Nestle Crunch Cereal - Better Than Bread

Making a cereal out of some other kind of food seems like a difficult task to me. With limited ingredients, it's tough to make one thing taste like another. It could be the reason why Kellogg's hasn't cranked out a "sausage 'n eggs" cereal yet. Or maybe it's just because everyone knows that's a really, really bad idea.

While on vacation I came across a cereal I hadn't yet encountered. Nestle Crunch Cereal. I didn't have to think twice before grabbing a box. The Nestle Crunch bar is a damn fine chocolate bar and I was dying to see how close to the sun those cereal chefs could fly.

The goal here was not only to make the cereal taste like chocolate, but to give it its namesake crunch as well. For without the chocolate bar's distinct crunch, it would be a failure and you may as well just pour Nestle Quik over top of bread.

The cereal's shape is odd little conjoined balls almost in the shape of a Honeycomb cereal morsel. This did not give me much confidence in how it would feel or taste. But let me tell you. I was wrong.

The chocolate? It's there. Solid chocolate flavour indeed. And the crunch? They nailed it. It couldn't have crunched any better. But there was something else. Something unsavoury. And there it was, in plain Portugeuse, right on the box. How could I have missed it? "com cereais integrais".

Mother-effing whole grain. Hands down the utter downfall of the cereal industry.

Cereal has tasted like garbage ever since they infused whole grain bark and twigs into every mouthful. Until I tasted it again, I'd actually forgotten the reason I stopped buying cereal. And if you've read for a while, you'll know what sort of a cereal maniac I used to be. Maniac. Yeah. I ain't kidding.

I wish I could give two Martini thumbs up to Nestle Crunch cereal. If it weren't for the nine pounds of oak tree in the box, I would. But y'know, if I had wanted an oak tree, I would've bought an oak tree.

Double Down is a Hit

KFC's Double Down is a hit in Canada and I must say that I'm surprised. First of all, I didn't realize Canada was getting the big fat ridiculous(ly awesome) chicken sandwich. Again.

Apparently we had the artery clogging sunuvabitch last year. And the 2011 version doesn't disappoint either. In fact it's 10% healthier with a 10% reduction in sodium! Rejoice, oh morbidly obese! Rejoice, all ye chicken & bacon lovers! Rejoice, oh haters of that confounded bread that is always getting in the way and ruining perfectly good chicken sandwiches.

This sandwich will go down in history as one of the greatest. I care not what sort of sales figures KFC reports. Today's trip to the local Kentucky Fried Chicken emporium was proof enough for me of the Double Down's success.

At 2 o'clock in the afternoon there was a line. A line. A line in my usually empty KFC. Two hours AFTER lunch.

Ahead of me stood 6 people, all ordering Double Downs. With 7 Double Downs on order, we all sat and waited while our local KFC chef poured his heart and soul into these magnificent chicken creations. Ten minutes later we made our bulging bellies (and KFC's bottom line) fatter.

Grilling Awsome Corn on the Cob

I know you wanna know how to grill the second most awesome corn on the cob ever. Sadly, I cannot help you. However, if you'll settle for the most awesome corn on the cob ever, you've come to the right place.

Step 1: Buy the freaking corn. I purchased my corn in husks at Walmart. Although it's not my favourite place to shop, right now it seems to be the only store selling corn in cobbed form.

Step 2: Go home.

Step 3: Don't husk the corn. Fill your sink part way and soak the corn. I soaked mine for about 10 minutes. If you aren't old enough to use water, ask your parents for permission.

Step 4: Light your charcoal grill. Right now I'm using Basques Sugar Maple charcoal, however you may use a different kind. If you're awesome though, you'll copy me.

Step 5: Shake the excess water off your corns and put 'em on your hot grill. Put the lid on and let them cook. The water will steam the corn on the inside. Turn them over after 12-15 minutes. Let the husks get nice and dark. If you cook them too long, the corn will become very bendy. I cooked mine for 30 minutes.

Step 6: Take your awesome corn off the grill when they are extremely dark all the way around. Black is ok! Hold a cob in your BBQ glove (or dishtowel if you're a sissy), and peel back the husk with your other hand. It comes off very easily. It looks like this.

Step 7: Put on your butter, salt and whatever else you like. Some sissies like Tabasco sauce. Or pepper. Or HP sauce. That's totally gross and you're a freak if you like it that way, but I'm not judging you.

Step 8: Eat your corns!

Step 9: Once corn is fully digested go to the bathroom. Rinse and repeat.

Night Grilling Insanity

I can't stop grilling. My new charcoal grill has got me so excited I find myself making food at all hours of the night.

To start, I take my rapid-start chimney, crumple some newspaper up and jam it into the bottom. However, if my neighbours are in their backyards, and I don't feel like disturbing them, I use my Big Green Egg fire-starters which are smokeless little squares of pressed cardboard and wax. I then pour charcoal into the top and fill 'er up.

Lighting the newspaper (or fire-starter blocks) really beats pushing an ignition button on a gas BBQ. Once the charcoal starts to burn, it puts on a most excellent show, especially at night.

With blue flames shooting up from the chimney, I can roast a pre-dinner marshmallow in under 4 seconds. And when the charcoal has a nice grey coating all over it (usually 10 minutes), I pour it into the bottom of the grill and I'm ready to go.

Grilling is an event. With a gas BBQ you turn a few knobs and the burners ignite. It's not exciting, but it gets the job done. With grilling, lighting the charcoal is half the fun. Or in my case, about 79.2% of the fun, because I ain't no chef, but I might just be a bit pyro. (What can I say? It's badass.)

It's 11:03 pm? Time to grill some corn on the cob! I need an intervention! And when you all come over to stop me, I'll make you some great food!

Charcoal for my Soul

Long time no post. Things have been tough lately. I'll give you the nutshell, not that you're interested. So, if you don't give two shits about my pathetic life, go right ahead and skip to the end of this paragraph. Do it. I won't mind. What?? You're still reading? Impossible. Alright then, what have I been up to? Geez. I got no idea.

Now the good stuff. I miss my grandparents. I miss their 60s interlocking brick patio. I miss their 60s aluminum folding chairs. I miss their homemade gingerbread men. I miss BBQs at their house on Father's Day.

I'm tired. Tired of cell phones. Tired of the internet. Tired of keeping up with the Jonses. Tired of technology and life in general let me tell you what. And you know what else? I'm tired of cooking with gas.

I've struggled with my stainless steel BBQ for years. It takes 20 minutes to heat up and the food tastes more boring than Stephen Harper's pants. Look I know it's a terrible analogy but let me ask you, have you ever noticed Harper's pants? That's right, you haven't. Because they're BORING. And if you're American you might be asking "Who the hell is Harper?" Lucky you.

My Centros BBQ is rusting. Sure the burners are stainless, but what's the point when the body rusts out from beneath it? Instead of repairing it or forking out an insane amount of money for a new one made in China, I chose the path less travelled. I bought a charcoal BBQ. A Weber One-Touch Gold. Made in the USA.

Nope, there's no temperature gauge. Nope, you can't turn down one half to keep food warm. And nope, there's no instant, push-button ignition.

But what there is is DAMN tasty food in nearly half the time using the Rapidfire chimney starter and some hot-burning charcoal. The charcoal I'm using now is Basques Sugar Maple Hardwood, from Quebec. It's harvested as part of a government reforestation project. AND IT MAKES FOOD TASTE LIKE CRACK.

I'm addicted. And I'm no chef. Before this I could only make toast and ice cubes. I now daydream at work about experimenting with my BBQ. Screw the gas I say. I'm tired of unreliable modern shit. So it's out with the new, and in with the old!

Cop Stag, Unknown Doe

Proudly, with a brand new iron in hand, Suz and I returned home after a fundraising evening known as the Stag & Doe. Handing over hard earned money to the cash-strapped bride and groom is a great way to support your friends. And coming home with multiple door prizes is a nifty way of them saying "Here, take this as a token of our appreciation. I don't know where it came from. Somebody's mom probably."

And yes, I chose an iron. Confused? Eye-ron. That's right. The hot thing used to flatten my pathetic, tattered high-school clothes which I continue to wear decade after decade. Because I can't afford anything new. Because I never have any money. Because I'm always giving it away at these stag & doe things.

The good news is that the styles are starting to come back into vogue. Did I just use the word Vogue? Madonna would be proud. I'm going to strike a pose now, just to give it that 100%. What "it" am I talking about? I don't even know.

What I do know is that I came home from officer ST3's Stag & Doe with a box of tasty Waterbridge Occasions candies (an "Assortment of Chocolates & Toffees" to be exact), a package of Baileys Filled Chocolates, a box of Walkers Pure Butter Shortbread Rounds ("Rounds" is fancy Scottish talk for circle-shaped cookies), some Hot Apple olde style cider mix, a giant blue mug to drink it from, a bowl made of that ever-popular glass stuff, a pair of super neat-o candles, a Durabrand iron, and a sweet can of Spray Starch to stiffen up my flaccid rags.

I'm really looking forward to going on a sugar high, followed by a mad ironing rampage. If I end up hurting anyone in the ensuing orgy of destruction, at least I know a great cop who'll be kind to my puny wrists, and his wife-who-works-with-lawyers who can find one to get all the charges dropped.

And if not, they'll go down with me as accomplices.

Star Trek Cereal - Boldly Going Into My Stomach

Look! Up on the shelf - it's a cereal! It's an advertisement! It's.... Star Trek Limited Edition cereal, from Kellogg's!

As you may or may not know, I'm a cereal fiend, especially when it comes to American cereals. If there's anything I love more than the cereal, it's movie/cereal team-ups.

Way up here in igloo-infested Canada, cereal selection is dismal at best and downright miserable at worst; often the choice between no-name oatmeal, Corn Flakes, or some sort of puffed, half-germinated seed pods with "no added sugar!"

But in the USA there are choices. In the USA there are special cereals. Limited Edition cereals. Cereals like Star Trek, with delicious planet Earth, planet Vulcan, and Delta shield marshmallows that crush gloriously between your teeth.

While vacationing in Ohio, (I know, that doesn't make sense, but it's true) I specifically stopped at a grocery store to see what kinds of awesome breakfast treats I could bring home. I snagged a box of Star Trek cereal for $1.99. In fact, I was so excited, and the box artwork was so excellent, I went back the next day and bought a second box.

The box declares the cereal as a "sweetened oat cereal with marshmallows". But when I dove into the oaty galaxy swirls, I found them to be a less sweet version of plain, ordinary Cheerios. DE-sweetened is a more appropriate description. They certainly weren't bad, but I wouldn't go so far as to say they were sweet.

The marshmallows, however, were fantabulous, as they are apt to be. Like an erect Captain standing strong in the face of space danger, the 'mallows were stiff and crunchy.

Although I found nothing new in this cereal, I still loved it. It was a no-nonsense kind of food. It didn't try to introduce anything special or new. All it did was advertise a great movie, and give your sorry ass self a half-exciting reason to get up in the morning. If only for the marshmallows.

In the end Limited Edition Star Trek cereal has unboldly gone where many cereals have gone before. Into my colon.

Stag & Doe #1

Ah, spring. The rainy season. April showers not only bring May flowers and flooded basements, but an abundance of weddings and wedding related events. Events such as the ever popular Stag & Doe.

Stag & Doe parties are designed to raise funds for the poor, struggling bride and groom who've not a penny to their name and have no hopes of paying for their extravagant wedding unless they can squeeze a few bucks out of every friend, distant relative or acquaintance. In fact, if a blood-soaked stranger grinning from ear to ear and mumbling about his 'sweet revenge' walked in off the street with cash in hand he probably wouldn't be turned away.

Suz and I spent Saturday night at a Stag & Doe for our co-worker James whom I first met in the parking lot at work when he challenged me to a race. The race was immediately called off upon James' discovery that the ol' Talon was putting out nearly triple the horsepower of his Toyota Celica.

The Stag & Doe was a well-organized blast, with cheap drinks, great food and even greater prizes to be won. Suz and I bought twenty raffle tickets and distributed them among the prizes we'd hoped to win.

Suz, abiding by the rule of "don't put all your eggs in one basket" applied her tickets towards various prizes, hoping to win just one of them. I, on the other hand, decided to put statistics into my favour, and plopped all of my tickets into the one prize I wanted the most.

At the end of the night, both our tactics worked as Suz won a 'Fancy Cut n' Hairstylin' Certificate and I won the 'Gourmet Gift Basket.' The basket's awesome international contents are as follows:

• President's Choice White Chocolate Chunk & Raspberry cookies


• Bahlsen Truffet Meringue/cocoa/chocolate biscuits


• Vicenzi Grisbi Classic Lemon & Ginseng biscuits


• Lindt Lindor milk chocolate bar


• Lindt Lindor milk chocolate balls


• Werther's Original caramels


• St. Dalfour Wild Blueberry Deluxe Spread, or 'Jam' to us reg'lar people


• Carr's Poppy & Sesame Thin Savoury Crackers


• Starbuck's Latin America Medium House Blend coffee, and finally...


• a box of 8 massive Mrs. Fields Semi-Sweet Chocolate Chip cookies

I suspect a tummy ache of Snuffalupagus proportions is right around the corner.

Sun-Rype Customer Service

Up until December 2007 the 62-year-old Canadian company known as Sun-Rype has stealthfully fluttered under my radar. But no more. Ever since I discovered Sun-Rype's Fruit Source bars on our trip to Vancouver, not only are they smack dab in the middle of my radar, they are filling my cupboards as well as my lower intestine.

Unless fruit is spelled with two O's (as in Froot), I don't eat much of it. I'm more of a meatatarian. But now, thanks to Sun-Rype, I eat a minimum of two to three servings of fruit a day. Because that's how much fruit they cram into each bar using advanced fruit-cramming technology.

I was so amazed by the fruit bar I tried, that I excitedly wrote to Sun-Rype, after checking their website for Ontario fruit bar distribution:

Subject: Consumer Service Inquiry
NameTitle: Mr.
LastName: Martini
InquiryType: General Inquiry

Message: Hello,
I just discovered your fruit bars on a Westjet flight to Vancouver for Christmas and I was completely caught off guard by the deliciousness of the Blueberry/Pomegranite bar. I am not much of a fruit-eater and it has always been difficult to get enough. I was so excited about the bar I tried that once I came home I immediately went out and bought a box - unfortunately I couldn't locate those exact bars. I see they're new and I hope to find them in my stores very soon!

Having once worked in a customer-service type industry, and having friends who work in upper levels of food and consumer-product industries, I know that most people only take the time to contact a company when they've got some complaining to do.

I have experimented with positive comments in the past and learned that about 50% of the time, you get a nice reaction. This was one of those times:

From: Sun-Rype Consumer Services
Subject: Sun-Rype Consumer Services Response
Date: The next day

Thank you for taking the time to visit our website. We appreciate consumer feedback and welcome the opportunity to address any questions or comments.

As a quality food and beverage manufacturer, Sun-Rype is committed to providing consumers with a wide variety of premium products. Consumer feedback is vital to our ongoing research and product development efforts. Blueberry Pomegranate is indeed our newest flavour in our Fruit Source line. As time goes on you will see it more readily available in your region.

We are taking this opportunity to forward you complimentary coupons by regular mail towards the purchase of any Sun-Rype product. These coupons can be used at most grocery stores in your region.

Once again, thanks for visiting our website. If you require any product information, please contact me directly.

Cindy Hazelton
SUN-RYPE PRODUCTS LTD.
Consumer Services Representative

Approximately ten days later I discovered a whopping six dollars in Sun-Rype coupons in my mail, along with a thank-you letter. I was astonished! How many companies do you know, honestly, who will offer such a thing for simply giving them a compliment?

Is there something sinister going on here that I am missing? Are they the evil druglord of the fruit world, trying to get me hooked? Do their coupons send a message saying, "Go ahead kid, try the fruit bar. Everybody's doing it."

Me: "...And you're telling me the first one is free?"

Sounds too good to be true, doesn't it? All I can say is two Martini-thumbs way up for Sun-Rype, for their awesomely delicious products, and proving to the world that customer service is not dead. If there's a company out there you've had an excellent experience with, write to them. Say something positive and see what happens.

Amputee Ghost Cat

The skeletons in my closet clatter with an uneasiness that sends chills reverberating throughout our house. The furnace mysteriously halts as an unstoppable cold fills each room. It is searching for something.

70-year-old windows rattle. Eerie wind creeps through the cracks and the coldness grows. Another being dwells in our home, and he is hungry. Strange noises emanate from unoccupied rooms... then suddenly...

The Amputee Ghost Cat appears!

Hovering, with no hind legs, the amputee ghost cat calls for food with a surreal, whispering meow. As faithful servant, I obey. Only the finest roasted, shaved chicken will do for the amputee ghost cat.

With his large paws he reaches for the food. The ghost cat makes contact with my hand - and it is cold. I tremble as I feed the starving spectre. His piercing blue eyes pierce my own eyes with a piercing stare that pierces uh, stuff. I must obey.

My hands shake like a diabetic on a sugar-low as I tear off another strip of tasty chicken for the phantom before me. I wonder what happened to his hind paws as I try and distract myself. I must stay focused. The amputee ghost cat can sense fear.

"Only a few more tender pieces of delicious chicken and he'll be satisfied" I think to myself. Sure enough, the ghost cat drops to the ground. His hind legs reappear and he walks away, licking his chops.

I have survived another feeding.

Royalty Is Visiting

This is Oliver. Or, as I like to call him, Shmeg, Shmeglin or Shmego-Bub. Shmeg is my parents' cat, a purebred Himalayan Lynx with a show-cat heritage. Recently he has gained a new name due to the fact he must be waited on hand and paw. Suz calls him the Prince. Yes, he's better than us, and he knows it.

While my parents are in Florida Suz and I are attending to the Prince's needs and desires. If we don't stick to the schedule, we'll both receive 40 Royal lashings.

And not the good kind, with a dominatrix standing over you with a cat-o-nine tails.

Shmeg is 14 years old, very old for a purebred, and is therefore on a strict diet of soggy, mashed up, scientifically formulated gunky crap which must be presented to him twice a day, along with a proper curtsy.

Apparently it's tasty crap. I wouldn't know. I've only ever tried dry cat food. Regardless, Prince Bub must be fed his soft raunch twice a day or he'll bite the big one.

Terrified and disoriented without his Royal Pillow, Prince Bub cowers in the basement, or slithers behind the fireplace; a crack so narrow my arm barely fits. The Prince must be coaxed out of these hiding places, and fed his Royal Dinner.

The only problem is, he prefers people food. And he prefers it fed to him by hand. And so I must sit, painstakingly tearing off strips of Schneiders Oven Roasted Chicken and holding it up for him to grab.

No, not with his teeth - with his paws. Price Bub sits on his hind legs and holds the chicken steady with his paws while he chews the nutrients out of it. Feeding time can last half an hour.

But it's all worth it for my little Prince Shmego-Bub, who shows his affection with mighty head-butts and a few choice vocalisations like, "Mmmcaaaaaaaaaw" instead of meow.

Hand feeding really isn't so bad, especially considering
*this* is the end result of Prince Bub's standard glop dinner. When finished, the Royal servant, me, sticks his plate into the royal dishwasher and wipes everything down. The whole process is a royal pain in the ass.