I have nothing to add to this whole Guy Fieri mess* — at this point, NO ONE has anything to add to it; it's all been said, forwarded, Facebook-shared, hyped, backlashed, chewed up and regurgitated ad infinitum, ad nauseam.
OK, but: I do have two things. First, that menu reads like it was written by a tweaker. No libelo, but COME ON; you don't have to be an effete foodie snob to feel ... oh, hesitant about the prospect of putting "muy caliente Buffalo sauce-tossed chicken bites crammed into two oversized flour tortillas oozing with triple-jalapeno habanero jack cheese topped with Donkey Cream and Donkamole!" into your mouth, from where it will become part of your body.
Second: Just this. Son of Orlando and all-round baller Eddie Huang got a zero-star review from the New York Times in 2010; it got a lot of "OH SNAP" attention, just like Guy Fieri. Did he cry and whine to lame morning-TV haircuts about it? Did he enlist expert eaters Star Jones and Dr. Phil to defend him? Did he start slathering everything in sight with Douchey Sauce?
No, he did not. He took it like a champ, and that is why Eddie Huang is more of a chef than Guy "Heat Miser Dipped in NASCAR Cheez Whiz" Fieri will ever be. Because there's no whining on the line, Guy.
Mr. Huang also has a pretty good take on the possible ramifications of Pete Wells' takedown (beyond the emotional cattiness), should you feel compelled to keep reading about Fierigate.
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