Welcome to my entirely-KFC-Double-Down-related blog!

No, I’m kidding, but my friend Mike sent me this video of him eating three Double Downs stacked on top of one another, and how could I not share it?

The worst part for me isn’t, as you might expect, the way the chicken parts sort of slop around on top of each other and threaten to shoot that middle Double Down across the room at high speeds to be eaten by their pet bunny. No, it’s the way the second grilled Double Down pulls away from the wrapper, leaving behind all of this glorious Wrapper Cheese, and then he just wads up the paper and tosses it aside. Painful to watch.

I’m in full Double Down crave mode right now. WHY DID YOU HAVE TO CLOSE DOWN, KFC NEAR MY OFFICE?!

I was picking up some salads from the Midtown East neighborhood gem Boi Sandwich yesterday, looking around the restaurant so the guy making my food didn’t feel like I was eagle-eying him to make sure he gave me enough pork, when I noticed a bag of chips that I must have noticed a million times before.

And yet this time, when I looked at the logo on the bag, all I could see were potatoes wearing loose condoms:

I tried to unsee it. I mean, it’s clearly potatoes with their ends sliced off, right? Where the first slice is the tip?

And yet. Condoms.

I’m one of Foodbuzz’s Top 9 today! Thanks to my wd-50 review from yesterday and the apparently half-decent photo I took of the chocolate hazelnut tart. I’m totally surprised, flattered, and ecstatic.

Check out the photo and the strangely thrilling comment I got on it from one of my favourite faux-vintage clothing sites. I guess it just goes to show that everyone likes looking at food.

Evidently finally seeing my review of our first dinner at wd~50 made my boyfriend crave some foams and powders, so before we left for Christmas vacation in our respective home states, we made a reservation to return. The only time we could get on Saturday night, even with a few weeks notice, was 6 p.m. Which means that despite the terrible economy, New Yorkers are still lining up to pay $200 each for dinner.

We were oddly seated in the same exact table as last time, which happens to have a straight view into the kitchen, where we saw chef/owner Wylie Dufresne talking to Chef de Cuisine Jon Bignelli (who we recently saw on an episode of “Chopped” on the Food Network) all night. We started off with a couple of their inventive cocktails to give me the courage to eat the many fish courses (CAVIAR?!) that were coming our way, and then we ate:

Red snapper, pickled taro, wakame (seaweed), dandelion coulis

All of these things on their own–meh. All of these things together in one bite–harmony.

Everything bagel ice cream, smoked salmon threads, crispy cream cheese

That’s right–the second dish was ice cream. Perfectly flavored and made to look like a tiny everything bagel. The salmon had the consistency of a Brillo pad, but I didn’t find that to be entirely unpleasurable. The crunchy cream cheese shard really excited me but was sadly entirely lacking in flavor. Next time, I’m asking for a warm cream cheese drizzle over my bagel.

Foie gras with passion fruit center, chinese celery

We just loved the way the passion fruit spilled out like an egg yolk. This was so rich it was almost hard to eat, which is exactly how I like my food. The passion fruit overpowered everything else, which was good for someone like me who isn’t completely sold on organ meats but probably bad for a foie gras connoisseur.

Scrambled egg ravioli, charred avocado, kindai kampachi

I somehow expected the egg cube to be cold, but the firm outside shell held a warm, almost custard-like eggy inside. Egg and avocado, it turns out, are wonderful bedmates.

Cold fried chicken, buttermilk ricotta, Tabasco and honey, American sturgeon caviar

Why is there caviar in my comfort food?! I didn’t think it necessarily added anything, and the dish sure didn’t need anything. The chicken appeared to be a terrine of dark and white meat, and the buttermilk ricotta was studded with the crispiest chicken skin.

Langoustine, licorice-style red pepper, black sesame, shiso

We both loved the way this tasted like it was poached in butter, but we agreed that it need some spice. The carpet of black sesame really made the dish.

Beef consommé and Bearnaise gnocchi

The menu simply said “beef and Bearnaise”, so I was looking forward to a hunk of flesh and some sauce to dip it in, but things are never that simple at wd~50. Despite the initial weirdness, this turned out to be the favourite savory dish for both of us.

Lamb loin, black garlic romesco, dried soybeans, basil

Dried soybeans should be in every dish. The crunch of them was so perfect with the melt-in-your-mouth lamb.

Spruce yogurt, shattered vanilla-mango ice cream, vanilla bean olive oil, mango

Yogurt that tastes like the forest? Yes, please! The spruce taste was so delicate–not nauseatingly pine-y, as we were expecting–that we needed to taste the yogurt on its own to catch it. I could’ve definitely gone for more of it, but I’m glad it didn’t slap me in the face.

Hazelnut tart, coconut, chocolate, chicory foam

Chicory is about as bitter as it comes on its own, but spread on top of the mousse-filled chocolate skin, it provided a great balance to all of the sweetness. And the salt on top! To think there was a time before salted chocolate. This was definitely my favourite dessert of the night.

Caramelized brioche, apricot seed shards, buttercream, lemon thyme sorbet

This was delicious, but the Degustation caramelized brioche has ruined me for all other caramelized brioches. Sorry, Wylie.

Cocoa packets, chocolate-shortbread-covered milk ice cream

The idea of milk ice cream is hilarious to us. So, um, you basically mean ice cream without any added flavorings, right? Thought so. It’s too bad that the cookie overpowered the ice cream, because I’d love to see what that tastes like. The classic chocolate packets–like Fruit Roll-Ups made out of chocolate–were actually better than we remembered them, even after I spilled half of the crunchy chocolate crumbs inside all over my lap.

The thing we think is funny about wd~50 is that the plate in front of you is generally full of familiar flavors, yet you know that the food on it went through several transformations involving plenty of chemicals. You have to ask yourself at some point, “Is it worth it?” I can understand why people who aren’t into novelty would make fun of this sort of food–expensive, tiny, laborious–but I just love the sort of deconstructionism of it. Beef consommé and Bearnaise gnocchi look and feel nothing like a steak with Bearnaise sauce, but they taste nearly identical, and you have to appreciate the craft that goes into that.

It kind of bothers me, actually, thinking that someone couldn’t like this meal. Once you get past the fact that nothing you’re eating looks like its original form, you have to admit that everything tastes great, and taste is obviously the most important attribute. When it comes to molecular gastronomy, I guess, an open mind is a prerequisite to an open mouth.

In the wake of Eating the Road‘s unapologetically gluttonous fast food romp, the Big McSausage Egg Surf & Turf Mac, I feel confident that the Internet can handle my own Tower of Gorge:

click here for the full size, which is really, really enjoyable for a second until you think about it and puke

That’s two McDonald’s cheeseburgers, an everything bagel with garden vegetable cream cheese from Tim Horton’s, and a Pizza Hut personal pan pizza, topped off with extra pickles. The pumpkin pie milkshake that I followed it up with isn’t pictured but was heartily enjoyed. My total caloric intake for that meal alone and not including the Cheesecake Factory or Dairy Queen I no doubt had for dinner that night?

1631. And that’s based on the nutrition facts supplied by the various restaurants’ websites, which you know are severely underestimated.

You can’t really blame me, though. If NYC had more of the chain restaurants I love, I wouldn’t have to get all spastic every time I go home to Ohio for Thanksgiving. And Christmas. And the 4th of July. And my dad’s birthday. And my own birthday. And several random weekends throughout the year when I pretend to want to see my family and friends but really just want easy access to a Taco Bell.

I did just gulp a huge glass of water after writing this out of guilt, though, if that makes you feel any better.

If you, like me, are saddened by your ability to only purchase egg nog one month out of the year, this is your lucky day. After seeing less apathy more cake‘s photo of it on Chains of Love, I decided I probably couldn’t survive the week without tasting Burger King’s new Cupcake Sundae Shake.

I first tried the BK website, which doesn’t list it on the nutritional information with the other desserts. I then called the BK around the corner from my office, which didn’t pick up their phone. Finally, I spoke to a representative at BK headquarters, who helpfully informed me that it’s a national item that should be available at every location.

On Friday afternoon, some brave co-workers and I ventured out to the BK–which I had never been in up to this point but will now be visiting afternoonly–and to my surprise, actually found a whole sign for it showcased on the menu. New York City, unlike cities in my home state of Ohio, doesn’t seem to be a test market for anything, so whenever I hear about something awesome available in other states, I assume I’ll be able to find it in NYC in 6 months to never.

The only sizes were small and medium, which was a huge disappointment, because although I would’ve never ordered the large or extra-large, it’s important to me that gluttony is at my fingertips if I desire it. I requested the medium, but the cashier informed me only a small was available. And then promptly charged me for the medium, anyway.

It turns out that Burger King’s small is everyone else’s large–which I would’ve known was I a dedicated fast food eater like I should be–so it was perfect. The shake was yellow to accentuate the fact that it’s supposed to taste like yellow cake and had what I thought was an undersized dollop of whipped cream and a pathetic smattering of sprinkles on top.

It turns out that the whipped cream is so dense that it actually sinks into the shake. Even I, a person who claims no amount of sweetness is too intense, thought I could’ve been overwhelmed had there been more. It was like icing and was definitely the best part of the dessert.

The shake tasted really familiar to me, but I couldn’t decide why until I told my co-worker Steve that it was “eggy somehow”, and he asked, “Like egg nog?”

OH, CRAP. Life could not get any better.

It’s an Auntie Anne’s pretzel wrapped around a Nathan’s hot dog, and I ate it at the airport, which is really the only place you should be able to find a hot dog wrapped in a pretzel. This one only had 310 calories and 20 grams of fat, so I can’t wait to find a place that sells the JUMBO pretzel dog so I can get the full 600-calorie experience.

I will be dipping that one in cheese sauce and wrapping a slice of pizza around each bite, justyouwaitandsee.

No, I don’t care much for baseball. But I do care for baseball games.

And this is why:

At the same old-timey German deli where Dr. Boyfriend and I found the fish balls, we also found the sweetest little marzipan pig:

The two of them were fast friends and couldn’t be separated for approximately three hours. And then we bit his head off.

Wikipedia claims that marzipan is from Iran, but my Persian boyfriend had never tasted it. I myself have only had it a few times in my life, because I don’t really understand it. I mean, almond flavor is fine and everything, but I’m American, and I demand that all of my desserts involve chocolate and peanut butter.

This is my best friend, Tracey, very sexily enjoying a pickle at Cozy Soup ‘n’ Burger on Broadway in the West Village, my absolute favourite burger joint in the entire world.

Or pretending to enjoy it, at least. That’s because Cozy, like most other New York City diners, serves half-sour pickles. These are pickles that have been cured in a lower-salt brine so that they don’t ever become full-on delicious dills but remain nearly cucumbers.

Cucumber-lovers seem to like half-sours because they taste sweeter than the regular full-sour pickles you find in stores. But for people like me who only dine on cukes in sushi joints because they’re less gross than fish, a pickle in limbo is not a pleasant thing.