Archives for the month of: December, 2011

A mighty wind... Oh!

Sometimes you find great cleaning products in the kitchen, and sometimes they find you.  More often than not, cleaning products come from the same company, offering an array of various cleansers, degreasers, hand soaps, etc.  Sometimes when whom ever is in charge of ordering fails to order something correctly, somebody gets to go shopping.  Though I’m at a loss as to how this ended up in our kitchen, because there isn’t exactly a whole lot of glass to clean.

Most glassware gets run through a sanitizer, a large machine capable of cleaning and sanitizing a hefty amount of glassware at once.  Typically most food service employees aren’t allowed to drink from said glassware, mainly to avoid contamination due to spillage, or even worse, having a glass (or plate) smash into pieces, sending little bits of glass into the food in the prep stations.  Then one gets to throw out a whole lot of food.  Having a guest bite down on a shard of glass is not good for the reputation of the establishment.

To the person that came up with this product’s name, I salute you.  Brilliant play on window, and wind oh! that oh! for oh! my god, this name is awesome.  I would probably buy this product due solely for the name, regardless of how this cleaner performs, because I’m just that kind of person.

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Like frisbee, these lemons are ultimate.

There ain’t no messing with these lemons.  They are the last, the maximum, the ultimate.  Lemons.  Much like the sport of ultimate frisbee.  There are few, if any, things that can top this.

Actually I’ve only played ultimate frisbee once or twice, if I can remember correctly.  I wasn’t that into it.

But I do like the design work here.  The ribbon background is a nice touch.  The lemon looks damn fine, graphically presented in a straightforward manner with subtle touches of texture.  The flower brings it on home, which at first I thought was just decoration, but actually lemon trees do produce a blossom.  I learn something new everyday.

I also like the simple color scheme.  Green and yellow, perfect for lemons (or limons, if you’re a Sprite fan).  I also like the incorporation of the neutral cardboard color in the background of the piece.  Using what’s there, or not actually there, and creating something out of nothing.

Yep.  Definitely a buy.

The onion and its natural predator.

I think I’m learning things about onions I never knew, at least in terms of how various packagers portray their product.  For one, location.  I’m finally actually thinking about where various vegetables come from.  Given certain stereotypes I learned growing up, one might suspect that Idaho merely grows potatoes.  But alas, Idaho seems rife with onion production.  Good job, Idaho, for breaking through some boundaries.

Also, that eagles want something to do with onions.  I’m assuming that something does not bode well for the onion.  The eagle represented here seems to have that poor onion in a grip with its talons, and given the way the head is bent down, as if going in for some pecking.  I typically thought eagles were birds of prey, (according to popular folklore) but hey, maybe when pickings are slim, they go vegetarian.  Onions would not be my first choice, though.

Then again, we may be going for some national pride connection.  And who doesn’t like, LOVE America?  Communists, that’s who.  But the yellow mountains and red sun do kind of throw me off a little.  Are we on planet Krypton?  Or perhaps its a representation of Jupiter, as the lines in the sphere kind of make a little red spot, like the great red storm on Jupiter.  I’m reaching here, I know.  Sometimes I try to take these images too literally.  I just sometimes find myself wanting to know why, and what the artist was thinking.  Curiosity, that’s all.

Some days I think about the afterlife.  I’m hoping there is one.  And that it’s a sweet one.  For example, I hope there’s a series of giant rooms like galleries, where you can wander around and see how much stuff you produced in life.  I really want to know, when my life is said and done, just how many onions I’ve cut up.  And in the gallery will be a massive mound of onions, all the onions I’ve touched, so I can see just how many that is. Or how much ketchup I’ve consumed, in a large vat.  Or beer, etc.  I think that would be awesome.

 

 

Jumping and clicking your heels over bacon.

Not feeling the witty this week.  Also have been in a sort of slump with new produce producing exciting culinary art finds, so today we’re going with the tried and true imagery of modern man’s depiction of bacon in the work place, specifically found on our kitchen’s mop bucket.

Though I’m hard pressed to figure out exactly why the mop bucket in the kitchen would be chosen as a prime spot for the depiction of bacon.  I would not eat bacon from a mop bucket, unless absolutely desperate, or it was the last bacon on Earth.  Hell, I try my damnedest to not even go near the mop bucket, much less touch it, or use it.

Alas, let’s face it, if there is something that can be universally understood across many cultures, languages and divides, it’s bacon.  At first I thought the little figure was somehow falling into bacon.  Was this a warning?  I cannot possible see how falling into bacon would be a horrible thing, unless you were a vegetarian, or if the bacon was still blazing hot (that grease can burn!).  Or perhaps the act of falling into bacon might somehow soil the bacon, possibly rendering it inedible (doubtful.)  At most, the bacon might soil the clothes you were wearing.

But then it dawned on me that the little figure is extremely overjoyed, resulting in a jump complete with clicking heels, and arm outstretched as a victory salute.  Hell, yes!  We’ve got bacon.  Especially three large slabs of bacon, compared to the figure’s body size.  That’s some mighty bacon right there, folks.  I’d be jumping for joy, too!  Though not necessarily over the top of the bacon ( I might land on it.)

Still, I think I’m on to something here.

 

 

"Aaaaannnd in this corner, the returning... ah, I'm not sure what you are."

Something about this guy alarms me.  I probably would not like to meet this fellow in a dark alleyway.  Not that I spend much time in dark alleyways, nor would like to meet several people in a dark alleyway.  I do not think they are conducive to the friend making process.   I don’t think it’s his enlarged torso/head with no neck that I find unappealing.  Or perhaps he merely is a giant head with arms.  It’s the smile attached to the face that I find off putting the most.  I imagine his smile to be in a permanent grin, mouth always open, maybe a result of years spent getting pummeled in the ring.  Also, his eyes almost appear feminine, or more like something from a Japanese anime.  Although I do imagine his voice to be oddly, high pitched, yet soft, which is also kind of unsettling to my imagination.

Coming up in this blog will explore the concepts of pride, that many companies associate their produce with ‘pride.’  And there’s nothing wrong with that.  Competitively speaking, one should promote the product with a positive sense.  The positive message here, being that these potatoes beat the other brands.  They are the champions, they have fought the tough battle, and have triumphed.  Of course you should buy produce from the winner.

I’ll admit I’ve never been fond of sports, especially boxing.  I’ve also never been particularly fond of fighting in general.  While that type of aggression is usually attributed to males, as a male, I just don’t get those urges.  Sure, I’ve wanted to punch people at times, mainly annoying, douchebags, but typically I’ve been able to refrain from acting on those urges.  Except for that one time in sixth grade.  But Tony R., I’m sorry, you deserved it.  That hail mary pass I caught on the playground was magnificent, and since it was pretty much the only touchdown I scored on the playground field, I felt a little celebration was in order.  You didn’t have to push me around.  And then I hit you.  Hard.  In the eye.

But I digress.  I get sad when I think of professional boxers, and I’m not sure if I would personally choose to use a boxer to represent my product. All those years spent training, honing their bodies, only to be dealt blow after blow to the head, with subsequent brain injuries and decreased mental capacities to follow.  I mean, have you seen what happens to them?  Maybe I’m looking too deep into this one.

"My friends, you bow to no one..."

The king is dead.  Long live the king!  Or so the saying goes.  But behold, in his magnificence, the king of yams.  This guy really reminds of something out of a Jim Henson movie.  I can almost hear the high, squeaky regal voice, referring to himself in the royal “we.”  Although I do have to question his lack of legs.  Not because yams possess legs, as they don’t, although sometimes we may stumble upon a slightly deformed sweet potato, but because if you focus on the picture, and imagine how thrones have a space for one’s buttocks, you’ll realize this cajun king is sort of propping himself up via the armrests and his trusty, royal scepter.  His “body” is not in a seated position at all.  And not to play too much on the maleness here (as the gendering lines up on this one), as obviously a king is usually male, and he does have a stately goatee, but his head is vaguely penis shaped.

Still, “It is the fool’s prerogative to point out that the emperor wears no clothes, but the emperor remains the emperor and the fool remains the fool.”  He’s royalty.  I’m not.  I wish I had a bitchin’ cape and crown.  Surprised he has no elegant rings, though.