A Tale of Two Cities

2013 marks my 5 year wedding anniversary and we decided to vacation in Paris and London this summer. This makes for an interesting situation for me. I do not want to spend 10 days eating bread and protein bars. I need to finally break out of this shell I am stuck in so when I travel to Europe I am not just ordering alcohol as meals. If anyone has traveled to these cities I need to know what I cannot miss before I leave each country. Bangers, beans and mash? Escargots? Pot pies? Let me hear it! I need your help.

-FV

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New Food Virgin Challenges!

I am looking for feedback Food Virgin fans.  Not that I am running out of ideas…. I’m not, I swear.  But i would like some ideas on some new challenges.  What should I eat, where should I eat, what should i draw with MS Paint?? I need ideas and challenges people.  I’m like Mike Rowe except I do not have my own TV show.  Here’s a picture of me manning the phones waiting for your ideas. I’m aware I do not have arms in the drawing…

 

 

 

 

Apparently I Don’t Like Stuff

I have just a couple quick hits from the Food Virgin. This week the wife and I went to Sean Patrick’s for dinner. The meal was great and they have amazing French onion soup. I love French onion soup. It only has like 3 ingredients, which is usually a quick way into my heart. Lisa ordered a Reuben sandwich and suggested (told me) I try the sandwich. I tried the sandwich and was asked what I thought it tasted like. I replied it tasted like black licorice. Lisa asked me if I have ever tasted black licorice before. I stand by my statement.
Also, I wanted to post that I did try something else while I was in Virginia. They put pickles on a hamburger I ordered and I did not think to check what was on the burger. I did consume some pickle and I found it cold and disgusting. So in a nutshell, pickles are gross.
This Friday I am going to a Halloween Ball that is open bar and all you can eat. I look forward to imbibing in adult beverages and then eating foods I would never touch in sobriety. Till next week for the results!

FV

Squash-tastic

Ah, the weekly torture session for the Food Virgin. Once again, I abuse my pallet with concoctions dreamed up by beautiful , caring, understanding, yet slightly sadistic wife, in an effort to become more adult-like in limited scenarios. To be honest, I am as immature as they come and I feel like putting on my big boy pants once a week to try some new foods is a step in the right direction. Declarations such as these are met by Lisa with an eye roll, a demure smile and a comment usually along the lines of, “the dog has a more sophisticated pallet than you, dear.” Not to be out done by the great Linkovich Chomofsky, or “Link” for short, I would argue I am not self-recycling like the dog and he will eat anything.

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This week’s challenge comes from a home cooked meal. I must say that Lisa is an excellent cook. I must also say that Lisa hates to cook. Her hatred stems from two points; 1.) She much prefers being waited on and 2.) Her husband is so picky that she essentially has to make two meals whenever she cooks or relegate what she cooks to a very limited series of options. I have been getting better and I try to not hold her back but Lisa could essentially be a vegetarian if I didn’t think vegetables were evil beings sent back in time to make me retch during meals…oh and kill John Connor. (Don’t worry if this one goes over your head. I’m a huge nerd.) So in attempt to be more adult I agree to Lisa requests. This week I have to try roasted acorn squash.

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I know what you are thinking. This is doomed for failure. I admit that I gave this no chance in hell of even being remotely edible. Cue the MSPaint drawing of a pumpkin stabbing me in the back, as I do love Halloween. Maybe next week I will post some pics of this year’s Halloween costume…  The acorn squash was expertly prepared by my loving wife with real butter, brown sugar and real maple syrup and roasted in the oven. I explained to her that I did not want to insult her by puking all over the dining room table and she explained that if I didn’t eat the GD squash she would stab me (Dramatization. May not have actually happened). Lisa also explained that the squash is closely related to a potato and I would marry a potato if it was legal. Thus, I tried the squash.

SQUASHTASTIC!

I admit it. I did enjoy it. It really tasted just like a potato, a sweet potato, but a potato none the less. I didn’t die. I didn’t puke. Most of all, Lisa didn’t stab me. I am going to chalk this up as a big ol’ Food Virgin win!

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Food Virgin-ia

This weekend I had the pleasure of visiting my brother, Doug, who lives in Virginia. Obviously, the most important question on the table was:

Tim: So what do you think of the blog?
Doug: It’s good! Bridget (Doug’s wife) read it too. She said she didn’t know you were that messed up.
Tim: It can’t be that much of a surprise. It runs in the family. Mom won’t eat eggs and you won’t drink milk.
Doug: Touché.

My beautiful and understanding wife did not join me on this trip; she stayed home to watch teenage vampire fiction television. Without her constant prodding, I would not be trying any overly adventurous foods. I should also note the point of my visit. If you haven’t gathered from my earlier blogs, or this is your first visit to my site, I am not a big fan of food. Another item not very high on my list is babies. Not a fan. I’m sure your child is great, but it’s not for me at all. As it is my brotherly duty, and the human thing to do, I journeyed to Virginia to meet my new niece, Nora. She just turned one month old and is the first grandchild in the family. Doug and Bridget are extremely happy. My brother is quite hilarious though. After an entire day of watching him get puked and pooped on and having the baby scream or sleep off and on all day he said, “See it’s not that bad.” Good try Doug, but you will be the only one in our family adding to the namesake.

This may strike you as odd, but I do not really care for chicken wings. I know it is a crime against Buffalo to not like chicken wings, but I never really understood the appeal. I don’t like hot things and I am not crazy about messy things either. However, in an effort to appear normal I joined my brother in ordering some chicken wings at a bar called Legends. If I do eat wings, I usually go with barbeque. However, this was Virginia and I was letting my brother make the choices. We went with Zesty Barbeque and Buffalo Parmesan Garlic.
Result:
Flavorful ENJOYMENT!
I wasn’t overly concerned with the zesty barbeque. I know I can handle barbeque and “zesty” only seems like it could add to something. How could anything bad be referred to as “zesty?” The Buffalo parmesan garlic, however, was met with quite a bit of trepidation on my part. I just kept telling my brain that I have enjoyed all three flavors in the past and that all three combined they could only be better, like Voltron or Power Rangers! Well, it worked. The 7 beers I consumed prior to taste testing may have had something to do with it…

Food Virgin Fail

I had an opportunity this weekend to experience a myriad of new flavors. My friend, Dan, had his 30th birthday party at Falafel Bar and they offered a smorgasbord of new foods to try. As my beautiful and understanding wife, Lisa, was off in New York City doing cultural things, no one was around to twist my arm into acting like an adult. I avoided all kinds of things I could not identify, but maybe you can. There was the sea weed-like paste (baba ghanoush) which I already discovered I am not opposed to, but of course, I did not try again. There were these little things that looked like crushed Oreos, rolled into a ball on top of whipped cream. It was explained to me that Falafel Bar doesn’t offer Oreo balls served with whipped cream and I would be incredibly disappointed if I tried said food with that in mind. They were indeed, falafel, the namesake of the restaurant. I also turned down hunks of meat from an unknown animal source. Oh epic Food Virgin fail, epic fail.

Date Night

This week presented a number of challenges for me. Lisa wanted to go out to dinner, as she was growing increasingly jealous of the fancy pants meals her friends were eating. She made reservations at a restaurant downtown called Bambino. She assured me that her friend and her husband had gone there before and the husband ate a delicious chicken parm sandwich.  I am all about chicken parm as it is just pizza + chicken fingers with a fancy name. The first thing I notice upon arrival: no chicken parm sandwich.  I continue to look at the menu and my horror intensifies.  I see that there are lots of choices, most of which have words I cannot pronounce or accents over the vowels.  Accents equal death in my book. They mean flavor.  I recently hired some scientists to help explain my logic. Here is a chart they provided me:

 

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As you can see, the relationship between me puking on your shoes in disgust is directly related to the amount of flavor in a meal. Meal not even started yet. Tim not in good mood.

Task One: Appetizer

This particular restaurant featured hand-made mozzarella sticks, delicious beautiful mozzarella sticks, again another pizza hybrid. We of course do not order mozzarella sticks, but instead Lisa ordered us arancini.  The conversation went like this:

Waiter: Are you ready to order?

Beautiful Wonderful Loves to Torture Me Wife Lisa: We’ll start with the Arancini.

Tim: Wait Lis, I wanted the mozzarella sticks. It says right in the menu that they are made by angels and are probably the most delicious thing I have ever eaten in my life.

Annoyed Wife Lisa (Still Beautiful): …

Tim: I mean I wanted to try the arancini too.

I will get to the entrees in a minute, but first I wanted to provide some photographic evidence of my skepticism upon the arrival of “my” appetizer choice.

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Result:

Tim Enjoys!

For those that do not know, arancini are little deep fried risotto balls filled with awesomeness, or in this case Italian sausage and summer peas.  They were incredible and they came with a creamy red sauce that was amazing. I truly did not expect this outcome. I am as shocked as you are.