fact or fiction
Is it a fact or is it merely fiction? Fact or Fiction explores the lesser known truths in the food universe.
An English Picnic
Growing up, an English summer was not complete without a picnic. Every child looked forward to their school holidays, but the summer break was particularly magical…six weeks of fun, sunshine and outings. I know England is universally joked about for wet weather; but my childhood memories of summer include sunny days and long evenings sitting in the garden until 10pm, when darkness finally laid its blanket over us. I remember day trips to the beach with buckets and spades, plastic flags, donkey rides and ice creams. Then driving home sandy, salty, tired and happy. Castle explorations and rambling in the woods hunting for blackberries also feature in my memories. Another popular pastime was water fights with old washing up liquid bottles with the neighbourhood children; there was usually some incident where detergent hadn’t been totally removed and ended up in someone’s eye, but they were fun times, filled with simple pleasures.
The Perfect Burger
For me, summer will always be about my uncle's burgers, none more so than the one he gave me on my 12th birthday. He had this secret recipe he refused to share with anyone and only brought out once a year for the 4th of July weekend. He always threw a huge BBQ at his house and the whole family would come together, traveling from up and down the country. Even distant relatives came all the way from overseas; people I would have never known I was related to. Seeing each other was nice but really, we were all there for the food, and his burgers more than anything. He always made a huge batch, enough to feed the whole family, but still, people would fight over them trying to get just one more. He always made sure I got one though and this year, on my 12th birthday, my uncle made a special one just for me.
God's Own Hamburger
I sit here looking for the words or a hook to catch your interest in this piece, and I don’t seem to be able to come up with anything clever, interesting, or witty. It is a strange feeling for someone who has chosen to make writing their career to not have the words to put on a page for an introduction to memories from my childhood which I cherish, so I guess I’ll just jump in.
Summer By The Pool
I let out a sigh as my feet dangled in the cool water. The sun was bearing down on me, creating beads of sweat along my forehead. I glanced up at the clear, blue sky and pulled my hat tighter around my head. The sun was strong and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Perfection.
Crispy Crumbly Makes Me Mumbly
People talk about the flavor of bacon in reverential tones, singing its praises, whispering its name, and seeking it out for daily comfort, particularly in time of stress. They salivate over the smoky, salty flavor. They wax eloquent about the nuanced notes differentiating applewood-smoked versus hickory-cured. They moan about the spices and sugars of candied strips of hog-fat heaven. They drool at the thought of honey or maple syrup dripping off the marbled meld of legendary lean and fat. They drone on about the smell of frying bacon wafting into their bedrooms from the kitchen, providing the most pleasurable and effective alarm clock for happy wakefulness in the morning. Bacon drives men mad, sends women into orgasmic delight, and in at least one documented instance, caused a tumult in the mellow district of Haight-Ashbury, San Francisco, when the aroma emanating from a bacon-only establishment saturated the neighborhood in a gentle, smoky haze not known since the Summer of Love.
Elitist Nonsense is referred to as "foodie."
In my first article, I said that you would never see the word “foodie” in my writing, yet here I am putting it in a title. In fact, the word foodie occurs 21 times in this piece. The writer in me hates this word; it’s a terrible use of language. Imagine if wine lovers referred to themselves as “winies.” Funny enough, Grammarly flagged foodie each time it was written in this article and suggested: “Consider using a different word.” Well done, Grammarly, well done.
Why Were Graham Crackers Invented?
The history of graham crackers is a tale of two men, neither of whom had anything to do with creating the popular cracker. Dr. Sylvester Graham, a preacher, and medical doctor is the namesake of the crackers, but Dr. John Kellogg, the lead physician at Kellogg’s cereal company, is the man responsible for their creation.
Brain Bigger than Your Stomach: Colour Psychology in Fast Food Restaurants
With fast food signs scattered all over the main streets, you can’t help but feel hungry. Is it simply your stomach being greedy? Not completely. Your subconscious, in truth, is making your mouth water too.
Gluten: Is it beneficial or harmful? Here’s how you can find out
Gluten, to the untrained palate, sounds like the name of some medieval king whose exploits are long forgotten by now. In actuality, gluten refers to a group of proteins found in common grains like wheat, rye, and barley. And while you may think that gluten is something you can live without if you’re on a diet or suffering from an ailment like celiac disease, experts aren’t so sure that it’s as harmless as you might believe it to be.
Drinking In the 7th Ward
Ward 7-6 1½ ounces Old Overholt rye whiskey ½ ounce Sherry (house blend) ½ ounce cranberry "grenadine" ½ ounce fresh-squeezed lemon juice ¼ ounce fresh-squeezed orange juice 1 dash Orange bitters 1 dash Angostura bitters
6 Ways to Celebrate National Cherry Month
So, are you ready for 6 ways to celebrate National Cherry Month? With the days getting longer next month; Washington DC hosts a Cherry Blossom Festival from March 26th to April 16th.
Picnics in the Cold
I'm not quite white enough for White people, and barely brown enough for Mexicans, but I identify more with my Mexican half. I don't have to think hard about why. It's the food. Food is the glue of my Sonoran Mexican family and heritage. It's the chorizo and egg burritos my grandma made and wrapped in tin foil, that I think of every time I take a road trip. It's the tamale making on Christmas eve that carries on family tradition. It's the menudo and pazole I make when it's cold, that remind me of my aunts and uncles. My dad's homemade beef jerky takes me back to my immigrant grandfather's house where he hung meat from a cow that broke her leg on the ranch, on outdoor lines to dry in the Arizona heat. Even on the other side of my family, I can't help but think of my grandmother, a badass single mom of six - including a special needs child, at a time when society didn't recognize special needs - every time I eat potato salad with eggs. Food is the glue of my memories.