Holy shit. The harbinger of intestinal sorrow has a new book out called Food. Cookin' It. Livin' It. Lovin' It.
I'll tell you what, I'm not lovin' it. For the simple fact that Guy, America's favorite sack of excrement, looks as if he's flinging a handful of Wisconsin cheddar at me every time I reach for his Dictum of Dippin' Sauce. It reminds me of the scene from Silence of the Lambs, where the Miggs unleashes a wad of spunk at Clarrisse's business lady bangs (watch here for reference). It's abrasive, and frankly, not something I would expect from a pleasant village called Flavor Town.
Fieri obviously didn't write this book. That deplorable task was passed off to someone named Ann Volkwein. Can you imagine the hours she spent pouring over Guy's signature one-liners? Not to mention the abomination that is the actual recipes. Dear god. This book is the fucking Gastronomicon. Opening it's e-coli riddled pages summons disease and plague upon the humble masses.
Here's the unfortunate book description from Amazon. In Guy's own money lingo, of course:
If you've checked out my Diners, Drive-ins and Dives books or visited my restaurants, Johnny Garlic's and Tex Wasabi's, you know I'm down with all types of good food—and that I'll do what's required to track it down. In Guy Fieri Food, I'm cookin' it my way, from the perfect recipe for Pepper Jack Pretzels (from Mr. Awesome Pretzel himself—that's me) to how to pull together a Red Rocker Margarita Chicken sandwich to a full-on vegetable Guy'd (bet you didn't see that one comin'!). Before I'm finished I'll have you throwing parties with everything from Bacon-Jalapeno Duck appe-tapas to Chicago Beef Pizza to Johnny Garlic's Cedar Plank Salmon.
Fact is, I've been cookin' it, livin' it, and lovin' it since I was just a kid, and it's a privilege to help you bring home some of my own classic, big, and bold flavors.
You can't make this shit up.
One more thing, why is Guy's name dollar green?
Because he's so money?
*Photo credit: Josh Kaulius