Monday, October 4, 2010

So good you can lick the paper*

Fork Fest Review
So good you can lick the paper*

Pass the puns please

While Carole is off having another dinner at Mom & Dad’s, I’m stuck here, sucking a brew and pounding out the hard, cold truths that make up the world of the FFR.
        And speaking of the world — I’d like to thank the thousands of fans out there that have sent us material — but unfortunately, we are unable to print it all.

Ya but dese Fokkers . . . (have you heard that one?)

Ya, in keeping with the food and drink theme of this outstanding publication, I must tell you another fine food related bit of fluff.
       Today I worked a lovely catering job, helping out the German Wine Association, hereafter known as  the “GWA.”
       So the GWA had this nifty gathering in the Presidio and all these German vintners attended, with their chilled bottles of white and their (yes, slightly chilled) bottles of red and some of the guys even wore these nifty German Jackets, but stayed away from the liederhosen and sadly ( before I run out of breath) there were no St. Pauli type women there, but . . . women of good tree stock none the less.
       Then there was my job. I got to run around emptying (with a former dot-com exec no less)
the swill buckets — drink a little wine, swish, gargle, gaze into the distance, then spit.
       Admittedly it was a little interesting for a few moments, but got old quick. Even though there was a decent decibel amount attributed to the talking, it seemed like every time someone spit into one of several buckets — that was all you could hear, or see — and then I got to rush around and marry the little buckets with the big buckets and . . . Did I get a free bottle of wine out of it? Nein.

Quel Fromage?

Karl and Karin, the olive oil barons of Mariposa, and host couple to no less than two lovely dinner parties — are in France at the moment.

Carole and Bob are not in France, but they will soon be going to Vietnam. Which the French once thought they could have for their very own, but no.

We caught up with Bob, sitting in front of Carole’s computer, eating a bag of Doritos Guacamole (hey, this seems like déja vu) and we asked “Mr. Run-on Sentence” to tell us a few things about his upcoming adventure.

FFR: Bob, just how many of those Doritos can you stuff in your mouth at once?

Bob: I’m bulking up for Vietnam. How come we never have Doritos at our dinners?

FFR: I wouldn’t know. So what are you looking forward to in Vietnam?

Bob: Coming home without having caught any funny diseases. I just had about seven shots, so I should be good to go. (Bob power pushes another load of Dorito.)

FFR: Bob, you’re incredibly exciting to talk with, but I’m afraid we’re out of time, thank you.

Bob: Thank you.

And speaking of cheese

Oh, where is that fact-checker! At Karl & Karin’s last dinner we had Arzu and Doug and Marcelo and Katherine with cheese by So Young with her husband and husband’s visting cousin and dinner plated by Dan and fireworks, compliments of the Giants — or was that more like getting cable tv for free?
       The Dinner Club’s most recent fête was held at Carmine’s lush little cubby hole in the Castro and although this writer did not get to attend, I did get some yummy left-overs.
       The pork was great and the beans, curious — kind of, dare I say, slimy, but good. Yes, slimy in a good kind of way. Unusual, but still good. Everything held up well in spite of the rigorous standards that we use, here at the office, to judge left-overs.
       Sadly, I did not get to try any of the fine Connecticut after dinner libations, that were either flown in from the Big C, grown in the big C, or pulled from a cabinet that was from the Big C, hereafter known as the Connecticut cabinet, or none or all of the above and all right, I’m digging deep for these pages.

Plastic Plate Party

Yes, it’s that time of year again — time for the big pre-holiday bash at Karl & Karin’s. I think that everyone is allowed to bring at least five friends, but since I have none, you might all be able to add a sixth.
       Remember, this is not a sit-down dinner, but a raging party, designed (see Carole get wild! yeah!!!) to shake the cinder-block walls and give old next door neighbor, Topher the Gopher, a reason to call in SF’s finest. We want to make noise, leave the bathroom in shambles and, oh yes, enjoy some “serious finger food, dude!”
       We are considering renting glasses, so we will chip in on the cost. Guests will bring a bottle of bubbly or wine each (or as I said before a certain editor got to it: Bring a bottle of whatever gets you there) and don’t forget the KFC popcorn chicken and the Doritos.
       So, again and from the top this time . . . mark your calendars for Saturday, November 1st and spend the rest of your waking hours, thinking up something absolutely festive and finger-friendly.

Applause for the Crudité King

Once again, Carole’s recent reception at the Nexus Gallery was almost overshadowed by the amazing crudité platter and flower arrangement whipped up by our very own Hideo — and what could better complement a few slender greens than ten whopping pounds of M&M’s?

In the meantime

Sadly, you’ve come to the end of another great issue of the FFR, and how we’ll top this one, we don’t know, but until then — grab your remote and watch some movies (there’ll be a quiz on each of these at the next dinner).

“Tuvalu” It’s French and hard to find — need I say more. (Netflix!!)

“Pipe Dreams” Learn how to make movies and watch Martin Donovan’s lips move.

“The Sweet Smell of Success” Squirm with Tony Curtis.

“Spirited Away” (or that whale movie) Young girls doing strange things.

“Swimming Pool” Again, it’s French and Charlotte Rampling gets nervous.

“Suddenly Last Summer” See Liz tell all.

* But feel free to lick the plate. Right, Corrinne?

October 2003

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