I was NOT too cowardly to buy and/or eat THIS, however. Unfortunately?

So, I didn't have the mettle to commit to a pasta-stuffed Hot Pocket, but I decided to indulge my curiosity by trying another highly commercialized food product--pumpkin pie-themed, mass-produced yogurt.

It was okay, I guess?

But it was NOT pumpkin-pie-flavored enough to deserve that title!!! It actually tasted like chai tea, kind of. At least, it tasted like it wouldn't be out-of-place being called "chai tea yogurt."

But there was no pumpkin to be identified in the flavor, which is sad, because I really like pumpkin. In fact, on more than one occasion, a couple of years ago, I'd buy a $5.99 huge pumpkin pie from Costco, and just eat that for breakfast and lunch for a week, to save money. I would typically lose a little weight and experience stabler blood sugar than usual when doing so, which indicates two things:

1. I must have been eating pretty poorly, for my body to react to an all-pie diet with "FINALLY, SOME VEGETABLES!"

2. Pumpkin pie is a truly singular pie. High in fiber, its main ingredient is hearty and nutritious vegetable pulp, and it's eggier than a fruit pie, virtually an egg custard, in its way. Pumpkin pie is a miracle food. More than any other that I've experienced, it is a healing pie

I was therefore hoping to have a proper pumpkin-themed yogurt experience. I know that the yogurt manufacturers have the technology to pull this off. They make foam yogurts! The chemists responsible for designing the flavors and textures in mass-produced yogurt products wield an intimidating power to control the food elements. And they CHOSE to label a passable chai yogurt "pumpkin pie." Perhaps just to spite me, and others like me? No. More likely out of laziness.

I respect laziness, I've been known practice laziness (especially while asleep), and I don't want to resent the Yoplait chemists for taking laziness to the next level. But on this occasion, I kinda do.

I was too cowardly to buy and/or eat this.

Sure, the spouse and I both pointed at this box in unison, with the classic "Wait, wait, wait, what?!?" that certain commercial products deserve.

This item in particular is The Most Dada Hot Pocket Ever. It's filled with pasta?!?

I'm happy about this, and part of me wants to eat it, but I'm just too nervous about what an explicit carb-bomb it is.

Sure, I've eaten (and really loved) my friend Jeff's spaghetti sandwiches, and as a teenager I used to just eat slice after slice of bread the way other kids ate potato chips. So it's not like I can really claim the culinary sainthood needed to cop a holier-than-thou position of condescension, when I approach the subject of pasta-filled Hot Pockets.

However, I know that if I ate one, the sodium would cause my body to retain water like... Well, like the whole rest of the Pacific Northwest. (The puddles, mud, ferns, wetlands, ocean, etc.) I would grow creaky in my joints from the severe puffiness, and would lose the ability to comfortably operate an Xbox 360 controller. Now OBVIOUSLY, I can't risk that.

Therefore, the mystery remains a mystery, and the Limited Edition Four Cheese Garlic Pasta Bake Hot Pockets remain as lonely as an unkissed Blarney Stone, at least in my life. I'm sorry, Hot Pockets. I'm sorry I failed you.

My Favorite Mistake: Falling Asleep With This Gum In My Mouth

As a seeker of culinary enlightenment, where can I go from here? I've already reported on toothpaste, cats, mystery snacks found in my doctor's office... A pretty well-rounded base of culinary experiences too often underreported by food writers. But the wise know that enlightenment can't be aggressively pursued like some corporate takeover or fashion statement. One must cultivate an open heart, and an open mind, and wait patiently for enlightenment to present itself.

It is therefore in the pursuit of true passivity and freedom from ego that I can joyfully report upon my newest discovery.

I fell asleep with a chewed-up piece of gum in my mouth last night. Specifically, Wrigley's Extra Dessert Delights Sugar Free Gum, in the Root Beer Float flavor.

I also fell asleep fully dressed. I basically lugged myself home from work, ate dinner, and passed out.

And rightly so! I'm still paying off the sleep debt that I accrued last weekend, which some people know as Labor Day (or "American Labor Day" in Canada), a weekend also known as "PAX," or as "Heather's Birthday Weekend."

(If you're reading this, HI HEATHER!!!) ... (But if you're not Heather, and you don't know who she is--how did you find my blog, anyway?--isn't it so glamorous and mysterious to refer to some unknown birthday girl right in the middle of a review of chewing gum? Her birthday must be pretty important. Which it is, obviously, or else we wouldn't be having this conversation. No? Not impressed? Well, that's okay. I don't need to impress you, because I've already impressed myself.)

While I did my best to observe the conjunction of PAX and Heather's Birthday in a responsible fashion, staying up until 3am in speakeasies, restaurants, nightclubs, dives, and fancy hotel rooms for a long weekend meant that once the "Everyone from out-of-country is here!" adrenaline finally started to wear off, I developed a most magnificent ability to fall asleep in mere minutes--nay, seconds!--after deciding to. Hence last night's inelegant rush into my own pillow, despite being nearly a week away from my last cocktail.

But back to the subject at hand, which is the act of falling asleep with "Root Beer Float" flavored chewing gum in my mouth.

In the best of times, I can't get a full night's sleep anymore. Our new mattress is extremely firm, and gives me some absolutely royal upper back cramps. And my cats, once they see me wake up at 4am to stretch, assume that it may very well be time for breakfast. Or at least time to run over and sit on me, like little children with a pony. It's very cute, but inconvenient.

I didn't fully realize until last night just how aversive the taste of my natural morning breath is.

Inevitably, my first conscious act upon waking up in the middle of the night to stretch and roll over, was to chew the gum that I discovered was still in my mouth. I'd say to myself "Huh! There's a little flavor left! It tastes WAY better than the rest of my mouth!" I'd chew a little, go back to sleep, wake up, be pleasantly surprised by the gum, chew a little, go back to sleep, wash, rinse, repeat.

I also noticed, whenever rediscovering the gum, that my teeth felt gently cushioned by it. This was more of a relief than I'd expected it to be. Normally, I chew on the sides of my tongue a little bit when I sleep, and clench my jaws together, because my subconscious mind loves chewing. But this time? My tongue was way passé. Gum all the way! In fact, I might even invest in a bite guard, assuming that they come in root beer flavor.

Now, you might want to ask me why I could consider such a good decision as falling asleep with this gum in my mouth to be a "mistake." After all, the experience itself was obviously a total success.

Three factors must be kept in mind:

1. Choking Hazard. Only a fool or a misanthrope would seriously endorse sleeping with gum in the mouth. Because I am both a fool AND a misanthrope, the two qualities cancel each other out, and I'm left with a genuine desire to avoid choking people, by giving bad advice over the internet. Including myself, because I am also people.

2. My Teeth. Sure, the gum is sugar-free. And sure, I brush my teeth when I wake up. But can I guarantee that sleeping with gum in my mouth is safe for my teeth? That its bite guard properties are with the unknown risks? I simply don't have the dental background to make such a claim. I just don't know.

3. The Gum Itself. It's true that I not only love this gum, but I love all of the flavors in this Willy Wonka surrealist line of "Pretend it's food, fatso!" gums. It's already well-established that I love "pretend it's food" items, pretty much across the board.

And the first flavor when mawing down on this stuff is a pretty root-beery effort. I'm impressed by what the Wrigley's chemists were able to accomplish. However, as I continue to chew, the next flavor I experience is just a hint of artificial banana. It's still well-rendered and sweet enough that I'm into it, but I can't consider the gum to be an exclusively root beer float product.

In addition, when I AM awake, the flavor doesn't last as long, and the gum becomes as tough as a wad of celery strings after a couple of hours. It simply wouldn't fly as a bubble gum, which would need to retain its elastic properties and flavor much longer.

Essentially, if I were assigning the Wrigley's chemists a grade, like it was a final project in an art class, this is how I would break it down:

A+++ for creativity
B for initial flavor
C for chewiness and flavor retention, long-term

Still, it was an experience worthy of documentation.

Hard-Hitting Journalism: When Cats Steal My Food

That's right! It is tiiiiiiiime to set the record straight.

No more puff pieces about puff pastry, no more ice-cweamy-weamy wishy-washy descriptions of what I will eat. No! Today, I must needs address a more pressing, serious issue.

WHEN CATS STEAL MY FOOD

Now, if you're reading this, chances are that you already know both of my cats' first names (hi Mom!), but for the sake of quality journalism, I'm going to lay it out for you. Their names are Leonard and Gregor.


Now Greg, he's a manx, which means that while he and Leonard have the same mother, Greg's biological father was a rabbit. But when he's stealing food, he's the much more stereotypical cat. (Perhaps to compensate?) He will lick the butter off of bread, he will lick the ice cream off of cobbler, he will even pull the old classic of sticking his little nose in your milk glass and sticking his little tongue in the milk, like he grew up watching cartoons of what cats are "supposed" to act like.

Lenny, on the other hand, despite being the more traditional-looking cat, has blown the "stealing my food" stereotypes out of the water. Ka-Bam!

Leonard once stole my broccoli, and wolfed it down before I could retrieve it. He loves carbohydrates so much that he will actually chase popcorn if you throw it, and will yum it down.

And on more than one occasion, I've seen him take a bite out of the side of an unbuttered, crusty baguette, like a rat would.

In contrast, Gregory will not EVEN put any of these foods in his mouth.

And there you have it.

Cats: Just like people, or just like cats? Only time will tell.

This Doesn't Suck! HealthyChoice Greek Frozen Yogurt

I am very pleasantly surprised to report that the HealthyChoice Greek Frozen Yogurt (boasting 100 calories per serving) actually doesn't suck at all. At least, not that I can tell, right now. It is the best pseudo-ice-cream that I've had in a while. (Although Trader Joe's coconut milk ice creams also rule.)

I had guessed, after looking at the label, that it had a 50/50 chance of tasting like lip gloss. After all, the larger the corporation behind the brand, the more suspicious I feel, especially about foods that are directly targeting those among us who struggle to juggle being both vain AND sweet toothed.

Still, if I'm going to be honest, I have to admit that I'm still willing to eat a desert that tastes like lip gloss. So I bought a box, because I was curious.

Now, this opinion COULD be the result of an indiscriminate culinary palate, but I actually really like this stuff. I will buy more.

It's kind of like cheesecake, kind of like whipped gelatin... It has a weird, foamy quality that--if I'm being charitable--makes me want to blame molecular gastronomy. The flavor is similar to greek yogurt, but it lacks the sour bite. The temperature resembles ice cream, but what I'm eating now doesn't feel as cold in my mouth. It definitely still feels like junk food (it's silky in an unnatural way), but it really suits me right now. I will definitely buy more.