Some Things of Interest 12/3/13: Ritz Crackers and a Danger in Your Refridgerator You Might Not Know About. News at Eleven.



My fascination with Canadians and their food dates back to a family trip to Detroit almost twenty years ago. My brother and I crossed over to Windsor to order a bacon cheeseburger and see what we got. We wanted to know if Canadians called Canadian bacon “Canadian bacon” or just plain “bacon.” My honeymoon was spent eating our way through Vancouver and Victoria which, I should tell you, if you haven’t, do. I must admit to overlooking the fastidiousness with which Canadians go about balancing their meals. At least Canadians not named Kristin Barkiw of Rossburn, Manitoba, which is somewhere up there.

The lunch she packed for her two children, roast beef with carrots, potatoes, milk and an orange, missed the mark of 1 milk, 1 meat, 1 grain, and 2 fruits/vegetable by a grain, so unlike a Big Mac – two all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onion, on a sesame seed bun – did not meet the requirements set down by her chosen day care facility and left her subject to a fine of $5 per child. Not to be left grainless, the day care supplemented the kid’s meal with Ritz crackers, and here the trouble begins. As James Lileks points out in his “Athwart” column in the recent National Review, the choice of Ritz crackers is particularly provocative. As the plural of Ritz is Ritz and there are two children involved we are left unsure how many butter filled processed grain wafers are required to raise the nutritional value of left over roast beef, carrots, potatoes, an orange, and some milk to that of a Big Mac. One? Three? Half? Perfidy!

Turkey LeftoversFive days in and we still have a long way to go. Seven adults and two children had a go at the beast on Thanksgiving night. Days of snacking, various meals, and a carcass devouring soup have already claimed their shares and still a mighty pile remains. Tonight, pulled meat with turkey stock and Scriracha. It won’t make a dent. In my Google quest to find something interesting to do with the remains I came across this surprising article warning against keeping left over turkey in the fridge for more than three or four days lest it bacterialize you. Confident that the warning came from someone who owns a “Roadtrip for Ralph ’08” t-shirt, assuming they haven’t all spontaneously biodegraded by now, I searched for refutation. Nope. No Corvair here. Thanksgiving Turkey, per the experts, is bad by Monday. To put that in perspective, say your attempt to have The Best Christmas Ever! via a Wal-Mart Black Friday sale results in a broken arm and possible concussion requiring observation. By the time you are released from the hospital your bird is likely contaminated. No leftovers? That’s not America. At least not as our founders saw it. I say this because I plan on eating the rest of this bird and there is no way I’m finishing tonight. I know that I go on blogging hiatus for weeks or months, but I intend to keep at it for the next little while, so in case you don’t hear from me in the next few days, assume the worst.

The University of Notre Dame is not Mario Batali. Is it just me or does it seem like he should have at least one if not two more consonants in his last name. Turns out it was prudence rather than greed that delayed payment. As of this afternoon, Legends of Notre Dame, a bar owned by the university has released two $5,000 tips to two of their bartenders. An anonymous benefactor has made a habit of stamping receipts with @tipsforjesus and tipping $3,000 and $7,000 in Michigan and $5,000 twice in one place on the same day near Notre Dame and tips in the thousands popping up all over the country. Suspicion leans toward the patron being a college football fan as college football fans are inherently noble. Also, the receipts pop up in towns around the time they host “major” (for the non-SEC fan at least, which is cute) college football games. But back to Legend’s of Notre Dame, why can I get “Irish Nachos” but there’s no Shepherd’s Pie?

Etc. Damn, that was a sexy press conference… Because you can’t put a price on, wait. What?… How is it alive? How?… The good life in action.

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