10. Tuna

What did the poor tuna do to deserve being canned or pouched?   It’s bad enough that they are ugly as turds and their plight gets overshadowed by hanging out with the dolphins.  (“Screw the fish!  Save Flipper!”)  No, they have to get chopped into bits, vacuum-packed in some way, and end up in a mystery casserole by misguided people worrying about their Omega-3s.

I think the people responsible have to be Scandinavian.

My scars over canned tuna fish come from my parents.  I knew it would be a sad Friday during Lent when the odor of the open tin would barricade itself through my bedroom door and turn me into a dry heaving waste of flesh.  (Kryptonite was supposed to be canned tuna, but the Catholics put a stop to that.)  Of course, I would refuse to eat the tuna no matter how Mom would doctor it, and I would be accused of “not knowing what ‘good’ is” because I had the will to live.

At least, Mom only made cold tuna salad.  She never subjected me to concoctions involving canned cream of celery soup, cheese food, and egg noodles.  And she certainly didn’t venture into this:

Or bought something that could be a euphemism for a bodily secretion:

Oh yes, please enlarge the photos to show more detail of how you extracted all the taste and goodness out of poor defenseless fish, you twats!

I hate people.

But one positive thing has come from canned tuna.

Jingles have never sounded better, but this is still no excuse to eat fish from a can.






9. Kiszka

Imagine scrapple and blood stuffed into an intestine. You’re feeling the love in this already, aren’t you? Well, check this out…

I am a Slavic mutt, and this is the food of my people. I understand that meat blends like this come from not wasting any part of the pig you slaughtered.  I get that, and I can understand how you have to become creative with what you have in order to survive.  But when you have other options (like Slim Jims), is there any reason to eat this?  Under knife-point maybe?

But then again, there is a certain level of bravery required to consume this that I do not have.  You have to be pretty tough to be able to look at the label, read this:

And put this in your mouth. I know my cowardice is rearing its head big time.

Maybe instead of saying, “Keep Refrigerated,” it should say, “Keep in Quarantine”.

Nevertheless, my bias is enhanced by the esoteric association I make with this sausage-ish concoction, a popular polka song by Frankie Yankovic and His Yanks called “Who Stole the Keeshka?” Have a listen. Go on. You have the morbid curiosity. I know it.

With my accordian-playing grandfather turning in his grave right now, I have to say that polka music is one of the more embarrassing aspects of Slavic-American culture. I mean, is there any question why Slavs (mainly the Poles) got the reputation at one point in U.S. history as being dense?  Two of their own (Walter Dana (music) and Walt Solek (lyrics)) wrote a song about the pain and agony behind the theft of meat mush in a gut with a tune and arrangement that make people lose their fillings.  This was not putting our best foot forward.  Really.  And I don’t care which one of you under the beer tent disagrees, provided you can still make a cohesive argument.

But maybe a little kiszka would help with the hangover.

7. Velveeta Cheese Fudge

No, you did not read the title wrong.

I think this recipe screams of desperation for fudge, pregnancy cravings, or a bar bet, probably all three. I wish I could find the inventor of this recipe, so I could find out for sure.

But maybe some things are better left unknown.

One thing I do know, Paula Deen has helped promote Velveeta Cheese Fudge, including creating a Velveeta Fudge Ball recipe. (Don’t ask.) For those 2 people not from the United States who are reading this, Paula Deen’s celebrity chef schtick is turning on the Southern hospitality and charm to the point where you are convinced she would knife you in your sleep if given the chance.

“I put a special ingredient in just for yeeeewwww!”

Velveeta cheese fudge has been around for a while now, and I knew I finally had to make it myself to find out just how foul it really is. Kraft, the makers of Velveeta, described its relationship to the fudge like this, “Among our loyal customers, this recipe is one of the most requested.”

I am sure it is.

Velveeta Cheese Fudge

3/4 lb. (12 oz.) VELVEETA® or VELVEETA Made With 2% Milk Reduced Fat Pasteurized Prepared Cheese Product, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
1 cup (2 sticks) butter or margarine
6 squares BAKER’S Unsweetened Chocolate
2 Tbsp. light corn syrup
2 pkg. (16 oz. each) powdered sugar (about 8 cups)
1-1/2 cups chopped PLANTERS Pecans
1 tsp. vanilla

Now, I didn’t include the nuts because I am planning on pawning this onto unsuspecting school children today. Secondly, I have an ingredient recommendation. For the chocolate, try not to go out to buy any. Your mother or grandmother probably has some Baker’s chocolate lying around left over from the Nixon administration. Use that for extra foulness.

First, melt the Velveeta, butter, chocolate, and corn syrup together on low heat or nuke it, stirring occasionally.

I'm afraid.

Now I am really scared.

Once the glop has completely melted, gradually add it to 2 lbs of sifted icing sugar while mixing.

I highly recommend an electric mixer for this because it will have a consistency of wet plaster. (I didn’t use my Kitchenaid because I was afraid it was going to reject the mixture as not being worthy, so my Econo-Buy handheld did the trick.)

Can also be used as wood putty.

Pour into a well-greased 9×13 or 9×9 pan and try to smooth the top with a spatula before it comes alive and eats the cat.

Cover and bung it into the fridge for several hours. Try not to think about what you have in there, unless you already have some science experiments going on.

After about 3 hours, you should have something like this, if you use a silicone pan.  I already cut some off at the time I took the picture.  (Had to do some prying to get it out.)

Reader, I ate some.   And the verdict?  Not the worst thing I ever eaten.  Mostly I tasted chocolate and sugar.  The texture was still reminiscent of Velveeta, so it seemed odd in dessert form.  C minus.

So is it still foul?  Absolutely…if only because you can mold it into this:

6. Pop-Tarts

A breakfast you can use to tile roofs…it doesn’t get fouler than that.

Some petroleum by-products are a “good source of 8 vitamins and minerals” too.

I admit, I scarfed down my fair share of frosted brown sugar and cinnamon ones in high school back in the late 80s/early 90s, and I neither encountered nor envied anyone who had the supposedly superior Toaster Strudel.  Let’s face it, Toaster Strudels are frozen, so you can’t eat them out of the box, and Pillsbury makes you do extra work by including the icing packet that you have to squirt on yourself.  It was bad enough that I had to take geometry, let alone add an extra step to an already inconvenient breakfast product.

A bonus to the grab-and-go feature of the Pop-Tart was the fact that you could throw your backpack into a cage with the American Tourister gorilla, and your Pop-Tart would come out unscathed.  If only the U.S. made our cars out of the same material at that time.

Thanks to Dave Barry, we have learned that Pop-Tarts can be used in the progression of science, namely an excuse to set fire to something, as shown here complete with photographic evidence.  No mention of a hypothesis, but my guess that the point of the experiment was to see if the scientists would get numerous website hits because people like shooting flames and/or explosions.  Looks like it was a success.

Pop-Tarts have also become part of a disconcerting Internet meme.

Over 52 million views of an animated cat with a radioactively frosted Pop-Tart body shitting rainbows to the tune of a crappy Japanese pop song.  (Yes, I am aiding and abetting, but hypocrisy does not count when it is your own blog.)  I challenge anyone to watch this video for more than a minute.  If you are able to do so, you are either a small child or have one of your own.

Excuse me while I go laugh at and lament humanity.

5. Artificial Sweeteners

Personally, I am not the biggest artificial sweetener fan. The occasional Coke Zero is just fine by me. Really though, I am not interested in discussing studies about how aspartame turns you into a werewolf or your Aunt Bette. If it gives you a headache and makes your balls swell to the size of a hot air balloon at the same time, please keep this information to yourself.

Foulness-wise, I just love the way artificial sweeteners help warp the thinking of people. There is nothing like the rationalization behind someone telling you that the diet soda makes eating the Big Mac better. It is amusing how people justify doing what they want, if they can create some sort of superstitious balance to counteract the deed.

“Of course, I can eat this whole deep-dish meat-lovers pizza. I’ll just wash it down with a Diet Sprite and take my multivitamin later.”

This is the culinary equivalent of silver crosses and garlic against vampires.

"I only sucked the blood out of 10 truck drivers, 8 housewives, and Bud from the deli. I have enough room for a cup of Sugar-Free Jell-O."


I used to do Weight Watchers online until I became more comfortable with my expanding ass spread. Weight Watchers has a point system that was created by pixies in a dungeon somewhere. In summary, the point value of a food is determined by this special formula involving calories, fat, and fiber.

So, the easiest way to get the point value down on a food is to cut the calories. For a lot of people in the program, the easiest means of doing so is replacing the sugar with artificial sweeteners, so eating that 9-in double-layered German chocolate cake is not so bad because it was made with Equal. People in program still take on this thinking when submitting their recipes to the Weight Watchers website. What’s even better is what they do to foods that would have been tasty if they left the sweeteners out.

My internal monologue would go something like this when I was reading a recipe for applesauce, for example.

“OK, apples. Good thing to have in applesauce. Lemon juice, understandable, OK. Cinnamon, check. Nutmeg, nice addition. Mmm, yummy. A little water and….1/3 cup of Splenda. Splenda. I was with you until you had to add Splenda.”

It seemed like I was only person put off by this addition. C People chimed in on the comment section with statements like, “I’m going to can this and give it out to my WW friends as gifts!” “I could eat this for dessert for the rest of my life!” “Oh, I just made your recipe last night. It was SOOOO good! It tasted like it came right from the jar!”

Artificial sweeteners…the pixie dust that makes all the bad stuff in food go away.

4. Ramen

I am not talking about just plain ramen.  Nothing foul about a simple noodle.  No, I want to discuss what most American college students know…all it takes is a quarter and some boiling water, and you have dinner.

This is my favorite poison to pick in this category.

Hey, and it has 0% trans fat!

Nevertheless, it’s true foulness comes in the packet.

Ooh, shiny object!  It’s so festive like Christmas.  (Squeeeeee!)  Let’s open it and see what Santa brought us!


Well, I don’t know whether to snort this or lick it.  Although, cocaine may be a safer option.

What more can I say that the pictures have already done for me?  Well, I just want to point out something regarding the serving sizes.

Has anyone ever eaten 1/2 a packet of ramen?  Is there someone out there who has said, “Oh no, this stuff is too rich.  I can’t finish it.  Here, let’s share.”? Personally, I cherish every one of the 1240 mg of sodium of this allegedly creamy substance, and I’ll be damned if I let anyone else have any.

So there.

3. Cheez Whiz

Normally, I am not impressed by misspelling in the name of marketing. Cheez, however, provides truth in advertising. It’s sincere. It isn’t passing itself off as some creation made from organic llama milk by passionate artisans wearing fair trade clothing and nattering on about sustainability. No, sir, what you are getting is an approximation of cheese, whether it be a congealed blob or orange powder. And, God bless America, that is the way it should be.

Now the king of all cheezes has to be Cheez Whiz.

Cheeze Whiz has been a part of the US for over 50 years, and there is no danger of production being stopped, especially with its high number of devotees. I am from Philly cheesesteak country, and I vouch that there are plenty of people out there who claim a cheesesteak is not a cheesesteak without some of this slapped on it. These people usually are Philadelphia sports fans too, so there is no end to their fortitude.

Recipes abound using this jar of annatto-colored wonder. In my extensive 2-minute Google search, I discovered how much more it is than a coating for a nacho chip. My favorite has to be the Broccoli Cheez Whiz soup which only consists of broccoli (of course), Cheez Whiz (to be expected), canned cream of celery soup (another candidate for a Foul Food post), and half-and-half (moo). This is the perfect dish for when you want to clear a 44-mile radius with your intestines.

Venerated as it is in certain circles, I also feel for Cheez Whiz. It is usually sequestered off in the grocery store in a hidden part of the dairy section along with its cousin, Velveeta. Like the illegitimate son of a king, powerful and tough enough not to be refrigerated but too much of an outcast to have a prominent position, Cheez Whiz is usually only placed in the cart after the average shopper looks over her shoulder to make sure no one she knows sees her. Truth be told, very few people will admit to liking Cheez Whiz.

So I appeal to all Americans. Go out an buy a jar of Cheez Whiz. Display it at your desk at work. Give it to your mother for Christmas. Send it to your friends overseas, and tell them you are proud to be from a country that produced the world’s first replica food.

It’s the patriotic thing to do.


I just wanted to show that I am doing my part for the Cheez Whiz cause and for you to feel the strength and warmth from the wooden penguins.


Merry Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa/Belated Eid/Festivus/Chinese Food and a Movie Day!

2. Date Bait

Commenting on foul food does not only mean going into the store and mocking the packaging on the shelf or wayward Scandinavians. (Although it does provide entertainment to go up to the display of Triscuit boxes and laugh maniacally at it. Not that I would know. (Whistles and looks up.))

Foul food can be a homecooked creation inspired by life, love, or drug-induced munchies, and love most certainly beckons with this particular cookbook.

Apart from the virtue that this tome is rightly patronizing toward “the younger set”, the recipes are astounding. Let’s look at the ingredient list for a simple salad that doesn’t use complicated words like “champagne”.

Hmm…frozen peaches, lemon jello, lettuce, mayo. Who wouldn’t succumb to the allure of a semi-deity who was capable of making this fine dish? But then again…

Upon closer inspection, I sincerely wonder what this food will do to the poor sap who eats this. Is the arrangement of the jello molds a clue about some odd phallic disease…especially in such close proximity to the nut meats? Is this a subtle commentary about what happens to men after marriage? Maybe the pain won’t be sham after all?

Regardless, Date Bait is the one book I would rescue if my house were burning down, and I cannot believe my dear, sweet husband still wanted to marry me even though I was thoroughly unaware of this written marvel’s divine recipes at the time. I most certainly hope I can make up to him in whatever amount of time we have together, which may be limited if I feed him anything from this.

1. Anything the Scandinavians Do to Fish

Moving from the Northeast to the Midwest forced me to encounter an interesting form of culinary disgust. This photo is from a Wisconsin-based grocery store that feels the need to appease its Nordic clientele by having a whole section devoted to herring.

It’s not the poor herrings’ fault. It’s the people who think smoking it will make it good.

Now, I will happily snarf down the meatballs in IKEA, so this is not to say all cuisine from that part of Northern Europe needs to be sealed off with nuclear waste. However, what they do to fish should quality for prosecution under the Geneva Convention.

For example, I give you lutefisk. For those of you who have wills to live and never encountered this, it is basically whitefish that goes through this elaborate soaking process which extracts half of the protein to create this evil jelly stuff that could potentially come alive and eat your children. That’s not the worst of it though. Part of the process involves soaking the fish in LYE! You know, the stuff that goes into soap that could be FATAL, if ingested.

Evidently, someone (probably named Sven) had a brilliant idea and told his buddy, Bjorn, “Hey, we have this delicious delicate fish to eat. I know. Let’s extract all the nutrition from it and make it caustic!”

Yum!  Look at that!

I wonder if this is the Scandinavian form of fugu.