There just hasn’t been enough food porn on this site lately.  I’m sorry.  I just haven’t invested the time to either process the photos of what I’m eating, or to write about it.  I know, you dear reader, are sad.  I’m sad too - it’s winter and I’m still waiting to see if the Holy Grail of tomato plants overwinters, and then if it produces…  And I haven’t been eating enough barbecue lately… It’s a tragedy, I know…

The photo above demonstrates my “eating style.”  It’s not just enough to macerate and digest your food, you also have to intimidate, worship and drive it into submission, first.  That’s my Kingburger with egg, extra tomato, relish and onions at the Redondo Beach Fatburger, a place that is one of the happy bridges between my adolescence and my adulthood - many a happy meal has been eaten there, to the tune of jazz and blues from their often free jukebox.  It’s also an appropriate image to note the all too recent passing of Lovie Yancy, Fatburger founder and all around hamburger evangelist.  Although I sometimes wonder if my burger was as good as they were in the old days, and I’ve seen Fatburger prices get dangerously stratospheric, I keep retuning year after year.  RIP Lovie Yancy - your labors have brought so much culinary joy to so many.

At top: Threat, photo by Michele Hubacek, a poor soul who all too often has to witness my eating habits in awe and occasional shame.  This shame is best illustrated with this image, showing the disparity between what I eat and what she eats - That tiny, sad, pathetic thing on the left is her Baby Fat, which she only had a few bites of and finished later, and that open-jawed cardiac arrestor on the right is what I might call a snack - it barely survived long enough for the shutters on the cameras to do their magic.

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