small plane violently shudders and jolts through the dense tropical storm clouds, I glance at my blinking console and realize I’ve been blown off course – way off course. My navigation system is shot, and now I’m low on fuel. Before long my little aircraft and I are tumbling from the sky and into the sea. I miraculously survive the crash, relatively unscathed, and after a day and a half drifting on a piece of floating debris, I wash up on a tiny, deserted island. I’m thirsty and starving. I quickly discover a small freshwater spring, and once I’ve sufficiently re-hydrated, I set out in search of food. I soon realize that there’s nothing else on this island but a small grove of coconut trees. I hate coconuts. I mean really, really hate them. But it’s the only thing to eat. I hold out for another day, hoping that some sort of search-and-rescue operation is under way, and I will soon be found. After another day, I finally give in to my hunger. I have to eat. I pick a fallen coconut from the ground, crack it open on a nearby rock, and choke down its contents with a grimace. But I realize, through my hunger, that it’s not so bad. I mean, I don’t like what I’m eating, but I feel fortunate to have found any food at all. It could be worse, I figure. What if the island only had raspberries, or pecans, or mushrooms, or any of the other odd little items my uber-picky palate rejects on first bite? Or even worse, what if the island was full of something truly awful… like Peeps? You know, those nasty little marshmallow candies shaped like chicks and bunnies, dyed pink and yellow, and placed as filler in countless children’s Easter baskets every spring. Do they even count as a food? I don’t think so. But I guess I’m lucky, given the circumstances. At least I can stomach these coconuts, and they should hold me over until I’m rescued. But after several weeks go by, I run out of coconuts. I was just starting to like them, and now I’d give anything for just one more. Soon I’m so hungry I can barely stand up under my own power. But as I lie in the sand, on the brink of starvation, I notice that something new has washed up on the shore. I can’t quite make out what it is, so I summon just enough strength to crawl toward the object. As I approach the object I realize it’s a large wooden crate. I see stamped across its side is the logo of a well-recognized food distributor. My heart leaps and with both excitement and relief. “I’m saved,” I think to myself. I don’t care what’s inside – it could be raspberries, or mushrooms, or even pecans. Whatever it is, I will gladly eat it. I crawl faster, licking my lips in anticipation of whatever hides inside. When I reach the crate, I remove its broken lid. After clearing away a layer of packing foam I see that the box is completely filled with smaller identical packages. I remove one of the packages, and with vision blurred by both fatigue and tears of joy I carefully read the label: “Peeps. 24-count.” I scream, and wake up.

  12. FOod Fear

    Being half Filipino, eating balut is part of the culture. Just the thought of eating a baby bird inside of a hard boiled egg disgusts me. All the males in my family love it but I have never built up the courage to try it. My grandpa always lightly taps the egg and pulls away the top part of the shell. that way he can suck all the warm juices which he says has all the flavor. My uncle likes to pull the bird away from the egg and yolk, then he examines the bird and plays with it. It's whole body intact, wings, legs, head and tiny beak. He then throws the whole thing in his mouth and describes it with a kind of crunchy texture. Maybe its the thought of eating a baby bird before it hatches, or maybe its the weird colors of brown and green that disturb me. whatever it is I doubt I will ever try it.

    -Dante Patriarca

  13. I must admit I'm afraid of spiders, especially if they're enormous like the ones at my aunt's house. They have eight little anorexic legs with an obese body that just gives me the creeps; not to forget their ability to move quickly. Having this internal fear of spiders, makes me absolutely positive that the most fearful food, for myself that is, would be an indigenous platter of cooked spiders. In fact I would be too scared to try anything petite with more than four legs, especially insects like the dirty roach. I found a dead fried roach in my food before from a takeout joint, when I seen the roach, its legs and antennas seemed to point in every direction, immediately I screamed and threw-up. Worst day ever, that's why I have an internal fear of spiders or insects in general.

  14. My wife and I recently went toZhihuatanejo, a small fishing town on the southwestern coast of Mexico. She had planned the trip without me while I was deployed and had not shared many of the details regarding our living and eating arrangements, so I felt a little nervous. On the second morning we were there, we came upon a little breakfast joint within the market. It was just a little corner kitchen next to a couple clothing outlets. We sat at the bar, behind which four women were busy preparing, assembling and cooking the meals, all of which happened inside a ten by ten foot space. The first morning I ordered molletes al gusto, fresh, toasted white bread with beans and the white cheese, lightly melted. I also ordered fresh squeezed grapefruit juice. The juice was so unlike American juices. Even unlike the fruit we have accessible to us at Safeway. The grapefruit juice in Mexico was sweet, not sour like at home. They didn’t even add sugar to the juice to make it that way. We went back to this same breakfast joint the remaining mornings. Every morning I showed up craving molletes al gusto and grapefruit juice. The food was by far one of the best fresh home cooked breakfasts I have had. It's odd for me to think of a breakfast that way because usually when I think of a home cooked meal I think of a dinner meal, not breakfast. I also enjoyed the busy atmosphere that the market created. While I sat there and ate my breakfast vendors were selling, cooks were preparing and life in general was chaotic. It was a memorable ten days of amazing breakfasts, but eventually I had to go back home.

  15. Food Fear

    In my life I have tired different kinds of food but there is this one fruit that scares the hell out of me. The durian is a yellowish/brownish ball covered in spikes. When you see durian it is unmistakable but what is more recognizable is the smell. The smell of the durian to me is really fowl. When you open the durian the insides of the fruit is a bright yellow and there are large seeds in the fruit. The texture of this fruit is gooey and I think it is creamy when one eats it. Thing about it I have had durian recently in durian flavored cheese cake. The first bite of the cheese cake I had I was like this is really familiar. I had my second bite and was like I know I have tasted this before. After my third bite I knew what I had just eaten and I could not eat no more. Even though the durian was hidden by this cheese cake the smell and taste gave it away. It has been forever since I have tasted this fruit by itself, I think I would be willing to try it again but that would only be out of curiosity to remember this awful taste.

    -Raymond Wong

  16. Food fantasy. I want a real hot dog!

  17. Jordan Hoy
    ENG102 10am
    Food fear.

    I have never been a 'seafood person.' I'll eat shrimp or even some fish n' chips, but those don't really count, do they? I shudder with disgust as I sit around the table from my family; bibs tucked in, cracking shells, slurping unidentified objects down their willing throats. Seafood has just never been my thing. I guess I'm just a 'red-meat man.'
    When I lived in Hong Kong, I travelled from host family to host family. It is Chinese custom for the host to have a banquet dinner or a large feast as a welcoming to their new guest. Living in their homes, I needed to be respectful to their family and show them how grateful I was. Going into this experience, I set a goal to 'try everything that came my way.' This was before I knew that it is also a custom to give the guest what is considered the "best" part of the crab for Chinese(the crab’s brain). I had four host families.
    The crabs crawled in the metal sink, scratching aggressively against the sides. Looking at their faces, you could tell that they knew what would come of them. Boiling in the pot, they don’t cry like lobsters, but in my mind, they were screaming.
    My host father cracks open the cranium, steam rising up. The smell engulfs the room; I try to smile politely and look excited. “Waaa..” everybody says as they see the crab.
    I think I could have managed eating a claw or something, but they insisted that I have the delicacy, the brain. In my broken Cantonese, I try and tell them that I have already had it(three other times). I try and tell them that I don’t really like seafood. Whatever I tried to tell them, they weren’t buying it. I didn’t want to be rude.
    The color was indescribable, almost resembling split pea soup. Perhaps, 30 year old split pea soup that. Normally eaten with a spoon like porridge, I chose to ‘savor’ my crab with little bits from my chopstick. Eating this would be unavoidable.
    I tried to weigh things out; is having a place to stay worth eating this?


    Food dream ...
    Those simple dishes have been my dream for rougly 3, 4 months ...!

  19. Red Robins is one of my favorite resturants. its food, puts me on an immediate high. I had the monster burger, with extra everything, pickles cut to prefection, lettuce is freshly washed, and its mayonasie has a smooth texture against my tongue. It puts me in a different world.. . typical conversation surrounds me, but i hear nothing, i am so intrigued and overwelmed by the delicious burger, it patty is thick and juicy, and the fries.. . were inexpressible, seasoned to perfection, steaming hot, with a side of ranch.. . my tastes buds went on a journey, i could barely contain the goodness. This meal was one of a kind.... . my eyes blinked, fluttering so fast i didnt know where i was. Finally, my eyes seen clearly and i realized, top ramen was in front of me.. . So simply, squirming in the hot soup. so i closed my eyes again; wishing that monster burger would re-appear.. .

  20. Termination via Expiration

    In the refrigerator, much like most of our kitchen, home and of my life, I try to maintain a sense of order. A place for everything, everything in its place and all that. At times, my persnickety behavior may seem a bit strict. Almost dictator like. I thought to name this piece “Milk Nazi,” but I didn’t want to risk offending anyone. The contents of said fridge are closely monitored by me. But about once a week one of the inmates starts to turn. Some trouble maker upsetting the balance of things. The milk. I guess it just can’t take being locked away only seeing light when the door is opened. As I open the fridge, eyes peeled for any menace to my happy little society of produce and there he (it) is. I part various item to get to the back of the top shelf. Hiding in the corner with his (its) tags (“sell by” date stamp) facing away from the front in hopes that I don’t notice. I reach in. He’s (it’s) too stunned to flee – not to mention it’s an inanimate object. Remember people, this is just a story; I’m just using a lot of personification. – or even move. I grab hold of the carton, close the gate (fridge door) and walk toward the sink. “Hy-Top Milk,” I begin, “you have been charged with and found guilty of the crime of expiration by the jury of myself, my eyes and ability to read. Jug, you have been sentence to on this day, have your contents be poured down the drain until empty. Have you any last remarks?” I open the cap so a statement can be made. A foul stench is released! “You dare spit in the face of your procurer?!” I tip the jug to pour the milk down the drain. As it swirls around and goes down, it makes sounds of distress. Glug, glug, glug. The deed is done, until next time.
    Shortly after the ordeal, I return to the fridge. Who’s (what’s) next?

  21. Sally Guan
    01/14/11 ENG 102
    Food nightmare

    Food is food and all food is edible right? Well for me, I judge food like I judge a book, I judge it by its appearance. So I will never eat something that doesn't look very appetizing to me. A food nightmare of mine that I will never even think about trying is fried insects. A woman held a plate to me that almost made me gag looking at it. On that plate was a variety of fried grasshoppers, worms, spiders, and crickets. Staring at the plate I could feel my stomach begin to churn the opposite way with unease. My uncle said it tasted like bacon, and told me to try some. I shook my head violently and backed away slowly. I watched in disgust as he picked up a dangling fried spider and ate each leg one by one, making a crunching sound. I fear bugs and insects with a passion, and I will never ever consider bringing an insect, whether dead or alive, to my mouth.

  22. SPEED DRAWING, here it is! Went with the food dream theme... This is a bit of an exaggeration of a dream I had a while ago in which a long-dead person showed up while I was making dinner and I was trying to figure out what to feed them... In the dream I ended up making them a sandwich, but sandwiches aren't that interesting to look at. :> SO BASICALLY. A drawing. About. How dead people are difficult guests. I guess this is kind of goofy, I'll just stop talking about it and give you the image!

    It's not letting me do HTML, so a link is all you get. CLICK IT.

    (Sorry about the small size, I end up drawing really small on my little netbook...)


  24. Food Nightmare
    By Christine Ma
    Being born in America, many would think I love fast food but the truth is, I dislike it. It may be an addicting and convenient type of food for many, but the grease it produces just scares me away. I’d rather not eat than eat fast food. Another reason why it scares me is the amount of calories as well as the amount of fat it contains. I could eat two meals worth of the same amount of calories as one meal of fast food.
    I remember the first time I ate fast food was when I was a small child, a child that didn’t care about nutrition. I only cared about the taste as it went into my mouth but as I grew older, I learned food intake affects the body. I cared about what went into my body and how the food affected my body as well as the effects it had as it digested. Eating fast food causes me to gain calorie, which leads to gain weight. It’s a scary thought of gaining weight due to the amount of food eaten and the amount of calories that are being ingested.

    There is also a picture that goes with this but I don't know how to attach it onto the blog so I will email it to you.

  25. I drawed sumfin. No sure whats going on.

    -Nicholas VanSchaick (10am class)

  26. I forgot to mentioned which class I'm in, so...
    Trang Tran
    English 102 - 8 AM
    C. Moir
    January 14, 2011

  27. I float on a velvety bed listening to the low din of afternoon conversation and familiar laughter. Tap, tap, tap. Whoosh. Hisssssss. The aroma is the first thing I want to know in the morning, the early afternoon wakeup, the late night perk. It all smells so good. My mind wanders as I feel its heat against my back like that warm spot you return to after the necessary trip down the hall in the cold of the night.

    As a kid, I hated floating face up in the water, knowing that any moment of sudden movement would release the tension beneath my head and I’d be a goner, never to be heard from again. But now I’m calm. I think of the grounds strewn about the counter and their satisfying bitterness at the end of the trip. The jar of goodwill. I barely acknowledge being enveloped as my mouth and nose submerge beneath the cloud. Goodbye little leaf. Goodbye heart.

    My hands wander down into its contrasting density on their own, swirling a little without intention. My heels can feel the difference now, then my butt, now the back of my ears. The laughter is gone now, replaced by a slight pressure and the passing speculation whether I’ll ever get my ears clean again. Do they sell a Q-tip for that? The front of my knees and my seasonal beer gut disappear, then my mouth and nose. There is no going back. Not now.

    Be careful what you wish for, but life is careful and this is not.

    Down, down, down. I’m not breathing. Or am I? Does it matter? The sweetness coats the inside of my mouth. Such a funny word: turbinado. I wish I could say it right now. Like the satisfaction of saying a dirty word; just thinking it isn’t enough. Maybe I should tread. But moving is sacrilege in times like these and besides, could I if I wanted to? Better not try.

    Every nerve in my body now feels the gentle, weightless pressure. Every involuntary twitch, a subtle feeling anew. Not sinking, but floating downwards. I wonder what it would feel like to be lanced by careless biscotti. That would make the papers, I bet. My butt bumps so gently that I barely notice it. Still wondering what the headlines would be. Darwin would simply shake his head.

    Fully at rest, still and peaceful. My new home rattles on occasion with a point made or a pun realized. Ah, yes, the old inflatable boy joke. That one will be the death of me.

  28. Jon Ilao
    ENG 102 8AM
    Food Fantasy - Celebration of the After Party

    How can you tell if you've had a good night out drinking? My answer lies in the morning after. If you feel like shit the next morning, you probably had a good evening. But why should you suffer after having such a good night? In my experiences, I've discovered various remedies for the worst hangovers. However, if you're really feeling the effects of one of those crazy nights, there is one way out. Hit up the closest vietnamese restaurant and grab some Pho.
    Pho is a signature vietnamese noodle soup. This foreign remedy consists of rice noodles served in a special broth with additional components for your gratification. You are able to choose a combination of beef slices such as steaks, flanks, and briskets that are cooked in the broth meanwhile adding tendons, tripes, or meatballs. But it doesn't stop there. The broth itself is key to delivering its formulated remedy. Its mixtures are still a mystery to me, however adding on oyster sauce and hot sauce creates a more potent noodle soup.
    Surely after this insight, you'll be down to have Pho after your next night out. If you ask me in person 'How does Pho cure a hangover?', my words will be 'How does it not?'.


  29. Never have I faced a dream I could not expel. A phantasmagoria I could not banish from my thoughts. But it was all too real, too incessant, that I could not imagine it any other way. After floating into my dream state, I found myself in a field of wavering green. As I looked around, I glanced up at the ceiling overhead. I craned my neck towards the sky, but in my efforts to expand, I was only met by a deluge of green. I tried to rally up my courage in the face of the deadly tsunami rushing at me, but all I had conjured was fear. Pulling into a tight ball, I felt the brushing of my worst enemy all around me: celery. With zeal, I clenched into a ball, unwilling to lower my defense. I would not let it enter me; my mouth would not be breached by the green intrusion. It could not be breached. But, as if reading my thoughts, I felt it morph. The prison of celery, solid in nature, slowly mutated itself into a hideous, oozing goo around me. I was unable to stop it with my now futile defenses. It began to creep towards my head, in through my arms, at a tauntingly slow speed. Soon, I smelled it through my nostrils. The taste of the green goo wandered into my mind, my inner sanctum, and dreadfully dabbed itself into my thoughts, invoking the horrible memories of it and surging it through my body. It was too late now. The nightmare had consumed me. And as dull ringing of an alarm slowly shook through my system, my last thoughts, broken and tortured, were of the sea of green slowly choking me, gradually phasing me back to reality.

  30. Will you...?

    Damm she's fine! Have your eyes ever stopped blinking, head in one direction,on one person? Yea, i know what you females are saying-He's such a dog. I am not. Those curves gave me pause- then caused my life muscle to start racing again. I walked over, said hello and by the time i realized i was in love, she was down on one knee proposing. My mouth wanted to say no but my heart was saying yes.
    In my opinion, It is absolutely impossible to know the ins-and-outs of a persons' ability and character in 4 months. Now we were about to live together. I began to question myself. Who is this woman, i asked. Omg, can she cook?!
    At that moment, my mind crossed over the bridge and into my past where the aroma filled the air and the visible line of heat energy forced its way out of the kitchen.
    When it comes to food preparation no one comes close to mom, she's in a league by herself. Where else was I going to find fried chicken- marinated to perfection, roast beef with the flamboyant taste of slightly smoked herbs, seasoned rice with vegetable bits, and carrot juice- correctly sweetned with honey!
    Its not that hard to make toast. The texture of bacon should not be this hard. And it's suppose to be pinkish, not burned black. A surprise would be nice every once-in-a-while. She needs help, serious help.
    Four years in, I can't do this anymore, I am returning her ring- today!I am not asking for much, I just want a wife who can cook, if even with the help of a cookbook. Is she out there?

  31. I hate onions. I've never liked them, and i honestly do not think i ever will. To me, onions are not like those foods that you just "get over" your disliking for. They are one of the few banes of my existence. I gave them a shot when i was a wee little girl, perhaps three years and some change. I was eating a burrito with onions in it, i believe from Taco Bell. Don't get me wrong, i love Taco Bell, i go there at least once a week, but what happened that fateful day made me wary of their burritos for the rest of my life. As a toddler, i naturally wanted a bean and cheese burrito. Nothing more, nothing less. I was a picky eater, preferring only things with cheese or sugar in them. As i took a bite of the warm, melting dream of a meal, i crunched down on something. Something...sour. Something...hard? Something...NASTY! I swallowed it and shrugged it off, and took another bite. Oh man. Another one of the nasty bits. I swallowed, but as i continued to think about how it tasted, my delicious Taco Bell came right back up and onto the carpet in the back of my parents overheating red Volvo. The poor interior was never the same again. A few years ago, i returned to Taco Bell and ordered...GASP...a bean and cheese burrito. It was delicious, but again, with the onions! i soon found out that they actually put onions in their burritos no matter what kind they are. Needless to say, i changed my mind about it completely. I literally have flashbacks and day-mares about finding raw onions in my burritos, even if they're made by my lovely mother who knows all too well how much i hate the pieces of shit. I am now a proud member of the Cheesy Gordita Crunch fanclub. Just kidding. They really are delicious, though, try one!

  32. My Greatest Friend, My Worst Foe.
    Food. Food is my bestfriend, yet it is also my enemy. I love food with a strong passion, and I often find myself nibbling on some chocolates or crunching on some snacks here and there when I am not feeling happy. Although I love food with a passion, I have learned to control myself better, to not eat too much. One of my greatest fear is the extra blubber which hangs out of my skin tight jeans, or what we refer to as, "a muffin top." My greatest nightmare isn't the effort I place into my intense workouts or training, but perhaps it is the fact that it takes me a greater amount of time to burn off the nasty calories than to actaully gain it. This brings me back to a time when I was in a desperate need of losing weight in a short amount of time. I would do all the intense work outs and eat as little as possible. I knew this wasn't going to be healthy for me but there was no other way that I could do, in order to cut down a little weight each week. Prom was only months away! I worked so hard, then I came to realize that all my effort went to waste! I ended up eating like a mere pig, once and for all. I could no longer hold myself back from delicious foods, so I ordered a fat steak that was probably like one million calories at Apple Bees. Then I gained back all my weight, so it was like one whole month of killing myself with all sorts of intense training while I "starve" myself, v.s one night of eating a plate of steak... That, is certainly my worst food nightmare!!!! Food to me is so loving yet so evil. First, it dresses up in a deceiving, mouth watering coat, and it satisfies my hunger to make me happy temporarily, then the next thing it contributes to my blubber that hangs out of my jeans...

  33. Alas, the day has come! Time for me to confess!! I have a slight germ phobia. I have gotten so much better over the years, but IT still emerges in many small ways. One of the things which really get to me is the potluck. Potlucks are wonderful ways to have gatherings without any one investing too much time and money into the event and I love to cook for others, but I find it difficult to participate. Each time I see others indulge in unclean habits, I am reminded of the reason I cannot abide a potluck. I have a multitude of tricks I use to evade potlucks. I always bring an elaborate, made-from scratch dish, and I make sure to volunteer to arrange and re-arrange the dishes. For the most part, this is all that is needed. Most people never question the organizers nor the clean-up crew. When someone is dying for me to sample their cuisine, I usually tell them I will try it later, when I have a moment to savor it. I can then send a text or electronic mail thanking them for their exquisite morsel. I have many more ways to evade the sample, but I will never give away all my secrets!!!

  34. All I've ever wanted to do is be in one of those tours that take you to all the best restaurants in New York. One where I would be taken to delicious hole in the wall places, secret gems that have the best Philly Cheesesteaks in all of New York, and the most extravagant restaurants with mouth watering meals. That way I wouldn't have to do any work or research and would just be lead around like a dog on a leash to all the best places. After a long hard day of feasting, I would go home in a food coma and come out of it relaxed and happy like an overfed baby. Even better, what would it be like to lead those tours and eat delicious food day after day after day until I could just roll around town showing people the best places to enjoy some fried Twinkies?

  35. 10 AM class

    Food Psychopath Dream.

    As I drift off, my smart and sane mind alters to a mind in falter.. My thoughts change and I become intertwined in food. I feel like a different person... *switch*

    Food is a melody to the potent sensuality of my senses. Taking complete and powerful control over me, such passion swirled with a happiness undefinable with the mind. Only the soul. Oh yes, I can become lost in a meal. Food is my distraction from anything else when I got it where I want it. In front of me!! Sounds of sweet delight with my eyes closed, giggling, whispering about the flavors, aromas, and textures on my taste buds. People stare, and I don't notice. My dish has all of the undivided attention deserving. My senses fall in a deep trance as I lose all sanity, allowing this food to possess all of my soul. Food takes me there. I really love it. I obsess. I mean.. I love other hobbies with the same depth but in there own unique right like writing, dance, and the embrace of my free spirit in the outdoors..when I am normal again.But food? A sort of high sparks up in my brain, euphoric little happiness. Making me want to take on anything right there with a mouth full of Gyros, or Filet Mignon, or a Sashimi tuna roll, or even Chicken Tika Masala. All food is welcome on my plate with no hesitation, I will take great and loving care. And with every bite, I say farewell to my mind as my thoughts deteriorate to a silent nonexistence. Food steals my heart. My soul. My dreams. I become reckless. What will happen when I wake up one day? * Switch*

    As I wake every morning, I always feel that much more of a suspicious magnetic glue towards eating.. Gosh, I am hungry. What the hell?

  36. 10 AM English 102 -- Eli R. Hanavan

    I’ve been out to my fair share of restaurants in my life, ranging from questionable ‘mom and pop’ breakfast, lunch and dinner diners to modestly fancy, somewhat expensive, restaurants. However, I’ve never had the opportunity to experience what an authentic fine dining establishment has to offer. Sure, it may seem be a bit to self-indulgent, but it is a food fantasy after all.

    If I had a food fantasy, it would be to dine in a world class restaurant. Not your average Red Robin, but the kind of fine dining establishment you’d expect to see in a James Bond movie. The kind of restaurant where you don’t really order off a menu, you just get served an amazing meal knowing whatever comes out of the kitchen is likely to be scrumptious. The type of place where they don’t bother with the crappy part of the cow we usually get, they only serve the finest cuts of meat. Everything is expensive, that’s just assumed. If there was a menu, you probably couldn’t even pronounce the names of half the entrees, let alone the ingredients. Accordingly, dessert most defiantly wouldn’t be an option at the end of a meal in which you had to decide whether you wanted to spend an extra twelve dollars, it would just be a given. Now since this fine dining experience would be my fantasy, I wouldn’t be picking up the tab either.

  37. 8 AM - Lynn Pham

    [sent email regarding on late post ]

    "What is that?" I screamed. I've never tried pie before. Blueberry, pumpkin, cheese pie, I really don't know any of them. Giving pie a chance never came in as a thought to me. People tell me it's like eating a cake, but with a crust. The only memory I have is seeing pie in cartoons. The little cat would do anything to get a slice, after many failed attempts.
    My mom brought pie home one day, apple pie. Each member in my family received a slice; even me. While everyone else enjoyed their individual slices, I left my share sitting on the dinner table. The sight of it got me shivering. The contents of the pie gave me a thought I wouldn't enjoy. My mind contained a thought of removing the filling, for it to look like cake. That really threw me off.
    My siblings glanced up at me, looking at my untouched slice. I didn't know what to do with my apple pie. Throw it away maybe? My parents would yell at me. I shoved my plate towards my parents. Their eyes didn't look too pleasant. I shivered more in fear, acknowledging the fact that something bad would happen soon.
    What to do, what to do? The dinner table sat in silence. Everyone just quietly gave me eye contact. My only option, force that thing in my mouth and hope for the best. "I don't want to eat that." I told my parents, finding the courage to speak. Right then, I noticed my choice wasn't very wise.
    "Do you need help?" my parents offered. I thought back to the times my parents helped me drink my medications; especially the pills.. Not much of a pleasant sight. Eventually after a few times of forcing myself, I was capable of swallowing a pill, just well as drinking water.
    I never remembered a time where I accepted their offer. Today is not going to be my first. "No, I hate it." I replied. I know I’m done with now; I've drawn the last straw. I watched my parents both stood up and headed over to me.

  38. sent email about late post

    I’ve been on the airplane for two days with food consisting of only microwaveable frozen foods, crackers and boxed juices. I guess the price of last-class airplane travel my family and I paid for was resulted into the lack of actual “REAL” meals. By “real” meals, I mean meals that will make me drool by the first sniff of the amazing aroma. The sight of the kaleidoscopic cuisine of a perfectly blended dish of meats, vegetables and food decors were so intense that it felt as if I already took a mouthful of the juicy and flavorful dish. I soon began to see disfigured human shapes become clearer as the person came to me with a surprise cuisine. The server brought the platter to the side of my throne-like-seat. The cover was removed and it seemed like a culinary remake of Jesus’ baptism as the heavens opened up singing harmoniously for the blast of taste that I got from every bite of this “real meal”. It brought kicks and jolts from my mouth running down my spine. Every cell of my body to every taste bud in my mouth felt the tiny electrical shock of goodness. The taste was so pleasing that I can almost cry for joy. I yelled out that I wished everyone in the world can taste all the wonderful blend of flavors that paraded in my mouth at that moment. I soon unconsciously snapped back into reality. The airplane hostess gave me the last meal of the airplane ride. My throne soon faded out into an uncomfortable airplane seat, the food began to lose its color, the smell no longer smelled like real food, and it was no longer served to me in a elite platter but in a microwaveable food paper bowl. The dream cuisine is such a mystery to me; it was like a perfect blend of all the flavors into one edible substance. Day dream, or real life, it gave me another goal in life: find the “REAL MEAL” from the airplane dream.

    Kim Bernales

  39. Wow, some of these are awesome. Now I'm wishing I got to this in time...

  40. The 500 foot tall pie loomed high overhead, the shadow casting me into an artificial night despite the fact that it was midday. I began the ascent up the rickety tower that lead to the diving board. It was the kind of rickety where all of the rungs were rotting and loose, and every so often one would break out from underfoot. The higher I climbed, the more swaying I could feel in the tower – the rusty bolts creaking against the ancient wood in a kind of terrible, ominous symphony.
    All I could think about was how dumb it was for me to have taken the gamble. It was during a late night poker game, with my losses steadily rising, that I had cried out in desperation that I would take a pie to the face against winning back everything I had lost. I hadn’t intended this kind of pie. I was thinking more of an average sized pie, thrown from a reasonable distance, which I could take with good humor. Not this. This pie was over a mile wide, and the diving board jutted out over the very center, 100 feet above the crust. I would have to swim my way out through the filling, and I had no idea how I was going to get back down to the ground. Breathing seemed like it could become an issue also.
    I was halfway up the tower, and it was almost more than I could handle to just prevent myself from being thrown off. The tower jerked back and forth unpredictably, and occasionally a rivet or bolt would pop out and the structure would abruptly jar to one side. I could see all of my friends watching from the spectator tower a ways down the rim – a heavily reinforced, steel tower that stood straight and sported large platforms every few levels with a connecting elevator. I have to do this, I thought to myself, otherwise I will never be able to face them again.
    I climbed on, steadily making progress despite the continuing slow collapse of the structure. When I still had 150 feet to go, the sun came out over the rim, beating down upon me and making me sweat so that handholds began to be slippery. It seemed to take days for me to reach the top, but when I did the relief that washed over me evaporated immediately when I saw the path out to the diving board.
    It was a narrow walkway – varying in width depending on how many boards were missing from at any given point. There were no railings, and the ropes – hanging from a series of towers around the rim – that supported the structure were all either fraying or missing. The boards wobbled, creaked and jerked about sporadically.
    When I made my first step onto the walkway, the entire structure made a deafening creak and snap as it broke off from the tower. The link between walkway and tower had broken easily, and with it any hope I had that the tower would be able to stay standing on its own. The tower began cracking and splintering with an enormous racket, but I did not stay to watch it fall.
    I was running as fast as I could towards the center, the walkway falling off behind me as I went. The ropes supporting the walkway snapped quickly and easily at my every footfall with a consistency that made me suspect they had been made to do so. I ran faster and faster, barely keeping ahead of the destruction I was causing. My mind was completely focused – I could think of nothing but the diving board ahead and the enormous, delicious, cherry pie beneath that I was about to eat myself out of. I could see the end approaching - a standard pool style spring board that looked completely out of place in this ridiculous situation. Everything slowed down as my first foot fell onto the fiberglass. By the second footfall the sound of splintering and popping behind me had turned into a slow groaning sound. The third footfall came and went, and then I brought both feet together in midair. I landed on the very end of the board, and with my mind consumed with thoughts of giant cherries, filling and crust, I jumped.

  41. The best and most memorable meals of my life have all come in situations where food became a necessity rather than a luxury. In the wilderness, when food is not available in seemingly endless quantities, food becomes a sacred resource which is appreciated in a different way. When you’ve skipped breakfast and lunch because there was nothing to eat, you’ll find that your attitude towards food completely changes. In my experience, you can have an entirely different relationship with food when it’s scarce or hard to come by. It becomes so much more enjoyable. Consider this situation:
    You’re with friends in the wilderness. You’ve run out of food, and have missed two meals. You feel yourself begin to get frantic, as your priorities completely switch to finding food. No more concern about the path ahead, the cut on your leg, or the mosquitoes bites on your arm; your mind is taken over by the overwhelming sensation of hunger.
    With a lake nearby and fishing gear on hand, it’s time to catch fish. Earlier in the trip you tried fishing, but after a half hour of no bites your short attention span led you to give up, laugh it off, and settle for a sandwich. Now, after three hours out on the lake still with no fish, your focus hasn’t swayed at all. The small trout that got away about an hour ago is haunting your mind. Time and time again, you are recasting, rebating, and reworking your method; you need to catch a fish. It’s about 8:00 PM and its beginning to get dark. The hunger is making you frantic, there is no boredom only focus driven by the necessity of success. Having not consumed a single calorie all day, you can feel your mind and body is weak.
    Sudden success! A friend pulls in an eight inch trout, but it’s not even enough to fill one of the four empty stomachs. An argument and fight breaks out among all four friends, who is going to get the fish? Will it be split between the four of you or not? You notice everyone’s uncharacteristically selfish, only 24 hours without food has put an end to courtesy and politeness. Raised voices echo across the lake. Through the anger and shouting you feel a pull on your line. Its small at first, but then suddenly the end of your rod bends against the weight of the unseen captive far below. Intense adrenaline courses through your veins as you realize what’s happened. You feel the strength of the fish as you reel. Afraid of the line snapping against the weight of the fish, you let some line out. The fish is too big to bring up with your thin line, as a relatively experienced fisherman you know you’ll have to tire out the fish in order to bring it in the boat. After 15 frenzied minutes of fighting the fish, reeling the line in then letting it run out, finally the fish is in sight about eight feet under water. Everyone screams in delight. It’s a trout for sure, probably somewhere between two and two and a half feet long; an absolutely humongous fish for such a small lake. You pull the fish out of the water and quickly into to boat, and the battle is won. Everyone is ecstatic with the victory as you paddle back to shore.
    You’re surprised how fast you can make a fire, and in no time the fish is filleted and the two huge 20” steaks are on the fire. At exactly 10:00 PM you bite into the charred unseasoned trout; the word delicious just doesn’t give the taste any justice. You eat fish until you can’t eat anymore, and stuffed with still more fish to be eaten; you begin to laugh and joke with your friends around the fire. No $80.00 meal at a restaurant or thanksgiving feast could even come close to the dining experience you just had. You realize that was the best meal of your life.

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  43. Escargot is a disgusting vial dish; I do not enjoy eating any living thing that is not a mammal, bird, fish, or plant. The first time I took a chance and tried it I was on vacation in Monaco, the small family restaurant looked over a cliff out into the Mediterranean coast as if a I was dinning in a panting, but my fairy tale vacation died the second the lights went out and I discovered that they had a tradition of serving American customers escargot in the dark so our table could not see the food we were about to consume. The aroma of the buttery garlic sauce filled the room and we all wanted to try real escargot, and not the crap we eat in America. The escargot was huge half the size of my fist. I tried to pick it up and swallow the balloon textured garlic snail, it was just too big. Then I began to panic there was a giant monster snail in my mouth. Maybe it still had snail eggs in it, was it male or female, do I real want to know? My travel buddies all seemed to enjoy it, even the vegetarian ate one. I didn’t want to offend anyone so I began to chew. Ewe I feel gritty sand texture in my mouth and now bags are popping spewing snail juice. I began shaking back and forth trying to swallow but I just couldn’t do it. I began to have visions of snails crying and looking at me. I thought of me falling into a pit of snails trying not to suffocate as they choke me and try to consume me. I put my napkin up to my mouth discreetly and through up a little as I spit it out. That was the worst food nightmare of my life. I am one of the most open mined people out there; however I just couldn’t eat it, and the next time someone offers me escargot I will polity say no thanks!

  44. Ah to think about the love of food, it takes more than just descriptive words or catchy phrases. It is more like a casserole, more specifically a tater tot casserole. There are so many layers of love surrounding the thought of food and what it means to each and every one of us. The foundation layer, raw and squishy hamburger layered out a half inch thick, is a great representation of the traditions laid out by the family or community, firmly cemented in your daily life. The sweet and savory condensed cream of chicken soup(from Campbell's) is the representation of change and the willingness to do so(the original recipe calls for cream of mushroom). This says that while you are firm in your traditions and background, you are not to good to try something new. The bag of frozen mixed vegetables, from lime green to the most vivid orange, mixed with the massive amount of brightly yellow corn pieces, can represent many things. Firstly, it can serve to remind us that food is an important part of out daily living. If you do not eat, you can't sustain life, therefore food is a necessary part of all life. Secondly, it can mean the many variations and colors of the world. That so many little things we sometimes take for granted are more important to us than we could ever perceive. Lastly the tater tots and cheese represent just that. How can you eat tater tots covered in cheese and not fall in love?
    The College Juggalo