Monthly Feature
Fake food critic Terry Luther is combing the country!

Hello fellow foodies! Terry Luther with an exciting bit of news for you – I am a food fighter. Well, I was a food fighter. Background: does anyone else watch these “Man vs. Food” shows on the Food Network? That’s a dumb question… this is a food blog and you are reading it so at some point you have watched the Food Network and seen one of these types of shows. If, for whatever reason you haven’t, let me give you a brief rundown – exuberant host eats way too much food in a very short period of time for either a free meal or some hyper-unimportant local knick-knack like a “Harvey’s Burgers Pennant!” to hang on his wall or some other piece of stupid sh*t. They always act like they are begrudgingly having to eat a 40lb hamburger or are “really not looking forward to scarfing down this 20 foot Chicago-style hot dog in one swallow” (wincing/cutesy smile hits their face about now). It’s so disingenuous. You are HOSTING the show where you challenge yourself to eat more than Godzilla coming off a starving left-turn taking, mirage inducing desert death march just plopped down at the first eatery in site. Don’t act like you don’t want to do this. You pitched this show to the network. They give you millions of dollars a year to help you peripherally inspire over-eaters across America {way to go on that front dipsh*ts}.

This level of fake anxiety makes me want to do one thing to you – I want to punch you in the stomach right after you’ve sickeningly swallowed your last bite of whatever 5000 calorie ass shattering concoction is force fed down your boa constricter-esque gullet. What do you, the reader, think would happen after that gut punch? Where would this paint-can-sized lump of food end up? In their pants or on my face? That’s an interesting bet actually!

Needless to say, these shows bug the mess out of me. As a respectable and classy food critic I thought – not only can I eat MORE than these d-bags, I can eat way fancier too. Like ironed doily place-setting fancy, or Great Gatsby dress code/décor fancy… Donald Trump-golden-telescope-in-his-pad-for-some-completely-irrational-reason fancy. Lucky for me, I have longstanding friendships with many fine-dining establishments and one of them, Le Rio Grande {it’s a French-Tex-Mex fusion restaurant, but very fancy} was happy to oblige. I let them come up with the challenge all themselves without any input or guidance. Let me just say that that framework for the challenge was definitely bad idea jeans.

You know you’re in for a crazy food challenge when you enter the restaurants doors and no one that works there gives you any eye contact. The Matri’d {I didn’t take French} handed me a slip of paper at the host stand that simply said:

Good luck old friend!
Here’s a complimentary diaper, trust me, you’ll need it.
Best wishes,
Le Rio Grande

The Matri’d walked me to my table in the middle of the restaurant floor. They had arranged what looked to be heat lamps around the table upping the ante on the overall suckiness of what I was increasingly thinking was an awful display of ignorant and misdirected narcissism on my part. Why oh why did I have to eat more and in a fancier place than the dudes on TV? I quelled this creeping self-doubt and mentally doubled down on the challenge at hand. The kitchen doors swung open with a crash as 3 heavy-set waiters wearing classic butler tuxedos with the long draping coat-tails and sombreros approached carrying a huge cylindrical vat of something. They plopped it down on the table and lit it on fire with a blowtorch. Between the super bright lamps shining down on me and the flaming vat of something in front of me I had worked up quite a sweat and the eating hadn’t even begun. The head waiter explained to me that this was 5 gallons of a French-Tex-Mex 7 layer dip. The layers were structured as follows {from top to bottom}:

1. Crème Brulee
2. Queso
3. Crème Brulee
4. Sour Cream
5. Crème Brulee
6. Refried Beans
7. And you guess it… Crème Brulee

A bib was handed over and strapped on, a large serving spoon was slapped down in front of me, and a large cup of water with a “crazy” straw was placed next to what I now am calling the “vat o’ misery”. The staff then wheeled over a large grandfather clock and moved the minute hand to the half hour and began winding it up. It had a very Dali feel to it… and I must confess, the grandfather clock touch made me think “how fancy!”

I had 30 minutes to get through these 7 levels of Hell. In retrospect I’d have rather traversed the actual 7 levels of Hell then do this again. This might not be a shocker but Crème Brulee goes with nothing but Crème Brulee… Well, my word count max grows near! Join me next month as I document the outcome of this ridiculous food fight. There’s ups, there’s downs, there’s this-ways and that-ways…but most of all, a stunning conclusion of bloated proportions.

Terry Luther signing out!


SirRon June 27, 2011 at 10:04 am

French food sucks, but I think Creme Brulee also goes with fruit. Even Mexican fruit… like mangoes… or chicle.

terry luther June 30, 2011 at 7:07 pm

correct, Creme Brulee does go with fruit. I guess I was thinking of other dishes in of themselves and didn’t put fruit into this category.

mmm good July 1, 2011 at 6:25 pm

Love it. I laughed out loud.

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