It Came From Blue Apron: Roasted Beef & Farro Salad

Here at Shameless Consumer Industries, we like to follow the KISS rule, which stands for Kevin (Bacon) Isn’t Sheriff, Stupid. What that means is while food should look good, it should emphasize satisfaction and filling. Don’t serve me pretty air. Like when you hear about those five thousand dollar platters at three star Michelin restaurants on TV only to see the waiter bring out the tray and the whole meal is smaller than what you’d serve an infant.

Like Nature Box, Blue Apron was an idea that the Shameless Consumer had because he heard it on the radio show. Which show? All of them. These days you can’t listen to the radio, a podcast, hear voices in the fillings in your teeth, or intercept private Russian communications without someone being sponsored by Blue Apron. In fact, scientific studies show that Shameless Consumer is the only entity left on earth not sponsored by Blue Apron. Even you are, check your big toe for your branding.

Let’s talk about cost. Blue Apron costs $60 per week for three, two serving meals. If you’re single and hate shopping for dinner ingredients and don’t mind paying a premium, it’s great. Otherwise, I dare any one of you to find me a universe where a standard meal is more than $10 per serving. Go ahead, I’ll wait.

Blue Apron is also great for simple meals that are pretty elegant, not simple like instant mashed potatoes but not difficult like Beef Wellington. My cousin died from Beef Wellington disease, a story I’m sticking to even though the coroner has sued to keep me silent. They keep telling me he’s alive and well in Birmingham, and even went as far as to set up a double who still visits on Christmas. I suppose we all go through the stages of grief in different ways.

This is probably the point where you expect me to talk about the history of roast beef, to which some book nerd is thinking that it is Swedish for beef that is roasted, when any educated person is aware of its origins as a racist slur against Ottomans living in Greece in the late 1400’s. Plus, we don’t have time for history, we have beef to cook.

Where’s the beef? I know where…

Anyway, the roast beef needs to hit room temperature before we can do anything with it, and that’s going to take some time. Come back in like, fifteen or twenty minutes. So how is everyone’s summer going? See any good movies? Did you know that it’s been like five weeks since the last Shameless Consumer review? Who is the lazy moron that runs that webs-oh hey the beef is set.

We place our immaculately seasoned beef into a pan of heated olive oil and flip occasionally. Now the Shameless Consumer likes his meat like he likes his food poisoning: Rare and from meat, so we’re going to take the lower end of the cooking times. If you want to go for more well done, unfortunately nobody can help you.

Now that the beef has been pan fried, we eat. I’m just kidding, but look at that beef. We’ll need to transfer the beef to our oven and cook for 8-10 minutes. I’m going for 8, at a lower temperature. While the beef roasts, we’ll be cooking the Farro for 16-18 minutes. Gee, woulda been good to start with that, right Blue Apron? You kinda have to read ahead, because the next step usually starts as the previous step is still going. It’s like a crappy choose your own adventure novel.

Anyway, bippity boppity boo, and dinner’s done for two. I’m going to skip the rest of the steps since I’m sure you’re aware of how to put vegetables on a pan until they’re cooked, and Shameless Consumer Industries will probably be relieved that I’m not spending a review making comparisons to the Nazi movement. It’s a pretty simple method of cooking the food until it’s cooked, mostly by pan cooking or roasting in the oven. This is what I like about Blue Apron, it has simple recipes that even lazy food bloggers like yours truly can cook to not write about.

The ultimate meal turned out to be sort of a hodgepodge of stuff, with the farro acting as the emotional support, telling the olives that existence is an illusion and that we will all die one day. I’m hesitant to talk about the specific ingredients because this recipe isn’t exact and can change pretty heavily based on your cooking ability.

Regardless, the whole meal was pretty tasty and easy to cook. I have to hand it to Blue Apron, I expected the service to be sub par and overpriced, but found the food to be quite tasty albeit overpriced. I could always buy my own ingredients, but who wants to go to grocery stores? Amazon sells everything I need!

If you’re a cook and don’t care about buying the ingredients yourself, I recommend checking out Blue Apron’s website. You can actually see their recipes and try it out for yourself without having a subscription.

Verdict: 4/5 – I underestimated just how much farro this meal came with, wound up with enough for two gigantic servings. The roast beef was a good cut, and the ingredients were fresh and tasty. My presentation wasn’t great, but then again I’m just shoveling this into my mouth hole so who cares.

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Shameless Consumer Wants The Juicero: A $399 Packet Squeezer

Shameless Consumer Industries doesn’t generally use its leverage of the only food network to be explicitly endorsed by President Obama (in coded language during the announcement of Osama Bin Laden’s assassination) to get stuff, but ol’ Sha’Meless was reclining back, digesting the remnants of last Sunday’s Easter candy when he happened upon an article describing the Juicero, a product that somehow escaped my gaze despite raising $120 million in capital funds.

The concept of the Juicero is pretty simple, it’s a $500 device that squeezes packets of juice into a cup, upon which you drink the contents of said cup. Brilliant! I’ll take five, put it on my credit card and then throw the credit card away because there’s no way I’m paying that bill off and frankly it’s the bank’s fault for ignoring my credit score when I applied for said card.

Juicero uses fresh fruits and vegetables and the machine itself can apparently press with the kind of force that could lift two Teslas. I can empathize, as I’ve often found myself tired out after squeezing the Velveeta cheese packet with the force of two small kittens butting heads.

How can you not like this concept? It’s like a Keurig but cold, a Soda Stream for healthy drinks, a safer version of the contraption I built to siphon gravy out of chicken wing leftovers. Naturally I dug out the Shameless Consumer Corporate Credit Card and went straight to Juicero’s website to buy me a big stinkin’ Juicero and a bunch of those juice packets.

They wouldn’t sell me one.

It wasn’t because the credit card was stolen, which it technically wasn’t because I’m still an employee. Juicero does not currently deliver to Shameless Consumer Industries (I’ll let you know when I figure out where that is) and flat out refuse to provide us with a machine.

Juicero does not currently ship to the Shameless Consumer’s state, or any of the neighboring states, or really any of the states that neighbor the neighboring states. Despite this, they have the audacity to advertise a limited time drink called Granate Glow, which they describe as:

There are no words in the English language that sufficiently describe how good Granate Glow is (trust us: we’ve tried). Don’t settle for the soulless stuff on a grocery store shelf—our Granate Glow is fresh, raw, and mindblowingly invigorating. Consider yourself warned: you’ll never go back to bottled juice again.

Sure, Juicero, challenge the world’s greatest food wordsmith to describe a product that he can’t have.

So I’d like to meet in the middle. I accept your challenge, Juicero, as well as the Juicero system and the Granate Glow packet. Send me this device and I shall concoct a wordsmithing that will have you soiling your pants like you drank too much juice.

Have your people call my people, you know where to reach me. What are you, chicken gravy?

Review: Project 7 Smores Gum

It’s my first real day here as the public face of Shameless Consumer Industries, and I already have a big review. Just as I sat down at my desk, the folks from what I believe is the Nihilist Gum Agency sector of SCI plopped this baby down on my desk. It must be a great product, because I heard the guy laugh on his way out.

Build+A+Flavor is the newest craze from Project 7, a gum maker that specializes in showing you just how much charity work they do, so you understand why they don’t have enough time to devote to making quality products. Project 7 is dedicated to feeding the hungry, hopefully not using their gum.

Let’s start with the toasted marshmallow gum by itself. I found the gum to have a very mild flavor, which Dan in accounting analogized as just hitting your taste buds enough to not raise a welt and leave evidence for the police (I didn’t particularly find that joke very appropriate, so if an editor could leave that out before this goes to print I would much appreciate it.)

They don’t hold up to, say, toasted marshmallow jelly beans, and I probably wouldn’t buy them on their own.

The chocolate flavor leaves a lot to be desired, like a glass of juice or perhaps a bullet to end your suffering (that last one was a joke, please remove it in post). It doesn’t taste anything like chocolate or graham cracker, the kind of chocolate-esque flavor you might find in Sixlets. Light on the chocolate, heavy on the chemical taste.

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What’s worse, the chocolate pieces emit a nauseatingly artificial aftertaste. I can only imagine that if there was such a thing as unsweetened Aspartame, that this is what it would taste like. It lingers on the back of your tongue and refuses to go away. I took a look at the ingredients and found the culprit: Xylitol.

Xylitol is a natural sweetener that somehow manages to taste artificial without being artificial.

Does combining the two make a smores flavor? No. Not in the slightest. If you’ve ever started a bonfire using far too much lighter fluid and wound up giving your marshmallows a chemical kerosene taste, you’ll understand what this tastes like.

The only positive aspect to this product is that it can be resealed, a desperately needed function to hold in the horrid odor that the gum emits. It smells as bad as it tastes, and it tastes pretty awful.

Ultimately, Project 7 S’Mores Gum is pretty revolting. I may have made a mistake with this job choice.

Verdict – 0/5: Am I allowed to give a 0 score? If not, change it to a 1. The marshmallow isn’t revolting but the chocolate is. Gave unsettling feeling in stomach after eating.