I’ve never seen a portly mailman and an unemployed hipster have this much fun making a German delicacy. Kramer and Newman gleefully prepare sausages in Jerry’s kitchen after watching, what one can only surmise is, the most in-depth instructional video on how to make your own sausages ever filmed. Links hang from Jerry’s cabinets and countertops much to the dismay of his senior citizen trainer, Mr. Mandelbaum, in this brief but memorable scene.
*Remember, this is a countdown, so 20-11 will be in this gallery; 10-1 are coming soon. Thank you.
Taking a note from Jimmy’s playbook, George has become accustomed to referring to himself in the third person. He’s also become a habitual kung pao devourer, the more heat the better. To the untrained, cuisine-ignorant eye, the beads of sweat rolling down George’s face at lunchtime could be misconstrued as a guilty conscience regarding some missing Yankees equipment. However, what Costanza’a boss, Mr. Wilhelm, cannot understand is that George simply likes his chicken spicy.
Just a salad. That’s what Jerry orders at a steakhouse. The look on his date’s face says it all — it’s like the second before the killer strikes an unknowing victim in a horror flick. In order to rectify the situation, Jerry loads up on date #2 when his lady-friend cooks some homemade mutton. Not the most talked-about meat by any means, and clearly not the most eaten either, as Jerry stuffs the barely chewed dinner into his coat pockets. Looks like he’s going to get away with hoodwinking the host until Elaine borrows the jacket and is stalked by hungry dogs all the way home.
The question that has plagued generation after generation — is soup a meal? The good people at Panera Bread might whole-heartedly disagree — that is if they’re not selling you the soup/sandwich combo. After Bania bestows upon Jerry a free Armani suit, Jerry agrees to take Bania out for a nice dinner in return. At Mendy’s, Bania fulfils his modest appetite by ordering a soup, and decides to “save the meal” for another time. So what was to be a one-time annoyance has been stretched out into at least a two-date affair.
The ritualistic meeting of two young lovers’ parents predates Meet The Fockers by, and I’m only guessing here, centuries. When Susan Ross’s parents break bread with Frank and Estelle Costanza, they don’t actually break the bread that George’s parents bring as an offering — the marble rye goes uneaten. Not allowing this transgression to stand, Frank decides the loaf in question must come home with them. Probably not the classiest move, but this isn’t San Diego and Mr. Ross is not Ron Burgandy. In order to correct the faux pas, Jerry agrees to buy another rye and hand it off to George as a replacement. However an “old bag” purchases the last one available, and Jerry must resort to a good ole fashion mugging. I’ve heard of a Hamburglar, but this is ridiculous.
There are practices that are acceptable in private, under the rules and regulations we enforce upon ourselves, free from judgment and criticism. Then there are the rules society lays out for us, most of which are agreeable and would fall into that middle section of a Venn Diagram if we had to display the common ground area via a visual reference. I would say that eating out of the garbage, while justifiable in this particular case, falls into the section that exists in the world of George Costanza alone. It’s irrelevant that the éclair, so irresistible as it sat upon its doily atop the refuse pile, wasn’t touching any other piece of waste. Only bums and raccoons eat trash. And no woman wants to date a bum or a raccoon.
Mr. Pit’s quirky way to enjoy a candy bar actually makes perfect sense. Chocolate gets hot, melts, and smudges on both hands and clothing. One could assume that the audience of a reputable network like PBS might also enjoy a good Snickers, Milky Way, or Whatchamacallit with a fork and knife as well. The etiquette never caught on, but the spirit of a revolution is there — alive in the tines of that metal fork as it pierces the firm coating of our favorite chocolate treat.
The American Dream weaves tales of the underdog coming to a country where anything is possible, every goal is attainable, and anyone’s life can be white picket fences. Babu Bhat is the antithesis of the American Dream. It’s not for lack of effort though — he might have just trusted the wrong well-intentioned Manhattan resident. When Jerry suggests that Babu abandon a menu of tacos and franks & beans in favor of a more authentic Pakistani experience, his inexperienced, restaurateur heart is in the right place. Despite the change in décor and bill of fare — the place remains like Willy Wonka’s closed-down factory. Nobody ever goes in. And nobody ever comes out!
Delivery zones are a tricky thing in New York City. In fact, they’re non-negotiable. At the same time, it’s almost impossible to defect from “your” Chinese joint once you’ve grown fond of their styles and flavor profiles. Elaine is just dying to try China Panda’s new flounder dish, so much so that she’ll pose as a resident in a janitor’s closet to fool the delivery boy, and do the chores of a janitor herself in order to dupe the apartment tenants. It’s the long con, boys, and the score is a piece of fish with Asian spices, split one way.
Giving George Steinbrenner (at least Seinfeld’s rendering of him) a taste of something is only going to enable a new addiction within the Yankees’ storied owner. George, Costanza that is, feeds the fire by introducing the Boss to Paisano’s Pizza’s calzones. Normally, Newman would be the deliverer of the Italian lunch for the pair of Georges, but when the rain falls, the mailman ironically takes the day off. It’s up to Kramer to complete the order. However his new infatuation with drying and heating his clothing in the oven becomes problematic. When the Paisano behind the counter burns Cosmo’s shirt and the lanky customer tries to pay using coins, it’s the perfect storm, resulting in a calzone-less Yankees Front Office.