Category: Flavor Town USA

Calling all gluttons, picky eaters, fry cooks, servers: get on the grill with the burnt edges for HFR. Welcome to “Flavor Town USA,” where food writing takes on a whole new spin.

Flavor Town USA Poetry: “On Eggs” by Evan Williams

Scrambled poached over easy over medium over hard sunny side up hard boiled soft boiled screaming with tabasco with salsa with toast with ketchup omelette omelet omlet om nom nom let benedict pope benedict catholic eggs fertilized unfertilized Rocky Balboa eggs ostrich eggs emu eggs fish eggs caviar cavalier to spend so much golden eggs …
“Friendship Noses,” a Flavor Town USA poem by Adam Coday

The moment it’s worth it, I’ll eatthe pickled Brussels sprouts. —the moment I prefer the needleto fix the wrinkles, or go full hamand fulfill the pact. —the moment I’m willingto endure the accidentagain, only near an edge this timeon a floating bridge as I regrethaving put the glass-shatter-rescuing thingin the glove compartment, fucken seat belt,and…
“Debt,” a Flavor Town USA nonfiction essay by Christopher Bowen

Are you hungry the way I used to be? When I was a culinary student, I was always hungry and thought people will need to eat, too. They will always need me here for that and I’d always have a job because of that. I wrote and traveled, too. These were a few of the…
“When the Chicken Slowly Cooks You Back,” a short story for Flavor Town USA by Harrison Cook

When my grandpa was on the farm, she snapped around one thousand chicken necks and in one day killed, boiled, and dressed over one hundred chickens by herself. Word travels fast in small town Iowa; hops county to county and before long my grandma, or more so the image of the frenzied farm wife snapping…
Danny Caine: Three Flavortown Poems from Vol. 9

Last Will & Testament When I die bury me at Randall Park Mallbeside the pebbled fountain where coiny wateronce bubbled, by the stage where Tiffany sneakersonce danced and twirled. For the service set out rowsof Brookstone massage chairs so the whir of the Shiatsuhums as my Auntie Anne delivers a prayer through saltytears. Let her…
Tales from the Crust, an anthology of pizza horror edited by David James Keaton & Max Booth III, reviewed by Ann Davis-Rowe

I love pizza. I could eat it at least every day, perhaps even every meal. So when I had the opportunity to review Tales from the Curst: An Anthology of Pizza Horror, edited by David James Keaton and Max Booth III, I was stoked! But also, admittedly, a little concerned—what if these stories turned me…
Fiction by Marcus Pactor: “Cake”

—after Blake Butler The cake reminded me of the twins’ wet sludge food. I could never shovel it well enough for them. My wife often replaced me halfway through their meals, as a mercy. I did not slice, then, so much as scoop dessert into a bowl. It tasted of egg and hair. That last…
Fiction: Peter Clarke’s “Untitled in B”

My refrigerator in its old age sometimes quivers and hums when its fan turns on. The quivering is completely insignificant, but the humming, I’ve found, is B, the musical note. It’s not sharp or flat; it’s a perfect B. Just like the fan in my crotchety refrigerator, anything that moves fast enough will begin to…