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Super Bowl snacks must rise above glistening cheeses, wilting vegetables



Let's just admit it. There's a problem with many Super Bowl parties.

Oh, the drinks are fine. The beer is cold. But the food?

The food sucks.

Unfortunately, in many homes, the Super Bowl food doesn't kind of suck, it totally sucks, and you know it the moment you walk in and see the tiny yellow chunks of cheese, sweating on paper plates.

And if we don't come to grips with this problem soon, our culture may be doomed.

Clearly, there is a reason for bad Super Bowl Party food: lazy cooks who don't even cook.

"Raw vegetable tray," tweeted reader Dan Lambert who hates the ubiquitous vegetable tray. (Crudites if you are fancy.) Deep-fry it or GET OUT!"

Sadly, Super Bowl hosts and hostesses have been brainwashed by evil corporate America to think all they have to do is order up deli or chunks of yellow cheese and stick stupid toothpicks in them and call it Super Bowl food.

That's not Super Bowl Food.

"Bacon wrapped Italian sausage stuffed jalapenos do NOT suck," said the noted west suburban foodie Vito Martino, as he monitored the progress of this column on Facebook.

No, they do not. There's nothing tastier than stuffed peppers.

But brave Mr. Martino, and a few other thought leaders, are fighting a desperate battle in a super sea of mediocrity.

Because millions of Americans do not do things the Vito Martino way. And a quick scan of Super Bowl snack ideas pushed on unsuspecting Americans by "the media" tells you so.

Lettuce on a stick. Why?

Kale chips? Why?

That stupid vegetable tray with the stupid ranch dressing that people stick their stupid thumbs into, and then you have to pretend that their thumbness isn't in there when you dip your own stupid chunk of raw broccoli?

Why?

And any dish that includes the word "festive" most likely sucks, too.

That's not celebrating the American tradition of cheering gladiators who bash in their brains to entertain the people and so bookies can get rich.

It's just caca on a tray. And that has to stop.

"I hate those long sub sandwiches, with the lettuce wilting and the shining cheese," said one guy. "They never look fresh."

Ah the shining cheese that sweats.

"Hate those stupid spinach dips in the bread bowls," he added. "And that also goes for anything that's supposed to be a cheese dip."

And then there are the commercials. The fact that we even talk about Super Bowl commercials makes me ill.

It's depressing to see once-free-thinking Americans sitting around the living room, their brains numbed by corporate advertising, thinking that CGI Clydesdales really can have heartwarming, emotional experiences.

And then there's always that one irritating guy who says: "Remember that dot-com commercial when they shot real live gerbils out of a cannon? Did the gerbils live? Or were they fake gerbils? They're probably fake, right?"

That's when my brothers say, "Shut up, John, they weren't real gerbils."

They sure sounded real when they thunked against the wall.

Another big Super Bowl problem is the "Super Bowl themed" party gear, as if we really need football napkins to tell us why we're dipping our thumbs into the ranch dressing.

We'd rather have chips, Mrs. Grass Onion soup dip mix and beer.

But we don't need meatloaf shaped like a football. Or lettuce wraps with tiny chunks of salami carved into pigskins.

Or guacamole made to look like a gridiron, with tiny cheeze-food bits representing players. That's scary.

The guacamole gridiron could have been inspired by Betty Crocker, if Betty Crocker had been kidnapped by a brutal gang of meth heads, before she dominated them and became their ruthless leader.

The problem of Super Bowl food sucking is an epidemic. Not as serious as the Zika virus, but serious enough.

Just ask your friends.

"I really hate hot wings that aren't hot," said my friend Old School. "The skin gets loose and soft. They're supposed to be crispy, dammit!"

Yes, they are supposed to be crispy. But they're not. And that's why people drink too much.

Knowing there are millions of you out there with the same tales of Super Bowl Themed Party Sucky Food Woe makes me sigh in sadness.

I've tried and tried to help you. Really.

Like Wings Meisner's Louisville Wings, which is how he got the name Wings. Nothing like bourbon-flavored wings dumped on a hot grill to crisp, then smothered in that spicy bourbon sauce.

Or the Greek baby-goat soup recipe we made at Chateau Ritz in Niles: the clear broth, the succulent tender goat, a ladle of rice, a squeeze of lemon. What else does an American need?

Or the famous "Pepper Treats," which aren't really called "Pepper Treats" but Texas Dragon (deleted).

A Tribune editor and my wife, Betty, got together and prohibited me from calling them Texas Dragon Turds in the paper.

Oops.

"I'm cooking your Kass peppers!" said reader Brian Kuhn.

"Me, too, those dinosaur (testicles) are the bomb!" insisted John H. Reedy.

If you follow me on Facebook you'll see many great Super Bowl suggestions from noted cooks such as Peter Bella the Cooking Cop and Margaret Cahill Lancaster.

But don't look for my braised lamb shanks, with orzo baked in the juices, which would be perfect for a Super Bowl.

That's for another time.

Go ('85) Bears.