I like to write about food.

Why? Because I like food. That's it really. That's all the motivation I usually need.

That said, believe me when I say that the following article is not meant to gross you out, or turn you into all into crazy vegetarians. Really. It's just a food article, so don't be put off by the title, or the content, or the pictures. Here it is:

They aren't really called Gross Patties. That's just what I am calling them now, armed with hindsight.

So what are Gross Patties?

Those are Gross Patties.

No one's ever unhappy when this freezer door gets opened. 3 boxes of them. There they are, right there.

Right now, in fact. Sitting there, waiting to get eaten. Just waiting.

Mark was the one to spot them at Woodman's. Each box was on sale for $3.69, making the steaks worth 37¢ each.

Now a 37¢ steak, that's impressive. Not a neccessary buy, but a good deal nonetheless. What really pushes this over the edge though, making it an unforgivable offense to pass this up, is the bacon.

It makes me want to scream in rage, the simplicity of it all. Bacon wrapped steaks. It's so pure, so natural.

I would like to meet the Chef that requests these bacon-steaks. But look, among their claims to fame: “Enhanced with up to 30% of a solution”.

A solution. What is it? Who knows, but it's a solution, enhancing the steak.

Why these were on sale, we may never know.

And to top it off, they're shrink-wrapped. Individual, shrink-wrapped bacon-steaks. It blows my mind.

To say that these steaks are Mark's pride and joy would be a gross understatement. The whole drive back from Woodman's he was promising miracles to us, how these steaks would change our lives, how lucky we were all about to be, how these steaks were a gift from the Gods... it was all true.

Unwrap them, and they glimmer like diamonds, as if still wrapped in plastic.

Nuke it so it's not as hard a hockey puck at least. Damn these things just keep looking better and better.

And onto the George Foreman grill they go.

So here is where the first red flags are thrown.

The first thing one notices is that this is not beef. Not in the traditional meaning of the word, that is. I'm not sure what I would call the inside of these things, actually. Meat, by pure definition... but only barely.

Maybe it was all that solution.

Oh baby.

See when steak normally gets cooked, it turns red, then pink, then brown.

The fact that these went from dark grey to black should say something. Maybe the survival instincts are supposed to kick in, and the whole experiment gets tossed. $3.69 down the drain... not a big loss... break out the ramen.

Or maybe you are under obligation to keep pushing, and fight fire with fire.

In today's example, we will be fighting grease with grease.

So who here has ever deep fried anything? It's not a pretty process. It's a nasty stinky world of burnt fingers and month-old grime, revolving around a tub of oil as black as ink.

Hopefully we can all learn something from this.

The actual cooking, however, is easy. To deep fry somthing, submerge it in boiling oil, and let the magic happen.

So while those are getting fried up, we check out the final product from the George Foreman. Only a bit of bone, but plenty more grease.

AND it almost looks like beef!

Mark enjoying his meal, and a couple more bananas.

And back to the ol Cool Daddy. About 5 minutes into the frying, my filet started oozing a thick brown gel. What could it be? Meat juice? Is it a sign of freshness? Another red flag? What's a fella to do?

I have no patience for such trivial doubts, and I let the boiling oil right all the wrongs.

Looks pretty good in the end, I daresay. Amazing what a little prep work can do. And hey... a Blatz.

How did it taste? Lets just say that wasn't my only Blatz. It was very, very, unique... and you had better be a fan of grease.

And lastly, Brett eating a potato.