On Fridays I post a series of questions meant to spark conversation in the comments. Answer one question, answer all, reply to someone else. On to this week's topics of discussion!
1. According to VPI, which provides insurance for pets, they received 6500 claims for animals ingesting foreign objects in 2011, including deer antlers, a G.I. Joe action figure, a cassette tape, and a foot-long metal hanger. One dog even ate more than 100 rocks! So: What's the weirdest thing your pet has ever eaten?
2. What's your major? (Thanks to reader Matthew McKee for submitting this question!)
3. Baz Luhrmann's film adaptation of The Great Gatsby hits theaters today. What beloved book has been adapted on screen before, but deserves a new version? (My vote for this would be John Irving's A Prayer for Owen Meany, which was adapted into a movie called Simon Birch.)
4. The floor is yours! If you have a question for your fellow _flossers, ask away—and have a great weekend!
As a kid, rhubarb played a pivotal role in my life. It was a literal role, actually. One on the stage. If you're acting in a crowd scene, someone told me, and everyone mumbles, "Rhubarb, rhubarb, rhubarb," it sounds from the audience like there are lots of real conversations going on. This is a big deal to a 12 year old in a school play.
What, did you think I was going to say that every summer I used to pick rhubarb with my grandmother from her backyard garden, and then she'd teach me how to navigate life while we baked pies in the steamy, rustic kitchen? Well I wasn't. And I didn't. And that's fine. Or at least I thought it was fine until I started a food blog five years ago and realized that without a steamy, rustic, rhubarb-infused past, I had no street cred whatsoever. And that regardless of how many times I'd said "rhubarb" in a school play, no one would ever trust me.
That's why, no joke, the first guest post I ever ran on my blog was about someone else's experiences picking rhubarb and making pies with her grandmother. It's also why I've gotten a little aggressively handsy with rhubarb in the ensuing years. Fake it 'til you make it, and by "it" I mean rhubarb pie.
Or rhubarb juice. This recipe is so simple (just rhubarb and water!) and so genuine and pure that it might just make up for all those years of lost childhood. It's wildly international, too, having come to me in London via an Australian friend from her Canadian friends, who served it at a lazy weekend brunch a few weeks ago. Wildly international has got to count for something.
My friend couldn't stop talking about how good it was, and how deceptively simple. And I totally agree. Not, of course, that anyone would ever take my word for it.
About the author:Carolyn Cope is the voice behind the popular food and lifestyle blog Umami Girl, where she'll soon be releasing a free e-book filled with easy ways to incorporate more healthy, plant-based foods into your life. She is equal parts live-to-eat and eat-to-live and currently does both from London.
This month, Slate is republishing some of our favorite stories. Here's today's selection: This year has relentlessly offered itself as proof that the human heart is small and hard. This classic 2009 essay by Emily Yoffe is all the proof you need of the opposite. —Lowen Liu
My name is Tinker and I am a four month old Golden Collie. Most people think I'm a Golden Retriver but if you look a little closer I have white socks on all my feet and my tail. I love to run around and herd birds, showing off my inner Border Collie. However, I also like to sleep lots and please my owner like a retriever. Sometimes I'm lucky and get on my owners' bed but mostly in my basket. I know all the tricks in the book--my favorite is roll over. Sometimes I get so excited I get confused and twirl in circles though. Dinner time is my favorite time of the day, especially because I know we go for a walk afterwards. I also love to watch TV and chew on cardboard (which is great because I know my owners wouldn't like me to eat their shoes) and when I'm on my own I like to find a dressing gown and curl up.
Look a little tougher while baking with the Tattoo Oven Mitt. The lightweight mitt is adorned with a sleeve of intimidating tattoos, that’ll help make you look tough when reaching into the oven. Even if it’s for a quiche. Available here.
"Malicious mischief" doesn't sound like a strong enough crime for bulldozing down 4 of your neighbor's houses because you were mad
A Port Angeles man damaged four houses after he drove his bulldozer through them. At least one vehicle was also destroyed. The Clallam County Sheriff's Office said the man was "irate with neighbors." The man was booked into jail for malicious mischief. A major power outage was caused after Bonneville Power Administration lines were tripped. Power has been restored to al...
Disney tried to trademark the very popular traditional holiday, Day of the Dead, but after an outcry on social media, the company withdrew their application.
LAKEPORT, Calif. -- Scott and Robin Spivey had a sinking feeling that something was wrong with their home when cracks began snaking across their walls in March.The cracks soon turned into gaping fractures, and within two weeks their 600-square-foot garage broke from the house and the entire property — manicured lawn and all — dropped 10 feet below the street.It wasn't long before the houses o...
The trick to making something great with ramps is finding ramps in the first place. If you happen to live in the Northeastern United States, that's pretty darn easy this time of year. Hit your local farmers' market or even your local Whole Foods and you're bound to run into them—for a price, that is.
If you happen to live out in the country, you may even be lucky enough to have some growing right in your own back yard. If you do, just make sure that you only harvest them lightly—if you clean out a patch, they won't be coming back next year.
The idea is as simple as the execution: crisp up some chorizo in a pan to render out the fat, then cook some ramps in that rendered fat. Combine the ramps, the chorizo, and some grated cheese.
Spread that mixture out on top of half a flour tortilla and fold it up to sandwich it (this method works a lot better than the sandwiched-between-two-tortillas method which inevitably leads to messy flipping).
Fry the sucker in plenty of hot oil (so that it browns and puffs as it cooks. You could, if you want, also grill it).
Pull him out and let him rest. And notice that crisp crust of fried cheese around the edge while you're at it. This is a feature, not a bug.
Once slightly cooled, cut 'em into triangles and serve.
It takes only a few minutes start to finish, it's cheesy, crispy, gooey, and packed with fresh ramp flavor. What more could you want out of a spring snack, huh?
Recessed from Chicago Avenue and behind an entrance that would give your average abbot door envy, Old Oak Tap is an altar where Ukranian Village brunchers come to pray. Despite its high ceilings and general expanse, Old Oak Tap manages to pull off a friendly, intimate vibe that makes it perfect for weddings, for which the place can be rented. Sure, it's no White Castle, but I suppose with its stone fireplace and skylights, it would suffice in a pinch. Or you can just go for dinner—that works, too, and works quite nicely.
The mason jars ($9) are a good way to start. Roasted eggplant, sun-dried tomato, herbed feta, and roasted red pepper tapenade are layered into the glass receptacles and served with grilled Tuscan bread. You get the saltiness of the feta first, the sweetness of the tomatoes, and then the long, bitter finish of the eggplant. The grilled Tuscan bread is good, though the buttering seems unnecessary; I'd just as soon have it straight up. It is served straight out of the fridge (note the jar), but I wouldn't have minded a few extra degrees on it. But don't be shy—it's one of the few times I've had the problem of not enough bread to keep up with the dip.
The togarashi crusted ahi tuna nicoise ($12) is a real highlight. I'm not much of a salad guy in general, but if you're going to have one, this is the one to get. The salad portion of baby spinach, chopped egg, cherry tomatoes, black olives, new potatoes, and green beans all work well together, and the Dijon vinaigrette is just savory enough. But the tuna is, rightfully so, the centerpiece. Beautifully seared, tender, and legitimately spicy thanks to the togarashi crust, it is excellent.
The fat boy pie ($10) is a pie in the same sense that sweetbreads are actual breads. Probably because they didn't know what else to call it, this gift that keeps on giving is a mound of pulled pork, sharp cheddar, tomatoes, spring onions, black olives, and green goddess dressing on top of mashed potatoes, and then topped with French fries. Clearly designed with hangovers in mind, it is salty and filling. The fries retain their crispiness, sitting atop the mountain. Dig a little deeper and you'll find some sweet pulled pork and melted cheese. The tomatoes don't add a whole lot, but they sure are red. The spring onions are nice, but a bit too sparse, whereas the green goddess is appropriately sparingly applied. The potatoes are creamy and rich, but literally at the bottom of the pile here. It's a big trainwreck of a dish, and I mean that in the tastiest way possible.
The flavor of the Tempura battered green beans ($8) is fine, and the batter is nice and light, but though the food came out quickly, the beans were not quite hot enough. Having had plenty of tempura while living in Japan, I am admittedly a little finicky. An integral part of the tempura experience, much like going into a hot spring, was reacting to the scalding. These could have benefitted from another minute in the fryer. Also, the ginger soy dipping sauce is overly sweet; something wasabi-based perhaps would have been nice.
Old Oak Tap is a good place for groups. The varied seating options allow you to customize your own intimacy level, from the quiet fireplace lounging area to the din of patio furniture in the biergarten-esque front. It is also kid-friendly, if you are into that. They have a decent craft beer selection and do beer flights, if you are into that. The portions are large, made to share, and it's a great place to laze away a Sunday afternoon.
Old Oak Tap
2109 West Chicago Avenue, Chicago, IL 60622 (map)
773-772-0406
theoldoaktap.com
Josh Conley is single-handedly trying to re-introduce the verb beget into the everyday lexicon. He traveled to Easter Island one Christmas out of sheer irony. He excises a hefty syntax, and shamelessly promotes the color orange. His wife begat him two small children that he regularly belittles HERE.
Last summer, Minnesota kiddie band Y.N. Rich Kids owned ears and the Internet with their single “Hot Cheetos & Takis.” Despite its six million plays on YouTube, though, the members of the group never really saw any money.
Thankfully, the group has released two new songs, both of which are so, so great and will hopefully blow up and pay for college for all these little rugrats. First up is “My Bike,” which has a menacing recorder thing going, but is still pretty young and charming. The kids take their bikes all over Minneapolis, cruising the Target Center and the Vikings practice field. Twins mascot T.C. Bear and rapper Brother Ali even make appearances.
The second song, “Khaki Pants,” is by NSJ Crew, an all-boy group featuring many of the same Y.N. Rich Kids. That song bemoans the burdens of having to wear boring school uniforms while trying ...
David, isn't this your friends show? Its hilarious.
In advance of the final episode of The Late Live Show tomorrow night at midnight at iO, Joe Kwaczala took a look back at some favorite memories from each of the show's six seasons. [ more › ]
Just tonight I realized that the creators of Hannibal have been making amazing shout-outs to The Shining. The scene in the bathroom tonight WAS the same bathroom from the "naked woman" scene in The Shining. I just realized the "red bathroom" was a shoutout too. So awesome.
For an episode that featured a whole lot of death, “Sorbet” was full of life. There was a playfulness, almost a deviousness to “Sorbet” that felt so naturally in place within the context of the episodes, even though most of those lighter tones were caused by brutal mutilation. Previous episodes have been the Will Graham Show (not a complaint), with the exception of last week’s “Entree,” which was all about Jack. But this was Hannibal’s episode. So far, Mads Mikkelsen has been playing Hannibal Lecter as an intensely straight-laced human being, the kind of guy neighbors tell local news stations they never suspected of being a serial killer. It’s antithetical to Anthony Hopkins’ hammed out performance and that’s, in part, what has made it good. But “Sorbet” features a gaiety in Hannibal we haven’t really gotten a glimpse of before, and that gaiety could very ...
In a last-minute bid to be elected President, John McCain is introducing legislation aimed at pushing cable companies to allow subscribers to purchase channels à la carte (French for "without all that crap"), as opposed to being forced to buy “a whole bunch of channels that that consumer may not want wish to subscribe to”—all part of a plan that he’s calling the Television Consumer Freedom Act. McCain, definitely no fan of being imprisoned by things, has had it with cable companies bundling their networks and forcing people to purchase great swaths of basic cable hinterland they never venture into, just to get their nice little acre of preferred entertainment. It’s a proposal McCain has made before—seven years ago, in fact—but as Americans increasingly look to other options that allow them more control over what they watch, it seems the time may be ripe for revolution ...
This movie was beautiful and bizarre and completely nonsensical
Shane Carruth’s Upstream Color isn’t a movie you can fully understand the first time through. Or the second. Or, and I speak from experience, the third. In interviews, Carruth is happy—perhaps too happy—to explain aspects of the film, like why Kris (Amy Seimetz) is drawn to Jeff (Carruth) after a con artist (credited as The Thief) puts her in a suggestible state by infecting her with a parasitic worm. And how the movie’s strange cycle unwittingly links The Thief with The Sampler (a scientist who also records New Age music incorporating field recordings of the natural world) and the Orchid Mother and Daughter, a barely glimpsed pair whose exotic plants nourish The Sampler’s worms. And the existence of psychic bonds between the pigs The Sampler raises on his remote farm and The Thief’s victims, and so on. But there’s a point at ...
Jason Collins made his big “I'm gay” announcement last week in Sports Illustrated, making him the first officially out homosexual male athlete playing one of the four major US sports. Although, to be fair, he's currently a free agent. So there's still a chance, knowing the “traditional values” and general shying away from controversy that plagues sports-franchise owners not named Cuban, that he won't take the court again. In light of the announcement, the news media focused on the positive reactions to the revelation. And rightfully so, seeing as they were so plentiful and from all walks of life. But big announcements like these can't help but be met with a vocal minority of the religious-minded seeing this as a “test” from the man upstairs, and the only way they'll pass is by letting their feelings be known to a national audience. As such, the announcement shook out quite a few bigots from out of their trees. Here's a small sample:
- ESPN's Chris Broussard, the first one in the shit show by making clear he believes being gay is “an open rebellion to God,”
- An as-yet-unnamed church in Madison, Wisconsin, cancelled a speaking engagement for Green Bay Packers safety Leroy Butler after he sent a tweet congratulating Collins on his announcement.
- Golden State Warriors Coach Mark Jackson said that, as a Christian man, he knows “what's right and wrong,” and he's praying for Collins.
- Daily Beast columnist (now, former) Howard Kurtz attacked Collins for once being engaged to a woman, saying Collins never addressed that pesky issue in his announcement, which he most certainly did.
- A 57-year-old sports editor for a small-town newspaper doesn't think we should categorize Collins as a hero because being gay is a choice he made.
- A whole slew of people—including Rush Limbaugh, Mike Francesa, Tim Brando, Asante Samuel, and, well, a bunch more—tried to diminish the announcement by complaining that people shouldn't even care about it. “Like, who cares about a player's sexuality?” is what sneaky homophobes say, trying to get us to change the conversation so they don't have to feel uncomfortable anymore.
- And, of course, the old faithfuls chimed in: the Westboro Baptist Church protested an NBA game; Pat Robertson said it's fine and dandy to call Collins “an abomination.”
- And, no doubt, a Facebook friend of yours revealed themselves. Meaning, cut that fucking asshole loose.
Which is to say, the good part of all of these people revealing themselves is that it gives us a chance to completely ignore them in the future.
OK then! Onto the non–Jason Collins portion of our roundup!
- A confident to Iran's Supreme Leader Ayatollah Khamenei believes that Jews are behind the international community's putting measures on the Iranian people because of “powers of sorcery.”
- In Israel, a Palestinian militant riding a motorcycle was hit by an airstrike. Google also chimed in on the whole Palestine/Israel thing by by changing the former's designation from simply “territories” to an actual state.
- A passenger on a bus in Santa Monica went a little nuts when another would-be passenger didn't have her fare, calling her “Satan” and pretending the whole thing was an exorcism.
- Over in Thailand, members of an Islamist insurgent group killed six Buddhists, including one two-year-old boy.
- An idiot mother in Michigan wants to get the unedited Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl pulled from her daughter's middle school, because she's scared her seventh grade daughter will learn what a clitoris is.
- The Boy Scouts of America: they're OK with gay people sort of, but not really, and they're OK with kids participating being homosexual, but not any group leaders, or something like that, blah-blah-blah, and who knows! (They should probably clarify what they're thinking.)
- Over at Carnegie Mellon University, a female student passed out condoms during a parade while dressed half naked as the pope—including the amazing detail of shaving her pubic hair in the shape of a cross—and boy, oh boy, are the Catholics not pleased about this.
- Four members of a choir at an Albuquerque church were stabbed by a crazed person yelling “fake preacher!”
- The religious-minded fans of the Jacksonville Jaguars have put together a petition for President Obama to use some kind of executive order to force their team into signing Tim Tebow.
- Hoag Memorial Hospital in Orange County, California, banned “elective abortions” after it entered into a partnership with a Catholic charity. The hospital's CEO says this was “not a religious decision,” which is, frankly, a bunch of bullshit.
AndOur Person of the Week: This awesome homeless person trying to find out which religion “cares most” by allowing believers or nonbelievers to “vote” by donating money to him in labeled bowls. While there certainly isn't any way to find out if this test is legit, it certainly isn't not shocking that “agnostic” and “atheist” are leading the pack.
As goes the great karmic balance of the TV universe, every bit of good news must be immediately met with news that we’ll just pretend is bad—because it's the nice thing to do, and because we already started the sentence this way and now must see it through. Two things that won’t be seen through, however, are Whitney and 1600 Penn, as NBC has just officially canceled both as part of today’s reorganizing. Of these two shows, Whitney was easily the most buzzed-about—as in, “Can you believe that show I liked got canceled, but fucking Whitney is still on? BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ” [flies away, angrily buries stinger in nearest neck, dies]. Its cancellation marks an end to its brief, tumultuous life of serving as the bellwether and/or scapegoat by which all TV was measured, as well as the official, previously heralded end ...
Are We There Yet? is a feature in which I break down the current issue of Endtime Magazine, the bimonthly print publication of Endtime Ministries. As you might have guessed, Endtime’spurposeis to advance the notion that the end of the world is nigh and that current news events were prophesized in the Bible's more apocalyptic passages. The magazine has been published for 22 years without ever questioning whether the end times are actually upon us, which is impressive in a way. I’ll be writing this column every other month or so until the sounding of the first trumpet, or until I get bored with it, whichever comes first.
You’d think it would be pretty fun to write for a magazine where you constantly get to talk about the end of the world—the gigantic battle between good and evil, the seven seals, the Antichrist announcing himself, all that cool stuff. It’d be especially thrilling for you every time a new pope gets announced because, obviously, you get to ask, IS THIS POPE THE FINAL, EVIL POPE WHO WILL USHER IN THE AGE OF THE ANTICHRIST? Plus you get to run a cover of that new pope surrounded by flames and resembling a villain from one of the Star Wars prequels.
(The secret to making the Catholic Church look evil is that any old man in fancy robes like that looks evil. And that collection of cardinals behind the pope on Endtime’s cover provide another ominous-looking visual. If the Church wants to improve its image, maybe it should stop dressing its leaders in blood-red robes and having them assemble in high-ceilinged places full of ancient, grotesque statues? Gatherings like this look fucking terrifying. But I digress.)
Unfortunately, this issue of Endtime, despite the cover story featuring the new pope, is tame. Boring, even. The big feature on Pope Francis starts with a promising tagline…
...but the story itself is mostly a dry, almost textbook-like account of the recent history of the Church and an explanation of who the Jesuits are. The only way it differs from one of the countless news accounts written by nonapocalyptic sources is that it also discusses Saint Malachy’s “Prophecy of the Last Pope,” which is, like, the lamest prophecy ever. It’s a list of 112 popes that was supposedly revealed to Malachy in 1139 and “rediscovered” in 1590, but more likely, given that it describes all of the pre-1590 popes very accurately and gets vague after that, was written by some goofball who only claimed it came from the 12th century.
Malarchy’s (or whoever’s) prophecy claims that the 112th pope will be the last one, and Pope Francis is (duh duh duh) the 112th pope on the list. According to Endtime, prophecies say that the last pope (a.k.a. the False Prophet) will “endorse a program of global socialism, causing all people to receive a mark or number that will be required for buying and selling. This "mark of the Beast" will apparently be a global scheme for wealth redistribution (social justice).”
Endtime Magazine is a little bit confused about the prospects for a global government run by socialists—it says that “most of the world is presently rejecting capitalism and embracing socialism,” which is craaaAAazy—but even these worrywarts don’t seem that concerned that Francis will be the pope to usher it in. Why? He might be an evil socialist who is dangerously popular, but he’s too old. The False Prophet’s reign as pope is scheduled to end only after a seven-year period “that will begin upon the signing of a Palestinian-Israeli peace agreement.” Since that won’t happen for a few years at least, Francis is probably going to be too old and frail to perform his end-of-the-world duties. So the article ends with a wishy-washy, “We can’t yet say for sure whether this pope is the final one.” C’mon, Endtime! I subscribe to you because I trust you know how the world is going to end. Enough with this equivocating horseshit!
I also don’t subscribe to Endtime to read about Obama’s trip to Israel, which happened nearly two months ago at this point. The only thing that this has to do with the end of the world is that the folks who write Endtime say that the big apocalyptic event will be a Middle East peace treaty, which will last for a few years before resulting in a war that will kill one-third of humanity. Obviously, that peace treaty is a dream at this point, so this article just sort of fills up space. What else is in this issue?
Oh yeah, this piece of shit. From the headline, you would think that this prophecy, which is in the book of Daniel, would have a “date on it!” But no, there’s no date. It just once again reminds us that there’s that “seven-year period” that will feature animal sacrifices in Jerusalem, peace in the Middle East, a false messiah who will unite the world under one government, and horrific war. Thrilling stuff, but I already read all about it in your last issue, guys. That big scary prophecy in Daniel just says that a couple things will happen before the end times—the coming of the messiah and the destruction. Both of those eventshappened nearly 2,000 years ago, so it could be another two millenia before the last seven years, or it could kick off on March 11, 2014. That’s a date, assholes. I know it’s tough writing “The End is coming!” over and over for three decades, but you could at least do your job without the intentionally misleading headlines.
Those three dull articles are the only things in this issue apart from the regular features (the letters to the editor and the short news items that rehash the same information you get elsewhere in the magazine), but there were a couple highlights. First, there was this:
All timelines should end with an arrow pointing toward “eternity.” It gives them a certain amount of authority.
Then there was this ad (as usual, all the ads in the issue were for products from Endtime Ministries):
WWII: ENTRANCE RAMP FOR THE ANTICHRIST! I found this on YouTube, and it turns out that the video is a bunch of vaguely threatening images and a long, long lecture from Irvin Baxter, the Endtime Ministries head honcho, who looks like a balloon of old skin that is slowly leaking air and sounds like a cartoon frog who has been smoking for decades.
But! That title! “Entrance Ramp for the Antichrist” is a phrase that needs to be recycled—a metal album, a video game, an entrance ramp… let’s give it a new home, guys. And soon. Because you know what’s coming any day now.
A naked man who police say exhibited "extra human strength" led police on a chase for more than a mile as he attempted two carjackings, punched a police officer, was pepper-sprayed and then attacked a bystander. [ more › ]
Though McDonald’s is a global company, serving up variations of its fast food to people of just about every nation, it’s still considered by many to be one of the companies, if not the company, most identified with Americans. Which is why we’re perplexed by the bizarre images shown in McDonald’s UK ads for its America-themed menu items.
The odd ad [via Eater] shown above features what we guess pass as American stereotypes invading various UK scenes.
There’s the yellow cab with a female passenger carrying a dog in a cowboy hat (FYI, women who put costumes on their dogs don’t take cabs; they hire car services), the no-necked bodybuilders (because apparently no one in England exercises?), long-bearded rednecks cruising around on a fan boat (someone apparently saw a commercial for Duck Dynasty), cheerleaders at a cricket match (which wouldn’t be a bad idea, as cricket would put the Tasmanian Devil to sleep).
But even more vexing than the images in the ads are the burgers themselves [details via BrandEating].
The burger shown in the ad above is the Chicago Supreme. Considering McDonald’s calls the Chicago area home, you’d think this would be an accurate depiction of what you’d get from an American McDonald’s. Instead, it’s got “spicy tomato salsa, and cool mayo, all in a chilli, chive and sesame topped bun.” Because we all know Chicagoans’ love of chili, chive and sesame seed buns.
But wait, that supposedly Chicago-style bun also shows up on the New York Classic, which is basically the same as the Chicago burger, but without salsa and with red onion — and mustard, which most real burgers in New York will never see.
Then there’s the Arizona Nacho Grande, which has ‘nacho-style’ sauce, shredded lettuce, pepperoni (yes, pepperoni), nacho chips and cheese with peppers, on a sesame bun.
Let’s not forget the Louisiana BBQ, which is a cheeseburger with barbeque sauce and onions. You can just about smell the gumbo and etouffee, can’t you?
And finally, he California Melt, named for a state synonymous with experimental, hybrid cuisine. But instead of getting something like guacamole or garlic, customers get a cheeseburger with pepper cheese.
Ooof. Vogue cropped Kim Kardashian out of its slideshow of the best looks of the Met Ball, leaving just a ghostly, floral-printed hand floating next to Kanye West, whose look the magazine praised. Kardashian's custom Givenchy gown has been widely panned as a red-carpet look and has already inspired Internet parodies. All the other duos who appear in the slideshow remained intact for their photos. [Vogue.com]
Spinach and feta burek. [Photographs: Chris Crowley]
For a burekaphile like myself, the appearance of a new burek is an event that demands attention. So when reader Rob Starobin chimed in with news of a new burek in the far western reaches of Kingsbridge Heights, I knew I needed to check it out.
Like many burektorja in the Bronx, from Belmont to Van Nest, Dimo is built on the pre-existing business of a pizzeria. The phenomenon works on two obvious levels. Pizzerias already have ovens good for burek, and most of the burek in the borough are sold by Albanians, who feel a cultural affinity with Italy,* and some of whom fled to the country as refugees in the '90's.
*The same reason why the manager of an Arthur Avenue Italian restaurant like 089 is Albanian.
The burek ($3) is baked in large sheets and cut into squares, and it has fewer layers than what you'll find at Dukagjini. But you'll find a filling here that's much more unique.
When I arrived, Dimo had run out of meat burek. I settled for a slice of spinach and feta, which I almost always prefer over the beef. "A lot of people up here make it with spinach or cheese. I make it with both, together, because I think that's the best. Some people don't use cheese, others use cream cheese," the owner told me, "That's cutting corners."
The use of cream cheese at other Bronx burektorjas can give you the spinach filling a cream of spinach flavor profile; here it's more robust, with a slight creaminess and faint tanginess imbued by the cheese. The spinach is soft and well-seasoned but not overly doctored.
However, what marks this spinach and feta burek as unique in the borough (to my knowledge) is the use of "nenexhik," or mint, in the seasoning. As to whether or not this is a common seasoning in Albania, we can't say. But it certainly changes the dynamic of your everyday spinach and feta burek. Its cool, menthol flavor defines the filling. The lingering taste is so strong you might think the spinach were sautéed in sarsaparilla.
As for the phyllo? It lacked crispness. A flurry of shattered phyllo is a common consequence of biting into a good burek, but there was none of that here. While the spinach burek got increasingly soft as you dug in, there's no real buttery richness. Rob reports that it doesn't stand up well to delivery.
Still, while I wouldn't go out of my way for this burek, it's a nice addition to a neighborhood without much destination food around. Just don't fall for the pizza, which looks as limp as can be.
Dimo Pizzeria
318 West 231st Street, The Bronx, NY 10463 (map)
347-843-0550
About the author:Chris Crowley is the author of the Bronx Eats and Anatomy of A Smorgasburg Pop Up columns. Follow him on Twitter, if you'd like. In person, your best bet is the window seat at Neerob, or waiting in line at the Lechonera La Piranha trailer.
The toilet, which was clean, had flown off a portable toilet delivery truck that was pulling out of the school's parking lot, Chief Deputy Jeff Trafton told the paper. The driver, Ronnie Furrow, received a summons for having an "unsecured load."
Our weekly look back through the best and worst of pro wrestling promo photos continues. If you missed week 1 and week 2, I encourage you to go back and check them out first, because otherwise you won’t be able to figure out my complexly layered jokes, like “Jeff Jarrett is terrible and looks like a monster.”
Week 3 encapsulates the last 20 years of WWE programming … legendary champions, beautiful Divas, the time Kane was a pro wrestling dentist and at least eight tag teams you’d completely forgotten about. Also, Steve Blackman holding weapons!
So please, click through to enjoy 50 more ridiculous WWE promo photos. If you don’t, Triple H is gonna look at you like that all day.
I never realized how modern Shawn Michaels is a hat and a pair of glasses away from being Dale Gribble from ‘King Of The Hill.’ You know what’s better than pulling your jeans up to your armpits? TUCKING YOUR SHIRT INTO THEM.
Two things Sid is great at:
1. powerbombs 2. Bohemian Rhapsody
Look at his face. Even HE doesn’t believe that thumbs up.
Thank goodness the cowboy tag team’s last names were “Gunn.” Imagine if they were Billy and Bart Jones? WWE would’ve just called them “These Grinning Assholes.”
Peter Gallagher in the role of his career.
Stacy Keibler has always been beautiful, right? Here she is in that weird period when she lost too much weight and started venturing into “we can’t put Cerie in this episode of ’30 Rock’ because we’re concerned about her” territory.
Stephanie tore her quad, but she finished the photoshoot anyway, because she is a WARRIOR.
I love Stevie’s autograph here. It’s like he’s saying, “hey, thank you for taking an interest in Stevie Richards. I’m gonna scribble over my crotch so you don’t have to look up my cut-offs for the rest of your life.”
Here’s Sunny during her weird “look as much like Stevie Ray Vaughan as possible” period.
You may not remember Sylvan (he was one half of La Resistance, if you don’t), but his solo run featured one of my legit favorite WWE entrance themes ever, THE WORLD IS SYLVAN. Enjoy, and share this with your grandchildren.
Sylvester Terkay has the handwriting of a girl in the third grade. What’s going on with your T, Sly?
“Hey, I’ve been wrestling as an Indian for like three years. Any ideas on how to make my gear worse?” “Dick flap. Put a jack-o-lantern on it.” “SOLD.”
Here’s one gas station attendant who’ll NEVER get shot by accident!
I don’t know why the Million Dollar Man is standing in a waterfall, but I’ll allow it.
Tekno Team 2000, or “What the Hardy Boyz would’ve been if Matt Hardy was both guys.”
for f**k’s sake
If this guy was my dentist, I’d fire him.
(get it)
One of my goals in life is to find out the actual lyrics to Test’s entrance theme. If I die without knowing them, I will wander the Earth forever. No, those lyrics you found by googling “Test entrance theme lyrics” are not the actual lyrics. Nobody knows them for sure. THEY ARE IMPOSSIBLE TO KNOW.
Shaniqua don’t work here no more.
The next time somebody finds out that you like wrestling and goes to the “wrestling is GAY” talking point, remember The Dicks, and realize that they are totally correct. Wrestling is super gay. Sorry if that bothers you!
I take it back. Pro wrestling is the most heterosexual thing in the world. Proof: an 8-foot tall man in a nude, airbrushed bodysuit with faux-fur underpants to cover his airbrushed privates, accompanied by a nervous nerd who stands at about dick height.
What happens when you make all four Original Kings Of Comedy into one guy. He’s even holding a mic stand, standing in front of a brick wall!
In 40 years, this photo becomes the Lemon Party.
Daivari has gone full Tom Haverford in this picture. How bad must Ranjin Singh feel trying to introduce himself to people? “Hi, I’m Ranjin Singh, I was the race-baiting guy who hung out with the Great Khali and pointed at him all the time. No, the other one.”
The GYMini! They’re twins, but they like to work out! DO YOU GET IT. DO YOU GET OUR JOKE.
I would’ve liked this team better if they’d been billed as The Sons Of The Dicks. El Hijo del Dick and Dick Jr.!
Remember when the “I’m Robbie!” catchphrase took over the nation? Now he’s got to apply for jobs at Target or wherever and just sorta forlornly drop his head and say “I was Robbie.”
The New Rockers, or “what The Rockers would’ve been if Marty Jannetty was both guys.”
The Road Warrior, or “What The Road Warriors would’ve been if Animal was both guys.” Hey, being an old dude in a leather jacket beats teaming with Heidenreich and Droz.
Dear 1996,
This guy is going to get really cool soon. Please do not stop booing him. If you start cheering him, it’ll go to his head, and 15 years later he’ll be the star of every movie. Every single movie. Just pretend like you don’t like him and cheer Steve Austin more.
Love, 2013 Brandon
Tim White signs under his name, because he doesn’t want to mess up that fantastic picture of Tim White.
WrestleCrap: The Announcer. “what’s the deal with the gobbeldygooker, am i right folks”
Or, as I’ve called him to no laughter for almost 20 years, “Salvatore Insincere.”
If you’re good at Magic Eye, you might be able to read these autographs.
Know why you can’t see the lower half of Tori’s legs? Because they glued her kneecaps to her chest to make boobs.
Speaking of WWE Torries, here’s The Lady Alex Rodriguez during her best character run, aka “that time she put shoes and a hat on a dog and carried it around.” We miss you, Chloe.
Never forget.
(Okay, forget.)
Trinity, or as she’s known in certain circles, Not Traci Brooks. Trinity, as in “God, look at her body,” “Jesus Christ, look at her face” and “something gross about how ‘spirit’ sounds like ‘spear it.’”
This is probably the grossest Triple H ever looked. Look at him. It’s like he accidentally ate a piece of strawberry chewing gum at Willy Wonka’s factory.
The Ultimate Warrior standing in a starfield. Your argument is invalid.
Here’s the Undertaker and his wife Sara. If you don’t remember Sara, she’s the kind of woman who inspires you to tattoo her name across your neck, until a few years later when you meet a lady who looks just like her, but is prettier and a few years younger.
IT’S TIME
IT’S TIME
IT’S … TIME TO BUY A JACKET AT JCPENNY
This close-up of Viscera’s face really encapsulates everything Viscera was about: being enormously fat, always pulling up his pants and finding his way into gimmicks worse than “being named after internal organs.”
moving along
Give it up for William Regal’s airbrushed abs!
This close-up of Zach Gowen really encapsulates everything Zach Gowen was about: having one leg.
“Thou shalt not own a motorcycle.”
And now, something amazing to cleanse your palate.
In advance of the final episode of The Late Live Show tomorrow night at midnight at iO, Joe Kwaczala took a look back at some favorite memories from each of the show's six seasons. [ 
Ald. Tom Tunney (44th) is revisiting a proposal to license and regulate pedicabs. [ 
A naked man who police say exhibited "extra human strength" led police on a chase for more than a mile as he attempted two carjackings, punched a police officer, was pepper-sprayed and then attacked a bystander. [ 
Butcher & The Burger is bringing 25 of its goats from a farm in Barrington Hills to be "the perfect lawn mowers" for the airport. [ 
