New-Blog-spot

I recently moved my blog from blogspot to my own site, but the RSS hasn't followed. If you have been reading my blog previously, please visit the new location: http://www.mirthmobile.com/brian-food/
And update your RSS Reader.

oh... and I think that the whole Thanksgiving feast is over-rated.

...maybe it's just me.

Chipo... ChipOtel... ChipotE...

A chipotle (also chilpoctle and chilpotle, from the Nahuatl chilpoctli meaning smoked chile) is a dried chile pepper, usually jalapeno, that has been smoked. It is usually found whole in adobo sauce. It's yummy! Spanish is easy to pronounce. For the most part, say all the letters in the order in which they appear: Chi-Pot-le (chi-POTE-lay).
Hint - say it with the gusto of a South American play-by-play soccer announcer and you'll sound like you really know what you're doing.

I went to Taco Bell the other day. The stucco building was festooned with deep red window-clings advertising the lastest in gastronomic bombs the PepsiCoo chain passes off as "Mexican Food" - the Chipotle Grilled Stuffed Burrito. I've been to Mexico and eaten the local culture. It was nothing like a "Chalupa". I've also been to a slough of wonderful family-owned Mexican eateries here in the Grand Rapids Area: El Arriero, El Sol, and Maggies Kitchen stand out in my mind. I feel blessed, as a lover of the slightly spicy dishes served by the multi-generational or recent immigrants from Mexico who may have ridden the waves of migrant work so plentiful here in "America's Salad Bowl". Taco Bell makes something wholely-other-than Mexican food, and as long as I create the intellectual separation between Mexican Food and what they make, I'm happy.

I approache the menu, perched high above the heads of the cashiers, and read carefully, fully intending to make my selection from the 99-cent menu. Marketing got the better of me as the suggestive banners had already worked their magic. Flanking each side of the fluorescentt-back-lit menu were two panels each extolling the virtues of the Chipotle Grilled Stuffed Burrito. To the left, the Chipotle Grilled Stuffed Burrito $2.19 - chicken or steak. To the right, add an enormous Mt. Dew and some stale tortilla chips with a plastic tub of nacho-cheese (a combo-meal) for a bit more. It beckoned.


Sam is a retiree working the cash register at the Taco Bell on Apple Ave. in Muskegon near my office. I don't actually know his name, as whatever appears on his name tag is quickly replaced in my brain by "Sam". I don't know for sure that he's a retiree either, but that's the story I've made up for him and I'm sticking to it.

Sam wore a cookie-duster mustache that made him look like Undersecretary of State for Arms Control and International Security John Bolton (right) and the same glasses he'd purchased in 1951 after the war. Those frames had gone out of style and now come back into style as Sam held a job that provided free food to polish off his golden years. Sam had worked 44 years as an accountant for Worldwide Fishladder and Sons, before he was rewarded with a pink-slip. Mild-mannered Sam was a skilled accountant, a little too-skilled if you know what I mean. The court had not been kind to him in light of the recent Enron and Arthur Anderson scandals, but he was just a pawn and was given fines and community service instead of prison time.

My turn at the counter came and I returned Sam's gravely "Welcome to Taco Bell, may I take your order?" with a calm steady voice.
"May I please have a Chipotle Grilled Stuffed Burrito - Steak."
I never got that far actually.
Partway through the words Chipotle Grilled..., Sam jumped in with an impatient, "You want a Chalupa?"
No thank you, said I, "I would like a Chipotle Grilled Stuffed Burrito". This time my own tongue turned traitor during the "Chipotle" and I had to repeat it again.
"A Chipotle Grilled Stuffed Burrito if you please."
Sam looked dubious.

Then a light, from some far-away training video clicked on as Sam saw me looking forlornly at the sign above his left shoulder.
"You want that?" He asked in his cantakerous manner.
He gestured with his thumb at the combo meal version of the Chipotle Grilled Stuffed Burrito sign nearest.

Thunderstruck, and already amused, I shifted my gaze to the far end of the menu, where the non-combo meal version hung with it's unadulterated price.
"No, actually, I want that one," and I pointed with my left thumb to the other sign.

"Gotcha." Sam said, and rang up the order with a sly wink.

"Order number 158." Sam continued and handed me the receipt and my change.

When the time came, I collected my Chipotle Grilled Stuffed Burrito and returned to the office. The soda cooler held a bottle of cran-grape, and a bottle of water with my name on them.

I really did enjoy that burrito.

...maybe it's just me.

a few fries short of a happy meal

Ahhh the employee lunchroom. Over the past 20 years or so of my "adult" (working) life, I've sat in a few of them. The Calvin College Faculty/Staff cafeteria is one that stands out because it seemed to me you could pile all kinds of things on your plate or only a few celery sticks, and the cash register only fluctuated between $1 and $1.75. Another lunchroom at a nameless company played propaganda videos on a TV that did not have an "off" button. Being the extrovert that I am, I've always found the people more interesting than the cuisine.



Once upon a time I worked in a factory environment. If you've never worked in a factory, I recommend it. The people there are relatively happy, and have the same passion or lack thereof for their work that people in offices do. There are some people who stand out as rather clever, and others are not the sharpest knife in the drawer. It's the same everywhere. One day I told a joke in the lunchroom, and it went like this:

Two guys went to truck driving school, they graduated and got their first job together driving a big-rig. On their first trip out, they had to take a detour and along the way passed a sign that read:
Danger Low Bridge Ahead - 10' 11"
They continued driving until they came to another sign.
Danger Low Bridge Ahead - 10' 11"
They drove on until they came to the bridge itself, it had a sign too, it read:
Danger Low Bridge - 10' 11"
They got out of the truck and measured the height of the trailer at 11' 3".
"What do we do?" one said to the other.
The second young trucker looked around a bit and finally said, "Not a cop in sight, let's go for it!"

This is not the funniest joke in the world. The delivery, was pretty good, but not hilarious. A ripple of laughter passed through the people eating their sandwiches and fast food.

However, one of my coworkers looked puzzled.

After a few moments passed, he looked up at me and said, "There's no way that truck is getting under that bridge!"

That was much funnier than my joke.

maybe it's just me...

Big Fun!

Halloween has come and gone, but the candy leftovers remain.

About 8 kids came around for trick-or-treating, which were fewer than I expected. I talked with some friends who had 50, 100, 150 kids of various ages stopping in to collect their goodies. The big question I heard from people I know was, "what happened to 'Thank you'?"

I think every generation is confused by the one that follows it, and I'm of the age where I'm noticing that more and more. I'm glad to say that the parents, escorting their children where I live, were visibly training their tykes to be polite and say the appropriate things.

I'll tell you what grinds my gears though.
When did this ------------>
become how big "fun" is?

The package is clearly labeled "FunSize", but it's only about 1/2" square by 1" long. How much fun could that actually be?

Not only is "fun" fairly small, according to the candy manufacturers, but I clearly remember the "FunSize" being 3/4" wide by 1/2" high by 2" long only a couple of years ago. Is "fun" shrinking?

I'll tell you what "fun" would be; a four-foot long two-foot wide candy bar.

To be fair, we really don't need bigger candy here in the USA, and Michigan is one of the "largest" states.


You know who's got their packaging right? It's the Chicklets people. They at least are honest and call them "Tiny Size". That's much more accurate! Do I expect the Snickers people to start calling their candy "not much fun size"? No, I won't go that far, but I would like to see a better subjective tag like "pretty small size". I'd really prefer a more objective description like "1-inch size". If they can't be objective, then at least they could be comparative. Perhaps something like: "more fun than a punch in the nose size."

maybe it's just me...