When I was a kid I was crazy about Creamsicles, though perhaps not quite as crazy as Flickr user Broken Piggy Bank who looks like a Creamsicle maniac. Oranges were my favorite fruit and I used to suck down so much OJ that my Dad took to rationing it out. Perhaps I turned to this classic frozen treat as a form of OJ replacement, though probably not. After all, what's not to like about cool orange sherbet enrobing a creamy vanilla ice cream core.

I haven't had a Creamsicle in more than 20 years, but lately I've become addicted to an old-school soda fountain treat that I'm certain is its great grandaddy. The orange freeze is a thick shake that 's infinitely more refreshing than a Creamsicle, if only because of the sheer volume. That ice-frosted shake cup is filled with another glass of creamy orange refreshment.

That's one tall glass of sparkling wine. Technically it's a Spumante glass, and it's the world's largest as recently certified by Guinness. The gargantuan glass was unveiled a few days ago in the city of Spoleto at a celebration of wine known as White Night.

It took 11 magnums (or a little more than 6 gallons) of Spumante to fill up the monster glass, which is 6.5 feet tall and 1.4 feet wide. Naturally they used Spumante Asti DOGG. I sure could of used 6 gallons of refreshing sparkling wine during the heat wave that engulfed New York City earlier this week.

Dolcevita posted a video of the authentication ceremony by a Guinness judge who flew in from London. It's 10 minutes long and entirely in Italian, so I chose not to post it here. It is kind of cool to watch them measuring the glass with stoic seriousness and then fiIling it. I speak fairly good Italian, but the only words I picked out were the emcee commanding silencio to the hordes of Italians cheering on a gigantic wine glass. Only in Italy.

[via Neatorama]

The first thing I thought when I read about the new project from British designer Kacper Hamilton was, "How many times has this guy seen the movie Se7en?" The second thing I thought was, "How the hell do you drink out of such funky glasses?"

Hamilton's "7 Deadly Glasses" is a set of bizarre red wine glasses based on the 7 Deadly Sins. The one representing sloth, the fourth sin, is pictured here. It's an especially apt design since someone has to turn the the valve at the bottom so the sinner can drink. The glasses representing the other sins seem much more difficult to drink from. I'm not sure if it's because these sins are considered deadlier or what. Take wrath; it's a glass that has a teardrop shape hollow cut out of the top. It looks impossible to drink out of without cutting one's face.

Hamilton says the glasses are "about celebrating passion and encouraging the user to be sinful in a theatrical passion." I can understand why he chose red over white to embody sinfulness. I suppose a set of white wine glasses would have revolved around a less punitive bit of Western culture, like the nine muses of Greek mythology.

[via BoingBoing]

Fruit has overtaken cookies as the most popular snack for children under the age of 6 according to a study from the NPD Group. Back in 1987, cookies held the top slot according to a similar study done by the market research firm. The study also found that kids are less likely to partake of carbonated soft drinks, ice cream, candy and cakes than they were 20 years ago.

Back when I was a lad, a bit more than 20 years ago, we kept soda in the house, but I didn't drink it all that often. I have fond memories of saving it as a summertime treat for ice cream sodas. I would enjoy these in a Coca-Cola logo glass. My folks usually bought C&C Cola, but my concoctions were usually pretty tasty anyway. I haven't thought about that in a long time. It's funny how childhood memories about food bubble up to the surface of my consciousness. I also used to make my own marshmallow sauce for homemade sundaes.

My own childhood taste in treats aside, it's a good thing that young children these days eat less pie, cake and ice cream than they did 20 years ago. The one thing that surprised me about the study is that milk has maintained its third-place slot since 1987.

I'm the first person to admit that my sports knowledge is infinitely less than my food knowledge. Hell, I didn't even know that Terrell Owens was a football player much less a Dallas Cowboy, until I read an article that said he received his signing bonus in the form of a giant tub of popcorn. The mammoth container took two people to carry.

If you're reading this and saying it can't possibly be true, you're right. T.O.'s actual signing bonus is a whopping $12.9 million. MJD the sports blogger who wrote the piece envisions a hilarious alternate scenario in which T.O. would be paid in $12.9 million worth of Dale and Thomas Popcorn. That works out to 1,003,331 million gallons of popcorn.

As I said, I'm no sports fan. I think all sport stars should get there actual salaries - not just bonuses - in popcorn, or better yet, peanuts.

I've never been able to afford Johnnie Walker Blue, though I am partial to the Black variety. Russians, though, seem to have no problem affording it. The land of vodka and harsh winters is now the biggest market for the world's priciest Scotch whisky according to the Financial Times.

Vodka still accounts for more than 90 per cent of the country's spirits sales, largely because Russians are not used to the taste of whisky or gin. Despite this barrier sales of costly libations have been rising largely due to the populations increased wealth.

Last year Russia became the first European country to import the "King George V" edition of Johnnie Walker Blue Label, which can go for up to $1,000. That's quite a markup over the everyday version, which sells for a mere $180 a bottle.

Even though it's been sold in Japan for more than 50 years, Coca-Cola has only just received trademark recognition for its iconic bottle. The elongated hourglass bottle became a registered U.S. trademark in 1960 and is honored by Russia and China, among other nations.

Coca-Cola began fighting for Japanese trademark registration of its "contour bottle" back in 2003. Other shapes associated with pop culture and American food, notably Kentucky Fried Chicken's Colonel Sanders, have won Japanese trademarks. What made the Coke case different is the fact that its bottle has no lettering whatsoever. In fact, it's the first bottle sans lettering to receive a trademark in that country.

For some reason this case begs the question: Is Sapporo's silver 22-ounce can a registered Japanese trademark? If not, it should be, I find the tapered can as evocative and iconic as Coca-Cola's classic bottle.

Starting this Thursday Burger King is extending hours at its U.S. locations into the wee hours, specifically 2 a.m. or later. Don't get too excited night owls; the late-night munchies friendly sked only runs from Thursday to Saturday. It makes me wonder whether BK's looking to compete with White Castle, long the late-night go-to meal for drunks and stoners alike. I can't remember the last time I ate at a Burger King. Sadly, I can remember the last time I ate at a White Castle.

Folks who are creeped out by the plastic-faced King will be glad to know that he's not the point man for this campaign. BK has appointed Sean "Diddy" Combs as its new late-night ambassador. I don't watch much television these days, but according to the press release the first TV spot, "Diddy's Way," has begun airing. I wonder if the commercial features an urban-contemporary take on the Burger King song. One thing's for sure. Since it's directed by Spike Lee, the content has got to better than the stuff on Diddy's BK-sponsored Youtube channel.

Ladies and gentlemen ... I've traveled over half of New York City's East Village slurping ramen noodles and broth. From Minca Ramen Factory to the city's first truly Japanese ramen-ya, Ramen Setagaya, to David Chang's self-professed "... crappy Pan-Asian ramen made for round-eyes," I have been on the front lines of New York City's so-called ramen wars. So ... ladies and gentlemen ... if I say I am a ramen man you will believe me.

As a ramen man I had been steadfastly waiting for the opening of the East Village outpost of Japan's Hakata Ippudo ever since reading about it on Rameniac. I longed to taste the much heralded soup of the Ramen King Shigemi Kawahara. Ladies and gentleman ... let me assure you it was worth the long wait for Ippudo NY to open. Upon my first visit I was so overcome by the springy noodles and the richness of the long-cooked pork-bone broth in the Shiromaru ramen that I was unable to take a photograph, lest I be separated from my first encounter with ramen ecstasy.

For a long time I have held a steadfast belief in a scientific principle called the Law of Culinary Equilibrium. It derives from Newton's Third Law, which states, "To every action there is an equal and opposite reaction."

I'm not sure where or when I first heard of the Law of Culinary Equilibrium. It's entirely possible that I made it up, er, discovered it. Origins aside, here's how it works: If I eat a horrible taco al pastor, one that is so bad as to be undeserving of the name and that should require the chef's compulsory deportation back to Puebla if that is in fact where the offending cook hails from, I must within 24 hours consume an exquisite taco al pastor. Bad Cubano, one that's not absolutely shatteringly thin, garlicky and filled with delicious roast pork and ham? Same deal. You get the idea. I've found that practicing the Law of Culinary Equilibrium not only restores order to the gastronomic universe, it restores my faith in humankind. That and it greatly reduces my urge to hurl a cinderblock through the window of the offending establishment.

Of course some might wonder how a veteran eater like me encounters a bad meal. To this I answer that since I often write about food in New York City I'm charged with a Star Trek-like mission: "To boldly eat where no man has eaten before." As much I'd like to stick to my favorite taquerias and dim sum joints, I simply can't, if only because the next great discovery often lies behind a new storefront.

Sometimes though, a bad meal stems from my own equally bad judgment. The other day I decided to check out a place in my neighborhood of Rego Park, Queens. I shall refer to it as Crunchy Earth Mother Café, if only because it's been open a scant three weeks and I wish the management no ill will. I truly don't what I was expecting when I ordered what the earth-toned menu refers to as "a falafel panini." After all I know what a falafel is and I know what paninis are. Perhaps, I hoped it would turn out to be something far greater than the sum of its parts.

As many of you may know, I'm a complete sucker for bizarre Japanese snack foods and their equally bizarre packaging. Take Gorira no hanakuso, a bean-based treat whose mascot is a cartoon gorilla. But until the other day I'd never encountered a Japanese snack designed to mimic pet food.

Despite what the package indicates, Hamster's Lunch is not a meal for your furry friends, but rather a rice cracker. Each morsel is shaped like a sunflower seed, which a Japanese web site points out "is Hamster's favorite food." The site also contains these valuable words to the wise: " Attention: Please do not provide real hamsters with Himatane."

It makes no such warning about trying to feed said Himatane to any of the dozen cute hamster figurines contained in each package of Hamster's Lunch. Apparently this faux hamster chow has developed such a following online that one purveyor has run out. And just when I was about to complete my miniature hamster army with that twelfth figurine.
[via Boing Boing]

After many years of reading fortune cookie messages that are not so much predictions as truisms, such as "Ideas are like children; there are none so wonderful as your own," many dismiss them entirely. To counteract this boredom with fortune cookies edgy, depressing messages have begun cropping up.

But there are still fortune cookie romantics who save their favorite little scrolls. I count myself among them. When I stand in front of the fridge at 2 a.m. eating roast beef with my bare hands I close the door and take comfort in reading, "Believe in your abilities, confidence will lead you on."

And then there's Bob Bjarke. Not content to post his favorite fortune cookie message on his fridge or elsewhere, he created The Best Fortune Cookie Ever. What could motivate someone to throw up a one-page tribute to a fortune cookie? Perhaps Bjarke is a frustrated would-be astronaut with plans on living into the 2100's and takes solace in the fact that there's a chance he might still be able to snag that Earth-view villa. The only thing I know for certain is that he found his favorite fortune at Chicago's Papajin. I'd love to know what the Jennifer 8.Lee, author of The Fortune Cookie Chronicles makes of this.
[via SFoodie]

I've never really used an egg cup. To me it's almost as bizarre a kitchen accessory as the bygone ice cream fork. Apparently there are folks out there who feel differently about egg cups. Witness the military-themed egg cup I ran across the other night.

It's available online from Boys to Men, a site that sells everything from a brain-shaped mouse to a memory stick designed to look like a twig. My guess is that it's designed to tap into nostalgia for green army men. Personally I'd like to see a few of the minesweeper guys surrounding the egg.

I'm not sure how many people are going to pony up $21.99 for this unique piece of tableware, but it's certainly worth visiting Boys to Men if only to read the catalog copy. "They are working hard to protect the egg but one after another, the bread soldiers just keep coming. How will it end?" Oh, the humanity!

[via Boing Boing]

As far as I'm concerned, my home borough of Queens is the food capital of New York City, Manhattan be damned. Well, that's not entirely true, but with the exception of Japanese, Queens is the best place in the city to find authentic Asian cuisine ranging from Nepalese and South Indian to Northern Chinese and Korean. Lately I've been asking my Korean dry cleaner for restaurant recommendations. When I dropped off some pants Saturday afternoon and told him that I had a bit too much to drink the prior night, he said I should head over to a spot in Flushing called Budnamujip for a steaming hot bowl of sahm-gyae tahng. He assured me that the ginseng-infused chicken soup would help sweat out my hangover and make me "strong." No doubt this was a backhanded reference to ginseng's reputed effect on male virility.

When I arrived at Budnamujip it was filled with noisy revelers who were well into their cups and would probably be finding themselves in need of some sahm-gyae tahng the next day. When the waitress brought over the bowl it was still boiling. It soon became clear this was no mere chicken and ginseng soup. For one thing, it contained an entire young chicken. The cavity was filled with rice and all sorts of other goodies. The first sip of the blazing hot broth was a tad bland, though this was readily fixed with a few shakes of pepper and a bit of coarse sea salt. As I dug in all sorts of treasures emerged: whole jujubes, or dae chu; bits of chestnut; several cloves of garlic; and a piece of ginseng. By the time I finished picking the chicken clean skin and all and slurping up every last bit of broth, I felt like a new man. So new that I had paranormal abilities and clearly envisioned an article on sahm-gyae tahng's restorative powers by Elaine "One Pot" Louie.

When I asked a gent at the next table whether sahm-gyae tahng, was good for curing hangovers he nodded and laughed. Then he held out his arm with his fist raised in the air and said "makes you strong." If you'd like to try making your own sahm-gyae tahng, here's a great recipe.

Ever since discovering The Ernie Kovacs Show on video, I've been a fan of this 1950s comedic genius who Jack Lemmon characterized as "always 15 years ahead of everyone else." Thanks to poking around YouTube last night I learned that he was ahead of his time in other ways. The chicken puppetry set to music that leads off the brilliant Kitchen Symphony predates Peter Gabriel's Sledgehammer video by more than 20 years. Granted Gabriel's chicken was raw and danced to decidedly funkier music.

Kovacs' roasted chicken sets the stage for a musical meal in which every item in the kitchen, including water taps, sardines, cutlery and egg slicer dance to a lounge lizard rendition of Cherokee by Juan Esquivel. Vegetarians may wish to turn away during the explosive salad sequence.