It's time again to delve into the lurid world of transcontinental food porn. Here now, a look back at
July's most mouthwatering dishes, perverted by a little base syntax. Ohhhh, syntax.
You consider yourself experimental. But you were unprepared for the things you saw at LA’s Helados la Michoacana. Literally anything goes over there. Everything just piled on in a squirmy, sticky muddle, extremities poking out in every direction. You’ve stared into the abyss. And it was good.
Look, it happens to a lot of pork, okay? The bacon omakase at Brooklyn's Belly is no exception. Don’t beat yourself up over that limp slab of meat just sort of dangling there uselessly. You’ll be back.
John Stamos. His mulleted visage still screams “hot sex.” And that little sound you make as you lap up this Stamos-shaped butter beside the cornbread at Chicago’s Riot House? Only Stamos can make you make that sound.
When your eyes first landed on Shepherd’s pie at Robert Irvine’s Public House in Vegas, it seemed like the quiet, traditional British type. Polite, composed, stiff-upper-lip and all of that. But once you started working it into your mouth, the animal within was revealed, the soft interior caving into a juicy, meaty mess that left your dirty maw ever more sullied. Damn good pie.
Oh, come on, Miami. This is almost too easy.
We knew this one freak who told us she was super turned-on by alien-tentacle manga porn. She denied it years later when we brought it up again. Anyway, this Alaskan king crab at Chicago’s Steak 48 just reminded us of that. And that we should probably call her.
No way, Secret Lasagna. We will not “smell” your “finger.” But we may eat your lasagna.
Trussed up. Scarified. Pink-in-the-middle. The chop from LA’s PlaceSetting shows there’s nothing new under the sun. Even the food of the 1940’s got into some pretty rough stuff from time to time.
It’s not like you insist on your truffles being shaved. It’s more of just a nice little surprise, like when you tuck into a pizza at Miami’s la Leggenda and find them arranged all neat and tidy like that between its silky burrata and two quivering quail eggs.
Asian Box. You like Asian Box. You love Asian Box. You’re craving Asian Box right now in fact. Perhaps you'll start with this chicken dish the chain serves.
You consider yourself experimental. But you were unprepared for the things you saw at LA’s Helados la Michoacana. Literally anything goes over there. Everything just piled on in a squirmy, sticky muddle, extremities poking out in every direction. You’ve stared into the abyss. And it was good.
Look, it happens to a lot of pork, okay? The bacon omakase at Brooklyn's Belly is no exception. Don’t beat yourself up over that limp slab of meat just sort of dangling there uselessly. You’ll be back.
John Stamos. His mulleted visage still screams “hot sex.” And that little sound you make as you lap up this Stamos-shaped butter beside the cornbread at Chicago’s Riot House? Only Stamos can make you make that sound.
When your eyes first landed on Shepherd’s pie at Robert Irvine’s Public House in Vegas, it seemed like the quiet, traditional British type. Polite, composed, stiff-upper-lip and all of that. But once you started working it into your mouth, the animal within was revealed, the soft interior caving into a juicy, meaty mess that left your dirty maw ever more sullied. Damn good pie.
Oh, come on, Miami. This is almost too easy.
We knew this one freak who told us she was super turned-on by alien-tentacle manga porn. She denied it years later when we brought it up again. Anyway, this Alaskan king crab at Chicago’s Steak 48 just reminded us of that. And that we should probably call her.
No way, Secret Lasagna. We will not “smell” your “finger.” But we may eat your lasagna.
Trussed up. Scarified. Pink-in-the-middle. The chop from LA’s PlaceSetting shows there’s nothing new under the sun. Even the food of the 1940’s got into some pretty rough stuff from time to time.
It’s not like you insist on your truffles being shaved. It’s more of just a nice little surprise, like when you tuck into a pizza at Miami’s la Leggenda and find them arranged all neat and tidy like that between its silky burrata and two quivering quail eggs.
Asian Box. You like Asian Box. You love Asian Box. You’re craving Asian Box right now in fact. Perhaps you'll start with this chicken dish the chain serves.
