Are you a funny food writer? Let’s see your stuff.

And if you’re not, maybe these funny writing samples below will inspire you. Here are several that have tickled me lately:

1. David Lebovitz has been been honing his offbeat, irreverent humor for years on his blog and in books. A sample from The Sweet Life in Paris: Delicious Adventures in the World’s Most Glorious — And Perplexing — City shows his puzzlement of Parisian hot chocolate:

“Many visitors get a lost, misty-eyed look when describing the ultrathick, steamy chocolate chaud that glops and blurts as it’s poured into dainty white cups…

Me? I can barely swallow the sludge.

You need to clam my mouth closed and massage my neck to get that hyperthick stuff down the hatch– like forcing a dog to swallow a pill. That throat-clogging liquid hits my tummy with a thud and refuses to budge for the rest of the day. I just don’t get its appeal.”

I’d call this example curmudgeonly, in an adorable way. I love the image of someone massaging his neck, and I recognize that “thud” in the belly.

2. Comedian George Carlin, always a crack-up, wrote these gems about restaurant food and waffle irons in Brain Droppings:

“There are certain clues that tell you how much a restaurant will cost. If the word cuisine appears in the advertising, it will be expensive. If they use the word food, it will be moderately priced. However, if the sign says eats, even though you’ll save some money on food, your medical bills may be quite high.”

“I don’t like trendy food. When I hear, ‘sauteed boneless panda groin,’ I know I’m in the wrong place. There’s such a thing as pretentious food. Puree of woodchuck, marinated bat nipples, weasel chops, porcupine cacciatore. Or fried eagle. A guy said to me recently, ‘C’mon, we’ll go to Baxter’s, they have really great fried eagle.’ I’m thinkin’ to myself, “Do I really want to know this guy?”

On waffle irons:

“Why on earth would you want to iron a waffle? Wouldn’t that just flatten out all the little squares? No, I believe waffles should be dry cleaned. Pancakes, of course, should always be ironed.”

I find this stuff laugh-out-loud hilarious, especially the menu names. I crack up every time I read them. I’d be the perfect audience member if Carlin was still around to perform.

3. Consider the Onion, a parody news source with news features such as Doritos Celebrates 1 Millionth Ingredient. In a story about the burgeoning locavore movement, the punsters list suggestions on how to eat locally, such as:

• “Lucky Northfield, IL residents are in for a treat: They live practically next door to Kraft Foods headquarters, which means they can have all the Stove Top stuffing they want with no guilt.”
• “Tie one end of a 100-mile rope to your house and the other end to your waist to ensure that you only eat within that radius.”

I love the silly, giddiness of this writing, while it deftly skewers politically-correct thinking.

4. Sometimes a book that looks serious can give you a good belly laugh. That happened to me while reading Becky Selengut’s Good Fish: Sustainable Seafood Recipes from the Pacific Coast. Here’s a headnote for a recipe for Mussels with Bacon and Israeli Couscous:

“Dear Grandma: I know when you see the ingredients in this dish, it might give you pause, as you raised me to be a good Jew, but I want to remind you that, above all else, you taught me to see the humor in life. Isn’t it funny how I combined bacon and Israeli couscous with shellfish? Love, Becky. P.S. I had originally called this recipe ‘Bad Jew Stew’ but my editor thought that wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever had, so it could’ve been worse.”

She has more like this. Selengut’s goofy, happy headnotes make a serious book on sustainable seafood fun.

And finally, don’t forget last week’s post about the James Beard Foundation’s new humor award. It has generated tons of media attention due to the nomination of Ruth Bourdain’s tweets. The post includes links to the two other humor essays in the competition.

So, after reviewing these examples, do you have something funny to say about food? Give me a maximum of 250 words of original writing. Paste in something funny from a prior piece of writing or try something new, as an exercise.

If none of these examples have tickled your writing funny bone, give me a few lines of your favorite humorous food writing, and we’ll all have a good laugh, at the very least. Make sure to name the author. If none of the original entries make me laugh, maybe I’ll choose your post as the best overall entry.

Deadline is Sunday, April 17. The winner gets a copy of Lebovitz’s new paperback.

Update: Sharon Grave’s winning post, profiled here.

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Thanks to everyone brave enough to enter my sensuous writing contest, which ended a week ago tonight. It takes courage to post a piece of writing and to have it examined by all who read it. I appreciate the work of every single one of you, and found delightful writing in each.

I was swept away by evocative images from all over the world, including: the pudding-like consistency of ricotta, a spoon that smelled like the cedars of Lebanon, plump twists of pasta, rhythmic plunges and dips of a paddle, pebble-sized pieces of pork fat, almond meal as fine as sand, a pillow of hot dough burning through paper, the first burst of peach juice, a jade fringe of lettuce, chai in a fragile clay cup, soup the color of Georgia O’Keefe’s desert…I could go on and on, but why not read the samples yourself and find your own favorites?

To select the winner, I printed out the writing samples and highlighted adjectives, words or phrases that struck me as sensuous. Then I counted up how many terms I highlighted in each sample, and determined the sample with the most color marks. 

The winner was the piece by Garrett McCord of Vanilla Garlic. Here it is, with my highlighted words and phrases:

I think something was wrong with me as a child. I detested most breakfast cereal, the sugary kind advertised on Saturday mornings right after a cliffhanging episodes of Power Rangers or Ninja Turtles. I found the taste too cloyingly sweet and the epileptic colors unappealing (though I did have a secret love of Captain Crunch, my one exception). Whereas I happily ate Raisin Bran with bananas my brother adored Corn Pops. It wasn’t for their taste but their value as a play thing which was the way he evaluated the potential enjoyment of any food. Corn Pops were one of his favorites; their saccharine sheen made them stick to his skin with ease, so in the morning the family would be entertained by the terror of the pop-marked space creature, and less so when he shot them out of his nose onto the table with enough force that they would explode in a yellow puff, the airy crack echoing in the tile kitchen.

I put the sensuous writing parts I liked in color so you could see them. Notice his use of writing technique such as

• innovative, even downright strange, adjectives (epileptic, saccarine)
• power verbs (shot, explode, crack echoing)
• use of metaphor (calling his brother a space creature)
• word play (pop-marked instead of pock-marked)
• sense of humor (I don’t need to explain that, do I?).

Garrett wins an hour of my consulting time. Congratulations!

And again, my gratitude to everyone who entered. Readers, if there is a phrase or word in the samples that delighted you, please write in.

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In the wee hours on Saturday, I’m taking off for the first Food Blogger Camp at Club Med Ixtapa Pacific, Mexico. I’ll be teaching a class on Writing with the Senses, and looking for a few good laughs if people write over-the-top pornographic examples.

There might also be magical prose like this:

  “The crust is as crunchy as a butter cookie, so brittle that it cracks audibly when you press it with your fork; grains of cinnamon sugar bounce off the surface as it shatters. The bottom crust is softer than the top, but browned and still breakable. Where the top and bottom meet, there’s a knotty cord of dough that becomes impregnated with enough fruit filling to make it chewy. Inside is a dense apple pack of firm Ida Red crescents bound in syrupy juice.”

– Jane and Michael Stern, The Ultimate Apple Pie, Gourmet

Why is this paragraph good? Notice how the Sterns describe in slow motion as they evoke the senses. You watch that fork and hear it shatter the surface of the pie. You imagine the chewy crust and the syrupy apples. Now appreciate the powerful action verbs: cracks, bounce, shatters, impregnated.  And admire their use of analogy (crunchy as a butter cookie) and metaphor (a knotty cord).

Since I’ll be in Mexico for a week where Internet service is limited, I’m announcing my first writing contest. While I’m gone, I invite you to experiment with these techniques and submit your writing below in a comment. Give me 150 words maximum of sensuous writing. More will disqualify you. 

Deadline is January 16, when I return. The following week I’ll announce the winner, who receives a free hour of my consulting time, to discuss

• blogging or writing samples
• writing career
• questions about recipe writing or freelance writing
• book ideas, etc.

Be funny, be creative, but most of all, get readers to see it, smell it, hear it, touch it and taste it in their minds. Good luck!

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