Author: Kayla

REVIEW: Birds Eye Steamfresh Sweet & Spicy Chicken Meals for Two

Kayla 26 Comments

Like most children, I was picky when it came to food. I would bitch and moan if I found one tiny pea in my mother’s homemade beef stew, I would demand my sandwiches be cut in quarters and I would only eat raw vegetables. That selectiveness faded when I became a college student. My food qualifications have gone down significantly.

Don’t get me wrong, I still like to eat healthy, but if it’s a toss up between partying, books and gourmet food, I’m going to choose $2 You-Call-Its at the local sleazy establishment that always has some weird Willie Nelson look-alike in the back nursing Old Milwaukee over spending time preparing venison filets with a raspberry reduction.

Actually, I wouldn’t even know where to start when it comes to whipping up a meal, since my culinary expertise goes from grilling chicken breasts and steaks on my George Foreman grill to putting the right amount of water when making Easy Mac. However, learning how to cook is on my list of things I would like to accomplish. It’s pretty high up on the list since it is more useful than playing the didgeridoo.

Birds Eye Steamfresh Meals for Two masks somebody’s lack of cooking skills (all you do is toss it in the microwave for 10 minutes and open it up) when you need to impress the person you’ve been dating, because your Chemistry.com profile is built upon lies.

“Why, yes, I am Egyptian royalty, and I’m wonderful in the kitchen…and the bedroom…*meow*”

But if you do serve this meal as apart of a romantic dinner that includes box wine, paper plates, and suppressed memories about that summer you spent with your crazy uncle who bragged about being a roadie for Whitesnake, don’t be surprised by the confusing stares your date will be giving the plate because of the random ingredients tossed in there. It’s like whatever extra was around in the food lab was thrown in. Tomatoes and onions? Sure, they go with chicken and pasta. Olives? Some people like them, others don’t. Raisins? Did you say raisins? Well, they’re in there as well.

Maybe I’m stereotyping things, but when I hear Sweet & Spicy, Asian-inspired meals from a mall food court come to mind. But there’s nothing Asian about this dish. There’s a heck of a lot more spice (a.k.a red pepper) than sweet, which I enjoyed. I can’t really define an exact flavor for it, but it did remind me of something I had on an international flight once. (Airline Gourmet maybe?)

The rigatoni was perfectly al dente, the chicken was plentiful and there were a lot of raisins, which I guess could be the “sweet” part, but they really didn’t add much flavor. Instead they added a “What the hell is this? Oh, it’s a raisin” element, because the raisins became shriveled up brown things at the bottom of the bowl (even when tossed around). The serving size is just about right when you feel like you could eat, but if you haven’t had anything in your stomach all day except a packet of old peanut butter crackers you found in your desk, then you can easily eat both portions, pretend the meal never existed and order take-out when your date comes over.

(Nutrition Facts – 1/2 bag – 370 calories, 10 grams of fat, 2 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 35 milligrams of cholesterol, 930 milligrams of sodium, 53 grams of carbohydrates, 4 grams of fiber, 18 grams of sugar, 20 grams of protein, 15% vitamin A, 2% vitamin C, 6% calcium and 20% iron.)

Item: Birds Eye Steamfresh Sweet & Spicy Chicken Meals for Two
Price: $6.75
Size: 24 ounces
Purchased at: Market Basket
Rating: 6 out of 10
Pros: Super easy to make. Pretending you know how to cook. Pretty healthy if you stick to the portion size. High in protein. The didgeridoo. Finding snacks that you didn’t know you had.
Cons: Random ingredients. Slightly misleading product name. Creepy old dudes at college bars. Waiting 10 minutes. Lots of sodium.

REVIEW: Beemans Gum

Kayla 22 Comments

Beemans Gum

Like the late great Anna Nicole Smith, I’m fond of old things, but unlike Miss Smith, the old things I enjoy does not include fossils of billionaire oil tycoons or expired bottles of TrimSpa found underneath a purple velvet sofa cushion that Bobby Trendy picked out while I thought I was Prince (Is it too soon for an Anna Nicole joke?).

Don’t get me wrong, modern technology is wonderful; where would this fine blog be without it? Maybe morse code or carrier pigeon reviews? But let’s step back for a moment; when young people would say “That’s the bee’s knees” instead of “That’s the shiznit.” A time when dapper young men would check out if a gal had nice gams instead of an ill nana, badonkadonk or fire crotch.

A time when Beemans Gum wasn’t considered old.

When was that? Let’s just say it’s older than your great-aunt Josie from Brooklyn. You know the one I’m talking about. The great-aunt that pinches your cheeks, thinks you’re still fifteen (even though you graduated medical school) and still has plastic on the sofa, because she believes FDR or the Pope might stop in for a cup of Sanka.

Actually, Beemans Gum is much, MUCH older.

Yet, even if it is ancient, its flavor is better than a lot of the latest chewing gums out there, which are in packaging that looks like it could be in an off-beat European home décor magazine. Originally it was a gum to aid in digestion and, to me, it tastes a little bit like Birch Beer. So what if the Beemans logo is plain and the packaging isn’t anything that will win design awards? It’s still so much fucking cooler (or “dandy” if it’s 1898) than modern chewing gums.

After doing some research on the product, I found out that Beemans Gum was considered lucky among pilots during the heyday of aviation. I guess Amelia Earhart wasn’t a fan of chewing gum (Is it too soon for an Amelia Earhart joke?).

Beemans and other nostalgic gums like Black Jack (which is amazing) and Clove have been released for public consumption every two years, and 2009 is one of those years. So I recommend picking up a pack before you actually need a time machine to go back to 2009 to get some. But then if that’s case, it would be worth it to go back to the turn of the century when it was cheaper, probably even tasted better and was widely available. Too bad us ladies won’t have the right to vote.

If you do go back, just don’t say, “Hey shawty, can I get yo digits?” to the nice girl in front of you, because just like if you did it in 2009, she would kick your ass.

Item: Beemans Gum
Price: 75 cents
Purchased at: Christmas Tree Shops
Size: 5 sticks
Rating: 8 out of 10
Pros: Surprisingly long lasting flavor. Early 20th Century slang. Not a fruit or mint gum. Aids in digestion. The first marketed chewing gum.
Cons: Only available for a limited time. Early 21st Century slang. Not knowing when it’s too soon to make jokes about celebrities. Horrible attempts that clueless men use to get a woman’s phone number. Plastic on furniture.

REVIEW: Wendy’s Coffee Toffee Twisted Frosty

Kayla 15 Comments

Out of the Big (or Fat Ass) Three in fast food burger joints, Wendy’s has always gone against the grain. Sure, Mickey D’s invented the Happy Meal (aka Here’s some food kid, mommy has a headache Meal) which has been aiding in childhood obesity for thirty years; Burger King prides itself in its flame broiled burgers that you can smell within a ten mile radius even if you are driving in a heavily armored tank; but Wendy’s went a different route.

Instead of marketing to children (or parents who just want to shut their kids up), or pumping their aromas out of their restaurant holes, The Red Headed She-Devil puts random items on their menus like baked potatoes, a discontinued line of deli sandwiches that in Greek translates to “freshit,” and the not quite a shake, but not quite a soft serve ice cream-type concoction know as the Frosty.

For years, Wendy’s only had one type of Frosty — chocolate.

No, not Death By Chocolate or Triple PMS Give Me Some Fucking Chocolate or Madagascar Organic Chocolate, it was simply chocolate. Now, fast food companies (yes, Wendy’s claims it’s “better” than fast food, but let’s be honest here, if you can consume an entire meal while still in the driver’s seat of your shitty, banana yellow 1992 Geo Metro convertible, it’s fast food) realize that people want choices with eye catching names, or ones with pronunciations worse than she sells seashells by the seashore.

The Coffee Toffee Twisted Frosty is the latter.

Twisted is one of those words that could be used as a slang term. For example, “I was so twisted last night that I think I had relations with that cardboard cutout of Zac Efron.”

Wendy’s went with the traditional use of the word “twisted” in describing their Coffee Toffee Twisted Frosty, however they weren’t successful. As you can see in the picture above, there is no twisting going on. It was a minor disappointment since I knew I was going to be engaging my two favorite flavors: coffee and pieces of a Heath or Skor bar.

After popping a Lactaid, I gave it a whirl (or twist). The coffee flavoring was good, but not strong enough and I wish the Heath or Skor pieces were slightly larger, but I guess they want them small enough so you can suck them through a straw.

Just like borrowing the idea of square patties from White Castle, Wendy’s did the same thing with the Coffee Toffee Twisted Frosty by borrowing the concept from the queen (pun intended) of blended soft serve treats — the Blizzard.

If there was a Pay-Per-View boxing match between the Coffee Toffee Twisted Frosty and the Heath Blizzard, you should put your money on the Blizzard. Sure, it’s getting up there in age, but it still delivers. It’s larger, has more flavor and it knows it. The Coffee Toffee Twisted Frosty was good at first, but then it just got sickening and I couldn’t finish it.

But that could also be my gastrointestinal problems.

(Nutrition Facts – 12 ounce – 540 calories, 20 grams of fat, 15 grams of saturated fat, 0.5 grams of trans fat, 45 milligrams of cholesterol, 270 milligrams of sodium, 83 grams of carbohydrates, 1 gram of fiber, 69 grams of sugar, 9 grams of protein, 15% vitamin A, 30% calcium and 6% iron.)

Item: Wendy’s Coffee Toffee Twisted Frosty
Price: $2.79
Size: 12 ounces
Purchased at: Wendy’s
Rating: 5 out of 10
Pros: Coffee and Toffee is a good blend. Smelling Burger King from 10 miles away. Seeing a balding man in a banana yellow Geo Metro convertible eating fast food in a parking lot. Heath or Skor. The “Do You Want to Get Frosty With Me” song.
Cons: Way too much saturated fat. 0.5g of the evil trans fat. Needing to carry Lactaid with me at all times. Hooking up with a cardboard cut out of Zac Efron. Small toffee pieces.

REVIEW: Taco Bell Pina Colada Frutista Freeze

Kayla 17 Comments

Where can you find an apartment, a vintage Megazord and possibly the love of your life, or just someone who can accompany you to a dance instead of a long distant relative with a killer overbite and the annoying personality combo of Marie Osmond and Elisabeth Hasselbeck? No, it’s not your local flea market, although I have heard of people scoping out sexy “honeyz” and “ballaz” as well as counterfeit designer bags by Preda, Zoach and Lou E. ViTon (I think that’s the name of the guy who owns the hoagie shop by my apartment). If you’re looking for love or something else, look no further than everyone’s semi-slutty friend, the Internet, at a little known place called Craigslist.

Craigslist provides hours and hours of comedy when I am trying to accomplish work that includes coming up with new double entendres, or perfecting the “That’s what (insert pronoun here) said” routine. The best part of Craigslist is the personal ads. You won’t find 1,000 dimensions of connectivity that can help you find the person who enjoys long walks on a nude beach as well as Bukovinian Dance. Instead, you’ll find people that cut to the chase and just tell you what they want (what they really, really want) by simple, sometimes abbreviated phrases like: BIG DIK WNTD 4 GDTIME.

The Taco Bell Pina Colada Frutista Freeze is the offspring of two beloved food items that found each other via Craigslist, the Metro, or a VH1 reality show. You have the older-than-it-looks Slushie (or in Taco Bell’s case, the “Freeze” portion of the Frutista Freeze), who, let’s be honest here, has been around the block with everyone from Coke to Pepsi, and even had a bi-curious rendezvous with Punchy, the Hawaiian Punch dude. Then there’s the sexy, oh so sweet and juicy pineapple (aka the golden fruit of lusciousness). Delicious and nutritious on its own, yet it seems to me that this fruit is always teaming up with something not so healthy, like sugary syrup or cake that is served upside down. This latest marriage is no exception.

Now, I must admit, I do like pina coladas, but I absolutely fucking hate getting caught in the rain, and I won’t even attempt to try a Feathered Peacock Pose. That being said, I was looking forward to the Pina Colada Frutista Freeze. The first sip didn’t whisk me away to some paradise where I would ride a white stallion on the beach; instead it brought me back to when I would order virgin versions of the beverage on Caribbean cruises with my folks. I haven’t consumed a pina colada (both virgin and whore) in quite sometime, but Taco Bell’s version fulfilled my pina colada desires.

The slush part, which is a perfect combination of coconut and pineapple, could be great on its own. But when you throw pineapple cubes on top, it just elevates this icy beverage into something a little classy. Yes, I just called something produced by Taco Bell classy. The Frutista Freeze comes in one size, which absolutely sucks because, just when you’re about to reach frozen beverage orgasm, it’s all gone. The only thing missing from Taco Bell’s Frutista Freeze (besides alcohol to all of us of legal age) is the little umbrella. And as everyone knows, that little umbrella means everything when sipping on a frozen pina colada.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 Frutista Freeze – 230 calories, 0 grams of fat, 20 milligrams of sodium, 58 grams of carbohydrates, 0 grams of fiber, 48 grams of sugar and 0 grams of protein.)

Item: Pina Colada Frutista Freeze
Price: $1.99
Purchased at: Taco Bell
Size: 479 grams
Rating: 8 out of 10
Pros: Sweet icy goodness. Real fruit. Making fun of people that try to find true love by sleazy means. Finding vintage 90’s toys. Fat free.
Cons: No umbrella. Getting caught in the rain. Only comes in one size. Marie Osmond.

REVIEW: Long Trail Blackbeary Wheat

Kayla 22 Comments

Beer and college go together like peanut butter and jelly, spaghetti and meatballs, Bret Michaels and anti-fungal medication, Botox and the cast of The Real Housewives of New Jersey, RuPaul and surgical tape…

Okay, I think you get the idea. But, how about beer and fruit?

“Beer and fruit you say? I don’t want no fruity stuff in my brewski. I don’t even want that little pansy orange when I get a Blue Moon. Fruit and beer!?! Knock it off with your crazy talk, stop blocking the TV and go make me a turkey pot pie, woman.”

Well, Mr. Stereotypical Domestic Beer Drinker, I guess you wouldn’t be willing to try Long Trail’s Blackbeary (yes, Beary) Wheat.

Just like you, Mr. Stereotypical Domestic Beer Drinker, I too am a consumer of beers typically found in packs of 30 due to the crickets that have found a place in my wallet and chirp on cue when I open it just to piss me off and make fun of the fact that I am a poor college student. Those bastards. However sometimes when I want to splurge (especially when I’m in New Hampshire where beer is much cheaper than the Keystone State.) I pick up something that’s local and what I assume has better quality than a 30-pack of The Beast.

Long Trail is a brewery that hails from Vermont and…

“Vermont you say!?! You’re telling me they make beer in the state that got those Birkenstock-wearin’ liberal hippies, ice cream with names that are always a play on words and maple syrup!?! I told ya to knock it off with your crazy talk. And where the hell is my turkey pot pie?”

Well, yes, Mr. Stereotypical Domestic Beer Drinker, Long Trail is from Vermont and, actually, Vermont has more breweries per capita than any other state. Throughout the year, Long Trail likes to put out specialty brews that fit the season, and usually they have cute names and adorable labels with bears skiing or lounging out by trees or, in the case of the Blackbeary Wheat, an angry wife holding a rolling pin about to smack her husband who is attempting to take a piece of pie.

“Cute and adorable you say!?! Beer ain’t supposed to be cute or adorable. I need a beer that uses hot babes with their jugs bouncing up and down in their commercials, not some damn cartoon bear. Speaking about pie, where the hell is mine!?!”

Oh, Mr. Stereotypical Domestic Beer Drinker, you are so right. Beer shouldn’t be about how cute the label is; it’s all about the taste. The right amount of hops, how much alcohol it has, how quickly you can pound it during a game of beer pong, or with Long Trail Blackbeary Wheat, the perfect fruit to grain ratio.

“Ratio!?! What the hell are you talkin’ about, ratio? When I’m drinkin’ a nice cold one I don’t wanna think about some damn mathematical equation!”

Nor do I, Mr. Stereotypical Domestic Beer drinker, but when I do drink a fruit type beer like Sam Adams Cherry Wheat, I keep in mind the unification of fruit and grain. However, I couldn’t find any unification whatsoever while drinking the Blackbeary Wheat. In fact, I had to do a double take at the label to make sure I was drinking a fruit infused brew. The fruit flavor was nonexistent, like Spencer Pratt’s brain, which left my mouth wanting something with more substance even after I downed two of them.

“See, I told ya. Don’t buy those fancy, pansy-ass beers with cute names, stick to brews that got one syllable names like Bud or Miller.”

Um, Mr. Stereotypical Domestic Beer Drinker, Miller has two syllables…

“One. Two. Same difference. Now what did I say? Stop blockin’ the TV and go make me a turkey pot pie, woman.”

Item: Long Trail Blackbeary Wheat
Price: $11.99 (on sale)
Size: 12 oz – 12 pack
Purchased at: Shaw’s
Rating: 3 out of 10
Pros: It’s beer. Funny/adorable label. Beer commercials. Playing beer pong. Only 6 grams of carbs. Being able to purchase beer at a grocery store. Poking fun at misogynistic stereotypes.
Cons: Literally no trace of blackberry. Literally no buzz. The crickets in my wallet rubbing it in that I purchased this instead of a 30-pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon.