The Still-Hungry Largesse Denounces Tapas

I don’t know when it happened, precisely.  At some point, a group of people must have gotten together and decided that while they enjoyed eating great food, they would probably enjoy it even more if they could have no more than five bites of that particular dish.  Or even three, if the “friend” sitting next to you decided that you would share your choices with each other.  We at The Largesse have considered this matter carefully and extensively, and we have decided to say, “Fuck you, tapas.”

The Random Largesse Recommends Chopped

The first season of Chopped ended recently with very little fanfare.  This is likely because the only people that continue to watch the Food Network are related to, or employed by, Bobby Flay.  Do we need five different shows dedicated to Bobby Flay and his grill?  I mean, look, I dig Throwdown and in general I find his work on Iron Chef to be quite entertaining, but by no means should this guy be the lynchpin of the Food Network.  He can barely read for Christ’s sake.  Seriously, the sea change of Food Network personalities over the past few years is downright loathsome.  Fire the fucking Neely’s, forget about Big Daddy’s House, blow up Guy Fieri’s car, and someone, please, choke Paula Dean with a stick of butter – you know that’s how she’d want to go anyway, peacefully, caked in oleo.  Obviously you keep Giada (she’s smart) and the entire cast of Ace of Cakes (best marathon going on the Food Network).  Everyone else can defect with Emeril for all I care and find a more eco-friendly home on Planet Green.  Yup, that channel exists.

The Epicurean Largesse Recommends the Chipwich

I am not one to take ice cream delicacies lightly. Nor do I have the time or the inclination to explain to you how important it is that you eat a Chipwich immediately, if not sooner. They’re that good. Truly divine. But look, you can’t settle; please do not run out there and buy a Nestle Toll House Chocolate Chip Cookie Sandwich. You might as well eat a stick of butter, then punch yourself in the mouth with a cookie dough fist. And please, don’t come back and tell me you got a Chocolate Chip Sandwich from some second rate, has-been, Good Humor ice cream truck. These frozen atrocities represent the worst of the ice cream industry’s most seriously flawed decisions – along with ostracizing Carvel, the frozen Egg Nog movement, and allowing Ben and Jerry to use ice cream to reinforce their pithy, societal “observations.”

The Hungry Largesse Denounces Arby’s

Arby’s became a player in the fast food game because they did one thing about as well as you could do it: the Beef’n Cheddar.  Beef and cheese, together, on a toasted bun: it is all you needed.  The cheese was served with a spoon, the beef was medium rare and greasy, and the bun was buttery.  Eat ten, wash ‘em down with a few curly fries, the special BBQ and Horsey sauces, and a fine, fountain Pepsi product.  God damn it, I would drink the shit out of that fountain Pepsi after a few Beef’n Cheddars. So. Fucking. Good.