Snackin’ on yo’ booty snacks

 

 

The wreckage of the HMS Hog Island: Salty oyster guts dried to the hood of Jaysephina's car, parked on the side of Highway 1. Sorry, Jay!

Flamin’ Hot Cheetoh–wire: I pitched a theme night to Anthony for MSF, that I think would be the perfect opportunity to premiere my inverted Bruce Willis Nacho and something I’m tentatively calling “Is this birdseed?” Details to follow, but I think this is gonna be the straight fat sauce. [via FatBumps]

Adam and Eve–wire: Tried eating a weird fruit we found while camping on the Russian River last weekend. Thought it was a chayote, but it turns out I don’t know what a chayote looks like. It tasted bitter like fear. Ate it more than once. [via BeersForEars]

Ashton Kutcher–wire: We’ll never have a legitimate street food culture in America so long as people are afraid of puking. Crotchety hot dogmen harrassing mobile macarooneries, and shithead real estate moguls getting pissy about their sidewalks have something to do with it. But territorial competition stems from permit bureaucracy. The permit system, in turn, seems to be rooted firmly in the belief  that if we don’t issue permits then every yahoo without a job will start serving cockroach cupcakes from rat poop rickshaws. But as someone who has worked and eaten in fully permissible restaurants as well as permitless hovels, I think the difference is hazy. That’s not to say that there’s a linear solution. If we were all to get over our sanitation phobias—both reasonable and skittish ones—and a free market street food system arose, it wouldn’t mean that we’d suddenly be looking at Chiang Mai West, I don’t think.

Is street food a positive byproduct of an underdeveloped infrastructure? I mean, if your tap water gives you diarrhea, do you care whether or not your food was prepared on your neighbor’s toilet seat? Conversely, if you can get a permissible “clean” cookie for $.85, would you buy a street cookie for $.80? Are we too civilized for a decent street food culture? And if that is the case, can moving backward possibly be part of moving forward, food-wise? Alas, I fear a complete socioeconomic collapse and reset might be the only road to American street food. 

I guess this discussion is forced by the emergence of the fancy pants street cart, which some complain is itself an impediment to real street food culture. But I feel like the nuisance of the designer cupcake cart resolves itself in post-apocalyptal Street Food America, as the novelty of eating fancy food in non-fancy places fades away when there are no fancy places. [via VaguelyRacistPointlessMusings]

Yountville To Vegas-wire: It’s irresponsible to eat at Bouchon in Vegas, right? Or am I actually saving on carbon emissions by meeting the Lobster Lady halfway from Maine? Is it a shame to fly to Vegas for a meal I could have (probably better, too) right in my backyard? Where else am I going to eat in Vegas, if not Bouchon? [via BIMBY]

Quilty-wire: Man’s meal, take two, at Tataki last night with Daddy Daycare, Quilty, and Sarek. Discussed: Peyote-eating policy consultants, suspension-raised scallops, rhubarb dick, My Own Worst Enemy, & family-style marijuana panic attacks.  [via @mammaspaghetti]