SCANDINAVIA - COOKING BLOOD

You know that warm, bubbly, oozing red stuff that squirts out of the slit throat of an animal while it dies a slow and painful death? Swedes make soups, puddings, and pancakes with it, and it’s totally legit. Fair enough that the practice of eating blood is held over from the days of starving peasants having to use every part of their recently-slaughtered animal, but—and running the risk of sounding like a backwards-ass Christian—where I grew up in Sacramento, California, and in most other places, the act of eating blood is looked upon as a total sin. To quote the bible, Genesis 9:3: “Everything that lives and moves will be food for you. Just as I gave you the green plants, I now give you everything. But you must not eat meat that has its lifeblood still in it.” In other words: it is FUCKING GROSS to pig out on blood.

PARIS - CHEESE VIRGIN

I am French and I've never eaten cheese in my entire life. It's always been a big neurosis, my worst fear, and one of my greatest prides at the same time. I guess I feel "rare" or something like that, because basically every French person I know LOVES to put those crappy hunks of altered milk into their mouths. The theory I have for my aversion is that cheese smell has more than a little something in common with genital smell. When I was a kid I had a dream that my buddies and I had to taste cheese in class while being naked. To my childish personality, cheese was equal to sex. And sex was embarrassing. But then recently I decided it was time to face this fetish-phobia and gobble down some moldy curdled milk.

FOOD ON DRUNK - THE UPDOWNLEFTRIGHT SUPER MEGA STORE

 

My wife, Tania, and I were recently invited to Beijing to do a story on the Chinese government’s interest in making skateboarding part of their Olympic program. An interesting story to be sure, but I was most excited about sampling some fucked-up Chinese food.

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Fruit is not ever dangerous and gross. Fruit has always been special, biblical bacchanalia, an exotic chow vacation for sexy adventure people who wear no clothes and allow melon seeds to drip down their chins into their bellybuttons. Fruit is like a rainbow; fruit is a healthy spiritual treat. Fruit is a nourishing miracle of color, so often depicted in oils by the great master painters. Fruit is not a halitosis grenade and it shouldn't make your mouth smell like a moldy iguana wearing dirty jean shorts.

An Australian friend of mine just brought me this “Snackabout” from her baffling homeland. It’s basically the Dunkaroo’s drunken, casually racist cousin. And while my friend readily admits that Vegemite is the foulest substance her countrymen put in their mouths outside of bugs, she also claims that it can kill the most crippling hangover with a single yeasty smear.

The other night Monkeytown hosted a "live feed" of Food Party's premiere episode on IFC. A live feed of a food show, har. It’s the creation of Thu Tran, a small Vietnamese lady whose facial expressions often involve bearing all her teeth. Before the screening began I watched guests check in and quickly realized that nearly all of them were from IFC or Food Party itself. This meant that nearly the entire crowd erupted in applause every fucking time one of their own appeared on screen.

One of our bloggers got swine flu, now there's swine flu at Vogue...sigh. It's the Kevin Bacon of viruses, get over it. But how's Mexico doing in New York? Our intern Siggy dropped by his local Mexican food joint and chatted with Dave, the son of the owner, about what the hell is going on down in his mother country. Dave talks about all the tacos and burritos on the menu as if they were beautiful ladies. He’s in love with the chicken chipotle burrito, but like most people he’s a cheating bastard and Siggy made him admit it.

I sat down with my buddy Nick, who lives upstairs in my house, and asked him why he's such an appalling slob. He is pretty much full of shit because I doubt he takes anything out in three days like he says in the following interview, and I promise you Febreze doesn't cover up the smell of garbage. His room usually kind of smells but he does keep it in his room, so I guess I can't complain that much...

My local Chinese, Wu, still has standards. In the face of worldwide apathy, it still believes in maintaining the magic of eating warm noodles in front of the telly. Magic that can only be achieved with a complementary helping of fortune cookies with each delivery. "So what?" I hear you say, "Fortune cookies are just baby snacks repackaged for retarded Westerners who think they're getting a tip from their soothsaying Asian friends." Obviously you don't believe in magic. Here's the wisdom they've been offering lately.

Eating disorders are no joke, but dating someone who has one can be fucking hilarious. My ex was tall and beautiful, and I could swear I saw her eat all the time. But according to friends and family, I’m not much of a listener—if a girl I just met said, “Hey, I think you should know that I have a serious eating disorder and I don’t want help,” chances are I didn’t pay attention to any of that. So since I’m used to ignoring the obvious I thought this lady must be that first ex-wife I’ve been waiting around for. I even introduced her to my parents. Then things started to slip.

NEW YORK - CRIMINAL FOOD

Fruit is not ever dangerous and gross. Fruit has always been special, biblical bacchanalia, an exotic chow vacation for sexy adventure people who wear no clothes and allow melon seeds to drip down their chins into their bellybuttons. Fruit is like a rainbow; fruit is a healthy spiritual treat. Fruit is a nourishing miracle of color, so often depicted in oils by the great master painters. Fruit is not a halitosis grenade and it shouldn't make your mouth smell like a moldy iguana wearing dirty jean shorts.

NEW YORK - VEGEMITE VS. MY HANGOVER

An Australian friend of mine just brought me this “Snackabout” from her baffling homeland. It’s basically the Dunkaroo’s drunken, casually racist cousin. And while my friend readily admits that Vegemite is the foulest substance her countrymen put in their mouths outside of bugs, she also claims that it can kill the most crippling hangover with a single yeasty smear.

NEW YORK - FOOD PARTY PARTY

The other night Monkeytown hosted a "live feed" of Food Party's premiere episode on IFC. A live feed of a food show, har. It’s the creation of Thu Tran, a small Vietnamese lady whose facial expressions often involve bearing all her teeth. Before the screening began I watched guests check in and quickly realized that nearly all of them were from IFC or Food Party itself. This meant that nearly the entire crowd erupted in applause every fucking time one of their own appeared on screen.

NEW YORK - CHECKING IN WITH MEXICO

One of our bloggers got swine flu, now there's swine flu at Vogue...sigh. It's the Kevin Bacon of viruses, get over it. But how's Mexico doing in New York? Our intern Siggy dropped by his local Mexican food joint and chatted with Dave, the son of the owner, about what the hell is going on down in his mother country. Dave talks about all the tacos and burritos on the menu as if they were beautiful ladies. He’s in love with the chicken chipotle burrito, but like most people he’s a cheating bastard and Siggy made him admit it.

NEW YORK - HEY GUY, WHY ARE YOU SUCH A TOTAL COMPLETE SLOB?

I sat down with my buddy Nick, who lives upstairs in my house, and asked him why he's such an appalling slob. He is pretty much full of shit because I doubt he takes anything out in three days like he says in the following interview, and I promise you Febreze doesn't cover up the smell of garbage. His room usually kind of smells but he does keep it in his room, so I guess I can't complain that much...

LONDON - YOU WILL READ THIS FORTUNE AND LOVE IT

My local Chinese, Wu, still has standards. In the face of worldwide apathy, it still believes in maintaining the magic of eating warm noodles in front of the telly. Magic that can only be achieved with a complementary helping of fortune cookies with each delivery. "So what?" I hear you say, "Fortune cookies are just baby snacks repackaged for retarded Westerners who think they're getting a tip from their soothsaying Asian friends." Obviously you don't believe in magic. Here's the wisdom they've been offering lately.

NEW YORK - ANA'S WATCHING

Eating disorders are no joke, but dating someone who has one can be fucking hilarious. My ex was tall and beautiful, and I could swear I saw her eat all the time. But according to friends and family, I’m not much of a listener—if a girl I just met said, “Hey, I think you should know that I have a serious eating disorder and I don’t want help,” chances are I didn’t pay attention to any of that. So since I’m used to ignoring the obvious I thought this lady must be that first ex-wife I’ve been waiting around for. I even introduced her to my parents. Then things started to slip.