Yeah. I prefer my Whiz to be of the artisanal kind.

It was benign.

Grilled flatbread cracker.

Be sure to grill the flatbread, too, for extra yummy holyshitthatsgoodness.

Grilled brie owns my soul.

Maybe Baskin-Robbins could cross-market with Dr. Pimple Popper.

Picked up an orange model from the clearance table at Williams-Sonoma about 10 years ago. Works like a charm, and it’s badass tangerine.

You had me at Air Fryer and Instant Pot. If you dip down into sous vide circulator, I may suffer a case of the vapors.

You had me at Air Fryer and Instant Pot. If you dip down into sous vide circulator, I may suffer a case of the…

Plastic, baby.

It’s the Browns. He’ll be Freddie Basements soon enough.

Something thin-bottled like a Riesling or an icewine would fit in that can.

Bump? No charge. Grinding is extra.

French Onion? As long as we’re eating it in tandem with an uber-American event like Super Bowl, you gotta take the recipe to Flavortown. And don’t skip on the Worcestershire sauce.

People on LinkedIn have been begging him for updates, too.

Dick move, braü.

They should serve this with a defibrillator and a diaper.

Here you go. All the stars.

As noted by one-sentence-paragraph-man Bruce Stroud of the Tampa Bay Times...

I know we’re all operating under the cloak of youth (relative), health (relative) and happiness (you know the drill), but I just bought Steak-Ums the other day for a mother-in-law who’s ill with cancer. She’s too weak to stand in the kitchen to prepare a long recipe, but damn if she can’t nuke some Steak-Ums. Been…

“...This would’ve been a really tough thing if it had happened in hard times, when things were really tough in 2009 and 2010 when I’d just taken on a $12 million debt.”