Banana Ketchup and Caffeine!

Eating at Jollibee! Recipe contest results!! Skin experiment!!!

Hello everyone,

Welcome to Issue #198 of CAFÉ ANNE!

So last week’s account of my day with Uriel the ArcAngel, who is walking across the country (sort of) to share a message (also sort of) provoked reactions ranging from fascination and admiration to concern for our peripatetic hero.

But my favorite comment came from reader Bill S. in Pittsburg who said the article provided him with a practical insight: “My takeaway from this piece is the next time I get stabbed in the eye, I’m going to request that the ambulance drop me off at the nearest vintage clothing store—problem solved.”

I’ve since been keeping up with Uriel’s TikTok posts, following him as he walked, trained and hitchhiked from NYC to Philly, Dover DE and Townsend MD—sleeping in a parking garage, hanging out at The Cheesecake Factory and, of course, hitting the bars. I connected him with reader Eileen O., who offered to take him to lunch once he hits Baltimore, so hopefully we’ll hear about that soon!

Speaking of staying in touch, I still get the occasional text from the Naked Cowboy, the famous Times Square busker I profiled in 2023 for his bonkers morning routine which includes Folgers, Nietzsche and a pound of sliced turkey. Last week, he sent me a link to a story in the New York Post’s Page Six: he’s divorcing his long-time companion Patty, the Naked Cowgirl!

Awwww. The couple met long ago, before the Naked Cowboy won international fame and Patty was still waitressing in a Times Square restaurant.

“Oh no! I’m sorry to hear this!” I replied. “How are you?”

His response: “Perfect!”

I think he was just happy to appear in Page Six.

Finally, I am pleased to report that the pestering I did last week prompted a slew of new paid subscriptions. Hyper-caffeinated shoutouts to our newest supporters Mary Ann C., Maja U., Louise L., John S., William G., Terry C., Melissa R., Laurie M., and founding subscriber Nikhil G. As you know, that’s enough $$$ to buy nine kilo jars of pure caffeine powder!

I am now above water, year-over-year, when it comes to the number of folks who are paying, but it’s still just 2.3% of this newsletter’s 18,500 subscribers. While I am happy to keep my promise of maintaining CAFÉ ANNE free for everyone, I need about twice as many paid subscribers to keep this newsletter going. I will keep pestering until we hit 5%!

I am very excited for this week’s issue, of course. We’ve got the results of our first recipe contest and a trip to Jollibee for a strange plate of spaghetti. Please enjoy.

Regards!

Anne

DEPT. OF DUBIOUS CONCOCTIONS

CAFFEINE RECIPE CONTEST RESULTS!

Thanks to those who entered the very first CAFÉ ANNE recipe contest! The challenge, which I issued last month: invent a new dish incorporating pure caffeine powder which—as I noted—can be purchased by the kilo online.

I tested every submission several times in my kitchen. There wasn’t a dud in the bunch, of course, but one stood out as particularly brilliant—perfectly aligned with the CAFÉ ANNE aesthetic and remarkable for its elegant simplicity. Eric in Washington Heights, you are the WINNER!

Eric’s (untitled) recipe, which he sent via email:

Ingredients:
Decaffeinated coffee
Caffeine powder

Instructions:
Simply sprinkle a little powder over your cup of coffee for when you want the flavor of decaf but you really need that little boost.

Eric, send me your street address and I will mail your prize: a CAFÉ ANNE mug! I know you will know just what to do with it.

There were many other great submissions, of course, so here are the runner-ups.

Best Post-Reality Caffeine Ritual: Paul J. in Rockaway, Queens

Paul writes:

Burrata at room temperature in the center of an elliptical china plate with flecks of gold and Prussian blue flecks on it.

Slices of fresh papaya all around the burrata, carved into crescent moon shapes.

Drizzle the whole thing with pesto.

On a separate plate, a small copper plate, more like a Victorian-era ashtray than a plate, serve the caffeine powder in lines, and snort them through a pixie stick, after eating the pixie powder.

Best Hangover Cure: Bob M. in Winter Park, Florida

Bob writes:

I’ve no idea what this powdered caffeine might taste like or if it even has a taste. But sprinkled atop a classic Manhattan it just might be a revelation. And make you perky enough for a third one. Not suggesting it should be served at breakfast. At least not every breakfast.

Wake-Up Manhattan
3 ounces bourbon or rye
1.5 ounces sweet vermouth
Dash of orange bitters
Half an orange wheel
Pinch of caffeine powder
Into a cocktail shaker half filled with ice, add the bourbon/rye, sweet vermouth and bitters. Shake the heck out of it. Rub the orange wheel around the edge of a coupe or martini glass and place orange in the bottom. Pour cocktail into glass along with one small ice cube.

Here’s looking at you … with wide-open eyes.

Best IDK-WTF: The Lost Spring Bar, location unknown

Lost Spring Bar writes:

“Make fried rice. But replace MSG with caffeine. Or wait, add MSG AND CAFFEINE.”

Best Option for a Rainy Day: Aharon, Greenwood Heights

Aharon writes:

EuroAmericano:
3 parts bodega coffee
1 part pure caffeine powder
Mix, serve in espresso cup with tea biscuit and restraints.

Also hats off to Mark D. for his unforgettable “Cockaroach-a-Cappuccino,” Emily G., for her caffeinated Oreo pudding cup, Jessica D. for the delightful “Caffeine Cubes” idea and to the many readers who wrote to warn about the dangers of caffeine overdose to which I can only respond I DONT KNOW WHAT YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT MORE CAFFEINE ALWAYS BETTER THE FASTER I SHAKE THE SMARTER I THINK WHY ARE YOU SO JEALOUS JUST BE HAPPY FOR ME!!!!!

DEPT. OF CLEARLY LABELED PAID MENTIONS

Skin Care Experiment!

I am not a big beauty regimine lady. When it comes to skin care, my life-long strategy has always been, “Leave it alone!” I don’t even wash my face. As for supplements, my general rule is “NO.” I figure I’d be better off just eating the money.

So I am not sure why I was recently approached by Pique Life, a supplements company, inquiring about a “partnership.” They said they could send me some free product to try, and if I liked it, they’d pay me to mention it in my blog. So here we go!

The company’s “Radiant Skin Duo Protocol” arrived a few weeks later featuring two Pique products: a “Sun Goddess Matcha” green tea blend and something called “BT Fountain” which tasted a bit like strawberry Kool-Aid. It promised better skin.

Before launching my product test, I consulted my friend Inky. We decided to review the label claims and determine where I stood so we could establish a baseline.

“Do I look radiant?” I asked.

“Yes, but that’s maybe from being outside in the cold,” said Inky.

“It’s supposed to eliminate fine lines,” I continued.

Inky leaned in and squinted. “You have some fine lines around your eyes and forehead,” she said.

“Am I young-looking?” I wondered.

“Yeah, generically!” said Inky.

She decline to rate my skin on a scale of one-to-ten, suggesting that if I wanted a good before-and-after comparison, I should take photos. So the next morning, I took a bunch of selfies. And then I started drinking—one dose of each every day. I was not optimistic.

Sixteen days later, I took some new selfies and compared the before-and-after shots.

Selfies: February 4 and February 20

Was I crazy? My skin in the new photos actually looked a little smoother, especially around my eyes. I showed the photos to Inky, who had to admit—there was a noticeable difference.

Okay. I am not officially endorsing this product! I am just saying—in this paid mention—that my eyes look less creasy in the “after” photo. Also, I need a haircut.

Pique is currently offering 20% off for life plus seasonal gifts with the Radiant Skin Duo. Use my link here: https://piquelife.com/annekrsd

CHAIN EXPLORER

Chicken Joy! Jolly Spaghetti! I ate at Jollibee

Illustration: Lucy Stafford

I recently stopped by a Popeyes on the interstate between Buffalo and NYC and was astounded by the chain’s chicken tenders. They were sooo good. While I typically avoid chain restaurants, this experience got me wondering—what else have I been missing? I asked readers for recommendations.

The top suggestion? “Would be interested in your thoughts on the Jollibee chain!” wrote reader Megan. “There’s one in my neighborhood and I’ve gotten their fried chicken, which was good, but I’ve heard the dish to get is a spaghetti in a sweet sauce that resembles ketchup.”

Gillian G. raved about the chain’s mango peach pie. And then there was Eden in Bushwick, a fellow NYC Substack writer (check out her delightful Little City, Big Friend newsletter) who made an offer I couldn’t refuse: “If you’d like company for your first Jollibee experience, I would be very happy to guide you!”

I met Eden at the Jollibee on Eighth Avenue just south of 41st Street, which was the first to open in NYC, in 2018. The Philippines-based chain has 1,700 locations worldwide and 100 in the U.S. Of the six now in NYC, three are in Queens (large Filipino population), and three are in Manhattan (near Times Square—lots of tourists). Which says just about everything you need to know.

“My partner’s Filipino, so he grew up in the Philippines and grew up with this,” said Eden. “It’s basically their version of McDonald’s.”

Inside, the small storefront looked like a pint-sized McDonald’s crossed with a 1990s boutique hotel—sleek wood paneling, fake plants, recessed lighting. A life-size, white-gloved Jolly Bee mascot directed diners to the back room.

“So they have a chicken sandwich, but their big thing is their ChickenJoy, which is just like a bucket of fried chicken, like you would get at KFC or Popeyes,” Eden said.

Sure enough, colorful posters proclaimed, “Next Level Juicy; Next Level Crispy” and “ChickenJoy! Every bite made of joy.”

I was already here. Why was Jollibee still advertising itself to me?

The other must-have, Eden continued, is the Jolly Spaghetti topped with ketchup and hot dogs, a combination popular in the Philippines.

American colonizers introduced ketchup there in the 1890s, it seems, where it became a popular condiment. During WWII, when tomatoes were scarce, locals began making ketchup with bananas and red food dye—and never looked back.

As for the hot dogs? Once you’ve entered banana-ketchup territory, I suppose, you might as well take things all the way.

The Jollibee menu also offered burgers, french fries and Palabok Fiesta, a traditional noodle dish featuring sautéed pork and egg, but I ordered the $10.49 “Perfect Pair”: ChickenJoy with gravy and a side of Jolly Spaghetti.

The clerk who rang us up and assembled our order from pre-boxed items waiting under the heat lamp struck me as deeply uninterested in his job. Eden, who’s visited Jollibee in the Philippines, said the service there is much cheerier: “They’ll say, ‘Welcome! Jolly Day! What can I get you?’” she said,

I tried to imagine this happening in NYC, and failed.

We carried orange trays to the back room and performed the grand unboxing. I’d been given a leg rather than the requested thigh, but Eden said it was much larger than the chicken legs served in the Philippines.

The spaghetti triggered instant nostalgia. Remember Franco-American SpehgettiOs in a can? Grandma Kadet served them to me with buttered Wonder Bread. It was mushy, salty, sweet and one of my favorite foods. Jolly Spaghetti tasted just like that.

I washed it down with the super sugary Guava Quencher. “I’m gonna be so f—ing high!” I said happily.

And the leg? I took a bite. “This chicken is sensational!”

I’d read that Jollibee plans to spin off its international division for a U.S. IPO next year. I’m calling my broker.

I pressed Eden for more info, including intel on the creepy bee mascot.

“He’s just like, happy to be here, welcoming,” she said. “The literal Jolly Bee. He’s like, ‘Yeah, I want you to have Jolly Spaghetti. Like, have your ChickenJoy. It’s gonna make your day better. He’s not stealing hamburgers from people, like the Hamburglar.”

Everyone had recommend the $3 Peach Mango Pie, so I went back for that along with the more exotic ube (purple yam) pie.

Both were fried pastries packaged in cardboard sleeves, much like the apple pie at McDonald’s. They also tasted like a McDonald’s apple pie, offering that generically sweet fast food “fruit” flavor characterizing many chain restaurant desserts.

“The pie crust and the fruit filling also taste pretty much the same,” I noted.

“But a different texture!” said Eden.

“Yes, there’s like, goopy sweetness and crunchy sweetness,” I conceded.

Picking at crumbs, we decided that Jollibee is like one of those dreams where everything is slightly off. You’re at what looks to be a McDonald’s, but there’s banana-ketchup spaghetti and purple yam pie on the menu, so you just go with it.

I also liked thinking about how we introduced fast food to the Philippines, they adapted it, and now they are serving it back to us. A strange game of telephone! Perhaps I’ll reinvent Jollibee with a NYC twist—smiling cockroach mascot and all—and send it back to the Philippines, just to keep the game going.

Will I return to Jollibee? Only if I was bringing a first-timer. The fun is in the novelty. But Eden said her love was reaffirmed. “I do think I will have a jolly day,” she said, “Thanks to Jollibee.”

CAFÉ ANNE, a free weekly newsletter about NYC, is created by Brooklyn journalist Anne Kadet. Subscribe to get the latest issue every Monday.