Illustration by Monica Fuentes

"You may have tried only 20 or so" of the items on the "100 things to eat before you die" list that's been making the rounds on Facebook, wrote The Sun earlier this week.

And while that may be true for a majority of typical eaters, I found that I'd eaten 92 out of the 100 items on the list -- many of which I didn't consider all that exotic or bizarre.

Indeed, the modern "foodie" -- as much as we may hate that description -- tends to have the kind of adventurous palate that comes from eating for sport, a joy of traveling, a compulsion to connect with other cultures and the sheer novelty of finding something new and interesting in this over-explored world.

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Library of Congress, Public Domain, from http://ushistoryimages.com

Abolitionist John Brown, convicted of treason, rides to the gallows sitting on his own coffin. His wife joined him in prison for their last meal together.

Sometimes, a story that seems like a lark becomes remarkably thought-provoking. When reader Christian Palmer suggested I do a story on the last meals of prisoners, it seemed like a "fun" thing to do. The more I looked into it though, the more I started thinking about life and death, and how those of us who are free have opportunities to celebrate our lives through the act of eating.

In many countries, prisoners sentenced to death are given an opportunity to make a final request for their last earthly pleasure: their last meal. Prisoners can thank inmate Lawrence Russell Brewer, who participated in the horrific murder of James Byrd, Jr., for the discontinuation of the practice in Texas in 2011. He ordered:

• Two chicken fried steaks smothered in gravy with sliced onions
• Triple meat bacon cheeseburger with fixings on the side
• Cheese omelet with ground beef, tomatoes, onions, bell peppers and jalapenos
• Fried okra with ketchup
• One pound of barbecue with half a loaf of white bread
• Three fajitas with fixings
• "Meat Lovers" pizza
• Three root beers
• One pint of Blue Bell vanilla ice cream
• Peanut butter fudge with crushed peanuts

When the feast arrived, he didn't eat a bite of it. After a formal complaint from Senator John Whitmire that the meal requests were inappropriate (since murder victims certainly did not get such a boon before their deaths), Brad Livingston, Executive Director of the Texas Department of Criminal Justice, declared the practice discontinued.

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Chuck Cook Photography

No, these weren't leftovers from a "special" party. We call it "The Feast of Shame."

No matter how well-educated one becomes about food, some cravings never go away. Some are born in childhood. My husband complained for years when Grape Tang was discontinued and gets bizarre cravings for the crime against nature called "circus peanuts." Supposedly, it's a candy; a mind-boggling, rubbery lab experiment gone awry that is orange, shaped like a peanut, and tastes like banana dipped briefly in nail polish remover.

Yet, this scathing assessment comes from someone who dips fries in the country gravy intended for my chicken fried steak and eats every bag of Cheetos® out of the variety packs at the office. Really, who am I to talk?

It's not just us foodies. The pros are as likely to love of junk food as we are. The first pre-opening party of a high-profile restaurant featured an elaborate tableau designed by the chef... of tortilla chips, salsa, gummy worms, cheese balls, Sriracha, Funyuns® and microwavable chicken strips.

Ironically, as I was researching this article, Sam Brown came out with his own guilty pleasures confession last week. Maybe memories of overstuffed Easter baskets brings back some sort of primal longing for the days we could live on nothing but sugar and fat (and not gain a pound).

Names have been withheld to protect the rest of the confessors (and because I don't want to be banned from their future parties).

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Rasputin having one of his famous tummy aches.

On December 16, 1916, the Russian monk, mystic and politically polarizing figure Grigori Rasputin was invited to a bit of a soiree, one which ended with his body being bound, wrapped in carpet and tossed into the frigid Neva river, but only after he was beaten, stabbed and shot.

All of this, because the cyanide in his wine and cakes didn't kill him. Either it baked off in the ovens or Rasputin had pulled a Dread Pirate Roberts and acquired immunity to poison, though it would be cyanide, in this case, instead of Iocane powder.

Throughout history, poison has been used to knock off kings, nobles, lords and ladies. Assassinations at the dinner table were as common place in ancient Egypt as they were in Medieval Europe. The use of poison even stretched devious tendrils to the Far East, where in the Land of the Rising Sun, it is not just the fugu that'll kill you, although fugu will kill you.

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Photo by Nicholas L. Hall

In goes my hand into that wool-white bell-tongued ball of holidays resting at the rim of the carol-singing sea. . .

I would like to specifically point out that this edition of Brew Blog was not, in fact, inspired by Bruce R's comment on my recent post about Brooklyn Winter Ale. Just kidding, Bruce. Not really. What?

The truth is, I probably would have tried Jubelale on Bruce's recommendation, but I didn't. When I built my six-pack, I focused on holiday brews, taking it as an opportunity to get festive without a tunnel-vision-inducing sense of commitment. I mean, six of the same beer?! Who does that? Turns out I wish I had. Jubelale is good stuff.

Jubelale is a Winter Warmer, which is exactly what it sounds like. Designed to be nourishing and comforting on brisk English nights, Winter Warmers are typified by strong malt flavors and a warming demeanor. They frequently call to mind other flavors strongly associated with the season, from dark fruits and spices to vaguely piney nuances. Think of it as Christmas in a bottle.

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Photos by Mai Pham

This is the picture I posted on Twitter. Do the noodles look alive?

When I posted this picture with my Tweet of "Cold Korean noodles rock!," I thought people would take a look at the picture and immediately agree about how yummy it looked. But no, that's not quite what happened.

Nicholas Hall tweeted me back with a skeptical "Is it just me, or does that kind of look alive in the bowl?" On second inspection, I can definitely see what he was getting at, and I blame my phone camera for creating that illusion. They do have that sort of squirmy look.

In reality, the noodles weren't even close to alive and squirmy, and except for the hard-boiled egg, everything in it was entirely made of vegetables. And, they were dadgum tasty. Called naeng-myoeon (and pronounced phonetically neng mee-un), they are my most recent obsession when it comes to Korean food. Made of buckwheat noodles, cucumbers, sliced pear or radish, and a special recipe sweet-and-spicy red sauce, these are not just room-temperature cold. They are refreshingly ice-cold, made so by the fact that the recipe calls for them to be bathed in ice water prior to being drained.

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Joanna O'Leary

Don't be fooled by plain appearance.

Several months ago I bemoaned the fact that many Houston delis/sandwich shops do not carry egg salad, in a post on the Hobbit Cafe's Far Down, a spectacular dill egg salad sandwich loaded with avocado.

That's still true, but I no longer care, 'cause now I know where to go. In response to that post, Mike N. advised me:

"You need to try the egg salad at Nielsen's further west on Richmond. The deviled eggs too."

It happened that I was, at that time, driving past Nielsen's almost everyday on my way to a part-time job. But two days after I received Mike's recommendation, the job ended and summer began and I went away and blah blah blah I never got to Nielsen's.

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Much better tasting than my horrible photography might lead you to believe. . .

Just like albums, restaurants often have "Deep Cuts," unexpected gems buried in their menus, overlooked for the more readily accessible and better known dishes. Often, it's the mere lack of familiarity, itself, that keeps these dishes unfamiliar. We are largely creatures of habit, after all, and many are far more comfortable simply ordering what they know. Again, as with songs, these "deep cuts" are frequently the more interesting and rewarding compositions on a menu.

Back in May, Mai Pham referenced a few of these semi-obscure menu items while writing about good introductory dishes for Vietnamese cuisine. I eat Vietnamese food quite often; my kids are phở junkies. I seem to get stuck in ruts, though, ordering the same handful of dishes over and over again. When Mai came out swinging so strongly for Cá Kho Tộ, calling it one of her "favorite traditional Vietnamese dishes that require a more adventuresome palate," I decided I had to check it out.

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All photos by Mai Pham

Crispy fried pork intestines at Kiki Cafe, a Taiwanese specialty

Last week, when a I took a friend to try authentic Taiwanese food at Kiki Café (9126 Bellaire Blvd at Ranchester, Tel: 713-772-8883), he took one look at the appetizer menu and said "I'm gonna have the fried pork intestines." I looked at him questioningly, thinking he was joking, while he grinned from ear to ear. "Gotta get the weirdest thing on the menu," he said without batting an eyelash.

Gosh, how I love eating with someone who's not afraid to try something new.

Kiki Café is one of those places where you order from the counter, and when I told the Taiwanese owner what my friend wanted to order, it was her turn to smile. "Really?" she asked excitedly. "We make it good for you, don't worry," she said, obviously tickled pink by the fact that the only non-Asian person in the restaurant would be willing to try this rather unusual dish.

When it came out, the golden yellow, crispy fried intestines had been sliced thinly, resembling fried beignets or donuts. The taste, when you bit into it, was mild but had a hint of Chinese spices, and the texture was extra light with a very slight hint of chewiness. It was kind of like a fried calamari, but much thinner and less rubbery in texture, more like fried air. It came with a sweet and salty sauce, similar to a hoisin. And it was pretty awesome, if you like that sort of thing. My friend sure did. "I love it," he proclaimed as he noshed enthusiastically on the intestines.

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Brennan's Creole Bread Pudding

Last week, Christine Ha gave us some tips on what to do with all those leftover hotdog buns from the 4th. That's when EOW reader CameronByars chimed in with her two cents -

"Hot dog buns are also great for making bread pudding, as they are sweeter than other breads."

"Really?" I thought. I never made bread pudding and was under the impression you had to use artisan quality bread to turn out a decent dish. However, after some Googling, Cameron's tip didn't seem all that unusual. Still, I was curious to 1. make bread pudding and 2. see how these hot dog buns would hold up.

In contemplating what recipe I'd use, my eyes were immediately drawn to my bookshelf, where a copy of Houston Classic Desserts sits. And inside was recipe for Brennan's Creole Bread Pudding. Their recipe normally calls for 14 slices of day old French bread. Could a package of old hot dog buns compete?

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