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.

UPDATE

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!

Advertisements

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.

About This Blog

My banter with my co-conspirator in The White Room (3inthewhiteroom.wordpress.com), Jon, about the new DiGiorno Pizza and Cookie combo gave me the inspiration for this blog. Living in the US, we encounter foul food all the time, and I think it would be nice if someone, namely me, would collect and share information about these products and provide the commentary that will make you wonder why I would spend my free time doing something like this.

Now, what do I mean by foul? Foul is more about the content, preparation, and combinations of the food in question. Foul can either be delicious or awful. Foul can be healthful or devoid of nutrition. There is just has to be something strange and humorous about even part of the whole to make me designate the food to be foul.

Now, who am I to be the judge? Well, it’s my blog, so neener, neener, neener. Comments are open, so feel free to disagree, but remember, this is about humor! Ha, ha..that kind of thing. Take from this blog whatever you want, even if you want to print an entry out and wipe your ass with it.

And if you have ideas yourself of what can be foul, please let me know.  You can write me at foulfood@gmail.com.  Send pictures too!  I love ruining people’s meals.