Authentic Finger Sandwiches

As I've previously mentioned on this blog, I have fond memories of the great Wendy's thumb-in-the-chili scare of 2005.  The incident escalated into a huge win-win for just about everyone involved.  Office workers got a great story for the water cooler, and I personally benefited many times over when Wendy's offered free Frosty's for a weekend in a shameless attempt to stifle the bad publicity.  Not everyone fared so well I guess...Wendy's suffered all that aforementioned bad publicity, and the woman behind the fake thumb hoax is now banned from Wendy's for life.  (Though one could argue whether that's a punishment).  And seven years later, I benefited again when I found this low quality but still entertaining photo on the internet:

If 2005 was the year of the chili, 2012 is shaping up to be the year of the sandwich.  The first few months of the year were relatively calm before a 14 year-old took an unsettling bite of an Arby's sandwich this past May.  Ryan Hart of Jackson, Michigan bit into something rubbery and tough to chew in his roast beef sandwich.  Hart must have an unusually curious nature, because most people place their orders at Arby's fully expecting at least one rubbery bite of unknown origin.  For the sake of his peace of mind, it's too bad he was so curious...

Hart pulled the foreign object from his mouth, revealing part of a human finger that his mother estimated was about a quarter inch thick and an inch long.  Police investigated his fleshy find and learned that a worker accidentally cut off part of her finger in a meat slicer, and the rest of the world-class Arby's team continued serving food before they noticed what had happened.  The kid was prescribed some medication and had his blood tested.  A friend of the family who was present for the digity-delight swore off fast food for life, eloquently stating, "We don’t eat fast food no more."  Despite the unpleasant surprise in his meal, Ryan Hart gave his Arby's Roast Beef sandwich one partial thumb up.

Two months later, sandwiches sprung up in the news again.  Just this morning, the news covered the story of a man on a Delta Airlines plane headed from Amsterdam to Minneapolis whose in-flight turkey sandwich fought back.  While taking the second bite of his sandwich, James Tonges got poked in the top of the mouth by a needle.  (Note the irony of a man whose last name very closely resembles "tongue" getting poked in the mouth.)  You'd expect this kind of thing in coach, but the most surprising part is that Tonues was served his stabby sandwich in elite business class!

"Needles" to say, Tongues wasn't pleased with his violent meal, and he's now taking anti-HIV medication as a precaution while medical experts test the needle.  This appears to be more than just an isolated accident--a total of six needles were found in sandwiches on planes leaving Amsterdam headed for the U.S. on Sunday.  The F.B.I. is all over the case, working to determine who's behind this.  Could it be a grossly undereducated food service employee who horribly misread a turkey sandwich recipe?  Maybe it's the act of a terrorist who's trying to destroy freedom and capitalism by unraveling American's previously unwaving faith in airline food.  They really know where to hit us where it hurts...

I guess "potential stabbing" now joins "horrendous taste" and "exhorbitant price" on the list of reasons not to eat airline food.  Worse yet, when Tonges reported the incident to Delta flight attendants, they charged him a $15 extraction fee to remove the needle from his mouth.

Where do we go from here?  The simple sandwich always seemed like a safe, comfortable meal option.  I don't know about you, but I'm going to think twice before I slot anything between two slices of bread.  Between Arby's and Delta, I guess there's still a slimmer of hope that these freaky incidents remain isolated to the lowest tier of the sandwich hierarchy.  Chew carefully, my friends...

Here are some links to the stories:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/05/17/finger-arbys-sandwich_n_1524129.html
 
http://abcnews.go.com/Blotter/needles-found-sandwiches-delta-flights/story?id=16790585#.UAYR5vVdDam

Makin' Bacon

I have a whole group of blog posts labeled "Random," and it's really a perfect catch-all for the weird, uncatogorizble things I end up writing about.  And this post fits the bill perfectly--what could be more random that a weekend post about the merits of bacon in all of its unusual forms?  It's an odd post, that's for sure...but why not?  I haven't mentioned bacon since the great Jack in the Box post in early March.  So I'd say this was long overdue.

Two bacon references in the news over the past few weeks got my mind wandering in the direction of this delicious topic.  First, I saw a brief clip of a restaurant in Anaheim Hills, California that was serving a different kind of burger.  Everyone knows that adding bacon to a hamburger makes it better...by simple extrapolation, a burger made entirely out of bacon is absolute perfection.  The brief clip I saw didn't mention the name of the restaurant, but I had to find out more.

A little searching revealed that the inventor of this slab of awesomeness is a restaurant called Slater's 50/50, which has locations in Anaheim, Huntington Beach, and San Diego.  The "50/50" part of the restaurant's name refers to its flagship burger, which is a half-and-half blend of ground beef and ground bacon.  That's all well and good, but a half-bacon burger was rather disappointing after the rumblings I'd heard about a 100% bacon burger.  If I had to quantify the disappointment, I'd say it was approximately 50% as exciting as the real deal.

Fortunately, my fantasies were restored after some additional searching.  During the month of July, in a meaty, celebratory nod to patriotism and freedom, Slater's is featuring a special 'Merica Burger (for those of you who don't read so good, that's short for America).  And they did just about everything they could to avoid diluting the bacon-y goodness on this one--the patty is 100% bacon and comes topped with bacon-cheddar cheese, thick-cut bacon strips, and special "bacon island" dressing.  There's also an egg and a bun involved, which seem strangely out of place.

I must say, Slater's has their act together in the bacon department.  I'm not sure how Jack in the Box gained so much attention with their milkshake, because Slater's has been slinging bacon up and down their menu for years, from appetizers to desserts.  The appetizer section offers Bacon Mac 'N Cheese, main courses include the famous 50/50 burger and turkey bacon chili, and customers can round of their meals with a bacon milkshake or a bacon brownie.

As if I needed another reason to visit California.  The 'Merica is only available during the month of July, and the real tragedy is that I passed through San Diego, Anaheim, and Huntington Beach just last month!  If only I'd known about this, I would have changed the timing of my vacation.  Looks like I have about two weeks left to make things right in the world...

My other recent bacon encounter was a far less appetizing prospect that I also heard about on TV.  A story mentioned that someone had recently invented a squeezable bacon paste.  As awful as this sounds, I still had to find out more.  Could anyone really be lazy enough to consider chewing real bacon a cumbersome chore?  But this bacon paste still has me puzzled, because the story I heard made it sound as if this stuff just hit the market.  Yet I found plenty of squeezable bacon products.  This one is a Swedish-based product in what appears to be a ketchup bottle:

And the stuff that comes out looks like it contains almost as much plastic as the bottle itself:

And this yogurt-looking tub of mystery meat doesn't exactly whet my appetite:

Despite all of my searching, I still couldn't find a single story about any new type of squeezable bacon paste that came out in the past few months.  Hoax?  Parody?  Someone's wishful, imaginative thinking?  Who knows...but the world has already witnessed similar products, and I can't say that we're better off for having seen them.  If this bacon paste does exist, I just hope it's another foreign invention.  With Slater's effort, I'm genuinely proud to be an American...and I can only assume that the Swedish population is feeling more nauseous than patriotic after Squeez Bacon.

Here are some links to stories about Slater's and the 'Merica...including a post by the "Hamblogger"...what a great name for a blog.  I'd post some links to Squeez Bacon, but no one wants to see that.

http://thehamblogger.com/2899/slaters-5050-anaheim-hills-ca/

http://eater.com/archives/2012/07/06/slaters-5050-serves-a-100-bacon-burger-tops-it-with-bacon-cheese-bacon-dressing-bacon.php

A Rewarding Addiction

They say that there's a fine line between handy and harbinger of doom.  I guess I don't really know who they are or if they've actually ever said that, but that's been my personal observation.  Take, for example, this little contraption that I spotted in the cereal aisle on a recent trip to the grocery store:

What you see here is an official Kellogg's-branded Pop Tarts carrying case.  The craftsmanship and attention to detail is astounding.  Aside from the attractive logo in the center of the case, you'll notice that the outside of this durable plastic carry-all is fashioned in true Pop-Tarts style, complete with faux-frosting and sprinkles on both sides.  The container is custom-designed to safely and snugly transport two standard issue Pop-Tarts without fear of breakage or crumbling.

At first glance, this seems like a potentially practical little invention for the Pop-Tart-loving breakfast crowd--that's where the handy comes in.  But when it comes right down do it, I've gotta believe that anyone serious enough about Pop-Tarts to require an official carrying case is on the fast track to a major problem...hence the harbinger of doom scenario.

Don't get me wrong; Pop-Tarts can be a tasty treat, and by no means did childhood pass me by without me eating my fair share of the world's foremost toaster pastry.  Back in my day, I was partial to the simple-but-elegant Frosted Chocolate Fudge Pop-Tart.  I haven't had one in years, but I've noticed that the Pop-Tarts brand has been stricken with a bad case of flavor proliferation since the heyday of my youth.

I can understand the classics like Blueberry and Strawberry, but kids these days face an impossible array of crazy choices.  Guava Mango? Dulce de Leche? Vanilla I-Scream Cone?  Kellogg's is really testing the limits of artificial flavoring here.  Who knows what's next...

But I digress...back to the carrying case.  If you're so passionate about your Pap-Tarts that pastry breakage is a leading cause of stress if you're life, that's a serious sign that you have a problem.  Similarly, if you're so desperate for your morning Pop-Tart fix that you're packing them on business trips in a monogrammed case, trouble is on the horizon. That simple plastic holster tells the world that you're a hard-core fanatic...a person who knows deep down that just because breakfast is the most important meal of the day doesn't mean that it has to be the healthiest...a person who firmly believes that Low Fat Pop-Tarts are a crime against humanity. 


Pop-Tarts have their place, but let's face it: there aren't the healthiest breakfast option.  The official Pop-Tart carry-all is to toaster pastry junkies what the flask is to alcoholics. And once you get started on the tarts, it's tough to stop.  First, you're buying the standard 8-count boxes...next, you've worked your way up to a 12-pack a day.  Before you know it, you're buying the 36-pack, marked-for-resale case from Sam's Club. 

But you're not interested in reselling, are you?  Before long, you're writing Kellogg's desperate letters every day, begging them to create an offcial Pop-Tarts suitcase to support your growing habit.  By the time you're dragging Pop-Tarts luggage with you everywhere you go, it's hard to remember the day when you first eyed that innocent, two-tart carrying case hanging in the cereal aisle.

It's a serious problem, indeed, but at recently as two years ago, Kellogg's encouraged its loyal addicts with an official rewards program.  Specially marked packages included unique codes that tart-lovers could enter online, presenting them with the opportunity to win fabulous prizes including, but not limited to: music downloads, movie tickets, photo prints, magazine subscriptions, or, best of all...more Pop-Tarts (it's a vicious cycle, I know).  Interestingly, the ultimate Pop-Tarts reward is not pictured anywhere in the official program guidelines, and it doesn't require a single point to redeem: the expanding waistline.

But don't despair; where there's an addiction, there's someone waiting with a twelve-step program to help sufferers kick the habit.  I don't know what a Pop-Tarts recovery program looks like, but I can only assume that the journey begins by weaning the addict off of actual Pop-Tarts, perhaps transitioning them to an undesirable flavor of a lesser, off-brand toaster pastry:

From there, the addict graduates to eating sugared white bread, then sugared whole wheat bread, and eventually--with a few relapses sprinkled in for good measure--regular, plain, unsweetened, whole wheat bread.  Throw in some healthy doses of prayer, personal inventory, and apology, and before you know it, you've got a fully-functional member of society who's put the Pop-Tarts case on the shelf for good.

So before you pick up that attractive toaster holster, give it a second thought.  It's a slippery and delicious slope...

The King Is Dead!

Bad news from Mars: Earthlings are a bunch of fatties.  Mars, the candy company that makes delicious treats like M&Ms, Skittles, Snickers, Twix, and countless other delights, somehow came to the conclusion that it should take responsibility for Americans' bad eating habits.  The first step down this dreadful path started five years ago, when Mars committed to marketing its products more responsibly.

In 2007, this meant that Mars wouldn't advertise on any TV programs where more than a quarter of the audience was expected to be under the age of twelve.  This didn't faze me in the least; I couldn't care less when--or if--candy commercials show up on TV.  With my fancy VCR machine, I fast forward right through those commericals anyway.  But now Mars has gone too far...

An impressive menu with a bleak future...

Just after Valentine's Day this year, Mars announced that it's making an effort to improve the health profile of its chocolate products.  I rarely eat candy bars, but I'm not happy about this at all. Chocolate products aren't even supposed to have a health profile, let a alone an improved health profile. This concept simply defies the laws of nature.  By the end of 2013, Mars will no longer produce any chocolate product that contains more than 250 calories.  One of the casualties in this senseless war is an American legend--the King Size Snickers bar:

Stock up while you can--there are only nineteen glorious months remaining before this 540-calorie titan is laid to rest.  Even the standard-issue Snickers bar takes a hit with Mars' new initiative, shrinking in size to cut a few calories from its normal 280 total.  I have a sneaking suspicion that somewhere in the midst of all this discontinuing and size-changing, Mars will be taking a semi-invisible price increase.  As the size goes down, the price either won't budge, or it will decrease by a lesser amount than the size...it's the oldest trick in the food manufacturer playbook.

But according to Mars, it's all about portion control.  Some spokesman spouted off this useless tidbit: "Mars chocolate products should be enjoyed in moderation as part of a healthy and well-balanced lifestyle."  It's no secret that a lot of people eat too much, but there's just one little problem in Mars' strategy: what prevents people from buying two of the smaller bars?

As I pondered this question, I came across an article that explained what's replacing the outbound king.  And, believe it or not, Mars is actually making it easier to buy two slightly smaller bars.  I'm glad this thing doesn't have the word "King" anywhere on the packaging, because it's certainly not worthy of royal status:

This is the new Snickers 2toGo candy bar, and inside the wrapper sit two 220-calorie bars.  To encourage portion control, the package is resealable so candy lovers can save one for later.  My bold prediction: witnessing someone reseal the package on the 2toGo will be as frequent an occurrence as watching the Chicago Cubs win the World Series.  The act of opening a candy bar wrapper, eating everything inside, and throwing away the wrapper is far to ingrained in the subconscious of America to end here.

What you're looking at above is a new version of the king that's a pale reflection of his former self.  I suppose Mars is technically correct--people will eat that second bar later...it's just that in this case, later means immediately after the first bar.

Whether Mars' new health kick is nothing more than a price increase in disguise or it's motivated by genuine concern about America's collective waistline, the shrinking candy bar is cause for alarm.  When the current plan doesn't work, the only option is to continue shrinking the bar.  Decades from now, the "King Size" bar will be what is today known as the "Fun Size" bar.  (For the record, I've never understood what's fun about a bar that's gone in one bite and does nothing but taunt and tease my taste buds.)  And, of course, this future bar will have a tiny, resealable wrapper to encourage portion control.

The fat children of the future will have to visit the Smithsonian to see an exhibit on the giant King Size Snickers of the good old days.  So, like a said before, load your pantry with the real King Size Snickers while it's still around, because the clock is ticking.  And while you're at it, load up on shares of Hershey's stock.  Once Mars puts this ill-fated plan into action, the American people will vote with their wallets, and I'm predicting a landslide victory for a new leader in the chocolate kingdom:

For the sad eulogy of the King Size Snickers, check out these links:
http://www.reuters.com/article/2012/02/16/us-snickers-twix-diet-idUSTRE81F02C20120216
 
http://money.cnn.com/2012/02/17/news/companies/snickers_calories/index.htm

The Flavor Rodeo Of Rodizio

As Memorial Day weekend comes to a close, I'm thankful that yesterday involved plenty of physical activity, because it was a much-needed offset to Saturday's calorie-intensive festivities.  The day's feeding frenzy began in the early afternoon at the recently-opened Rodizio Grill.

Rodizio is a Brazilian steakhouse much like Fogo de Chao, with the dual advantages of a non-downtown location and cheaper prices.  At a mere $20 for a lunch of unlimited anything-you-can-imagine, you can't go wrong.  Our table's green "bring me more food" indicator was in its full upright and locked position for a solid hour.  (Green side up means more food, red side up tells the meat ninjas to ignore the table, and a sideways indicator means that you've surrendered like a weak Frenchman):

Despite a relatively sparse lunch crowd, the meat ninjas weren't giving our table the attention I felt it deserved early in the meal, but I took a slow and steady approach and didn't leave until I'd eaten so much that the owners will surely ban me for life or seriously reconsider their pricing strategy.  The meat ninjas will be passing down the legend of "Bottomless John" for generations.  The nickname was born not only out of my late-meal decision to remove my pants due to eating-induced waistline discomfort, but also out of my unquenchable appetite.

 
Comparing Rodizio to Fogo, one mildly disappointing difference was the notable absence of bacon from Rodizio's salad bar, but I'm willing to forgive the oversight because of the delicious yucca dish and the amazing sausage/black bean mixture.  I haven't left a restaurant so delightfully uncomfortable in many, many years.  I don't know if heaven exists, but if it does, I imagine it's a place where calories don't exist, stomach space is unlimited, and all food comes wrapped in bacon, including bacon itself.

 Don't worry, every plate was licked clean before I was done.

After a painful ride home and an "eventful" trip to the bathroom, I spent a half hour on the floor, sleeping my way out of a protein-induced coma.  But in short order I felt surprisingly well and immediately got to work, drawing up blueprints and whittling my own special food indicator that will be dipped entirely in green paint and will be spherical in shape, making it impossible to lay on its side--I'm no quitter.

As if the day hadn't already involved plenty of eating, Saturday evening marked the early celebration of my grandma's 80th birthday.  The menu consisted of homemade vanilla ice cream with all kinds of sweet, sweet mix-ins:

Normally, I'm a model of discipline and self-control, but 80th birthdays are a rare occurrence and a major milestone.  I figured it would be disrespectful and downright rude to not fully participate in the festivities, so I grudgingly took one for the team downed 3+ servings of ample proportions.  But keep in mind, I did this strictly out of love and respect my grandmother--I received no personal satisfaction whatsoever from this delicious event.

Did I mention that Saturday was a calorie-intensive day?  It's okay, it'll all even out as long as I don't eat anything until Thursday.  Plus I burned through a fair amount of calories yesterday as I hiked and sweated out bacon and Oreo frosting.  It was a great weekend, and more good news is on the horizon: I have a going-away lunch for one of my coworkers in less than a month at none other than Rodizio Grill!  My only change in strategy will be to wear loose-fitting, highly-elastic sweat pants instead of jeans.  And, or course, I'll be bringing my homemade food indicator.

The King Of Crust

When it comes to innovation in the pizza industry, Pizza Hut always tries to push the creative envelope crust-first.  Sure, you'll occasionally see Pizza Hut, Domino's, or Papa John's experiment with some new wild and crazy topping--I remember when pineapple on a pizza was a scandalous revelation.  But tinkering with the crust seems like a logical choice; it's the pizza's greatest weakness, serving as little more than a convenient handle for people to grasp as they stuff their faces.  The crust is often relegated to the garbage can, discarded by pizza fanatics who refuse to waste precious stomach space as they focus on the superior meats and cheeses covering that prized real estate trapped within the confines of that bready halo.

I'm no pizza historian, but I think it all started when someone at Pizza Hut came to the conclusion that cheese needn't be caged mid-pie and created the phenomenon that would later become known as Stuffed Crust pizza:

At some point thereafter, a Pizza Hut scientist hypothesized that perhaps pizza didn't need a handle at all, turning every last inch of pizza into a majestic canvas decorated with the finest toppings, daring us to go to "The Edge:"

Further crust-based innovation brought some new "twists" on the norm (quite literally), with Twisted Crust pizza--a braided combination cheesestick/breadstick baked around the pizza.  It was around this time, in the mid-2000s, that crust took its first steps toward becoming an entirely separate meal surrounding an ordinary pizza:

Not unlike the Twisted Crust, Pizza Hut's current crust de jour is a combination breadstick and cheesestick, only in bite-size form: Cheesy Bites.  While I like the idea, at first glance this dangerous dish vaguely resembles a saw blade:

Interestingly enough, it's in the foreign markets where Pizza Hut has taken the idea of surrounding a pizza with a second meal and really run with it.  The strangest part of all is that Pizza Hut is flaunting its pizza ingenuity around the globe using two American staples: hot dogs and hamburgers!  These are two classic examples that I embarrassingly missed in my previous post on crazy foreign foods.

The British, long known for bland food and bad teeth, have the privilege of eating Pizza Hut UK's Hot Dog Stuffed Crust pizza, which makes regular stuffed crust pizza look like an amateur recipe cooked up in a child's Easy Bake oven.

Pizza Hut struck yet again in the United Arab Emirates with the craziest crust the world has seen to date.  This dish is the undisputed king, and it's got the crown to prove it:



Why the English language dominates in this Middle Eastern commercial, I have no idea...but as you can see, the Crown Crust Cheeseburger Pizza is an odd combination salad/pizza surrounded by grilled mini cheeseburgers.  If there was any doubt that Americans are chomping at the bit go gobble up such a royal delicacy, a man named Jon Gabrus wiped those out by traveling nearly 7,000 miles and 13 hours from New York to Dubai to dine with the king of pizza.

Personally, I would have satisfied the craving on a tighter budget with twin trips to White Castle and Pizza Hut, but I guess sometimes you just gotta have the real deal. Though, given the circumstances, I would have done the exact same thing as Gabrus--the College Humor website funded his journey, asking him to post a video of his experience for the site's Wanderlunch section.

These recent developments in the world of pizza have left me all kinds of confused.  Why not America?!  And I find myself anxiously wondering what's next--which entree will next surround the international pizza of tomorrow?  And despite Pizza Hut's best efforts, why don't these crust-based inventions ever seem to gain permanent traction and stick around longer than a few fleeting months?

I think the time has come to shift innovation back to the middle of the pie.  Not to brag, but my family has a bit of experience in this arena:

What you see above is a bold Thanksgiving experiment, circa 2009.  We shunned the standard turkey feast and toyed with a new pizza-based tradition, with a wild variety of unique concoctions.  We didn't entirely turn our backs on the staples of the holiday, however, with Mom whipping up a Thanksgiving-themed pizza complete with turkey, stuffing, and gravy (sadly not pictured here).  The new tradition didn't entirely take hold, but nevertheless, I'm confident that the wave of the pizza future rests inside the crust.

Beware of the BYOP

A Denny's ad found it's way into my email inbox recently, and it got me thinking about some of the classic scams in the restaurant industry.  It's a poorly kept secret that bars give away free salty snacks like peanuts and pretzels to encourage patrons to order more drinks.  The pictures on restaurant menus take full advantage of the zoom functionality on cameras and make every steak, every burger, every entree look like a mountain of food even when those dishes are often closer in size to a toddler's butt cheek.  And any time a restaurant offers any kind of all-you-can-eat meal, they use the oldest trick in the buffet playbook and push the salad and dinner rolls to keep people from filling up on the expensive meats.

Some restaurants really delve into the psychology books when they design a menu.  One article I read explains how restaurants use tricks like choices of portion size, "Dinner for Two" offers, bundling, selective use of pictures for high-margin items, and location of items on the menu to fool people into spending more for dinner.  It sounds like a classic case of over-thinking, but all this analysis must pay off if restaurants devote so much time and attention to the seemingly mundane details of menu design.

Anyway...back to that Denny's email that I mentioned.  Here's the message that showed up in my inbox:

I'm not crazy about breakfast food, and I'm even less excited about pancakes.  But I'll have to admit, the pictures do look rather appetizing--chocolate, nuts, strawberries, whipped cream, blueberries...not bad at all.  Yet this whole "Build Your Own Pancakes" concept is a bad idea of epic proportions.  At this point, it would be easy for my to delve into all the reasons that this is a poor meal choice for the simple fact that this offer requires one to eat at Denny's...and believe me, that's a list that could go on for days.

The idea of a customizable meal might appeal to some, but let me warn you: this is nothing more than a well-disguised restaurant scam.  I most certainly do not want to go anywhere--let alone Denny's--to build my own pancakes.  Perhaps you're familiar with the more common and concise term for "building your own meal": it's called cooking.  And you can do it at home at a significant discount to anything you'll find at a restaurant.  Best of all, if you "build your own meal" in the comfort of your own home, you won't have to mingle with the unseemly clientele and surly staff at Denny's.

Interestingly, despite the fact that Denny's positions itself as "America's diner," I'm fairly certain that the chain stole the concept for this pancake promo from our neighbors to the south--the Mexicans.  You may not have noticed this, but all of the dishes on the menu at a Mexican restaurant are virtually identical to one another. Think about it--you've got cheese, salsa, rice, beans (black or refried), seasoned meat, and a shell or chip of some kind (soft tortilla, taco shell, or a tortilla chip).

If I listed those ingredients and asked you to name the menu item I just described, you could give a seemingly infinite number of correct answers: quesadillas, tacos, enchiladas, burritos, chimichangas, nachos, or a fajitas.  Mexican chefs clearly aren't the most creative bunch in the world.  But I'm not saying that's a bad thing--quite the opposite, in fact.  I love Mexican food, and if you're on to a great concept, I say don't mess with success.

But the last item on that list--the fajita--is a clever little scam that's gone largely unnoticed for centuries.  Fajitas are priced the same as everything else on the menu, but think about what you're really getting.  It's nothing more than a "Build Your Own Soft Shell Taco."  The staff brings out all the ingredients--tortillas, meat, rice, grilled vegetables--and you do all the assembly.  What kind of deal is that?  When I go out to eat, I want someone else to do all the work for me.  At the end of the meal, am I allowed to scale back on the tip because I helped carry the workload?  Absolutely not.

This scam has succeeded so consistently and for so long because Mexican restaurants do an excellent job of selling the sizzle, quite literally.  No other dish turns heads when it comes out of the kitchen like fajitas do.  They're sizzling, steaming, and they're often delivered on their own special tray, with a little container of tortillas.  It's a much bigger spectacle than the unveiling of a soft shell taco, that's for sure.  When the waiter brings out fajitas, you can hear the collective whisper from the other customers, "I think I'll get that!"  But they never continue watching long enough to witness that poor fajita-eater toiling away, assembling their food for the duration of the meal.

It's a brilliant idea, and you can't blame Denny's for trying to Americanize this little trick.  But I'm onto them, and I'm no fool.  Customizable food may appeal to some, but be warned: "Build Your Own" is just a fancy phrase that's masking its evil synonym, cooking.

The Breakfast Affair

I have some exciting news: there's a new woman in my life.  I've been seeing her every day for nearly two weeks.  I think about her when I go to sleep at night, and she's right there with me at the start of every day. I've been eating breakfast with her every morning, and the crazy thing is, I don't even know her first name.

This tale gets even more scandalous: this new lady of mine is married--and she's an older woman.  She's been married at least thirty years, but that hasn't stopped our scandalous love affair.  I won't get into the details, but I'll just say that she's added a certain spice to my life.  Craziest of all?  It was my grandmother who first introduced us!

This special new friend of mine is truly impressive. First of all, she's hardly tough on the eyes, with a slender figure, a hard body, and head of the brightest yellow blond you could ever imagine.  She's the quiet type and loves a good recipe, and she's held impressive positions at several important companies, including Alberto-Culver, Unilever, and now B&G Foods.  I'd say she's my sugar momma, but she's a health nut--she won't go anywhere near salt, let alone touch the sugar.

That's right, it's Mrs. Dash who has shaken me out of my mundane breakfast routine. I can claim with conviction that variety isn't the only spice of life.  Mrs. Dash runs circles around Aunt Jemima and puts Betty Crocker to shame.  For my single friends who are jealous of my new relationship, you can take consolation in the fact that Mrs. Dash has some equally attractive siblings.  Looking for a southwestern fling?  Prefer Italians, or maybe the Caribbeans?  Lucky for you, the Dash family is very a diverse group:

Think this blog post is a little cheesy? Well, so is my breakfast.  A few eggs, a sprinkle of shredded cheese, a rendezvous with Mrs. Dash, and the most important meal of the day has never been the same.


Note: This blog is in no way affiliated with B&G Foods, the owner of the Mrs. Dash brand.  I was, regrettably, not paid a single cent for this shameless promotion of the Mrs. Dash line of seasonings--I'm just a newly converted, die-hard fan.  But if someone from B&G stumbles upon this, I'm certainly not above cashing a giant thank you check...

A Fundamental Shift In Pop Culture

The soft drink industry can be a fickle business, and bold attempts at innovation are often met with rapid failure.  Even the biggest, more powerful companies struggle with this challenge, and Coca-Cola is no exception.  Coke's epic 1985 "New Coke" reformulation is still a textbook case of marketing gone awry.

Give it some thought--can you name the last time a brand new, truly ground-breaking soda flavor hit the market and actually stuck? A decade after New Coke's funeral, the flame that was Surge, another Coke product, burned brightly in the late 90s, then quickly lost its fizz.  After it's launch in 1996, Surge looked like it was making a run at Pepsi's citrus powerhouse, Mountain Dew.  Yet by the end of 2001, Coke had shut down production of canned and bottled Surge, and the final drops of sweet, sweet citrus--in fountain-syrup form--dried up the following year.  The marketing teams at Coke were back to the drawing board...

These days, the soft drinkers of the world don't seem too willing to branch out and try new flavors.  Every "innovative" new Pepsi and Coke product in the stores is some weak variation of Pepsi, Coke, Diet Pepsi, or Diet Coke.  Remember all those Super Bowl ads for Pepsi Max? Regular Pepsi with more caffeine.  Pepsi Throwback?  Regular Pepsi with real sugar.  And don't get me started on all those sad twists on diet soft drinks: Pepsi One, Coke Zero, Dr. Pepper 10...the list goes on and on.  Are those ten calories in Dr. Pepper really going to convince men that it's okay to drink diet soda?  I doubt it...and I still don't understand how a successful product launch begins by aliening half of your customer base. But I work in finance, not marketing...

Day after day at the office, I find myself sitting with coworkers in the cafeteria, listening to one person after the other finish off a can of soda, then complain, "I'm still so parched!  If only I had another half ounce of pop!"  And when it's not the portion size, they start complaining about how much trouble they have holding onto the can!  When will it stop?!

Well, it looks like it ends today. After all the wheel-spinning in the soda industry over the past ten years, I can confidently say that the marketing teams at Coca-Cola have overcome their bad case of bottlers' block and broken the mold with a product they recently sent into the marketplace.  Just today, I heard a radio ad for a new drink that will solve all of my coworkers' problems and more: the 89¢ Coke 12.5oz bottle!  Unnecessary flavor experiments are a thing of the past; let the package size proliferation begin!

Genius!  It's no wonder the big consumer goods companies hire armies of high-priced MBAs to market their products--mere mortals can't some up with ideas like this.  One of the big-shots at Coke offered the following sound-byte for the launch of 12.5oz Coke, which targets convenience-store shoppers: "The new package holds tremendous appeal for traditional gas ‘n go consumers and less frequent in-store shoppers, such as females and white collar professionals.  While the design will capture shoppers’ attention at the cold vault, the comprehensive immediate consumption strategy behind it will captivate operators."

At the risk of sounding like a naive finance guy, I have my own opinions on the prospects for 12.5oz Coca-Cola. The Coke guy went on to talk about the allure and value of the below-a-dollar price point.  Yet gas stations already have that...a 32oz fountain Coke costs ~60¢ at a lot of convenience stores.  Where's the value in paying a little less and getting a lot less?  Good thing people suck at math...maybe the 12.5oz offering is nothing more than a ploy to make the cost-per-ounce that much tougher to calculate by throwing fractional ounces into the mix.

But moving beyond the price, it's important that we don't lose sight of the fact that this is America, and when it comes to vehicles, junk food, and sugary beverages, less is not more.  Bigger is better; it's just simple evolution:

 By the time that kid reaches adulthood, he'll have to cut the roof off his car:

 

When that radio ad sparked my interest in 12.5oz Coke and I went online to learn more, my search turned up a brilliant one-liner on some blogger's Twitter feed: "New Coca Cola 12.5 oz Handheld! Uh, yeah. That's called A CAN OF COKE. Thanks, marketing team."  I'm glad I'm not the only one who has trouble admiring the innovation.  

But if you disagree with me and can't wait to shell out 89¢ for 12.5oz Coke, please be careful.  Read those labels closely, because there are a lot of look-alikes out there, which, coincidentally, also happen to be authentic Coke products.  Don't grab the 20oz bottle, avoid the 16oz bottle, and whatever you do, don't be fooled by the 12oz bottle, or you're going to find yourself in a sad, thirsty search for that last half ounce.

Best of luck to you.  It's a complicated world.