Thursday, May 9, 2013
If you are lucky enough to be my friend on Facebook and/or follow me on Instagram, you know that I love food, delicious food made with quality ingredients, arranged on a plate, in a bowl or between two slices of artisan bread, in an appealing manner meant to trigger one's salivary glands to overflowing. I love to eat this food and I love to photograph it to share with friends, relatives and former church youth group members I haven't spoken to in years and years.
If you are lucky enough to know and interact with me in person, you'll know that this love affair with food has, at times, led me to overeat a bit. I mean, I'm chubby. I'm not fat-I mean technically I am; I'm fat as shit--but I could stand to lose some weight (Twelve pounds, according to my doctor). I hide it well, but hiding it doesn't cut it when your clothes don't fit and you've got a kid you'd like to see graduate college someday.
So, I'm making some changes. I'm going to eat better, eat less. That's my biggest hurdle: portion control. When I chomp into something I like, look out, because I'm going to eat, like, a ton of it. I'm bad at managing my intake when I come across something particularly tasty.
When it comes to the food I snap pictures of, food almost exclusively made by my amazingly talented wife, portion control is the problem. But, unfortunately, there's another hurdle in my path to eating better, a hurdle cover with grease and a thick, brown crispy coating, and that's fast food. I'm not immune to its siren song, I'm afraid. But if I'm going to lose some weight and keep up with my daughter at our first Daddy/Daughter dance, I've got to cut that garbage out of my life. I can't see abandoning it completely (I do loves me the Taco Bell.), but I've got to cut back. But looking can't hurt, right? You can't get clogged arteries from checking out the Sunday coupon section for the latest Domino's deal or McDonald's coupons, right?
And that's why I created I Know I Shouldn't Eat Thee. Any time I come across a fast food item that captures my imagination, rather than running out to closest location and purchasing a large-sized combo meal version of it, I'll jump on Giant Electric Penguin, lust after it for a couple of minutes, and get back to my day. Maybe I'll even eat an apple or something. I won't, however, lick the computer screen. I also will not-I repeat, WILL NOT-pleasure myself to any of the pictures I post. That is my promise to you, the God-fearing reader.
Tonight I'd like to take a few minutes to admire Arby's new King's Hawaiian Roast Beef Sandwich. Now, on the surface, the King's Hawaiian doesn't seem like such a big deal. It's the same old weird "roast beef" you get on any of Arby's other sandwiches, but with a hip new twist: this "roast beef" is nestled between two pieces of King's Hawaiian bread. Do you understand what I'm saying?!? Are you getting the full impact of what this means???
If you've never had a King's Hawaiian roll, first of all, I'm sorry your parents didn't love you. And, second: dude, they're awesome! They're so sweet and soft and yummy. Quite frankly, every sandwich, fast food or otherwise, should be made on King's Hawaiian rolls. Whenever my mom brought King's Hawaiian rolls to the table, I knew some special shit was going down. This was some premium bread, man! Mom didn't break the King's Hawaiian out for any bullshit holiday; King's were for real deal holidays, like Christmas or Easter. Basically any holiday celebrating Jesus. You gonna serve Pillsbury Grands at Easter dinner?!? Blasphemy! You serve King's, Jack!
When it comes to Arby's, I like my sandwich no frills. You can toss your Big Beef 'N Cheddars and your Premium Deli Meat Blah-Blah-Blahs right in the garbage bin! Slice me up whatever the stuff you are contractually obligated to refer to as "roast beef" when speaking to a customer and shove it in a bun, please. I'll get all the Arby's Sauce I need from the Arby's Sauce pump, thank you very much. And don't be surprised if you see me working that pump for a little while. I like Arby's Sauce. Is that all right with you?
However, the King's Hawaiian Roast Beef Sandwich comes in "regular" and "swiss cheese/brown mustard/fuck-ton o pickles" models. Pickles on a roast beef sandwich?!? What the hell have I been doing all my life? Pile those pickles on, son!
Do I want a King's Hawaiian Roast Beef Sandwich from Arby's? You bet I do. Is there an Arby's a mere mile-and-a-half from the home I share with my wife and child? There certainly is and I think it's open late. Will I go purchae one immediately following the publishing of this piece? Of course not. I've got some dignity. I may sit here and look at the picture a little bit longer, but then I'll probably lumber upstairs with whatever the dieting equivalent of "blue balls" is, snuggle into bed next to my wife and dream of salads and rice cakes. Yuck. Oh, fast food, why must you be poison? Beautiful, beautiful poison.
Until next time.