Dilla Deliria

Take the Dilla and Run

2006-05-21T13:51:00.000-04:00

Emmigration was my muse. I knew this would be my last chance at Deliriamnesty. Dozens of readers awaited new posts. At a bloggerheads: the semester was ending, and there was precious little time between being accused of paintball vigilantism by the BroPo (innocent, for the record) and saying my peaces to various Cuban/Brazilian/Newyorican residents-in-waiting to end the blogjam. I gave He Hate Me a bittersweet farewell, and prepared for a Sweet'n'Sour swansong of my own.

Instead of the traditional shredded cheese, I ripped apart slices of Swiss and cheddar and layed them out like bathers on the deck of my chili-dilla. The turkey got the hand treatment just as the Ratty's footsoldiers were snatching away the lunch meat tongs. I doused the thing.

I threw that bad boy on and let it roast...the cheese got a suntan on the Southwestern squasher, where the Roots and Shoots are picked. I've never been a watcher. I wandered off, to the North, were a frozen soft-serve delight was just waiting for me to sprinkle a fractured cone all over it.

Back at the table, I sat in perfect contentment between my slowly melting frosted Great North and dillacacy-quality South of the Border delight. A grand adios, and hopefully just a preview of September's triumphs to come. Hasta la vista, my senorita...la Refectoria.

Nice Turnout in the CIT Tonight

2006-05-01T01:16:00.000-04:00

Well, it's been a while, all too long, and that's pretty unpardonable. I guess I can only attempt to pledge that it's been time devoted to worthwhile pursuits.

In my breast pocket there are two tickets stamped "Brown University Food Service" with serial numbers 005352 and 008874. I'm saving them up for the next time something special happens. I'm saving them up for the two words that make my culinary salvation come down to me, in the flesh: steak dilla. Until then, I'm on hiatus.

Many of you may have seen this (down near the bottom). I present to my most loyal and patient visitors--or RSS subscribers--a pair of poems based on that very piece. The second one has been run through a sort of N+7 machine, except I used the AP Stylebook. The results are only marginally quesa-related, but I hope you'll forgive.

#1: Donuts
#2: Yon dilla

Rec

2006-04-21T20:11:00.000-04:00

HEY FUCKERZ PUT UR JALAPENOZ UP INSIDE UR DILLAZ.

Fat Everyday

2006-03-02T01:03:00.000-05:00

Dear Dilla Fellowship,
These are trying times. The tub of guacamole has dried up, salsa is sparsa, and the dilla grilla is all-too-often unwarmed. In an age like this, it's a natural human impulse to turn to the spiritual. Al Qaedilla has turned to the Prophet, to bloodshed, and a madman's quest for profile views. But for those of us who don't think "tha Base" is so jihot, we're left with a certain uncertainty about where to find aid and comfort.
I questioned no longer when I walked into the Refectory today. The answer was right before my eyes, like the Virgin Mother in the grilled cheese on the Roots & Shoots line: Lent.
I ask only for your advice: what dilla component shall I dispose of for the next forty days? Which part has the necessary gravity, the appropriate sacerdotal character? I'm eager for your comments and spiritual advice.
Charitably yours,
Godilla

Raise Your Swords

2006-02-24T13:47:00.000-05:00

That dilla was for the Tamil people. No regrets: dillaicious (resistance, persistence).

Official Statement

2006-02-16T06:09:00.000-05:00

Let the United States know that, with Dillah Almighty's permission, until it shuts down all sites promoting the causes of Wraps or Sandwiches, our grilling, and subsequent blogging, will forever continue on its soil.

We are eager to die for more profile views.

Ode on a Grecian Dilla

2006-02-13T22:47:00.000-05:00

O crescent shape! So lightly grilled! with flatbread
Of golden brown yet slightly undercooked,
With cucumber, olive and the trodden chickpea;
Thou, cheesy form, dost tease us out of thought
As doth eternity. Hot Panini grill!
When young generations shall their pastas waste,
Thou shalt remain, in midst of other foods
Than ours, digest in man, to whom thou say'st,
"Dilla is truth, truth dilla"-- that is all
Ye know in The Ratty, and all ye need to know.

Just Another Day at the Dilla Grilla

2006-02-13T15:49:00.000-05:00

Ingredients:
Standard tortilla; mozzarella cheese, feta cheese, carrots, mushrooms, green onions; sweet and sour sauce on the side (NOT included within the tortilla)

Grilling time:
45 seconds per side, or until the dilla is about .25 inches thick

Quantity:
Two

'Twas a ***, a dillacacy, both times. Crunchy, but still tender; tasty, but not transcendent.

Discourse on Dilla Quality

2006-02-10T18:41:00.000-05:00

"Males and females came together fortuitously as a result of chance encounters, occasion, and desire, without there being any great need for words to express what they had to say to one another. They left one another with the same nonchalance." -Rousseau

Thus was the spirit with which I approached the Ratty today, hoping for a spontaneous and possibly rapturous union with the tortilla and filling of my choice. Perhaps "nonchalance" wasn't the most exact name for my mood, but it was somewhere close. I certainly didn't expect things to turn out so badly. It happened all too fast, and I think that by analyzing where I went wrong we can discover some of the fundamental qualities of the dilla.

I should preference things by saying that, in concordance with dillattante, I don't think pre-fab "quesadillas" can truly be classified as dillas. There's something inherently wrong about expecting others to make the litany of choices necessary to approach dilla heaven, which is what we're all going for on Dilla Deliria.

I do, however, believe that the boundaries of the defidillanition should be pushed. We cannot remain locked in the solutions of the past--nothing is off the table, everything must be attempted. It was with this in mind that I attempted to create a new sort of dilla tonight. Chicken and cheese from the salad bar--yes. But I did more than that: I used the spinach tortilla, long a staple of my Josiah's experience but new ground for Dillandia. Even more drastically, I attempted to follow CH's advice by using a sauce that strikes me as the most quintessentially AZN...soy. I even sprinkled in a few drops of Worcestershire sauce, just to make things interested. I thought of the Anglo-Japanese author Kazuo Ishiguro, and his blurring of traditional cultural lines. This was to be the unification of the East and West. No longer would we be stuck within the age-old Oriental/Occidental paradigm of dillas past.

My most bold move, the coup de grace of the endeavour, was my unorthodox wrapping technique. Usually, I do one of two things: 1) simply folding the tilla over once, creating a delicious semicircle, or 2) rolling as fast as I can and hoping it doesn't come apart in the squasher. But last night I finally learned the burrito-fold method. I daringly decided to use it on my dilla.

The end result was a *, dillaster. The melding of East and West fail to rock my palate. It was bland, all too straightforward, and ultimately underwhelming. Come to think of it, it was just like Ishiguro's Never Let Me Go. Further, the burrito folding pattern was a confusing bastard contortion, blocking my attempts to appreciate the inside of the pollo-tube.

Like the revolution of 1789 that was the ultimate result of Rousseau's theory, my grand experiment ended in a disastrous mess. The way out, however, does not lie in a tyrannical centralized dilarch, pace Hobbes. A monstrously powerful state organization, even if controlled by as benevolent a leader as, say, Fatima, would inevitably do more harm than good. Give me dillasters or give me death--no pre-fabs, thank you very much.

I will end with another observation from Rousseau, one that I think applies well to us today. "We always want what is good for us, but we do not always see what it is."

Go home and cry to your mama. And while you at it, tell her I'm hungry (for a tuna melt dilla)

2006-02-08T17:50:00.000-05:00

That's right bitches! As I strutted into the Sharpe Refectory today approx. 1:21 in the PM there was only one thing on my mind: tuna melt dilla. The RZA, the GZA, Method Man, and the ODB all agree that there ain't nothin in the world like some queso, some starkist chicken of the sea, and a big fat tortilla. As we know all too well here in the clan, the whole is more than the some of its parts. As I slobbered down this south-of-the-border-afterschool-delight-lunchbox-classic I know the concept of the tuna melt dilla was going platinum. Finishing off with two glasses of whole milk, I sang praises of this dilla for the angels in heaven, as the rafters of the venerable ratty filled with the shouts of joy that emanated from the lips of Jessica, who had a bite as well. A word to the wise, however, as yummy as this dilla was, it could have been better had it not been grilled with the tuna already inside. This would have allowed the tortilla to become crispy, instead of a slightly soggy as was the case with mine. Nonetheless, I give this tuna melt dilla 3 stars, a dillacacy indeed! With that, I'm out like a ghost in the night, but not without this last ode to my tuna melt dilla:

Sunset love potion, prize sunrise sail, lay on the couch while I clip your toenails. - Wu-Tang Clan, Black Shampoo

Dill-who?

2006-02-08T17:00:00.000-05:00

It seems everyone's keen to get into the dilla game these days, even the planners who orchestrate the Ratty's Gosplan-like production schedule. Today, the line formerly known as Roots & Shoots featured mini-dillas, which were filled with mozzarella cheese and "salsa" (really, just tomatoes and scallions, which was fine by me). Diligent line workers checked the temperature of the dillas, ensuring that they were up to code.

Now, these dillas were different from the conventional Ratty dilla in two important ways: tortilla size and scale of production. Not only were these made with tiny tortillas--unavailable to the everyday dilla craftsman--they were also mass-produced, rendering the dill-aura of the snack-as-edible-art impossible. Thus it becomes difficult to evaulate today's dillas, and I won't even hazard a star rating. Let's just say that while slightly tasty, these mini-dillas were eclipsed by my astonishingly good egg salad sandwich.

Judgement

2006-02-06T13:41:00.000-05:00

The verdict is in, folks, and this thing was ***, a dillacacy. One side was overly roasted, but that also meant the cheese was particularly well-melted. I'll make more reflections when I return to the Dojo, but for now I'm signing off.

Thanks for spending a little bit of your dillay with me.

Prepare to Rock

2006-02-06T13:32:00.000-05:00

The dilla's a little bit too crisp--I had to relogin to blogger because of some sort of blogging error--but my hopes are still very high. I'll be rating my dillas from one star to four: from dillaster to dillapointment to dillacacy to dillaicious. I'll let you know which one this is in my next post.

Cook Em Up

2006-02-06T13:29:00.000-05:00

My first eDillaeXperience is in the sandwich squasher right now--so I'll have to be quick. Standard white tortilla, chicken, sweet and sour, and some onions. It worked last night, and it can work now. Back to the creation station!

Livedilla

2006-02-06T13:16:00.000-05:00

I'm here in the Sharpe Refrectory to liveblog the creation of my first e-dilla. I've eaten many dillas (Ratty slang for quesadillas) in my time, but never when combined with the power and majestic force of the blog. In just a few moments I'll leave my chair to gather the raw materials of the dilla--quesadilla bread, chicken, sweet & sour sauce, maybe a few onions. I'm here because this is where the story is--through the lens of the dilla we can reimagine and rediscover the brotherhood of man. Unfortunately, I don't have a digital camera, so the lens of the dilla will have to be entirely metaphorical.

Origins

2006-02-06T12:59:00.000-05:00

It is said that in the beginning the natives of this land would form concoctions out of the raw materials of the earth, veritable golems of the wind and the sand and the soil, using the spells of their ancestors to make the manna of the land. Transformed into conveniently hand-sized portions of tortilla and filler by the mysterious interplay of atavistic mortar and pestle, these handfuls of stardust were known as...dillas.

The captivity narratives have told us the tale of their development, their maturation, and their eventual perfection as conduits of the above. The European settlers who came to the New World--crude, undillalized specimens of humanity--knew not the secrets of the vastly more advanced "savages." They came with sticks of fire and blankets of pox, and the secret of the dilla was lost.

But not forever.