Yes, folks. I am testing with this blog.
Because who gives a shit.
That's right -- this blog has beenr relegated to testing our underlying system.
How far it has fallen.
Since moving to Halifax, I've been trying to find great Chinese food. Especially a place with egg rolls of the sort that you get on PEI. The typical egg roll in Halifax has the normal shell, but the insides area a brown goopy mess. A greasy paste. Something that tastes KIND OF right, but looks and feels so wrong.
In my search, I've been collecting recommendations from locals over the past few years, with the plan to get take-out. For consistency, I'm trying to get the same thing at each place: Sweet & sour chicken balls, chicken fried rice, and — of course — an egg roll.
Today's recommendation is King Wah, a small restaurant on Quinpool Road that is fairly well known and seems to have been around for some time.
I ordered Combo Number Five, the sweet & sour chicken balls with chicken fried rice and an egg roll. It came to $10.93.
Looks alright... but no egg roll. Already things are looking bad for our contender, KW1.
I moved the food on a plate. I'm no barbarian. As I brought it to the living room so I could eat it while watching the game, I got a panicked call from KW telling me that they forgot the egg roll and they're really sorry and next time they'll give me an extra one. So that's cool.
Now, to the food.
The chicken balls are sizeable, not very crispy, and kind of bready but thanks to their size, there's also a lot of meat. They're easy to chew and not very tough. Taste OK. The sauce is a bright red, as it should be.
The rice has green things2 in it, which I don't really prefer, but they didn't take away from it too much. There's some fried egg in it too! I liked the rice. It was well done and had a pleasant taste. I think the rice may actually be the best chicken fried rice I've had in Halifax.
Overall, it was decent. I'm looking forward to trying the egg rolls so I can give a complete assessment.
Up next: Jean's? Look Ho Ho? Mall Chinese Food? Who knows?
 That's what I'm calling King Wah. From now on. I mean it.
 Scallions. Maybe other things. I don't know. I didn't check.
Well, I just had to go all vegetarian on your asses and in promptly stop updating this blog. "Well, shit," I'm sure you're thinking! Well, shit indeed! 11 meatless weeks and counting, bitches!
"So what now?" I expect you're wondering. How the fuck do I know? Maybe I can toss something together on this domain name and call it art. Maybe I could put up some sweet sepia toned pictures with hot film-stock borders and call it a gallery. Maybe I can put a ton of pictures of my ass all over the place and declare it Western Society's Inner Struggle Against Our Own Unconscious Self Loathing. Or - even better - maybe I can sell the domain to someone so they can turn it into a site of low-grade frosh week porno.
While I debate what to do with this domain, and you find yourself wanting the crap out of it, make me an offer! I'm willing to sell to the highest bidder. Provided the price is right. Let me know. Otherwise, if I come up with a sweet idea before I get a reasonable offer, I'll just go ahead with my idea. When I get one. Which isn't often.
One day, a few years ago now, spring came to PEI. It being spring, I decided that I needed to own a BBQ again. This is what happened the day I bought it.
Brand Spanking New
A Closer Look
Flipping the beast
Not the biggest thing he ever had in there
My Regular Burgers
As requested, I shall supply a video of the Scandinavian sandwich deathgrip, which allows one to retain full range of motion while handling a sandwich with no top.
This stars the hand of a real live Finn. A real live Finnish hand.
Take note of the Scandinavian sandwich: Only one piece of bread, with things on top; except this one has no things on top, because even the Scandinavian sandwich deathgrip's full range of motion cannot prevent toppings from toppling.
Autumn is the beautiful mask under which winter sneaks into our lives. That mask will be removed tomorrow, and the white monster beneath will be exposed. We'll know its presence as it waits at our windows and silently knocks upon our doors, ready with its icy fingers poised to chill us to the bone.
Most keep Old Man Winter at bay with thick coats, raised thermostats, and hot beverages. Bundled in artificial insulation, people rush to their warmed cars as they leave their heated homes and journey to furnaced shopping malls. Clothes, cars, malls - all of these things cost money. Keeping warm, it turns out, is a very expensive task.
Warmth costs so much, in fact, that one could attend many buffets with the cash they'd otherwise spend on oil and gloves. This winter, therefore, I've decided to do away with heating the air around me and covering myself with extra clothing; instead, I'm going to insulate myself with 100% me-made natural insulation - by Packing it On.
Packing it On is probably healthy and more than likely greener than burning oil (dead dinosaurs), wood (dead trees), or fossil fuels (farts). It's also hella-tastier and super easy to accomplish because you get to do all your favorite things that involve sitting, plus the added bonus of eating whatever you want. I've outlined the steps involved in case you too are interested in taking part in what I have just coined as the Greatest Money Saving Scheme of the Ages: Packing it On.
The Three Easy Steps to Pack it On:
1. A good diet is the first essential step in Packing it On; carbs, fat, and other sloppy/greasy things are all a great starting point. Be sure to keep it up, though - any slippage will only result in a cold, miserable winter. Since I fancy myself a man of taste, I decided to start with a solid helping of butter-fried perogies and onions:
Little envelopes of potato, cheese, and joy - all addressed to my mouth.
2. Sit. That's right! By doing frig all, you'll soon be wondering who the hell turned that damned thermostat up as high as it is, and why the fuck can't we open some windows for once?
3. Test. Not everyone has the same temperature "comfort zone," so it's important to gauge how well you're Packing it On. Because some like it warmer than others, it is very important for you to step outside on a frigging cold day and see how warm you feel.
It was still a bit nippy.
If you've reached the point where you've stepped outside in a snow storm, buck naked, and thought "My, what a balmy day," then congratualtions! You've succeeded in Packing it On enough to make it through the winter. In the spring, you'll notice the THOUSANDS of spare dollars sitting in your bank account, just waiting to be used up at your local buffet.
We here at quantity over quality would like to welcome Foreign Mike back to his (almost) home land. Having visited Europe and, in doing so, tasted all there is to taste, Ex-Foreign Mike has discovered that quality does indeed trump quantity among those who live across the Atlantic from us.
As a result of this frightening discovery, we've come to the conclusion that Europe must be a horrible and decidedly unfunny place to live - a land plagued with fancy and beautiful foods, each crafted with skilled hands and blatant expertise. Any given portion, tiny and wrought with flavour and beautifully crafted chocolate swirls, is eaten with tiny forks between drags from long and skinny cigarettes whilst the patrons, each wearing crisp berets cocked to one side, declare "Mon Dieu! Cette nourriture est délicieuse et petite!"
We're glad that Local Mike has returned, only slightly scathed by the works of art they call food. It is our intent to reintroduce Native Mike to North American food over the holidays. The salty, artifically flavoured and coloured greaseballs we call grub awaits eagerly its destiny held within his long-denied digestive tract.
Welcome back, Ordinary Mike. It's time to make you funny eat again.