Ramblings and Junk

So this weekend is Super Bowl Sunday with two teams playing that I could care little about.  I will still watch the entire game, if it is not an Indianapolis blow out in the first half, and even if it is I will keep it on and be in the 51% of viewers who watch purely for the commercials.

Can you believe that?  I don’t have a citation for that stat, I just heard it on CNN the other night while sitting in the airport and since I got to see the story 3 times, I remember it was 51%.  I know these aren’t big market teams, but that number still seems very high to me.  If I wasn’t traveling right now, I would TiVo the game just to re-watch any of the commercials that are good, I am a geek and an advertising geek as well.

My prediction for Sunday, 31-28, Saints win in a close one and stop the great Peyton Manning game winning drive short of a touchdown and out of field goal range.

And one more thing, I bet the Tim Tebow ad sucks monkey balls.

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This is a re-post of a review by Sonia Hunt, more can be found at www.soniahunt.wordpress.com.

Sonia Hunt: “Fang..? Suck Me”

01/04/2010 by soniahunt

When I hear a name like ‘Fang’ I am reminiscent of wearing a gothic black gown, coyly sashaying into a crowded dark bar where Bill Compton abruptly appears, passionately grabbing me into a corner ready to suck on me while saying “Soni is mine!”   Could be a dream, you say? Well this version ‘Fang’ comes without the vampires but someone should have sucked the life out of me anyway, because this meal was lifeless.

If you like the SF staple ‘House of Nanking’, then good for you.   Welcome to Peter Fang’s sister property that is way more upscale even though it’s nestled next to the Gold Club. The presentation and atmosphere are better than Nanking – dim lighting, bamboo lanterns cast a glow on this trendy place in the SOMA district. But the food and service need dire help, even if from the vampire persuasion.

In general everything was too oily for my taste; I want to taste the food, not the oil it was cooked in.  The Peking Duck had no flavor and the buns and meat were dry.  The Mongolian Beef Tower was blasé and was drenched in crispy noodles sans the veggies listed on the menu. The Wonton Soup tasted like someone poured me a bowl of Campbell’s chicken broth, but without the garlic, ginger, scallion, wontons, rice wine vinegar, etc., that come in a true wonton soup.  I was forced to stop there as the gargantuan portion sizes were telling me so.  All in all, I was searching for Fang to entice my pompous palate and I came up high and dry, making Fang not even appealing enough for Eric Northman to take a bite of.  Although the prices are decent for the portions you get, my quest continues for a great Chinese restaurant in San Francisco.  So I’ll drink my True Blood and meander to the next place.