Happy Birthday, Mac Daddy

It was with great excitement this week that I read that today, April 15, is the 50th anniversary of the founding of McDonald's. I'm always up for a celebration, and one involving the world's largest purveyor of junk food has all the earmarks of a must-attend.

You see, I have a dark secret -- one that I feel I can share with the 2 million-plus of you out there who visit the Food section each month: I get McNugget cravings.

That's right. I'll be sitting there eating a rice cake and contemplating whether I want to make steamed broccoli or roasted baby carrots to go with my chicken breast in fat-free sour cream sauce for dinner, and out of nowhere I'm struck. In minutes, I'm clawing for my wallet and car keys and seeking out the nearest drive-through to indulge my craving for vaguely chickenlike bits of fried wonderfulness dunked in tiny plastic tubs of sauces which have colors found nowhere else in nature.

I like the boot-shaped ones the best. You can get a half-tub of honey mustard in that elbow if you hook it into the container just right.

Twenty McNuggets and a large order of fries later, I'm sated -- unless the apple pies are two for $1. In that case, dessert is in order, too. Like a werewolf at sunrise, I return to my normal self ... except I'm not naked. Well, there was that one time, but it was Mardi Gras and the charges were dropped.

In any case, whatever mind-control agent the McDonald's folks put in their fryer oil, I'm susceptible. When they turn their craving transmitter to "McNugget," I fall in line with the other zombies and trot out to the drive-through.

But seriously, though: For all the bad press (justified or not) McDonald's has garnered, you've got to admire the operation. You can walk under the golden arches anywhere in the world, and the Big Mac you come out with will taste like the one you got back home the last time the craving generator kicked in. I remember, back in high school, greeting the news that the McD's in Paris served wine with the sort of thrill once reserved for finding lost cities or new planets. It was somehow exotic, this idea of washing down my Quarter Pounder with a plastic cup of wine of undoubtedly questionable vintage.

It can even be said that McDonald's had a hand in the end of communism. Do you think the folks who busted down the wall and stormed through a vacated Checkpoint Charlie were looking for books on how to start a democracy? Not a chance. They were hungering for Levis and Happy Meals.

So, confess to me, my loyal friends: What dark fast-food cravings lurk within your soul? Beneath that outer health-nut façde, what twisted junk-food urges lurk? Tell me and maybe we can all share and heal. Or at least get a few chuckles.

And now, a couple of new products you might need to know about:

Pie In A Bottle

I get a lot of requests to do product tests, and to be honest by now some of it has grown a bit wearying. But I'm always up for a new item, or a fresh slant on an existing one.

So, when Ken Weikel wrote wanting to send me some of his product, Pie In A Bottle, I was receptive. I love pie in just about all its forms, and anything that promises to make the time between wanting a pie and having one shorter is worth a try.

But I was also dubious. I've tried my share of "quick and easy" helpers, and the adjective most of them are missing is "inedible." Certain things take a long time for a good reason.

The box arrived with only two bottles of the product, so I knew I'd have to make my first try count. I got out a frozen pie shell (if you're truly doing pie-in-a-hurry, it's not a mortal sin) and my ingredients. The mix requires the addition of two eggs and whatever fixings you care to add. In this case, I used one cup of fresh pecan halves and a half-cup of Ghirardelli chocolate chips.

I did have a bit of difficulty getting the mixture out of the bottle (actually a jar). It is very thick and waiting for it to come out reminded me of watching glaciers. However, a quick sojourn in the microwave got things moving. I recommend about 20 seconds. You don't want the mixture too hot (This tip is not included on the current packaging.).

I mixed the eggs in and poured the whole shebang over the chips and nuts in my pie shell and put it in a 350° F. oven for 35 minutes, per package directions.

NOTE: Use a standard pie shell, not a deep-dish.

The pie that came out looked perfect, and after a short cooling interval my first taste confirmed that observation. Here was a perfectly fantastic chocolate-pecan pie! In less time than it usually takes me to measure out the ingredients, I had had the pie ready to cook, and there was no discernible decrease in quality between this one and my homemade version.

A second attempt, making a straight pecan version, was equally impressive. I'm going to hit Ken up for a few more bottles and see how many folks I can fool during the next holiday time.

If you'd like to get hold of some of this stuff for yourself, just click here.

Datil Dew

One thing I test a LOT is hot sauces. This is partly because I love them dearly, and partly because they are one of the most widely sold items on the Internet. There are more hot sauce-selling sites than I can count, each with its own "ultimate" sauce.

I had already heard of the Datil Dew sauces before I heard from the makers, and when the samples arrived I was ready with my plate full of saltine crackers to taste them.

Then a bizarre thing happened. The sauces were so good that I began to ransack my fridge and pantry in search of other things to use them on. Each sauce has its own character, and there's not a bad one in the bunch. I think my favorite combination was the Burgundy Mustard sauce (#8 heat) with a colossal smoked oyster on a Club cracker. My tastebuds died and went to heaven.

I took some lifeless leftover shredded pork barbecue and hit it with a generous dollop of the Meat Mate sauce. The result has me now scanning the paper for the next time pork loins come on sale.

Even the Inferno sauce, which occupies the place on the Datil menu that most hot-sauce makers reserve for their rankest, most mouth-abusing selections, is a sublime chorus of flavors. Sure, it's hot. That's beside the point. It's also flat-out delicious. All of them are.

Their prices are very reasonable, also. I've seen plenty of hot sauce makers who think their stuff is more precious than plutonium, and charge accordingly. The Datil Dew sauces are better than most of them, and cost a quarter as much.

Want some? Click here to order.

Got a question? A comment? A topic you'd like to see covered? Drop me a line anytime!