By Shane Gericke
Longtime readers know I'm a coffee hound. Owwwwooooo!
But coffee, much as I love it, is not comfort food. Comfort food has to be oozy and gloozy and thick and soft, and dance in moonbeams with fat and/or sugar glowing as if irradiated. Its job is to comfort, not nag as do veggies and fruit and egg whites.
I try to eat mostly naggy foods these days, to keep my do-lap from overdoing. But when the sirens Sugah and Phat cannot be denied, here are a few comforts I tear after like Blagojevich spotting a TV camera. Give me strength . . .
SWEET RICH ICE CREAM
How can you not mentally orgasm over digging into a bowl of the creamy frozen treat? Particularly the high-fat kind? (Even better, frozen custard, the true nectar of the gods.) This lady knows exactly what I mean:
I particularly love vanilla, mint chocolate, and spumoni. Separately, not mixed. Gotta keep those flavors separate.
OATMEAL RAISIN COOKIES
Not the crunchy kind. The chewy: Thick. Soft. Delicious. (See above video.)
While I do like New York pizza--thin, crunchy, foldable-to-eat-it-one-handed--the true pizza fan adores Chicago pizza. It's several inches thick and stuffed to the gills with cheese, tomatoes, meat, green pepper, onions (the vegetables properly sauteed in olive oil, not just thrown on raw, thank you) and more cheese. Every slice is a meal. A full pan will put you in the hospital cause it'll spill out your ears. As all good comforts do.
Just handfuls of chocolate chips from the bag. Instant sugar rush, and your mouth vibrates if the chips are high-end chocolate. Yum!
Jays or Crunchers only. All other brands are meek. My faves have the perfect balance of oil (i.e., lots), salt and potato, and some of the chips are folded around themselves in double and triple layers. I treasure those four-leaf clovers of folded potato goodness, cause when you bite into them, you get kazipple million little crunchlets.
Because of my manly visage, you thought I only guzzled Scotch and sulfuric acid? Ha! I looooove milk. Even skim. (Even though it's kinda blue, if you look closely.) But it must be COLD. Preferably just above freezing. There is nothing worse than room temp milk. Except flat soda pop. That's worse. But just barely.
AND ... BACON!
Yesterday, Bill 'splained the glory that is bacon, and I cannot think of anything to add. Except that I love it so, even that scrawny stuff you get at the free breakfast buffet at discount hotels. And, bacon spawned one of my favorite commercials ever, which explains so much how I feel about the glory that is bacon:
And finally, my true writing-time fave. It's portable, lasts forever, and it's easily stashed in my desk drawer, where the ol' whisky bottle resided when I worked at the newspaper. (Things DO change.) It's heaven in a waxed wrapper, and I present:
THE MOUNDS BAR
Love it, love it, love it. Rich, moist coconut enfolded in dark chocolate. Two pieces in every package, and I can stick an entire bag in my bottom desk drawer, where the whiskey bottle went in my old newspaper days. Mounds bars don't need refrigeration like ice cream, or heating like pizza. Instant gratification. Nirvana--
But it was so comforting . . .
But it was so comforting . . .
When Shane Gericke isn't sitting around comforting himself--with food; get yer mind out of the gutter, you--he's writing crime thrillers like TORN APART, which Suspense Magazine just proclaimed "one of the top books of 2010." Read more at www.shanegericke.com, where you can eat all the pizza and ice cream you want cause it's digital and you won't gain weight.