Remember the Oven-Cam? Remember the gratuitous references to sci-fi movies? Remember Alton's wonderful, staccato voice explaining how to hard-cook eggs? They're all back. And boy are our inner nerds happy.
Calling it right now: the next K-cup phenomenon, provided this oatmeal one takes off -- which it will, because the American people are apparently obsessed with foods that come out of pods with the assistance of hot water -- will be ramen K-cups.
Monica Eng, of NPR's Chicago affiliate WBEZ has spent the better part of two months trying to get the Chicago Public School system to admit what's in its taxpayer-subsidized school lunch chicken nuggets.
Apparently, lyric videos have taken on a similar production value to real music videos, because Katy Perry's lyric vid for her new single "Birthday" stars both her, and what appears to be a complicated take of scrolling lyrics written across various cake props.
Recently, Men’s Health ran a contest to find the nine most manly restaurants in America, seeking the most testosterone-y joints in categories such as barbecue, pizza, steak, tacos, and “adventurous eating” (think Chris Cosentino). Though they were only trying to celebrate manhood, some media watchdogs claimed that they were labeling foods by gender. What is it, the New York Timesasked, that made all these foods manly, “when so many millions of women are fond of barbecue, pizza, steak, tacos, burgers, sandwiches and brew pubs”?
As a staff of women, we can tell you that the answer is, to be frank, quite simple. We may eat manly food, but it’s not because we’re eating food. We’re really eating our feelings.
So when the Times wondered whether a womanly magazine would front their own contest celebrating culinary womanliness, we at the Braiser put our ovaries together and came up with our own list of the nine womanliest restaurants in America, celebrating the yummy things that make up womanhood: marriage, friendship, shopping, and expressing our emotions. Have a night out at these restaurants with your gastronomic gal pals — as long as you’re not being visited by Auntie Flo! Are we right, ladies?