The Amateur Gourmet

As part of my promise to be an endlessly amusing source of food arcania, here is my pledge to you: each Thursday night I will write, perform and record a song for you about what I ate for dinner.

Tonight's selection is called "Burrito" and requires two things from you:
1. iTunes. I think you need iTunes to play it because my computer (a beautiful Apple) only records things in m4a format, not mp3.
2. The willingness to download it by following this link:

http://homepage.mac.com/adrober/.cv/adrober/Public/Burrito%20Song.m4a-binhex.hqx

Believe me, it will be very much worth your while. The Burrito song is an instant classic, inspiring Burrito eaters everywhere to join together in song. Hope you will too.

PS If anyone can tell me how to (a) convert an m4a into an mp3 and (b) how to post the song directly on to this page, I will be eternally grateful.

As per my promise to serenade you each Thursday night with the contents of my meal, I present you now with a masterwork entitled "(Tonight We Dined At) Osteria" with music by Andrew Lloyd Webber and lyrics by yours truly. The attachment is in mp3 format and should, therefore, be accessible to all of you.

Download file

And, as if that weren't enough, I also took pictures of the food so as to create a multi-dimensional listening-viewing experience for you all. For maximum effect, view the pictures as their contents are mentioned in the song. This will create a "music video" effect, tricking your brain into thinking you're watching MTV. If, however, you begin to see visions of Kelly Osbourne afterwards contact a therapist immediately.

1. Caesar Salad

2. Pasta (with mussels)

3. Pizza (with mushrooms and proscuttio)

Here's a cheatin' song about dinner:

Download file

My apologies to any legitimate blues singers.

A strange, stream-of-consciousness Thursday night dinner song.

Enjoy!

Download file

What is happening? Has the world come to an end? How can the Amateur Gourmet possibly have a Thursday Night Dinner Song when it's only Wednesday? HELP ME, I'M SO CONFUSED!

Settle down, dear reader. The Amateur Gourmet understands your plight and is here to explain. As mentioned in a previous post, The Amateur Gourmet (who will stop referring to himself in the third person now) is involved with a Valentine's Day show this weekend called "The VD Show" performed by Out of Hand Theater Thursday, Friday, and Saturday at CJ's Landing in Buckhead. (For you non-Georgians, that's in Atlanta).

The show is a really fun, really dirty, really wild tribute to life, love and the pursuit of sex with hookers. I contributed two pieces: a musical, "The Boy Who Went Blind," which ends the show; and "Women Outside The Bakery" which comes halfway through the second act. In it, three women sit in their cars eating pastries, mourning their lots in life with song. And since it's about food, tonight I thought: "Hey! I'll bring a recorder to rehearsal and capture the song for the website! That way my readers will be inspired to purchase tickets and accost me after the show!"

So without further adieu, here are Maia, Ariel and Catherine with "Women Outside The Bakery"!

Download file

Hahahahaha.

Me + Burrito + Apple's new Garageband software = Disturbing Latin Rap Song. Enjoy!

Download file

Book, Music and Lyrics: The Amateur Gourmet
Dinner Monologues: Josh
Featuring: The Amateur Gourmet, Josh and Katy

Download file

Glitches and travel aside, I have composed and recorded a swishy song commemorating all the meals consumed over Spring Break. I give you: The Break That Was Spring! (Apologies to Rogers, Hammerstein, and especially Julie Andrews).

Download file

Tonight we go country as I conjure forth my favorite place to lunch, brunch and munch.

Oh, and the part where I say "The pebby makes my bagel," I am really trying to say "The lady makes my bagel." Forgive that. I have a speech impediment.

Download file

With apologies to Outkast and special thanks to Lauren who plays The Chicken and The Sorority Girl.

Download file

Because I'm leaving tomorrow afternoon for NYC, and because I've been song negligent two weeks in a row, I thought I would treat you tonight to a special Wednesday night Thursday Night Dinner Song.

Before we go there, though, I would like to pat myself on the back.

(Adam pats himself on the back).

Why am I doing this?

Well first of all, I have very low self-esteem.

Second of all, though, tonight I was headed--sadly enough--to a grungy chain sandwich shop, akin to Subway but not as good, for a meatball sub because (a) it would be fast, (b) it would be filling, and (c) I could study while I ate.

But as I was sitting in traffic on Piedmont Road waiting to turn left, I thought about my harsh critique of American eaters and realized: "I am the pot! I am calling America black!"

"Whatcyu talkin' about Willis?"

"Sorry. You know what I mean, Gary Coleman."

"All right."

So I spun my car around and headed to Fat Matt's Rib Shack for genuine American cuisine. Aha! I realized. Here is authentic American food! BBQ! I mean other cultures have BBQ--Koreans have BBQ, for example--but American BBQ has a rich, savory history. This was just what the doctor ordered. I had the pulled pork sandwich with beans and coleslaw:

Let it be said that tonight the Amateur Gourmet led by example. I hope the next time you're in your car headed to a dreary routine meal you spin your wheels around and head for something fresh and exciting. No, Hugh Grant, not that kind of fresh and exciting. You Brits are such pervs.

Here's your Thursday Night Dinner Song, featuring yours truly on guitar. (I got 60% of the chords right).

Download "A Pulled Pork Sandwich."

Tonight we grieve for the end of one of our most sacred cultural institutions. Let this song provide comfort in our time of need:

Click me to mourn with music.

It took up too much refrigerator space. I'm moving to New York. It looked so nasty.

I mean, look the container was gigantic:

Yet for those who followed my travails of bread production as documented in the Funny Food Film "Project Sourdough," you will be heartbroken to know that tonight I did what was inevitable. I poured my starter down the drain:

Of course emotions are running high in Apartment 1352 tonight. The death of a beloved yeast is never easy. Here is a song to help us cope, hat-tip to the cast of A Chorus Line:

Download "What I Did For Bread"

This one is stretching it: vocally, musically and just--errr--goodily. I can never get the opening riff of this song right and that last note is--errr--a little hard to hit. Forgive me, Jim Morrison. I am no Lizard King.

Download "I Cooked A Chicken on the Fire."

My chopsticks Pygmalion saga is still a work-in-progress. I'm Eliza Forkhappy. I really like using a fork, even when chopsticks are an option. I only use chopsticks, really, for sushi. And even then, I'd be just as happy using a fork. Or my fingers. I'm not what you'd call a "chopsticks advocate." This is progress, though, from the vitriol I espoused years back to college friends who I felt "pretentiously" and "unnecessarily" used chopsticks to eat food that worked perfectly well with a fork. And thus tonight, while eating a sushi salad, the idea for a dinner song came to me:

May you see the error of your ways.

Download The Anti-Chopsticks Song.

I have always hated breakfast.

As a child I thought nothing was worse than mushy pancakes, that French toast was the most abominable creation known to man, and that eggs were watery gooey clumps of yellow matter my mom threw on my plate as punishment. The one time I attempted to help her cook them, I scorched my hand (and I still have the scar).

Gradually, I came out of my shell, but for the most part I followed the model set forth by my dad: breakfast was a time for Entenmann's chocolate donuts or lemon coconut cake, washed down with sugary sweet Ruby Red or overly pampered coffee.

I never fell into a good breakfast pattern. I am, by nature, a late sleeper, so in college I'd schedule all late classes and wake up in time for lunch. For law school, I'd usually wing my morning class on an empty stomach.

Interestingly, the most breakfasty thing I eat during the day is usually consumed at lunch: a bagel and cream cheese. Otherwise, my mornings involve loud gurgling noises at school or something hastily scarfed down pre-identification.

[To quickly address a reader's query: my favorite cereals, off the top of my head, include: Honeycomb, Life, Kix, and if I'm feeling really naughty Applejacks or Lucky Charms. In essence: candy.]

I have evolved, though, to the point where I do enjoy breakfast out at restaurants. I really like waffles and well-prepared omelletes; I'm partial to a berry-flecked French toast, and occassionally I'll risk a mushy pancake. But when it comes to cooking breakfast at home, the only scrambling I do is scrambling through the pantry last-minute for a granola bar or a Pop Tart.

For tonight's song, I blues it up a bit with a riff from "Five Guys Named Moe" bemoaning my inability to find substantive food in the morning. Enjoy!

Download "Early In The Morning (Nothing To Eat)"

Parenting a cat requires patience and petting and plenty of crunchy cat treats. It also requires honesty; which is why tonight proved so difficult.

Lolita approached me at my desk:

"Dad?" she asked innocently enough.

"What is it son?" I replied.

"I'm a girl," she hissed.

"Oh, yes," I said, blowing a bubble. "How can I help you?"

"Where does meat come from?"

Oh boy.

Here she was, my little furry animal, asking the question no parent of a furry animal wants to answer. What made it worse was that earlier tonight I ate another furry animal--well not as furry, but slightly hairy--a pig at Fat Matt's:

Then it occurred to me that, in many ways, I'm a hairy animal too. I have hair on my head, hair on my chest (ha!) and hair between my toes. Lolita and I are in the same boat.

"Look, Lola," I explained. "We're all animals, see. And animals, by nature, eat other animals. Which is why you and I both have canine teeth."

I pulled up her gums and tapped on her canine. She hissed.

"Look at Andrew for example..."

"...he is an animal eating another animal. Does that make him a bad animal? No. It just makes him an animal."

Lolita was unimpressed.

"Then look at Trinh..."

"...see what she's eating? She's eating Andrew. She ground him up into a sandwich. That's just the way it works."

Lola began gnawing at my foot.

"Ow," I said.

Thank God Mickey Dolenz came in and performed his Monkees Meat-Eater Medley.

Lola loves the Monkees, much like Marsha Brady. She bopped along, tail-wagging. I slipped out quietly. My work here was done.

Download The Monkees Meat-Eater Medley.

This is a lame return, I must admit. It's one of my favorite songs. But two factors fail us:
(1) I use the verb "try" which is weak when compared to the original "fall." "Try" isn't really active. I should've "tried" something better.
(2) The recording skips in important places. I will paste the lyrics in the comments so you can know what it is that I am singing.

And with that lovely introduction, here it is: "I'll Never Try To Cook Again."

Here Lisa and I present a sweet and serious song about our dinner at Chennai Garden. Our thanks to The Association.

Indy (An).

A long time ago in a land far away my friend Annette took me to lunch at Kitchenette near the World Trade Center. This was after September 11th but before I moved to New York and I remembered the place as a very cute, very cozy family type joint with breakfast food and biscuits and lovely looking home baked goods. Today I invited Lisa to escape her office for a bit and join me on the 1/9 train for a ride down to Chambers street and West Broadway where Kitchenette is located. Here's the view upon our arrival:

People really love Kitchenette. I just Googled it and raves appeared from Chowhound and The Girl Who Ate Everything. I raved about it a few years ago but let me tell you right off the bat today's experience was pretty sucky.

First of all the service sa-HUCKED. This guy (he seemed nice enough) was the waiter for the entire restaurant and it took forever to get his attention at every point in the meal: to get our menus, to get water, to order our food, to get our food, to have our food cleared and to pay the check. Each time I tried to catch his eye and when I did he looked flustered. It's never fun when your very busy waiter makes you feel guilty for wanting him to be more attentive; it's like going to therapy while your therapist is giving birth to triplets. (Ha, ok that's a stretch but I enjoy it.)

Now if we'd ordered breakfast food maybe we would have loved the Kitcenette experience and longed for a return visit. As it stood, I ordered turkey meatloaf with mashed potatoes and gravy for $9.50:

(Take note: this constitutes the FIRST ground meat of the day. It's ground meat Thursday and there's a song so you really have to pay attention.)

This dish was fine. I liked it fine. Considering it was turkey, I suppose it was better than fine because it tasted worse for me than it was. But at the same time it also tasted like cafeteria food. It's like you pay a lot of money to eat the same dishes they eat in prison or high school or a high school prison.

But Lisa's dish. Ugh. Now Lisa ordered a veggie burger and when it came I think I was more grossed out than she was even though she was, as you can see by this picture, a bit grossed out:

On the bread was a mushy mound of lentils, rice and carrots.

"This is not a burger," said Lisa, sadly.

It surely wasn't. I appreciate the fact they were trying to assemble something new or different or maybe even (in their minds) texturally interesting, but if you advertise a veggie burger people are going to want a veggie burger.

Lisa made her way through it and as I kept shaking my head and saying "I can't believe that's their veggie burger" she said: "I think you're more bothered by it than I am." She wasn't grossed out but she was in no way impressed. "It's just really bland," she said, "it doesn't taste like anything."

After spending 10 minutes to flag down our waiter for a check, we went to the pastry counter and ordered what Kitchenette's best known for: pastries. We took these outside and snapped photos. Here's Lisa's cupcake: (haha, imagine if I REALLY showed you Lisa's cupcake)

And here's my Linzer cookie:

I don't know if Lisa liked her cupcake because she took it back to work. My cookie was very good but I'm not rushing back there to have another.

****

Now then: part two in our Ground Meat Thursday. Tonight I joined Patty and Kirk for dinner. We whipped out or Sietsema guide and meandered around Greenwich Village looking for a place to eat. This exercise can either be really fun or really frustrating. Tonight started out fun but then grew frustrating. On the way we saw Natalie Portman, shaved head, eating at The Spotted Pig. We ended up on Greenwich Avenue and ate dinner at a Franco-Brazilian fusion joint called La Palette:

The menu had the weirdest mix of food. There were crepes, there was steak, there was pasta, there was beef stroganoff. When the waitress came I asked her what was her favorite thing on the menu and without a beat she said: "The burger." When I asked her why she said: "We grind our own meat here" (**Ground Meat Thursday!) "and they put all kinds of flavors in and they put an egg on it and it's just really good."

Indeed she was right. Check out my burger, yo:

It was mighty tasty with the egg and the fries and the salad. A nice conclusion to a ground meat Thursday that had a bumpy start.

And what better way might one memorialize a day of ground meat than through the magic of music? I made the following track on Garageband. It's 55 seconds long and has me singing in a high falsetto and rapping. (Actually, it's not much different than my second burrito song, except this one's got a 70s Boogie Nights vibe.) Hope you enjoy it!

Listen to "GRIND YOUR MEAT."