Every Wednesday we’re giving you a deeper look into what makes the minds behind Kempt tick. We call it: The Kempt Five.
Every month, we thoroughly examine the contents of GQ, Details and Esquire, so you don’t have to. This month’s breakdown—starring Bryan Cranston, Porsche 911s, Aubrey Plaza, fathers-in-law, biceps, porn star names, overcoats, Jon Voight, holograms, absinthe summer cocktails and words of wisdom from Richard Simmons—is after the jump.
Dinner plans: you’ve got ’em.
Tapas with friends. Family-style Italian feasts. Surf-and-turf date nights. Late-night tacos. Bottomless mimosa power brunches. All of which have one thing in common: other people.
Which, one could argue, is the entire point of eating. Hell, entire books have been written on this subject. But those who fear the company of no one are missing out on a truly noble and gratifying experience.
Which is why every once in a blue supermoon, it’s a good idea to dine alone. Not because you have to, but because you can. And just because you’ve chosen to spend the night in your own good company doesn’t mean microwavable burritos on your couch—in fact, we believe it should prompt the opposite.
Here we are: the height of feasting season.
That means your focus for the next month is fitting in as many dinners as humanly possible. But be forewarned: increased feasting frequency means busier kitchens and a higher chance of culinary errors—namely in the form of undercooked eggs, overcooked steaks and rogue hairs.
In seasons past, you may have let these sorts of things slide. But this year, you’re winning the holidays. And that means exercising your God-given right to eat dinner the way it was intended to be—even when it means sending it back. It’s an essential move, but not without risk: it can irritate your server, create tension among your dining companions and seriously diminish your dining-out cred. Unless you do it correctly.
Thanksgiving Day is so close, we can nearly taste it. Mr. Hitchcock is so excited, he’s overcome his aversion to birds. It’s undeniable—the holidays are upon us.
Time to get started on a good six-week bender of reckless food consumption, unabashed merriment and some family-appropriate debauchery. Please leave the resolutioning and course correcting for January 2, 2013.
As a first step, start updating your holiday kitsch.
With heavy hearts (and arteries) yesterday we said goodbye to the Prime Burger, one of the last remaining greasy spoons in Manhattan. While our beloved, 74-year-old burger joint couldn’t be saved, its short-order slang must live on.
Diner lingo is by no means exclusive to the Prime Burger—temperamental waitresses and short-order cooks have employed the lippy jargon since the late 1800s. While at times crass (and mildly racist), there’s something undeniably comforting about a gum-smacking gal named Flo commanding some invisible force in the kitchen to “burn one, black and blue, and drag it through the garden.” (Well-done cheeseburger with lettuce, tomato and onion.)
This inspiring diptych comes from our favorite Tumblr of the day, Coffee and the Newspaper, which joins up handsome menswear pics with even more handsome close-ups of food. They haven’t tackled oranges yet, but it’s only a matter of time.
We usually focus on the “wearing fuzzy things” approach to winter, but there are plenty of other tricks for getting the colder half of the year unchilled, starting with your dinner plate.
So in honor of the dropping temperature, we’d like to walk you through the basics of one of our favorite winter foods: chili infused with the Bhut Jolokia, the hottest pepper on earth.
It’s a little dangerous…but it’s worth it.
As connoisseurs of history, we sometimes find styles, habits and turns of phrase from the past that we wouldn’t mind bringing back to the present, Doc Brown-style. This time around, we’re dusting off the continental breakfast.
We like rituals. Pomp. Circumstance. The more accoutrements—the silver service, the folded napkin—the better.
And while the standard breakfast ritual has been whittled down to “coffee and something else,” we’d like to make room for something a bit more elegant. Nothing that would involve any elaborate stove work, just a bit of culinary ceremony at the start of the day…or what is commonly known as the continental breakfast.
We don’t like playing etiquette police, but lately we’ve been seeing a lot of confusion around the proper role of cell phones at dinner. In particular, a certain tech blogger seems to be on his way to defining this as the new normal.
But it isn’t. And it’s not going to be.
As you may have noticed, the internet’s gone a bit bacon crazy in the past year or so. But we always assumed it would stop before it got dangerous.
We were wrong.
This is the latest entry in the bacon wars, a protein-packed cannoli of death known as the Flaming Bacon Lance. It’s made entirely of prosciutto—which we like to think of as weapons-grade bacon—and it spits enough flame to melt through a stainless steel tray.
There’s even a cucumber model for a vegetarian equivalent…but somehow it’s just not the same.
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