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Dogs have a keen sense of smell, but their sense of taste less developed than humans. This has not stopped dog owners from showering their pets with an array of treats that will tempt even the most discerning gourmand. Our anthropomorphic tendencies have led to the creation of a wide range of dog foods. Here are some of my favorites - a Canine Tasting Menu.
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Salli Vates, food blogging since 2002, offers this delightful tale of refrigerator wantonness.

Photo by CarlyJane

“Congratulations,” Jack slapped him on the back. “What does she look like?”

Frank took a sip of his beer and thought a moment. “Well, she’s really cute. Kind of like a classier Britney Spears, blonde hair, great body.”

“Have you been back to her place yet?” asked Jack.

“Yes,” Frank smiled.

Jack chuckled, and then a quizzical look came over his face. “Frank, when you’ve gone home with a girl you really like, have you ever - snooped around her things, like, to get a better idea of what she’s about? I look in the first drawer; that’s where they usually keep their panties.”

“I look in the fridge,” said Frank.

“The fridge!” Jack exclaimed. “Don’t you know that you can tell much more about a woman by her underwear drawer?” Continue reading →

Krestovich had grown rich through food science - the careful manipulation of flavors that had helped give modern fast food its edge. His greatest triumph had been the Subway sandwich. Vladimir was responsible for the overwhelming odors that drew in the unsuspecting passersby. The sensory manipulation was so powerful that a certain subset of the population was unable to pass a Subway outlet without ordering something. Every time someone ate a sandwich Vladimir earned a nickel.

Yet Krestovich had never tasted that which he had created. He started his day with a carefully blended regimen of carbohydrates, fiber, amino acids and fat. He cared nothing for variety. His assistant Marjorie prepared forty pounds worth of gruel at a time, enough to last Krestovich weeks. He used a repurposed cryofreezer in the back of his laboratory to store the thick paste. In all matters of nutrition and diet he deferred to his colleagues - it was easier for him not to dwell on such things.

Vladimir had even ceased to enjoy his sole dietary indulgence, the 4.5 ounces of vodka he allowed himself each week. It was a holdover from the days he spent drinking fine wine in restaurants and vineyards across the globe. Lately the gentle buzz had only served to remind him of things that once were - the 1970 Chateau Latour or the meal in Provence.

At times he missed those who shared his devotion to food - those he had betrayed. The years had caused his memories to fade somewhat. These were only fleeting memories now; Vladimir no longer had a sense of taste.

***

The laboratory accident that led to the destruction of Vladimir’s taste buds had been the culmination of months of research. He had been experimenting on a process of tasteicular enhancement. The goal was to triple the number of taste buds on the human tongue. It had been a pioneering use of stem cell research.

Experiments in laboratory animals had been promising. Rats exposed to the serum, developed palates so refined that the vermin starved unless served choice cuts of meat. Dogs treated with the drug refused to eat leftovers.

For Krestovich the temptation had been overpowering. On a cold day in December, as he was preparing to celebrate his birthday, with a twenty-five course tasting menu at Per Se, he injected the cells. Vladimir could not have anticipated the effects the drug would have on a human brain. In the span of twenty minutes he experienced tastes that defied belief. But during the fourth course, his taste buds - reeling from over-stimulation - ceased to function. He had not tasted since.

more to come

Courtesy of Don who came across this fine bourbon on a recent trip to Kentucky. The irony, he reports, is that it’s actually good bourbon - bottled privately for the Japanese market.

Don reminds us all to, “beware of imitations - always look for the home boy seal of approval.”

Tonight I ventured out on a horrible escapade, hunting through Manhattan like a dehydrated sojourner in the Sahara. I ripped through the city, stopping off time to time to buy a treat like it was some illegal drug - and yet, it was worse because none of my purchases were illegal and no one was going to arrest me for taking a hit of pizza.

No one cares. Everyone from store clerk to homeless guy is smiling at you - courteous as hell as you order your hot slice. I wanted to say, “STOP ME for GOD’s SAKE! LOOK at what I am doing! LOOK at what I am DOING right now. Aren’t you going to STOP ME??????” But instead, I smile back and hide my contorted grimaces for fear that they will see the real ugly witch in me, boiling and troubling over their pizza. I’m in my own illicit universe, where I’ve handpicked what’s legal and illegal to use. And I, ironically, am the only one responsible.

I wander the streets and temptations lure everywhere in sight. Like a crack-addict, I can’t avoid the lights, the scents, the sounds - everything and everyone is a danger zone. I am my own danger zone. While others have to meet in alleys and look over their shoulders, experiencing the thrill of ‘the escape’ as they’ve broken the law and slipped away from authorities, I can consume my drug in broad day-light and no one gives a $#@%. No one is going to pull me over and ask why I was mutilating myself right there, walking in the middle of the street.

WHY, pizza store clerk, were you so nice to me as I purchased that slice and looked dead into your trusting eyes? “Yes, Miss? How can I help you? Anything else, Miss? What else can we do for you? Is that all, MISS? THANK YOU, MISS!”

It’s only pizza, right? RIGHT?

I’m delighted to introduce Marissa Beck, from time to time you’ll find her delightful contributions to the BlogSoop Blog. Marissa is studying Nutrition at Columbia University here in New York. I met her as an undergrad at Tufts University where she wowed me with her in depth knowledge of all thing gastronomic. Marissa loves food more than anyone I know.