The KFC Double Down Adventure: By Ashleigh

This is a stick-up! I want everyone to put their forks in the air slowly and hand over your good taste.

Ah, so this blog is a usually bastion of fine desserts and food, but here to bring some REAL CLASS is I, the ubiquitous Ashleigh, bringing you the wonders of the ultra-classy KFC Double Down. But really, this entry will be about the ridiculous lengths taken to acquire this gold-standard of fast food ridiculosity and how the DD is really just the culmination of a thousand of years of globalized oppression brought on by the…ahem. Nothing to see here! Moving on.

It all started with some ITG (In the Groove, the slightly more difficult and apparently more awesome version of DDR). No, actually, it started with Colin picking my friends (Mar and Agent Tsai) and me up from the 40, but really, who needs to know that? (Except now you know all of the characters in this little drama, see that was clevar.) So, we went to the arcade, owned some noobs at Ski Ball, got owned at ITG (except for Colin.) and decided to leave when the locals decided to cut in line and take off their shirts BEFORE playing.

I never thought I’d be thankful for douches but…I have a new found appreciation for them, as Axe-drenched tornado warnings. No sooner than we had buckled our seat-belts, the tornado sirens went off. Me, being a hardened Kansas veteran of many severe storms, determined, since the sky was not yet green, that we should go find a KFC anyway and watch the radar as we went. It was a great idea, and was working until Susan (the GPS) started taking us right into the middle of the storm. And then the sky turned green. And then we made a U-turn. Colin suggested that we go home and so Mar pushed the correct buttons on the GPS and we were off. As this point, my brain switched into full storm-excitement mode aka OMG I LOVE STORMS OMGOMGOMG THIS IS SO AWESOME mode ™. I was just staring at the sky, taunting my friends back home via text (who were super jealous), and occasionally offering reassurances to the team (yeah, we’re a team now). So, I didn’t really watch where we were going. I did start paying attention when we started crossing the river.

Me: “Hey Colin. I thought you lived near the university.”
Colin: “yeah, I do. Why?”
Me: “Uhm, we’re crossing the river.”
Colin: “#$@!”
Me: “Hey Mariam, did you press the ‘home’ button on Susan?”
Mar: “Yessss…”
Me: “Well, Colin’s from New Hampshire.”
Mar & AT: “…”

So they say everything happens for a reason, and in this case, by getting turned around in ghetto East St. Louis, we managed to avoid the worst of the storm AKA death by tornado. By the time we made it back across town, the sun was shining, the freeway was slightly flooded, and KFC was looking fantastic.


Susan decided not to be a jerk and guided us to the objective of the day. Too exhausted to brave the unsanitary confines of the restaurant, we opted for the drive-thru and the relative comfort of the apartment, which brings me to the food part of this blog.


The KFC Double Down, as you might know, is a “bunless” sandwich that consists of cheese, “Colonel Sauce” (mayonnaise, for real), and two pieces of bacon between two pieces of fried chicken. I’m probably going to shock the whole blogosphere by saying this, but it’s really not that gross. Honestly, if you slapped the whole thing between two buns, we’d have a double chicken burger with bacon. Which IS disgustingly disgusting, but it’s not the harbinger of doom that everyone’s been freaking out about. The most horrible thing about it was that it was incredibly salty, just like KFC’s fried chicken. I was genuinely disappointed in the lack of greasy-monstrosityness. As far as taste goes, it was very salty, so it was “good,” meaning that the four of us ate it rather quickly and guiltily. Sadly, the bacon and sauce were buried between the chicken breasts, and only a hint of cheese managed to squeeze through. In a way, this blog entry is like the Double Down, in that the two anecdotes that encapsulate the point of the entry are greater and more delicious than the objective.


We couldn’t subsist on a few bites of fried chicken alone after a long day of being storm chased, so we decided to take Agent Tsai (a Canadian) to Steak ‘n Shake, because “they don’t have those in Canada.” So, battle-scarred and hungry, we piled into the Subaru and told Susan to take us to the nearest SnS (but not before we gawked at a full double-bow rainbow for five minutes). Well, Susan decided to be a complete wanker and direct us to a Steak ‘n Shake that DID NOT EXIST. It was like the Twilight Zone, but unlike the Twilight Zone, we didn’t receive a somewhat twisted moral lesson or become trapped in some sort of inter-dimensional rift, I just yelled at the GPS and we found one that actually existed. Not quite as awesome, but I digress. Steak ‘n Shake, was well, steak(ish) for the half that couldn’t have a shake. The other half had shakes, but no steak. Did that just blow your mind? Because it really shouldn’t. I had the Frisco melt, which was a SNS burger on sourdough with “Frisco sauce” (just a crude imitation of the perfection that is In-N-Out’s Special Sauce). It was pretty good, although I really wasn’t paying attention to it; I was really hungry, and jealous of Mar’s mocha/vanilla shake. (Curse you lactose intolerance!) I think the ice cube sculptures were the best part of the meal…no, our waiter aka “Robo-man” was the best part. I think he might have been lobotomized. Because of lactose-challenged status of half of our group, we decided to seek dessert elsewhere.


Well, yours truly had a “brilliant” idea that we should procure a dessert-only reservation at Harvest. A couple of older, more knowledgeable college students had informed me that Harvest had excellent desserts, and had been there in casual wear. So, running with that information, we made reservations (that should have been our first clue) and finally made it there after becoming lost AGAIN. (Incidentally, Susan was grounded for a few weeks.) So, the amazing desserts thing was correct, but the casual wear? Let’s just add this experience to the awkward-things-Ashleigh-has-dragged-her-friends-into list. However, our waitress was wonderful, courteous, and kind. She suggested the bread pudding which everyone, except for Agent Tsai, ordered. I am not exaggerating when I say that this dessert was the best thing I’ve eaten in St. Louis, and possibly the best dessert I’ve ever had. It was warm, not too chewy, and the cream complimented the sweet vanilla bourbon sauce perfectly; the currants were an added bonus. It was a golden and glorious ending to our gastronomic adventure (that was only supposed to last a few hours by the way). Unfortunately, there are no photos of this wonderful dish, as we were all too cowed to whip out our cameras.

So thus ends my tale of April 24, 2010, despite its supreme ridiculousness, probably one of the best days of my freshman year. There’s something wonderfully relieving, de-stressing, and dare I say it, enjoyable about engaging in a good bout of insanity. (yeah, I just screwed up that parallelism. English teachers the world over just face-palmed) Many thanks to Colin for providing transportation and enabling the whole adventure, to Mar for letting me hijack this blog, and to Agent Tsai, for being a bulwark of stoicism in the midst of the storm. (aka silently panicking in the backseat. Well, to be fair, Mar was assisting, and Colin was “passive-aggressively” panicking, although I suppose he had a reason, being the driver and all.)

FUN FACT: This blog entry is longer than my last music history essay over 17th-century madrigals. Mar, this is how much I love you.

Kitchen, Knife, and Rootstock?

Since I've gone to school my mom keeps mentioning restaurants to me that I've never heard of, whether they be new restaurants or restaurants they'd just never been to before. One of those restaurants, Rootstock, I heard about from both my mom AND one of her friends via twitter. I ate there with my parents back on December 29th, and, thanks to the contents of our fridge at the time, decided I'd write down the description of one of their flatbreads that sounded tasty and try to recreate my idea of it the following evening:
Prosciutto, garlic herbed sheeps milk cheese, arugula, brandied cranberry vinaigrette & pistachio

I never did get around to giving it a try, despite buying cranberry juice, pizza dough, and having serrano ham, manchego, and arugula in the fridge. (I never said it was going to be exactly the same thing, considering I don't actually know what exactly it is.)

Well, now, 135 days later, I've finally given it a try. Only without the prosciutto. And, okay, not really the same thing at all, but it was still tasty. The dressing was quite sour and strong (I liked it), and I served it with another idea from Rootstock's menu, via their website. This description: Black Earth organic burger, bacon-scallion aioli, red onion, Fiscilini cheddar, w/ mezclun greens & house pickles

Well, that translated into mini bunless burgers, and the use of a few shortcuts. No homemade aioli - yogurt was used instead, but the red onions were sauteed in lard (I know, I can't even believe I just said that. What happened to me in college?).



All in all, it was probably a bit adventurous for my first night back in a kitchen. But hey, there's always take-out if nothing turns out edible.

The Crescent City

I'm spending the weekend in New Orleans. It is my first time in New Orleans, and it has already been clear to me what the main thing to do is: eat.

And I'm sad to say, out of four meals so far, only one meal was truly something, two were okay, and then there was the one was with my mom that was part of her meeting, but that doesn't count.

Saturday Night, so far disappointed with New Orleans with the exception of going to Art for Art's Sake. Afterwards, we ate and walked down Bourbon Street. That is something I never want to do again. I'm not fond of drunk people with oversized beers, pounding music mixing together from all sides, and the strong scent of liquor mixed with vomit and urine. I find it disgusting-and not in an exhilarating way.

Sunday was much better. Despite twice getting caught in the on again/off again heavy rain in the morning. The first quick downpour led to my riding on a streetcar for the first time. As soon as it started moving, it stopped raining. No more than a minute we got off at the end of the line, halfway to our destination in the Garden District, it started pouring again. Mom thought we should hang out in the underpass until it stopped. The air was so damp that we gave up on having the umbrella dry even after the rain did stop.
The rest of our walk was pleasant. We saw pretty houses, and others that still needed to be repaired. There was a new looking AT&T store in front of a crumbling yellow house. That made some things clear.

When we arrived at Commander's Palace, mom was damp and excited to be inside; I, miraculously, was comfortable in the steamy weather. The recently redone hundred-year old restaurant was definitely worth the weather. We walked in, and a server led us through a line of servers that greeted us with warm smiles, through a dining room, up a flight of stairs, through another dining room, and into a smaller dining room with striped walls with matching curtains that blended right in. It seemed almost as if it should be tacky, but it wasn't in the least.

Our three-course jazz brunch was spectacular. Mom was worried when I said I wanted to go there for brunch and insisted we get a reservation that it was going to be all show and no taste. After she had a piece of garlic bread (made with real garlic and cheese) with her chicory coffee, she changed her mind. When she read over the menu, and our waiter said that the pecan-crusted gulf fish was drum, Mom insisted I try it. Drum is her new favorite fish. She had it a few nights ago for dinner, and was blown away. She was also thrown by the size of a soft-shell crab her friend had gotten, and decided to get soft-shell crab.

We started with salads, a romaine salad similar to a Ceasar, except with a buttermilk-black pepper dressing and toast points, and a Warm Rabbit and Apple Salad that had pears, apple, candied pecans, warm rabbit, and a sweet vinaigrette.
Our entrees were also wonderful: the pecan-crusted drum with lump crab and a corn bisque-like sauce converted me to a drum lover. Mom's scary large soft-shell crab with its crunchy fried exterior and melt in your mouth interior with a remoulade was delicious. And I never thought I really liked crab.

And the bread pudding souffle, the signature dessert, was that classic New Orleans bread pudding topped with a puffy meringue. Mom's praline sundae had a tasty cookie wrapped around it that I couldn't stop eating. Plus, I really like candied pecans. After our dessert came, the jazz trio came around to our table and asked what we would like to hear. Mom asked if they had anything original, and they just played covers, but they chose Down Yonder in New Orleans to play for us.

After breakfast- and yes, depite my long narration, that failed to mention the polka-dotted bathroom walls, there was more to our day than a delicious brunch - it was time to do some exploring.

It was raining again when we left the restaurant, so we took a cab to the Ogden Museum of Southern Art and spent a few hours looking around in there. There was an exhibit that was a guy who changed his name twelve times in a year, changing his persona and style each time, until his twelfth name, which is what he still goes by thirty years later with a style he still produces works of art with.

We walked back to our hotel from the museum on the same street we'd walked back on the night before. I got a picture of a Lutheran Church the night before, and it looked so different in the daylight. The street where the galleries were also looked less friendly.

After spending a while in our room (I was doing some homework, Mom read the paper), we decided to explore the French Quarter. We took the wrong street the first time, Dumaine, but walking back to the hotel, we found the street to see. Royal. It's chock full of galleries, restaraunts, and cute shops. Right off of Royal, on Toulouse, was a used cookbook and music store called Kitchen Witch. I was so glad that when I saw the sign that said "Cook books" I turned back around and headed towards it with Mom. We spent probably half an hour in it, and the owners were so friendly, as were Bob, the official greeter who happened to bea cat that reminded me of Jack, Sophie, a large black dog, and another dog whose name I don't remember.
I ended up buying a new book that's pretty recent called "Ruby Slippers" a cookbook with stories about Katrina that was put together by a twenty-nine year old woman. So far it is interesting to read.

We also saw a portion of Bourbon Street that was residential. Not quite the Bourbon Street thought of, but more pleasant.

Now that I've discovered Royal Street though, the French Quarter doesn't seem like such a bad place.

Greasy Bag

It's summer. Well, not the season, but that span of approximately three months between a year of school and another year of school. FREEDOM! I have more time than I know what to do with (read: time spent doing nothing when there is plenty I could be doing.) Mostly I read cute teen romance novels that require little of my cognitive skills and stay inside the air conditioned house except to walk to the library. That being said I'm not at my sharpest. Nor at a loss for time.

Which I guess somewhat explains how after seeing Ocean's Thirteen and splitting up from some friends I ended up walking home with a white paper bag containing a delicious dinner that contained foods that I only wish I could make at home in hopes that they'd be hotter.

At eight o'clock I faced a dilemma I very rarely face at that time: what to do for dinner. Usually I've either eaten by then, or long ago decided what my plans were. I was standing on a busy street corner, and knew I had to get home since darkness was fast approaching and my (unofficial) curfew is nightfall when I'm out and about. I didn't have much time. Ben and Jerry's looked so tempting - but I know an ice cream sundae was not exactly the healthiest nor satisfying dinner, not to mention it looked a bit crowded. And there's food at home. I just couldn't remember, other than a roasted pepper, cucumbers, zucchini, some mixed greens that may or may not be any good still, celery, and yummy dressing (actually, I remembered the dressing right after I'd purchased my dinner.) I could easily make a meal out of the stuff we had at home, because there's more than just what I listed, but I was too tired to think what I could make out of it, and the frozen meal seemed to similar to my lunch today (which was leftovers from last night's meal-not a frozen meal).

I took the easy way out. I decided on fast food: a falafel sandwich and baba ganoush. can't go wrong with that. (Except for the whole fact that cold falafel sandwiches aren't nearly as yummy as when they just make them and the falafel has just been fried.)

Dim Sum

We headed down to Chinatown today, which probably wasn't the best idea since it is the Chinese New Year, but we thought it might be fun to see the parade and have some dim sum beforehand.
It was swamped. My cousin and I wandered around the mall while my parents waited at Happy Chef for a table. After almost an hour of waiting we had to decide: dim sum or the parade.
Naturally, after waiting that long and with such a build up of anticipation, the dim sum won.
We did get to see the lions dance though.

12 dishes proved to be more than plenty. I think my favorite would have to be the yummy fried taro balls.

I had no idea what to expect when I bit into it, but they were like any other sort of dumpling, except with a layer of taro.Even though we didn't get around to the parade really, it was fun walking around, though it was really crowded. Plus, with some red bean cakes from a bakery to bring home, luck should be on my side.

Blackbird

Last night, Dad and I had one of our date nights. He wanted to take me to Blackbird, so I made reservations a couple of days ago. I thought my online reservations didn't go through because it kept telling me to go back and select a time, so I finally called them to make one. I accidentally made three reservations, but found out and canceled two when they called to confirm.

When I first walked in I was impressed by the clean lines of the place. I understood what Mom meant when she described it as a bit loud. The tables were close together and it was a bit difficult to hear my dad at times.

First there was amuse, which I am not quite sure what it was because neither Dad nor I heard/understood what it was when it was presented to us. Dad didn't think I should take pictures (I did have my pink camera with me.) I think it was a bacon mustard sauce with fish (salmon?), apples, and fresh dill. Whatever it was, it was good.

To start with I ordered the warm organic sunburst trout with meyer lemon, pickled beets, wild arugula, and chorizo bread crumbs. The plate presentations are wonderful. It was in an oval shaped platter with the sauce (a light citrusy aioli, possibly) on one side and the thinly sliced pickled beets, with the trout with the bread crumbs on top of that, which was topped with the lemon and arugula. My first bite was a bit too peppery, but after that I have no complaints. I was worried about the pickled beets because I hear pickled and I think torshi (Iranian pickled vegetables), which I do not like. I didn't notice the chorizo and completely forgot there was even any in the dish until looking up the name of it just now.
Dad ordered the seared maine diver scallops with roasted chestnuts, moonglow pears, smoked bacon, and saba. He seemed to enjoy it. I had a bite of the scallop with the pears, but I'm not a big fan of the flavor of larger scallops (bad experience of eating too many years ago), but the pear was nice and thinly sliced.

For dinner I ordered the sauteed walleyed pike with butternut frites, radicchio, green apples, hickory nuts and sorrel. I had difficulty ordering because its difficult to be adventurous and know if you will like it or not. I went with the pike despite the waitress suggesting the sturgeon because I prefer flakier fish over meatier ones. I've never had hickory nuts or sorrel as far as I know, so my dish was pretty much a bunch of new flavors for me. And I didn't like them all. I wasn't sure if something was wrong, or if it was my taste. It was my taste. Dad tried some and said they tasted right. I learned I don't like cooked radicchio (it becomes too bitter for my liking). Same with hickory nuts. Dad said that the pike was a bit overcooked, but I don't know enough about fish to be able to tell, and I thought it was delicious with a nice crispy outside, but it was still wonderfully moist and flaky. The only complaint (other than not knowing that I don't like cooked radicchio or hickory nuts) would have to be that a few bites were too salty, but not too many.
Dad had the grilled organic veal tenderloin and veal sausage with local turnips, dandelions, apricot chutney and px sherry vinegar. I didn't try much of it, but he didn't say anything bad about it. I only tried the chutney, which was very rich and not overly sweet.

And then of course we had to have dessert, which was a very difficult choice because they all sounded good and none of them had multiple things I'd never had in them so I knew for the most part they weren't things I don't like (the problem with being a picky eater), but after seeing the table next to us have dessert when we arrived, I knew to have no idea what to expect. We finally decided on toasted pinenut 'pain de gene' with quince, saffron, and yogurt sorbet. The cake part of it was deliciously moist and nutty with a hint of saffron, the quince was so beautifully sliced and arranged, the saffron really came through in the sauce, the yogurt sorbet was a lot better than it sounds (it was the iffy part to me), deliciously creamy and not too sweet but sweet enough to balance out the nuttiness of the rest of the dessert. The toasted pine nuts crunched and melted with each bite. The dessert is the only part of dinner that I have no complaints about (most of which relates to salt/pepper and personal dislike of certain flavors).

When we left, around 8:30 or so, the place was completely packed, including the bar with people waiting.