Laurie Notaro's Eight Food(ie) Terms Past Their Expiration Dates
Some people, such as readers of Eatocracy, followers of multiple food blogs, and Food Network devotees, consider themselves as inductees in a special club of "culinary provocateurs" who rise far above the standard chewers of mealtime. So much to the point that as any exclusive rank, they've invented their own language, like twins who didn't eat each other in the womb, or a feral Jodie Foster living secretly in the woods.
Chicka, Chicka, chickabee.
Anyway, below are the most horrific examples of Foodiespeak, gathered from all sources. Naturally, I believe a punishment schedule should be enforced so the rest of us don't have to tolerate this nonsense as it invades menus, cooking shows, and conversations overheard from the asshole in the booth behind us that will eventually cause a spoon-related attack, mark my words. The ones you can understand.
8. Amuse Bouche
Thanks, Padma Lakshmi, for bringing this gem to the forefront when you could have just said, "appetizer," or even more truthfully, "jalapeño popper." Now every guy who owns a can of hair fixative is busy telling his guests that spray cheese on a Triscuit is something super classy, like dip in a bread bowl. Amuse your own mouth, Padma; you have an illegitimate baby. You do.
Punishment: be made to eat dip AND the bread bowl.
This is an asshole's word for texture. The only time anyone should ever be concerned with mouthfeel is if you don't have any, or if your mouth terrain is being altered without the aid of narcotics.
Punishment: the removal of a visible tooth and the onset of dry sockets. Let's make them eat the tooth, too. THAT's mouthfeel.
Jesus wept, I swear. These bubbles are nothing but food spittle. For all you know, there could be a station of assisted living people sitting in the kitchen chewing your dinner first and dribbling all over your food. That's what you need to think about when you see that on a menu, because any food that can create foam is either going to cause a disease or cure one.
Punishment: forced to eat any Hometown Buffet dish covered in its own foam.
5. "Two ways"
How about SHUT UP two ways? One with a disgusted look on my face when you take your pomposity to the level that you feel the need to explain why you fried a piece of pork and then also roasted one. How much Adderall are you on that you can't handle eating one piece of meat the same way for the whole meal? The second way of telling you to SHUT UP is by using my "finger feel" to determine which piece of meat is hotter so I know which one to pick up and throw at your face.
Punishment: style Donald Trump's hair because if you want to attain that level of tooldom, you need to understand the root of the word.
This means jam. It means nothing but jam, except that in Italian it means "asshole" or more specifically, "sphincter." Not so fancy now, is it?
Punishment: an Anthony Bourdain dream in which he is allowed to do anything to you with a pork butt, and you like it. The shame when you awake is paralyzing.
3."BTBRTS" and "Sprinky Dink"
Both of these are born of the unholy Anne Burrell. Okay, so in a way I like her because she has the gut of a Teamster and still insists on wearing sweaters, but I also realize that anyone capable of such atrocities as BTBRTS -- "bring to boil; reduce to simmer" -- also has the power in her to kick out anyone's teeth after two Long Island iced teas. I think this one is an arcing wire, the work of a mad man.
So what if I can tell where her bellybutton is when she's wearing a turtleneck: "Sprinky dink" is nothing short of making me want to drink two Long Island iced teas and rear up my own hooves.
Punishment: wear an acrylic XS sweater from Walmart and speak in nothing but anagrams all day while someone films you, then makes you watch it.
I just hate it, I know you don't mean it, and it makes you sound fatter.
Punishment: For every offense, you must donate a toe to Paula Deen.
1. "There's No Crying In Top Chef!"
Alas, but there is. You've not only lost -- most likely to a bossy fat girl, but possibly to your own shithead brother -- but no one will ever come to your restaurant again. And yes, chances are good that we have seen the last of you, not counting the reunion show.
Punishment: the reunion show.
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