I’d like to start off my writings here on a humorous note.  Don’t worry, proper reviews are just over the next ridge, but maybe we get to know each other first?  Take a seat.  How are the kids?  Is little Jayden still in lacrosse?  How nice.

I wrote this a while back when everyone and their adorably-naive grandmothers were writing articles about Olive Garden for laughs.  I actually really like to write comedy, so I did it, and people seemed to like it.  Enjoy it, won’t you?  Thank you.

- your pal, Mitchell Wilburn

View original article on my own website

————————————————————————————————————————————–

In retrospect of my last birthday fun-times, I realized the potential for an interesting article comparing the two dinners and dining establishments I made merry.  So what I thought I’d do is parse out my thoughts, pull an article together, people read it and laugh, I become rich and famous overnight, retire in the Bahamas, you know, that old chestnut.  So, that private nude beach is waiting – let’s get cracking.

We cannot think clearly about things until we call them what they are. – George Orwell

NOT made in America

◄ Back

Next ►

Picture 1 of 1

Let’s talk about Kobe and “Kobe” beef for a minute, shall we?

A FB friend (let’s call him Don) writes:

So….I was at Le Cirque the other night where they were charging an extra $140 for a wagyu ribeye which in the description was noted as “kobe” (yes, the quotes were included in the description). The waiter says this is real kobe beef. I questioned that since it is my understanding that real kobe never leaves Japan. I’m thinking I’m wrong or this waiter just thought I was some dumbass hick. Any thoughts?

Why yes, Don, I do have some thoughts and here they are:

(more…)

Never eat anything that’s supposed to be something else. – ELV

It was the best of times (exemplified by Vincenzo Scarmiglia’s potato-crusted halibut with squash blossom at Sirio):

◄ Back

Next ►

Picture 1 of 1

Perfect surf and turf

…it was the worst of times (more…)

As durable (and comfortable) as chain mail

◄ Back

Next ►

Picture 1 of 1

Chilewich placemats are the bane of ELV’s existence.

(more…)

The trouble with Las Vegas is, people (tourists and conventioneers mostly) are clamoring for this, basically raw, green bean salad:

◄ Back

Next ►

Picture 1 of 1

(more…)

[Show as slideshow]

When ELV lies around his humble abode thinking of things he loathes, many things come to mind, including:

- cupcakes,

- country music,

- people who are intolerant of other cultures,

- the Dutch,

(more…)

Some families only do fish on Fridays.

Others enjoy meatless Mondays.

But around the ELV household, all-Asian Sundays reign supreme.

There’s never been any exact decision to do this, it just seems it’s worked out that way so many Sundays in a row that we now take eating Asian for granted on the last day of the week.

Take yesterday, for example. We just happened to be cruising down West Flamingo when the sign in front of the Palms Hotel said “Cathay House,” beckoning us like a juicy dumpling waiting to be slurped and savored.

[Show as slideshow]

(more…)

At La Grenouille in New York City:

◄ Back

Next ►

Picture 1 of 1

…the Dover sole — filleted into four, plump slabs of divine seafood, garnished with a dab of mustard sauce on the side — is $48.

(more…)

Memo to East Fremont Street: The following are three examples of the type of food and drink that ought to (might? maybe? someday?) be in our humble burg instead of the tourist traps and various other shite we are saddled with.

Let’s start with a mega-cool pub, The Hopping Pig in San Diego:

[Show as slideshow]

(more…)

ELV note: We used to love golf. Grew up on the game. Played all the time in the eighties and nineties. Once sported a solid 9-10 handicap. Once shot an 84 at Pebble Beach (an honest 84), where we played the four toughest holes on the course (8-9-10-11) in one over par. But something has happened to the world’s greatest game over the past ten years and we hardly touch our sticks anymore. And with the exception of the four majors (and the Ryder Cup), we couldn’t care less about the game. This guy’s hyperbolic, profane, prolific prose explains why….sort of.

PS: Why is ELV posting an anti-golf rant on his restaurant website? Because he’s ELV that’s why! Where the unexpected can always be expected!

THE HATERS GUIDE TO GOLF

By Seymour Dubsdread

Eldrick “Tiger” Woods

Why don’t you take some of your money and buy yourself a personality?

The biggest jerk in sports, by the length of a three-shot par 5. Mike Lupica once wrote: “Most professional jocks are assholes pretending to be nice guys.” Woods doesn’t even pretend. But you’ll never hear this from the flacks and whores in the golf media — who are so far up Woods’ ass they couldn’t see daylight from the 7^th tee at Pebble Beach at high noon. Woods is such a sullen, surly dick, he could make Ben Hogan look like Chi Chi Rodriguez. He doesn’t tip (just ask anyone in Vegas), because he “doesn’t carry cash.” Really Eldrick? Really? Methinks a few dozen call girls would testify otherwise. (more…)