The side order of garlic feta fries at Crave Mediterranean arrives as a massive mountain of potatoes that completely forces you to abandon your dignity. You cannot use your bare hands to eat this dish unless you want to spend the next 48 hours smelling like a garlic bulb. The kitchen dumps a heavy snowstorm of salty feta cheese and an aggressive payload of garlic sauce directly over a pile of crisp, perfect fries.

It is a blunt and beautiful strike of pure sodium and dairy. I am generally not a big fan of sauces on my food but this specific combination is phenomenal. My body immediately recognized the caloric danger and demanded I keep shoving it into my face anyway. The fries maintained an impressive structural integrity instead of turning into a wet soggy blob at the bottom of the container.

The portion size for around six dollars was considerable. I ended up packing the leftovers because leaving food behind goes against my core operating principles. Reheating fried potatoes in a kitchen microwave is a known crime against humanity that produces a texture not unlike a wet ball of crackers and though fries usually do pretty well in an air fryer, I did not know how these would fare.

I ultimately left them in my random animal bowl on the porch for the local herd of cats, random racoons, opossums or skunks to enjoy because those feral little creatures deserve some high quality garlic sauce in their mundane lives.

I like to think they are out there right now running around the neighborhood with incredible breath and newfound confidence.

I give the fries a solid 3.3 out of 5 for pure execution. How many of you out there actually attempt to reheat leftover fries at home?

To finish the meal I ordered a Turkish coffee to go because I constantly miss the authentic hot beverages from my time in Iraq, mostly their Chai but the coffee was good too. The fantastic server custom prepped the drink with cream and sugar. She handed the cup over and it was instantly clear that the liquid was the exact temperature of a melting nuclear reactor core. My skin began to fuse with the cardboard cup on contact.

I had to let the cup sit in the truck for a significant amount of time just waiting for the beverage to drop below third degree burn status.

Traditional Eastern European coffee leaves a thick layer of finely ground mud at the bottom of the cup. This specific brew contained a bizarre unidentifiable flavor note that confused the hell out of me, I did not hate it but I did not love it, the main reason I kept drinking it was mostly to try to figure out what the hell the taste was.

I spent the next two hours sipping the mystery drink and obsessing over the ingredients while we drove. Chris finally snapped from the drivers seat and snatched the cup out of my hand and tried it, just to make me shut up. He took a sip and his brain completely shorted out because he could not identify the flavor either.

I used to drink authentic coffee at a base restaurant called Mujdat’s in Mosul and this was an entirely different beast.

The nuclear coffee gets a 2.8 out of 5 for causing a minor psychological crisis.

Have you ever encountered a restaurant drink with a secret ingredient that drove you completely insane?

Updates:

I am rolling out to Poplar Bluff in a couple of days to visit my dad, and my primary objective is to hunt down some brand new culinary experiences while I am in town. I am highly invested in the hope that I can finally secure some lumpia and birria from Lucky Dragon Express.

Merging Filipino egg rolls with Mexican shredded beef under a single roof is the exact kind of beautiful, deeply chaotic global madness that makes a road trip worthwhile. Why should anyone limit their caloric intake to just one hemisphere when you can destroy your digestive tract internationally?

If your travels happen to take you to the Northeastern Kansas Beekeepers Association (NEKBA) Bee Funday on June 6, you will easily spot me standing around and slinging shirts for the masses.

For the people residing in the Saint Louis area on the 20th, I will also be stationed at the Missouri State Beekeepers Association MSBA MO Bee Day doing the same routine.

I love nothing more than talking shop with my fellow beekeepers and trying to absorb some genuine hive wisdom, but the tragic reality of being a vendor means I am permanently chained to the merchandise table while everyone else gets to enjoy the educational classes. Who decided that running a small business means you have to completely sacrifice your own personal enlightenment?

Books:

I finally blasted through Dungeon Crawler Carl book 8, and the entire experience was absolutely spectacular. For anyone who has managed to avoid this masterpiece, the narrative tracks a barefoot guy and a highly judgmental, sentient cat as they navigate a deadly alien game show that has consumed the entire planet.

The newest installment, Parade of Horribles, delivers a nonstop masterclass in cosmic violence and institutional insanity without giving away any spoilers to ruin the ride. Matt Dinniman needs to get off his dead ass and deliver book 9 immediately.

The previous book dropped 8 days ago, so what could possibly be the hold up? How much time does one author require to invent fresh ways to psychologically torture a man who just wanted to save his cat?

Upon surviving that ride, I dove straight back into the glorious absurdity of the Discount Dan series where I am currently tracking a little over halfway through book 2. The plot follows a protagonist who noclipped into the Backrooms, which is an endless, dimension hopping nightmare of carnivals, malls, and laundromats.

He is forced to barter, loot, and scavenge his way through a system that is essentially trying to keep him as a permanent resident of hell. It is a frantic, trade focused survival story that makes you wonder if the most valuable resource in the multiverse is actually just a quiet place to take a nap without being mauled by a dweller.

What incredible literary adventures are you currently utilizing to escape reality?

What should I choose to read next?