Give Me Breadsticks Or Give Me… IDK, Something
9 AM, some newborn sixth-sense recognizing a school day wakes me. Must write. Must have breakfast.
So much better than last night, the possibilities are endless. There are hours to spare, so the oven must be used.
New York Pizerria Dippin’ Sticks.
Advertised “great for snacking!” which doesn’t make much sense for something that must be oven-cooked, but then, I hardly disagree. This morning, I’ll have 6 sticks, half the box. They come in two 6-stick blocks, which feels like a bad sign, as sticks I’ve had in this shape before have been awful, but I put the fear aside and cook.
The box contains two little dippin’ sauce containers of marinara—they will be thrown away. The fallacy of including marinara sauce in a freezer box, besides the fact that the sauce is shit, is that it must be heated. I -detest- hot marinara sauce.
Thankfully, I always have a fridgeful of marinara sauce, so I pour myself a little dish and cook the sticks.
The sticks are serviceable. Nothing special, but work well with the sauce. As a freezer-breadstick afficianado, I know that this is a double-edged sword. Were the sticks not good with sauce, they’d be too dry, but if they rely on the sauce, then the sauce is all I taste.
Whatever. The decent-enough experience doesn’t last long. Miraculously, I don’t feel full after the 6 sticks. This seems strange as breadsticks are almost always filling (almost always more than I can handle), but, whatever.
Damn these KFC commercials.
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