Short but, I think, thought provoking. On a small scale. A question popped into my head the other day and the more I thought about it, the more and more curious I got. So, here it is:

What is your least favorite thing to prepare?

For me, it’s salad. Love to eat it, hate to make it. You have to wash each leaf, dry them (not easy) or spin them in a salad spinner (another thing to wash), break or cut them up, chop up your other stuff … and, in the end, all you have to show for it is a salad.

Now, I refer to your basic green salad with a few extras, like carrots, celery, tomatoes, cucumbers, and maybe olives. (And, really, it’s mostly the lettuce part that annoys me.) Other kinds of salads are fine with me to make. Tomato and mozzarella salad—no problem. Apple-Walnut salad—great. It’s that basic salad I hate to make.

So, what’s your least favorite thing to prepare?

Okay, gang. Stay safe and dry, and I’ll see you next week.

Mind you, I’ve seen–and even made–bread made out of cassava, but not what is known on the market as “cassava bread.” This particular product is dry, flat, and cracker-like. It’s quite plain and is meant to be eaten as an accompaniment to meats and stews. I asked my Dominican friend at work about that because the package says that it’s imported from the Dominican Republic. (What’s funny is that the store where I bought it had it stacked on a shelf in the produce aisle. Um, sure. You know, plantains, potatoes, and cassava bread all go together, right?)

She warned me that it’s very plain, and she was right. The texture was dry and hard, and the flavor (if it can be called that) is that of saltless toast. But that makes sense. When eating a spicy stew or sauce-covered meat, this bread is probably just right as a counter balance. I tried mine with tomatoes and olive oil, like a bruschetta. It wasn’t bad. It probably does better when left to soak up stew juices, though.

Cassava, by the way, also goes by the names yuca, manioc, and tapioca. It’s a staple food for South America, the Caribbean, Southeast Asia, and Africa, and it can be used fresh (i.e., the root) or as a flour (sometimes called tapioca starch). It’s a creamy white root, very starchy, and pretty bland. But it cooks up like a potato and is extremely versatile. It’s not the prettiest root in town, but it’s filling and is a great vehicle for all kinds of flavors, And, yes, it’s the same tapioca they use to make tapioca pearls from. That’s what you need for pudding and bubble tea.

Have you ever eaten cassava bread? How did/do you eat it? I love to learn about how ethnic foods are eaten, so please share.

Well, another week has gone. And the summer’s almost gone, too. Can’t believe it. Enjoy it while it lasts, folks. Have a great week.

This past week, Melynda told me that she was going to be cooking for an impromptu wedding for her friend and that she would be making mehndi (henna tattoo) cupcakes instead of a wedding cake. I just about fell off my chair when I read that. And I thought, “Yes! That is what I want you to write about.” So, without further ado, here is my fabulous guest, Melynda Huskey, and her cupcakes.

Mehndi and Marigold Wedding Cupcakes

My life as a cook, which started in first grade with white sauce (and why?  I blame my maternal great-grandmother, a turn-of-the-century scientific homemaker whose brooding influence on our dusting, laundry-folding, and canning has not been one whit diminished by more than 40 years of death), has been always been punctuated by unpredictably intense states of obsession with achieving some perfect culinary object.  For five years I was a burden to my friends as I sought the perfect sugar cookie.   Before that, it was the perfect French Breakfast Roll (a sugar-and-cinnamon dipped muffin sacred to my childhood).  Sandwich bread.  Pie crust.  Jalapeno Creamed Spinach. One by one, I’ve nailed them, after arduous labor.

Except vanilla cupcakes.

I’m well known, in a small-town way, for my cupcakes. Everyone who has eaten my cooking has had a cupcake, and mostly, they’ve loved them.  Which would be great, of course, except that, honestly?  Not an achievement.  It’s just the soft tyranny of low expectations, to coin a phrase. Like a curly-headed child actor, all a cupcake has to do is show up in a cute outfit and wave.

But that’s not enough for me.  I want CUPCAKE.  Like this:  Perfectly mounded tops, with a sugary-crisp crust that yields to the teeth with just a hint of modest reluctance.  A moist, tender, clinging crumb, and a spongy, springy texture.  Yellow like a buttercup, a primrose, a bowl of thickly-clotted cream.  And with a fragrance of vanilla, butter, and first love.

The essence of cupcake.  It has eluded me for years. It has become my Holy Grail.

Three weeks ago, I found out that two dear friends had decided to get married, more or less on the spur of the moment—except they were going to have to do it at least twice, to accommodate everybody else’s physical, legal, and familial geography, and neither performance was going to suit them much.

“Come to our house,” I said. “We’ll have a nice picnic, Joan’s got her internet ministerial credentials, and . . .”

“You’ll make cupcakes??” asked the bride with a gleam in her eye, who once told a roomful of people that if I made cupcakes out of dirt, she’d be first in line to get one.

What else? Three weeks to the perfect cupcakes.  The happy couple had no wishes, although when I pressed her, the bride thought it would be fine if the cakes matched her outfit—turquoise and chocolate brown.

That was not enough for me.  These cupcakes needed to be perfect.  I wanted them to reflect the incredibly quirky, fraught, hilarious, geeky, adorable bride and groom, and their sweet, self-conscious devotion.  Somehow I wanted the cupcakes to contain every cool, weird, unpredictable thing that I love about these two.

Inspired by the bride’s gorgeous Indian silk stole, I settled on marigolds, the traditional Indian wedding flower, and turquoise-frosted cakes piped with bridal henna designs in chocolate frosting.  And the cake, snagged at the last moment from the King Arthur Flour website, uses a technique as off-center as my friends and as sweet.  Not perfect, but real—just like them.

Adorably Odd Vanilla Cupcakes (freely adapted from King Arthur Flour’s Golden Vanilla Cake)

Two hours or so before you want to make your cake, take out all the ingredients and line them up on the counter to reach room temperature.  When you start mixing the cake, preheat the oven to 350 F.

2 cups sugar
3 ¼ cups all-purpose unbleached flour
2 ½ teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
¾ cup (1 ½ sticks) butter
1 ¼ cups milk
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 teaspoon high-quality bourbon
4 large eggs

Sift the dry ingredients into the mixer bowl.  On low speed, beat in the very soft butter.  It’ll look and feel like you could make a great sand castle with it. Pour in the milk, vanilla, and bourbon and mix at medium speed for one minute.

Add the eggs one at a time, beating thoroughly between each addition.

Fill your paper-lined cupcake tins about 2/3 full.  You should easily get 24 cupcakes.  I got 2 dozen plus an 8” square pan that the kids ate at snack time. Bake them about 20 minutes, but watch them carefully in the last few minutes.  Nothing is sadder than a dry, overbaked cuppie.

Frost however you like.

Anyway, I’ve decided that it’s time to whip something up for the gang and show them what I can do. I’ve been thinking all week about what should I should make. I have to choose wisely because the first time should be special. The first time sets the tone for future offerings.

Co-workers will always remember the first food you bring in for them. If it’s good the first time, they’ll expect all your food to be good. Conversely, if it’s bad the first time, don’t be surprised if the next time they sniff and inspect it before eating it. Plus, I think that the outcome of the first experience psychologically sets them up to either like or dislike subsequent dishes. In other words, if they expect it to be good or bad, they will find it good or bad, despite what the reality might be.

So, what will it be? Cookies? Brownies? Chocolate chip muffins? It’s too soon for “real” food. That comes later, after I’ve established a food rapport with my co-workers, after I’ve planted it in their heads that it’s okay to try my dishes, to take a chance on something “new.”

I’d be interested in hearing stories about foods you’ve brought in to your co-workers and their reactions. Please feel free to leave a comment.

In the meantime, I’m going to look through my cookbooks for ideas. It’s been a while since I’ve fed a crowd. This might just be the thing I need to get myself back on track.

So, that’s it for me this week. Hope everyone has a great week.

peace

I’ve never experienced a time when I’ve had no time to cook, at least on the weekends. The circumstances of my life have changed in numerous ways over the past year or so, which has changed what I am able to do with my time. Most recently, about two months ago, I started a new job after being unemployed for a year and a half. And a direct result of that is that I have almost no time to cook. Over the past two months, I’ve relied almost exclusively on my mother’s leftovers. See, my brother and I usually go each Saturday to have lunch with my parents. Mom cooks for 28 people, even though it’s just the four of us. As you can imagine, we take home lots of leftovers. And it’s great. I love my mother’s cooking and all I have to do when I get home from work is pop some in the toaster oven, or into a pan, or in the microwave (notice I listed that last).

But it’s frustrating when one loves to cook but simply doesn’t have the time. It also impacts your diet (if you’re on one) because you lose control of what you’re eating. Fortunately, my mom’s leftovers are generally on the healthy side, but it’s still a challenge putting together a breakfast and lunch menu that I can easily take to work. A few times, I’ve had to go out and buy lunch, which is dangerous for me.

This past weekend (Memorial Day), I actually had time to cook and set myself up for the week. I cooked a big pot of vegetarian chile, some veggie burritos, a veggie frittata, and some millet to go with the chile. Now, I have some still in the fridge and some in the freezer for future desperate times. And now I plan on starting a diet next week. I mean, a real diet. So I have to do some real preparing.

I have to figure something out, figure out a way to get some more cooking in. Maybe I just need a little more time to settle back into a routine. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Have a great week, everyone.

Peace.

I recently started a full-time job, which means that I’ve had to start packing my breakfast and lunch again. I haven’t had to do that in a long time and it’s taking me a while to get back into the rhythm of doing that. I need to get back into that “think ahead for the week” mode.

This week, in particular, was a stupid food week for me. Tuesday was Administrative Assistant/Secretary/Support Staff Day (whatever you want to call it) and the managers in my department said that they were going to do a breakfast party. So I didn’t bring breakfast. Fine. I then found out that they were ordering lunch, too. So I put my lunch in the fridge and partook of the lunch, which they ordered from a local Spanish restaurant—BBQ chicken, yellow rice, beans, and fried bananas. It was really good. There was also orange juice, which one manager said to please drink because she’d forgotten to take it out at breakfast. I need juice to take my 223 vitamins and herbs. So I put my own juice in the fridge and drank the o.j. There was plenty the rest of the week, so my juice just sat there. Then, today the fridge had to get emptied for cleaning and I thought I was going to have to schlep my juice all the way home and all the way back again, but, fortunately, I remembered that my friend has her own little fridge in her office, so I stashed it in there. Never ate the fruit I brought because there was also fruit left over from breakfast. Today I bought lunch because I had to eat my cheese sandwich for breakfast because I had nothing to bring for breakfast and I was starving. Right after lunch, I remembered that I had taken out a batch of vegetarian chili from the freezer and I could’ve taken that. See what I mean? A stupid food week.

Some of you might find it strange that I would bring breakfast to work, but when you’re constantly trying to lose weight, this is an important strategy because when it’s morning and you’re hungry and looking around in Au Bon Pain at all those luscious muffins, crullers, and scones, they become just too tempting. A bagel is better, but there are so many carbs in a bagel, not to mention calories in the butter or cream cheese that you put on it. Toast is not enough—I’ll be ready to eat my arm off in an hour. Oatmeal and grits are good, but paying $3 for a bowl of it just doesn’t tickle me. Which brings me to the other reason I bring breakfast. If you spend $4 for breakfast every morning (including coffee), that’s $20 a week just for breakfast. For $20, I can buy a month’s worth of breakfast items.

Did I mention that there was cake at the Administrative Assistant/Secretary/Support Staff Day “breakfast?” Yeah, it was a Napoleon cake from a local Italian bakery. Also known in French as mille-feuille, a Napoleon cake is made of layers of flaky puff pastry and pastry cream. On top is a layer of icing, usually swirled with chocolate. If it’s done right, it is damn good. This cake was good. Damn good. So much for my diet. (Why, yes, there was someone there holding a gun to my head, forcing me to eat it. Thanks for asking.)

But my point was leftovers. Some people hate them. I love them. For the people who turn their noses up at them, I say as long as there are leftovers in the fridge, you’re guaranteed a good lunch and/or a quick, easy dinner. Some people are not fortunate enough to have “extra” food in the refrigerator. I appreciate a fresh meal, but I also am grateful to have more food than I can eat in one sitting.

Okay, that’s it for me this week. I wish good spring weather for everyone and a happy, safe weekend and week coming up. And may you always have plenty of leftovers. Peace.

If you ever find yourself in Boulder, CO, consider a tour of the Celestial Seasonings factory. Yes, the tea company.

It’s as simple as walking in asking for the tour. It’s free, and you can’t ask for more than that to kill an hour. Your ticket for the tour will be a Celestial Seasonings tea packet (mine was Lemon Zinger). There, in the tour center, you’ll find various displays, such as a dress made of CS tea packets, a collection of artistic teapots—some whimsical, some reverent of the tea leaf—and artwork. Here is where the CS Cafe is as well. You can purchase any of their specialty drinks and prepared foods, but you can also sample several varieties of tea absolutely free. The day I was there, I sampled warm Sleepytime Green Lemon Jasmine Decaf (yum), Safari Spice Rooibos Tea (spicy), Goji Berry Pomegranate (fruity and sweet), and their new Sleepytime Vanilla (light with just a hint of vanilla flavor). Over on the chilled side were Raspberry Sweet Zinger and Acai Mango Sweet Zinger, both  refreshing and quite tasty.

While you’re sipping away, you can read a little of the history of the company on one of the walls. Right below that is the actual sewing machine used to sew muslin tea bags (for loose bulk tea) in 1969.

Speaking of history, here’s a condensed timeline for Celestial Seasonings:

1968—CS is founded by Mo and Peggy Siegel, Wyck Hay, and Lucinda Ziesing, who picked their own herbs in the Rocky Mountains.

1970—The first CS production factory opens in Boulder, CO.

1982—CS is included in the top 100 companies to work for in America.

2000—CS merges with Hain Food Group and is now called Hain Celestial Group. This group includes numerous natural/organic food and personal care product lines, such as Arrowhead Mills, DeBoles pasta, Earth’s Best, Spectrum, Garden of Eatin’, Avalon Organics, Alba Botanica, and others.

2005—CS welcomes its one millionth visitor to its tour center.

The actual tour starts with a 15-minute video that explains (briefly) the history of tea and Celestial Seasonings, and the manufacturing process of CS. Next, you’re taken into the factory (after donning very sexy hair nets and, if needed, beard nets) to view how it all happens. The tour guide takes you through the tea and botanicals storage area and explains what tea is how they make their blends. And you’ll learn a few things about tea in general. For example—

* Black tea has the most caffeine, while green tea has the least (white tea is somewhere in between).
*Rooibos is not technically a tea because it isn’t related to the tea family.
*Herbal teas are not really teas, either. Any “real” tea will have caffeine in it.
*”Pekoe” means “tea leaf” and “orange pekoe” is just another term for black tea (according to my tour guide, it’s the English classification of black tea).

What you will notice is that as you move from area to area, just feet from each other, you are met with different aromas, setting off different olfactory experiences. The most dramatic of these will occur in the mint room. A door is raised and the second you step in, you are hit with the unmistakable aroma of peppermint and wintergreen. It’s quite fascinating because of the immediate ocular and nasal reactions—your eyes water and your nose starts to clear with that familiar cool sensation that comes from mint. It was much like inhaling a menthol stick (you know, the kind your mother used to make you inhale when you were sick). But it’s not at all unpleasant. In fact, there’s a soothing, relaxing quality to it (but if you’re allergic to mint or having breathing problems, you might want to stay out of that room).

It always fascinates me to watch products being assemble, packaged, and pushed down a series of machines and this time was no exception.They package 350 boxes of tea per minute on each line and make 10 million tea bags per day. I find that amazing. I’m provincial that way.

Best of all, CS produces its products with sustainable, earth-friendly, and farmer-friendly practices. They commission original artwork for each of their boxes and use low-impact packaging. Actually, the best part is all the yummy flavors they produce. You can purchase all their varieties (and other products) in their tea shop at the end of the tour at lower cost than elsewhere. (If you have trouble sleeping, you might want to try Sleepytime Extra, which contains valerian root. I tried it and it seemed to help with my insomnia.)

Interesting Tidbit: According the Guiness World Records, the largest tea bag was made by Celestial Seasonings. It weighed 48 kg (106 lbs) and was displayed at the Celestial Seasonings Tea Party in Toronto on December 15, 2007. They have the certificate on the wall to prove it.

The Celestial Seasonings factory and tour center is at 4600 Sleepytime Drive (cute, right?), Boulder, CO 80301. Tours depart hourly every day, 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. Mon-Sat and 11 a.m. to 3 p.m. Sun. For safety reasons, children under the age of 5 are not permitted in the factory. And you can have breakfast or lunch Mon-Fri. Visit www.celestialseasonings.com. For information and reservations (for groups of 8 or more), call 303-581-1202.

Okay, gang. That’s it for this week. Hope you all have a great week ahead. And if things get stressy, brew a pot of Tension Tamer. Relax and enjoy.

Peace.

In my part of the country (New York), summer has been a fleeting thing the past several years. I remember the days when it was hot in May, and it would stay sunny and hot throughout June, July, August, and even September. Now, it’s cold and rainy through June, then we finally get some heat and sunshine in July. By September, it’s already cooling off. Just last week, New York experienced an unbelievable wind and rain storm that left hundreds of broken umbrellas lining the streets like blankets. And look what’s going on in the rest of the world: earthquakes, tsunamis, tornadoes. Global warming, people, is messing with us.

So, with the weather making us all crawl back inside and hibernate, my mind turns to the topic of comfort food. It’s funny how people consider many of the same things as comfort food.There are differences that have to do with the region or country you grew up in, the cultural make-up of your community, and your economic status growing up. (Of course, your heritage or nationality will play a huge role in this—someone who grew up in a Chinese household, for example, will have different ideas of comfort food than someone who grew up in an Indian household.)

Yet, despite these conditions, many things we consider comfort food in this country seem to be across the board: Mac ‘n’ cheese, anyone? What’s interesting is that restaurants are responding to this need for comfort food. One of the most prevalent crazes, in my opinion, of the past few years is the transformation of comfort foods into “gourmet cuisine.” Take that good ol’ mac ‘n’ cheese, for instance. Chefs are turning this favorite into a specialty by using different and/or multiple cheeses (sometimes expensive ones) or enhancing its depth by employing different cooking methods. And by adding new ingredients, chefs can change the flavor profile. Some green chiles will turn it into a Southwest dish; Indian spices will yield curried mac ‘c’ cheese; and use some shaved truffles for a decidedly French twist. In fact, you can add just about anything to macaroni and cheese to turn it into your own personal dish. I like the idea of veggies. If you’re a meat-eater, you can add ground beef, chicken, or turkey. How about shredded salmon or tuna? Mac ‘n’ cheese is pretty wide-open to interpretation. (I really wouldn’t add Reese’s Pieces or Skittles or anything like that, though.)

However, I must say at this point that because of my background—that is, my Old World Italian upbringing—mac ‘n’ cheese was not something I grew up with. So, while it has become the occasional comfort food for me, it’s really not the first thing I think of when I want something comforting . For me, it’s simple noodle soup or a grilled cheese sandwich.

How about you? I’d love to hear what you all consider comfort food. What do you turn to when you need a bit of warmth, comfort, and security? And if you can tell me why those particular foods, I’d absolutely love it. (I love finding out the origins of things, especially when it comes to eating habits.) So, please leave a comment. That would be awesome. In the meantime, here’s a recipe for Macaroni and Cheese with Proscuitto and Taleggio, from Bon Appetit, March 2002, and a recipe for Macaroni and Cheese with Garlic Bread Crumbs, Plain and Chipotle, originally appearing in Gourmet (R.I.P), December 1999. Enjoy!

Okay, everyone. Here’s hoping we’ve seen the last of winter nastiness, wherever you are, and that spring will arrive very soon. I think we all need it.

Ciao.

It is absurd. How dare the government tell restaurants what they can and can’t cook with? We’re talking salt here, not heroin. This is a matter of personal choice and personal resolution.

According to a Nation’s Restaurant News report, Ortiz said, “In this way, consumers have more control over the amount of sodium they intake, and are given the option to exercise healthier diets and healthier lifestyles.”

Really, Mr. Ortiz? People also have the option to stay home and control their intake of everything. No one is putting a gun to anyone’s head to eat out in restaurants.

This is really not the same thing as the trans-fat ban of a couple of years ago. No one benefits from trans-fat and everyone suffers. Salt is a different matter. Yes, there are people who have high blood pressure, heart disease, and other health issues that require them to cut down on salt. But that is something that people with such issues need to deal with themselves. You can’t expect the dining experience of every person in New York State to be altered because a few can’t have salt. A person with salt issues needs to tell their servers to tell the cooks to hold the salt. If the dish is pre-made and salt is already in it, then the patron must choose something else or go somewhere else.

I’m not saying that good food can’t be made without salt. I know plenty of people who do it. But a little salt goes a long way. A little is necessary to make food taste good. Seriously, without salt, restaurants might as well throw a piece of wet cardboard at their customers.

Restaurants are not obligated to accommodate special dietary needs. Mind you, I’m not saying that they shouldn’t. On the contrary, they absolutely should. After all, if you make a patron happy, they’ll keep coming back. (To those chefs who refuse to alter a dish at a patron’s request because you think that you’ve created the most spectacular dish that is so perfect that it must be served as is, I say, get off your high horse and give your customer what she/he wants. Everyone’s taste is different and you’re running a business. If you piss off your customers, they won’t come back to your establishment. And guess what? You’re making food, not squeezing gold nuggets out of your butt.)

And I’m not unsympathetic to people with special needs. I think it’s awesome that restaurants are now offering menus that include gluten-free , lo-cal, , lo-fat, lo-carb options. That’s the way you get and keep business. My point is that they are not obligated to do so. I know people who have wheat allergies. Do they expect restaurants to use nothing but wheat-free products? Of course not. If they go somewhere where wheat-free isn’t an option, they bring (when possible) their own wheat-free buns, tortillas, etc. Should people with Celiac disease go around telling Italian restaurants that they can’t use breadcrumbs in their meatballs? Should people with shellfish allergies tell Southeast Asian restaurants to stop using fish sauce? It is up to the individual to make choices about their own meals and their own intake.

This legislation would fine restaurants $1,000 for each violation. Perhaps our society would be better served if people took control of their own eating habits (and those of their children) and lived  healthier lifestyles instead of penalizing restaurants. This is akin to blaming McDonald’s for serving french fries. Maybe they should start going after manufacturers of food products that use high-fructose corn syrup, or hormones, or adulterated ingredients. Why don’t they put more effort into that instead of telling restaurants that they can’t use a natural product that has been used for thousands of years?

From Initial Impressions (www.initial-impressions.net)

By the way, National Geographic News reported on March 17, 2009, that a study has linked salt to happiness. In the article, “Is Salt Nature’s Antidepressant?”, author Helen Fields poses the question, “Could Salt be the Solution to a Sad, Empty Life?” Possibly. The study showed that sodium-deprived rats take less pleasure in daily activities (“they can’t be bothered to drag themselves across the cage to push a bar that releases a dose of sugar water”) but when they’re given back their salt, “they’re all happy,” physiologist Alan Johnson of the University of Iowa said. And “very low sodium in rats, humans, and other land animals may induce something similar to depression,” he added. The study also linked a  healthy salt intake to reduced symptoms for chronic fatigue sufferers. (Article HERE.)

So, as someone with Epstein-Barr syndrome (a fatigue-inducing illness similar to Chronic Fatigue) who’s prone to bouts of depression, I insist that restaurants continue to use salt!!

So, there you have it. This week’s political stupidity (we never seem to run out, do we?) Have a great week, everyone.

Whether you prefer Wise’s Cheez Doodles or Frito Lay’s Cheetos, or those little, round orangy balls that they sell in those gigantic plastic tubs and try to pass off as cheese doodles, this is a snack food that seems to live on and on. It’s associated with kids’ parties and backyard barbecues, and if you serve it at a party, it’s considered (pardon the pun) cheesy. Yet, we can’t help ourselves, can we? I don’t know about you, but I find it impossible to control my hand when it reaches for the bowl of the bright orange oddities. No matter how good my intentions are when I go to a party, no matter how determined I am to stick to the crudites and fruit salad, my hand just moves away from my body and makes a beeline for those cheese doodles. Damn hand! It’s all your fault I have weight issues!

Personally, my favorite kind are the crunchy ones. Sure, I like the puffy kind now and then. But put those crunchy things in front of me and I’m in trouble. And if I’m PMSing, those suckers don’t stand a chance around me.

How are cheese doodles made? It has to do with pushing the ingredients through an extractor, thereby adding air to it. But that leaves the question of crunchy cheese doodles open. Hmm. I’ll have to investigate that.

Let’s face it, cheese doodles have become part of our culture. I’m not sure why, but they have. I think a generation of kids have grown up thinking that cheese is spelled “cheez.” And that Chester Cheetah over at Frito Lay is one bad ass, huh?

Have you ever seen a cheese doodle sculpture? Has it ever entered your mind to do a cheese doodle sculpture? Probably not. But it did enter the mind of artist Philip Greenspun. So, he did it. And it was displayed at the Lapides Gallery in Santa Fe, NM, in 1994. Check it out.

Courtesy of Philip Greenspun

Wanna see a Cheetos portrait of Conan O’Brien? Here’s the artist in action:

Check out this cheese doodle compilation. It’s weird but fascinating: Tribute to the Cheese Snack

So, another week has gone by  and so has another month. I hope everyone has a great week ahead. And in the immortal words of Eric Cartman from South Park, “I want some cheesy poofs!”