Talent

Atlanta

Chow Down Atlanta

Once, Chloe Morris slathered her naked body with foie gras and grits and offered herself to the other most famous person in Atlanta (besides her, of course), Andre 3000. Ms. Morris’ epic and epicurean sex appeal was enough to persuade the normally vehement vegetarian, Andre, into a wrestling/ sploshing match briefly preceded by wonderful moments of foreplay consisting of local Atlanta strip trivia.

Datealicious Atlanta

If you see a pretty girl on an Atlanta corner wearing a cocktail dress and five-inch fuck-me-pumps with a sign that says, “Will date for dinner. Maybe I’ll make mild, strained conversation for Happy Hour”, you can be confident that you’ve met Lindsay Howe. If “Pretty Woman” was based in Atlanta, Ms. Howe would be Richard Gere and you would be her Julia Roberts, dressed in red velvet, eating strawberries and drinking champagne. Maybe she would even take you for a ride…at the horse track.

First-Bite

If you’ve ever watched Atlanta-based, Princess Peach a.k.a. Jessica Carter in a lab coat, pouring steaming hot liquids into big, wide tubes, you would be just as much a willing participant in her magic-mushroom-molecular-gastronomy hunt as her boyfriend, Super Mario a.k.a. Just Mario is. Dude would shoot Tabasco fireballs out of his mouth to make a crème brule out of some monsters; this culinary sacrifice is mostly because Ms. Peach knows how to raise his flag at the end of every level.

The Quick and Dirty Dirty

Ask most men what their biggest fantasy is and they will tell you that it’s two girls at once (and if they deny this they are liars… which makes him infinitely more attractive). Going down the list of men’s wants you also see “actually eats”, “drinks like a bro”, “sweet Southern belle”, “hedonist”, “can do it quick and dirty”, “as humble as a 5 but is really an 11”. Lauren and Lindsay are all that, plus they come in that coveted pair! They are like donuts, pizza slices, glasses of wine, cats; you told yourself you should only have one, but you always end up having two. The men of Atlanta fall at their feet and shower them with matching cocktails, matching diamonds, and matching amounts of retweets on their Twitter. It’s not enough that they are sensualist foodies that come in a pair. Oh no, they had to go and be foxy too.

Chicago

Chi BBQ King

Titus invented BBQ. No. Really. He found a time machine, went back in time, taught the first ever Homo Erectus how to carve a stake out of a wood stick. After he taught man how to make fire, he taught him the difference between a dry rub and wet bbq sauce. Working out the flavor combinations with brontosauruses and mastadons was no small feat but easily accomplished with Mr. Ruscitti’s distinguished palate. Now, Mr. Ruscitti brings his ancient art to the modern day members of Chicago. A few apemen might have slipped through the space-time continuum cracks when he was sneaking in dinosaur meat, but we don’t talk about that.

Real Food Rehab

You know that exhilarated feeling you get when you go to the top of Chicago’s Sears Tower and look down? That adrenaline rush combined with the overwhelming instinct that you rule this city and everyone below you is one of your minions? Well, that’s how Culinary Queen, Ms. Dana Joy feels as she presides over and educates her vast dominion of provincial peasants waiting to be plucked by her prolific hands out of the dirt like black truffles and thrown joyously into the most climacteric bon-vivant dishes; the sort of stuff only fit for royalty.

The Chicago Glutton

Baby Roy was an (epi)curious tyke. His bottles were full of Straus Rich Cream and the nipples were dunked in organic local honey. His first real meal was a baby jar of duck and lavender pate and fed to him with a plantanium spoon. While other toddlers were asking for pacifiers soaked in hot water, Baby Roy wanted cigars and bourbon. It’s safe to say that not much has changed.

Houston

Teethpicks

At the risk of being ostracized from Texas society forever, Andrea Afra would spend the time during the family Thanksgiving football match not chasing the pigskin, but cracking some chitlins in a deep vat of pork fat, perfecting her pecan pie recipe, and opening up her gourmet Armadillo BBQ stand. Don’t get us wrong. Ms. Afra is not all food and no play. She is often seen doing naked keg stands with hot Texas A&M students or bungee jumping from the top of the Reliant Astrodome during a Houston Rockets game.

Las Vegas

The Hungry Wanderers

While most cultural geniuses are inspired by other beautiful works of art, Amanda and Justin Berg came to terms with the extent of their debaucherous hedonism after watching the food scene from ‘9 and ½ Weeks’. Naked and sitting in front of their refrigerator door, they reenacted the scene. So deep was their enjoyment that they decided to share their culinary kink-a-tude with the rest of the world in the hopes that one day, couples around the world, will be peeling their partner’s rapturous naked limbs off of sticky linoleum floors.

Vegas Musings

One time Krisiti and Picasso were sitting and having a meal. It was basic Mediterranean fare, but Krisiti was oddly dunking her olives into her wine and splashing the pristine white tablecloth with shades of muted purple and blue. Picasso was inspired by Krisiti’s insouciance over the state of purity of the dinner table and her abstract understanding of the art of consumption. After the meal, while Krisiti was standing on her head in order to digest her food properly, Picasso had a revelation into the meaning of shape and color; he promptly ran to his artist studio and began his first painting of his “Blue Period”.

Los Angeles

LA & OC Foodie

During our sham attempt at growing up, one thing we always heard from the naughty boys in the schoolyard was, “Vegetarians Taste Better.” H.C. is a prime example of that. Each freckle tastes like a pomegranate seed, his hair tastes like long silken rhubarb spirals, and his skin is reminiscent of English heavy cream atop strawberry angel food cake. His love of food has given his body a rich and complex flavor that, paired with the Southern Californian sun, has made him into a fertile pungent garden of earthly aromas and tastes. Vegetarians do indeed taste better.

The Happy Hour Tour

Dear Liver, Remember when we met the “Happy Hour Tour” girls? We were getting along fine, Liver, and then one day, after hitting up 7 consecutive happy hours with Jessica and Jennie, we sort of stopped getting along. There was that bar where Jessica made us get up and dance on the counters like we were in Coyote Ugly. That was fine but Jennie plied you with a couple of extremely discounted shots and then we fell off. Being the consummate “wet nurses” they are, Jennie and Jessica dragged us to another bar, and made us feel better with cheap calamari and $2 mixed drinks. You quivered a little, Liver, but I made you hold on tight. I said, “Hey Liver, look at J and J! There put the hot in hot mess but minus the mess.” But now, Liver, we are sitting on this bathroom floor and I’m afraid to tell you this, but maybe we are the ones being messes. Love, Me.

Vixen's LA Happy Hours

Heaven is missing an angel and that angel is Vixen. Long ago, when the world was still young, and “happy hour” still meant we were protozoa eating tiny discounted nuclei in the ocean, Vixen floated down on a cloud of pretzels and beer foam. As the patron angel of Happy Hours, cocktail dresses, pirates, and hot bartenders (she watches over the ugly ones too, just not as carefully), Vixen has blessed humanity with the ability to spend basically no money on our functioning alcoholism, instilled the concept of the “little black dress” in the creative minds of Parisian designers, told God to cast Johnny Depp in Pirates of the Caribbean and made it so that even if we didn’t have a chance with that hot lawyer across the way, we at least have a hot bartender to kill time with.

New York

Spork or Foon

In order to prepare herself for life as a gourmand New Yorker, Teanna Dimicco shipped herself off to a school for Chinese contortionists children. Once she learned how to both simultaneously use her body as a table, a plate rack, and a Lazy Susan, she moved back to New York with the idea to hold grandiose dinner parties in her closet. Any New Yorker can learn to cook in a their tiny kitchen, but because Ms. Dimicco always likes a challenge she took it one step furthur. Now her boyfriend Jack is the happiest man in the world. Not only does he get perfectly prepared meals made from his skilled, acrobatic, and surprisingly compact girlfriend, he also gets a to utilize her flexibility in other areas.

Philly

Philly Food & Beer

Our species consumes thirty-six billion gallons of beer a year, and we are pretty sure that Mike Ingrassia has something to do with that, even if that means he has to drink a couple billion gallons by himself! While you may believe this is impossible, Mr. Ingrassia is actually a little Grecian god. His father, Dionysus (God of Wine) and his mother Demeter (Goddess of Crops/Wheat) had a little hush-hush fling once and out of the union came their son, the God of Beer. Mr. Ingrassia’s godlike stature was not mentioned in any mythological stories because everytime Homer or Aesop or whomever came to his house, they would wake up the next morning naked, in a Greek bathouse, with no recollection of what happened before. They just knew it was fun.

Portland

Restaurant Roulette

A pack of wild wolves arrived at the doorstep of Jackie Morrow’s parents with a snarl and note written in sheep’s blood, “Eat what is in this basket and you shall have a baby girl with the sweet smile so bright in rivals the light of the sun but with an appetite and a heart so voracious that, like her wolf godmothers, she will want to devour anything and everything in sight.” Ms. Morrow’s parents took a rather innocent looking apple of the bag but the refused to eat it. For weeks, the apple sat by the door, staying as fresh and pristine as the day it was delivered. One fateful day, Ms. Morrow’s mom absentmindedly took a bite, instantly became pregnant and went into labor three hours late. Jackie Morrow was born: a beautiful bright shining beacon of unmitigated appetite.

The Portland Pickle

We came upon a tiny cottage made out of red brick and dark wood, surrounded by a dilapidated white fence. The fence was surrounded by lavender and white snap-dragons. Or that’s what we thought. Actually, the house of a creation of Louisa Neumann’s: the brick was really gingerbread laced with currants, the dark wood was slabs of cacao, the white fence was made of a fragile meringue (hence the dilapidation), the flowers were made out of spun sugar. Everyone you could see evidence of Louisa’s training, creative mind, and eye for beauty. She invited us into the kitchen, which had a pot bubbling, and a giant wood fire stove. As we chatted about some of her accomplishments we noticed her grabbing our fingers. “All those 3am Del Taco stops are really fattening you up,” she said happily. All of a sudden we recalled a fairy tale that started this way….

San Diego

Dine & Devour

We are walking at sunset on the beach in San Diego, right on the border of Mexico. All we have to our name is a few shots of tequila in our system, enough ceviche to make the animals at Sea World wail in mourning, and some skimpy black bikinis. The light of the sunset makes a mirage like quality on the water; suddenly, we see a Saloon style bar floating on the water. We swim out and there Rebecca Louise greets us. She slides a couple more shots to us across this magical bar and says, “I was the one who put the worm in the tequila.” We pause and laugh thinking she is joking. “No”, she says, “I put the worm in there for the sake of all poor foodies like me. Once you consume the worm you end up in some dreamlike tropical paradise. I did that for all the foodies in the world who cannot travel to eat their hearts desire.” We laughed again. We were drunk but not that drunk. So we kept on floating in that magical bar across the ocean to an Island with a volcano made of mole sauce.

Fresh Cracked Pepper

A beautiful gold embroidered tapestry was rolled out onto the table and all the treasures of Jennifer Ward’s travels were uncovered: there was a kind of saffron mixed with Indonesian butterfly wings, an aphrodisiac tonic made with different sort of young and nubile wood from Nepal, and monkey butter from India. When I asked her what “monkey butter” consisted of, Ms. Ward gave me a sparkling look, pulled out her giant knife made from crocodile teeth from the Australian outback, dipped it’s tip into the light fatty brown concotion and put it to her red lips. “It doesn’t matter to me”, she smiled, “I think it’s delicious.” From that momement on I knew; whatever bizarre thing I could imagine, it was probably much, much worse.

Kat's 9 Lives

We waited in nervous anticipation to see what Kat meant when she said she was going to “strip a fingerling potato”. We’ve seen some kinky stuff in our day but these food fetishists really topped our knowledge of “sensual exploration”. Kat threw an apron over what little clothing she had on, took out a peeler and slowly peeled a tiny fingerling in front of us. The fingerling was so naked and vulnerable, but we want more. She took out some salt and rubbed down a steak, slapping it to tenderize it, and threw it onto a steaming hot grill, and we watched as the juices fell into the charcoal. She poured us a beer and the brew came to a foamy head. After all this, we were famished and completely titillated. “Do you want to see my website?” she said. After that, we knew we were completely done for.

The 5th Deadly Sin

If you thought the Iron Man Triathlon was hard normally, imagine doing it like Roger Tsen does. During the swim portion, he is balancing a bowl of fresh pasta on his back, slowly sucking the noodles. During the biking portion, he is speeding past Lance Armstrong with a CamelBak full of Guinness and specially made energy bars made out of steak and chips. During the running portion, he gleefully throws fried chicken drumsticks to all his admiring spectators. And of course, there is no question; he always comes in first.

San Francisco

Every Bar in San Francisco

Sitting at a long dark bar in North Beach, sipping Fernet-Branca with a glass of gingerbeer, listening to the experimental jazz notes of pots and pans clinking in the kitchen, the crescendo of the chef’s voice as it deftly berates his pastry assistant; these moments make us understand the musical and masticatory world of San Francisco that Alpha Heather lives in. One weekend we visited her and she took us a tour of all the bars in her neighborhood. We walked throughout the city, around the wharf, through the alleys, and what we discovered was a beat and a rythym that only San Francisco can accomplish. We were feeling like graceful contemporary dancers until our 5th or 6th cocktail and then we may or may not have rolled all the way down Lombard, only to be rescued after Alpha Heather hijacked a trolley and kept us from rolling all the way into the ocean. May or may not. We will never tell.

No Salad as a Meal

When Haas brings his camera into a San Francisco restaurant, the room goes hush and tendrils of lettuce begin to curl under. An undisputed fact amongst chefs and patrons is that Haas’ camera actually enhances the flavor of any food it captures. If he takes a picture of a plate of nachos, it turns into chipotle spiced chilaquiles. If he takes a picture of a cup of chocolate Jello pudding, it becomes a molten chocolate cake. If he takes a picture of a salad, it becomes a steak. There is no end to the amount of things documented that Haas’ camera has turned from something devastating to something delicious. There is a rumor that Willy Wonka designed Haas’ camera.

Washington DC

DC Gluttony

When Khristina was born, she was born with a rare, terminal ability: the ability to taste heaven in food. While her taste buds were normal, her papillae were replaced with angel’s tears and the prayers of 1st day culinary students hoping that their fingers and epidermis stay in tact from knives and fire. While the rest of us are just eating, Ms. Cagayat is splayed across the table in ecstatic bliss from the divine deliciousness of every bite. If something is gross, fire appears in her eyes and she spins around dramatically and casts the infernal bite into the fiery pits of foodie hell.

DC Socialite

We were all sitting in a large oval room resplendent with Revolutionary historical paraphenalia while Paul was sitting across from us, his feet resting gently upon a globe of the world. “This is where I taught Monica Lewinski how to sedude President Clinton with food. Of course, everyone has their ideas about what those stains on her dress were, but I know the truth. They were eating the vanilla-bean tapioca pudding topped with carmelized pomegranate sauce that I taught her to make. Pudding can often look like…” The converstation drifted off and Paul regailed us with more D.C. food stories, including one that involved 13 different country ambassadors and tropical body shots.

Ellen Fork

A young woman with a libidinous appetite, Ellen runs what her patrons jokingly refer to as a “food brothel”; hedonistic youth come to her to nurture their sensory appetites, eventually the synesthesia kicks in and through the art of eating food, they subsequently learn the art of blissful, transcending pleasure. Little is known about Ellen’s methods but it is rumored that she uses a type of Voodoo culinary magic, as well as the ecstatic tears of Julia Child from the days when Julie was first learning how to cook in Paris. Biography states that Ms. Child would have lunch and an afternoon rendezvous with her husband every day. We speculate, through the help of the educational work of Ellen, that Ms. Child actually contained a chemical in her body that was created by an excess of Parisian food that when this chemical is consumed it makes one fall in love as if it’s 1952 and April in Paris.

Unpaid Gourmet

We are often asked what the sign of a true gourmand is and in response we look up from our giant plates of Happy Hour bruschetta and point our olive-oil drenched fingers to McAllister Jimbo. McAllister has won 37 James Beer (no, not James Beard) Awards just on her ability to create a gourmet restaurant worthy dish out of ramen and left over packets of hot sauce from Taco Bell. A little known secret about McAllister is that while she may be world renowned for her budget gourmet, it is her ability to make hats out of beer cans that she is most proud of.

Uncouth Media

Josie

Princess Lea