Category Archives: Great Philosophical Debates

I’ll be Gainin’ from Gannon’s

Something magical happened yesterday.  Liz and I spent a hefty chunk of time at the gym (not so magical), so after walking up our nearly 90-degree-angle hill to our apartment, we resided to the porch to debate who emitted the stinkiest post workout stank.  After some friendly debate on this pressing topic, we made dinner and continued to stink up the porch.  Around 7, with my t-shirt still soaked through with sweat, I suggested we venture on a field trip for ice cream.

Now as a budding nutrition ace, I can contend that ice cream houses the proper combination of amino acids and carbohydrates that are imperative to muscle tissue repair following a hard workout (THIS IS A LIE).  I wish it worked that way.  Moral of the story is, we wanted — needed — some i.c.

Here’s the issue with Syracuse.  There are virtually no ice cream shops — I’m going to go out on a limb and say its because of the excessive amount of snow we get.  There’s good ‘ole Friendly (the one in we have here has no apostrophe “S”) a few miles away, but we were up for something new.

Here’s a shoddy nighttime shot of our neighborhood Friendly from last year:

How bizarre.

After discussing Syracuse icons in my mag class last week, I suggested we try Gannon’s– a Syracuse icon we’d both yet to try.

We hopped into Liz’s jeep, proceeded to roll down every window to the brim, due to the state of our odorous bodies, and wafted our stank down the streets of Syracuse.  Once there, the two of us made a huge scene over the board of flavors.  HUGE.  We screamed flavor names back and forth to one another and asked multiple employees what their favorites were — we get a little crazy when it comes to food decision making.  Plus we stank.

Bar none, this was the biggest decision of my weekend.

I opted for “pretzel logic” — chocolate ice cream with peanut butter swirls and chocolate-coated, peanut-butter filled pretzels.  When the Gannon’s scooper gave me the run-down on pretzel logic’s make up, I’m certain I gave her a solid valley-girl “Shut UP!” and ordered a scoop.

It was divine.  Really.  I wish I took a picture, but we ran for the car with lightning speed when we solidified our ice cream plans.  Normally I’m not a huge chocolate ice cream fan (I’d rather have a neutral base with chocolate fudge, or swirls or chunks mixed in), but this chocolate base was arguably the best I’ve ever had.  And I’m also big on texture variance.  When it comes to oatmeal or ice cream or … well nearly anything, I die over a well executed mix of smooth and crunchy.  Pretzel logic hit a homer on this one.  The peanut butter swirl perfectly enveloped the coated chunks of pretzel, with their crispy outer shells and tender peanut butter innards, all nestled into the creamiest-dreamiest chocolate ice cream.  I have to go back again.  Hopefully Gannon’s will be further incentive for my sister to come visit since she sweats ice cream.

Flavors I’m dreaming of trying —

snickers cheesecake, ‘cuse tracks, charlie brown (I’ll have to ask about this one, but the mystery and intrigue are getting to me), almond joy and chocolate bavarian torte.  I wouldn’t say no to trying each and every one, though.

I was also impressed by their range of options — lactose free, gluten free (even gluten free cones), sugar free, soft, hard, milk shakes, sundaes, sherbets, non-fat, and yogurts.

Hopefully there will be an outlandish number of updates on this post.

And one last thing to share with you.  What is this all about?

This morning, upon raising the blinds I saw THIS.  Not even four feet from my bedroom window sits a box full of pretzels, pumpernickel bagel chips and chex squares.  Usually I can generate a rational explanation for questionable occurrences… but this one has left me baffled.  Is this some sort of new-age litter box?  Is it a snack for the lawn guy?  Is someone trying to lure small creatures to my window?  More on this when I find some answers.

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Can’t Say That I agree, PS Readers…

Favorite Food at the NYS Fair

In other news…. The Food Network’s Marc Summers (from Unwrapped) was on an old taping of the View this morning chatting it up about state-fair food.  It was kind of nauseating to watch at the gym, but I wish the NYS fair had the fried caramel apple bites Mr. Summers couldn’t stop talking about.


The great cheese/ chocolate debate

Cheese or Chocolate.  It’s killing me.

Tonight, while my roommate Liz whipped up her famous baked mac ‘n cheese, I nibbled on twelve too many dove chocolate squares.  Naturally I inquired, if the world simply had to be sans chocolate or sans cheese and you had your choice, which would it be — cheese…. or chocolate?

Then there we were, discussing the intricacies of two of the most sacred (just me?) food items … ever.  If chocolate just up and went extinct on us (I would probably have to rip off all of my limbs in sheer distress) then so too would chocolate fondue, nutella, mousse, syrup, pie, cake, fudge, eclairs, brownies, and chocolate covered strawberries.  And what in god’s name would I do about my godiva rewards club membership???  NO GODIVA!? What about future Willy Wonka remakes?  Would there be no Augustus-falls-into-chocolate-river scene?  It would be awful.

But cheese…. ooey, gooey, silky cheese.  A cheese-less existence would imply no cheese pizza, quesadillas, fondue (at least there would be chocolate fondue), macaroni and cheese, grilled cheese, mozzarella sticks, and that ungodly queso skillet perfection from Chili’s. Plus, cheese makes everything better on a George Foreman.  Solely talking logistics, cheese allows for sandwich and panini fixings to stay where they’re supposed to.

I’m torn.  Just like my girl Natalie Imbruglia.  Sing it girl.

Say it ain’t so!


“Foodie”

Foodie.  This summer, amidst the countless philosophical debates (over reality television, pie vs. cake and jorts) my coworkers and I tackled the term “foodie.”  Up until said fateful day, surrounded by stinky sweaty children at our local bowling alley (prestigious job title: camp counselor) I dutifully considered myself a foodie — a food aficionado… i.e. those freaks that photograph their food and describe every mouthful with disgusting, elaborate detail.

The urban dictionary tells me a foodie is “a person that spends a keen amount of attention and energy on knowing the ingredients of food, the proper preparation of food, and finds great enjoyment in top-notch ingredients and exemplary preparation.”  There I am! The UD also tells me a foodie is a supposedly less elitist term for “gastronome” and “epicure.”

Alright I get it, food is food… everyone eats it, it’s a necessary facet of life.  This brings me to one of the most stagnant assertions of our summer conversation — “Foodie?” coworker A stammered.  “Saying you’re a foodie is like saying you’re a ‘breathie.’ Everyone breathes and everyone eats.” …. dramatically drawn out silence.  As a glaringly obvious lover all things food, I verbally assaulted his “breathie” ideology and pressed on defending my passion for food.  This leaves me with my own fairly bold notion — food ignorance.  In this case I’d say my coworker had a serious case of F.I.  — to him, food equals an imperative means to sustain life, and may just so happen to induce a pleasurable dining experience.  For me, and presumably other foodies in the blogosphere, food is so much more.

Just as I admittedly have sports ignorance and can never truly fathom the intensity and steadfastness of sports fanaticism, my coworker of four years couldn’t quite grasp my need to scour online menus to make sure I pick the right restaurant and the right dish, my possibly unhealthy enjoyment of grocery shopping, my love of trying others’ meals (however etiquette-breaching it may be to eat off of someone’s plate other than your own… sorry Grandma), and my incessant foodgawking.

I mean hey, if hours of foodgawking doesn’t translate as food fanaticism, I don’t know what does.  Foodies unite.


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