Why I Left Advertising

I found this Burger King video via seattle tall poppy, my friend Traca’s blog. It shows the lengths and expense a company will go to in order to try and sell their product. It’s stuff like this that makes me glad I’m not a Mad Man anymore, or at least not in the career sense, anyway.

I started falling out of love with advertising when I was charged with making you, sane person that you are, believe if you drank Volvic Natural Spring Water you’d feel relaxed and calm. Why? The area in France the water comes from is so peaceful. The funny thing? The ads were shot in New Zealand because the exact spot in the Auvergne, home of the natural spring, is anything but lovely or peaceful.

The only way a glass of water will make me feel calm is if it comes with a side of Xanax.

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Tying Up Loose Thanksgiving Ends

Trussed Turkey

I’m not a kitchen gadget guy. I’ve never been a kitchen gadget guy. But every birthday and Christmas I invariably receive astoundingly useless gifts. There was the bagel slicer; the vacuum sealer (I actually used that one for a while); the spoons that measure a smidge, hint, pinch, and drip; and the mechanical tea-bag squeezer. All are tag-sale fodder. I prefer to use a knife to cut my bagels, tightly wrap food with plastic, pinch my own spices, and squeeze my own tea bags, thank you very much. So it’s not surprising that I looked upon thefoodloop with utter skepticism. A ribbed silicon tie that takes the place of twine? But the notion of rolling, binding, or trussing food, such as a turkey, stuffed pork loin, or a boneless leg of lamb, with just a snap intrigued me. I tried one on a roast chicken (as a test for T-Day), and it held perfectly. They’re also heat resistant up to 675 degrees in the oven, microwave, or on the stovetop, which means I can even burn dinner, and it’ll still hold together beautifully. Best of all, the loops are reusable; just wash them in hot soapy water.

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Thickest Part of the Thigh, huh?

Meat Thermometer

Every year when it came to the interminable turkey-eating season—November to New Year’s Day—I stood there holding a meat thermometer, hands trembling, face twitching, wondering if this bird would be the one I actually cooked correctly. You see, it seemed no matter what I did, I missed the mark so spectacularly that, for a while, I left the protein-cooking part of the day in The One’s hands, and I took up the immensely less intimidating baking portion of the program. But not before one memorable Thanksgiving when I had to call our friend Matty, a former butcher, into the kitchen to salvage the bird, not to mention my flagging self-esteem. (To his great credit, Matty, a man who’ll use anyone’s misfortunes as grist for a few minutes of hilarious stand-up cocktail chatter, never breathed a word of it. Or, at least, never in my presence.) Read more »

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