72oz steaks, 11lb pizzas, 10 layers of dead cow…
If there’s one thing I’ve learned from watching countless episodes of ’Man v. Food’ on Dave it’s that Americans certainly adhere to stereotype. As the loveable Adam Richman (in a cute, teddy-bear kinda way) guides us on a whistle-stop tour of America’s most outrageous restaurants and cafes, there’s not a glimpse of leafy greens in sight. Living in Britain, Americans have undoubtedly become synonymous with obesity (in fact, many blame them for the sudden influx of our ‘fast food culture’), since we’re forever being inundated with images of grease-ridden portions being manhandled by sausage roll-like arms.
Now, admittedly, I am your archetypal Brit in as much as I’m a serial tea drinker but I don’t worship the Queen nor do I speak with Received Pronunciation (or indeed Dick van Dyke’s ‘Cockney-cum-Australian’ accent). Sadly however, or so I have witnessed, Americans can’t seem to fit their bellies through that window of escape in a desperate attempt to flee from the portly pigeonholing, instead opting for the comfort of their armchair and a bag of ‘chips’. Don’t get me wrong, I realise that this is not representative of the whole population (to be honest, I source most of my information purely from the show itself) but what I have witnessed certainly has been an education… in how to guarantee blood in your shit the following day.
Crime number one:
So let us begin! Right, now we all know how delicious cheese is… boy is it one sexy dairy product… but its tasty qualities don’t justifying it being plastered onto every food possible! Don’t get me wrong here guys, I don’t mind seeing cheese on maybe burgers or chicken (hell, even some pork with gorgonzola’s nice!) but with battered fish?! NO! Dial 999/911 please! I need the food police to come and stop this monstrosity! As Diana Ross beautifully put it “stop in the name of food!” (well, something along those lines at least…). Joking aside, the fish/cheese combo is wrong in every way.
It’s like having a romantic kiss… with your own sister; brushing your teeth… with a tramp’s toenails; Dick van Dyke talking… with a cockney accent…
Crime number two:
Ok, so now to the second crime – portions. Unnecessarily gargantuan would be an understatement. I realise that the whole premise of this show is to find the ridiculously portioned plates and, I agree, that it is fun to watch countless meat sweats being induced by said meals however I don’t understand why they have to be so blooming big! “Ok, so we start with a slice of bread for the base (seems fair enough). Next we add the fried chicken… a layer of cheese (sure…), the 4-inch thick hamburger… another layer of cheese (why not, it is, after all, the key ingredient to EVERY meal), then the 10lb brisket, two more fried chicken breasts, the second hamburger, mustard sauce… deep-fried cheese cubes (well this is just getting ridiculous) and finally the top half of the bun.” Phewwy, it’s over… but, oh no, what’s this on the top? Impaled by a spike sits a gurken. Lying in a comatose state thinking, “why the bloody hell am I here?” And it does beg the question… what does it add to the meal?
It’s like jumping the Grand Canyon wearing a sweater instead of a t-shirt… Wearing a belt with jeans that fit perfectly anyway… Dick van Dyke in Mary Poppins wearing glasses…
Crime number three:
Now, finally, this is the last problem – IT IS NOT FINE CUISINE! No matter how much you try to hoodwink us, there is no way one can class this as cordon bleu. The problem is that everything looks so bloody cheap and nasty, like the cheese for example, it doesn’t even look real! For me I’d much rather have some fine Italian cuisine rather than these 45-thick pizzas with grated arse on them. It’s worse than DICK VAN DYKE’S ACCENT IN MARY POPPINS!
Let’s be honest though… despite the abominations such as the one shown above, I do love this show and I love you America!
If chips be the answer, send forth!
Or heaven purge another starch-ridden
Antidote for my hunger.
Shy not from the relinquishing of your golden goods, for
I seek to inhale, exhale and embrace all that you throw at me,
We’ll lead the crusade against the caustic inconveniences that corrode my
Screams of mercy shall greet my three-pronged General,
The war is not lost.
There will be men and women, who sit and stare, not care,
Slurping copious amounts of coffee…
…since when was a moustache a welcome addition to a man’s upper lip?
Whereas Tom, he has the right idea.
A warm wad of moss hanging from his cliff-like jaw,
The long lost piece to finish Mr. Tash’s jigsaw, yet it’s
Absent, missing, nonexistent,
Those rascal hairs have played truancy and deserted the poor sod,
Fear not though for he bears a gift of green,
Fairy dishwasher tablets for tea bags?
No thanks sir, an Assam will do just fine,
Surely nothing could be more horrendous, useless… unless
There are high visibility jackets in conditions of considerable
Visibility, then we shall try, feebly,
To break out the enviable obscenities for a quick swig,
Stand up, be a man,
Murdock would have a blind stab at it,
For God’s sake, even Tash would!
Too much choice? But
Choice doesn’t make us indecisive, having to decide does.
But now they leave,
Tash in tack,
Tablets in good knick,
Their faces exhibiting the cockle-warming benefits of a nice tomato soup,
Personally, the chips would have been better, but
Who am I to say?
Come closer; let me whisper in your ear,
Psst, oi, I’m talking to you!
All I wanted to say was that…
…a fork really is a man’s best friend.