Hooter’s Wings? Legend Debunked (for the Millionth Time) December 13, 2007

I have a confession to make.  I went to Hooter’s for the first time.

I wasn’t forced.  I wasn’t dared.  And I certainly wasn’t tricked (unlike the time I agreed to dine at Skoot’s Hamburgers, having no prescience of the waitstaff’s Hooter’s-esque dress code).  I won a certificate for a free order of wings at a poker tournament.  The curious cheapskate inside got to me.  Why does every guy I know try so hard to justify their visits to Hooter’s by praising the chicken wings? 

So there I was, one of the few female diners at the Arlington Hooter’s on this Saturday night, trying to tune out the enthusiastic LSU fans celebrating yet another one of the football team’s last minute victories this season and second guessing my destination for dinner.  Waitress, a pint of Blue Moon to ease the awkwardness, please.

The wings:

The verdict:

Even though the order was a mix of mild and spicy, I couldn’t distinguish which was which as each wing had the same amount of heat.  Despite the lack of spiciness, the sauce had nice flavor.  The wings were greasy but had a crisp skin.  It’s not my favorite chicken wing, but it really ain’t half bad.

I will say this, the waitress was one of the friendliest I’ve ever encountered.  I was offered another beer when my glass was a third full.  Water and ranch dressing refills were offered at least twice during the meal.  “You need extra napkins, hon?” 

But telling someone that you frequent Hooter’s because the service is nice can easily be interpreted the wrong way.  So yeah, I guess the boys will have to stick to the good wings story.

Non-Fat with Whip?!?! December 3, 2007

I rarely go to Starbucks. 

I’m not familiar with the lingo.  I’m that hated person in line who orders a medium when such a sizing concept clearly does not exist in the world of Starbucks.  I cause confusion at the cash register and ask too many questions.  People in line behind me growl and make me aware that I’m not welcome in their domaine of caffeine.  I feel like a French-illiterate tourist in Paris. 

Visiting Starbucks is a socially intimidating experience for me. 

But as awkward as the experience can be, I gathered up the courage for a visit last Saturday because:

A) My sore throat was killing me and nothing sounded better than a steaming hot beverage. 
B) There are 4 Starbucks locations within a 2-mile radius of my house.

You do the math.  Starbucks’ “we’re taking over the world, one street corner at a time” marketing strategy worked on me.

Upon walking into the Starbucks that’s across the street from another Starbucks that’s adjacent to the other Starbucks inside the grocery store, my anxiety was temporarily eased by the sight of the seasonal trio of holiday flavors on the menu board.  It’s the most wonderful time of the year, maybe the cool coffee kids will take it easy on me.  Still, I practiced my order, muttering the foreign words under my breath as I waited in line, wanting so desperately to fit in with the regulars when my turn at the register came.  I finally got to the counter and spat out my order with such confidence and assertiveness that I was sure no one in the room had any inkling that I was a Starbucks outsider with a sore throat.

“Grande non-fat peppermint white chocolate mocha, please.”

“Alright… grande nonfat PWM.  Did you want whipped cream on that?”

Oh crap! I was not prepared for this question.  I thought I had spelled out all the specifications this time.  Quickly, Donna, quickly! 

“Uh… yes!”

Yes, that’s a good decision.  You like whipped cream. 

All seemed well.  No one behind me was grimacing.  I survived the Starbucks ordering test.  Phew!

I browsed the shelves of holiday gift merchandise while waiting for the baristas to prepare my precisely ordered beverage, feeling the same kind of relief as when my name was finally called out for dodgeball team picks in high school P.E.  Thank goodness I wasn’t last.  Thank goodness I finally mastered the Starbucks lingo this chilly morning.

Just as my thought stream shifted to how many different sizes and types of Starbucks thermoses is truly necessary, I heard the calling.

“Donna! Grande nonfat peppermint white chocolate mocha!”

Me and my itchy throat giddily approached the pickup counter as the barista poured my piping hot beverage into that special holiday edition red paper cup.  She reached for the lid, but pulled back.

“With whip?” The barista asked, ceasing all motion, seemingly confused, in a half-rhetorical manner.

With what?  What did she say? What’s wrong?  What’s the hold up?

The barista turned her quizzical glance directly towards my bewildered self.   

“Non-fat… with whip?” She asked again, this time slower in pace while addressing me directly, with strong emphasis placed on each syllable of her inquiry.

“Uh… yeah…” I stammered, not quite sure what to think.  Then, the lightbulb finally went off in my congested, achy head.  “Oh yes!  Whipped cream!  Yes, with whipped cream!” 

Sure that I had somehow managed to jump through an unforeseen second hurdle, I looked for a nod, or a yes, or some sort of signal that the barista had understood what I said.

But she just said it again, “non-fat, WITH whip?”  Emphasis on fewer words this time.

I nodded for visual confirmation.  Maybe she had trouble hearing me.

She reached for the cannister of whipped cream, muttering to her self “non-fat with whip?!?!” at least a couple more times, as if the request were some deep philosophical question requiring thorough self reflection.

Finally, the fluffy topping was on the mocha and the lid was snapped shut.  She handed me the beverage, repeating once more, this time with an unequivocal tone of disbelief and disapproval, “Peppermint white chocolate mocha, non-fat with whip.”

I grabbed the cup and bolted out the door, feeling as if I had committed some unspoken but deadly sin.  I wanted to shout back to her, “I know the whipped cream negates the non-fat milk!  I know!  I’m not stupid!  But I like whipped cream!  And why not cut fat from the milk where I can?!?!”  True, I have gotten weird looks in the past for ordering things like veggie burgers with bacon (I like the taste of the veggie burger patties and I like bacon, why not have them together?), chili-cheese fries with fat free ranch dressing (it’s a horrendously unhealthy guilty pleasure, so why not cut save some calories where possible?), pad thai with a combination of tofu and chicken (actually, in Asian cultures, tofu is not so much considered a meat substitute as much as a food group of its own, so combining meat with tofu is quite common).  Most service staff will usually ask again just to make sure they got my slightly-off-the-wall request right, but none have so explicitly judged me for these types of orders until Saturday.

As I sat in the car in the parking lot sipping my slightly too sweet peppermint white chocolate mocha (nonfat with whip, yes, yes), I knew it was time to give up.  I’ll never be cool enough for Starbucks.

Confessions of a Breakfast Skipper November 20, 2007

I read studies all the time about how regular breakfast consumption increases morning alertness, decreases risk of obesity, boosts metabolism, and so on and so forth.  I even conducted a small study for my Statistics class this semester about factors affecting Body Mass Index and included regularity of breakfast consumption as one of the factors.  But, like so many people who just can’t seem to find an extra minute in the morning and barely make it to work on time, I am guilty of skipping breakfast.

Since starting full time work some two years ago, my breakfast has consisted of eating a cup of low fat yogurt in my cube within 15 minutes of arriving at work.  It’s not a real breakfast by any means, but eases up my conscience about not eating anything at all the in the morning.  About a year into the yogurt cup breakfast routine, I got bored, seriously bored.  I couldn’t stand to look at another cup of low fat blueberry, peach, or strawberry banana yogurt without completely killing my appetite.

Then I tried spicing things up with yogurt smoothies.  I found the Yoplait Smoothies far too thick for my preference (they should really not classify it as a beverage as it could use an accompanying spoon).  I liked the Dannon Light and Fit drinkable variety, but despite all the flavors featured on the website, I could only find the strawberry banana ones at all my local grocers.  So after a few months, I was sick of drinkable strawberry banana yogurt, too.

This past summer, I got really desperate.  I went to the dark side.  I started eating *gasp* Go-gurt.  The first ever yogurt in a tube, clearly marketed towards children, was one of my favorite topics of ridicule when it first came on the market.  But I was desperate and willing to experiment.  I froze my Go-gurt tubes and ate them as yogurt push-pops on the drive to work, thinking it would be a fun summertime treat.  Yes, I actually ate them on the drive to work instead of while at work due to the feeling of shame.  But after a couple of weeks, I realized that freezing the Go-gurt tubes didn’t help the overpowering sweetness of them.  Furthermore, flavors like Cool Cotton Candy and Cool Punch and Rawberry just didn’t sound very appealing (and to the adult tastebud, didn’t taste that great either).

Things were looking pretty bleak on the yogurt-for-breakfast front.  Then, I discovered the world of Lucerne yogurts. 

 

Lucerne is the generic brand sold by Safeway stores (Tom Thumb for Dallas folks).  For some reason, Lucerne is doing something that seems so obvious yet done by no other yogurt brand.  They offer lots of flavors (and they’re not combinations of strawberry plus some other fruit)!  With flavors like green tea, green tea mango, passionfruit, orange-pomegranate, and seasonal (limited edition) flavors like pumpkin, chai latte, gingerbread, and caramel apple, my tastebuds are bound to be entertained for at least another few months!  There are more flavors but I can’t remember all of them and Lucerne’s website is not very consumer-friendly.  The only downside to Lucerne yogurts?  It is impossible to get the aluminum foil top off the yogurt cup in one piece.  I have tried so hard, so carefully, with equal pressure on all edges, with endless patience, even while muttering a little prayer, and have failed each and every time.  The annoyance caused by this little pet peeve is best expressed by one blogger here (excess expletives warning).  As much as I am excited by these new flavors, I can totally understand the pain.

Semi-Homemade Ethnic Meals August 17, 2007

Lesson learned: drive 3 miles south of luxury SUV, golf course covered northern Carrollton for small adventures into ethnic food.

These aren’t the greatest ethnic markets but I am certainly glad to have something close to home.  On the southside of the Frankford and Josey intersection is where my adventure takes me. 

1) Carrollton Plaza Supermarket, a large Asian market on the southeast corner of the intersection, has a huge variety of fresh seafood and produce.  The bakery serves up some interesting items as well.  My favorite thing here (and this is almost shameful to admit) is the huge selection of frozen goods.  Maybe selections in other items aren’t as complete as some of the other Asian markets in DFW, but this place is frozen dumplings heaven!  I am often guilty of picking up frozen crystal shrimp dumplings, pork and crab xiao long bao, BBQ pork buns, and shui mai for dim sum at home.  I usually serve edamame (blanched frozen kind) with these little delightful dumplings along with a dipping sauce made from soy sauce, sesame oil, chili paste, rice wine vinegar, and sugar. 

The strip mall also has a couple of Vietnamese restaurants and a boba tea place.  I wasn’t impressed with the boba tea place (why go here when Fat Straws is closer?) or one of the restaurants (I think it’s Bon Mua?), but will go try the other restaurant soon.

2) La Tapatia Meat Market, across the street on the southwest corner of the intersection, is a fruteria, carniceria, taqueria, and panaderia rolled into one stop.  The setup is similar to the popular La Michoacana chain with the added lure of sweet breads, bollilos, and other pasteles baked fresh daily.  I guilty of buying the fajita meat from the taqueria by the pound and assembling tacos and tortas at home when I’m feeling too lazy to fire up the grill. 

There is a restaurant in this shopping center, Nico’s Cocina, that I want to try.  Anyone else been here before?

What is Wrong with This Picture? July 16, 2007

Fine dining establishments use cloth napkins and silverware.  Casual dining establishments use paper napkins and silverware.  Fast food establishments use paper napkins and plasticware.  What kind of eatery uses cloth napkins with plasticware? Apparently airport eateries do.

The above odd combination was presented to me at the Wolfgang Puck Airport Cafe at Chicago O’Hare.  Perhaps the cloth napkins are a way to signify that this cafe is a notch above the rest of the airport dining choices?  All oddities aside, I had a very enjoyable wood-fired pizza with roma tomatoes, grilled chicken, yellow bellpepper, and cilantro there.  Not too shabby for airport dining, my friend.