So, the 2010 Coastal Carolina Fair rolled through town, and Katie and I made an appearance. I used to be a huge fan of the rides, but as the years went on and the lines got longer, my attentions turned toward making fun of some of the art in the exhibit halls, watching people throw away small fortunes on chances to win enormous stuffed animals, and, of course, the fair food. Last year's fair brought with it the introduction of fried butter. Let that sink in for a minute, and then try to wrap your head around it. A pat of butter, rolled in some kind of batter, and then deep fried. Clearly, I had to try it - one of man's greatest accomplishments, to be sure. I couldn't work up the nerve, however, and it haunted me for a year, hanging over my head like some kind of greasy, fat-laden ghost.
This year was going to be different. I went to the fair with the express purpose of trying anything I could find that sounded like it could appear on ThisIsWhyYoureFat. I had heard rumblings coming out of Columbia that Krispy Kreme burgers were seen in the wild, so I was optimistic. I tested my selections by telling Katie that I was thinking about ordering something. If she said "you're not really getting that, are you?" I knew that I was good to go.
First off, I had to confront my buttery nemesis. Walking up to the stand, we discovered that we could get the Super Sampler Platter: cheesecake, cookie dough, carrot cake, and of course butter, all deep-fried. How could we go wrong? We ordered our platter, and as we waited, I told Katie that I wouldn't think any less of her as a person after we tried fried butter. I was slightly disheartened when she didn't tell me the same, though I could certainly understand.
From left to right, we have cookie dough, carrot cake, and cheesecake. The butter sat on top, as if to taunt me by its very existence. We were delighted to find that cinnamon sugar had been sprinkled on the butter, the carrot cake glazed, and the cheesecake covered in cherries. It really pounded home the fact that this was one of the most unhealthy things that either of us had ever tried to eat.
We decided to eat the butter first, since it was probably the worst of the set and we didn't want to have the taste hanging around for the rest of the fair. I tried to take a picture, but it proved to be impossible - as soon as you bite into it, all of the melted butter floods into your mouth. It's horrifying, but the saltiness is offset by the cinnamon sugar. After the first bite, you're essentially left with a buttery shell. Overall, it wasn't awful. I didn't know what to expect, but that wasn't it. I give it a 4/10.
Next up was the cookie dough. Imagine the most sickeningly sweet thing you can, and then add chocolate to it. One bite into it, and I was finished. The texture is somehow granular but fluid, like what I imagine lava or molten sand would taste like. The cookie dough is just overpowering and, despite my best efforts, I couldn't bring myself to take another bite of it. 1/10.
The cheesecake tastes exactly like what you would expect cheesecake dipped into a fryer to taste like: hot cheesecake. Under normal circumstances, I absolutely love cheesecake. Heated up and wrapped in batter, however, are not normal circumstances. The texture was fine (like normal cheesecake, but runnier), but the temperature was completely wrong for the taste, and as a result I hated it. 2/10.
What did I learn from the Super Sampler Platter? That, against all odds, butter is a better candidate for being fried and eaten than a few other things. Also, that people should mostly stick to meats and some veggies for frying.
Next up, I wanted to eat some actual food. I couldn't break tradition, so I shopped around and found a Polish sausage stand.
I don't know why everybody always gets so grossed out about these. They're delicious, and a total 10/10. I took a break from eating at that point, partly because I wanted to walk around a little bit, and partly because I was entering a sugar coma from the fried cookie dough. After the break, however, it was time to seek out and conquer the beast.
I found a tiny, unassuming stand outside the agriculture hall. I would have kept walking, had it not been for the Krispy Kreme flags on top. It was time.
- A Krispy Kreme glazed donut
- Cheese (Velteeta-like)
- Hamburger patty
- Another glazed donut
For some reason, I was imagining that it was going to be very heavy and difficult to hold. It wasn't at all, and so we dug in.
It was...surprisingly good. The donut was really well offset by the bacon and patty, and almost a little fruity. The only complaint I had was that the cheese was too fake-tasting. I feel like a better cheese would have really enhanced the whole burger, and I'm tempted to make one at home to see if I'm right. Overall, I give it an 8/10. I was going to get a second one, but I hesitated long enough for my stomach to tell my brain that one was enough.
Overall, I came away satisfied, if not fearful for the future of my stomach. I think that the Krispy Kreme Burger has potential, and I plan to perfect it in the future. I can't wait to see what kind of fried foods next year's fair holds. Hopefully, some genius will fry up a Krispy Kreme Burger and sell it.
(To read about the events leading up to this, check out Becoming a Jeopardy Contestant)
So, I was on my way to Greenville, driving around 70 down I-26, when my phone rang. "Is this Matthew Warren? This is Corina, with Jeopardy. Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?" "Uh, sure..." Basically, the entire form that I had signed at the Jeopardy auditions was read back to me. No, I wasn't related to anybody who worked for Jeopardy or Sony Pictures. No, I've never been on Jeopardy before. No, I've never been convicted of a felony. "Well, the reason I'm calling is that we'd like for you to be on Jeopardy. Are you available for taping on August 31 and September 1?" "I don't know off the top of my head, but I'm pretty sure I can make myself available if this isn't a prank call." I was told to check and to call back as soon as I knew something for sure. I called SPAWAR: nothing going on. I texted Katie: nothing. I called Mom: nope. Immediately, I called Corina back and told her that I'd be there.
At this point, the steering wheel was really the only thing keeping my hands from shaking off of my arms. When asked if I had a paper and pencil handy to write some information down, I saw an oil change receipt on the floor and a Sharpie in the change tray. Sure! I don't know why I didn't ask if I could call her back, or pull off of the interstate, or anything sensible like that, but I eventually emerged with a grease-smeared piece of paper marked with barely-legible phone numbers, information about guests I could bring, and discounted hotels to call for a room. Thank God for cruise control.
A couple of days later, I received my packet of forms in the mail. Once again, I reaffirmed that I wasn't, in any way, shape, or form, connected to anybody at Jeopardy. I signed a massive packet detailing that there was no guarantee that I'd receive any money for appearing, I couldn't cheat while on the show, etc., etc. After that, they fished for facts for the interview portion. This was, by far, the hardest part of the entire process. Try this: come up with 10 interesting stories about you that you would want told on national TV. Then, come up with 10 more. It's tough. I faxed everything back and passed the time until the end of the month. Originally, the news was supposed to be held to close friends and family. Clearly, that wasn't going to happen. After a while, it just became part of my introduction to people I didn't know - "Hey, this is Matthew. He's going to be on Jeopardy." Everybody had the same questions. "Are you nervous?" (really?) "Do they pay your way out there?" (not directly) "Oh man, did you see that one guy who won all that money?" (yep) After a while, the novelty wore off, and I was really ready to get the whole thing over with.
So, we flew to LA. Katie flew out of Charlotte and met Mom, Dad, and me in Atlanta. Once I got to LAX, I quit preparing. I had been brushing up on classical music, art history, British and American literature (thanks, Mr. Moore), and a few other subjects in the weeks before my trip, but I was finished at that point. Whatever I didn't know, I didn't know. We did the tourist thing for a couple days, and then Tuesday rolled around. Dad dropped me off at the security gates in front of Sony Pictures, I checked in, and then waited for the rest of the contestants to arrive. Apparently, I was the only one who didn't stay at the Radisson the night before. They offer a discounted rate for contestants (and a shuttle to the studio), but reviews were lacking. I was a little surprised at how young the contestants were; the majority seemed to be in their mid 30s - 40s. We walked over to the studio as a group, hung up our clothes in the green room, and found our seats based on the forms in front of them. More forms!
We dutifully filled out a few more sheets of paper. I have absolutely no recollection of what they were. My stomach was basically doing laps all around my body at this point, and much of the day is a blur. Maggie Speak entered, and proceeded to simultaneously calm us down and get us energized to be on the show. She was absolutely fantastic at her job, as were the rest of the contestant coordinators that we interacted with. I really can't say enough about how well we were treated all day long. While she was telling us various rules and quirks of the game, the group was being taken one by one into the makeup room. I was made to look a little tanner, since they didn't want the reflection of the lights off of my ridiculously pale skin to destroy the cameras. I can recall about 5 minutes' worth of what Maggie said out of the 2-ish hours that we were back there. Once everybody was made up, we were led onto the set for rehearsal.
I was at the front of the line to be led onto the set, and I'm really not sure what I was expecting. It's exactly how it looks on TV, and I don't know why I would think otherwise. Everything is extremely shiny and blue. The TV wall where the clues are displayed isn't all that big, but it's completely overwhelming when you're standing in front of it. The entire experience was just mind-numbing...to watch it on TV for so long, and then to walk out of the green room, down a small corridor, and it's just there. Once the initial shock wore off (and you could see it on everybody's faces), we sat down in the contestant area and played a few questions in groups of threes. We got to practice writing our name with the light pen (which I really had trouble with) and buzzing in, and were generally acquainted with the way things happened.
There are some lights on either side of the game board that you can't see on TV. Once the buzzers are activated, they light up. However, I learned early on that if you wait for the lights to come on to ring in, you'll be beaten every time. The key is to learn the cadence between when the question is finished, and when the buzzers are activated. The same guy controls the activator during rehearsal as during the show, so I made sure to concentrate more on this than on answering questions. I was already there; I didn't need to impress anybody anymore. By the time the end of rehearsal rolled around, I could beat the other contestants 4/5 times.
After our rehearsal, we went back to the green room. I had to change my tie because it didn't look great on camera (sorry, MH Frank). The returning champion had to change his coat, despite wearing it on the show before. It was really interesting to watch everybody bond during these few hours. Everybody was just as nervous as the next person, and the whole group coalesced into...not really friends, but something close. During this time, we practiced our "Hometown Howdies." Basically, they're little video clips of each contestant saying something corny about their hometown that Sony sends to local stations to promote their appearance on the show. My understanding is that virtually none of them are used.
Once the audience was loaded in, we were released back out of the green room, and the first two competitors were decided. Nobody knows who's going to play which game until right before the game. The contestant coordinators write each person's name on an index card, spread them out on a table face-down, and pick at random. I wasn't chosen at first, so I went to sit in the audience with the other contestants. Right before we came out of the green room, they told us that, even though our guests would be sitting literally ten feet away from us, we couldn't make eye contact with them, look at them, or even acknowledge that they were there. If we did, we would be disqualified. They told our guests, too. It was a little nerve-racking, but effective - we all filed in, went to our seats, and didn't dare turn our head or shift our gaze.
The first game was uneventful, and I can't really discuss what happened. Afterward, we filed back into the green room. Everybody called the current champion "Champ" and never used their real name. We drank some water, used the bathroom (I must have used it 15 times before my taping), and waited for the next two names to be picked. Cards were drawn, and I filed back into my audience seat. Game two ended, and the process repeated. I watched game three from the audience. I tapped my finger against my knee after every question to practice the buzzer during each taping. I noticed that I was beating the guy sitting next to me every time, so I was feeling pretty good about things. After game three, we went to lunch.
On our walk over to the Sony cafeteria, Owen Wilson rode by us on a bike. I had such ridiculous tunnel vision at that point that I didn't even notice until everybody else said something. Stanley Tucci was eating lunch at a table directly to our right when we entered, but again, my brain was just not in "look around and enjoy things" mode. I managed to choke down a sandwich, a few chips, and a juice bottle, and then we headed back into the fray. We rehearsed a little bit, sat back in our audience seats, and then names were called - mine included. I had always been curious as to how they decide who stands at podium 2, and who is at podium 3. Turns out, there are two index cards, and each contestant picks one. Which one they get determines where they stand. Quite exciting, this computer magic.
We headed back to the green room to be re-made up and to take one final bathroom break. I remember standing in the bathroom, looking in the mirror, and trying to center myself and calm down. It reminded me too much of Dirk Diggler at the end of Boogie Nights (with one big difference), so I gave up and went back to the set. I took my place behind podium 2, they adjusted the lifts behind the podiums so that everybody was roughly the same height, and away we went.
Way back in...January, I think, I found out that Jeopardy was doing online tests again. I had passed my College Jeopardy test and even made it to an audition, but nothing ever came of that. I registered to take the test on a Tuesday, brushed up on a few things, and completely forgot about it. Tuesday night, it finally hit that I had missed the test, so I went online to see if there would be others. Luckily, I could test on Wednesday. Wednesday night rolled around, and I sat down, ready to go. Basically, you get 50 questions in a row, all from different categories, mostly from the bottom levels of those categories (second hardest/hardest). You have (I think) five seconds to type in your answer, with no "who is" or "what is," and then the test moves to the next question. No indication of your being right or wrong, no encouragements, nothing...just you and a question. I felt pretty great about my test, and a list of answers and questions posted on the Jeopardy forums told me that I had scored a little better than 80%.
So, I waited. One day in late March, I got an e-mail. I had officially been invited to come up to Raleigh in June to audition! I immediately made arrangements to have a day off of work, and read some accounts online as to what exactly the audition would entail. It didn't appear to be any different than the College Jeopardy audition, so I wasn't all that nervous. I booked a hotel, packed my sport coat and an orange and purple-striped tie, and headed up to Raleigh.
First off, I signed in. It was very easy to find the conference room where the Jeopardy auditions were, because milling around outside is a large group of people who look exactly like the type of people you'd expect to try out for Jeopardy. I signed my soul away to Sony Pictures (with a complimentary Jeopardy pen) and took a seat next to a middle-aged woman and man. We made small talk for about an hour, and then everybody had to line up down the sides of a hallway. The Jeopardy contestant team came out, introduced themselves, and simultaneously tried to put us at ease and pump us up for the audition. Polaroids of each contestant were taken, and then we were ushered into the audition room.
Another 50 question test awaited. Basically, they want to make sure that you didn't have help on the online test. From what I read online, only people who passed this test were invited to audition further in years past. Now, everybody continues past the written test, but it is graded later and cuts are made after the audition. You get a sheet of 50 blanks, and a recorded Johnny Gilbert (the announcer) reads you questions. 5 seconds pass, and then the next question starts. You can go back to answer something you passed, but it's tricky. I felt fantastic about the written test. Pop culture was everywhere, I was positive on the first 25 questions, and a quick count at the end revealed that I only guessed at about 8 questions. After the tests are collected, we had approximately 15 minutes to get some water, stretch our legs, talk to the other potential contestants, etc. The coordinators came back in and called three people at a time to the front for a mock game and interview.
Of course, I was the last person called. Once I got up to the front, they explained how to use the buzzers (signaling devices, if you want to be proper about it), and how they work on the show. Basically, contestants have to wait for Alex to finish reading the question before they can buzz in. There's a guy sitting at the producers' table who activates the buzzers. If the button is pressed too early, that contestant is locked out for a quarter of a second - which is why, if you watch the show, you'll see people frantically pressing the button. Once that lockout period is done, the buzzer is reactivated. They encouraged me to press the button as many times as I could for the best chance of success. One of the categories I could choose from was "Musical Numbers" - and despite not being a fan of Broadway by any stretch of the imagination, I had to try it. The clues were all band names who had performed a song with number in the title, and we had to provide the number. I ran the category - Tony Orlando & Dawn's "Knock Three Times" and U2's "One" are the only pairs I can remember. I was pretty confident on the buzzer, I made sure not to bounce around like some of the other potentials were doing, and I spoke loudly and clearly - and most importantly, I smiled and reacted when something happened.
After the mock game, we were interviewed in front of everybody. Once again, I took care to enunciate and to keep myself still. It was hard to believe how many people were up there bouncing around, shifting back and forth, or constantly fidgeting. Since I was going last, I had plenty of time to rehearse my answers in my head. "What do you do at your job?" "What are your hobbies?" "What would you do if you won a ton of money?" I had to distinguish myself from everybody else to be memorable. Everybody says the thing for what they'd do if they were rich - travel. "Ha ha, if I told you what I did every day, I'd have to kill you." "Oh, I play a lot of bar trivia, I just bought a house that I'm slowly remodeling, I try to play golf even though I'm terrible at it, and I'm building my own arcade machine." "Well, first off, I'd have to give some money to my church. After that, I'd probably buy my girlfriend a ring, and then I'd buy a boat and we'd see how far around the world we could get." I got a reaction on almost everything I said, and I made sure to provide enough detail that they didn't have to prod me to keep talking. Game shows want people with personality, so I made sure to provide some.
Afterwards, they answered a few questions, thanked everybody for coming, and said goodbye. I got back in my car, headed to a store that sold beer I can't buy in South Carolina, and headed back home. I felt good about the audition, but only 10% of people who make it to an audition get chosen to be on the show, so I wrote it off as a fun day spent away from work and didn't think any more about it until I got a call from a 213 area code on the way to Greenville one weekend. I had no idea who'd be calling me from a 213 number, much less what city it was. Turns out, 213 is the area code for Los Angeles - which includes Hollywood.
(To read about the rest of the story, check out The Jeopardy Experience)
I've had our beer bottled for about two weeks now, but lots has happened in those two weeks and, as a result, my blog has suffered. Solid Orange American Wheat has successfully been transformed from this:
First off, I had to collect some bottles. I haven't had good beer in months because of my low-carb diet, so I had to go scrounge in other places. Laura Alberts was good enough to donate 12 bomber bottles, I had saved a couple up, and my cousin came through with a few Heineken bottles from a weekend on the boat. I was planning on labeling them myself, so the stickers had to come off.
After a few minutes soaking, they came right off. I ran them through the dishwasher afterward, and put some sanitizer into the detergent compartment so that they'd all be sanitized. This had the added benefit of making my dishwasher smell nice. While they were being dried, I got the beer ready to be moved into its final destination. First off, I had to transfer it into a bottling bucket so that the sediment didn't get reintegrated into the beer.
They sat in the guest room for a couple weeks, and then they were ready for initial tasting. First, though, I had to make a label. I whipped this up in Photoshop, printed it on some stick-on labels, and then they were ready to go:
The first tasting was interesting. There's not nearly as much orange as I was hoping there would be, and it's a little watery. I'm going to let it sit for a little while longer though, as both of those things should improve over time. The overall taste is very enjoyable, and I'm pretty impressed with how it turned out. Hopefully, it'll hit its prime right in the middle of football season.
I've brewed beer once before, with Elliott and Johny, and it seemed to turn out pretty well - but only after letting our Double IPA sit in my parents' basement for a little over a year. I wanted to try again, and so Katie gave me a homebrew setup for my birthday this year. Tailgating season is fast approaching, and I wanted to try to brew something that would be ready for the first game. Enter: Northern Brewer's American Wheat Extract Kit! The original plan was to do an orange-infused Kolsch, but that kit takes six weeks to complete. Football is only four weeks away, so we switched gears to an orangey American Wheat. Hopefully, this'll turn out something along the lines of a more orangey Blue Moon.
I hadn't really messed with the kit beforehand, so we had to go through and mark gallon measurements on both of the carboys. I'm sure there was a more efficient way to do this, but 11 gallons later, we were ready to go.
The full extract kit was almost disappointingly simple. Basically, all we had to do was pour some stuff in a huge kettle and wait. The kit came with a little half-gallon jug of what they called a "wheat and barley syrup." Last time I brewed, I remember putting barley and malt in a pantyhose-looking bag and letting it steep, just like you would tea. Next time, I think I'm going to go full grain. We'll see how this one turns out, I guess.
After letting the Willamette hops boil in the wort for about 45 minutes, we added some Cascade hops and the zest of four oranges. This boiled for another 15 minutes, and then it was cooldown time. The kettle dominated the sink full of ice water that I had prepared, so we had to resort to the frozen beer pong cupholders that I had in the beer fridge.
The wort had finally cooled down enough that it wouldn't melt a carboy, so it was time to bottle it up and add the yeast. We added some water to bring the concoction back up to 5 gallons, poured in the fermentation fuel, added another 4 oranges' worth of zest, and capped the carboy up with a blowoff valve. I hung a blanket over the window of the guest bedroom and stuck it in there so that it'd be dark and cool for a couple weeks.
So far, everything seems to be good. If you put your nose right above the blowoff and inhale, you definitely get a strong orange smell. I'm very optimistic at this point. 2 weeks from now, it'll be bottling time, and after a couple weeks of bottle conditioning, they'll be ready to (hopefully) enjoy. The North Texas game will be exactly 4 weeks from initial brew, so I guess we'll see what happens. Can't be worse than Shock Top.
My kitchen was a total grandma kitchen. Off-white cabinets, a single fluorescent light fixture down the middle of the ceiling, tiny little oven not located under the stove, white laminate countertops...not really what I want. Katie and I decided that we'd tackle a remodeling job, and the kitchen seemed like the best candidate. New countertops, new fridge, painted cabinets, new lighting...it could happen. First up was cabinets, because that seemed easy enough. Some new paint, new hardware, and they'd be good to go. I numbered the doors with masking tape, drew up a little map to remind myself of which doors went where, and began to tear everything down.
Disassembly went well. We emptied all the cabinets quickly enough. The hinges and knobs came off in less than an hour, and since we were going to try for the nice European-style concealed hinges and some fancy new IKEA LANSA handles, clearly all of the holes had to be filled and sanded. Massive quantities of wood filler were utilized. Katie and I knocked out the painting of the frames in a weekend. We even painted the door into the garage and the one kitchen window. It looked great. I bought a Bosch random orbital sander that was a ton of fun to play with, and I filled my eating area with cabinet doors. For some reason, the amount of sheer area that the doors would take up never crossed my mind, but I now know that you could probably roof a house with the wood necessary to build 23 cabinet doors.
Many a night was spent putting coats of Bistro White paint on these boards. The frustrating thing about painting white over pale yellow is that it never really looks any different, so it's difficult to see what the final product might look like. After the paint dried, it was time to try the 5/8" overlay, face frame hinges that I had bought from Home Depot. I had done my homework on concealed hinges, so I was pretty sure that I could handle it.
Nope. My cabinets had a 3/8" overlay. I trucked the hinges back to Home Depot, looked around, and realized that they didn't sell the 3/8" variety. Rockler to the rescue! I bought 22 packs of these bad boys and waited a week with baited breath. The night they came, I raced home from work and drilled out a sample cabinet. After hanging it on the frame, I quickly realized that these were completely wrong. Apparently, I needed these - and for $25 a pair, that wasn't happening.
Option #2 was semi-concealed hinges. "Use on doors with 3/8 lip," it says. What it doesn't say is that these hinges will move the door over 1/8" and shift the door out of the frame an equal amount, so it won't close all the way. Box #2 was heading back to Rockler. Home Depot had a few boxes of self-closing hinges that looked identical to the shiny gold numbers I removed, so I drove over in a huff, bought all that I could find, and came back to the house to discover that they too shifted the door out of the frame.
Clearly, this wouldn't work. The hinges went back in the bag and back to Home Depot where I was laughed at by the girl working the Returns counter. "Next time, you should only buy one or two to see if they work." Sage advice, to be sure. I ended up buying the exact same hinges that were on the cabinets in the first place, but in a satin nickel finish this time. All of the hole-puttying and sanding was for naught, at least in the hinge area.
Finally, it was time for hardware. I made a delightful little template out of cardboard and a ruler that I taped to the store-bought template, which proved to be too small to accommodate the gigantic handles we had picked out. After trying it out on some scrap wood, I nervously drilled through the first door, set up the handle, and...it actually fit. It was straight, the holes were in the right place, and the planets aligned. It couldn't have taken more than two hours to mark and drill the holes and attach the handles to the entire kitchen.I'm currently working on screwing in all the little magnetic plates that hold the cabinet doors shut, since some moron didn't take the time to level them all when he hung them on the frames.
The observant reader will note that two doors are not hung. The cabinet door on the bottom is the one that I had experimented with concealed hinges on, and as a result had two enormous holes in the back that had to be reputtied. The door on the top, for some reason, won't go back into its spot. It's like the microwave has swollen on top, and so I'm not really sure what to do there. I might fix it one day.
My webspace has been stagnant for too long. The Internet needs more ramblings, inconsequential stories, and random musings, and I feel like I'm just the guy to add them. Enjoy them.