I actually don’t like chips that much – but people frown on dunking one’s fingers straight into bowls of guac or blue cheese. If I have to eat straight chips, they must be Cool Ranch Doritos. No exceptions.
Marshawn says to eat them, so I do. He call them power pellets. There’s even a study that explains their effect on anxiety.
Hmm … Maybe I’ll double down this week.
Okay, maybe veggies dipped in ground chick peas and garlic sounds a bit bourgeois for football. But it’s good, okay?
For us, games are usually after church. We’re rushing home, and by the time I get into the house, I don’t want to be spending any time in the kitchen. Sometimes it’s nice to have a big ol’ sandwich from our local, all ready to go. We like MSM deli, here in Tacoma: real bread, massive quantities of meat and cheese, drippy condiments.
But, y’know, Jimmy John’s will do in a pinch.
Buffalo-style are typical wings at football tailgates. But BBQ saucy-spicy wings are my style of choice. I don’t care that I need 57 napkins to eat ’em. Worth it.
Three of my football advisors care deeply about chili. One, who insists he isn’t superstitious, makes a crock pot full every single game. When the Hawks last lost, it might’ve been the chili. When I asked Coach Mike about his favorite football foods, he said,
holding a hot vessel of hearty goodness chases the gray away on game day.
He loves his chili, y’all.
Johnny does, too. But I always regret making it for him. Always.
If I don’t make guac, it’s always an issue in our house. Its avocado-y, lime-y, salt-y goodness is tasty on the aforementioned chili, or as a dip, or on sandwiches, or licked off of my fingers if no one is looking.
This is another one Coach Mike mentioned, and I totally concur. Brats, Polish dogs, Chorizo, Linguiza … *drool*
Necessities: some kind of pickle or fermented cabbage (kraut, kimchee, whatevs), spicy mustard, good bread, real tomatoes, onions. No ketchup. I did grow up in Chicago, after all.
And speaking of Chicago …
One of my favorite family traditions is when the Seahawks v. Bears game rolls around. On that day, we get deep-dish pizzas shipped in from Lou Malnati’s in Chicago. I weep when the box arrives, and then, when that sausage pizza comes out of the oven, with its single patty lining the entire pie … I try not to have a seizure on the kitchen floor.
Please do not think Pizza Hut is good enough. It’s not.
I know I live in Tacoma and I’m only supposed to like beers made by, like, dudes with handle bar mustaches who ride antique bikes and make their labels on typewriters … but I don’t.
Here’s what I drink during football:
Corona. Bottled. With lime.
Guinness. By the pint, if I can get it.
Blue Moon. You’re supposed to drink it with an orange, but I don’t like anything sweet in my drinks. I prefer a dill pickle. Try it!
Bud Light. The NFL sponsor had to get to me at some point! I like it best the way my homie taught me to drink it: with tomato juice, Tabasco, salt, and lots of black pepper. It’s pretty much a ghetto Bloody Mary.
This is how we do!
What do you like to eat while you cheer on your team? Lemme know in comments! Hugs and burps!