Paging Alton Brown

OK, this is getting absurd. If you've ever cranked up your old cathode-ray in the early evenings and happened to flip to the Food Network, you've invariably caught Mr. Alton Brown in action. Part chef, part food anthropologist, part scientist, he attacks cooking with vigor and humor, dissecting the craft and educating viewers on the best tools, techniques and ingredients to do the job right. And as a prior cinematographer, he gets some really great camera angles: looking out from inside the fridge, the stove, the cabinets - you name it. Plus he used to have a KitchenAid mixer with airbrushed flames on it that just plain rocked.

So anyway, I occasionally catch the show thanks to the miracles of Tivo. I was happy to get a few tips, maybe learn something about cuts of beef, and then he shows up with a new series. About eating. About driving across the country on a motorcycle – a really nice motorcycle – and eating. It's called Feasting on Asphalt, and it's causing problems in this household. My problem? I want to do the same thing. Ride a motorcycle and eat. I'm slightly obsessed, actually. But since I can't just up and leave for a month to entertain this whimsy, I have a plan. My plan? Get Alton Brown out to the farm.

Since he completely missed Pennsylvania during the journey, I think it's a perfect idea if he were to come to the farm for a few days. We could take a drive around the back roads, chow down on some local Pennsylvania Dutch food, and shoot the shit. I'll even give him a place to sleep, cook him a meal and make him a proper martini (though I still disagree with his somewhat meager use of vermouth). I say we Google bomb Alton Brown and see what happens. Just link Alton's full name to this post, and maybe we'll get somewhere. Do you know Alton? Ask him to skip out of the Iron Chef thing and stop in for a visit.

Mr. Brown, are you listening? Whaddaya say?