george bush

Glorious Gastronomical Gluttony

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I love dives. Love them. Hole in the wall, weird decorations, can’t get in there fast enough. The latest:

In case you can’t tell, I am trying for this new sort of New York Times photojournalism feel to the photos. Not sure if I can declare success in that one yet, but I am trying something new. Another photo:

Photo I really like:

Not that special, I admit, but solid.

Because this is a dive, there has to be weird stuff on the menu:

I refuse to believe that Dick “quadruple bypass means nothing” Cheney is acquainted in any way with these vegetable things.

We’re in Maryland, so we gotta have a menu item invoking this person:

She’s fab, by the way, jowls and all.

The menu itself is insane:

Alas, what sangwich did I eat here? (I know “sandwich” is misspelled.)
Sangwich:

And, in the grand tradition of this blog, a half eaten cross section:

Its a crab cake, because we are in Maryland. And what did I wash this down with?:

For some, drink on a dare, equivalent to those candified bugs I just blogged about, but to me, a reminder of being called “bubula” and eating pastrami in NY.

Sangwich verdict time:
Um, I’m underwhelmed in the words of my hero, Michael Kors. Just not impressive. Dives of the world, listen up. Love the decor. Could you focus a bit on the food though?

Glorious Gastronomical Gluttony

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I’ll be the judge of that.

I am, as my faithful fans know, constantly seeking the perfect burger. Some people love fine wines, others dark chocolate. Me, its the humble hamburger, invented when some angry cook smashed a meatball because it wasn’t cooking fast enough and put it in between two pieces of bread so someone could walk and eat at the same time.

This place, Mr. Bartley’s Burger Cottage had me at hello with the menu:

I nearly ordered the Dick Cheney burger, but someone the thought of that man made me lose my appetite.

And then there is this recent addition:

And, the decor, really really really interesting:

Love how Bill is wearing the dress (sorry for the blurriness):

Self explanatory:

Reagan sells cigarettes:

Onto the food. I’ll start with the good:

This is a frappe, which is New England for milkshake. Super sweet and absolutely delicious. Really really good.

And now for the hamburger:

WOW. I waited about a half an hour for my food. This thing finally arrived and I spent five minutes trying to figure out how I was going to eat this thing. I asked for extra bread and they said no. It was a double burger, two giant patties. Good lord. I finally used a knife and fork. Took out the joy of the burger eating. It was just too much. And then there was the name of this thing — the George W. Bush burger. I had to say I wanted George W. Bush. Why oh why?

The burger itself was charred on the outside. I’d give it a 6/10. However, those orange fries next to it, were made of sweet potato and completely divine. I kept eating and eating them.

I think this place is worth another visit. The Bush burger may not have been the best choice, so expect a follow up to this one.

Glorious Gastronomical Gluttony

/ nataliar77 / Leave a comment

I’ll be the judge of that.

I am, as my faithful fans know, constantly seeking the perfect burger. Some people love fine wines, others dark chocolate. Me, its the humble hamburger, invented when some angry cook smashed a meatball because it wasn’t cooking fast enough and put it in between two pieces of bread so someone could walk and eat at the same time.

This place, Mr. Bartley’s Burger Cottage had me at hello with the menu:

I nearly ordered the Dick Cheney burger, but someone the thought of that man made me lose my appetite.

And then there is this recent addition:

And, the decor, really really really interesting:

Love how Bill is wearing the dress (sorry for the blurriness):

Self explanatory:

Reagan sells cigarettes:

Onto the food. I’ll start with the good:

This is a frappe, which is New England for milkshake. Super sweet and absolutely delicious. Really really good.

And now for the hamburger:

WOW. I waited about a half an hour for my food. This thing finally arrived and I spent five minutes trying to figure out how I was going to eat this thing. I asked for extra bread and they said no. It was a double burger, two giant patties. Good lord. I finally used a knife and fork. Took out the joy of the burger eating. It was just too much. And then there was the name of this thing — the George W. Bush burger. I had to say I wanted George W. Bush. Why oh why?

The burger itself was charred on the outside. I’d give it a 6/10. However, those orange fries next to it, were made of sweet potato and completely divine. I kept eating and eating them.

I think this place is worth another visit. The Bush burger may not have been the best choice, so expect a follow up to this one.

Sampling Florida’s culinary delights

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Love how pork is in really small letters here:

And I could wash it down with:

Or, if I wanted to spice things up a bit, I’d could use any of these:

Dimpled chads anyone?:

Well, we are in Florida after all, the reason George “I scraped bird shit off a fighter jet in Texas air national guard to avoid the draft” Bush is the supreme leader of the world.

But this last one, well, as usual, it is the best:

I’ve been searching for this for over five years. I saw it at some restaurant in Virginia forevers ago and unfortunately, didn’t take a picture of it. Now we are reunited and I am now the proud owner of a bottle of this substance. I am truly pathetic. Oh and a close up of the bottle? OK:

Perhaps they should have one called “Cheney’s Breathe?” Just a suggestion.

Hasn’t this woman been through enough in her life?

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She’s been stolen, had acid poured on her, had a rock thrown at her and can currently be seen at the Louvre, behind bullet proof glass. She is truly amazing and when you go and actually see her, she seems alive. I stood there and thought she was about to start waving at us.

There have been many explanations about her smile. My favorite was that she had all her teeth broken and that’s why she looks that way.

And, Marcel Duchamp, he of the personally autographed urinal, used her to create one of his best known and funniest pieces of art:

Not only does she have a mustache now, but L.H.O.O.Q is an abbreviation for a French phrase implying that she is “hot down below.”

But as far as cruelty towards her goes, this I think is the most egregious:

Recognize that disgusting smirk? Yes, she’s been transformed into the man for whom it so hard to put food on his children and someone who is glad that now he knows what he didn’t know when he didn’t know it. I could go on and on, but I won’t. I mean he’ll just mess it up himself, so what is even the point.

Anyway, after being him all day long, no wonder La Gioconda needs one of these: