Kielbasa Chili with Black Beans, Honey-Jalapeño Cornbread, January 13, 2005

Kielbasa chili? You heard me. This greenhorn's flight of fancy came from this month's Bon Appétit. It turned out pretty well, though, in terms of general palatability, but thinking of it as chili proved counterproductive. Against my better judgement I globbed on the sour cream suggested in the recipe. If there is legal precedent for eating kielbasa with sour cream, I would like to hear it, but until then, I'm holding it in contempt.

I can tell you from first-hand experience that in St. Louis they put beans in chili. Kidney beans.

Dublin Dr Pepper from the original bottling plant in Dublin, Texas, January 12, 2005

I recently discovered that genu-whine DP can still be had (for a price). In Dublin, which is somewhere near Abilene, they still make it with Imperial Pure Cane Sugar instead of high-fructose corn syrup.

Beef Tacos, Las Manitas, Downtown Austin, January 11, 2005

The archetypal Tex-Mex plate.

CaraCara Orange, Balsamic Red Onion, Gorgonzola, Fig Vinaigrette January 2005

I was watching the celebrity infomercial network while I got outside of this salad, and here's what I learned: Jennifer Aniston refuses to get knocked up, so frustrated would-be family man Brad Pitt, desperate to pass his underwear-model genes on to future generations, is leaving her for sanguiphilic environmental activist Angelina Jolie! Stupid Jennifer. She's lucky she's not in jail. Now that misogyny is back on top as the glue that binds society, female celebrities who marry male celebrities are required by law to produce an heir and name it something stupid.

Fried Chicken Log from the Carryout Counter, Blackeyed Pea Salad, Roasted Squash with Onions January 2005

I don't know why I thought it would be a good idea to eat a carry-out fried chicken log off a plate that looks like a giant ice chip, but I went ahead and did it, rightly or wrongly.

Quiche: Spinach, Swiss Madrigal, Canadian Bacon, Elvis' Birthday, 2005

I consumed this egg pie while watching Skinny Elvis try to play a high school senior in "Kid Creole." Then I got to thinking about poor fat dead Elvis. I remember when I read Elvis' tombstone at Graceland, which says "And God Called Elvis Home," I started laughing at the idea of God as a desperate Elvis fan, but was soon squelched by stink-eyes from all the fat white women attending the grave. In certain circles, apparently, dead Elvis is not funny.

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