Since when is there a condiment revolution? – Specialty Mayo Shoppe to Open in Brooklyn

According to Sam Mason, most likely a spoiled hip/yup transplant foodie - there is a “condiment revolution” happening in NYC. In other words Sam is trying to convince us that the average New Yorker is picketing and protesting at various supermarkets against Hellman’s, Heinz, and other everyday condiment companies. People are dumping all the sauces and spreads in their refrigerators into the harbor in revolt! Simply put…..the citizens of New York City WANT AN OVERPRICED SPECIALTY YE OLDE MAYO SHOPPE - and Sam Mason is going to give us what we want. He will be opening a high-end mayo store called Empire Mayonnaise Shop in Prospect Heights, Brooklyn because, well, what we need is coffee flavored mayo, don’t we? Sam will devise a new flavor every week with his infinite amount of leisure time. When I calculate the pretension, smugness, location and target clientele, I figure the cost of covering two sandwiches with this artisanal mayo will be somewhere between $7 – $15 dollars.

I can see it now, Phobe and Brice coming home from early-weekday afternoon urban exploration and an adult Simon Says tournament to their $2,400 a month 120 year old apartment with a bag full of yummy yuppy artisanal delightfulness such as a $4.00 baguette, sliced tofurkey, locally sourced breast milk cheese, and fresh rainbow kale and and fall squash grown on top of the letter K of the Kentile Floor Sign – because industrial building rooftop farming is so 2010. Now it’s trendy and chic to grow vegetables on billboards and old advertising structures. So anyway, they are almost home but realize we are in the middle of the “Great Condiment Revolution” so they jump back on their vintage Schwinns and head on over to the quaint yet quirky Ye Olde Mayo Shoppe to purchase a few jars from the selection of flavors such as, coffee, foie gras, mushroom, whiskey and pigeon feces, cacao and urine, and balsamic cage free chicken blood.

As always, just when you think these hipster fucks have figured out and succeeded the implementation of the most childish and idiotic ideas into our great city – they strike again. Oh, and if you are a hipster and are proud of this fact, just know that the average real New Yorker wants to punch you in the face.

Link: Grub Street NY – High-End Mayo Shop (really?) to open in Brooklyn, land of all things artisanal.

123 thoughts on “Since when is there a condiment revolution? – Specialty Mayo Shoppe to Open in Brooklyn

  1. Mayo. Fucking mayo. One of the easiest condiments on the planet to make. It’s essentially water, oil, and a touch of egg yolk. It’s one of the most basic bits of food science you can come across, and they’re making it out as if they’ve just squared the circle.

    If there’s a bright side, it’s in the fact that I’m a spicy foods junkie. I’m not one of those assholes who pipes up in a Thai restaurant “There ain’t no pepper too hot for me to eat,” but I love the heat all the same. We’ve got a big spicy foods show just outside of Dallas called Zest Fest that runs every January, and the best thing about it is that it’s the only food-related event in all of Texas, other than barbecue and chili cookoffs, that isn’t completely overrun with hipsters. Oh, lots of guys still proudly showing off their bike gang tattoos, but they’re also making some of the best damn spicy sauces you’ve ever tasted.

    And the reason why it’s not overrun with hipsters? It’s not just because fucking with Bhut Jolokias can be dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing. Any idiot can make up a habanero sauce that can peel the enamel off your teeth, and many do. It takes skill, talent, and imagination, though, to make up some of the more subtle concoctions you find at ZestFest, and those three things are never found among self-appointed hipster “foodies”. Besides, when you’ve got this much food and this much heat, the aisles are packed solid, which means less room for Zach and Cody to ride their bikes up and down the aisles and cry “LOOK AT ME LOOK AT ME LOOK AT ME!” If they did, they’d get a handful of horseradish right in the eyes.

    • What are these guys going to do for a schooner? They’ll need a vessel to import the free trade mayonnaise beans from Madagascar that the ethnic people grew for them.

      What will they use?

      An art raft?


      • They could ask for volunteers to participate in a performance art project. Tie the No. 2 pencil-physiqued yahmen first class recruits together and VOILA! An art raft.

      • Like schooners are so two weeks ago. They’d probably use an authentic paddle boat steamer with the entire crew dressed like extras from “Gone With The Wind”. Like TTR said – mayo is the simplest condiment to make. The fact that no sane investor would back such a dumb ass business venture. I can for Ye Olde Artisanal String Shop and Nieuw Amesterdam Cupping and Purging Emporium. Personally, I’d invest in The Bruekelen Charnel Haus so long as it was full of half burnt fedoras

        Gotta go…The latest shipment’s coming in! Overpirced artisanal mayo for all!

        • Good catch, Pat. And: what Trif said.

          Here’s my recommendation:

          Do some research on “Sam Mason,” and see if he’s not a hipster from Wisconsin, specificially Madison, who got the idea there.

          The Mt. Horeb Mustard Museum dates to the 1980s. It was founded by a yuppie bastard–a lawyer no less–who retired in the early ’90s to “devote himself to collecting mustards.” I don’t mean the plant–that would at least have some agronomic value. No, the condiments.

          If I remember correctly, he in turn was a transplanted NYCer.

          Which goes back to what I said the other day. As much as I feel for youse New Yorkers dealing with hipster vermin, a lot of it is just yer own cockroaches coming home to roost after a generation or two of being gone and refining itself in Wischigansotanois. (You don’t think it was an ACCIDENT that the Democrats inserted Barack Obama into the midwest, to gain the minimal Congressional experience needed to run for POTUS, do you? We’re talking about major demographic engineering here.)

          By the late 1980s, the small towns and farmlands of Wisconsin were absolutely polluted by these upscale easterners coming in and taking over with their Boomer bling. Many went there to school and never left, because it was easier to take advantage of the public teat than to go back home and grapple there for a living. This is how come all of a sudden you needed a master’s degree to apply for a job washing lab flasks: those in charge systematically drove out the working class, which was often more midwest-conservative, in order to make room for each others’ New York/Boston liberalism.

          As for “the mustard capital” (its sign says so), Mt. Horeb is in Madison’s county and was renowned for having turned its farmland over to being bedroom communities. Oh, I don’t mean tract houses–that’s BAD, and was kept out of that part of the county by and large. No, I mean two-income upscale greensters buying up 30, 50, 100 acres, parking a giant house atop it, driving two cars to Madison each day, and then proclaiming themselves Sustainable and Concerned For The Earth. Then they’d get all upset about the poor, poor farmers…and have rallies and Barn Concerts and stuff. While blingsquatting huge tracts of arable farmland. (In my view if someone buys agricultural land, they should have X years to turn it to agricultural uses. If they fail, they lose whatever they invested in it. And the land. Bub-bye, poseurs!)

          My Jurassic senses sniffeth cheddar in the Mayo Shoppe. And if I’m wrong, I’ve let you know about the Mustard Museum, which was really the beginning of the end for Bob La Follette’s worker’s paradise. That was when Preciousness arrived, was followed by gentrification, and most of us blue collar/strawneck/redneck types were shoved elsewhere. I’m pretty convinced that the supposed “rightward” turn of American politics derives from so many people, by now, having the experience of being gentrified out of their homes by people pretending to be “progressive.”

          • Out here the farmer’s hold the upper hand. They rape the yuppie dumbfucks anyway they can.

            And I’m glad for it.

            New Jersey is a farmer’s paradise. They do well here. The state promotes the crap out of them (and should).

            Our issue is with guidos and assholes from Philly and North jersey who want to “live in the country” (c’mon geniuses – we’re 20 minutes from Philly, Trenton, Camden..who are we kidding here?).
            As I mentioned in a previous post Lockheed Martin has a huge top secret facility here that deals with radar, antennas, SONAR, etc. They have a full size replica of a ship hull and superstructure that they use to install and test antennas.

            When developers started building McMansions on the farmland around the facility, the assholes moved in and in no time they started petitioning to have it removed deeming it an eyesore that was ruining property values.

            the state (and probably a few feds, no doubt) told them to go fuck themselves.

            But I digress.

            We have no shortage of family owned farms. A lot of them made the investment into turning their business into family themed places complete with petting zoos, hayrides, farm stands, areas for parties, restaurants, “ice cream stands, etc. Then there’s the petting zoo – mostly chickens, goats, sheep, pigs. Wanna feed them? why you can buy half a cup of feed for 2.00!

            To say that they rob these mutants blind is an understatement. And dumb as a turnip. They can’t seem to figure out how a 10 acre farm can grow tons of strawberries on such a little patch of ground…run out the back and check out the boxes that say “product of california”.

            For example..In seson i can get locally grown corn at any supermarket for practically nothing. these morons pay 2.00 and ear plus 10 bucks a piece for the tractor ride out to the field to pick their own.

            Then they come in – spend 18 bucks for a pie at the bakeshop, 3 bucks for coffee, 5 bucks for ice cream. then there’s the gift shop. One the weekends around this time they go pumpkin picking. the place around the corner from me fills up it’s parking lot (100 cars or so) and needs policemen to direct the overflow across the street to the local Middle school.

            Me? I take my kid to my parent’s place. The farmer’s out there hand us a basket and we pay less than what you’d pay at the market

          • Bwahahaha…an ex-inlaw of mine worked at that facility. If I’m remembering correctly that it’s the one that used to be RCA. During that…”marriage”…our phone was constantly tapped. Back then you could hear this little sort of side echo. My ex was a quaker hippie sort (big mistake, I admit it). I would always talk nice to whoever might be listening in. Figured they were just civil servants with boring-ass jobs.

            My salad years were spent ferrying over to our ancestral piney land to what used to be a fuckton of truck farms. Then John Kerry’s wife’s ex-husband and his family bought up huge…tracts of land…turned them into monocrop tomato farms…then turned THOSE into inflatable shithoods. There was also a huge selloff of farms up in the upscale Burlington County area. All these hippie Quakers who felt so much superior to everyone…agonizing over suddenly finding themselves bazillionaires for selling grandpa’s orchard’s for outrageous amounts to mafioso developers. That was after they got tired of slacking there for their hippie adolescences (which lasted till they were in their 30s; this hipster thing is nothing new). They all sold out. But they still presented themselves as hyper virtuous and anti capitalist and holier than thou.

            I know there’s still a lot of small farmers out there; used to advise various groups of them backwhen on “agricultural tourism.” You might actually know some of the folks I advised to fleece the idiots just as you say. Ahem.

            My favorite idea that never got used was to build a corn maze with a minotaur inside. Then steal all their SUVs for resale.

            Thanks, pat. Though I do have to blame you for our spending three fucking hours last night watching mummers clips on YouTube. Never occurred to me to look there before.

          • PS–”Minotaur” = “one piney with a Mosin Nagant carbine.”

    • Oh, and we can’t forget the dillholes commenting on this site, chirping “Don’t be such a killjoy.” Of course they’re thrilled with the idea, but don’t expect them to actually buy any of this overpriced Boudreaux’s Butt Paste. It’s so much fun for them to watch the place go under, and then cry about how Brooklyn is too unsophisticated to be the forefront of the condiment revolution if it can’t support culinary artists like these. (Again. Fucking mayo.)

      • A few years ago. I was wrote a business plan, but needed help. the numbers weren’t working out.
        My wife’s cousin suggested a weekend small biz seminar sponsored by the Small business administration and Rutgers University.

        The course was a godsend. although I did a pretty thorough job, after a few hours of listening to business owners I realized how much I failed to consider. It was the best 50 bucks i had ever spent.

        So…first day: I sipping on coffee and talking to a banker who happened to be one of the instructors.

        The Meghan and Josh walk in. They each had a couple of looseleaf pages folded in their pockets.

        This was their business plan. And most of it was sketches of logos.

        So the class starts. everyone brought notebooks and is taking copious notes. Meghan and Josh did not take notes. They didn’t even bring pens. They sat there giggling and talking to each other.

        Next day – one on one time with the experts. Next to me are the bed bug incubators.

        The first question they asked: What type of business are you interested in?

        The second question was; Do you have any experience.

        Josh and Meghan: A candymaking business
        No like..we don’t know anything about making candy.

        The look on the instructor’s face was precious. So he dug a little deeper. Retail or wholesale? Do you have people who know how to make candy? How will the business be financed? have you included your salaries as part of the monthly expense? What are your costs? machinery? packaging? Delivery vehicles? tax number? Property improvements? advertising budget? product line? have you made candy and given it out? what were the responses? do you have an accountant? Working Capital?

        “Uhhhhh. No…But we have some really cool ideas for a logo. These were done by my friend who’s an artist”.

        The poor guy was trying to hammer his point home. More questions.

        Meghan storms out crying while shouting “YOU”RE MEAN!!!

        Josh starts getting his back up. Like..this is our dream!? We’re getting the money from our parents.
        They know the risks!

        Not the thing to tell a guy who’s a self-made man.

        “Whoa – wait a minute” says, the instructor. “I don’t care how how much money you have, but it’s you’re responsibility to not piss it away. You come here asking for my help in a business that you know nothing about. If you can’t even be even remotely responsibility with someone else’s money how can you even think of hiring a staff and have them depend on you for a paycheck?”

        “Details. Who gives a shit (here it comes) what about our dreams, man?” I mean – we have a really cool space in an old factory”….

        Are you doing retail or wholesale?

        what does it matter man?

        Because if your pissing money away to play Willy Wonka on a retail level, you need foot traffic. Location matters. if you’re doing wholesale you can work out of a business park and pay far less in rent and….

        FUCK YOU!!! ASSHOLE!!!!

        And Joshie storms out.

        Hipster factory space….artist made logos (what a way to start a business, right?) this guy just ripped the foundation out of his little fantasy.

        And he couldn’t take it.

        • Now THIS is one youtube video I would have loved to see.

          • Everyone there had a clear understanding of what they wanted to do and either had experience or had a partner who did.

            I was looking into financing because I did not want to borrow from family. I had an equipment list with prices of both new and used equipement (used cooking equip, tables, chairs, new refrigeration).

            Everyone else was no different. One guy was going to start a BBQ biz and built his own rig.

            They just had this fantasy – and their attitude reflected the fact that they were not used to being questioned or told they were wrong.

          • Pat, fantasy is their reality.

          • All the coddling they received made them non-functioning adults.

            Now there’s some news coming out about theft going on at the OWS.

            Some girl had her $5500 MacBook stolen… WTF?! WOW!

          • I gave it to the food wagon lady.

          • Since they’re interested in re-distributing the wealth, I think I might have to go Christmas shopping down at the park.

        • As part of one of my old incarnations, I advised “new farmers” on startup businesses. This was in Flyovertopia. Most of my initial calls came from Boomer and Gen X types in Chicago who wanted A Little Place In The Country. Somehow they’d get my phone number, and call me asking how they could Get Started In Farming. My job was to weed out the idiots from those who’d benefit from my, and others’, very scarce time and advice.

          Just imagine about 10,000 phone conversations all imploding on the following dialogue:

          Hip New Farm Type From Chicago Or Evanston: We’ve bought our dream, our Little Place In The Country, X acres, Y location…and maybe Until We Figure Out How We Will Farm There you could help me find A Local to rent our land for whatever they wanted to grow. We’re willing to cover all the costs of the organic certifications.

          Me: I’d say the more realistic question is what you would be willing to pay them?

          HNFT: Pay them?

          Me: Yes, if you are not going to farm your land, then any tenant farmer would be doing you the service of maintaining its zoning status as agricultural land.

          HNFT: Well, I thought that they’d be eager to have a place to Grow Things Organically, for a reasonable rent per acre!

          Me: “Reasonable rent per acre” meaning…?

          HNFT: Well, I don’t know, whatever the market will bear!

          Me: In that part of the state, conservation set-asides pay better than farming. Do you realize that?

          HNFT: What does that mean?

          Me: (gob smacked into silence) It sounds like you’re in the early stages of determining your enterprise mix.

          HNFT: YES, that’s why I’m calling you!

          Me: OK, let’s try this. Regarding your plans to farm the land, what kind of enterprise mix are you leaning toward?

          HNFT: I don’t know what that means!

          Me: OK…let’s try this. Do you lean more toward animal agriculture, or plant agriculture?

          HNFT: Well, how am I supposed to know that if I never farmed?

          Me: Sometimes people start by considering the kind of work they prefer to do.

          And then, the inevitable, never varying response:

          HNFT: ***WORK***???

          Over time, I got a lot snottier. A few times they called my boss to narc on me. He was even snottier and more abusive than I, since he’d grown up on an Illinois cash grain and dairy farm in the 1960s and 1970s that got run out of business by Chicago suburboyups who moved into their five-bedroom fungi next door then lodged complaints about the noise, the animals, etc., till his dad just finally gave up and sold out to developers himself.

      • Bodereauxs Butt paste? LOL, I use that stuff on my kid. I bet it tastes better than their mayo!

  2. fuckshit fuckshit i hate these pricks

  3. Christ, between this and mac & cheese…basically, these fly-over pretenders specialize in foods that could be prepared by Rhesus monkeys…

    It “will be more of a lab than a store”. That’s what you want in a neighborhood store – Bunsen burners and Hazmat suits.

    Take a cheap product that anyone can afford, slap a gable on the label, mention that it’s made using a hundred-year old recipe from midget Lithuanian peasants, charge $12 dollars instead of $3 and have some bozo on Yelp gush all over it while the Amish-doppelgangers in plaid bask in the glory.

    “Condiment revolution”. Here’s relish and hot peppers in yer eye.

  4. Today, as I was pissing off of my rooftop overlooking McCarren Park, I noticed a group of Sharpie-physiqued refugees from the dustbowl comparing the height of their stovepipe hats and nasalshrieking over who makes the best locally sourced mustache wax, so I rolled out my reproduction Roman Ballista, loaded a 7 foot long, bronze-tipped bolt into the slot and fired, pinning 9 or 10 of them to the side of a “Baja Caleb’s Gluten-Free Taco Truck” that happened to be passing by at the time. End of Story.

    • Perfect! LOL

      • Just when you think these @sswipes can’t get any more extreme, this pops up. I hope their customers all get listeria, botulism, and salmonella.

        • Those are some of the available varieties. They’re testing Brooklyn dirt as a possible limited edition premiere flavor.

        • ..And “Street Smegma” – the heady goo that gets stuck in the treads of your sneakers. An authentic gritty, urban mix of congealed Coca cola, Cigarette butts, chewing gum, motor oil, anti-freeze and pieces of Hot dog buns.

        • I guarantee that a food-borne illness is inevitable with these guys. Look at how many outbreaks hipsters have caused already. The bean sprout thing in Hamburg was all them — apparently stirring the cowshit was too much like work for them. They just dumped it on insufficiently sterilized and basically killed everyone that ate the bean sprouts.

      • Thank you, but I’m nothing more than a pale imitation.

  5. After 40+ years, suddenly Kraft is no longer good enough for me….

    : )

  6. Give me a bottle of sriracha sauce. That’s a condiment. Place will be empty in 6 months and the rent will go up again. I wonder who the landlord is? He must be laughing his ass off every time one of these mongs approaches him with the next big idea.

    • Or a tub of Mae Ploy curry paste. About 5 bucks (for a pound!) at your local restaurant supply store. No dyes or additives or MSG…just good good things grated up fine and smooshed all in–red curry, yellow, green, matsaman, panang, and one I’m forgetting.

      I like to sneak it into curry dishes I prepare when vegans are coming over. Then I can say, after they’ve finished gushing, and they read the label, and there’s, like 1/1,000th of 1% of prawn or anchovy in it, “Oh my goodness gosh–is THAT the one with the fish in it? How unfortunate. Still, that little fish did better turning into a vegan than, say, fertilizer for GMO corn, right?”

      Their little eyeballs spin in their sockets. It’s fun.

  7. It has been said every way, but after reading the play A Long Days’ Journey Into Night, certain dialogue reminded me of hipsters.

    Tyrone: You said you realized what I’d been up again as a boy. The hell you do! How could you? You’ve had everything — nurses, schools, college, thought you didn’t stay there. You’ve had food, clothing. Oh, I know you had a fling of hard work with your back and hands, a bit of being homeless and penniless in a foreign land, and I respect you for it. But it was a game of ROMANCE and ADVENTURE to you. It was PLAY…There was no damned romance in our poverty. Twice we were evicted from the miserable hovel we called home, with my mother’s few sticks of furniture thrown out in the street, and my mother and sister crying. I cried too, though I tried hard not to, because I was the man of the family. At ten years old!

    The character goes on with what he endured, but that’s how I view hipsters. They see everything as a romance and adventure, not knowing what true struggle is but award themselves a badge of honor. That’s fine except it’s insulting to those they flaunt and stick out in front of, to come into their territory and warp it. If they had a damn clue, they wouldn’t behave as they do.

    • Sorry for some typos in my post, ha ^

    • Is that the one with the foghorn?

      I have no patience for O’Neill, but I think I’ll have to go back now and read it again. Can’t deal with the Hepburn version at all.

      I just always figured it was all about a family whose organizing principle was making mom a sexual neurotic.

  8. “…just know that the average real New Yorker wants to punch you in the face.”

    That’s not quite true.

    People EVERYWHERE want to punch you in the face. I personally would like to punch hipsters in the face repeatedly.


    Occupy Wall Street: Fighting Capitalism, One Food Cart at a Time

    Even as Occupy Wall Street protesters are decrying the grip of big business on America, they are causing angst for some small business that are well within the 99 percent: The New York food carts and tourist stands that surround Zuccotti Park. And while the occupation has been compared to the Arab Spring and Tahrir Square, the mostly Egyptian kebab cookers and breakfast sellers who are losing their livelihoods aren’t too sure.

    • Fuckin classic they are sooooo against capitalism but have no problem fuckin the ass off of people who are making a living the very same way.

    • If this isn’t supreme irony, I don’t know what is.

      Zizi Elnagouri, a voluble native of Alexandria, Egypt, has spent five years selling pastries on the corner of Cedar and Broadway. She whirled her hands as she spoke, flapping her apron to make a point. “From the beginning of this, we lost all our business,” she lamented. Elnagouri took matters into her own hands, venturing out into the square to tell the occupiers “we are out of business.” Some were glad and others sympathetic. But Zizi was shocked. “I couldn’t believe they were American. Do you see how they look? What they are wearing? I don’t believe. This must be the Third World!” Zizi is accustomed to well-fed New Yorkers in suits, not people begging for free doughnuts. “Sometimes they buy coffee … it depends on who gives them money. I feel sad for them. It’s hard for Americans to start the day without coffee.” But although she said the destitution in the square reminded her of the Third World, the occupation didn’t strike her as another Tahrir. “We were fighting for a big, big thing: for life, to eat, against a giant snake that would kill us.” Unsurprisingly, she employs a smart breakfast metaphor: “Here, they’re not fighting to eat, say, regular bread, but … special bagels or something.”

      • I feel sorry for these people. These fucking douchebags are preventing honest, hardworking people from earning a living. I hope the nazi and communist sympathizers that recently threw in their support take it to the next level, giving the cops a legitimate reason to break heads.

      • Hold up…. some were actually happy? This person was not a fucking banker or wall Street hot shot.

        She seems to know what real deal is. Too bad she doesn’t know anyone capable of dispersing or wiping these people out.

        • Actually, I believe it. From what I’ve been seeing, the Marxists are running the show over there. Ever deal with a Marxist? As they scream about how capitalism doesn’t work and how Marxism is the only way, offer them a trip to Wal*Mart and their eyes light up. Cheap wares made by the slave labor they claim to abhor. Point that out to them and you get a fight.

          I got to spend a month this summer with a visiting Marxist college student from Australia. We fought constantly. I consider myself liberal, this girl made me out to be further to the right than Michele Bachmann. Pointing out any hypocrisy on her part led to a screaming match. Her views were so far to the left that they bent to the right. Somehow, she would find a way for a coma patient to do some form of work.

          When I pointed out how badly Marxism worked in practice, she would get all out of shape. She was all for bringing down corporations. OK, there are a few I feel need to be brought at least back to earth, but she would make just about everyone unemployed. Yet she was all about her gadgets. All about getting her government stipend as a student. All about money. As long as it was money in her pocket and the pockets of her Marxist friends. She didn’t understand the difference between creating an idea and becoming mad rich off of it and being a failed CEO and bought out for millions just to get rid of you. It was like she had no filters.

          And that is the problem with these people. They have no filters. They have no social skills. They don’t get it. So yeah. Putting someone who falls into the 99% out of business doesn’t bother them, because it is a blow to capitalism and they win.

          So how was it that Dinkins got the squatters out of Tompkins Square Park? Wasn’t it tear gas and then bulldozers? I think it’s time. It’s actually past time.

  10. As much as I love mayonnaise…this is some straight bullshit. A “condiment revolution”? Please. If I want fancy mayonnaise, I’ll just sprinkle some black pepper in it and call it a day. But no. All these fucksticks want to take something so retardedly simple and make it “exotic” in order to make themselves feel superior to others even though what they’re doing isn’t that special to begin with.

    Hey, I got an idea! As I was eating my ramen noodles (mainly because I gotta maintain until payday), I realized there needed to be a “ramen noodle” revolution! I’ve decided to open up my own ramen noodle restaurant. Featuring locally sourced grains and noodles exported all the way from Micronesia. Using a 1,000 year old recipe from the Khan Dynasty, the true flavor and potential of ramen noodles is exploited. All organic and cruelty free. And a $12.50 a bowl, you can’t beat it!

    Relive those college days all over again…in a classy way!

    • $12.50 a bowl? Not expensive enough to be considered artisanal. Not to mention the lack of locally produced toxins in a whimsical and playful combination guaranteed to satisfy the palate of the discerning neckbearded, dumpster diving gourmand.

      • Good point. Better make it $27.50. Nothing says “ironic” better than paying nearly 30 bucks for something that can be bought for 25-50 cents a bag.

        Oh, and that cilantro flavor? That’s arsenic.

        • You might consider “old” sneaker “lace”, instead of noodles, to compliment the “arsenic” to make this dish truly ironic.

    • Most honest 4 star chefs hold Hellman’s in high esteem. It’s consistent and well made. And if you want to make something different. You add stuff to it. lemon Jouice, herbs, hot sauce.

      And look – the stuff this try hard is pushing maybe be good…BUT IT’S FUCKING MAYONNAISE.

      Housewives and chefs have been using this for years without fanfare. Who did this Joshhave to blow to get major print on mayo?

      • Hellman’s is our house’s choice. I wish they wouldn’t use soy–certain times of the year it makes us both fart cyclones. We’re not from the soybean parts of the world ancestrally. So mostly we go with butter anyway.

        But in the summer, when logging and farming is running hot and heavy, and you get in at night at like ten p.m., and you shower off and make one tomato and avocado sandwich and one ham, there’s nothing like Hellman’s. With whatever fucking mustard is the cheapest, or you mashed together from mustardseed powder, vinegar, and whatever else you feel like. I like throwing some Old Bay seasoning in.

        • PS, neglected to mention that we, like Triff, usually make our own mayo. Olive oil, vinegar, a bit of egg yolk. Nofuckinthing to it. The Hellman’s is mainly for the heavy part of the work season.

        • I have to admit that I’ll pay a little bit more for Blue Plate, but that’s mostly because I built up a taste for it from friends in New Orleans. If you’re making up a recipe from scratch, or even just making a good meatball sandwich, it’s even better than Hellman’s. But that’s just me. (And Old Bay seasoning? I’m going to have to try that. The closest I get to exotic when it comes to mayo is mixing in a bit of garlic, especially when making a sandwich from my wife’s pot roast.)

          • I was maybe 20 and at a crab shack on the Eastern Shore (Chesapeake), a totally undiscovered/non tourist place–a yard behind a storefront, picnic tables, and you tapped your own from a keg on the ground. There was a sign, “If you want clean plates bring em. We eat on oilcloth.” (The pile of crabs was dumped on the middle of the table, you took a crab, cracked and poked and sucked then shoved the shells down the holes outside the middle of the tables; cans were underneath. They did, however, have little paper plates for the salads and sides.)

            Everyone local ate there and pronounced it safe. I’d helped a guy working at a state campground load up the trashcans on his truck (he had a back injury from fishing), and he told me about it as thanks. He said I had to try their Special Sauce. So I did. Tasted it. Hey, I said, it tastes like mayo with Old Bay! The crabcake cook stopped grating carrots over on this other table, looked at me from under his filthy hat and growled, “Way ta fuckin’ go, genius! Now the secret’s out.” Then we both fell apart laughing, and so did everyone in earshot.

            Bluefins could be steamed with or without Old Bay, but it was generally in the cakes. So the Bayo was for the plain steamed crabs, though I also liked it on the cakes. Can’t get enough goddamn Old Bay.

            These days I can’t eat bottom feeding seafood without getting incredibly fucking sick, so I just put Old Bay in other things. It’s really good in white rice. Also in white sauces for pasta.

          • Oh, goddamn, that sounds good. I haven’t had good steamed crabs in years. I mean, you can get bluefins in Dallas, but we’re better at barbecue than we are with crabs. Time for me to play (non-dumbass) tourist for a while.

  11. Hipsters have so much money it’s almost mind boggling. Could anyone actually quantify how much money these clowns have put into Northwest Brooklyn?

    Just imagine if you come up with some half way good (hipster good) get rich quick scheme to divert all these hipsters extra money to your pockets.

    Organic ego waffles?

    • Only instead of yelling “LEGGO MY EGGO!” they’d take a photo of you, the oppressor, with their I-phone, call 911 for a week straight, go on a crying jag and blog about your experience, call mommy and daddy for money to fund his new documentary on Waffle intimidation in Williamsburg, put it on you tube and have the local waffle collective to occupy the culprits apartment until their demands for tuition reimbursement, 45 dollar an hour barista wages and government funding of social media projects, poetry slams and rectal expulsion art galleries.

      Or you can do what I did: Punch cousin in the back of the neck and kick him until he coughs up his spleen

      • “Waffle intimidation” cracked me the hell up. I think I woke someone up.

        Anyone who buys their stuff doesn’t realize that mayo is very adaptable. You want a flavor in it? Add it. Boom, you have [flavor] mayo. Whatever they make, you can make in your own kitchen using Hellman’s or just oil and egg and whatever.

        This is just silly.

      • I think what you mean is LEGO MY EGO.

  12. I got one, if your interested. It’s simple and guaranteed to clean out the money from these fucking morons’ pockets.

    • Tease.

      • Here’s the idea which I might use myself, being that I’m from the contaminated areas:

        Open a location that sells a quirky and innovative new take on a classic breakfast staple. The selling point is that this comestible can be enjoyed at any time of the day. This item will be handcrafted from 100% organic, sustainable and locally obtained ingredients and prepared in accordance to vintage recipes to insure freshness because customer satisfaction is our primary goal. Various artisanally prepared condiments will be available to accompany this delightful treat, making your experience a whimsical and magical adventure.

        This is a proposal for a fucking waffle shop/cart. Call it “Bromley’s Aulde Breukelyn Waffle Emporium” or whatever else sounds bogus enough to cater to their obsession with retro trends and other bullshit “vintage/old timey” interests. Price them starting at $5.34 (or whatever oddly numbered price you decide upon) for two, as a nod to these pretentious douchebags’ sense of irony. Flour, eggs, milk and other ingredients conveniently, and inexpensively, available at the restaurant supplier. Condiments? Yup. Whipped cream; preserves; assorted crap you decide to combine and use the neckbeards as guinea pigs. Consider this your homage to MK-ULTRA. What they don’t know, they’ll still pay for. Of course, the condiments will cost an additional $2.62 (or, once again, the quirky price of your choosing). Again, the pricing will be the hook. It needs to be quirky enough to get their attention and make them believe that you’re selling a superior and high quality product worthy of their parents’ money. I’ve done some informal polling among the Joshes and Meghans in my building; and, they all said that this is a great thing. Nobody has been bold enough to do waffles. Their collective remarks, not mine. There is a potential to rape the wallets of these clueless fucks at a highly profitable rate. Get a frontloader to scoop up the mazooma that you’ll be raking in.

        As an added note, I might take this proposal to the SBA and see if I should actually go through with this. As a vet, I’ll have a leg up on these nasally stick figured entrepeneurs if a point-of-sale system (food cart heh) license is required. I won’t have to pay for one and I get preference for high traffic locations.

        If you think this is viable, you’re welcome to use it.

        • Can we have some midgets in court jester costumes, jugglers and a lute player? or should we go “down and real” – have an old black guy with a egg shaped mic playing steel slide and blowin’ harp. If we go with the latter he should like yah – be blind – and if possible, shot a man on a south bound train ….with hellhounds on his tail.

  13. I am now selling artisnal mayo for exactly $1 less than these guys. (Or for $10 more, if that makes it better.) Limited quantities, act now. Please ignore the Hellman’s label, I’m just, uh, upcycling.

    • Don’t worry. These twats are doing the same thing with Hellmans that the Masturbation Bros are doing with Hersheys.

      Melting it down and repackaging it that is. Add a bit of salt, spices (from Key Food) and coloring (also Key Food), ball-juice, urine, feces, snot and voila, $1 of Hellmans becomes $49.99 or organic, artisinal, something-or-other.

    • Hah1 maybe you should cut the letters out and paste them on like some psychotic ransom note:


      Le ham’s

  14. The latest from “Portlandia”. I wonder what this woman looked like?

    OR bus driver accused of berating mom, crying baby

    PORTLAND, Ore. (AP) — A driver in Oregon’s largest public transit agency berated a woman and her crying baby into getting off a bus in a Portland suburb, saying “I can’t drive with that noise,” another passenger said Monday.

    Over the loudspeaker, the female bus driver told the woman to distract the baby to quiet it down, passenger Jennifer Chapman said. Other passengers muttered that the driver should “just drive the bus, just do your job,” she said.

    When the mother and the baby got off the bus at a stop in Hillsboro, other passengers also left en masse in protest, she added.

    • Story says she “only spoke Spanish,” so I’m guessing that the “protest” had nothing to do with the situation, but with the ritualistic display of white liberal superiority…posing as solidarity…actually guilt.

      “Drive the bus, just do your job”???? That’s what the driver was trying to do. She admitted she could not drive with a screeching sprog distracting her. I feel the same way when I drive. And now she–the productive working member of society–is on “administrative leave.” All because Mommy X has no clue about how to comport herself in public, and rein in her kid, and if she can’t, then at least take the kid somewhere and calm it down before inflicting it on others and causing safety hazards.

      If you read the comments to that story, you’ll see that there are a lot of people in Porkland who agreed with the bus driver. Locals there are as sick of hipsters as youse New Yorkers are.

  15. A bit off topic, but here is a story on a Rooftop Farming Collective – it is on a rooftop in Long Island City, which for all you guys that are not in NY, is actually in Queens.

    So what would you call a rooftop farming collective in Queens? Why, BROOKLYN GRANGE, of course. I guess they thought they’d get more straw armed barista cred with the name Brooklyn in it – or maybe they feared that Zoey, Ethan, and Hummus wouldn’t eat a rooftop product not related to Brooklyn. Or maybe these flyover fucks are simply so ignorant of the city that they think LIC is in Brooklyn.

    Can’t make this shit up, even down to them talking about having bees and chickens. Hipster cliche set #131.

    • Here’s an idea:

      Go the fuck back home and open a “Breukelen” establishment. maybe i can sell these kazoo-voiced Johnny Yahppleseeds some authentic, locally obtained, glow in the dark Brooklyn topsoil from Radiac Corp.’s parking lot.

      • Gold mine – and you have the extra selling point of the topsoil being authentic Williamsburg product.

      • Also thinking of marketing a cigarette to the hipster – “Brooklyn Spirit” – instead of the Indian head, the box will have an drawing of a whimsical performance artist suspended from the beams of the Williamsburg Bridge.

        And the ads will push the ‘smooth, hickory flavored smoke, with just a hint of hummus’.

        The manufacturing costs will be low, because I’d just be taking American Spirits and repackaging them. The idiot fauxhemians will convince themselves and each other that “Brooklyn Spirit” is better – “like, yah Ethan, you can really taste the faint hint of hummus”

    • The last time I talked to an old timey Grange dood about the hipster co-optation of the Grange movement in the midwest and Left Coast, his comment was succinct:

      “I predicted all this bullshit the first time I saw Sesame Street in 1970.”

      The “rooftop farmers” I’ve known have been poseur boneheads. Everybody knows that real city dwellers squat vacant land to grow “people’s gardens.” You fucking go into the heart of the slums, claim a piece of real estate, set up your discarded tires, and get it going. But that means, of course, you have to deal with the pesky locals. You grow what you can, you fight off the gangbangers, whores, and crazy people, maybe you get a harvest. Then someone bulldozes it, and you have to start over.

      By contrast, the “rooftop farmers” stay carefully ensconced at their gentrified habitations.

      Most of the ones I’ve known were renting, not owning, and would get really pissed off if the landlord informed them that piling tons of earth on the roof, then adding water/rain to it, was not responsible from an engineering point of view. What a capitalist pig! Physics and gravity only exist in the realms of oppression!

    • They can’t help it. I mean, there’s no body of water separating Brooklyn from Queens. So like, yah, it’s all the same borough, yah?

  16. HA!!!
    Where’s I Killed Josh when you need him? He was calling these tools “mayonaise eaters” like two years ago!

  17. I was in portland last month making my way up the west coast to seattle…. ofcourse, there were several businesses named “Brooklyn” whatever…


    • Typical. All of the Brooklyn hipsters go on and on about how they want to make Brooklyn more like Portland, and the Portland hipsters go on and on about how they want to turn Portland into some fantasy version of Brooklyn. Can’t they come together and make the perfect hipster Eden in the perfect locale, like 50 miles due east of Sheboygan?

      • That would of course be perfect, since it’d put ‘em fuck-dab in the middle of the small town of Pentwater in mainland Michigan. And them good old boys know what to do with hipsters, by fuck. Manistee NF is nearby, for good measure.

        • Precisely. I just want to watch the first time this little enclave came into town and asked what flavors of mayonnaise they had for sale in the convenience stores. And how badly they’d cry when told “GET THE FUCK OUT!” by the store owner.

          • “GET THE FUCK OUT” in this case translates as 7.62x54r.

            Done right, you can skewer several with one round, just as the Soviets were amply taught in 1939, on the Mannerheim Line.

  18. What the fuck is next organic douche drinking water, these motherfuckers I can’t fuckin stand them. On a lighter note me and caleb will be occupying hellmans mayonnaise in the near future. FUCKIN JERKOFFS

  19. Jesus, food is fine. Leave it alone. I see the writing on the walls. I think we are going to have to move again soon. I just got back from a lovely 10 day vacation. My partner picked me up from the airport and we went to my place for beers and video games and conversation(ie fill me in on all the EMS gossip I missed out on over the week). We walked into the bodega, I was shooting the shit with the guys that work there for a second, when my partner shouted over “yo son we gotta start drinking at my crib, you can move in next door to me!” Now, my partner and I are normal guys. We enjoy a really good beer every now and then, but over all we are Bud, Miller Time, get buzzed for cheap kind of guys(so is the uniformed culture). Our normal beer case has been completely redone. Barely a miller or bud. Its now all obscure weird ass artisinal micro brews with whacky whimsical labels.

    We asked the nice gentlemen if they still had “normal” beer. God bless those guys. But it sounded like something out of a spy movie or something. They said, “here my friends, we have the special stash for you” and brought us out some Budweisers. Hummus was of course picking up some american spirits and ye olde brueklyn beere. My partner shoulder checks him, puts our beer up on the counter. Hummus does the offended sigh, my partner and i turn in unison and go “what?!” Mind you we are about 480lbs combined. I grab 2 ice cream twix’s and thrown them on the counter looking straight at him, my partner goes, gimme these too, looking straight at him. Hummus knows me from the neighborhood as the guy “that he thinks was fucking with his fixie” Hummus crys like hes tattling on me “hes not from here!” My partner responds with “i know mother fucker, neither are you, but my partner isnt doing this(takes one finger and pushes it into the 6 pack of beere he holding up against his chest and pushes him slightly). Hummus backs down and my partner as usual with the finisher looks straight at him and goes “i know you scared like a mother fucker of a nigga.” I cant top that. So looking like a fool I add a manly “YEAH” LMAO.

    Point being what is wrong with French’s or Hellmans or Jiff or Miller? Food, beer, etc. Its for consumption. Not a show.

    • This website, and stories like this, give me hope that the whole world isn’t going hipster crazy. I bet Hummus never had to deal with someone putting him in check like that over at the vegan Taco stand at Brooklyn Flea.

    • A few months ago I met my best friend for lunch. We decided on a place we used to frequent when we worked together

      Well the entire area has gone like-yah. I have my son with me since he hasn’t seen my friend in a year.

      We’re seated next to a table with two Ethan’s and two Canklinas. They’re wearing the uniform. We’re dressed normally -jeans, khaki’s polo shirts. We sit down and they stop talking just stare giving my kid these really hostile stares. then the “UH” and the eye rolling.

      I stare back.

      We sit down. My friend starts speaking to my kid about his new school, swimming etc.

      More sighs and eye rolling – and a gagging sound complete with a finger in the mouth.

      I turn to them.

      “You got a fucking problem, asshole?

      Since when do they allow kids in here?

      My friend grabs my arm and sits me down.

      The waiter takes my order. I’m still pissed.

      My son is telling us about how hard the summer swim league is and about his new school.

      Off to my left I hear “this is why I never want kids.Fucking rug rats”.

      I lost it.


      My friend – who’s considerably stronger than me, grabs me before I wring the weasel’s neck.

      “C’mon. Your kid’s here. Let me handle this”.

      And he grabs the guys throat. and slams him against the wall.

      apologize to the kid, asshole.


      That kid’s my god child. you fuck with him you fuck with me….now apologize.


      The owner come’s running back. He trying to get my friend to let go of Ethan’s neck.

      he finally lets go.

      And kicks the assholes out of his restaurant.

      Honestly — what is it with these people and their hatred of children? do they hate the competition?

      • It’s more like they’re projecting their infantile frustration caused, in part, by their miserable childhoods. They were probably used as punching bags by all the other kids; so, they can’t stand to see well adjusted, normal kids who remind these losers of something they weren’t. That being said, your friend could’ve been a little more diligent in crushing Hummus’s windpipe before the owner got there.

      • Hipsters – just a bunch of stupid, boorish punks with no manners or common courtesy.

        On the one hand, it’s too bad your son had to be subjected to that trash. But on the other hand, he saw a valuable demonstration of what happens to people who fail to act like gentlemen, and he’s also seen that two decent guys have got his back. And that ain’t bad.

        • > Hipsters – just a bunch of stupid, boorish punks with no manners or common courtesy.

          “If you can’t beat them, arrange to have them beaten.”
          – The late, great George Carlin

        • Well…I think Joe z. and I have a few common parenting techniques. My son is polite to a fault but I openly mock assholes in front of him as well. My kid chimes in, although he preferes to call them “freaks” when. He’s really lost it he let’s fly with “douchebag” but only if mom isn’t around.

      • of course they hate what they don’t have–then when they do spawn, it’s ALL about the CHILDREN!! thx for having a shitball beat up. i too get stared at (along with the snicker) & i try to act like mature. these fucks are sick.

        • My son and I openly mock them, which pisses them off to no end. The other day, he pointed two out on the Nassau Avenue subway station and said, “Look, AAA-armed beardos!” Even the transit cop was laughing. They know better than to say something audible.

        • That’s because their spawn are acting as human shields. The old “You wouldn’t hit a guy with glasses?” gag won’t work, so when they get caught being assholes and someone calls them on it, they can squeal about someone saving their kids from the beating that they so richly deserve.

      • The next time you hear, “this is why I never want kids.Fucking rug rats”. Try this.

        Say to the person in question something to the effect of, “Thank you for informing us of that. By not breeding, you will be making the world a better place for my children.”

        If the they have two brain cells to rub together, they will get they are being insulted. It might take them five minutes, but they will get it.

      • You got it in one. The older they get, the harder it is for them to get the attention they so desperately crave, and they get correspondingly crankier that everything isn’t about THEM. Incidentally, this is why so many hipsters and yups break down and have kids in their forties, after they’ve sworn they’d never do so in the past. By bringing up what their kids are doing, they can swing any conversation back toward talking about them, every time. Ever notice the number of weekly paper columnists that snap, have two or three sprogs, and then use those kids to get whatever they want?

      • Hipsters = Adult children who hate real children.

        The circle is completed.

      • I still wonder what will happen to the kids once the parents’ trust funds run out.

        Are they going to hit the city orphanages like they hit the food stamps?

        • If the hipsters can’t go back home, they’ll at least dump their kids. I heard one great story along that line last week, with an artiste and her worthless husband deciding that they simply couldn’t afford to keep the kids and shipped them off to her parents. They’ll come out and visit every once in a while, but until either Mom and Dad can pay their bills or there’s suddenly a new market for shitty art, the kids are on their own. (This is a shame for one big reason. If the kids stayed with their feckless parents, the only way they could rebel was by being successful. Now, they’ll look back on vague memories of their “cool” parents and want to be just like them.)

      • I don’t believe they hate children they jjust hate healthy competition. I have three kids and as long as my wife and I take care of them they don’t get any of our money. It has recently been suggested I get another job as my children are taking Caleb, zoey and ethans fair share. Too bad your friend couldn’t have snapped that fuckin weasels neck……

    • Looks like these damn occupy protests are costing people their earnings and jobs as well.

      Case in point: due to the need of police officers to babysit these choads, overtime pay has been rapidly growing thus NYC, Philadelphia and other cities are in the process of cancelling their academies for the following year or years depending on how much financial damage was done. This does not include the food carts that are losing money as well or clean up crews hired by property owners.

  20. Gross. How do you dedicate a whole store to mayo? The supermarket doesn’t even have an entire of mayo.

  21. It seems there’s a new bill floating around to have more regulations on food trucks. Why do I get the feeling the hipster trucks will be lacking the permits/ registration necessary for operation…

    • Ah, they’re just pandering to their Old Fart Reader Base–you know, the ones who actually send them money so they can engineer the minds of the Millennials who want everything for free.

      You get thighlicks from Jesus for having the stomach to read HuffPo.

      And assprongs from Satan for mentioning them here. If there’s anything more hipster than a worth-hundreds-of-millions-of-bucks Boomer lady pretending to be all For The People and shit.

      She used to be an ultraconservative but flipped because the publishing demographics (who has money to waste on AOL shit posing as Lefty) promised to pour more bling into her thong. Also, she’s got one hecka resume of plagiarism of others’ writings/research. So not only supermodels make big money posing.

      DOOD! The PEEEEPULLLL! 99 percent! Shut up, you right wing fascist! Data is imperialist!

  22. Fuck yeah, let’s pay four times the cost of the eggs, oil, vinegar/wine, lemon juice and salt for the privilege of being food poisoned by these dilettantes. That sounds like a fabulous idea. I can make enough mayonnaise to keep my entire family going for a good week and a half in less time then it would take to go anywhere to get it, particularly from some bearded, lice-picking wanker who no doubt managed to contaminate my food with listeria, e.coli and salmonella all at the same time.

    Smoked paprika is an innovation? Since when? I cold smoke my own, you pretentious beardo bitch, but that’s because I’m a real chef and put in my time with a real culinary education. Too bad I’m in a real kitchen, or I’d go and put you cunts out of business by drastically underpricing you, since I can no doubt outproduce you with less expensive equipment and can at least guarantee that I had the food safety training you no doubt (given the track record of your kind) view with such contempt. Because, you know, I care about not killing my customers.

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