SNACKslut

a sassy snack sesh, piggy-backing off the wkndr, just like a snack would.

It’s time to take back the word slutty and use it for what it should be used to describe: food.

Never heard that term before?

Slutty (pronounced slu-tee), adj

meaning - food that is excessive. 

Food that fills that deep void in the corner of your belly and coats your insides with what you now might just consider to be your last meal, cravable, nasty but in a good way, sit in a dark corner of a restaurant so people can’t watch you, feel embarrassed when you eat in public and definitely don’t make eye contact with that stranger stopped at the light beside you, drips down your chin onto the t-shirt you JUST washed, dream about it every night and fantasize when you can eat it again (is it too soon? will i get too fat too quickly? will they recognize me if I order again within the week? are my jorts going to fit next summer?). slutty.

synonyms: saucy, fatty, greasy, cheesy, juicy, gooey, buttery, drippy

antonyms: brown rice, an undressed salad, dry wheat bread, sauce on the side (unless it’s extra sauce or you’re a freak and need to hang onto every ounce of control). 

Okay, now use it in a sentence.

“That burger was so goddamn slutty.”

“This BLT doesn’t have enough mayonnaise; I need it to be sluttier.”

“I need a slutty snack right now or I’m going to lose my cool and have a melt down in the middle of this too long of a meeting that could’ve been an email and all I ate yesterday was a bag of raisins.”

Very good.

Now what makes something slutty? 

I’m not saying a salad can’t be slutty. It can. Think: marinated tomatoes, avocado, creamy dressing, cheese, fresh herbs, or some delightful crunch. Same with a rice bowl (ooh, thanks for stopping by mr runny egg yolk and you sweet crispy, tacky pork belly thing, you). Just remember, counter that fat with something acidic. Add that sauce and make it drip! Make that sandwich wet! 

The important thing is fat, acid, umami, and general unctuousness.

As we explore the WKND, I’ll give you a low down of the slutty snacks we ate along the way. Stay tuned...

Britt ate a mortadella sandwich on shitty white bread with mayonnaise, american cheese, shredded lettuce, and giardiniera pickling liquid while writing this, and it dripped all over her keyboard. The way it should. Anyway, just remember Jamie Malone proofread this. 

Annoyed with the sass and parenthesis? Read a real writer and head over to Joe’s A day in the life of an oyster. 

SNACKslut: LA edition

LA. How do we even start with this one? We ate so much. Which seemed very different than our Duxbury trip.

I’m pretty sure I licked (but not ate) twenty different hot dogs and ten different donuts. You’ll see the video…

We had a rough time getting our reserved rental cars (thank you, Hurricane Ida) and waited in the airport for awhile. When we finally got to our hotel, we had a snack sesh at the bar below us. Onion rings with spicy mayo, sweet potato fries, chicken wings, fries with gravy (very lumpy) and melted cheese (one solid brick), and another round of onion rings and chicken wings. Those onion rings. Slutty. The onion didn’t pull from your mouth as you took a bite. The batter was tender, crispy, and light.

We went to Grand Central Station to get footage and maybe piece together an hors d’oeurves (we had a plan for everything else). What we found was eggslut (love that name, obvi), papusas, chicken wings, shishito peppers, michelados, stuffed donuts, tacos that were so heavy I thought we were given burritos, etc.

I’ll talk eggslut. I’ve wanted to try their egg sandwiches ever since I heard that name (it’s perfect!). I would’ve liked more sauce (as always) as brioche, even baked fresh that day, can become a little dry. We had three different sandwiches. The one with scrambled egg and caramelized onion was good, but I like a sandwich that drips and is moist- and I’m not just talking egg yolk. But try it for yourself!

Next, PINK’S! Okay, once I saw this place I practically begged Jamie to go to there. Okay, what I mean is I brought it up enough times that I think she listened (hi, I’m from the midwest). I mean, right up our alley, right? It’s pink. It’s hot dogs (okay, right up my alley). What more could we want? I waited in line for almost an hour, got pulled away to do a little video (hopefully it turns out, tbd) while Ryan ordered. A Martha Stewart, a spicy Chicago polish dog, and one other, ask Ryan, okay? The dogs were pretty good! It’s famous for a reason and holds up to it! My only critique was the bun - I just want a soft and squishy bun. But the hot dogs had a good snap and the toppings didn’t take away from the actual dog itself.

Next, the classic debate of “Can a chain restaurant be called slutty?” Okay, my debate. But the answer is usually yes. We ate at Weinerschnitzel. A hot dog chain restaurant. I’ll repeat, a hot dog chain restaurant. And yes, worth it. The hot dogs come in individual cardboard-boat clamshells. They are so cute. And their buns…so soft. The dog…so snappy. The toppings…so perfect. The pink drink…cutest cup. I’ve almost never been more impressed by fast food (I’m sorry, whopper jr, you have competition), but these dogs… again, a dog is always a 10. I went up to their outdoor window and ordered two, and then I was too embarrassed to order another round that we made Niki drive through their window to order more.

Next up on the after-snacks - after our tour of Randyland - we went to Frank and Musso’s, an old school classic steakhouse. The bar was beautiful and the gentlemen that were working there had worked there for years. The classic bartenders, full of charisma and knowledge, knew that bar like the back of their hand. Their claim to fame is their service but also their martini. Hello. Complete with two perfect olives on a toothpick.

(Okay, I’m convinced Jake Johnson (Nick from New Girl) was at the bar and he and his friend had tried to steal our spots at the bar but they were cool. A girl can dream (but I was honestly googling images the entire time).)

We ordered french fries (obviously), shrimp cocktail (again, obvi), a tartare that we didn’t order but made its way to the bar, and the coldest, snappiest celery served on a bed of ice (honestly hate this term but it works here) filled with bleu cheese dressing. I’m not a fan of celery usually. I hate the “string” of it and the flavor doesn’t do much for me either. But this. This was one of the best bites I have had in awhile. It was so cold, no stringiness, perfect. It’s like what you want the celery to be when you order buffalo wings with a side of bleu cheese - but the celery just sits there untouched. Not this. Can a vegetable like celery be called “slutty?” One hundred percent yes, in this case, but I doubt I will ever use those two words in a sentence ever again. Honestly, still dreaming of that crunch.

LA, you have some slutty food. I would never want to live there because, damn, all that driving, but I’ll visit for the food.

(Britt ate a vinegared tomato salad with burrata, basil, and arugula while writing this. And a brown butter basted pork chop. YES! Vegetables CAN be slutty. But that pork chop…)

SNACKslut: bill summerville edition

Okay. First things first. Bill didn’t have any snacks in his house... at the start. Believe me. I looked when we were shooting in his house. Or maybe he just hides it. I know, I’m snoopy. But hey, a girl’s gotta get her snacks!

(I will say, Ryan did order gyros. Thank the gods for him, but it wasn’t that slutty.)

We ended up coming back to his house later that week where Jamie cooked two bone-in ribeyes in his fireplace while we were getting more footage and sound bites.

AND THAT’S WHEN WE HAD SNACKS.

Bill had knock off Ritz crackers (and they were still buttery flaky crisps! Thank you, Whole Foods) and a delightful trout spread that really made it impossible to stop snacking. Seriously, what is up with fatty flaky fish + cream cheese + herbs + lemon? It’s honestly just the perfect snack that I’m going to keep eating until I ask “where did the spread go?”. It’s who I am, okay?

Not only that, but Jamie baked two small wheels of Petite Gres in little baking dishes in Bill’s fire until they were so soft and sultry that I either wanted the room to myself or take a cold shower. A thick spread of soft melted cheese on one of those knock-off-Ritz made my whole night better (but how could it be bad with Marco making cocktails, Bill pouring wine, and Jamie making magic in a fireplace?).

I will say, Bill tried to make some good slut snacks happen while in Plymouth, MA (he also made sure we were fed throughout the trip). We went to this Irish townie bar (pretty sure Bill was in a striped turtleneck with a v neck sweater over top but that might just be how I picture him in general) and he DID order hot dogs (to my absolute delight) but the owner came up to us and literally stated, “Yeah…we just don’t care here. I don’t have any hot dog buns…but we do still have hot dogs.” Bill said no. I respect that AND the owner’s honesty. But damn, the temptation.

Anyway, I ended up schmoozing up to the owner and asked if there was anything else in the area. He offered the full (and still semi-warm!) pizza that was sitting at the bar in a box that nobody was going to eat. YES! We were desperate. But hey, free pizza and good vibes in the bar? You just can’t beat it. And the pizza was actually pretty good. I’ll let Bill take the credit for that one (even if it was me asking).

(While writing this, Joe made staff meal. A BLT with the perfect amount of mayonnaise. As in, it’s all over the back of my hand and my jeans. Obviously, I’m so happy.)

SNACKslut: SHELLFISH edition

On our trip to Duxbury and surrounding areas, we didn’t have much time to actually EAT because, while we had the best time ever, we were still expected to “work”. But we DID happen to eat some slightly slutty food. 

Island Creek Oysters served us hot dogs, potato chips, and CAVIAR (next to their beautiful oysters and tinned fish spread, okay?). But next to those plump oysters, those hot dogs were the star of the show. Packets of mustard, ketchup (um, where’s the mayonnaise?), and Cape Cod potato chips were tucked in next to those shiny gorgeous meat tubes surrounded by a soft and squishable bun. I built myself a little hot dog, added caviar and potato chips and woof. Talk about a magic day. A snappy salty hot dog with a cold smattering of umami bursting roe - and that crunch crunch?! Let me quote Jay Z when I say, uh huh, uh huh. On a scale of one to slutty, I’d give it a 10 (but all dogs are tens).

Next, let’s talk about caviar’s best friend: the potato chip. Yeah, yeah, some of you are murmuring what about blinis? oysters? champagne? butter? Get out of here with those obvious friends. When caviar is having a bad day, she knows who to call. What better way to scoop up a mouthful than with a potato chip? Preferably kettle. It’s the snack you want to eat in bed while binge watching Pretty Little Lies in your footie pajamas with your window shades pulled down (don’t look at me!). But again, it’s that crispy crunchy salty chip with a mound of delicate and briny pop of clean ocean water. Salt on salt. Can we stop calling caviar a luxury and just call it a slutty snack? 

On a more serious note, obviously a great snack choice when you’re in New England is the lobster roll, uh doi. It seems like everyone from the east coast has their opinion on which is the “right” way to make a lobster roll. Maine vs Connecticut (I’m not even going to ask people from Massachusetts what they think as their state doesn’t even have a lobster roll named after them. *cough* losers *cough*). The basic difference is the Maine Lobster Roll is cold with mayonnaise and tarragon (what Connecticut-ites call a “lobster roll salad”, excuse me, snob alert) and the Connecticut roll is served warm with the lobster tossed in melted butter. They both have potential to be slutty as long as the details are nailed: a toasted bun, enough herb-y mayonnaise or melted butter, and perfectly poached lobster. I’ll let you decide which one I prefer. 

And finally, a snack I didn’t even want to talk about but feel like I need to: the Fluffernutter, this time actually originating in Massachusetts, way to go, bud. 

Story time: when I was of a nerdy single digit age, I went over to my aunt’s house and she made us lunch. She took out slices of bread, spread peanut butter on one side and marshmallow fluff on the other, and joined the slices in holy matrimony. I, however, did not think that was lunch! (side note: my parents were health freaks when we were younger and we barely saw the inside of a bag of potato chips.)

I didn’t know the name of it then but when we were in a bar in Plymouth and Ryan ordered one as a snack, that memory came flooding back. It was dry. But it could have been good - especially if I was more into peanut butter and sweet things in general. This one: not so slutty. But you decide for yourself.

I’ll stick with the caviar + chips, please, and a side of hot dog. 

Do yourself a favor and order hamburgeras el gordo. I cannot be more delighted with this torta + cheeseburger mashup.