What Am I: Food I

My precious, little dreg of society. For some time now you've been going to various restaurants (with napkins made of natural fibers, of course) and ordering food you're barely able to pronounce. Since my goal is to avoid embarrassment for the both of us, I want to prepare you for situations that don't involve menus.

The time will soon come when you're invited to a posh dinner party and your hostess may present you with some funny looking edibles. Fret not, we'll go over the basics and you'll be prepared for anything a true gourmand will send your way.


Here's a quick quiz. You know Mr. Mannerz can't resist a quiz—but this time, I'll give you the answer. Is the above dish:


a. Coq au vin

b. Fettucine alfredo

c. Sundubu jjigae

d. Bouillabaisse


The answer is d: bouillabaisse. The traditional Provençal fish stew is something your hostess whips up to convince herself and her guests that she's the reincarnated Julia Child. The dish is comprised of ingredients that have never touched your lips: fennel, saffron, pain de campagne, sea urchins, lotte; etc. The closest you've come to bouillabaisse so far is a fishstick.

Act Like You've Got Sense III

Please don't assume that all of your Latino friends use Goya Adobo. That's akin to assuming that all of your African-American friends can't resist the thrill of hot sauce or that all of your Asian-American friends couldn't live without the tang of soy sauce or the kick of chutney. You've been doing so well. Don't backslide now.

It's OK to Eat That? New Foods for You II

The inaugural installment of New Foods for You brought about a bit of backlash from my inner circle. The anti-Foie Gras establishment could not believe I would encourage the consumption of duck or goose liver. Number 1) My palate is refined and I can't go around eating Happy Meals and Taco Bell the way you used to after a long day (and night, and day again) of freebasing. Number 2) Often, these self-righteous naysayers are simply jumping on the most recent bandwagon that happened to be passing by their Upper East Side co-op. The poor, defenseless ducks and geese happen to be their current cause célèbre. And finally, number 3) I'll eat whatever the hell I please. On to the food!

Who needs fish sticks when there is pan seared Chilean sea bass? That's bass as in fish, not the bass you equipped your hooptie with before it was repossessed by the fine folks at the used car lot. This is bass as in CLASS—something you'll have a bit of once you've completed Mr. Mannerz finishing school. Now, truth be told, this fellow isn't the sharpest looking guy in the sea. But when he's cooked up, there's no stopping him.

Some virgin olive oil, salt and pepper, and stainless steel All-Clad is all this guy really needs to pretty up. So when the waiter presents this to you, don't make the same face when you saw the foie gras for the first time. Act like you know.

Wait wait wait. Stop the presses. As I was about to publish this post, I just learned from my assistant that there's a great deal of controversy surrounding the Chilean sea bass and whether or not it's on the endangered species list. Well, as far as I'm concerned, people with class and grace are on the endangered species list, so don't permit this to concern you. I'll look into this matter more thoroughly. As for now, place your napkin on your lap, not down your shirt. And please, I beg you friend, please wipe the corners of your mouth. That full mouth swipe is beyond déclassé. It's très trashay.

It's Okay to Eat That? New Foods to You I

After you've made the rounds at the parties, and you've developed friendships with people unlike yourself, you'll be presented with cuisine you're not accustomed to. You see, not everyone can subsist on a strict diet of ding dongs, twinkies, and Combos like you did during your meth period.

There's an entire, civilized world of culinary arts out there. When your new, cultured boyfriend takes you out to a restaurant with real table cloths and chairs with backs, you may come across some peculiar looking dishes. The last thing you want to do is furrow your brows, point to the menu and ask him what es-kar-gotts are. Once again, Mr. Mannerz is here to hold your hand through the wonderful world of New Foods For You. But first, let's get something important out of the way.

There is a such a thing as a gastronomic hierarchy. Please see below:


Gastronome—One who is well-versed in the relationship between culture, fine food and drink

Gourmet—A connoisseur of fine food and drink

Friand—Epicure; one who is concerned with fine food and drink

Gourmand—One who enjoys eating

Goulu—Glutton; a human garbage disposal

Goinfre—Greedy-guts; a lowdown, filthy human with food stains all over his/her shirt


Right now you're a greedy-guts; but I'd be happy if you even made it to gourmand. That's our goal here. Let's start with the first dish. This is something you may get at an establishment with at least one Michelin star. Yes, the tire people. They produce an annual series of guide books feauturing the crème de la crème in restaurants and hotels.

A Michelin star is no laughing matter. Several years ago Bernard Loiseau, a chef who had been awarded 3 stars (the highest honor) for his restaurant La Côte d'Or, committed suicide. It's widely speculated that he feared losing one of his stars.

On to more uplifting news. Finally, the food.


Foie gras (French for "fat liver") is a dish made from the liver of a goose or duck that was deliberately fattened. There has been some controversy as of late due to the force-feeding factor that creates the right amount of fatness. If you're the indulgent type like myself, you just sweep that stuff under the rug—you know, the same place you're still harboring those last pieces of crack rock.

A standard foie gras dish has basic ingredients: duck or goose, salt, pepper, canola oil, and balsamic vinegar. Nothing outrageous. So when the waiter places this palte in front of you, act like you've been dining on this for years in the formal dining room of your double wide.