Burger Week: Sampling the Basics in a North End Kitchen/Oh Jeez...

If you're in Halifax, and have read any signage over the past few days, or picked up a copy of The Coast (however begrudgingly), then there is no way you don't know it's "fuckin' Burger Week, brah"! For those readers who are unfamiliar here's the 411: Burger Week is a 7-day totally "hot ticket" period.  It's during this time when almost every restaurant and their dog try to ham-burgle one another's thunder (and patrons) through varying combinations of extra-special paddies, toppings, condiments, and buns. It's culinary madness. People get mentally bent, using social media as a common place of worship, and some fliffer* down at "B.W. Headquarters" has even gone so far as to bestow upon our city streets some highly flamboyant, customized transport. That's right, you may not have a car, but the last six days, and upcoming one, do. Of course, it is a Mini Cooper, so it's more like having its own customized set of power wheels, but it's "a set of wheels" none the less. *For insight as to what "fliffing" is - see video below.

Surprising to nobody, this is a problem for me. Listen, I love burgers, and I have nothing against "weeks", but I hate when the intangible get cars over people (specifically, people like me). As far as I am concerned, events do not need their own vehicles, but if I am wrong, and they do, then come on. I can think of so many more deserving occasions that have come and gone without their own "tribute joyride". For example, (in particular order):

1. Me, when I (in my opinion) pulled off cornrows at my rural high school graduation. 
2. Me, when I convinced Sobey's to reimburse me for a pizza I felt was "sub-par" by reporting that "its inability to rise had ruined my (non-existent) 7-year-old daughter's birthday party, leaving all the (make believe) guests in (equally make-believe) tears". 
3. Me, when once, at a friend's gathering, I successfully relocated my "number two(s)" from a toilet that refused to flush, to an undisclosed outdoor area in Chester, Nova Scotia completely undetected by other party goers, like the National Trainwreck Treasure that I am. 
4. And me, when I openly discussed that time (A.K.A. "The Purse Story" for those confidantes who are already familiar), at a friend 's gathering, when I successfully relocated my "number two(s)" from a toilet that refused to flush, to an undisclosed outdoor area in Chester. Nova Scotia and published those details on the internet for everyone to read (see "Number 3"). 

Yes, I have seen the similar recount of poo-toting which also hit the internet today.  May all the women who have taken (fecal) matters into their own hands stand tall and strong together - with light hearts and heavy purses. 

Are you picking up what I am putting down here? I should be driving a fleet of these 
things at the rate my milestones are piling up but hey, their dime, their rules, and let's be honest - that whip is kinda wack anyway. On the plus side, our eateries make up for the annoying parts of Burger Week with the ever elusive, economic unicorn: "reasonable pricing" (usually around 6$). A-ha, so this explains why the meaty contenders are only here for a limited time! God forbid we Haligonians be privy to really sick and affordable burgers the other 358 days of the year, because that would be absurd, right? "No one can be expected to keep up that sort of wizardry, at least not year round!" (someone has obviously and unfortunately decreed...)

Relax, Yo

"Do I look fat in this body?" #BurgerWeekProse

I know what you're thinking, "Give Burger Week a break, you stupid bitch!"*, and you're right. There is definitely more to this festive time than grinding the public's gears with its fleeting nature, adding to the antagonizing hashtag population, and that "dude" in the funky squirrel suit. I'm talking of course about raising money for Feed Nova Scotia. That is awesome, and a sentiment to which I do declare "Holla! Holla! Holla!" (which is Real Housewife of New York City speak for "Gettit Girrrl"). But guys. Guys.  "Do-goodery" does not "a great comedy make", so while I wholeheartedly applaud turning community-wide interest into bank for those in need, this isn't really the place to delve into those particulars. No, this is more of a place to dwell on less-important/unimportant observations; like how on earth I could interpret Burger Week as some sort of a personal slight, or how through a series of rash decisions in the kitchen I ended up "making it my own". So please, forgive me for putting a pin in the goodwill, but I'm just the Regular Food Critic, not The Regular Philanthropist.

*Sidenote: I've decided to take the term "you stupid bitch" back from the douchebags, and now Graham and I put it at the end of every sentence, almost like a term of endearment i.e. "Graham, can you ask for no whip cream on my Café Mocha, you stupid bitch?" or "Jill, the roads are really bad so be careful, you stupid bitch." It's a good thing, trust me.

Graham's Truth About Burger Week

Back to the subject at hand. The other night Graham went behind my back and had one of these Burger Week burgers. I am not saying it was part of a malicious agenda or anything, but wasn't it? Or rather, couldn't it have been? From what I understand, he and his buddy Matt McNair snuck off to Relish to scarf down a couple of real doozies, otherwise known as (see video):

Wow. Stop yelling, amirite? Now, I don't know who has and has not seen The Jinx, but let me tell you, looking into those black, beady, and I'm guessing astigmatism-ized eyes of Robert Durst whilst being interviewed by Andrew Jarecki has nothing on the cold and heartless stare of a man who has recently enjoyed a burger and fry combo without you. And did anyone else feel the scathing casualness in his tone? He's a little too laissez-faire, like he's got something to hide, which could only be the fact that he was really glad he stepped outside of the home for dinner. Ouch.

I could feel his allegiance to myself and my cooking weakening, and became overwhelmed by that "Not on my watch!" sensation I often get when my back's up. It was obvious this Relish person establishment had tickled my man's taste buds, given his figurative crank a helluva turn, and god knows what else. I had to wonder, what did Relish have that I didn't have? I mean, I pretend to be a foodie, I am fake-interested in quality meal options, could it be that I was underestimating the pull and power of Burger Week? Was this one of those situations where the phrase "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em" actually applied? Growing tired of asking questions nobody cared about, I concluded it was. I had no choice but to spring into action, (food)-fighting back against public enemy number one, otherwise known as my boyfriend's wandering palate. And since I literally have the attention-span of a 32-year-old woman with a terribly short attention span, I knew I had to come up with my own creation fast - before I came up with nothing at all and just decided to watch some more episodes of Buffy.

Making My Burger Week Contribution with Whatever the Opposite of "Imagination" Is...

I don't know if you've picked up on this from reading any past reviews of mine or Graham's cooking or not, but we don't really have like, a lot of "ingredients" per se. There is some food in the house, but food and ingredients are two different things. Food is like: I have an orange, I have rye bread, and I have flaked coconut - I have food. But when I have ingredients I have like: noodles, butter and that dusty parmesan that comes in the shaker - I have the ingredients - for one of my favorite meals, which I call "Noodles, Butter, and Parmesan". And speaking of parmesan, I heard through the Google grapevine that the powdery-est versions we keep as kitchens staples are more wood pulp than cheese. Isn't that nuts/the best? Those crafty Krafty kids, they really got us didn't they? As "Mark" from the makers of "Jeff" wold say: (see video)

Buns? More Like Zzzzzzz....

Anyway, anyway, my point is that we aren't operating with fully stocked cupboards or fridge over here, so thank god for my innate inventiveness. If you ask me, in order to make something remarkable, or at least to create a buzz, you need to pinpoint where everyone has laid down their comfort zones and face-plant outside of all of them. Case in point: traditional loafy, puffy, boring buns. Snoooooze-fest. George Costanza once said that toilet paper is the one thing that had never changed in his lifetime, and probably would never change afterward.  He was only sort-of right (which means completely wrong) but you know, I see what he was getting at. I think the same could be said for hamburger buns.  Why haven't we pushed for further development? And for god sakes, don't say using a leaf of lettuce is a viable substitution. It doesn't count. On the other hand, something that does qualify is one of my old favorites - Premium Plus Crackers (Salted Top Edition).


Crackers are good for holding in your hands and making low-budget sliders, as will be demonstrated in a few moments. They also make great buns because they are the same color as buns, and they are almost the same shape, in that they are a shape - so close enough. They are hard but not too hard, and they are crumbly but not too - well actually yeah, they are too damn crumbly, but you have to pick your battles carefully. That's why. when I noticed the 50 sleeves of saltines we had tossed into the back of our kitchen cabinet, and nothing really surrounding them in terms of "other options", I knew they would (have to) be the perfect foundation for my Burger Week burger. Fingers crossed...

Paddies? Might as Well Be Frosted Tips!

In terms of the literal "meat" of the thing, I wanted to keep it flimsy and gross. Luckily, I was in possession of some 50% off, "teetering on the edge of expiration" deli meats, which were no doubt meant to be my burger substitutions.  And to elevate the gourmet-ness of it all, rather than offer only one type of animal source, I was able to offer up two: turkey and roast beef. They both have that characteristic slime shine, and they are wet, so you know they're ... wet.  As you see in the photo, my signature color scheme and style came through fairly effortlessly; muted fleshy/beige-y/bready shades on a yard-sale worthy place setting, and as I could smell, something in that mix really belonged in the garbage. Apart from that, the visual is spot on and after mulling over the idea of adding anything else to, you know, bring some (or any) flavor to the dish, I decide toppings and sauces are very "been there, done that" as far as Burger Week burgers go and call "cut".

Eat. Gross. Yikes. (See Video)

It's a minimalistic masterpiece, and a triumph in terms of prep time, which has got to be under 1 minute. Reflecting on the many victories occurring across this meal's journey to fruition, I realize I have probably broken records along the way for something and/or anything and am therefore in the running for some non-descript award The Coast will likely be taking votes for later this year. Because how can you not love this burger? With no ingredients set in stone, it's essentially the sandwich equivalent of a "choose your own adventure" (Do I got with the pink or the brown meat? Two crackers or open-faced?), and I don't know about you, but that sounds rad.

"Kudos Elaine, on a job.... done." - J.Peterman

In terms of taste, the beef version was okay. The turkey however was, well, the turkey was what should have been thrown away in the first place. I had one bite and was like "Oh my god...where's the dog?" (just kidding our dog only eats whole food now... and tampons.) I give this meal a 2/Harvey's for having two chances to taste good and not really getting any of them right. That being said, would I make them again during a non-"Burger Week" week? Sure. Do I think I could get other people on board? Never, but that's someone's loss (I will let you decide whose exactly). Please check back to The Regular Food Critic as Gingergrass and Wild Leek reviews are being picked away at, so. freaking. slowly. Someday. Someday they'll be done. 

If you want updates from "The Regular Food Critic", along with book news, 
please follow my author page on Facebook and my Twitter!
Show me you care, even if you don't:

Twitter: https://twitter.com/JillianMParsons

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/JillianMaryParsons/

Why Starbucks is Cheap: A Mic Mac Mall Excursion Written by Guest Critic Dianne Hatcher

Second guest spot goes to Dianne, who went to Starbucks which, for a Mom, is all about downtime and stretching out the experience...

"I would be willing to pay double the price for a Starbucks coffee if I had to, and I mean that. No, I haven’t added a shot of Bailey’, it’s simply due to the fact that if I’m drinking a latte, 99% of the time it means I am alone. I’ll explain later, but since I have a family, that shit is priceless. So reviewing a latte is the best excuse to get a little break.

Google maps told me the nearest Starbucks is 47 minutes away. Rural Nova Scotia is probably the only place in the world where a Starbucks is not within walking distance. I wonder how easy it was for Starbucks Execs to do a market analysis of the South Shore and decide not to set up shop. I purchased this particular latté at the Starbucks in Mic Mac Mall. I ordered the Grande Skinny Vanilla Latte. It has got to be the easiest drink to order from the menu - a drink where you don’t have to embarrass yourself in front of strangers fumbling with the words while the barista repeats it back to you like "DID YOU MEAN….this?”. God, I hate that. I mean I hate that when it happens to other people when I'm in line behind them. I order the exact same drink every single time I’m here, since forever, which goes to show how daring I am at trying new things. I used to order a Skinny Vanilla Latte because I cared about the extra calories and fat (skinny is skim milk/fake sugar) and I would rather replace those calories with chemicals than risk my vanity. Now I’m married with two kids and I always get a hefty muffin on the side, so I might as well end the charade and get a normal drink from now on. I’d be doing myself a favor and making the drink even easier to order - "Grande Vanilla Latte please!"

Waiting for my drink at the counter, I watch the baristas working. There is so much mystery around the Starbucks barista, more than any other person that well, makes coffee. Don’t they receive a ton of training and have to pass a complicated test to be able to work there? I don’t know, I’ve just heard that. Well, my barista today is ‘in-training’ and the others are commenting on how great her milk froth is, and that they couldn’t even make that. Should I be happy I have the trainee? I’ll go with that. My biggest complaint about their service is they never spell my name right on the cup!! It’s always with one "n". I get it, most Diane’s are with one "n" - but not me. Everyone who has a weird name knows what that’s like it makes you insane. And I apologize to my son Jaxon for ruining his life with the name I gave him, I must have been feeling ironic when I picked out his name. Just once, I want to go back to the counter, slam my drink down and demand a new one because my order was wrong only for the fact my name was wrong. But I’m not a complete bitch, except in my head. However, my constructive criticism for Starbucks is that they should include in-depth studies of baby name books as part of their orientation. You know, to familiarize themselves with spelling. Minus five "Harvey" points for that oversight.

My latte is really sweet. It reminds me of my sweet, sweet alone time. Now that I live in Chester, I don't mind paying so much for the Starbucks latte, it’s a symbol of Mom freedom. Those few hours alone to run errands. I take a closer look at the actual Starbucks logo now, to see if their symbol resonates with me. I attached a pic. It’s kind of a mermaid with wavy hair, wearing a crown but also with two tails. Umm, what the hell is that supposed to be anyway? Why have I never noticed how crap it is? They are lucky their coffee is so good because their branding fails. I never considered myself to be overly "deep", so I refuse to waste any personal time searching for meaning in a half woman/half fish caffeine goddess.

Okay, so I know you all think I could go to Tim Horton's, or a local coffee shop for that matter. Anything being better than paying for high priced fluff. But local coffee shops with their organic blends are more pretentious than the fake hipsters at Starbucks. I walk into an organic coffee shop and feel like I’m Julia Roberts from Pretty Woman walking into a dress shop on Rodeo Drive. I get the "You don’t belong here" look, due to my brand names and washed hair. On the other hand, you have Tim Horton's. That place is like a special club for members only and since I don’t have my seniors discount card (yet),  I don't feel at home there either (though I could totally work with that aged vibe, being in the 35-45 year-old bracket now). Plus, Tim Horton's is in Chester, which means if I’m there my kids are probably behind me screaming for a Chocolate Chill and Timbits, so there is zero chance of a positive experience.

So I guess what I am really paying for is the total Starbucks experience. The experience of having silence for a few hours. My skinny vanilla latte is really good cold too - I usually drink it over 2-hour+ period, because when it’s done I have to go back to being responsible. Yes, I savour the hell out of it. Today, I will give my drink an "8 out of 10 Tim Hortons", because let's face it, I’m Canadian and everything coffee is compared to Tim’s."

Hey! Help my other writing endeavours (a satirical parenting book written 
from the perspective of a childless woman - me) by following me on Twitter 

and liking my Facebook page. It's all for a book that I have written and 

we want it published. Show me you care, even if you don't:

Twitter: https://twitter.com/HTFtoLaugh

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/HTFtoLaugh/

"Pivia" Café Part 2: A Cup of Coffee i.e. Whatevah Written by Guest Critic Hayley Jean Parsons

I mean, it's pretty, right?

First guest critic Hayley Jean Parsons, the youngest of the four Parsons sisters. This is a little overdue, but here it is nonetheless. Part 2 of our Pavia (or as Hayley calls it, "Pivia") trip...

"It’s overpriced. It’s overhyped. It’s absolutely mandatory for every food blogger to have an abundance of photos of it (remember if you didn’t Instagram it, it didn’t happen). Yes, we are talking about your morning dose of caffeine in whatever form it may be.

Although it pains me to say it, I am unfortunately one of those annoying people who claim they "can’t be human without their first cup of coffee". Of course I can, it’s just my scapegoat if ever I am interpreted as being a raging bitch. Once I decide I’m able (and willing) to step up to the challenge of being a good person; I bite the bullet and buy coffee #1.  

My choice of coffee depends solely on my financial state. If I have money to burn, I usually get a double cappuccino. When I’m poor A.F. (seriously, it’s either one extreme or the other) I get a large "drip" coffee. Cheap. Effective. Boring as hell. And since we're on the topic, allow me to reminisce about the other day at Pavia, I decided to channel my inner Beyoncé and splurge on a double cappuccino and a muffin! Whateves right? They gotta know what they're doing! Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

We forgot to keep a picture of Pavia's Coffee.
Close enough.

Okay so let’s start off with the muffin. Honestly, it was fine. I’m not going to let the muffin take the heat for something it didn’t do. It was pretty moist (cue the gags), nutty, and some would even say delicious. Unfortunately, I was too blinded by my coffee (or lack thereof) to even notice all of my muffin’s wonderful attributes. The coffee was overshadowing the rest of my order, and not in a good way. It was as if I had asked for a paper cup with a small side of coffee. It looked more like something made for a kid’s menu that only children under the age of 12 could order off of. Do you see what I’m getting at? It was so tiny. The tiniest.

I looked at my coffee, enthusiastically said "Thank you" as if I’d never been so grateful in my life (fake it till you make it right?). I walked over to the coffee station, sprinkled some cinnamon on top, grabbed a lid, and was ready to go…or so I thought. Some way, somehow, the lid was too small. I’m telling you, there’s no way in hell they could sell a coffee smaller than the one I ordered, but the fact that this particular top wasn't fitting means they must, and that is just obscene. The size of the too small lid tells me they are basically serving something up in thimbles, and to me, that just doesn't seem practical. I rectify my terrible mistake by fetching the correctly sized lid, and I put it to the test. This one needed to prove itself. My sister and I put the top on my coffee, took it off, put it on, took it off, so on and so forth until we were confident it was the one we were looking for.

This lid was definitely not trying to pull a fast one on us. This second lid, this was the lid for me. And, um, anyways. Then we left. Pavia keeps their original rating of 0/Harvey's for putting me in a situation where I am humiliated by having to make two trips to the coffee station."

If you want updates from "The Regular Food Critic", along with book news, 
please follow my author page on Facebook and my Twitter!
Show me you care, even if you don't:

Twitter: https://twitter.com/JillianMParsons

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/JillianMaryParsons/

Heated "Iced Hot Chocolate" From Pro Skateboards - A Love Story

Well, what a whirlwind it has been since I published my self-reflection on the Pro Skate incident. You know, the one I covered (in great and embellished detail) just yesterday on this very chunk of online real estate.  Let me tell you something, opening up about being a dumb-dumb has seemed to be a good thing. As was bound to happen, I find myself now a raging inspiration for anyone and everyone who has made an ass of themselves at a food/drink establishment simply by failing masterfully at being a normal human being. Look at me, basically saving lives by promoting social adeptness through the awareness of social ineptness. I'm not much of a public speaker, but yes, I will be available for talks at your university graduation and/or high school assembly. If I can pencil you in.


I guess I really am "the change" the world needs, and that's a big deal, right? Wrong. The real big deal is this coffee my main man just brought through the door. It's from the ladies at Pro Skate, just around the corner from this very living room.  They had heard my story and were so deeply affected, that when Graham ordered my "Iced Hot Chocolate" heated (and by that I mean, when he ordered me a Mochaccino), they felt he must have been mistaken. For all they knew, I took my drinks cold. And decaffeinated. So they left me a note, just to make sure. See?

If that isn't spunk, then I don't know what is. A personalized cup, with a message, just for me. A way for her to say she knows, that I know, that she now knows. It's a dialogue and I love it. A true "day maker". And check out that score! I dedicate it to the "Iced Hot Chocolate" in all of us.

Hey! Help my other writing endeavours (a satirical parenting book written 
from the perspective of a childless woman - me) by following me on Twitter 

and liking my Facebook page. It's all for a book that I have written and 

we want it published. Show me you care, even if you don't:

Twitter: https://twitter.com/HTFtoLaugh

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/HTFtoLaugh/

Water: A Closer Look/Pavia Café Part 1

What does the snowflake mean?

Water doesn’t get enough reviews, good or bad, so I thought it was a great subject for my second official critique. Specifically, the water I bought at Pavia on the 5^th floor of the Halifax Regional Library on Spring Garden Road, or as I like to call it, "the place where I backed into a concrete parking barrier and went into a subsequent blind rage".  Here it is, amongst some of Hayley Parsons' knickknacks, and apparently it's called "Eska". 

Yup. That’s water alright.  Check out that glass bottle. It’s transparent. Classic glass.  I like how the neck swoops and tapers in traditional bottle fashion.  Makes it easier to grip in case this empty ever needs to become a weapon.  Pavia sells these puppies for 2.50$, which is super annoying when I remember that I have loads of this shit at home, and on tap none the less. 

Our Barista made Hayley a vagina in her coffee.

Pavia (or “Pivia” as Hayley Jean calls it) is kind of "too cool for school". They have weird coconut water that I didn’t photograph, but I distinctly remember reading the label and saying to myself “Oh, jeez...” which is never a good sign.  The sandwiches are wrapped in paper and are like 9.00$ with tax. Nine Dollars! And they don’t even offer up a preview! I mean, if I am gonna drop a "T" (that’s a ten dollar bill) on some bread and some middles (i.e. meat, lettuce, pickle, tomato), I want to see how stacked those middles are. How do I know Pavia isn't just hot potato-ing my lunch and after a series of unwraps won't leave me with a pocket-sized panini or some shiz? Don’t trust food you cannot see. Words to live by.

And that's how it's done!

And speaking of words to live by, sorry, I mean not speaking of words to live by, back to the water. I opened the cap and like clockwork, off it came. I give the makers of Eska points for being predictable in a really necessary way.  I peer deep down the neck and just as it seems from the outside, the inside also appears to be 100% l'eau. Looks wet in there, as it was bound to be once the manufacturers filled ‘er up, and although visual evaluation is important, I try to use all my senses when performing my assessments. My ears feel at ease, happy to be in the absence of those deafening sounds of carbonation. I am also relieved by the lack of scent. Smelly water can ruin thirst and appetite, just take a stroll down by the ocean next time the tide goes out and you'll see what I mean. Yikes. But it's the taste (or lack thereof) that is really going to make or break this beverage. I hate to dish out a "thumbs down", so I cross a few of my digits for Eska instead. Water's gotta be a tough one to fuck up, but I am sure it's been done before, and will be done again.

Down the gullet it goes. I am supah hung over, so it might as well be liquid gold. Too good, and I immediately am struck by the panic one gets when you realise the amount of water you actually need is going to cost about 10$ more than what you are willing to spend. Apart from that though, I'm impressed. It’s cold, flavorless, and basically serving the only purpose I need it to: lubing up/cooling down my burning throat from the previous evening's one too many smokes and twenty too many ounces of vodka. It’s like an icepack for your insides and boy do I need it. The whole thing goes down fast and I decide I want to keep the bottle after, and only after, my little sister asks if she can have it. So I take it home, where I get some use out of it, as is captured in the image above. Here you can see Graham Ferguson demonstrating how to undertake a refill, and yes, this can be done in the home. If however there is confusion on how topping off a container works, check out the video tutorial below. It's a quickie, so don't blink, or you'll miss it.

Pavia’s water gets a "zero out of Harvey's" for costing me money (which is the rating system I have settled on: zero being bad, Harvey's being the best for obvious reasons). Almost everything I eat/drink will receive a "zero out of Harvey's" simply for breaking my bank, so I insist Eska and the dumb-dumb library café not take it personally. It's just me being cheap and bitter, not necessarily in that order. There's an opportunity to make up for this bad score anyway with Part 2 of my review, which will be on a cup of coffee purchased by Hayley. Stay tuned, I have a feeling this one is going to be a doozy.

If you want updates from "The Regular Food Critic", along with book news, 
please follow my author page on Facebook and my Twitter!
Show me you care, even if you don't:

Twitter: https://twitter.com/JillianMParsons

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/JillianMaryParsons/