Tempeh. Tofu. Seitan. The Monster hates them. He doesn’t want fermented soy. He doesn’t need coagulated soy milk. Insoluble gluten does not excite him. The little bits of tofu polluting hot and sour soup always lives a lonely life at the bottom of the bowl when The Monster eats Chinese. Never will The Monster order tofu sushi. That just doesn’t make sense. Let’s not even begin to discuss stinky tofu. Will not consume a tempeh and quinoa bowl. Ever. Seitan or is it satan?
The Monster has been to BCD Tofu House. He got chicken teriyaki. For you 2,857 people who like tempeh on Facebook the question is why? Why have you joined the seitanic cult?
…and Otter Pops? This one is pretty simple.
The Monster thinks mayonnaise is disgusting and he doesn’t understand how you filthy people can eat it. You can call is Hellman’s or Miracle Whip or Kraft. You can see it say “real mayonnaise” on the label and tell The Monster he is wrong. As if there is a run on “fake” mayonnaise. You can say whatever you want but it is a scourge on the earth.
It’s so weirdly white and the consistency is just plain nasty. So thick and creamy. And it tastes like absolute shit in a jar. But you like that apparently.
This one is too obvious. But perhaps you have never had the distinct displeasure of being served sea cucumbers and then consider this a PSA from your friend The Monster.
The Monster doesn’t expect much flak from the revelation that sea cucumbers are wholly filthy, disgusting, used-snot-rag-found-on-the-side-of-the-highway gross.
Be it boiled or steamed and served up with drawn butter, on a toasted roll
or baked in with mac n’ cheese, mashed into potatoes or added to bisque, The
Monster is most definitely in love with lobster.
That seductively delicious taste adds sweet notes to a special meal,
lobster has long been a tremendously desired and terribly expensive
commodity. But has it always been this way?
Pickles mega-rule. Anything pickled (save herring and people) The Monster will absolutely, lovingly scarf down. See a pickle tray, eat a pickle. Then another. Another. Sheepishly another. And then ask for more.
Pickled jars of exotic fruits and vegetables gracing a menu demand to be ordered (and luckily are de riguer). Pickles, once the bastard step-child of food are white hot and present on the finest of menus.
Bananas are gross. They taste bad. They smell repugnant. They have a weird texture. Monkeys love bananas. Humans should not. Kids pretend bananas are telephones. They aren’t. Also kids, we should talk about Santa.
When someone is mentally unwell we call them bananas. Still want to eat one? Banana Republic is not a good clothing store. Bananas however is a great Woody Allen film. So there is that.