Xiao Long Tang Bao

I’m heading over to Fu Fu Cafe for dinner tonight, and realizing that I never did post Part Two of the Great Dumpling Crawl.  Damn!

Part of the reason why is that my camera crapped out on me halfway through the crawl (just like it did at the last tenacity dinner) and the other part is that this week has just been crazy-busy with work.  So, many apologies, dear hearts (sorry, I watched The Night of the Hunter for the umpteenth time the other day).

I will be sure to post the second half of the Dumpling Crawl antics (including stories of seasonally-inappropriate music and bony duck tongues) the very moment that I get a chance.  Until then, have a wonderful weekend filled with ice cream, iced tea, Icees or whatever keeps you cool and carefree on our hot summer days!

You Cantu Please Everyone

I was barely watching The Early Show this morning as I got dressed for work.  I say “barely,” not only because it was just kind of on the background to provide some morning-type ambient noise, but also because The Early Show manages to do some of the dumbest segments on morning TV and I try to avoid watching them too closely for fear of rotting my brain.

Example: this morning, we saw their weatherman participating in a Red Bull Flugtag team event, which sounds fun except that the weatherman had worked himself up into a panicked frenzy that one would normally reserve for base jumping off the Petronas Towers, not for hopping about 15 feet into Tampa Bay.  It’s just exhausting.  Not even poor Harry Smith and his distinguished demeanor can maintain any semblance of mature news journalism on this show*.

This morning, however, I perked up when I heard that Homaro Cantu would be guest cheffing on the show.  How interesting!  Oh, but wait…  Maggie Rodriguez will be doing the segment?  Crap.

Maggie breathlessly expositioned before Cantu was introduced that he’s the reigning “king” of this baffling new technique called “molecular gastronomy.”  Oy vey.  The rest of the segment consisted of Maggie Rodriguez reticently trying Cantu’s liquid nitrogen sushi balls, barbeque-flavored edible paper and a “charcoal briquet” made of bread while attempting to smile politely throughout.

It was a hilarious contrast in temperaments: the “mad scientist” chef (I didn’t call him that, Maggie did) enthusiastically presenting his creations, while the fake-as-Lee-Press-On-nails anchor weaseled her way through each course with a wan smile, her attitude managing to whittle away Cantu’s enthusiasm in record time.  By the end of the segment, you could tell that each wanted nothing more than to just get the hell away from the other.

Hey.  Not everyone’s a foodie.  That’s okay.  But maybe next time, Cantu’s people and The Early Show people can both do better jobs of finding better fits for their prospective clients.  Banal morning TV programs catering to stay-at-home moms and retired Floridians really are no place for progressive chefs.

*Why do I watch this show if I clearly dislike it so much?  Because I’m too lazy to change the channel.  If it’s on, it’s on.