Shut Up and Write About Food!

What an ass.

2012-01-30T09:22:00.000-08:00

".....they bring an actual crepe cart to event locations, and make the thin pancakes on the spot, just like on a rue de Paris."

"rue de Paris"???
You are an asshole.

To Tom.....

2012-01-29T10:54:00.000-08:00

You are not smart
You are not clever
You are not worldly

You just plagiarize from the Internet

2012-01-27T13:24:00.000-08:00

"The only thing I dislike about the plate is the fried noodles, a plague that also gets in the way of the otherwise-magnificent seared tuna salad. But those are easily ignored"

Then WHY did you bring it up???

"We stayed for the first half of the game, a playoff between the Whoozits and the Didn't Catch Its. Mary Ann kept giving analyses of the plays throughout, but it was lost on me."

Which explains your lack of manhood.

"At home I repaired a flat tire on MA's bicycle. While I was at it, I pumped up my car's tires."

Yeah, right.
The only thing pumped up is your over-inflated ego.

"I told her that since I am a past recipient of the Max Zander Award, I can do anything I want at Max dinners going forward, including waiting until the last minute to book."

HAHAHA. Always feeling the desperate desire to ring your own bell.

"Enough people wanted to dine with me......"

HAHAHA! Another desperate desire for acceptance!

"Pelican Publishing Company, which handles our Lost Restaurants book, has sold out the entire oversize first press run, and is out of stock until the new printing arrives from China. I guess we showed them."

Self back-patting is the first sign of a desperate need for approval.

I could go on, but beating a dead horse is redundant.

2012-01-27T04:51:00.000-08:00

"But never mind. I went into my second glass of wine--Zichichi Cabernet--to balance off the fromage ordinaire."

Oh, I apologize for EVER calling you pompous.

Oysters

2012-01-26T12:13:00.001-08:00

"I met a lot of new friends who know me from the radio show. Many are in the oyster business. They had chilling news. "There are no baby oysters in the beds that were killed by fresh water after the oil spill," one of them told me. He should know. He gets his oysters from that area. "Nobody can figure out why they are not coming back. They won't grow on the old shells. We have to dump concrete to get any of them to grow."

Well, perhaps they should act like nothing happened!

Odors

2012-01-25T12:42:00.000-08:00

"I'm not accusing Nick of exuding a bad odor. All chefs are surrounded by an aura of aromas while they're working. It's the smell of the kitchen, and it comes with the territory."

So do you smell the aroma of asshole wherever you go?
One exudes what one is, after all, n'est ce pas?

Did I mention that I AM elite?????

2012-01-24T04:20:00.000-08:00

Have I ever mentioned that my gay son attended Georgetown Prep?
And Christian Brothers?
And that I attended Jesuit? (I know, I know, what a secret).
And that my daughter attends Tulane?
And that I ALWAYS wear a jacket and tie?
Even while pooping?
And my wife likes to sexually abuse me with a fine Japanese roiling pin? (bought from Williams-Sonoma! Delivered by a handsome young lad with green eyes and.....well, never mind). She really DOES swing the dick in this household. Makes mine look like a Jelly-Belly.
And that restaurant patrons just LOVE when I sing?
Oh yes! I am a lucky feller!

I AM a man

2012-01-23T12:57:00.000-08:00

Tom here--
I love the New Orleans Angels!
I loved when they won the SuperDuper!
I used to play baseball, and loved the field goals!
Nothing like hangin' with the guys, eatin' dogs, and watching the kickpunter slam home a strike!
I was making chargrilled oysters.
Those bivalves were perfect, awash in an isotope of butter, with a substrate of garlic and parsley. amid a matrix of parmasan.
Oh look!
There goes Archie Tarkington running for a home run!

What is the difference between God & Tom Fitzmorris?

2012-01-23T09:10:00.001-08:00

Why, God doesn't think he's Tom.

Dweeb City IV

2011-12-04T05:37:00.001-08:00

Saturday morning.

The bell...ringing......his body being stroked...being seduced by teacher..oh, yessssss..."Baby? It's time......"

Opening his eyes-------Oh My God! It's Mommy! Rubbing his back to awaken him for breakfast!

Covering his pup tent, and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he meanders to the bathroom. Dropping the hindside flap of his Dino Flintstone pajamas, he releases the exact same material he will many years later proffer as wisdom.

Changing out of his sleepwear, he heads to the kitchen, hoping to avoid his father, who will expect him to perform manly duties--grass cutting, oil changing, gutter cleaning--all that stupid uncouth stuff!

Mom has at the ready-

Flour
Crisco
Buttermilk...

...and a loving smile, because no matter how these biscuits turn out, they WILL be exquisite! Because he gets to make them! Her Boy!

Our boy adjusts his tie, no ascot today--it's Saturday!, and fine tunes the oven temperature, mixing the ingredients--not too much! No, no, no--Too smooth will result in a rubbery product! There, now, that's just right. Now the cookie sheet--placed perfectly in the center of the oven, where the heat is perfectly even.

Honey, did you set the timer?

Why, yes, Mother, I did.

Isn't this fun?

Why yes. Yes, it is. It is indeed!

Dad mumbles something about taking care of the chores himself, heads outside, and our boy, again, gets the girl! Boy beams at Mommy...

The other boys in the neighborhood are all gathering to build a tree-house in the woods, but "The Sound of Music" is playing at the theater, and our boy can't wait for it!

His shorts are sharply creased, and he carefully chooses his knee socks to match his suspenders; his tie and pocket hankie are equally matched.

At the concession stand, he orders JuJuBees and a Nesbitt's, wishing that Orange Julius'(or at least ICEE's!) were served...

Sitting in the dark theater alone, he weeps at "Edelweiss", and admires the Count's attire.

Arriving home, he spies his Dad helping the other boys put the finishing touches on their tree-house. They're all laughing and clearly pleased with their accomplishment. His Dad never does that sort of stuff with HIM.

Hmmmmph!

But Mom's in the kitchen, something's in the oven, and he hurries in to help, and to dispense advice!
Because he's her MAN.

What an adventuresome afternoon!

How to cook a turkey....

2011-11-22T11:02:00.000-08:00

Thaw the turkey if frozen.

Oh , thanks for that wisdom!

This takes at least four days, and should be done in the refrigerator. Put it into the pan you'll roast it in to catch any leaks. After it thaws, remove that metal or plastic thing holding the legs together (a pair of pliers is essential, I find).

Pliers???
What do you know about pliers?
Pliers are a man thing; perhaps your husband explained them to you.

Total Douchebag

2011-11-22T10:22:00.000-08:00

"Mary Ann, having had her fill of sausage, went on to have just a small Caesar salad. I had not eaten a hamburger in November, so I asked the waitress to bring me one. “Great!” she said. “Tom Fitzmorris says that it’s the best hamburger in New Orleans!” Actually, I don’t say that exactly, but that it’s a strong contender for the title. I assumed at first she was funning with me, but it became clear that she didn’t know who I was. My words have been handed back to me before, but Mary Ann had never seen this and found it amusing. I was just going to let it slide, but she ratted me out. This embarrassed the lady a bit. I guess she thought I thought that she ought to know me. In fact, I’d prefer not to be known."

Then WHY did you bring it up????????

The Saints

2011-10-10T14:49:00.000-07:00

"The Saints led through the whole game. Not a good game, said MA. A good game, she claims, is one during which you feel as if you're going to have a stroke several times. I don't get as excited as most people do at a football game, but I know what she means--if not how this is in any way pleasurable."

Not to worry, it's a guy thing; you wouldn't understand.

Dweeb City III

2011-10-09T15:13:00.000-07:00

The long day's final bell rings...

At last! The weekend is nigh; there is so much to do! If only he could lease someone else's spare time!

As our boy rides his bicycle home on Friday afternoon, his handlebar streamers flapping in the breeze, a dog suddenly darts from the side, "WOOF WOOF WOOF!!!!!!!!!!!", and gives chase!

Caught completely by surprise, the boy reacts by fleeing, eyes wide, heart pumping, legs furiously churning in a dire attempt to escape impending death! He's screaming, and trying without much success to squeeze the bulb on his horn to alert the authorities, when he hits a crack in the sidewalk and goes down, down, down..............

As he rolls and flails from the impact {OH MY GOD I'M GONNA DIE, OH MY GOD I'M GONNADIE, OHMYGODIMGONNADIE!!!!!!!!!!!!}, he remembers to cover up his face to protect it from being chewed off by the beast, whose maw is even now close enough that it's fetid breath can be smelt!

"FLUFFY!!! FLUFFY!!!! COME HERE!!!--NOW!!!" A girls sharp command halts the beast, and slowly, our boy manages to peek out from under his up thrown arms, and gasping for breath, struggles to his feet, legs still shaking, and notices the girl with the tail-wagging beagle in her arms.

Hmmmmph!

Admonishing her to keep her animal chained, he rightens his downed bicycle, adjusts the retaining strap on his eyeglasses, and manages to ride off towards home, and the promise of supper.

On the way, shaken from his encounter with near death, he pulls into the corner store to clean himself (he has access to the restrooms here, his many prior purchases of Violets have allowed some privileges); to wipe the dirt from his face and hands, and especially important---to check his bicycle for any damage or blemishes (his Dad would be FURIOUS if that bike were to be scratched). Mission accomplished, he decides to cool off with a new frozen treat, beckoned to by a rather dapper polar bear on a red and teal striped cup! Much more festive than sno-balls!

ICEE...

Almost home now, enjoying his new found refreshment, he thinks how groovy it would be to have a job there, where he could be...well, in charge. Yes. That's it exactly!

In Charge. ...and hire a few simpletons, who would answer to him.

Like that oaf from Baton Rouge.

Dweeb City II

2011-10-02T10:14:00.000-07:00

The alarm bell rings...

Our boy awakens, and rubs himself, thinking of teacher, as the aroma of bacon & pancakes permeates the air; today, at school, projects are due, and his is superb! It is a paper on old colloquialisms, prepared to illustrate the boy's intellect and persuasive skill! No one can question the research undertaken, to gainsay it would be a jealous undertaking.

Breakfast over, and with a tummy full of love, our boy heads off to school, confident that teacher will be impressed with his efforts, and will reward him accordingly; perhaps a seat closer to the front, or a glimpse up her skirt (she really does let it go sometimes; perhaps it is for him), or an offer to stay after class?....

The bell rings. Boy places an apple tart, that he COOKED HIMSELF! on teacher's desk, confident she will know it was from him--but he feels somewhat dirty, for his mother is his true love, isn't she? Yes! She is! But she never gave him, well......that tightening in the dungarees that teacher sometimes does....

Off to PE. Sigh.... Changing into those horrid gym outfits is almost too much for a boy such as himself to bear. Why, he appears to be just another grunt on the field, when he is obviously special! This fol-de-rol is for plebeians! He, of course, is destined for much, much more!

WAIT!!! Here comes the ball! NO!!!!!! As the ball lands and rolls away, the boy awkwardly chases it, and throws it to the opposing team, amid jeers and insults.

Stupid ball.

He would have caught it. He could have caught it. But the sun was in his eyes. Oh well, it's just stupid sports.

Bell ringing--time to change, and end this painful exercise in stupidity. Baseball, indeed...stuff for losers.

Locker room, and again, our boy hopes to disappear into the corners, where he'll go unnoticed. Alas, it is not to be. Frankie notices his briefs are labeled with his name (as if someone would actually steal them), and points it out to the room. As the group laughs and points, our boy, shaken with fear, cowers into the corner, urine running down his legs. Thank heavens Mother makes him bring a change of clothes. "Just in case."

The bell rings, signaling lunch. The only bright spot of every day-

As our boy slides his tray along the rails, he is greeted by the ladies, who comment on his rather smart attire; his ascot is quite fetching! Thank you, yes, it's silk. Some of the Trout Almondine please, and a helping of greens, please. Did you add red pepper flakes as I suggested? You did? Good.

I'll let you know how it turned out, but please, I'll have some of that dessert.

He sits by himself and enjoys his meal, oblivious to all around him.

Bell ringing..... Time to present his project! Teacher calls the students randomly, and there are some really good presentations. Really. Good. Presentations.

Volcanos.
Jacob's Ladders.
Water filtering Systems.
Computations of PI to 150 places.
Shakespeare's rowdy period.

Finally, the boy's name is called. He addresses the class, and reads his paper on colloquialisms. And is addressed by silence. Total, utter, and complete silence.

Reddened in the face, he returns to his seat, and vows to never again, never, ever, ever, EVER, speak slang again. From now forward, forever and ever, a New Orleans sandwich on French Bread will always be addressed as "Poor Boy".

.................................

The next day....

Our boy ventures off to school, but notices a burly boy intent on hampering his progress. Sigh....

Used to this, our boy brakes to a slow halt, expecting to relinquish his milk money, or worse, his teacher's apple.

But, lo and behold, the ogre wants only to befriend him! "I have no friends, and am stupid, but wish to change", he confesses.

Our boy, relieved (to say the least), ejaculates, "But Good Heavens!!! I don't recognize you! Where, pray tell, are you from, and what is your name?"

"My name is Foodie, and I'm from Baton Rouge", the oaf replies.

"Well, your breath smells of gin, but I suspect you'll be a good flunky", our boy thinks, as he rides away, smirking at his new-found ability to win over losers.

Blast from the Past.....

2011-10-01T13:55:00.001-07:00

Dweeb City I
.
.
.
A young boy who lacks any social skills whatsoever goes to school, and is teased and ridiculed by his classmates for his looks, his style of dress, his lack of finesse, his laughable attempts at interaction with girls.

Always the one to raise his hand first in response to teacher's questions, his answers are often correct, but delivered such that his classmates, rolling their eyes, laugh and point at the fatso with the poor teeth. When teacher proclaims that the boy's answer is incorrect, the boy fumes, and consumed with purpose, spends the rest of the day attempting to reinforce his answer.

The bell rings. Time for PE.
Reluctantly, the boy changes into the dreaded gym shorts and T-shirt. The outfit only serves to accentuate his already portly and slovenly body, and what's the point anyway? He's never chosen when the two teams take turns picking their players, relegated to being settled for when the choices are over. Sent out to right field, he hopes and prays that the ball goes anywhere but here.

The bell rings. Time to change.
The other boys laugh and snap towels, but our boy scurries into the corner to change as quickly as possible, avoiding eye contact, lest he be teased and humiliated for being a pantywaist mommy's boy.

The lunch bell rings. At last!
The cafeteria ladies all chat with the boy as he passes through the line, as he'll eat anything; it's all good. He's not challenged here; he knows the difference between ham and beef. He'll come back for seconds, sometimes thirds. He'll comment to the ladies on what he thought was above average.
The other kids like to give him the stuff on their plates that they don't want, peas, raisins and carrots, applesauce, liver, etc. He eats it all, and thinks he's providing a service to his mates. They all laugh at him.

The bell rings. Back to class.
Having done his research, the boy awaits his chance to show teacher his superior intellect. Teacher calls for an answer, and our boy's arm shoots up!
But another student is called on, and answers correctly.

The bells rings. School's out for the day, time to go home.

Mom is waiting, and cooking something, where it will be served with unconditional love and acceptance, even though Dad is sometimes harsh and...well, disappointed in his son.

But he doesn't care; as he drifts off to sleep, he dreams of tomorrow's meal, which is the only happiness he receives, and how he'll get back at the people who are normal.

In 1972

2011-09-30T13:35:00.000-07:00

On June 19th, I found what I thought was a misplaced whisker in my, ahem, previously smooth nether region.
I plucked it out.
I still have it.

Sept 30 Menu Dreck

2011-09-30T13:09:00.000-07:00

"The first photos ever of a live giant squid were taken today in 2004, about 600 miles from Tokyo. An elusive monster, the giant squid is big enough to battle a sperm whale to the finish."

Here we go again! Spitting out the same shit, word for word repeatedly, as if it were new content.
You just like to say "sperm", don't you?

"I would prefer to order an extra-thick steak and bring the leftover portion home to get the cooking advantages that thick steaks have."

OMG!!!!! A Doggie Bag???? Say it ain't so!
Anathema for anyone else, but totally acceptable for you?
A Doggie Bag for a Douche Bag.

Jesuits

2011-09-27T10:34:00.000-07:00

"The Jesuits loom large in my life, and I would be a different person were it not for them."

So, you're blaming the Jesuits for you being an asshole?

Beverly Dinner Playhouse

2011-09-23T12:39:00.000-07:00

"...the minor gay subplots that seemingly every play worked in somewhere."

So...
You know of this, but your wife enjoys sports?
Every attempt to establish yourself as a man fails miserably.
Go change your tampon, you pussy.

Dozen Best Bouillabaisse

2011-09-23T09:39:00.000-07:00

"Bouillabaisse is the great seafood stew of the South of France. Other variations include the Spanish zarzuela and the Italian cioppino or cacciuco."

Oh!
Gesundheit!
HAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!

Pimp

2011-09-22T20:09:00.000-07:00

"A few (not many) readers of my stuff are such fans that they feel obligated to let me know when someone is shooting at me. One of those sent me a copy today of a crank post on a web messageboard calling me "a pimp for the restaurant industry."

You couldn't be a bigger dick if you tried.

So clever!!!!

2011-09-22T06:53:00.000-07:00

"...one of my running shticks, in which I get waiters and others to say words like "focaccia" or "ciabatta," and then I say "God bless you!" or "Gesundheit!"

HAHAHA!
That is SO funny!!!!!!!!
How much spit do you imagine is served to you?

Drew Brees

2011-09-22T06:40:00.000-07:00

..."Suddenly she blurted, "That guy looks a exactly like--that IS Drew Brees!" Yes, it was, with two other large athletes, walking right past our table en route to the door. This was confirmed when a few people stood up and asked for autographs, which the Saints star gave. I jumped up to give chase."

How would you know?
You jumped up to give chase???
HAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!
Pussy Boy!

Spinach Dip

2011-09-21T02:14:00.001-07:00

"...it must be admitted that a good version of spindip makes for tasty party food. Perfect for, say, watching a football game on television."

How would you know?

Mussels

2011-09-20T10:11:00.000-07:00

"The traditional way to eat mussels is to use a fork to dislodge the first one, then use its now-empty shell to loosen each succeeding mussel. As you go through a serving of mussels, you'll find that the meats come in two colors. The cream-colored ones are the females; the orange ones are the males."

I presume you prefer the orange ones???

9-11

2011-09-20T08:49:00.000-07:00

"Even those of us who weren't paying much attention had their antennae tuned to the possibility that on this tenth anniversary of a bad thing another bad thing might happen. Even Mary Ann--who waves such things off fatalistically--spent a lot of the day watching the towers fall on television. I tried to keep my thoughts as far away from all that as I could."

Yes, I suggest you act like nothing happened.
As did the families of the 3000+ people who died that day.

Rookies

2011-09-17T05:37:00.001-07:00

"It was a fun evening, but not one we are likely to repeat often as a family. Although I have no objections to coming here with the Marys to watch a football game, and have never caused any problems when I did, Mary Ann says that my very presence at even a televised sporting event is a bringdown. She says she will be at Rookies for every Saints game, and I am not invited."

Because even your wife knows that you are a pussy.

Brazil Nuts

2011-09-13T11:09:00.000-07:00

"We really ought to eat more of them. One reason we don't is an unfortunate nickname we ought to forget."

Then why did you bring it up?

Buddy's Poor Boys

2011-09-11T05:16:00.000-07:00

"My hat is off to them for using the spelling "poor boys" in their official name."

Then why aren't you *Thomas* Fitzmorris?
Perhaps Da Wabbit should be The Rabbit?
Should Sloppy Sams be Untidy Samuels?
When's the last time you took a shit?

2011-09-10T03:45:00.000-07:00

"Today is the birthday, in 1934, of Yankee home run slugger Roger Maris, my boyhood baseball hero. He batted left and threw right, as I do."

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oysters...

2011-09-05T13:00:00.000-07:00

When writing of oysters, ALWAYS refer to them as "bi-valves" in the second mention.

Sperm

2011-08-31T10:24:00.000-07:00

"Squid come in every imaginable size. They can be as small as your little finger or big enough to fight a sperm whale to the death."

I just CANT stop speaking of sperm whales!!!!!!
I just must love sperm!!!

Ad Nauseaum......

2011-08-28T09:14:00.000-07:00

"That's the fastest I've seen you move since you broke your ankle," said Mary Leigh.

Oh really?
You broke your ankle?
Hard to believe we've heard NOTHING about it.
Please tell us more.

Corrections...

2011-08-27T14:16:00.000-07:00

It is NOT "Po-Boy"
It is "Poor Boy"
Also, it is Anthony the Tiger.
And it is Smokey Bear, NOT Smokey the bear.

Pecker

2011-08-27T11:14:00.000-07:00

An herb, used to season foodstuffs.
Oh wait, I meant Pepper.
I have no pecker.

Green Beans

2011-08-27T11:04:00.000-07:00

They are green.
One cooks them, and then eats them.
Place salt & pepper in them for a zesty spin!

Tom gets schooled in internet etiquette

2011-08-27T10:48:00.000-07:00

Once again, Tom tries to play the victim card when called out for being a complete dick. "Sheesh! I'm just a normal fella giving his opinion!" We all know the routine. This time, however, Tom can't use the poster's anonymity as a means of trying to discredit the argument once playing the victim card fails. Gee, Tom, whatcha gonna do now that you've been handed your ass by someone who used his full name? Mommy's dead, so you can't go crying to her....

My Ankle

2011-08-26T12:38:00.000-07:00

is still in pain.
Since I broke it on Lundi Gras.
I may not have mentioned this, but I broke my ankle on Lundi Gras.
Lundi Gras is the day prior to my birthday, on Mardi Gras.
Green vegetables are a different color than orange ones, and Grape Nuts are not really nuts.
I don't wear white underwear, because of poo stains.
Thank you for reading the most widely read food forum in the known universe!!!!!!

Exactly 53 years ago...

2011-08-26T03:57:00.000-07:00

I purchased my first #2 pencil.
I still have it.
Coincidentally, I made a #2 in my Osh-Kosh overalls.
I have it as well.

Bananas

2011-08-26T00:43:00.000-07:00

An oblong yellow skinned fruit.
Found in the tropics, but mostly in Wal-Mart, or any other grocery.
Placed on a plate with cinnamon, it is called a banana with cinnamon.
Served with pancakes, it is called pancakes with bananas.

Back in the Day

2011-08-26T00:12:00.000-07:00

When Al Gore consulted me on just how about to invent the World Wide Web, I also officiated the marriage of Uncle Ben to Aunt Jemima.
I also invented rubber tires (before that, they were just wooden wagon wheels), and invented Gumbo to a waiting world.
I invented pineapples, and accidentally baked them in a cake upside down.
I left it out in the rain; I'll never have that recipe again.

Iced Water

2011-08-25T15:55:00.000-07:00

In the South, we like Iced Water.
One makes it by placing ice in water.
Then one drinks it, whilst fanning themselves.
Very genteel.

Cubs

2011-08-25T08:02:00.000-07:00

"I was surprised by what he could not provide: tickets for a Cubs game."
Oh indeed, as if YOU knew what a baseball even was.

Leaves

2011-08-25T07:50:00.000-07:00

Leaves are from trees.
They fall down, and leave, well... leaves.
John Denver wrote "Leaving on a Jet Plane".
I have the longest running, successful, popular food forum in history.
I invite you to "leave" me a message.
Thank you!!!!!!
I LOVE exclamation points!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Today is Wednesday

2011-08-24T15:43:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow will be Thursday, the day prior to Friday.
It is August, and hot.
Hot is a temperature meaning warm.
Cool off with some cold water.
Water is found everywhere, but if one holds one's pinkie at precisely 78 degrees at a restaurant, one will receive superior service.

The secret of toast

2011-08-24T14:19:00.000-07:00

Put some bread in the toaster.
When it pops up, it is done.
You are welcome.

Whilst on the beach....

2011-08-24T14:05:00.001-07:00

It is proper to place the flip-flops on the correct feet.

Next topic.....

2011-08-24T13:58:00.000-07:00

One makes hot tea by steeping a tea-bag in hot water.
Then one adds sugar and or lemon until one's taste is satisfied.

How do you spell "Pathetic"? T-O-M

2011-08-23T14:29:00.000-07:00

From his Sunday, August 7, 2011 Dining Diary, Tom writes:

"I gave a taste to Chef Brian Landry. He's the staff chef for the Louisiana Seafood Marketing Board, although I hear that he is about to move into the John Besh organization. Brian was until recently the executive chef at Galatoire's, a job he held for a few years. My ravigote is pretty close to Galatoire's crabmeat maison. It's probably the most popular appetizer there.

'Notice anything familiar?' I asked.
'Never saw it before,' he said.

Typical wise-ass Jesuit-boy conversation."

The last sentence.....Another one of Tom's feeble attempts to impersonate a 'Jesuit-boy.' Just give it up, PLEEEEZE. You'll never be a Jesuit boy. And your last hope to have claim to a Jesuit degree, Jude, didn't graduate from Jesuit either.

Special thanks to "John John" for the quote and commentary!

Are you serious?????

2011-08-20T05:12:00.000-07:00

"You make lemonade with just three ingredients: fresh lemon juice, water and sugar."
THIS is what you think of as writing???????
What's next?
Boiling water?

Awwww, isn't he cute?

2011-08-18T19:03:00.001-07:00

Mama's little champion!

What next???

2011-08-18T15:17:00.000-07:00

"margarine, n.--A spread made by emulsifying vegetable oil in water."

Perhaps a definition of water?
Or oxygen?
What WOULD we do without your knowledge?
THIS is what a "Jesuit" education yields???
Oh wait.....
You're a Rummel boy.

What an Asshole...

2011-08-18T13:01:00.000-07:00

"Shula's is named for Don Shula, the winningest football coach in NFL history".

Now how the hell would you know that, you pussy?
You don't know what a football even looks like.
Oh wait, you just gather info from the 'net and then post it as your own data.
Then repeat it again and again as new info.
What a literary guy.

Oh now really?

2011-08-18T12:43:00.000-07:00

"We spent the rest of the day at church and play. During the latter, I introduced myself to the water slide, bruising my coccyx in the process."

You mean kinda like MA does to you when sticking it in you?
Or maybe you just wanted to use "coccyx" to presume you would actually impress?

Pure Hideousness

2011-08-17T17:29:00.000-07:00

Hey Asshole

2011-08-17T15:19:00.000-07:00

Other than your stupid ankle, and getting your haircut, over & over & over again, and again, and again, can you speak of anything else?

Fitzbook

2011-08-16T16:46:00.001-07:00

Apparently we're not the only ones who think Tom is arrogant.

If he thinks his bullshit is going to fly on Facebook, his ego will be in for a wake-up call once he loses scores of his "friends"......

Poor Aboy!

2011-08-12T00:49:00.000-07:00

"I have decided to shut down the board. I no longer have the time to monitor it in a way that it requires. Thanks to everyone for their contributions over the years. You may write me at [e-mail address not allowed here - Ed.]. Tastefully yours, Tom Fitzmorris." - 8/11/2011

Translation: "I no longer have the time to manipulate every thread with deletions, edits, and 'Tomments,' and, since I can't control the entire narrative, I refuse to let posters express opinions that differ from mine without being able to insert my snarky 2 cents. "

What a big baby.

Caption This

2011-08-10T08:31:00.001-07:00

Food Myth #13

2011-08-08T17:52:00.000-07:00

Tom's recipes taste good.

2011-08-07T20:56:00.000-07:00

"I just woke up from a dream in which I was single. (This was not an unconscious desire; I like being married.) I had a possible date looming, and I was trying to come up with the perfect place to eat. My wife stepped into the picture and told me that I should forget about my well-formed ideas about which were the best restaurants in town, and think about which one would most likely please a woman."

-- The sex-deprived voice of Tom Fitzmorris, 8/07/2011

Wow. This man is even whipped in his dreams. So sad.

2011-08-07T11:30:00.000-07:00

"I've never heard of any part of the stone crab's being used except the claws. They are usually described as 'sweet,' which I have found can be translated as 'no detectable seafood flavor.' The shells are thick and break in such a way that handling them is like messing with broken china. I once gave myself a nasty cut from a stone crab shell. I have the scar to prove it. You may have all of my share. As has been noted, they are quite expensive.

Tastefully yours,
Tom Fitzmorris"

--The stoneheaded voice of Tom Fitzmorris, 8/07/2011

No detectable flavor? We're talking about stone crabs, not one of your awful recipes.

I'm not interested in your stone crab scar, Tom. Come back when you have scar from serving your country, you fat waste.

On Conch Fritters...

2011-08-01T20:43:00.000-07:00

"Little fried rubber erasers.

You may beoth have all of mine.

Tastefully yours,
Tom Fitzmorris"

Tom often misspells words when he's in a hurry to hijack a thread and piss all over a dish someone else remembers fondly.

UPDATE: It appears Tom has fixed the error (after reading about it on this blog, of course).

Hmmmm......

2011-07-24T17:49:00.000-07:00

Hey Tom.

I see nobody took you up on your "Who Wants to Be a Food Writer" offer.

Guess no one wanted you to fuck with their writing, just like you do with people's posts on your message board.

Hey Tom!

2011-07-21T07:34:00.000-07:00

What's up with your ankle?
Haven't heard anything about it in almost 15 minutes!!!!!!
Born on Mardi Gras Day, and can't even handle a cocktail.
At least you were wearing a tie!

On the Napoleon House

2011-07-19T06:48:00.000-07:00

"They routinely heat the sandwich; tell them not to do that, and the flavors will be in much better balance."

No, asshole.
YOU tell them not to do that.
I'll do whatever the fuck I want.

2011-07-19T06:40:00.000-07:00

"....when I am spotted in a restaurant, the chef digs through the steaks to make sure I get a good one. Same is true of other indicators of VIP-ness."

So, the meat purveyors supply inferior cuts to be used to feed those of lower "VIP-ness?" What kind of p-ness is acceptable? What about the quality of your peas? Are they evaluated by pea-ness?

2011-06-27T06:59:00.000-07:00

"I'd give the direct link, but I'm trying to teach everybody how easy it is to find one of my 450 detailed reviews online."

Wow! Thanks for "trying to teach" us!!!!!!!!
What a guy!

2011-06-24T09:14:00.000-07:00

"One final matter: the right pronunciation of the word is “prah-LEEN.” The only people who say “PRAY-leen” are those who would say “CRAY-fish” or “EYE-ber-ville Street.”"

Or those who say "poor-boy" instead of "Po-boy", or who say "Jesuit" when they really mean "Rummel".

2011-06-15T07:39:00.000-07:00

"I woke up, covered with sweat, my heart beating loud enough to hear. I was in my bed. None of this had happened. It took me a few minutes to regain my composure.

A strong urge to eat garlic bread came upon me. "No! No!" I screamed."

What brand of tampons do you use????

2011-06-13T06:55:00.001-07:00

"The weekly newspaper Gambit came out with one of its two annual restaurant sections this week. It listed 704 restaurants, each with a paragraph and mentions of a few dishes they serve. It took eleven writers to do it, but that's still impressive!"

I'm sure they thank you for reading!!!!!!!!!

2011-06-12T11:49:00.000-07:00

"My wife came up with an interesting idea to add some contrast to the fabric of NOMenu.com. We are asking experts in various areas of food and drink to write short blogs for the site, in exchange for various considerations, including actual money.

Take a look at the nascent blog page here:

http://www.nomenu.com

Click on "Blog" in the blue bar near the top of the page.

Tell me what aspect of the local food world you'd like to pursue, and just write one on spec. Some of the departments I'm interested in include:

--Poor boys
--Bar Menus
--Mixology
--Ethnic Restaurants
--Chain restaurants
--Street food
--Waiters' Tales

. . .that's just off the top of my head. I'm open to any ideas you have, as long as you can turn out about one a week on your chosen topic. I will edit (for grammar and clarity, not for content).

Send your ideas to tom@nomenu.com.

So far, the response has been very disappointing.

Thanks for thinking about it!"

WHAT???????
To add content to YOUR playroom?????
And you will edit for grammar??????
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2011-06-06T15:57:00.000-07:00

"My most vivid memory of the Bali Ha'i involved a girl named Sandy, who asked me to her prom."

She asked YOU to HER prom???????
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
You were masturbating waiting for your mother to bring you a fresh pair of Jockey's, you pussy.

I just can't WAIT to meet you mano a mano.

Cue the violins!

2011-06-01T20:00:00.000-07:00

"I am one guy with what amounts to three full-time jobs (writing 4000 words a day, logging more radio talk show hours than anyone else in town, and maintaining an enormous website--with two books in the works to boot) and I can't do everything. I have no staff. Queries made about a tiny restaurant on the North Shore by a single anonymous poster cannot, I'm afraid, be my top priority. Having a broken ankle also has slowed me down for the past three months. Easy enough, you say--if one has nothing else to do or think about. Note, please, that I am writing this after 10 p.m. I sat down at this desk at seven this morning. Every day, I leave jobs undone."

--Food critic Tom Fitzmorris, who died for your sins, 6/01/2011

By the way, Tom has since deleted the above post from his message board....but not before we were able to preserve it for posterity.

From Tommie Boy

2011-05-21T15:13:00.000-07:00

"By the way, the owner of Bayou Ridge told me she got the name for the place from an article I wrote once about the Metairie Ridge, on whch the place sits."

HAHA.
You weak-hearted, insecure, starved for attention little boy.
Always needing to proclaim your perceived achievements.
Here's a clue, pussy.
True stars don't need to do that.
Their work stands on its own.
You are a boor (Look it up!).

Well, today is Judgement Day

2011-05-21T13:46:00.000-07:00

Tommy......
Pussy Boy..........
Are you still here??????????
Well.
Guess all that Holier than Thou BS was just Hot Aire.

Is Tom still a gimp?

2011-05-12T08:04:00.000-07:00

I haven't read so much as a nuance of that for at least 15 seconds!
Does he still have the gout (it IS a condition of high livin', ya know!).
Does his daughter still attend Tulane?
He hasn't mentioned that in at least a minute!
Maybe he just works TOO hard!
Has he mentioned he has the gout lately?
Did he ever mention he attended Jesuit?
Do you know he doesn't have dinner?
He has Supper!
And he doesn't drink coffee?
No, it is Cafe au Lait!
I would call him pompous, but that would mean that he knows more than I!
Do you know his daughter attends Tulane????
And he works SO hard!
I can't WAIT to hear of his next haircut! I SO look forward to it!
Did you know he went to Jesuit?
He has no diploma, but he has a tie!
From Jesuit!

Perhaps Tom's most pathetic rebuttal ever?

2011-04-23T16:07:00.000-07:00

April 22, 2011:

Mister Movie (a guest on Tom's forum): "Corky's is a joke. At least in Memphis."

Tom's response: "Why is it that they consistently win the popularity awards there, then?"

That's right, folks. Tom is defending a chain...and with the shockingly flimsy argument that since the chain is popular, it clearly musn't be "a joke." Bold-ass words, especially coming from someone who issued this decree from his high horse back in the day. Of course, we all know Tom is partial to Corky's (you see, in Tom's world, it's ok to like a chain as long as Tom also likes it), but in his reflexive attempt to gain the upper hand through the trite rebuttal above, he comes across as a total imbecile. Par for the course, I guess.

2011-03-23T19:30:00.000-07:00

"Times are not hard out there. They are not getting harder all the time. All I see, by every measurement, is things getting better all the time. And when things dip down, it's usually because of people who repeat the above mantra over and over.

Before you jump on me, know that I'm speaking in general, not in particular. Right now I cannot walk, and have not left my house for the last eight days. That is hard for me, yes. Today. But over the last year, five years, ten years, twenty-five years, fifty years. . . my world, and the worlds of the overwhelming majority of people, are better than they ever have been. Good enough to allow this overwhelming majority to help the minority that really is in trouble--and always has been.

Katrina went away. The oil spill went away. The Japanese problem will go away. Glenn Beck, tuberculosis, malaria, web board cranks, and crime will all go away. You bet against it, you'll lose."

--Food critic and shameless Obama apologist Tom Fitzmorris, who gets his meals for free, MenuDaily, 3/23/2011

Thankfully, Tom, you'll go away one day, too....and, judging by your age and eating habits, probably sooner rather than later.

Buffets for lunch in Indian restaurants.

2011-03-18T15:46:00.000-07:00

"Buffets for lunch in Indian restaurants are almost universal. Restaurants of all kinds have found that if there is a foolproof way to get people to come into a place, it's to give them all they can eat. People who know better are fewer in number and much harder to sell. Any moron is touched by the appeal of all you can eat. It also gets past the main barrier most people perceive in going to exotic restaurants: it removes the risk of being stuck with something you might not like. In a buffet, if that happens, you just get something else. That way you don't have to, like, know anything.Tastefully yours,Tom Fitzmorris" ---TF on one of his rants about buffets, fast food, franchises, dining too soon at new restaurants, po-boys and whatever effluvia is clouding his mind. 03-16-2011

How condescending, you bloated blivit!

2011-02-02T17:36:00.001-08:00

In yet another failed attempt to snag an honorary Jesuit degree, Rummel Raider Tom Fitzmorris tries to curry favor with Reverend Father President Anthony McGinn, S.J., by belching the Blue Jay Fight Song.

2011-02-02T17:26:00.000-08:00

"[Mary-Ann] made the reservation [at Restaurant August]. I don't know what she told them, but it must have been good, because we got the best table in the house--right on the corner of Tchoupitoulas at Gravier. When I was thirteen and had to come down here by myself on the bus to buy my Jesuit uniform, this was not an auspicious corner, let alone the home of one of the city's best restaurants." -- Jesuit Non-Graduate Tom Fitzmorris, Dining Diary, 1/25/2011

She probably told them, "If you give us the best table in the house, I promise to make my husband hold in his egg-farts until after we leave."

Just out of curiosity, Tom, was the corner any better a few years later, when you went to buy your Rummel uniform?

The Cool Water Ranch....

2011-01-27T19:00:00.001-08:00

...The ORIGINAL "Awffle House"!

Guess that's why Jude left?

Once again, Tom has no other recourse than to belittle a multi-million dollar idea that he didn't invent.

Someone's feeling REALLY insecure....

2011-01-08T13:19:00.000-08:00

"After as long as I've done this, there's no question that I am no longer anonymous. I counterbalance that by having by far the most intensive program possible to get feedback from others. This is the most active food board in town, for example. And there you are, giving me feedback that disagrees with my opinion. Three hours a day six days a week, I invite disagreeing opinions on the radio. Hell, you can join me for dinner once a week and look me in the eye as you tell me what you think. No other critic in the world gives his readers more chances to set him straight. If what I hear from the public is at great odds with my experience and repetitive, I include that in my assessment of the restaurant.

And if that's not enough for you, what should I do? Retire? Then you'd have not one single critic here giving restaurant ratings. Let alone a review every day. How many letters have you written to the Times-Picayune to complain that their critic hasn't written a review in over a year? He's anonymous, but what good does that do you if he's not reviewing with ratings?

Everything's a tradeoff. I believe one of the benefits I bring to my readers is my long view of the big picture of New Orleans dining. (Find another source for 425 current, detailed reviews.) But to get to that point I have become well known. Everybody knows this and figures that into what I say. Or should. But I don't consider my longevity a handicap. It's a help." -- Tom Fitzmorris, who must've caught a whiff of one of his own farts this morning, 1/08/2011

Is There a Proprietary Right to Reveillon?

2010-12-01T13:23:00.000-08:00

On one of the longest-running, most active, most interesting food messageboard posts recently, the dean of all food critics stated that thirtrty-two (sic) restaurants are offering the holiday-themed dinners through the "official organization" this year, and "quite a few more will be trying to mooch a ride on the coattails." I have no idea where he got the idea that Reveillon is anyone's exclusive property, but as far as I am concerened, it belongs to us all.

2010-09-12T04:11:00.000-07:00

Everybody smile and say "Escolar"!

2010-08-20T15:03:00.000-07:00

"[O]nly a fool would buy anything from a drive-up." -- The foolish voice of Tom Fitzmorris, 8/20/2010

"I have a liking for Krystal hamburgers. . . .I might eat them once a year." -- Tom Fitzmorris, 3/31/2006

2010-08-15T11:32:00.000-07:00

I claim to be [writing a weekly food newsletter] continuously than anybody else, mainly to see if anyone doing it longer can be flushed out of the underbrush. I've said it for at least ten years now, and no challenges to my deanwhip have been found. Not even by the cranks who read every word I write, looking for reasons to deny that I've done anything important."

-- The insecure voice of Tom Fitzmorris, 8/15/2010

Get a load of this load....

2010-08-15T04:10:00.000-07:00

Tom Fitzmorris' bio, as found on Amazon.com. Wow....Pathetic! [Bracketed text mine and included for accuracy.]

Tom Fitzmorris was born in New Orleans on Mardi Gras. So a career writing and broadcasting on the pleasures of eating came naturally [as did his tendency to spew horseshit worthy of a Clydesdale]. He writes the longest-running restaurant review column in America by a single author, published every week since September, 1972.

He's better known, though, for talking about food on the radio [and for being an egomaniacal nancy boy]. His program airs for three hours a day, six days a week, on WWWL (1350 AM) and WWL (105.3 FM). "I'm not sure of that much radio time spent on food will work," he says. "It's only been on the air since 1988." [Because it's an infomercial and generates revenue for the station.]

Tom writes and publishes the New Orleans Menu, a newsletter published every weekday online at NOMenu.Com. It covers the whole New Orleans food scene: restaurant reviews, recipes, top-ten lists, a calendar of local food events, a daily food almanac, and his Dining Diary. "It's what's now called a blog, but I've written it since decades before that word was invented," he says. [Tom wishes he'd invented that word, just like he wishes he'd invented spinach-artichoke dip and fried turkeys.]

He's the author of sixteen restaurant guides, four cookbooks, and a memoir. The most recent include the fifth edition of "The Unofficial Guide to New Orleans" (Menasha Ridge Press, 2008) and "Tom Fitzmorris's New Orleans Food: 250 of the City's Best Recipes for Cooking at Home" (Stewart, Tabori and Chang, Second Edition, 2010). The memoir--which focuses on the reaction and recovery of the restaurant scene in New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina, as well as other major turning points in the city's culinary past--is "Hungry Town" (Stewart, Tabori and Chang, 2010). [His books are known for being hot-sellers because of their forewords by real chefs.]

Every week, Tom convenes local food-and-wine aficionados for the New Orleans Eat Club, a series of [profitable] dinners in the restaurants of the city. A more-than-decent cook in his own right [according to himself], Tom stages several annual dinners for various charities throughout the year. [Maybe Tom should host an Eat Club at his ranch. I'm sure most New Orleanians would be willing to take the trip out of town.]

Except for the six weeks after Katrina [during which he cowered in fear in Washington D.C. while all other New Orleans radio personalities worked overtime to keep the public informed], Tom has lived his entire life in New Orleans [except for the past quarter century, when he has lived in Abita Springs]. He attended [but did not graduate from] Jesuit High School and is a graduate in Communications from the University of New Orleans (1974). He is married to the former Mary Ann Connell [whom he knocked up nine months prior to the wedding]. They and their two children, Jude [a "thespian"] and Mary Leigh [a beef eater], live near Abita Springs, across Lake Pontchartrain [and far away] from [the blacks and taxes of] New Orleans. Good wild mushrooms grow in the woods around his house [and help nurture his delusions of grandeur].

2010-08-14T22:23:00.000-07:00

"Our total is now $54.65. Let's really be a cheapass and tip exactly 15%--and not on the tax. $62.84. And let's pretend we're frothing-at-the-mouth members of the Tea Party movement and refuse to pay taxes." -- Food critic Tom Fitzmorris, who would likely teabag Obama if given the chance, 6/14/2010

Tom really should stop picking on the Tea Party and stick to movements with which he has actual firsthand experience....like the greasy, foul-smelling kind that discharge from his bowels after a rich meal.

Check out some of Tom's offensive e-mail messages to members of the Greater New Orleans Tea Party here:

http://www.meetup.com/The-Greater-New-Orleans-Tea-Party/messages/boards/thread/9267935

2010-08-14T13:31:00.000-07:00

2010-08-12T19:47:00.000-07:00

"It is absolutely true that I have never been to a Saints game. Nor have I ever watched more than a few minutes of one on television (and then only because I was in a restaurant where it was on the tube)." -- Tom "WhoDat" Fitzmorris, 8/12/2010

To be fair, I don't fault Tom for not following the Saints. After all, he doesn't even live in New Orleans.

Living in Denial, Day by Day....

2010-08-06T15:54:00.000-07:00

"I am 59 1/2 years old. I've lived all my life in New Orleans except for an average of two weeks of vacation per year starting at age 23, and six weeks after Katrina. Even went to college here. Unless you're applying that anti-regional nonsense."
-- St. Tammany resident and "white flight" participant Tom Fitzmorris, 8/06/2010

Poor Tom. He lives his entire life in denial. He acts as if Katrina never happened; he considers himself a Jesuit graduate even though he received his diploma from Rummel; he deludes himself into thinking that the Saints are merely a trivial component of local culture; and he actually thinks he is still a bona fide New Orleanian, despite living in a completely different parish many miles away.

I actually feel sorry for the guy.

2010-07-15T10:03:00.000-07:00

"Being called pompous doesn't trouble me, because that's the classic slur thrown by those who don't know very much at people who do. I'm flattered that they think so (even though they don't realize that's what they're saying.)" -- The pompous voice of Tom Fitzmorris, 7/14/2010

This kind of rationalization is beneath you, Tom.

Oh, wait. no it isn't....

The World's Most Pompous Search Bar!

2010-07-02T07:45:00.001-07:00

Trying to locate a specific instance of classic Tom Fitzmorris douchebaggery? Want to know his take on macaroni and cheese or see his advice to Katrina victims or read his revisionist history of German U-Boats in the Gulf of Mexico? Use the search bar in the right-hand column of this blog for your convenience in locating these gems and more! It's just our way of making the REAL Tom Fitzmorris more accesible to the general public.

Shut Up and Write About Food! Going strong since 2006!

2010-07-02T07:01:00.000-07:00

"[Vietnamese food] is not bad. Just overrated by its fans. Like Steve Carrell is to his." -- The out-of-touch voice of Tom Fitzmorris, in a lame attempt to sound "current".

Your Steve Carrell reference is about five years too late to be hip, Tom. You old fart.

What's next? A Jan Murray reference?

2010-07-02T06:56:00.000-07:00

"Someday, I will write, 'I told you this five (or ten or two) years ago!' after the first wave of articles by some beginner food writer comes out entitled, 'So what's the big deal about pho, anyway?'" -- The petty voice of Tom Fitzmorris, in a weak attempt to defend his clueless take on Vietnamese cuisine, 6/30/2010

Always concerned with having the last word. What a little girl.

Tom proves himself a has-been....again.....

2010-07-02T06:54:00.000-07:00

http://www.loringaudin.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=21:tom-fitzmorris-qdining-methuselah&catid=1:blogs

http://bouillie.wordpress.com/2010/06/23/missing-the-point/

This could also apply to food critics....

2010-04-03T15:31:00.001-07:00

http://bighollywood.breitbart.com/jjmnolte/2010/04/02/anyone-else-tired-of-self-important-critics-complaining-about-the-death-of-self-important-criticism/