April 2, 2009
Texas Toast Expanded and Revisited
Texas toast. Not just LARGE. Manifold. Variform. Ubiquitous.
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“Great value”
fresh baked taste
New York, Texas?
So, New York is the original Texas and we have Garlic that is made with real Garlic. Shit, no wonder these products are so popular – and there was me just toasting plain old bread and rubbing garlic in it!
I’m obviously missing out.
Check the frozen-foods section of your nearest Tesco, Phil. Surely you’ll find some variety of Texas toast.
And: once you’re home, you could be enjoying Texas toast in only five minutes! Try making toast the old-fashioned way in only five minutes.
Zero grams trans-fat.
Sheila, I am at my ideal fighting weight so trans-fats hold no fear to me, well, not unless they undo the good work of Gin!
And as for the five minute rule – we seem to be excluding the drive to the store. I can do my toast in 5 minutes and in my pants (Americans read underpants) probably more information that you need!
Do my toast? Is that an English-English expression that flies right past those of us in the States?
“She really done his toast proper, if you catch my meaning.”
Something like that?
If they have to point out it’s made with ‘real’ garlic, does that mean the toast is artificial?
Well, Cooper, I just don’t know. I’m still puzzling over those complete instant mashed potatoes that you buy in a box and apparently transform into something edible.
Ooh. That reminds me of an ancient clusterflock post.
Gotta go fire up the Folk Memory Machine and bring it forth.
Found it. Just think. Cooper, you are only a few degrees of separation from the inventor of instant mashed potatoes.
I remember when i was a kid my dad coming home with a consignment of Powdered Egg. I was a teen at the time and so naturally, real egg was a no-no! This powdered and convenient form was like alchemy to me!
I remember its passing so vividly, so painfully. Even though now I can see it was crap, I often find myself reflecting on it and wanting it. I seem to remember it scrambled particularly well – obviously boiled egg was something of a problem.
Okay, here’s a lazy Dear Clusterflock that will reside in the comments:
What “instant” food do you eat and actually like?
I sense a series of confessions coming on. Nostalgia for foodstuffs of the better-living-through-chemistry variety.
I’m having trouble thinking of anything. I mean, I do eat certain foods for convenience, but I can’t say I look forward to any of them. Oh! Except dried pasta and jarred marinara. I’ll eat that at the drop of a hat. Mmmmm. I sometimes put a big wad of pickled jalapenos on top. Mmmmmm.
“Jarred marinara”. That’s fun to say.
I really don’t do instant food – well, I guess I’m about to say but means that I do. I do have a soft spot for Hummus from the supermarket. I like to make it but always see the bought stuff as a completely different food.
Sounds almost foreign or something.
by the way, the Great Value Texas Toast is from Walmart.
Just so ya know.
Texas must be a great state. I can’t think of another state that has its own toast.
Just what would Kentucky Toast, for example, taste like?
(some of that last bit was stolen from the late Mitch Hedberg.)
Ok, an Irish spin on Jarred Marinara: “Jarred” is an old fashioned Irish way of saying “Drunk”. Ta Da.
I really don’t have any truck with dried pasta. Of any variety. But fresh pasta with, as you call it, “jarred marinara” sauce and prawns and nam pla and huge wadges of this fucking amazing oaky peaty mossy Irish brie I’ve been buying lately and we’re in business.
Ramen. I think ramen counts as instant when you compare it to what real ramen is supposed to be.
I enjoy real ramen too, but instant ramen satisfies a completely different sort of craving.
Dried pasta with jarred sauce is “instant”? Then why is it usually too much work for me to cook that for myself?
I’m with Dave on ramen. I haven’t eaten it in years, but there’s probably an archival package or two in my pantry. Bears no relation to real ramen, but that doesn’t mean it’s not appealing. Especially if you add fresh scallions and ginger, and some wasabi.
Similarly, I enjoy the completely-divorced-from-reality objects known generically as toaster pastries—e.g., Pop Tarts. Again, I haven’t had any in years.
Boxed macaroni and cheese. I’ve been craving mac ’n’ cheese lately, and it took a great deal of willpower last week to put the box of instant Annie’s Organic back on the shelf and grab two boxes of regular pasta instead.
Refrigerator biscuits, the kind that come in a cardboard tube. These accounted for probably 98 percent of the biscuits we had when I was growing up. In my family we don’t stick them in the oven, though; we pan-fry them in butter, turning to brown both sides and as much of the edges as possible. They have to be the plain kind of refrigerator biscuits, though; for a while Mom was getting some weird ones—corn-flavored or something?—that tasted so much like chemicals that I couldn’t eat them. Shoulda been packaged in a beaker.
Fish sticks. Tater tots. Both disgusting if I eat more than a very small amount, but comforting, otherwise.
I’m sure there’s a lot more instant crap that I like, but I can’t remember what it is because I never linger in those parts of the store when I go to a regular supermarket, and usually I shop at the excellent health food store that’s around the corner from me. They have instant/junk food, but it’s made of ground-up hippies, so it’s far less tempting.
Phil, they served us those powdered eggs at summer camp. It did, in fact, scramble up well. I think it’s especially appealing to people like me who are touch-and-go on eggs in general and who don’t like globs of unscrambled white or yolk in their scrambles. I kind of prefer tofu scramble, and when I lived in Sacramento I’d order that with a side of chorizo whenever we went for brunch at the Fox & Goose. Confused the waiters.
Fish sticks? Did you mention fish sticks, India?
India, do you like fish sticks? Do you like to put fish sticks in your mouth?
This is not going to work in text. I can see that now. I have great desire to see this through.
Lucy, the fish stick is certainly not my madeleine, but when I was a kid, it was the only form of fish I would eat. Now that I am all growed up, of course I vastly prefer to eat . . . fish. But fish sticks still have comfort-food value.
Yes, I understand. So you like, on occasion, to put fish sticks in your mouth, yes?
(Yes I KNOW this is not going to work in text, but please, lets move this one along. I need this.)
I will open the floor to anyone, ANYONE, who would like to tell me that they like to put fish sticks in their mouth. This is important. So, anyone: do you like to put fish sticks in your mouth? I would like to hear from those who enjoy fish sticks.
Okay, fine. “Why, yes, Lucy, I do, on occasion, like to put fish sticks in my mouth.”
Punchline?
I’m waiting.
Would somebody else like to tell a joke while we wait?
(trembling) Well then, India. Oh God. I just realised this is so not going to work. But India, then you must be a um, gay fish.
Thank you. Thank you.
(Southpark, Fishsticks episode, streaming at southparkstudios, latest season, just aired a couple of days ago, transcendental)
Tumbleweed.
Yes. I know.
I’m sorry to have to tell you so, but that was not worth it.
I guess since we’re the only two people on the Internet right now, it’s okay that you used up bandwidth for that.
Oh India.
It’s not about the finesse of the joke, it’s just about the opportunity to goof off. I do not hear the words “fish sticks” very often: in fact I think I heard them today for the first time ever (we call them fish fingers here) while watching this Fish Sticks episode of Southpark, and it was a delicious episode.
I highly recommend it.
At least you didn’t respond like Kanye West.
All the best,
Lucy
I will admit to eating a fish stick or two when trying to get my daughters to eat,and almost, well, enjoying it.
I hate when that happens.
I kind of love the fact that it doubly didn’t work:
(a) because you are a girl, and
(b) because it is a spoken pun.
It is a gentle thing.
So, Walt: you enjoy eating “a fishmumblemumbleick or two” at THE SAME TIME? Walt! You must be a gay fish! HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
It is done.
So, Lucy, tell us: do you like to put fish fingers in your mouth?
Why yes, India. On certain occasions, I LOVE to put fish fingers in my mouth. (I love where you’re going with this)
Well, I wasn’t going anywhere in particular, except to say that FISH FINGERS SOUNDS INFINITELY MORE NASTY THAN FISH STICKS.
I like you India, but I think you better leave the joke writing to me.
But sure, fish fingers, fish sticks, none of it is gonna keep the rickets away.
Also, I hope there will be no swimming in ponds or lakes during Clusterflockstock. I don’t want to be present if Lucy decides to let a fish finger her.
Oh INDIA! That’s the spirit! HAAAAAAAAAA!
I hereby anoint India, Knight Errant of the Realm of The Fish Innuendo Joke.
Arise, Sir India.
It’s not a joke. It’s the literal truth.
Yep, that was what made Bill HIcks so great, too. People like you and Bill Hicks, you just can’t help it, telling the literal truth, makin’ folks laugh their heads off. Thank you.
But seriously. I can probably decide to “let a fish finger me”. But I cannot force a fish to find me attractive.
What are you, a gay fish?
I’m sure any fish would find you attractive if you make this face again.
Just put your lips together and . . . blow.
I’m sorry, I don’t have time to watch that episode of South Park. I’m too busy reading the—
Wait! Where is everybody? Seriously, the entire Internet is at a standstill this afternoon. It’s spooky.
I was just mowing the lawn, thinking of a ‘what you need to bring to north texas in may’ email and was going to say you have to bring a swimsuit — hot-tub, pond/lake, river — regardless of whether you intend to let a fish finger you *or* swim on account of my dad will ask every time anyone else goes swimming if you want to go swimming in which case you will have to remind him you didn’t bring your swimsuit — which will mean nothing to him — which will be followed with don’t you want to go swimming and why don’t you go swimming with them? Go and get your swimsuit on.
Does your father know you talk about him this way?
Mowing the lawn. Feh. As if that’s an excuse for leaving me here all alone, at the mercy of Lucy. Can’t you just pave that shit over? You got skillz.
I am not averse to letting a fish finger me, but it won’t be while I’m wearing a swimsuit. I do not wear swimsuits, nor do I cavort in ponds, lakes, rivers or, especially, hot tubs.
Do we have anything to say about fish bones?
Lucy, I am late to the party, but, does it help that I generally will put anything in my mouth, so, I guess that includes fish sticks!
Phil, Lucy, will the two of you be making the trek across the Atlantic for clusterflockstock?
Look what happened. I showed up and everybody left.
Cindy – I have holiday booked – I have a few delicate local negotiations to tip-toe around but I am really hoping so – I will go into a major sulk if I don’t.
You know how us guys do that so well – in fact, I may have to use sulking to get my own way.
Oh I love this talk of playtime in water. I love it. My preferred combo is sauna/sea. But river sounds thrilling. I don’t believe I have ever swum in a river. It has always been sea/ocean or lake. Even in cities. No one in their right minds would swim in the Liffey, except these people.
Thanks, Phil. walt took care of that for me. Oh, [sighs] okay…
Really, Phil? What are you, some kind of a gay fish?
Clusterflockstock: phew, I really don’t know right now. I would love to. Trying to Figure Shit Out.
That’s good, Phil. If sulking is what does the trick, by all means, sulk.
I swam in the ocean once. I did not like it. In fact, I generally don’t like anything that requires a change of clothing or the necessity to venture outdoors. I’ll probably spend a good deal of clusterflockstock watching all y’all from the car.
The thing is Lucy, I said I guess that includes fish sticks having no idea what they were – Fish Fingers – now you are talking – as a kid that was the only fish I had ever eaten, it was quite a shock to see a real one dead.
I’ll swim anywhere – I’m a bit like a dog really, give me a puddle and I’m belly down in it. Not a pretty sight, but, quite a funny one I would imagine.
It might be even more of a shock to see a real one alive, and fingering you, Phil.
If you were a dog, then you would be a springer spaniel. Boy can those fellas rock in puddles.
I’m back from mowing the lawn again. That’s what happens when you don’t mow it often enough and the grass gums up the blade which causes the engine to overheat and lock up then tilting the mower back to get at the weeds floods the engine.
did you bring your swimsuit?
Lucy, I have been known to manage more than one finger at a time – a guess there is no substitute for experience and a gritty determination.
Deron, I’m pretty Phil has his on now.
I like the idea of an old thread finding new legs or perhaps fingers.
Cindy, I have always suspected there was some way for people to see what I am up to when at this computer – this confirms my suspicions – surely drinking port in a swimsuit ain’t that odd?
I never wear it mowing the lawn!
But then you Texans always seem to have a slightly different slant on reality – I am English you know – standards darling, standards.
Not at all, Phil. It saves cleanup time, I would think.
It does Cindy, but, I try to never spill drinks – it really is the slippery slope to god knows where.
the thing to remember is the answer is always yes.
Boy! What a day to be in cars and planes all day with my laptop in my checked luggage.
I got three things to say.
India, I grew up on canned biscuits, too. Mom melted bacon grease to coat the bottom of a 9 inch round, touched one flat side to the grease then flipped each over so both sides baked up crispy and golden brown. We’d have them with margarine and sugar most often. On weekends with sausage gravy.
Lucy there ain’t nothin’ like swimmin’ in a river.
Deron, I’ve been known to claim I mow the lawn in a wide-brim straw hat, speedos and flip-flops. The look would be oh-so-Picasso-on-the-beach-in-his-later-years. I’m not sure I should really pull that look out of the closet. (Oh, but wait, perhaps I’ve already disclosed that outfit and have nothing to fear from re-exposure.) Shit, yeah, y’all. I’ll swim in the river with ya.
Rick! Bacon grease! From a tin can on the back of the stove? I don’t recall Mom’s ever using it for biscuits, but she sure put it in other stuff. There is such a can on the back of my stove right now, but I’m a bit scared of it. I don’t eat nearly enough bacon to keep it fresh.
I tend to be repulsed by ponds, I’m touch-and-go with lakes, and rivers are too cold; hot tubs have never come up in my exciting life; and I hate, hate, hate being seen in a bathing suit. So it’s unlikely that you’ll see me swimming. Will there be a porch somewhere I can sit on? Or I could join Cindy in the car, if she’ll unlock the door.
I am somewhat afraid of all fish, but lake fish and pond fish frighten me more than ocean fish do. Lake fish and pond fish can lurk, then dart at you and rub your legs. It is easier to keep an eye on the ocean fish.
I have not noticed any fish difficulties in my swimming adventures. But the seaweed in Copenhagen harbour, and the jellyfish in Barcelona, they could be tricky. The seaweed was the creepiest, though once you swam out far enough you’d be out of its grasp.
used to be there was only a pond (a stock tank, really) now there is what we call a lake. I will leave it to you to see if it is large enough for that description. and the red river in may is not cold, or shouldn’t be.
there are plenty of porches. there is also a dock. and there should be enough cars for all of us as needs them.
India, you’re welcome in the car anytime. We can discuss all manner of things until the windows fog up.
My mother had a store-bought can on the stove that was inscribed: Bacon Grease. I’m pretty sure she got it with green stamps.
My mama never cooked with enough grease, thereby sowing the seeds of my rebellion.
My friends’ mamas just regular coffee cans and referred to bacon drippins.
[...] recalled of her early tenure with the [T. Marzetti] company, which also sells the New York brand of Texas toast and the Romanoff brand of caviar. “They talked about butter-flavored oil and a few other things I [...]