Author: Drew

REVIEW: Quiznos Prime Rib on Garlic Bread Sandwich

Drew 15 Comments

Quiznos Prime Rib on Garlic Bread

There are few things more appealing to a man than the prospect of a well-made sandwich.  An extra hour of sleep.  A come hither look from his wife or girlfriend, or casual female friend, or that woman who winked at him in a bar on June 18, 2003, who may or may not have had something in her eye.  A YouTube video of monkeys smoking and throwing poop.  Ladies, take a lesson. If you want your man to do something, be it overthrowing your brother or finally taking down those Christmas lights (plus light-up dreidel and menorah), be waiting in his bed with smoky eyes, a video of monkeys fighting, and a grilled cheese and bacon sandwich.  It worked for Cleopatra and it will work for you.

So needless to say, I was looking forward to Quiznos’ Prime Rib on Garlic Bread sandwich.  I don’t frequent Quiznos often because there’s only one nearby and they’re a bit on the pricier side, but I’ve always enjoyed their food when I’ve eaten there, and how can you go wrong with prime rib and garlic bread? Admittedly I was expecting it to be made with actual garlic bread, which I still maintain would be awesome.  Instead it’s regular bread with garlic aioli sauce liberally (depending on your server) spread across it.  This has the effect of giving the sandwich a garlic smell, and the flavor of the sauce is definitely in the garlic family, but not as bold or in-your-face as pure garlic.  More refined, if that makes any sense, a smoother garlic taste, like if you’re used to drinking IPAs and someone slides you a wheat beer.

Apologies to any non-alcoholics who don’t get that reference.

Note that it also comes with lettuce and tomato. They’re not pictured because Drew does not do healthy things.  Hilariously, as soon as I pulled out my camera to take the photographs, the woman who prepared the sandwich came over like eight times to make sure it tasted good and wasn€™t too burnt.  My fault, I guess, for not wearing a sign saying “I AM NOT A QUIZNOS CORPORATE SPY SENT TO EVALUATE YOUR SANDWICH-MAKING SKILLS, I AM A LOWLY FOOD BLOGGER WHO WILL NOT BE DISCLOSING YOUR SPECIFIC LOCATION.”  I still have a lot to learn, I€™m afraid.

Quiznos Prime Rib on Garlic Bread Innards

The amount of prime rib in the sandwich is what I would describe as perfectly adequate.  (Unlike the sodium, which is impressively obscene.)  At no point did I find myself biting down on nothing but
bread, like a teenager finding out his date’s bra is filled with Kleenex; but neither was I ever pleasantly surprised by the sheer quantity, like realizing she’s been wearing a sports bra all evening. You might be able to finagle a little extra meat if you’re more attractive than I am, or if you throw in a little hip shake or some free tickets to the gun show.  Still, what was there was flavorful, and they didn’t skimp on the cheese.  

The bread was, of course, toasted and made for a nice contrast with the creamy garlic sauce.  The edges got a little blackened, as you can see; I don’t mind a little char myself, but be on the lookout if you’re not okay with that.  I’ll offer that the sauce could maybe have been spread out a bit better — in some bites it overpowered the prime rib flavor, in others I could barely taste it — but again, that’s more attributable to your individual sandwich preparer.  (No, I will not call them “artists” until they use my tax dollars to create something that A) doesn’t look like anything, and B) is colossally ugly.  Veggie subs don’t count.)

Overall, the garlic sauce manages to complement the meat and cheese nicely to create a good sandwich. I’d like to give it a higher score, but that price is just ludicrous for the size of what you’re getting. I know Quiznos brands itself as the “high end” fast food sub joint, but while the sandwich WAS tasty and I’m presuming the meat was taken from only the most pampered, humanely euthanized cows, there is absolutely no way you should be paying $5.49 plus tax for a 6-inch sandwich.  (It’s also available in medium and large sizes, which undoubtedly come with paperwork for the mortgages necessary to buy them.) I reserve the right to change that score if I spontaneously start dropping gold nuggets in my boxers tomorrow, but until then, this is a yummy sandwich that I would suggest you let someone else buy for you.

(Nutrition Facts — 1 small sandwich — 560 calories, 245 calories from fat, 27.5 grams of fat, 12 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of artificial trans fat, 0.5 grams of natural trans fat, 85 milligrams of
cholesterol, 1820 milligrams of sodium, 43 grams of carbohydrates, 1 gram of fiber, 5 grams of sugar, and 32 grams of protein.)

Item: Quiznos Prime Rib on Garlic Bread Sandwich
Price: $5.49
Size: Small sandwich
Rating: 6 out of 10
Pros: Tasty garlic aioli sauce suitable replacement for garlic bread.  Made quickly.  Pleasant, non-overpowering smell.  Visually appealing when bread is closed.  Reasonable amount of meat.  Sports bras.  Attentive servers.
Cons: Given the price, apparently made with truffles and lobster. Sodium explosion.  Not actual garlic bread.  Reasonable amount of meat… if it was a $3 sandwich.  Burns easily.  Paranoid servers.

REVIEW: Kellogg’s Ice Cream Shoppe Frosted Rainbow Cookie Sandwich Pop-Tarts

Drew 11 Comments

Kellogg's Ice Cream Shoppe Frosted Rainbow Cookie Sandwich Pop-Tarts

Many of you reading this may wonder why a 30-year-old man is reviewing Kellogg’s Ice Cream Shoppe Frosted Rainbow Cookie Sandwich Pop-Tarts [22], a sugary abomination clearly designed solely to be eaten by children for, you know, “breakfast.”  (We know better, don’t we, kids?)  It’s pretty simple — reviewing a fine product like Kellogg’s Ice Cream Shoppe Frosted Rainbow Cookie Sandwich Pop-Tarts [61] is the easiest way for me to meet my word quota without having to say anything of substance.  If you look carefully, you’ll realize this entire review is only five sentences long.  Can I get an “Amen!” for cheating the system?  A few more of these and I’ll finally be able to afford those pec implants.  I mean, penis smallification surgery!  Obviously.

But since we’re here, we might as well take a closer look at this affront to parents and dentists alike, by which of course I’m referring to Kellogg’s Ice Cream Shoppe Frosted Rainbow Cookie Sandwich Pop-Tarts [161].  As a teenager I used to scarf down the S’mores variety with the same frequency that most of my peers were watching scrambled porn (€œI think that was a boob!  Sweet!€), but I haven’t had one of any kind in probably a decade.  Back then I never bothered reading nutritional information because I was swimming a billion hours a week (estimated) so it really didn’t matter, but apparently Pop-Tarts is not health food.  Crazy!

But what they lack in nutritional value, Kellogg’s Ice Cream Shoppe Frosted Rainbow Cookie Sandwich Pop-Tarts [252] more than make up for in visual insanity.  The package alone has caused more seizures than a viewing of Tron on acid — you have the respective Kellogg’s and Pop-Tarts logos superimposed on an old-timey “ice cream shoppe” (the extra “pe” stands for quaintness) awning, with a helpful “New Flavor!” tag in one corner, and that’s just the top half.  The bottom shows a picture of the Pop-Tart itself with a real ice cream sandwich flying around it, leaving a rainbow comet trail in its wake that also proclaims it a good source of calcium.  Holy balls, I want to eat one of these and go fight a leprechaun.  You’re my bitch now, Lucky.  Removing one from the foil wrapper is only a slight letdown, as it does indeed boast an abundance of multicolored sprinkles, plus a chocolate swirl.  I can honestly say it’s the least boring Pop-Tart I’ve ever seen, which is not saying much, but there it is.

Kellogg's Ice Cream Shoppe Frosted Rainbow Cookie Sandwich Pop-Tarts Innards

Obviously Kellogg’s can’t put actual ice cream inside their Pop-Tarts, yet have set themselves the task of making the brand taste as much like ice cream as possible, so I was curious about how they’d accomplish this.  The answer, it turns out, is “just cram a whole mess of frosting up in there.”  It really tastes more like marshmallow or cake frosting than ice cream, which is not such a bad thing.  The rainbow sprinkles further put me in the mindset of cake, to the point where “Ye Olde Birth-day Cake” would probably be a more accurate brand name than “Ice Cream Shoppe.”  The chocolate drizzle on the top does indeed look a bit like hot fudge, but unless you’ve got hypersensitive taste buds, you’re not going to be able to detect the chocolate — the frosting taste dominates over all, with perhaps a bit of sprinkle evident if my eyes aren’t just liking the pretty colors and arbitrarily assigning a taste to them.  And let’s be honest, any ice cream cookie sandwich you’ve ever eaten had either chocolate chips or M&Ms in the cookies, not just the rainbow sprinkles offered to us by Kellogg’s Ice Cream Shoppe Frosted Rainbow Cookie Sandwich Pop-Tarts [616].

I wasn’t really disappointed by the Pop-Tarts because they still taste good, even if they don’t perfectly capture the flavor they’re trying to approximate.  They reminded me more than a little of the S’mores Pop-Tarts of my youth, just with less chocolate and a more overtly sugary flavor to the filling.  True, they taste more like a birthday cake than an ice cream sandwich, but since either is a perfectly acceptable treat when you’re a kid, I’d say they meet the needs of their target audience, as well as those of us just looking to recapture a bit of our youth.

Thanks Kellogg’s Ice Cream Shoppe Frosted Rainbow Cookie Sandwich Pop-Tarts.  [727! Word quota accomplished!]

(Nutrition Facts – 1 pastry – 200 calories, 6 grams of fat, 2 grams of saturated fat, 2 grams of polyunsaturated fat, 1 gram of monounsaturated fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 200 milligrams of sodium, 35 grams of carbohydrates, less than 1 gram of fiber, 15 grams of sugar, 2 grams of protein, and a myriad vitamins and minerals.)

Item: Kellogg’s Ice Cream Shoppe Frosted Rainbow Cookie Sandwich Pop-Tarts
Price: $2.35
Size: 1 box of 8
Purchased at: Acme
Rating: 7 out of 10
Pros: Tastes good. Hearkening back to really unhealthy youth.  Saying the full name makes you feel like you’ve accomplished something.  Scrambled porn.  Talking smack to leprechauns.  Staring at box cheaper than buying drugs.  Can’t go wrong with cake.  Meeting word quota.
Cons: Wang surgery not cheap.  Scrambled porn actually 1979 4-H livestock semifinals.  Requires “toasting” device to unlock full potential.  Doesn’t taste like ice cream.  Hollow feeling at working the system.

REVIEW: Starbucks Artisan Bacon, Egg & Gouda Breakfast Sandwich

Drew 6 Comments

Starbucks Artisan Bacon, Egg & Gouda Breakfast Sandwich

As a non-coffee drinker, I’ve never had a particularly close relationship with Starbucks.  I know many of you reading this have connected with them in a deep, meaningful way I’ll never truly understand, like the bond between a man and his dog, or occasionally his wife.  I admire that, but there’s no reason for me to pay three dollars for a small hot chocolate when Swiss Miss is free at work.  (With OR without marshmallows!)  That being said, I don’t have anything against Starbucks, beyond the vaguely sinister-looking logo.  Their willingness to keep charging high prices in the midst of a massive recession was ballsy to the point of being almost endearing, and they really know how to tie a Barnes & Noble together.

So when they recently began offering Artisan breakfast sandwiches, I seized on it as a way to join the java junkies and really get the full Starbucks experience.  There are currently two varieties of sandwiches — I chose Bacon, Egg & Gouda because the soul is what makes it taste good, but those who claim dominion over plants but not yummy, yummy animals have their own option with Veggie, Egg, & Monterey Jack.  Vegans, sorry to say, are S.O.L.; apparently that’s a demographic Starbucks feels they can do without, at least until they roll out their Lentils, Gravel & Soy sandwich next quarter.  What makes it “Artisan” is the use of fresh ciabatta bread, which has the dual quality of being fun to say and automatically adding a dollar to the price.

All kidding aside, the bread IS good.  I would’ve been fine with just a biscuit because that’s the kind of low-brow guy I am, but it smells delicious and manages to be crispy but not hard on the outside and soft on the inside.  You may rest assured your barista isn’t just slapping some stale wonder bread left over from her kid’s lunch on your plate.  (Well, maybe yours is.  Perhaps you should consider tipping more than a buck every third visit, hmm?)  It’s also offset well by the bacon, which isn’t spilling out every side but still manages to seem pretty plentiful.  That’s key, because a common lament of food that aspires toward being more gourmet (even just a little) is that they tend to bolster the quality of the ingredients at the expense of quantity, with meat often being the first casualty.  You’re not going to feel like you’re eating a whole pig, but he’ll know you were there, by God.

Starbucks Artisan Bacon, Egg & Gouda Breakfast Sandwich Half

The cheese also comes through in a big way, partnering with the bacon to make your mouth salivate even as somewhere the Grim Reaper knocks another three pegs off your “Days ’till first heart attack” tally.  If any element is underrepresented, it would have to be the egg.  There’s nothing wrong with it, it just doesn’t pack nearly the smell or the taste of its more aggressive sandwich-mates.  And you can’t really blame this on Starbucks (okay, maybe the barista), but when I broke it in half, all of the bacon and most of the egg ended up on one side, which is kind of like having a rollicking threesome with Scarlett Johansson and Cloris Leachman — yes, technically it’s still a threesome, but you’re really better off just splitting the difference.

A final word of caution — the pictures make it hard to judge scale, but these are not massive sandwiches.  The bread is roughly five by five inches, so think of it more as a tasty mini-meal to help you power through a morning of inane coworker babble, rather than something that’s going to enable you to skip lunch.  (That’s what the schnapps in your lower left desk drawer is for.  Don’t worry, your boss doesn’t know.  Yet.)  If it were a little larger and a little cheaper I’d be able to recommend it even more highly, but as is, it’s still delicious.  Anyone used to paying Starbucks prices already probably won’t mind, but if you’re strictly a Dunkin’ Donuts kind of person, this is not the largest quantity of food you could get for your money.  Though from what I understand, pairing it with a 12-ounce coffee will net you a pretty good discount on both, so… yep, hosed again.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 sandwich – 350 calories, 18 grams of fat, 7 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 170 milligrams of cholesterol, 840 milligrams of sodium, 30 grams of carbohydrates, 0 grams of fiber, 1 gram of sugar and 17 grams of protein.)

Item: Starbucks Artisan Bacon, Egg & Gouda Breakfast Sandwich
Price: $3.45 ($3.95 w/ 12 oz. coffee)
Size: N/A
Purchased at: Starbucks
Rating: 8 out of 10
Pros: Non-coffee drinkers have a reason to visit Starbucks.  Enhancing Barnes & Nobles.  Sandwich options for both conscienceless murderers and hippie wimps.  Smells as good as it tastes.  Does not skimp on bacon.  Hiding booze at work.
Cons: Illuminati logo.  Vegans shafted again.  Damn well better be gourmet for what you’re paying.  Gross threesomes.  Only a full breakfast if you weigh 110 pounds.

REVIEW: Special K Multigrain Oats & Honey Cereal

Drew 5 Comments

Special K Multigrain Oats & Honey Cereal

I’m going to be honest, this may be the healthiest cereal I’ve ever eaten. As a rule, I eat breakfast cereals developed by dentists who could really use some help but don’t like asking for handouts. The least sugary cereal I’ve eaten in years is Honey Nut Cheerios, which is kind of like bragging that you only smoke two packs of filtered cigarettes a day. Hell, the product I reviewed for my TIB application was Post Marshmallow Pebbles; that cost me three teeth and my eyesight for about an hour, but it was worth it! Now here I am at the opposite end of the spectrum. I can only assume that Special K Multigrain Oats & Honey Cereal will resurrect my hairline, bestow 20/20 vision, and give me muscles in places I haven’t had them since college. Frankly, anything less will be a bigger disappointment than watching the edited-for-TV version of The Breakfast Club. (“Forget you! No dad, what about you?”)

The first thing I notice about Special K Multigrain Oats & Honey Cereal is that the box actually looks like something an adult might eat. There’s nary a spunky cartoon character or anthropomorphic animal to be found, and I’m kind of freaked out that the back of the box just has pictures of the ingredients and a dead-eyed model pretending to eat some while thinking, “It was this or underwear modeling in the Costco circular,” rather than a word search or jumble. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to hone my vocab skills while eating, but I guess that’s the choice you make — healthy or smart. One of the informative blurbs gives a good idea of the target audience by claiming that women who eat a cereal breakfast like this one weigh less, which just does wonders for my masculinity, let me tell you. When I go back to the store for another box, I think I’ll grab some yogurt smoothies and a package of Secret, which I understand to be made for women but strong enough for me.

Special K Multigrain Oats & Honey Cereal Closeup

Pouring some out in a bowl increases my confidence that, if I don’t actually LIKE this cereal, I’ll at least find it tolerable. I’m a little bummed that the flakes aren’t shaped like bats or C3PO faces or some shit, but I guess that wouldn’t do when you’re marketing yourself to people with “jobs” and “401Ks” and “relationships, as long as he keeps his hands off that tramp Jenny from Accounting.” Anyway, if the flakes look bland, they at least don’t appear actively offensive. There are also plenty of oats, and hey, oatmeal’s okay. Nobody ever said “Yippee, oatmeal!” if there wasn’t going to be brown sugar in it, but it’s pretty hard to work up any actual dislike for oats, in meal form or otherwise. The honey isn’t visible to the naked eye, but if it’s not in there, I promise you somebody’s getting a strongly worded letter on Monday.

Actually, for all my hesitance, Special K Multigrain Oats & Honey Cereal really doesn’t taste bad. Anyone who hasn’t been shoveling spoonfuls of cavity bombs into their maw for the last two decades is likely to find it within spitting distance of “good.” The taste is definitely more on the understated side — there’s only so much honey they can add to this stuff and still market it as “healthy” — but it beats dumping a handful of sugar on regular Cheerios, which is what I used to do as a kid (and now) when we’d run out of the good cereals. The honey flavor definitely comes through, as do the oats, and the flakes retain their crunchiness fairly well in milk. I can’t say this is what I’d choose every trip to the store, but as a compromise between teeth-rotting rapture and bland antiques like Wheaties or Shredded Wheat, you could do a lot worse.

(Nutrition Facts — 2/3 cup — 100 calories, 0.5 grams of fat, 0 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 140 milligrams of sodium, 70 milligrams of potassium, 25 grams of carbohydrates, 3 grams of dietary fiber, 8 grams of sugar, 14 grams of other carbohydrates, and 2 grams of protein.)

Item: Special K Multigrain Oats & Honey Cereal
Price: $3.69
Size: 13.6 ounces
Purchased at: Giant
Rating: 7 out of 10
Pros: Strong enough for a man. Helps me fit into skinny jeans. Feeling like an adult. Does not make my teeth weep. Fairly tasty.
Cons: Putting dentists out of business. No fun shapes. Made testicles shrink. Not improving vocab. Did not restore hair or vision. Edited-for-TV movies.

REVIEW: Rogue Santa’s Private Reserve Ale

Drew 5 Comments

Rogue Santa’s Private Reserve Ale

This probably says more about me than I’d like it to, but whenever I picture Santa, it’s as likely to be with a beer in his hand as a glass of milk (or Coca-Cola).  As in all things, I blame my upbringing — my parents, savvy operators that they were, convinced me early on that what Saint Nick could really use on Christmas Eve was something to take the edge off.  Over time this was phased out in favor of the more traditional milk, but there are home movies of me at about 2-3 years old, bringing out cookies and a glass of wine for Santa.  (Predictably, I spilled it on the carpet and, yes, I did try to pick the liquid up with my fingers.  I was not a smart child.)

Honestly, I’ve always pictured that right jolly old elf through more of a working class lens than I think most do.  The poor guy busts his ass all year long to meet the tightest delivery window on Earth, and as soon as he gets back home Christmas morning, no doubt all he wants is to take a load off in his favorite chair with a beer in one hand and the remote in the other.  Mrs. Claus does not get a lot of help around the house in January, is what I’m saying.

But what I didn’t realize until a couple of years ago is that Santa actually has a microbrewery at the North Pole.  It makes sense – you have to figure not every elf is cut out for crafting dolls and iPods, so the rowdier ones are put to work brewing Santa’s own personal ale, which he briefly makes available to the public every Christmas season.  Now that’s a man who has mastered the spirit of giving, as have I, so allow me to give you the low-down on a product that just might get you through the holidays in one piece.

Rogue Santa’s Private Reserve Ale 2Santa’s Private Reserve pours out a nice darkish red/copper color, exactly the hue you want in a winter beer.  (Summer beers must by law be golden yellow, of course.  Basically, summer beers should look like your pee when you’re really dehydrated, winter beers should look like you have kidney stones.)  I’m not usually one for smelling my drinks, but the aroma is pleasant, slightly citrusy.  I’m also not a beer snob, so I won’t bore you or myself by getting too technical; but it IS quite hoppy, which translates to bitterness. 

To me that’s a selling point, but be warned if wheat beers and Corona are more your style.  (College students will, of course, want to stick with Natty Light, as this is not a good beer for chugging out of a plastic cup with a ping pong ball in it.)  You’d normally expect a winter seasonal beer to have a lot of spices in it, but they’re understated if not nonexistent here, taking a back seat to more of a roasted caramel taste.  In terms of thickness, it’s about medium — certainly you’re not going to confuse it for Guinness, but don’t expect it to go down like your mother at a Molly Hatchet reunion tour either.

The ABV is 6.0 percent, pretty standard for a craft beer, although those of you who mainly drink light beers should be careful.  In my immediate post-college years I could have polished off three of these without feeling it, but these days more than one is enough to rosy my cheeks and merry my dimples.  That works in your favor, though, as Two-Drink Drew is 65 percent more likely to tell embarrassing family stories and use the word “ass” in reviews than Zero-Drink Drew.  (Both are preferable to Five-Drink Drew, who can’t figure out how to work a keyboard.)  And not that it should influence your purchasing decision, but the packaging is nice — simple artistic images of a cheerful Kris Kringle hoisting a tankard.  Skol!

I have no doubt there are better, far more knowledgeable beer drinkers than I who could describe this Christmas ale to you using terms like “mouthfeel” and “juniper” and “pretentious.”  I just know what I like, and I like this beer.  It’s bitter, it’s smooth, and it leaves you with a pleasing aftertaste long after you’ve finished drinking it.  Plus it makes you feel like you and Santa are old drinking buddies.

Sure, everyone gets presents, but you’re one of the privileged few the big guy allows to tap his personal stockpile.  It’s a special, manipulative marketing-driven feeling, and that’s something you can’t put a price tag on.  Or rather, you can, and it’s $11.59.  Not dirt cheap, but for a once-a-year treat, it’s worth it.

Item: Rogue Santa’s Private Reserve Ale
Price: $11.59
Size: 6 pack (12-ounce bottles)
Purchased at: Joe Canal’s
Rating: 8 out of 10
Pros: Stupid children.  Helps Santa recover from Christmas.  Good color.  Smooth and easy, like your sister.  Two-Drink Drew.  Tastes better than egg nog.
Cons: Bitter as an old man talking about today’s youth.  Not good for drinking games.  Misleading marketing – Santa doesn’t actually want to drink with me.  Not free, even if you make the “Nice” list.