Monday, July 6, 2009

Tummy Yucko

The uproar unign(/ad)orable, the disquiet palpable, the hush audible, the calls for a signal implorable, the consternation etched in adamantine lines across the blogosphere's collective visage and upper BLOCHELONS (blogopshere + echelon o course!) of food criticizing sites issuing a community prayer (don't believe us? check smitten... FIPSYdoodle... proof positive!) so that DDB goes back online with its fine, crystalline and making-you-supine prose toes, you schmoes!1 And back we is with a vengeance!

Look at this poor sucka back on the block. Let us preface dough (hehehehe... he): DDB is not about running down the little guy - not even you chickenunderwear or you in your valiant fight against the FIPS mongrels, Burk C - or discouraging cross-cultural-cuisine forays, in fact we wants to celebrate it, party with it, put a "I DDB" shirt ($14.95 + S/H, kids! LOL(!!!)) on it and send it on its merry way as a proud mom looking from her immaculate entryway though the breeze-sustained open door at her reformed child who's now embraced a life of civility and respect for his fellow man whereas once there was such a concentration of bile running so densely in his putrescent viens dat... whoops! where wuz i? oh yes, da little rascals of the rest'o'rant world. suffice (suf'rice? saffron'rice?) it to say, we lovs em.

BUT. There is a line. And dis place done crossed it, and we woodn't be the marsh(mellow)als of da Park Slope food criticalizing world, if we didn't respond. Our fans - YOU - expect nothing less.

First of all, the name alone demands that we remove da glove (not GP) - da signature of journalistic superbness - and slap dis place cross the face! Yummy Taco? No No No. The same glove that done had to slap an old lady silly (you know who I'm talking to, Pizza Pus) now gots to do its bizniz again. Do dey really think that the razor-sharp (never flat!) mines of DDB are susceptible to such bleytint and cheap suggestion? We wrote DA BOOK ON SUGGESTION AND NUANCE, kids, don't try to play us at our owns game.

DDB could understand if the place was called Tummy NoNo; Crummy Barf-o; Yummy? Hell no!; Gin Rummy and Bingo Was His Name, Oh! (LOL dat don't make no cents); Mummy Dead Toes; Gummy Bears Woulda Been a Better Meal, Oh!, OH God! This Food is So Awful... O(i)!; Dummy For Eating Here-o; cause DEN da message dune sink in. and sink in HARD. But let's knock this baby out the park (not literally.. 'less that baby be wearing a Playa Yummy Taco shirt, then BOOM!) chronometrically.

We do dis '''cause when we ~first~ entered, as I said 'fo, eyes're still washed in the sweet elixirs of little-guy-aphilia and we appreciated, if predicted, the warm regards of the YTmates upon entering. After all, the place was hardly a-bustle with a-ctivity and lord(ie lordie) knows what a glowing review handed down (beglovedly and lovingly!) from *DDB* can do for a place. Just look at Al Di La(lala)... that's right. DDB. Donald Trump? DDB. But somethin' was amiss and the sleuths noses were a burnin' wit' tha cent of fowl play (gets it? fowl / foul? oh US): i mean, warm regards transmorphgrified into resigned bemusement; a desire-to-please to a wipe-their-sleeve, to a getting-up-with-a-heave!!! Can you imagine DAT, gentle/eel reader?!, and not that DDB expects pimp and circumference when we'z enter, the proverbial and literal beagles of fanfare, rose petals lampooning the ground 'fo' ('?) the feet (though that WOULD be nice... NB: Benjifips => Jeevesyfips?!, since you clearly ain't doing much write / writing now!) but a little sumthin(-sumthin) WOOD be a pro(fessional) pos(eurs). Needles(s) to say, dis might've ruffled the royal feathers a bit, but anywhom... journalistic dis(sin' fools!)passion intact (fer na!...~1)

Howevs, while DDB's sense of purpose, its popular-demand driven and sustained mission unassailable by the stings and barrels of extrageous fortune (cookies), its delicate aesthetics of decorum and visuals can suffer no such in/af-fliction. So it had to indulge its own artistic side (prints can be ordered via deliciousdishbrooklyn@gmail.com!) to counteract the savage plainness and monotonous juxtapositions (belated PSAT points for DDB, Bored of Ed?!) of the (place) setting. And which is bigger the bowl of bamboo or the box of straws?! View at yer own risk, dear fan...







Does DDB exhibit such pre-post-modern(istic?) dystopian melanges, you ask? Oh, sweet flattering reader, you are too kind... but astute as well. No, DDB has not exhibited in a Chelasean (sea bass) art gallery. YET. But expect it. But back to the mission at hand. We still have food to describe LITERALLY and decry!



Or at least that's what THEY call it ("food" dat is)! LOL!!! Be not mesmerized (or memorized?) though by the translucent colors dancing on the flesh of the meat, or the casual yet meticulously lain strands of cheese perched atop, or even the golden-green splashes of guacamole splayed lavishly in the background... DIS (undelicious d)ISH WAS AWFUL(no "ly "!!! Methinks the dream started unraveling with the sad, limp slivers of lettuce, and began its descent into revulsion and nausea as far from compl(i/e)menting the gustatory gaps from chewy meats, the guacamole actually exasserbated the experience1 DDB might have an iron stomach (honed in the fires of concern for our fellow fan-tastic eaters!) but a paryoxyism of trauma shoots down the spine at the slightest look at these images. BO(bama) should ban these phot(at)oes from being released, but DDB must show da TOOTH of what happened!

And then when a now be-olive-greened hued visual field caught THIS gem:

"Drinking Alcoholic Beverages During Pregnancy Can Cause Birth Defects", DDB could only sway in perplexed apoplexy (whut!) at tha fact dat dere WAS no alcoholic beverlies in sight & at the terrified realish of what Consuming Yummy Taco Commestibles Can Cause... perhaps some horrible combination of tha two (reenactment: yar, gimme two coronas and a beef burrito platter! (9 months later...) EWRECKA!!! TE HE HE!!!. We kid, FIPS. You know we gots nothing but (da g)love for ya (face)).

So, what did DDB did? Retire to more sophisticated environs for a postprandial, holistic remedy, you pray? Well (ar)rest your fears... We not only 'kin, but we 'did!


DDB and DD fo' life!!! Thug life, fools. ~WH(A/U)T~!

1 comment:

  1. Shiiiit, son. Why dat halve gotta go makin dis otter (cute animals, otters are, no? LOL) halve near-bust a gut(-wrenchin, really, bfipsy's dramatic n harrowing d'cline!!) wit such literar(e--so rare!!)y gems as dis here--

    "DDB is not about running down the little guy - not even you chickenunderwear or you in your valiant fight against the FIPS mongrels, Burk C - or discouraging cross-cultural-cuisine forays, in fact we wants to celebrate it, party with it, put a "I DDB" shirt ($14.95 + S/H, kids! LOL(!!!)) on it and send it on its merry way as a proud mom looking from her immaculate entryway though the breeze-sustained open door at her reformed child who's now embraced a life of civility and respect for his fellow man whereas once there was such a concentration of bile running so densely in his putrescent viens dat... whoops! where wuz i? oh yes, da little rascals of the rest'o'rant world. suffice (suf'rice? saffron'rice?) it to say, we lovs em."

    I mean, wut in duh--

    DAT HALVE gone DFW'd up a ver't'ble strom (thurmond? LOL)--I mean, STORM--wit dat packed-to-duh-gills chunk. (Kerplunk. LOL!!)

    Bfips--come out and play. Pls??

    xo,
    ddb

    ReplyDelete