Sunday, September 30, 2007

Angry Big MFMan Calls Out "Angry Little Man": Who's the Bigger Man?

As you may remember, possums, a debate of culinary-theological import has been raging: Hath Hung a soul or hath he not? Thus far, there has been no Bartolomé de las Casas to plead on his behalf, no Paul III to issue a papal bull declaring he has a soul.

Until now.

All at once, Hung Huynh is neither automaton nor heathen, for none other than Brian MFMalarkey, he of the soul patch, has stepped forward to attest to the existence of Hung's soul.

Hung has a soul, MFMalarkey concedes to Grub Street, but it's a "really young, immature soul. He’s not focused on the right things in life."

(Such as "luxury living," "gold," "diamonds and jewels," and "CA$H money"? Are those "the right things in life"?)

Continuing his disquisition, Brian says, "There’s no point in being an asshole, and that’s how he comes off. When he was watching CJ die cooking at the airport, I was like, 'Hung, help CJ,' and he just sat there and washed his knife, and I was like, 'Oh, you little asshole.' I think he’s an angry little man."

Well, with all that washing, Hung's knife must be shinier than the pot and the kettle, n'est-ce pas?

At any rate, possums, do be sure to read the interview, in which Brian manages the, er, hat trick of being condescending to cowboys ("I didn’t want to scare them with fancy words and chocolate sauce.") and implying Bobby Flay is not "a refined, amazing chef." Well-done and well-braised, possum!

1 comment:

Lisa said...

I went the most amazing Bobby Flay's Mesa Grill and had the most incredible blue crab and corn-mill crusted fried green tomato. Believe me, I am picky about good blue crab. It was so delicious. Everything else about "LV" was so horrific. I've said it before - This literally is "Hotel California" -- The album. For Brian to diss Bobby Flay makes me suspect. It was way better then Miss XaXa and Java Junkie's experience in Craft (Dallas). The only part of LV I liked was this restaurant. Not being a gambler or into a lot of alcohol. This just wasn't my city. I could never get out of it. (Long story - but fits with the Hotel California song).