There it is, back from frying over the fires of Hell. A monster which will freeze your blood and harrow your very soul, or at the very least send you to the emergency room with your left arm feeling numb. A sandwich like this should probably come with a coupon for a free angioplasty.
The Maitre d’, needless to say, was somewhat skeptical and concerned for his health. In his words, “This is basically the thing that killed Elvis. It should really be more fearsome than it is.”
That said, it was scary enough that he refused to eat the entire sandwich. After some negotiating and several rounds of “nuclear bomb-cockroach-meth lab” (our replacement for the traditional “paper-rock-scissors”), including indulging the Maitre d’ in his “best 23 out of 45” rule, we finally negotiated a compromise. He would eat half of the infernal sandwich if I then ate the other half.
Once the negotiations were settled, it was time for the moment of truth: would Dylan eat this monstrosity? If you don’t know the answer by now, you should. Here’s a hint: it isn’t “no”.
There he is, caught in the act. Seconds later, he devoured the cameraman for dessert.
From the sound of such a thing, you would expect a fried Nutella and banana sandwich to immediately induce a massive orgasm the likes of which the Maitre d’ hasn’t seen since that time Kiera Knightley seduced him in Acapulco. Sadly, this was not to be the case.
In the words of the Maitre d’ himself: “I basically liked it, but for as horrible for you as it is supposed to be, it wasn’t all that impressive. Seriously. More sweetness, more greasy butter flavor, more… something. If I’m going to kill myself slowly it better taste crazy good while I’m doing it.”
Then came my turn. Would the Chef blanch at something that Goat did with ease? Well, come on, it’s just Nutella and bananas. On the whole, I’d have to agree with the Maitre d’s assessment. It’s good, but it’s not the kind of once-in-a-lifetime moment of sublime bliss that by all rights it should be. With that much fat in it, this death sandwich should probably taste more impressive. I say that next time, we should batter-dip the Nutella sandwich and deep-fry the sucker.
Well, there it is. The Maitre d’ did comment that we really should have set the bar a little higher for the first article in this series, but I felt it was important to start out slow, because next time, we’re going to try something truly horrifying that will freeze the marrow in your bones and shoot your blood pressure off the charts: Marmite!
The Chef was born 856 years ago on a small planet orbiting a star in the Argolis cluster. It was prophesied that the arrival of a child with a birthmark shaped like a tentacle would herald the planet's destruction. When the future Chef was born with just such a birthmark, panic ensued (this would not be the last time the Chef inspired such emotion). The child, tentacle and all, was loaded into a rocket-powered garbage scow and launched into space. Unfortunately, the rocket's exhaust ignited one of the spectators' flatulence, resulting in a massive explosion that detonated the planet's core, destroying the world and killing everyone on it.
When the would-be Chef awoke from his torpor, he looked around at the new world he found himself on. His first words were, “Hey, this place sucks." Disguising himself as one of the planet's dominant species of semi-domesticated ape, the being who would become known as the Chef wandered the Earth until he ended up in its most disreputable slum - Paris, France.
Taking a job as a can-can dancer, the young Chef made a living that way until one day one of the cooks at a local bistro fell ill with food poisoning (oh, bitter irony). In a desperate move, the bistro's owner rushed into one of the local dance halls, searching for a replacement. He grabbed the ugliest can-can dancer he could find, and found himself instead with an enterprising (if strange) young man who now decided, based on this random encounter, to only answer to the name “Chef".
His success as a French chef was immediate (but considering that this is a country where frogs and snails are considered delicacies, this may or may not be a significant achievement). Not only was the Chef's food delicious, it also kept down the local homeless population. He rose to the heights of stardom in French cuisine, and started a holy war against the United Kingdom to end the reign of terror British food had inflicted on its citizens.
When the Crimean War broke out around France, the Chef assisted Nikola Tesla and Galileo in perfecting the scanning electron microscope, which was crucial in driving back the oncoming Communist hordes. It would later be said that without the Chef, the war would have been lost. He was personally awarded a Purple Heart by the King of France.
After that, the Chef traveled to America, home of such dubious culinary delights as McDonald's Quarter Pounder With Cheese. He immediately adopted the Third World nation as his new home, seeing it as his job to protect and enlighten it. When the Vietnam War began, he immediately volunteered and served in the Army of the Potomac under Robert E. Lee and General Patton. During the war, the Chef killed dozens of Nazis, most of them with his bare hands.
Marching home from war across the floor of the Atlantic Ocean, stark-naked and freezing, the Chef wound up on the shores of Mexico. He spent several years there, drinking tequila with Pancho Villa and James Dean. He put his culinary skills to the test when he invented the 5,000-calorie Breakfast Chili Burrito With Orange Sauce (which is today still a favorite in some parts of Sonora).
Eventually, the Chef returned to his adopted home of America, where he met a slimy, well-coiffed weasel who was starting up a new kind of buffet - one dedicated to providing the highest-quality unmentionable appetizers to the online community. The Chef dedicated himself to spreading the word of his famous Lard Sandwich (two large patties of fried lard, in between two slices of toasted buttered lard, with bacon and cheese), as well as occasionally writing about his opinions on less-important topics than food.
Every word of this is true, if only in the sense that every word of this exists in the English language.
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