Monday, January 20, 2014

Blog Reader Appreciation Series Part 14

As many of us are sitting around in our underwear on this third Monday in January, I think that we can all agree: Martin Luther King, Jr. was a great guy.  His courage and compassion still inspires us more than 40 years after his death (and rightly so).

But you know who gets lost in this celebration?  Martin's mother.  I mean, not only did she give birth to one of the most celebrated civil rights activists in history... she had really great timing.  It's like she knew that America would be getting over a nasty holiday hangover mid January, not ready to go back to 5 day workweeks.

So not only did she bless America with a true hero, she did it at the most convenient time possible.  And for that, Alberta (aka Martin's mother), we thank you.

But more than just thank her, we should also learn a lesson from her.  Because sometimes, timing is everything... no matter what you're doing.

So no matter what you need to start timing better, relax... because I've got something here for you.

Take notes from these guys.  Jesus in particular killed it.

Just stop trying because even if you master this, you'll never look as cute doing it as this baby girl.

Baby girl sings Elvis while on a car ride with her 

You should get moving on this one ASAP.  The lives of many Chinese babies are at stake if you don't.

22 Reasons Why Commas Are The Most Important Things In The World

What's there to time?  It's always time for Snickerdoodles.

#1. Snickerdoodle Muffins via Sweet Pea's Kitchen
#2. Snickerdoodle Puppy Chow via Your Cup of Cake
#3. Brown Butter Salted Caramel Snickerdoodles via The Recipe Critic

Well, this is how it's done.

The 30 Tiniest "Boops" Of All Time. This Is Officially My New Favorite Thing.

If you're one of these guys, I guess there's really no need... because they've already mastered the art of perfect timing.

When Sports and TV Graphics Collide: What a Coincidence!

This weekend it snowed again in Chicago, which I was totally psyched about.

If you're wondering why I pretty much only talk about brunch anymore, it's because I'm trying to focus on the positives of this polar wasteland of what was once a vibrant city.  My Sunday Bloody Mary is the sole ray of light shining from the City where Winter Never Ends.

But it's one heck of a light.  Derrick and I (well, primarily I) decided that we were becoming too complacent with our brunch decisions lately so we (read: I) decided that we were going to try a new spot every weekend from now on until we have tried something from every brunch menu in Chicago.  Which should probably occupy us for the next 32 years or so.

This Sunday, we started with the Dry Hop Brewers after it was recommended by a friend.

Part of my new dedication to brunch also involves a more detailed review of our difference venues.  So instead of just showing you the typical Bloody Mary picture, maybe throwing in a fried egg here and there, I'm going to rate our midday meals using an internationally recognized, rigorous grading system: the Celery Scale.

Accordingly, we should cut straight to the chase with the most important part of the meal:

the Bloody Mary

Four Celery Stalks

The Bloody was a no-frills, tomato juice and Worcestershire recipe which I like (there's a reason why this wonderful country was founded on these staple ingredients, after all).  But if you're not going to try wooing me with outlandish garnish or wasabi (both of which I've tried), the Bloody itself has to be great.

This one was good, but it wasn't great.  It was basically the French manicure of the standard brunch: you can't go wrong with it, but you're not winning any creativity contests.

the Food

Five Celery Stalks

In case it wasn't incredibly obvious, I got Beef Pastrami on Griddled Multi-Grain, Wisconsin Swiss, Kraut & Solly’s Russian Horseradish Sauce.

Sometimes I get wary when my meals come out on things other than plates (such as, chalkboards) because I feel like they're trying to distract me from what's on top of the chalkboard.  But there was no need to distract me from this beautiful mound of joy, dripping with fat and love.  And distracted I wasn't for the entire 4.5 seconds it took me to inhale it.

I also tried convincing Derrick that he was a vital member of my blogging staff and accordingly, I needed him to give an in-depth review of his beer and French toast.

Because he didn't just get any beer and French Toast.  He got the locally brewed (locally as in right next to our table) "Pocket Full of Innocence" (a brown ale)...

... and The Captain’s French Toast.  Which, if you're wondering, is: "Fresh Challah bread dipped in a Rum-spiked egg & cream batter, ‘crusted’ in Captain Crunch cereal, & accompanied by Liquid Cheesecake, Blueberries, and warm Bourbon Maple Syrup."

I assured him that my readers love him and would really value his opinion.  After a bit of encouragement, he finally gave me the most honest review I have ever been so fortunate to quote:

"It was the best French toast I have had in Chicago.  I would have given it five stars but it was a little bit too sweet.  It was delicious but now that I've finished four pieces... frankly, I have to poop."

And with that, I have nothing left to say.

Happy Monday if you have off!
Just Monday if you're not.

Want more tea? Have a second cup!
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