Musings: Arby's thinks your life is miserable and you are pathetic

I have been fascinated by Arby's new marketing campaign, "Good Mood Food." "It's goood, mooood, fooood." Sometime this winter some PR genius decided that the best way to sell crappy roast beef and curly fries was to have a "Can you hear me now" Verizon-guy-knock-off convince people that their lives are absolute shit and the only way to bring a little sunshine into an otherwise bleak existence is by killing the voices in their heads with empty calories. Every time one of these disasters prances arrogantly across my television screen I have to sit and watch it in absolute stunned silence.

"What can't a tortoise be in a good mood?" No it can't you ass clown, shut the fuck up. If a tortoise ate one of those greasy ass sandwiches it would probably keel over and die. What, oh I'm missing the point? Fuck you there is no point. Never in my life have I seen a company so blatantly pull back the curtain with an advertising slogan and say "listen drugs aren't legal, but you know what is? Sodium and if you eat this sandwich you'll get enough of it to get you high enough to at least get through the rest of your day."

Can't they at least pretend like the people who eat at Arby's on a consistent basis don't already want to kill themselves? Good Mood Food sounds like the last resort of a dying brand. "OK, we've tried telling people about healthy options, they didn't like that. We tried to emphasize the quality of our food, they saw right through it. The only thing left is to emphasize that life is short and hard but eating irresponsibly will dull the pain." My only hope is that the actor paid to star in these abominations is so forever tainted by the Arby's stink that he'll never be allowed to earn a living another way. The whole thing is almost enough to get me to stop watching TV, almost.

Mussels: Deux Cochon

Hungry for a quick bite before some reading and lounging in the East End this Saturday, the wife and I stopped in to the newly established Deux Cochon above Big Sky Bread Company in Monument Square. Lured in by the promise of barbecue and slow southern cooking on a strategically placed sandwich board outside, we climbed the stairs and found Deux Cochon to be a little booth occupying the space formerly inhabited by the apparently defunct and enthusiastically named Peanut Butter, Jelly Time(!). I have only been to the restaurants above Big Sky a handful of times and then only for the delicious individual pizzas at Pie in the Sky. But I remember seeing PBJT and I may be wrong but it looked like the same guy who ran that has rebranded and is now running Deux Cochon. The menu was somewhat limited, 3-4 different sandwiches, a ribs plate and some smaller appetizers, boiled peanuts (umm no thanks) and pickles. Appetizers were $3-$4 and all of the entrees (so to speak) were $6-$7. I opted for the old stand bye, pulled pork while the wife went to the specials board for the "chicken relish sandwich" or some similar combination of words that don't belong together.

Pulled Pork Sandwich - $6.00 - Born and bred in the Northeast I think it would certainly be fair to classify myself as a barbecue novice. To me a barbecue is grilling the shit out of meat over an open flame, barbecue sauce is ketchup based and made cheaply by some guy who refers to himself as Sweet Baby Ray. I had heard rumors about other parts of the country smoking large cuts of meat for hours over indirect heat and using a vinegar based sauce but it was something that I had really only experienced vicariously on TV. In fact as far as food porn goes the thought of a vinegar based barbecue sauce had always left me somewhat flaccid. Much to my surprise a little booth in an old PB&J stand provided my first taste of "real" barbecue. The pork was tender and cautiously basted in a very delicious vinegar sauce that provided a nice counterbalance to the richness of the meat without overpowering it. More BBQ sauce was offered but I felt the sandwich was dressed appropriately. The bread was a regular hamburger bun slathered in butter and toasted on a skillet. That green thing in the skewer is pickled okra which the owner asked me "not to be afraid of." I wasn't and it was OK.

Pulled Chicken Sandwich - $6.50 - The wife's option, chicken relish or something like that, turned out to be a rather ordinary pulled chicken sandwich. The chicken had a little bit of a smokey overture and was adorned with some mild house pickles atop the same buttered hamburger bun. The chicken did not have much of anything in terms of sauce but was tasty nonetheless.The best part of her choice was the generous shards of skin left in among the very moist white meat. I was only allowed one cursory bite of her sandwich but she was satisfied with it and I happily collected the discarded scraps of chicken skin left on the plate.

The owner (I swear it's the same guy who I always saw at PBJT) was very nice and seemed genuinely concerned with whether or not we enjoyed the meal. The return of 2 very clean plates seemed to speak for itself. The only complaint I have is $6 and $6.50 is a pretty steep price for 2 sandwiches. Neither of us found the sandwiches to be overstuffed with meat and at that price it would have been nice to have a little something besides the okra on the side. If we go again I'll have to loosen up the purse strings and get some biscuits and gravy on the side. Boiled peanuts? Umm, fuck no.