Pucky Sammiches

i feel like I missed some episode to understand how this came up,...
 
I won’t be going into any fast food burger joint with you guys, or ill be very careful.. can just imagine what happens when they screw up your hamburger ‘plain please“ order with puck. More fun yet, maybe one of the camera guys can slip a little pucky in a sandwich- and get the full response, expressions and all recorded.
 
Gravy, being derived from the meat itself, cannot and must not be defined as pucky.

Jackpot!

Do you think broth is pucky? No.

Do you think stock is pucky? No.

Gravy is the final utilization of those most heavenly of flavors that tried to escape, only to be captured in the bottom of the roasting pan. And almost no flour to be added, less one start his first steps down that torturous path of pucky.
 
I won’t be going into any fast food burger joint with you guys, or ill be very careful.. can just imagine what happens when they screw up your hamburger ‘plain please“ order with puck. More fun yet, maybe one of the camera guys can slip a little pucky in a sandwich- and get the full response, expressions and all recorded.

We should film a sequence of me when the crew does coerce me to stop at Subway (I don't do fast food burger or taco joints).

Server, "Can I make you a sandwich?"

Fin, "Yeah, I'll take the six-inch turkey on wheat."

Server, "OK, do you want that toasted?"

Fin, with a sideways look of who would toast a turkey sandwich, "Nah, no need to toast it."

Server passes it to the next person who asks, "What all ya want on this?"

Fin, "A little cheese, some shredded lettuce, and a few cuke slices would be good."

Server does just that, then asks, "You want any mustard or other condiments."

Fin, trying not to sound aghast, "Nope. That stuff kills a lot of people. I'm allergic to all of it. I doubt you want me to die right here on your floor and make a scene." (Note, I've done this enough that I can deadpan it and the server is not sure how to take my presentation, but they do seem to pay attention.)

Server, thinking they've done a great job, starts for the knife that was just used to cut the camera guy's sandwich and is still dripping with some sort of el cheapo high volume honey mustard remnants. I've come to expect this lapse of judgement on their part.

Fin quickly raises his voice, "Hey. Hey! You wanna kill me?"

Server looks up, completely surprised, "What's that?"

Fin, now trying to control his blood pressure, retorts, "I told you I'm allergic to that stuff. If you cut my sandwich with it, I might die right here. Trust me, my mom had a little diner and an obese 84 year-old died of a heart attack one Sunday morning. Having people die on restaurant your floor isn't good for business."

The camera guys are doing all they can to not laugh, knowing I'm about half-pissed at this point. They grab their sandwiches, head for the truck, and let me pick up the tab.

By the time I'm to the truck, I'm completely pissed that once again these guys talked me into stopping at a sandwich joint that almost results in a death. They know it and act as if we are each in our own separate universe.

I continue my unrecognizable rumblings as I put it in gear and drive off, the camera guys knowing full well to not say much. I roll down the windows as we merge on to the interstate, holding firm to my promise that if people eat stinky pucky in my truck, expect to do so with the windows down, no matter the temp or time of year.

Wanting to remind the crew how much I hate pucky, I keep the windows down for an extra hour. The crew doesn't suggest a sub sandwich for at least another month.
 
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We should film a sequence of me when the crew does coerce me to stop at Subway (I don't do fast food burger or taco joints).

Server, "Can I make you a sandwich?"

Fin, "Yeah, I'll take the six-inch turkey on wheat."

Server, "OK, do you want that toasted?"

Fin, with a sideways look of who would toast a turkey sandwich, "Nah, no need to toast it."

Server passes it to the next person who asks, "What all ya want on this?"

Fin, "A little cheese, some shredded lettuce, and a few cuke slices would be good."

Server does just that, then asks, "You want any mustard or other condiments."

Fin, trying not to sound aghast, "Nope. That stuff kills a lot of people. I'm allergic to all of it. I doubt you want me to die right here on your floor and make a scene." (Note, I've done this enough that I can deadpan it and the server is not sure how to take my presentation, but they do seem to pay attention.)

Server, thinking they've done a great job, starts for the knife that was just used to cut the camera guy's sandwich and is still dripping with some sort of el cheapo high volume honey mustard remnants. I've come to expect this lapse of judgement on their part.

Fin quickly raises his voice, "Hey. Hey! You wanna kill me?"

Server looks up, completed surprised, "What's that?"

Fin, now trying to control his blood pressure, retorts, "I told you I'm allergic to that stuff. If you cut my sandwich with it, I might die right here. Trust me, my mom had a little diner and an obese 84 year-old died of a heart attack one Sunday morning. Having people die on restaurant your floor isn't good for business."

The camera guys are doing all they can to not laugh, knowing I'm about half-pissed at this point. They grab their sandwiches, head for the truck, and let me pick up the tab.

By the time I'm to the truck, I'm completely pissed that once again these guys talked me into stopping at a sandwich joint that almost results in a death. They know it and act as if we are each in our own separate universe.

I continue my unrecognizable rumblings as I put it in gear and drive off, the camera guys knowing full well to not say much. I roll down the windows as we merge on to the interstate, holding firm to my promise that if people eat stinky pucky in my truck, expect to do so with the windows down, no matter the temp or time of year.

Wanting to remind the crew how much I hate pucky, I keep the windows down for an extra hour. The crew doesn't suggest a sub sandwich for at least another month.
I'm beginning to understand your Lowery's Mild Taco Seasoning thing...
 
Well I guess Maple flavored icing on doughnuts is my version of "Pucky". So I see where he's coming from. I'm nearly as adamant that any dozen I pick from be Maple free...
Huh? What? No maple? What else is there? If I’m picking up a dozen there will be 10 minimum with maple. I knew the state of the union wasn’t pretty but after your comment I’d say we are in an all out freefall...
 
I am "auslander" from this belief system......As spoken above mayo is manna. In our house if we have one jar of mayo we are out!! Goes on all sammiches and ESPECIALLY with fries of any description. Further, as a German and having lived for a stint in the fatherland (including Oktoberfest in München), I could not imagine wursts without good, quality mustard. It goes like this : brotchen (fresh), wurst, senf (mustard). The mustard could be sweet if you are in Bavaria but I prefer mine scharf!! Weisskraut is acceptable. But don't ever.....I say again.....EVER consider putting ketchup on a wurst!!! The ONLY exception to that rule is if you are having a curry wurst from an Imbiss mit pommes frites.....the wurst will be cut into chunks and served in a paper boat with the frites, it is acceptable to it the CURRY ketchup sauce on both.

Fin, I mourn for all that you have missed from this misguided, ill-fated path of bland ;)
 
Well I guess Maple flavored icing on doughnuts is my version of "Pucky". So I see where he's coming from. I'm nearly as adamant that any dozen I pick from be Maple free...

No, No! You sit in the corner and think about what you've said!
 
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Only thing I like mayo with is tuna fish and coleslaw. Period. Why in the world would one mess up a burger with mayo, for shame.

Mayo, mustard, and pickles are the evil trifecta of char grilled goodness.
 
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