Thursday, July 24, 2014

Limeade Oreo Review and Rants About Leprechauns

Guys, you know I love Oreos. I've talked about them a time or two on this here blog. I follow the Fat Guys mostly because they love Oreos, and I follow Greg Miller exclusively because he loves Oreos.

These are not Oreos.


I don't know what the fuck they are, but they are not Oreos.

These are what happens when an evil leprechaun brigade breaks into the Oreo factory and starts pooping in the Creme and then mass produces millions of tainted cookies just for laughs.

I am not laughing.


First of all, the Oreo packaging is having some kind of a split personality issue, likely because of its PTSD after the whole evil leprechaun thing. We have a cornea corrupting lime green glass of Kool-Aid on the one side and then Easter-grass-green filling on the other side, which in and of itself is confusing enough, and we haven't even tasted these suckers yet.

I wish I hadn't tasted these suckers at all.

Curse you, evil leprechauns.


When you open the package, the green isn't exactly an appetizing shade. It's more of an Army-man-puke green than a delightful-dish-of-lime-sherbert green.


AND! That's the other thing. Why the hell don't these taste like lime sherbert? I want these to taste like lime sherbert. I needed these to taste like lime sherbert. But nooooo, these aren't going to taste like lime sherbert, these are going to taste like lime Jello doused in lime Pixie Sticks with a sprinkle of citric acid burn on top for good measure. Oh, yeah, and cookie. There's some cookie in there too, but not nearly enough to combat the limey leprechaun evilness inside.


I'm really not sure what to do with my life now. My love of all Oreos (except the ones that mysteriously taste like maple syrup) is one of the defining pillars of my personality. Thanks to these Limeade Oreos, there's a crack in that pillar big enough to swallow the Grand Canyon whole, and somehow I feel like that is not structurally stable enough to support my personality. (By the way, in case you were wondering, the other pillars of my personality are Dirty Jokes, Snuggles, and Cheese.) All I know for certain at this point is that the Evil Leprechaun Brigade must be stopped before they destroy all that is delicious in Snackland. I implore you to do your part in stopping this madness by hiding all your Oreos and telling your friends to be on the lookout for little green men pooping in baked goods.


Until next time, I wish you sweet dreams and non-corrupted Oreos.

Monday, July 21, 2014

Oreo Cream Pie

Pie:


Pie:


And also, pie:


But not just any pie. No, this is Oreo Cream Pie, the greatest of all the pies. Well, okay, maybe not the greatest of all the pies. Maybe, like, the second greatest, because, yaknow, apple. And maybe pumpkin. Because Thanksgiving wouldn't exist without pumpkin pie. So let's say the third greatest of all the pies.

Don't let it's third-place status fool you, though. This pie is delicious. I've been looking forward to it all week. My coworkers were all like, "So, Katie, what are you doing with your Saturday off?" And I was all, "Sitting on my couch. Eating pie." And my coworkers were all, "Who are you, Homer Simpson?" And I was all, "Shut up or I won't share my pie."

And then they shut up. Because nobody messes with this pie.

(Actually, no, not really. They did call me Homer Simpson, but I didn't offer to share my pie. They're not pieworthy. Very few people are pieworthy.)

So how do you make this glorious circle of pieness, you ask? I'll tell you how. You get your ingredients.


And then you squish some of your ingredients.


And then you put your other ingredients in a bowl and squish them together.


And then you add the squishy ingredient into the other squished ingredients.


And then you pour it into an Oreo pie shell and sprinkle leftover squishedness on top.


Then you stick the whole shibang in the freezer for, like, some hours....or however long you can stand to wait before pulling it out and devouring it, which may be considerably less than some hours.


And then you eat it. Potentially all by yourself. Because Oreo Cream Pie is awesome.


Oh, and in case you were wondering, here are the actual directions....

Ingredients:
Approximately 10-ish Oreos
3oz cream cheese
2 tbs sugar
1/2 cup Half-and-Half
8oz Cool Whip
1 Oreo cookie pie shell

What You Do:

1. Whirl maybe, like, sevenish of your Oreos around in a food processor until they're nice and crumbly. You're looking for one full cup of Oreos, so you may have to add or take away (read: eat) based on how accurate my Oreo counting skills are.

2. Squish up your three ounces of cream cheese with the sugar. Do not accidentally use a full 8oz package. That would be bad.

3. Pour the Half-and-Half into the cream cheese and mix.

4. Stir in the Cool Whip.

5. Stir in the Oreo crumbs.

7. Pour into the pie shell.

8. Top with chopped up Oreos. Not crushed Oreos. I may have gotten ahead of myself and crushed up too many Oreos, which I then threw on top of the pie because I figured, hey, they're Oreos, they'll be delicious no matter what. I did not take into consideration the fact that crushed up Oreos kind of look like crap. For a minute or two I considered going back to the store and buying more stuff to make another Oreo pie, but I'm pretty sure the people at the grocery store are about ready to start calling me the Crazy Oreo Chick, so I decided to hold my horses and stick with the crappy-looking pie.

9. Throw the whole thing in the freezer, preferably overnight, preferably right next to some Oreo Klondike bars that aren't nearly as good as Oreo Cream Pie. Remove from freezer approximately 15ish minutes before cutting.


Be sure to share this pie only with pieworthy people. Like me.

Thursday, July 17, 2014

Loaded Doritos from 7-Eleven. Because.

I think I have officially experienced the most American thing to exist, ever.

Loaded Doritos from 7-Eleven.

Box of Loaded Doritos

I need you to fully understand this phenomenon.

It comes from the gas station, which we all know is the best place to buy quality food here in 'Merica.

Loaded Doritos in Box

It's deep fried cheese. Because, cheese.

It's deep fried cheese covered in crushed up chip crumbs.

Inside a Loaded Dorito

Not just any crushed up chip crumbs, but Nacho Cheese Dorito crumbs.

Do you get it yet?

The. Most. American. Food. Ever.

Closeup of 7-Eleven Loaded Dorito Bite

Go on, call up your cardiologist and order a batch of these Loaded Dorito Bites. While we're at it, why not supersize your order with a large fry and beergarita? Because this is America and we can.

Honestly, these things were pretty good. Because, yaknow, cheese. And Doritos. And cheese. They were a little skimpy on overall Doritoness, but other than that, a pretty tasty example of all that fried cheese can be.

Regular Dorito Side-by-Side with Loaded Dorito

These come in packages of four for $2, and other than their blatant lack of Dorito Dust, they're pretty alright.

Fingers Covered in Barely-There Dorito Dust

Tell me, what's the last thing you ate from the gas station? Was it deep fried cheese? Please tell me it was deep fried cheese. I like cheese.

Monday, July 14, 2014

Chipotle Loves Vegetarians: Sofritas Burrito Bowl Review

Dudes, this bag makes me happy.

Chipotle Bag with George Saunders quote about free food

Not just because it's always a good read, but also because it also holds the secrets of the universe and salsa.

Well, okay, maybe not the secrets of the universe, but definitely salsa. Always salsa. Don't even try to go to Chipotle and not get salsa, because that is not okay. (Unless you're going to Chipotle to get guacamole, in which case it's probably okay. I wouldn't know because avocados kind of freak me out a little bit.)

Cup of Fresh Pico De Gallo and a Bag of Chipotle's Earth Shatteringly Delicious Tortilla Chips

Recently Chipotle released a new vegetarian/vegan option they have confusingly titled "Sofritas." I have no freaking idea what "sofritas" means. Based on my extensive first-hand research it might mean "tofu" or it might mean "nuggets of deliciousness." Either way, they're absolutely amazing and you should eat them, like, ASAP.

Chipotle Sofritas Burrito Bowl with Lettuce, Cheese, Fajita Veggies, Brown Rice, and Green Tomatilla Salsa

I have to admit, I went into this whole sofritas thing pretty nervous. I am not a trusting vegetarian, thanks to accidentally consuming some chicken sneakily concealed in a meat-free pasta dish a couple of years ago, so downing my first bite of this "mystery meat" was slightly nerve-wracking. After that, though, it was awesome.

I used to get the all-veggie (and cheese and rice) burrito bowl from Chipotle, which was awesome, but as one can imagine, it can be difficult to get excited about a bowl full of vegetables. Now that the sofritas bowl exists, I can be excited about squished up soybeans! Yay! (I'm pretty sure it's soybeans.....I'm pretty sure it's tofu.....I really hope it's tofu.....)

Chipotle's New Vegan / Vegetarian Sofritas Option Close Up

The sofritas filling has definitely blown me away, and it may have won Chipotle my number-one vegetarian-friendly fast-food-joint award. I feel like I need to do more research before I hand out such an honor. Yes, definitely. Much more research. Three sofritas burritos please!

Chipotle Vegetarian Burrito Bowl, Chips, Pico De Gallo, and Nantucket Nectars Pomegranate Cherry Juice

What about you? Have you tried Chipotle's sofritas? Would you try Chipotle's sofritas even though it's "icky vegetarian food"? What's your favorite thing to get at Chipotle? Talk to me in the comments!

Thursday, July 10, 2014

Embrace Your Inner Redneck with Budweiser's Beergaritas

All across America there are small communities that gladly welcome toilet bowl flower pots, soda bottle bird feeders, and soup can windchimes. They pass their time watching Nascar and yelling at their cousin-brothers to skooch the house back onto the cinderblocks before the next twister comes through. These communities are called trailer parks, and stretching out across the nation you'll find them happily populated by women whose beauty routine consists of throwing some rollers in their hair and lighting a cigarette, men whose Tweetie Bird tattoos span across their enormous hairy bellies, and kids everywhere chasing down squirrels to eat for dinner.

Luckily, Budweiser has given us suburbians and city folk the opportunity to become Trailer Trash too, thanks to their new Beergaritas. Go ahead, take off your bra, black out a tooth, and pop open one of these refreshing redneck beverages.


This fine selection includes not only the classic lime-flavored Beergarita, but also a Straw-ber-rita, a Raz-ber-rita, and a Mang-o-rita.


These are intended to be consumed, in true trailer park fashion, straight from the can with a baby on your hip. If you don't have a baby, try borrowing one from Junior and his gf next door. If you can't find a teenager with a baby, you'll just have to make do with a tube top and some bigass earrings.


If you're trying to trick your classy friends into inadvertently embracing your inner West Virginian ways, pour these over ice and serve them with a slice of lime. Your guests will have no idea they're about to be on Cops for the semi-illegal weed farm out back, and you'll be able to enjoy the steamy summer nights with a Bud Light in hand, just as God intended.


Now, I gotta tell ya, I thought the Mang-o-Rita was as repulsive as flat beer, and I'm fairly confident the Lime-a-Rita was just a regular Bud Light Lime, but luckily the Straw-ber-Rita and Raz-ber-Rita were relatively tolerable. You know, if you like beer in your margaritas.


These just might make you fill up the kiddie pool and soak your toes for a bit while you enjoy the glow of the icicle lights you never bothered to take down. Plus! You can save the multicolored can tabs to make some nifty jewelry for your Mee-Maw. Ain't that somethin!


While we've still got a good six weeks or so before the kiddos head back to the third grade (again), get your mitts on one of these beergaritas, let your confederate flag fly (you racist bastard) and enjoy summer in the trailerhood.




P.S. If your beergarita doesn't look like this by the end of the night, you did it wrong.

Monday, July 7, 2014

Fire Roasted Corn and Sloppy Joe Potato Chips

The other day I was wandering through my backyard corn field, surveying the hail damage, when I caught glimpse of a sliver of foil gleaming in the sun. Stepping closer, I scratched my head. It couldn't be. But there it was. Nestled among the stalks, a bag of Fire Roasted Sweet Corn chips had sprouted.

Fire Roasted Sweet Corn Potato Chips in a Corn Field

I plucked the bag from its place in the garden and battled my way past the pumpkin plants to take it inside. Still as unbelievable as could be, the bag sat seductively on the kitchen counter.

Bag of Fire Roasted Sweet Corn Chips in Garden

I slowly tore it open and inhaled its aroma. The sweetness drew me in even closer.

Fire Roasted Sweet Corn Chips Spilling from Bag

The first taste washed over me with a butter-soaked sweet and salty flavor, finished ever-so-slightly with a dash of pepper.

Herr's Fire Roasted Sweet Corn Flavored Potato Chips Closeup

We happily polished off most of the bag and planted the last chip in hopes of growing another bag of these peculiar snacks.

Fire Roasted Sweet Corn Chip Being Planted in Garden

On an entirely unrelated note, Herr's has recently released a line of summer-inspired potato chips, which includes a Sloppy Joe flavor.

Bag of Herr's Sloppy Joe Chips

They were not as delectable as one would have hoped, lacking that sweet-and-spicy Manwich flavor required for a true sloppy joe experience, but they were alright. I'd say they're very similar to a crinkle-cut barbeque chip.

Herr's Sloppy Joe Potato Chips Spilling from Bag

What chips did you serve up for the Fourth? Did they taste like dirty socks? Let me know in the comments!

Thursday, July 3, 2014

Brand Wars: Sprite vs. Sierra Mist vs. 7UP

In case you don't remember, last year we pitted Pepsi against Coke in the very first Brand War of all time. Pepsi won. Coca-Cola has since called for a rematch and today we will be blindly testing Sprite, Sierra Mist, and 7UP to see which refreshing citrus beverage takes home the gold.


Instead of hemming and hawing (which, by the way, is a term now in my vocabulary, thanks to my new job in West Virginia) I'm just going to jump right in.


There is no difference between Sierra Mist and Sprite. Like, none. At all. Whatsoever. I think if you'd blindfolded me and made me try them both I wouldn't have even known they were different. Not even a little bit.

7UP, on the other hand, was full of all kinds of weirdness. First of all, it doesn't claim to be "lemon-lime soda" like the others. It doesn't claim a citrus flavor or even a fruity finish. It just says it's "crisp" and "refreshing," which is super helpful considering all those sodas on the market that advertise themselves as "flat" and "icky."


We couldn't quite put our finger on what was wrong with 7UP, just that it was gross and that we didn't like it.


Moving on, we polished off a good amount of Sierra Mist and Sprite trying to come up with some grand revelation that would prove a true winner of the beverage game.

There wasn't one.


All I can tell you for sure is that the Sprite bubbles were bigger than the Sierra Mist bubbles, and really, I've never heard of anybody buying soda based on bubble size, so I'm pretty sure that's useless information.


Since there was no apparent winner based on flavor, we turned to nutrition labels to solve our dilemma. As it turns out, Sierra Mist registers lower sodium and lower carbs than Sprite, plus it's made with real sugar. No, seriously, like, REAL sugar. You know, that white sandy stuff we used before we discovered we could squeeze health hazards out of corn and use that to sweeten shit. Despite it's lack of a unique flavor, Sierra Mist obviously wins for its less menacing list of ingredients.


Pepsi: 2, Coke 0.


What's your favorite soft drink?