More Cool Sh*t in this Amazing Food Town of Ours

This latest edition comes in two parts, so....bear with me!

Whew.

Man, it's been quite the culinary odyssey for me lately. Not only has the Weekly kept me busy but also trying to get this blog here updated. That and having a full time day job and a wife and cat, boy...it's kind of a wonder I get anything done at all. 

Thing is autumn is here and that means the snowbirds are slowly coming back, students have arrived, the weather is (sort of) cooling down and the Tucson food scene is heating up. Lots of events, lots of fun stuff and lots and lots of delicious food to be eaten. 

Outside of the normal specials and seasonal dishes happening at local restaurants, there are several goings-on to keep our rich culinary culture alive letting the rest of the world we are the little desert city that could, does and always will be. 

The two that I am featuring here are a recent block party out on by the GUT collective (Gastronomic Union of Tucson) and a margarita throwdown at the El Conquistador resort where I got chosen to be one of the judges! Neat right? 

See...they keep on trying to make me feel cool. C'mon now. 

Anyway, let's get to it shall we?

We shall!

GUT Block Party

On a hot day, a great turnout

On Sunday October 1st, from 3pm - 6pm, at the corner of Broadway and 5th, the GUT cooperative came together to throw an epic block party.

Why? Because why not!

20 chefs from all over Tucson gathered to slow roast four whole hogs and do what they do best: Feed us, impress us and make us all proud to be a part of this amazing city.

It was really warm that Sunday and the little plot of land was packed with patrons and those running the event. Each corner was set up with a pig roast station and beer vendors sat by their side. I first grabbed a cold IPA from Barrio Brewing, chatted with some friends I ran into then began to make the rounds to sample the goods.

Sorry buddy but you are delicious

My first stop was to Michael Elefante of Mama Louisa's. His hog was done porchetta style, meaning it was stuffed with all sorts of porky goodness - sort of like southern dressing in a turkey but gone full Italian. It was glorious. Crispy skin, the meat was succulent and the stuffing was delicious and savory. He paired it with some tender baby potatoes and a garlicky broccoli rabe. All of it collected together extremely well.

I then scooted over to where Mat Cable from Fresco Pizza (who is also one of the head GUTters) was set up. Mat slow smoked his pig overnight which harnessed a very distinct, very campfire-y flavor to the beast. It sort of reminded me of a luau where they bury the pig under ground and just let it do its thing for a day. Loved it.

Mike Elefante, just one of the 20 chefs involved with this event

More cold beer was to be had from new kids Crooked Tooth and Dillinger, who are straight killing it in the local brew scene. And one of my favorites, Pueblo Vida, was there serving what I think was a saison, which was lovely, and quite malty, and helped as the late summer sun was setting yet still a bit impending.

By 5pm the block party was in full swing and I still had two more pigs to try out.

We are here to eat all of it

Obie from the Mountain Oyster Club cooked his in a special roasting box called a 'Caja China', which is pretty popular right now. Apparently it cuts cook time in half but...whatever. Obie's hog was awesome, really crispy and juicy. Maybe I should front the $500 and get myself one of those BBQ boxes. But then...where would I put it? The wife would kill me if I did.

Last to try was from Gary Hickey, head chef at Charro Steak. This man churned his pig on a spit over mesquite wood for several hours. To me, this was a distinct "Tucson" delivery of the product as it wafted of southwestern distinction and flavor. Good job man.

Good job everybody!

Devon (L) and Mat (R) two of the organizers and founders of GUT

The best part for me was seeing so many new and old friends at the block party. The chefs, of course, but then there was Devon Sanner (another GUT master), Andi from the Daily Star, Jackie and Adam from Foodie, Rita Connolly, Bianca Ortiz, Mark Aubrey and, of course, the man that provided everyone with sausage, Tucson's own master butcher in residence Ben Forbes.

So good and it was so good seeing you all.

And thank you chefs for doing all of us proper.

You all rule!

Mass destruction, Tucson style

* * *

World Margarita Championship

Wait, there are two Ts in my...oh never mind

It's not so much because of this blog but more of because I am the food and beverage writer for the Tucson Weekly that I get invited to judge culinary competitions now. But when I walked into the judges room my name (which was misspelled) was over the title of this here blog so...I got a bit confused. Didn't matter. If they want me to rep my blog I will rep it so hard!

First off, it has become quite clear rather quickly that events such as the World Margarita Championship (which was held in Tucson and hosted bars and restaurants....from Tucson - so I guess they mean our 'little desert world', or something) are kind of haphazard. There is a lot of running around, confusion as to what or who goes where - which is probably how my last name went missing a T.

I had difficulty at the check in table as the volunteers had no clue who I was or where to send me. Once I finally made it in, I was escorted into a room equipped with a long judges table along with a black clothed stand that was in front of a dark scrim. I only recognized one of the other judge's name, Devon Sanner, from the Carriage House. Once we were all there one of the organizers gave us a quick run down on how things would go:

Competitors have 3 minutes to make the drink, serve, inform and take questions. We then jot down on a pad our opinion of the drink, rating it from 1 - 10 on things like aroma, taste, garnish and presentation with an overall impression at the end. So we weren't part of the event at all, we were sequestered away from it; a secret panel of food folk about to get hammered.

Judges getting prepped

I have learned real quick to pace yourself when doing food or drink competitions. With this one we were to sample 20, 20!!!, margaritas from various restaurants and bars across southern Arizona. A lady to our left had a timer so when a competitor was at the presentation table she would say "Time starts now", then the margarita folk would do their thing and then the timer lady would say "One minute" which instills last minute panic for the margarita people and then timer lady would yell "Time!" and then margarita dudes and dudettes would have to stop.

The judges also had a spit bucket if they needed. Blecch. Yeah, if you want pro drinkers with palettes and opinions you would think that they could handle a bit of hooch coming their way.

We don't need no stinkin' spit bucket!

Anyway, before long the first competitor walked in and the judging had officially started.

So good when it hits your lips

Thing is, one of the other judges who I know, Andi Berlin, from the Star, wasn't there yet. So as some margarita man was doing his spiel I was texting her going "Where you be at?" and "Dude, it started." She would text back "On my way" or "Just parked" but the lady who, apparently, was in charge of things had already removed Andi's placard and said "Six judges is fine...I'm fine with this." She was kind of uppity.

Finally Andi shows up, sits next to me and I tell her we're on our third margarita. Then weirdly tense in-charge lady comes up to Andi and was all "It's just not fair, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Damn.

So Andi just split. I would. There will be plenty of other events like this to judge so...whatever.

But still.

Some of them were spicy, others were really sweet

I'd say about a dozen out of the 20 competitors paired their drink with a small entree, so we were getting fed as well. Drinking/sampling 20 margaritas on an empty stomach would be brutal. Kinda fun but...holy crap.

By the 10th contestant my little area on the table was jammed with snack plates filled with all sorts of tasty nibbles. There was a decent amount of tacos alongside bacon wrapped shrimp, meats, cheeses, rice dishes and such. By margarita 15 I was pretty full, food wise, but still wasn't getting really buzzed.

Yum

My strategy was to use the straws they put in front of us, dip it into the drink, plug up the end then extract it before dabbling a bit of drink on my tongue. This way I get to 'taste' the margarita but not really drink it. Even though lately, as I said in my last Homeskillet blog, I've been holding back a bit if not a lot from my usual drinking habits, I still have a mighty tolerance for booze.

By the halftime mark I was feelin' it without really succumbing to the alcohol. If that makes sense.

Although by drink 18 or 19 I realized the judging was coming to an end and I was totally clear headed so I started to sip a bit deeper getting me a bit more buzzed, which was fun.

Hey. I had a ride home. No worries.

Geesh...

The Gourmet Girls gettin' down

The event was held at the El Conquistador resort out in Oro Valley. Luckily my wife always worries about me when I do stuff like this so she drove me to and from. It's a bit of a trek from our place in mid-town Tucson but I got home safe so...thanks She-Ra!

That would be crystalized ginger going in, thank you very much

Once again, there were a lot of friends out there, some competing, some not, but one thing is for sure the ballroom where the public event was being held was wall to wall people. DJs were spinning dance music and drunk people were gyrating uncomfortably to the beat, food and booze was everywhere and everyone seemed to be having a good time.

The judges got a 10 minute break around drink 12 so I had a chance to walk around and take it all in. Tickets were $55 in advance and $70 at the door.

$70?

Yeah, sure, there was a lot of drinks and food to be had but...I wasn't convinced that it was worth the $70 door price. Although if you can afford to stay at the El Conquistador then I'm sure a paltry $70 isn't going to stop you from attending a food and booze festival.

Just saying.

Elote margarita? Muy bueno!

Some of my pals that were competing consisted of Mat Cable from Fresco, Rocco from Rocco's Chicago Pizzaria, Michael Elefante from Mama Louisa's and Chris from Pastiche.

Other contestants ranged from Le Rendezvous (who did a Thai chili margarita), Rigo's (that had a agave nectar one with smoked orange and lime), Trident (which offered a kiwi inspired drink), Tequila Factory out in Casino del Sol (that did this passionflower number and was easily the most stunning looking), Cielos at Lodge on the Desert (who did a Cadillac version)  and one of my favorites of the night, the Gourmet Girls made a prickly pear margarita that was a satin purple color and was really tasty.

Man, this judging thing is tough. Not too sure who I wanted to win.

So lovely I almost don't want to...forget that, let's drink!

By 8pm the judging was done. I was really full, not only from the food, but from the amount of sugar I just took in. My usual drink is just decent vodka and soda or seltzer water over ice. Not a huge fan of sugary fruit drinks. But all of the entries were awesome and I was really glad to be a part of the event held by SAACA (Southern Arizona Arts and Culture Alliance) and Tucson Originals. Thank you guys for inviting me!

I texted She-Ra to say that I was done. So the 15-20 minutes it would take her to get me, I made my way around the grand ballroom to check out the action one last time before I left.

After running into people like chef Ryan Clark, chef Tim Moore of Pastiche, chef Wendy Gauthier of Chef Chic and doing a shot of Limoncello with Rocco, my phone buzzed and my ride had arrived.

Once home, I had one drink to calm the sugar buzz, drank some water, washed up and crashed out. Thankfully I woke up the next day feeling just fine. See, you gotta pace yourself.

Little advice from your old pal Metal Mark.

Can you imagine if I had actually finished all the tequila laced drinks they placed in front of me?

I'd be dead. 

Packed house

I didn't stick around to see who won but Fresco Pizza was the judges pick and I can see why. They did this sort of boba tea style margarita with lil' balls of tequila goodness floating in it. So yummy. And the people's choice went to Tequila Factory because not only was it delicious but was really nice to look at too.

Apparently the announcers were so wasted that they thanked a Mary Whittaker for being one of the judges.

Mary. That's good. Kinda wish I stuck around to hear that one.

Can't wait to be a part of another food and booze competition. Hopefully this amazing journey will never end because I am having way too much fun. As long as I have this blog and still contribute to the Weekly I'm pretty sure my time as a Tucson culinary judge will continue.

I sure hope so.

Cheers!

And the winner is!

Eating, Drinking, All Of It
"Metal" Mark Whittaker
Early October, 2017

Metal Influence:

METALLICA

"Seek & Destroy"

Indian Fry Bread Tacos That Just Might Save Your Soul

Oh man. Where do I start?

Okay, so...if you've been reading my stuff lately it seems that I have been discoursing a bit (alright, kind of a lot) about my transition from California guy to Tucson dude. Especially with food.

Obviously.

The difference being that back in California I was a thick but lithe 170+ pounds where as since moving to the Old Pueblo I have reached the 200 and then some chunk style. Yes, the Sonoran hot dogs. Yes, the Mexican food. Yes, the sandwiches from my favorite delis. Yes...YES!

 Anyway, to add to the ever growing list of why my belly is shaped like a halved beach ball, is the subject at hand here:

The Indian fry bread taco.

This lil' shed was sent from above

Indian fry bread is pretty simple. Its basically leavened bread made with milk, water, salt, flour and baking powder then deep fried. The first time I had it was at the 4th Avenue street fair like the second or third year since moving here. It was good. You know, just another version of a tortilla or naan. But I didn't really pay close attention to the fry bread until I had it in taco form.

Now imagine this: Your usual taco fillings sitting on top or jammed into of a fluffy flattened near donut pastry. Sounds amazing right? Well that's because it is! So when we got word that a little place out in the Barrio Hollywood nook was serving up some of the best Indian tacos in town, we had to see for ourselves if it lived up to the hype.

So simple, so amazing

Sitting right on the corner of St. Mary's and Grande Ave. is a fairly inconspicuous and diminutive food stand calling themselves Manna From Heaven. Having been open for a little more than a year, they have already gathered quite the following for their fry bread tacos, quickly became the darling of a local weekly periodical because of them and their average online ratings are easily in the 5 star range. Impressive.

So on a beautiful April afternoon, the Tucson Homeskillet crew made our way over there and here is what went down...

Lovely blooms on the back patio area

For real, Manna From Heaven is right in the thick of it. Traffic, bustle and the normal goings on in that neck of the 'hood surround the boutique-sized grub hut. The interior is pretty stripped down and, shall we say, cozy, with a few tables and chairs scattered about. A hand-written dry erase board menu rests behind the register and under a flat screen TV, which on this day it was beaming presidential hopeful Ted Cruz and him doing some kind of rally speech or...whatever. A lady in a bright red t-shirt welcomed us and asked what we wanted.

Pretty much one of each, is what we said.

Luckily this was on a Wednesday so they had a fry bread taco lunch special going on. We got the green chili, red chili and regular taco (which is seasoned ground beef) plus three sodas and the whole thing came to less than $20. She also assured us that the tacos were pretty big and hoped that we brought our appetite.

Oh. Oh...we did.

Since the inside space was fairly cramped for the three of us, along with that Ted Cruz dude screaming about...who knows, we opted for the patio which turns out to be everyone else's go to option as far as the internets were concerned.

Like we said, you are on the corner of a busy intersection

The patio was small but really nice. Springtime flowers and cacti popping with color were blithely shooting out of brightly colored planters all over and the few tables out there were comfy and shaded. There is one peculiar matter of dining on their patio I should mention though:

It's pretty noisy.

You have to remember, Manna From Heaven is in the thick of the barrio, so buses stop right there, beeping and blast hissing as they lower themselves to let handicapped riders off. Cars zoom by, most with booming bass lines vibrating the foundation. Or the occasional squabble between two star crossed lovers pushing jam packed shopping carts fill the otherwise tranquil air.

The best part was this one guy who was sitting near the patio area, talking to himself and listening to Metallica's "Ride The Lightning" on a broke down transistor radio. As we sipped our sodas and waited for the food to arrive, the opening strains of 'Fade To Black' flitted along with the other forms of cacophony of the area.

To be quite honest with you, it was all so very perfect.

Old school speed metal, a bag of creff and a thermos full of hooch...don't get no better than that

But then soon enough the tacos arrived and the world grew a little less frantic.

In fact, I think we heard angels sing.

Heavenly, yet sinful

The lady at the register wasn't kidding when she asked if we brought our appetites. These Indian fry bread tacos were big. Like medium pizza size big. Each one was loaded with meat, beans, cheese, lettuce and tomatoes. They looked incredible and smelled fantastic.

So without wasting anymore time, we started cutting up bits of the tacos to survey the flavors of each one.

Gaze into the maw of the Tacopacalypse 

Yep, you heard right: You pretty much need a knife and fork to take one of these suckers down. Picking one up is like trying to wrestle a small puffy meat filled bear to your face. Plus it was all about sharing so we divvied up the goodness and went for it.

First off, the fry bread is dead on. Light and airy but with a good heft; flavorful, not too greasy or chewy. So we knew we were in good hands just from the strata. The beans were hearty and creamy with a good bite and lots of flavor.

The green chili chicken was amazing. Lots of spice and really good texture. Red chili did not disappoint either. Rich and tasty with a distinct kick. The 'taco meat' option was also on point. The lettuce was crispy and fresh, the tomatoes as well. You put all of these components together and what you have is a weighty delectable treat that is easily split between friends.

Manna From Heaven? I couldn't say it better myself.

Tres Amigos

"We get here everyday at 8 am to start prepping," said Rebecca, our server and the nice lady at the register, "so by 11 when we open everything is ready to go.

"Everything here is home made and served fresh. We make the beans everyday, cook and marinate the meat fresh everyday. The fry bread is home made too and because we have only one pan to fry them in sometimes it might take a while to get your taco if we're busy.

"We're really glad people seem to like our food because we love making it and making people happy."

Halfway through, starting to hit the wall

Here's the thing: we all showed up hungry and we are all big eaters. I'd say about halfway through our fry bread taco extravaganza, we began to show signs of wearing down.

These tacos are for real. For the $7 or so you shell out for one, you basically can feed two people. But we didn't want it to end!

The more we ate the more the elements melded together and just became a monumental flourish of bean/meat/cheese/veggie ratio. The fry bread began to soak up the seeping grandeur from the meat and beans, the cheese and veggies began to harmonize with one another, the spices fused and just became one unit of awesome all the while that dude with the crappy radio kept listening to 1980's era Metallica.

"A creeping deeeeeeeeath!"

Magic.

Nope. Cashing out. Sorry. 

Unreal. Actually very real, but so good.

See, if you keep what you do to a pinpoint simplicity, what you are then offering the world is a well honed and composed product that nobody else can contend with. The good folks at Manna From Heaven, that's what they have going on. Stripped down yet each item is made with so much care and attention. This mini mart corner shop of fry bread magnificence deserves your attention and above all your insatiable hunger.

Because believe the three of us that tried to take down the triple taco trial of terrific taste, we basically met our match but were oh too happy to be pinned by the abundant stature of each one.

That's when Rebecca brought out a dessert fry bread.

Huh boy

Even as packed in that we were, of course we had to eat some of the goods here. Hot, thick and drizzled with local honey and sweet powdered sugar, this final piece of the flavor puzzle just threw us over the edge. It was nap time. Or at least time for a digestive whiskey or something. In fact, it was time for both.

To sum up, Manna From Heaven is divine. In such a small space they are able to create some of the best Indian fry bread taco creations I have ever had the privilege to eat. If you're in the Barrio Hollywood area, you need to get in there like today. If you're not even close to that section of town...you need to plan a day trip and make a time of it. The food, the patio, the service, experience of it all, it'll be worth the long bus ride to get there.

And the bus stops right in front of Manna From Heaven! Just be sure to bring your portable hand radio and some old school Metal because that was what made the eating excursion that much more, uh, 'entertaining' for us that day.

God speed.

Now go forth and get yon fry bread tacos courtesy of Manna From Heaven.

Amen.

Now you know, now you gotta go

Camera, Typing and Eating
"Metal" Mark Whittaker
Almost May, 2016

Metal Influence:

METALLICA

"Ride The Lightning"

Fumbling Around Tucson During the Super Bowl

The Super Bowl, for me anyway, always represents the end of a season and the beginning of a new one. Winter, kind of, officially ends when the winner of the game gets handed that oblong silver medal and is showered with multi colored confetti spewing out of plastic canons. The holiday season is long gone, the decorations are put away and all we have to look forward to now is the dreaded pink and muck of Valentine's Day.

Baseball and basketball linger for far too long, hockey is cool but not the biggest American diversion. So the end of football means that we have to wait another seven months till the weather starts to cool off a bit and we can prepare, once again, for the awesome calendar holidays and a sport that all but consumes most sports fans. I myself decided to be a football fan a few years ago and, since then, have wavered in and out with my attention. Some seasons I have fun with it and watch as many games as possible. But some, such as the most recent, I really didn't care about any of it and I would blankly stare at the TV at my local watering hole if a game was on. Just wasn't feeling football in the '15-'16 season. Just didn't care. It happens.

But, for some odd reason, I wanted to try and get into the super bowl this year. Not play in the game silly but make an attempt to give a crap, just one last time, before spring hits and the summer wave of heat and bad television takes precedence. So in order to do so I thought it would be fun to completely immerse myself with super bowl happenings all across Tucson.

The idea was to map out a bunch of neighborhood and sports bars that advertised themselves as a Super Bowl headquarters and restaurants touting food and drink specials to coincide with the sport spectacle, take a bunch of photos, chat about the food and drinks and have a good time. Seems pretty fun right?

Yeah.

It didn't hurt that the night before the game, and my Tucson super bowl trek, Metallica played a free show at the stadium in San Francisco and live streamed it. Now, I have only seen Metallica live twice; the first was their Master of Puppets tour just a few short months before Cliff Burton died in that bus accident and the second was their ...And Justice For All show which was cool but lacked the energy of the days playing with Cliff. Then they released the "Black Album" then I stopped caring and then time passed and, well, here we are.

Thing is, the show they delivered the night before the game was really fun and impressive. They sounded great, seemed to be having a good time, played a lot of old school favorites and I'm sure with the talent and youthful energy of bassist Robert Trujillo have found a new vitality in what they do. So I went to bed that night happy and excited about my adventures the next day.

"Too heavy to play halftime"

The map I created had me starting in my neighborhood (midtown) with some local bars, then winding around various east side locations, back around Speedway and Broadway then ending up on University Avenue with all of the open air locations with huge TVs and possible heaps of screaming fans. For a second I thought about going downtown but...meh. If you know me then you know I don't go downtown much. Let the other food writers cover that territory. I'll cover the rest.

So my first stop was a place right down the street from me, Nancy's Fort Lowell Pub. It doesn't take much for the owner, staff and even a few regulars to bring in a swinging potluck. So I was sure that for the super bowl, they would pull out all the stops.

First stop on the super bowl adventure

I got there a bit early, like 3pm, an hour and a half hours before kickoff, and they were still setting up. In the midst of people bringing in offerings, there was already an impressive stash of brauts, chili, chips, pulled pork and so on. A lot of people I know are a bit weary of going into Nancy's, mainly because of it's location (1st and Ft. Lowell at the dark end of a line of shops) but mostly because this is a real neighborhood bar with real neighborhood patrons. There is absolute no pretension at this place and that is why we love it. An honest drink for an honest price? Yes please. Then throw on top of that the usual pop up of a potluck? Awesome.

It was still pre-game and I had a lot of ground to cover, so I made my way out and onto the next location.

Bartender Patty's beloved Cowboys crockpot filled with slow cooked goodness

Now, some of you may know while others have literally no idea, I am married to the uber bar maven of Old Chicago on Campbell Ave, She-Ra. Have been for a decade now; the reason I moved to Tucson in the first place. One year she was recognized for her homemade hot sauce and mix that goes into their Bloody Mary and won "best of" from local media. Pretty cool.

Well, for the super bowl, Old Chicago was running a special on Bloody Mary's and I decided to check it out even though She-Ra is out of town training new staff in a Texas location.

Me and this place go way back

Here is where super bowls of the past started to come back and haunt me.

For a few years I was the pizza chef and kitchen supervisor at Old Chicago and the minute I stepped foot into the restaurant I remembered that the super bowl was a notoriously slow day. We always overstaffed the kitchen, over prepped for the onslaught of tickets we were preparing to blind us with orders...all of which never came.

Usually by halftime we sent most kitchen guys home and just froze the over prep for later use. No one was ordering Bloody Mary's and in the still eve of a kick off the place was a bit quiet. So I said my hellos, took a photo or two and left.

It's just not the same without She-Ra.

Waiting for the game to start, trying all 110 beers

Third on the list was our usual hangout, Danny's, which had a wing cook off starting at 3. Unfortunately I was a little late seeing as I had already been to two other locations celebrating the big game but was lucky enough to eat a few wings, have my first drink and relax in a comfortable spot before heading back out.

I know, I talk about this place a lot...it's like home away from home

The wings that I did get to sample were delicious. In  fact, since I was too late to be a judge, the wings that I thought should win actually did win. See, this is the kind of forethought and community inclusion that I love about days such as the super bowl and about places such as Danny's. If you're not going to spend game day at home or at a friend's house, why not go to your usual spot and enjoy the day with your adopted bar buddies?

Much like Nancy's, Danny's was filling up and was full of happy customers a good hour before kickoff. Unfortunately, I had a long day ahead so I finished my drink and headed up to my next pinned location.

Amazing BBQ chicken wings as part of the cookoff

Vero Amore is one of my go to restaurants for pizza and has been for quite some time. It is so good, for the most part. Now that Tucson has Pizzaria Bianco and the mobile unit Fiamme Pizza Napoletana, they seem to teeter on good and acceptable lately. But they were advertising themselves as a go to spot for the super bowl, so I parked my car and got there just in time to see and hear GaGa sing the national anthem.

I thought the girl killed it. In the best way possible.

Werk that anthem hunty

When I asked the girl at the host stand what they're specials were, she looked distressed and said she didn't know of any. So she scuttled off, asked one of the chefs and then came back saying there was a rosemary potato pizza special and a gnocchi special.

Were those two items cheaper because they were special? She said no. What about drinks? You have to have a beer or cocktail special for the game, right?

There wasn't any.

Huh.

Looking around, I noticed the place was near empty. Old Chicago at least boasted specials with reduced prices but Vero Amore, advertising super bowl deals, had none. Interesting.

This is where things began to take a dull and fruitless turn.

This image became the norm for the rest of the day

Leaving Vero Amore, I turned right onto Speedway Blvd. and tried my hand at Sir Veza's, the place that boasts that they are the "day drinking headquarters". This place must have something cool going on for the game. Nope. And just like Vero Amore, it was almost empty.

With the game about to begin, I made my way into Trident Grill. Okay, this time the place was packed, but after asking if they had any game day specials, the girls all looked so rushed that I couldn't get a straight answer. Now I didn't take any pictures here because I felt odd, for some odd reason, of taking pictures of dudes staring at big TVs. Same went for Sir Veza's. Why shoot a near empty bar or just a packed bar with folks camping for the game?

So I moved on to what I thought would be my final location, which is the bar and restaurant stretch on University Avenue.

Before I decided to park the car, I made the move to just drive down the street first and see if there was any action. Well, from my vantage point, there was not, or at least not very much. The new kids on the block, Illegal Pete's had some turnout but not enough for me to pull over and start snapping photos. Frog and Firkin had all their TVs going, so did their neighbor No Anchovies, all blaring loud as the game was underway, but the seats were nearly empty. Perhaps I should have just gone to Red's Smokehouse ordered some bomb ribs and called it a day.

Thing is, at that point, I just wanted to go home. Driving around Tucson looking for food and drink awesomeness during the super bowl was my first big (insert fail music here) since restarting the Homeskillet, other than getting turned down by the Salvation Army to cover their big Xmas turkey dinner for the homeless. Oh yeah. Because of who knows why, they wouldn't let me promote and help with their big charity event. Whatever. Until they can support same sex marriage I could give a poo.

Now I know. The super bowl is more of a home gathering, with friends coming over with treats, the BBQ is smoking and filled with burning meat and veggies, ice cold beers in the fridge, you know...American stuff. For some reason I had this idea that Tucson would be out in droves, celebrating, screaming at the TV and cramming as much food and beer into their football loving faces in a public display of fan affection.

Nope.

Here's a tip though: If you don't care at all about the super bowl...the city is yours! For real. All those usual, crammed, hard to get in places? You can just step right in and have the space to yourself. Much like when I lived in San Francisco, during Burning Man the city was an empty shell of what it normally blusters. For one week all of the wait lists and deep cover charges are lifted. So on the next super bowl Sunday, have fun exploring the food and bar scene of your fair southwestern hamlet. Because it is extensive, exciting and growing day by day.

After grabbing some Indian food, I sat in the soft warmth of my own home, streaming the game on the computer, quietly rolling my eyes at each referees call while petting the cat and making a note to do the same next year.

But if I do decide to go out next year...c'mon Tucson. Give us some incentive to do so. Learn from the neighborhood bars and give us a reason to sit and occupy your services for three hours. It's not that hard. Is it?

I hope not.

Anyway....who won?

Camera and Typing
"Metal" Mark Whittaker
Super Bowl Sunday (and Monday), 2016

Metal Influence:

MANOWAR

"Violence and Bloodshed"

Consuming More Garbage Food For Your Pleasure: Wacky Potato Chips and a Sandwich Stuffed with Uninspired Hatred

That's right. The Tucson Homeskillet crew is back in action and this time we ate a crap load of crap. Again. It's what we do. For your entertainment. And to feed our ridiculous cravings for even more ridiculous flavors that the corporate juggernaut keeps sending our way, we went full throttle this time. Four crazy potato chip flavors that only a drugged out Tourettes victim might imply as "tasty" and a sandwich that I know one did create.  I mean...who thinks up stuff like this? The question is, why do they keep doing stuff like this? 

Remember the 90s? Yeah. Well ,back then, due to the incline and demise of the fated "grunge" era, things were all about being extreme. Cartoons were more nutty and extreme, music, of course, was becoming splintered and extreme, but what I noticed most was the flavors, ideas and presentation of food was becoming the buzzword of the moment...extreme! Dips, tacos, hoagies, flan, coffee drinks and all things fast and junk food suddenly went 'extreme'. What did this mean? Not too sure. I was too busy trying to navigate random "dot com" jobs and discovering, well, extreme doom metal. But the label was everywhere. Thing is, when you purchased a bag of extreme Doritos, you were wont to find that it just had more of that infernal yet highly addictive nacho dust sprinkled on every triangle. Big deal? Does adding a tad more mulch on already crap munchables make it extreme? Screw you crazy corporate food wizard, locked in your tower of decadence filled with heavy pharmaceuticals and pots roiling with your infused power of giggling hate and crotch salt! You don't scare us. Not now....not ever. 

That it...until right now now. 

Lately the powers that be have thrust upon the shivering masses a line of potato chips so vile and bizarre that only we of the Tucson Homeskillet stomach pumpage can endure and appreciate...well, that and thousands of others out there that have Tweeted, Instagramed, Snapchatted and all around asked people "Dude, have you tried this?" about such edible nonsense. So we had a taste test recently and here are the results. 

Here's the thing. Because this one went a little long and beyond the stretch of our normal "just one item, like a foul burrito or horrifying pizza", I had to call upon the power of uncle James Hetfield (he's not really my uncle, he's just been around so long and that title has just stuck throughout the years....you understand) and the power of his infamous "YEAHs!" to aid in letting you know how we felt about the products. You get the picture, yeah? 

Okay. Here we go.

For those about to snack, we salute you.

We lined up the bags for all to try and discern with these four new and utterly fantastic/why God why? flavors: Biscuits and Gravy, Reuben Sandwich, Truffle Fries and Gyro. 

If you've kept up at all with what Lays potato chips have been up to, recently they have had 'contests' of who can come up with the craziest flavor profile and the winners will get their harrowing creations somehow made and produced.  Thing is how...HOW can the crazy corporate wizard recreate such flavors as a Reuben sandwich? Or Truffle fries? Truffle fries!? C'mon man. Sure, there are endless memes out there with folks making up their own un-doable flavors such as Benedict Cumberbatch, Tears of my Enemies (extra salty), Virginity and Everybody Forgot My Birthday, but these four bags are filled with straight up mystical science gone freaky pothead and we couldn't wait to actually see, and taste, what they were all about. 

First up, was this one:

Yeah. Let's do this. 

So on the first bite of this particular chip we got a strong sausage flavor and a weird creamy character right away. The follow up was a distinct buttery biscuit note that drove me back to long road trips traveling through the South and stopping in small diners to soak up the previous night's excesses. Strangely enough, I liked this chip. Because of the memory of early morning breakfasts in  small truck stops somewhere in Louisiana, the biscuits and gravy flavor made the top of the list. Some didn't like it...heck some even grimaced and spat when they put the crispy weirdness in their mouth. For me though, I kind of liked the combination of breakfast food meets late night snack while watching an endless parade of "Archer" episodes flavor combo. 

Still, how is this accomplished? How did the flavors of sausage and gravy get followed up by  a homemade biscuit? It freaked me out a little. No. A lot. Still. To this day.

Regardless, it was pretty tasty. 

With that, uncle James gives the biscuits and gravy potato chip a regaling:  

Next, came the Reuben:

As a certified deli fanatic and a worshiper of all things pastrami, I was really curious/horrified about trying this one out. The first bite was subtle; I didn't really get any "meat" taste until a few chews later. But then, ba-jango!, there it was. Not a huge cured deli meat sensation but there was a distinct hook of one. Whoa.

Then the real head scratching moment hit when I began to get hints of thousand island dressing. Holy Diver! How is this done?  Because of the Reuben flavored chip idea, I really wanted to be in the flavor lab to see what torturous combination of dusts, chemicals and fairy dung it took to make this happen. 

The Reuben chips, for me anyway, weren't as good as the Biscuits and Gravy (although most seemed to like this one better but...this is my food website so what I say goes!) but I did like it. 

Good thing I didn't get any twinges of sauerkraut because if you know me, you know how much I hate sauerkraut. Blecch. Like crappy cabbage gone bad from sitting in the toilet too long then you want to throw that junk on my sandwich? Aww, heeeeeeellz no. 

Anyway, with the help of ol' J. Hetfield, the Tucson Homeskillet gives the Reuben chips a hearty:

Third on the list was this business:

Now, I can dig on the notion of just straight truffles, but the addition of fries kinda threw me for a curve. Well, now that I think about it, I suppose the flavor of "truffle" on a potato chip is close enough to fries so... Wait, now I'm confused. Why not just call it truffle? But didn't I already ask that just a second ago? Am I saying this out loud? Jeeze. This has gone nowhere fast.

And what makes this "west coast"? Is this some kind of gang thing or is this chip supposed to induce images of beachfront frolic while afterwards your stuck on the I-10 for an hour when your exit is right there! It's right there! I can see it! Is that it? 

Don't know.

These chips were thicker and had the "wavy" thing going on, meaning they were, well...wavy. Anyway, I popped one in my mouth and crunched down. Immediately I was subjected to a distinct dirt flavor. Not like earthy and "truffle-y" sort of essence, but straight up dirt. Like I had dropped this chip in some soil, sort of brushed it off and then ate it. Right after the dirt came the fries. Sure, I was eating a fried potato product already so the idea of fries might almost come from just the suggestion that it might have fry extract but....no. I got fry flavor full frontal. It was traumatic. First dirt, then fry. Those wily alchemical sorcerers locked in their sick laboratory have somehow created a mess of dried mud followed by America's favorite side dish gone snack chip. At this point, I was sort of getting over it all and I wasn't a big fan of this combo of flavors. 

Because of the dirt notes and soggy fry twinge, uncle James is giving the Truffle Fries chips a shrugging:

And, finally, the last in line was this shuttering number:

(Note: I just noticed I have quoted RJ Dio twice in this piece but am using James Hatfield as my rating avatar. Hmm. It's late and these chemicals are staring to get to me...)

Okay. Gyro huh? So who is this James Wagner that suggested a meat slabbed Mediterranean sandwich for a grand idea of a potato chip? Maybe he is one of the federated necromancers chained to a stove and lab table lined with bubbling beakers who create such malformed snack intentions, high on PCP and watching endless loops of Teletubbies reruns. 

Perhaps. Because after the first bite of this one all I could taste was sour meat. It was pretty gross. Then, just like the first three, there was a subtle second flavor. This one wasn't as bad as fetid spit beef because it had hints of dill and cucumber; a twisted take on tzatziki of sorts. By this stage my mouth was contorting from the artificial roller coaster ride of  flavor devilry and the gyro taste just made me grouchy. Just to be sure, I took a second chip to keep fact that the suckage on this particular idea was clear and present. 

Yup. Balls. It tasted like noxious dead caveman balls. 

So, to salute the craptastic aura of repulsive gyro potato chips, my man James only has this to say:

Are we done here? Are we done with the potato chip taste off? Okay...good.

Wavy does not always equal "good"...

Here's the rub though. Yeah we were done with the four horsemen (Okay...I got a Metallica quote in here, now it sort of makes sense with Hetfield right? Yeah...didn't think so) of the potato chip apocalypse but we still had one more disastrous "food" idea to deal with. 

This time it didn't come in chip form, this one was served between bread and came courtesy of Eegees. 

We here in the 520 know all about Eegees. Its a local chain famous for their delicious icy treats that are a welcome breeze when it gets well into the 100s here. They also serve sandwiches, hot dogs, pretzels and, my personal favorite, loaded crinkle fries. Believe me, much much better than the truffle fries variety noted above. The loaded fries are greasy, drippy, stupid, bad for you but so so good late at night after a bender of 40 oz liquor swiggin' to fuel you up for further punishment and hopefully a nap. 

Not only does Eegees offer up a monthly flavor for their shaved ice refreshments but also a "limited time only" for some of their food items. This time around, they concocted something so ridiculous sounding that the Homeskillet taste testers just had to get a hold of it and see what all the commotion was about.

We give you...the flamin' hot Cheetos chicken sandwich:

Yup. You can just see the middle finger in that sub roll...

Umm...yeah. Why not? A chicken sandwich topped with flamin' hot Cheetos. There has to be something to this right? There has to be an angle. You can't just fill a sandwich full of spicy cheese droppings and call it a "special"? Can you?

What Eegees promises with their "Flamin' Hot Chicken Sub" is this: Chicken breast served between a sub roll, paired with bacon, jalapeno cream cheese, buffalo ranch, your choice of cheese and stuffed with the flamin' hot variety of Cheetos. It sounded so nauseating that we just had to do it. 

Here is what we got:

Note: actual size of terror

Eegees delivered on their promise of chicken, tangy ranch, jalapeno cream cheese, (we picked) provolone and the Cheetos but...the question is why? WHY are flamin' hot Cheetos on this sandwich? The spicy ranch and peppery cream cheese alone was fine, I guess, but to add red hot Cheetos as well? I didn't get it. 

The first bite was like all of the others that followed: it was a chicken sandwich topped with flamin' hot Cheetos. They added nothing, nothing!, to the sandwich other than the fact that the poor thing was rammed tight with frikkin' spicy Cheetos. What, did the Eegees CEO (probably one of those culinary drug slob prestidigitarians I keep mentioning) just approach Jeff, a stoned and zitty cashier, one day and go "Hey man, we need a new idea for a sandwich. Any ideas?" 

At this point, Jeff, who was daydreaming about being the third member of the Insane Clown Posse, just started word vomiting some of his favorite things to "cold munch on" when he is higher than Jesus on planet Helium.

"Uh. Um," he probably drooled. "Chicken. Ranch. Cheese. And, uh...those flamin' hot Cheetos. Yeah. Can I take my break now?"

This sandwich made no sense because it made perfect sense. Not too sure what we were expecting, but when Chester Cheetah takes a big dump on a chicken sandwich after a night of consuming habanero poppers stuffed with demon squirt this is exactly what it tastes like. Mournful, salty, strangely addictive and downright spite loaded, the flamin' hot Cheetos chicken sandwich is lucky to be just a limited time offer. Because if this thing were to be a permanent menu item, Tucson would suddenly explode into a grizzly sea of hate mongering sandwich zombies and begin to shove hot coals up our rectums just so we could "feel something" due to the emotional soul suck that this death hoagie bestowed upon the masses. Just say no here kids!

Thank you Eegees. I'll send you the bill for our therapy and bathroom tissue stock pile that we're gonna need after eating that glob tube of harassment. 

You're welcome.

Like gazing into the depths of Hades if it were sponsored by Frito-Lay...

And so, on that note, which ended on a rather bad one, all we at the Tucson Homeskillet, along with grandpappy Jimmy here, have to say about the Flamin' Hot Chicken sandwich is a simple and expected old school salute:

Cheers!


Camera and Typing
"Metal" Mark Whittaker
Mid August, 2015


Metal Influence
Metallica, "Jump In The Fire"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Ll1-yV8YSw