The McDream, Logan International, MA, August 2010

The journey to Terminal B at Logan International Airport was tortuous like watching scumbags tear down their own communities in The England. I would love to them a new one actually.

I was catching an overnight flight across the pond and I fancied a tummy tickler before my flight. The only two places open were a sandwich shop and Maccy D's. The latter was the choice as charging 10 greenbacks for a meal at the sandwich shop was scandalous. It was corporate looting. They are robbing people in broad daylight. Anyway, scanning the menu I decided to order an Angus Deluxe meal for about $7.50 or so. It was number 12 on the menu.

When I opened the carton, I almost went back to the counter to return it because the burger looked exactly like how it looked like in the picture. I never imagined this possible. But The England are the number 1 test team in the world so anything is possible. Here is photographic evidence. I did not photoshop or finger my burger in any way.

Identical twins (which image is from the Maccy D's website?)

I was really amazed when I took my first bite. I was expecting my burger to fall apart like Western economies but like the price of gold, this was rock solid. I could actually taste the beefy flavour of the 5.33 ounce patty too. Admittedly it was not as ostentatious as the offerings at Grill23 or Ruth's Chris, but it was a good quality $7 burger. If you pay £38 million, you are going to get Sergio Aguero; if you pay a lot less you get Nicklas Bendtner. This Angus Deluxe was better than Nicklas Bendter though. At least this burger hit the spot.

On a side about the sides, the fries were genuinely fake. They were perfect geometric copies of each other. Gregor Mendel would have been far more prolific if he used these fries in his laboratory instead of crossing pea plants together. By the way, the fries tasted really rather good. This was Maccy D's at its best.

The Ho Down says: "Number 12 please".

Defaulted on Thayer, Providence, RI, July 2011

Greece may have almost defaulted but I had enough liquidity to get myself over to a Greek restaurant on Thayer Street, Providence. Andrea's Restaurant was actually the place where I made up my mind to move to the crazy city of Providence. I must have bitten on a very pickled chilli that gave me severe enough brain cramp to come to that decision. Anyway, here I was again with a real life Greek person. She was not wearing a gas mask and throwing molotov cocktails. Unfortunate.

The interior has a hint of art deco about it with the booths and the busy waitresses whizzing around like worker bees looking for tips. We were stuck in the anteroom away from all the other patrons, and consequently escaped the radar of our rotund waitress. Prior to my moussaka, I had a Greek salad that consisted of the standard rabbit food. The thing that made it Greek was the sprinkle of feta cheese and one olive. Yes, one paltry olive. One olive does not make a salad a Greek salad. Even Mr. Papandreou would have scoffed at this austerity measure. Luckily my Moussaka, like the House of Representatives swooping like a caped crusader, saved the day at the last minute. It has been a while since I had moussaka- not since the glory days of being treated by the Bank of Mum and Dad with dinner at Mayday Hospital. This was pretty good. It did, however, have the specific heat capacity of water though, which was no bad thing. The aubergine was quite firm and the minced lamb was spiced sufficiently not to make you smell or taste like a drunk Brit on a Friday night. This would have been perfect for a cold winter's day to warm your cockles and leave you grinning like a smug Capitol Hill. Good thing the AC was on Arctic adding more greenback to the deficit then. With the reprieve, however, there is always going to be a backlash somewhere down the road. That backlash was in the form of the service. It was atrocious. Our waitress had as much class as a Katie Price fantasy.

The Ho Down says: Woo!-ssaka.