This is a guest post from my brother, who has a range of amusing jobs, including juggling hats for money.
What Shit’s Worth, Volume One by Tom
As it happens, I am somewhat of a connoisseur of food bought from a petroleum dispensary. As a voracious consumer of both poor scheduling and a lack of preparedness (two of the key ingredients in a servo pie), I feel suitably educated to offer the best in choice and value for the hungry and cold late night employee.
From best to worst: SevLev’s ‘Munch’ range, especially the brief but delightful run of Lamb and Rosemary, but not discounting the Chicken and Mushroom pie for edibility. A suitable alternative title for the latter is ‘Paste with White Chunks’.
Special mention goes to the ‘Munch’ veggie roll for actually producing a mass produced baked good that tastes nice, is a decent alternative for the starved, half drunk vegetarian, and is pleasingly spiced with a healthy shot of pepper. Surprisingly edible.
Mrs. Macs rocks in a tough second for goopy richness and a delightfully rock hard crust that only improves with the addition of microwave cookery.
Four ‘n’ Twenty last for the audacity to claim that puree of testicles and organ meat compares to 24 whole roast blackbirds, beaks feathers ‘n’ all in taste.
In terms of health, I think we can all agree that wolfing down preserved meats in a commercial crust provides no nutrients of any kind, but keeps your protein levels high, staves off hunger, and adds a 50% stronger bouquet of awesome to your output.
Averaging at around $3-$5, depending on the particular clip joint you happen to be loitering nearby, shit is totally worth it.
What Shit’s Worth, Volume Two
I’m going to expand on an oft argued point of mine and decry the ever-present food that is the music festival pizza.
There are two types of festival pizza; the first being your standard McCain’s or similar frozen garbage heated up in a bain-marie. these aren’t worth commenting on, as you know well in advance what you’re gearing up for, and the results are always as expected.
No, my problem is a deep, deep river of discontent gushing towards the entity known as the gourmet pizza stand.
See the biggest beef I have with these is the whole argument of gourmet in the first place.
These vendors aren’t wise old Italian craftspeople, dedicated to perfecting the simple, though hard to perfect meal that is pizza. these are people who argue that a pizza with no toppings on it isn’t “Plain”, It’s now “Gourmet Margherita”. You know it’s gourmet because it has flecks of dried basil on it.
What pizzas there are that aren’t plain are a silent claim by the purveyors that they are fond of the Nullarbor plain, or the diets of the Spartans. If one treks across the surface of their pizza, after days spent without sustenance they might stumble across a stream of yoghurt drizzled across a sad looking piece of tandoori chicken.
I would be cool with this to the extent that all festival food tends to be overpriced, and not super worth it. I am also acutely aware of the huge amount vendors pay for overheads, site rental, and tithes to the festival management, but pizza? seriously? there’s got to be what, like a buck thirty-four spent on materials, and you’re charging me $10? It’s a slice. A Slice. I can’t emphasize that enough. and when it isn’t a slice, when they generously dump the whole whacking great pizza on your super absorbent serviette that sticks to the base and provides much needed roughage, it’s the size of a slice.
Shit ain’t worth it.
(Tom – you forgot that they also have to factor in the nine months necessary to produce a first-born-child for appeasing Festival Management. That drives up costs, man.)