​Gut Check will do anything to get smarter. From eating the recommended amount of fish to keeping our gray matter's precious fatty tissue lubricated to challenging our brainsicles with crossword puzzles and chess, we'll jump at the chance to gain (or, more likely in our case, attempt to preserve) even the smallest fraction of an IQ point. But will slogging down can after pricey can of so-called brain tonics really make us geniuses? We doubt it, but we were willing to plunk down the cash money and put in the hours to find the answer.

It got us imagining a smarter world. Taking a cue from that app where you have to solve math problems to avoid texting while drunk, what if we had to solve for the square root every time we opened the fridge? What if our cars made us spell four-syllable words before we could turn the key in the ignition? What if, instead of working on boring projects, preparing PowerPoint presentations for our coworkers to sleep through, we were expanding our minds in a measurable way every day? What if we lived in a world where the satisfying crack of an aluminum can was the international symbol for impending mental heavy lifting? All right, y'all, we're gonna down this dendrite crack and then do some serious thinking!

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​As the comments on our first Kräftig post prove, there's no consensus on the new lager from William K. Busch. Opinions range from:

I just sat down and had the two beers, both equally horrible. They taste bland and smell like a watery pilsner. They should just stay at home and realize that disposable income cannot buy a good beer. Get original.

to:

Tried Kraftig Lager today and found it to be robust, flavorful, and very smooth and drinkable for an American Lager. I'm spoiled after living in Germany for 21 years....This Lager puts Budweiser to shame. Best American Lager I've had here.

Sly old Gut Check knows from long experience that when presented with conflicting opinions regarding alcoholic beverages, the proper course of action is as plain as "that thing" on Assistant Principal Hogarth's face: Raid the Gut Check International HQ petty cash stash, round up a colleague or three and get our drink on.

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Kholood Eid

The Fazoli's breadsticks

​You always have Gut Check at all-you-can-eat. Add "breadsticks" to the end of that, and we're trembling with excitement to binge on as many carbs as possible.

Today, we pit against each other two chains known for their all-you-can-eat breadsticks: Fazoli's and Olive Garden. 

Day One (yes, we split this over two days so as to avoid cardiac arrest) brought us to Fazoli's. After ordering a triple-cheese double slice of pizza, we found an empty booth and mentally prepared ourselves for the only benefit of dining inside a Fazoli's: endless breadsticks.

Even if you pace yourself, no amount of preparation can help with the nausea that will ensue.

The pizza comes with two barely warm, soggy, spongy sticks of shameful caloric proportions. Sometimes, such excessive calorie intake can be justified.

In this case, it couldn't. Definitely not a good sign of what was to come.

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Gut Check was craving a big sloppy gob of calories the other day when it hit us: Time to go to Kentucky Fried Chicken. After all, KFC is the brains behind the Double Down, the breadless chicken sandwich with the bacon, cheese and the devil himself (we call him "The Colonel") hiding inside. More >>

​Domino's can't be credited for much in the realm of pizza-making, but its marketing campaign works. Sort of. After having tried Domino's many times, we'd written the crust off as cardboard and the sauce as flavorless. While the self-deprecating "we-used-to-suck-real-bad-but-we're-better-now!" ad campaign didn't convince us, it did make us curious. That curiosity deepened when Domino's introduced its new artisan pies.

Meanwhile, Papa John's exists as the chain-pizza-joint favorite, at least at Gut Check HQ. It's definitely not gourmet, definitely not healthy, but it's good enough -- and it gives us an excuse to dip things in garlic butter, an action which, if not condoned by a restaurant, would seem gluttonous and egregious. Thank you, Papa John's, for making this embarrassing-but-delicious condiment socially acceptable (and giving us the option to request extra for $.50). While the Papa doesn't call his pies "artisan," he does offer a selection of comparable specialty pizzas.

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​For years now, parents have been freaking out about the Obesity Crisis, pulling bread from the very mouths of their children and causing them to become anorexic by the age of six. They have castrated Ronald McDonald, taken a piss on Happy Meal toys, and banned soda and chips from some school vending machines. Now, they have set their sights on Halloween -- the one thing, besides the amusement park, that a little kid used to be able to look forward to. (Please don't take Halloween away from Gut Check...um...we mean the children!)

Their accomplices: Angie's Kettle Corn and Snyder's Pretzels. Both companies have decided that the perfect treats to grace the bottom of a faded pillow case are mini-sized versions of their everyday fare.

So how can a child find satisfaction in these relatively healthful substances on the night of All Hallow's Eve? We're not saying we'd recommend either over, say, a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup, but if you have to give into the obesity fear-mongerers and choose one of these snacks, which would it be?

Your trustworthy Gut Check correspondent is here. And we're taking this all-important question to Fight Club Sandwich.

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Sarah Baraba

The gyro at Gyro House

​In September Gut Check reported on the conflict raging between two gyro joints in the Loop: Gyros in the Loop (571 Melville Avenue; 314-725-5343) and the Gyro House (6152 Delmar Boulevard; 314-721-5638).

After the death of the Gyro House's long-time owner Ahmed Eltawmi, the restaurant moved east down Delmar Boulevard near Pi, and Gyros in the Loop opened up in Eltawmi's old location. Some punches were thrown, cops were called, a lawsuit was filed, and needless to say the two gyro restaurants aren't exactly chummy. Signs out front of the two eateries are indicative of the feud: Smiling down from the Gyros in the Loop's sign is a curiously similar likeness to the late Eltawmi, and blazing in neon below the Gyro House's name is "ORIGINAL," lest Loop-goers forget who forged this territory first.

With bad taste lingering between the owners, Gut Check figured we'd wage a battle between the two eateries battle on just that: taste. We pitted the restaurants' namesakes against each other in a battle as epic as Achilles vs. Hector.

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​Gut Check receives a lot of press releases for new products. Many are useless, but occasionally one passes through that piques our interest. In this case, Sukhi's Gourmet Indian Cuisine made us do a double take with their promise of all-natural, authentic, complete Indian meals that can be prepared in fifteen minutes. Since many parts of the St. Louis metro area are lacking in Indian restaurants, this could be an easy and inexpensive way to get a curry fix without the trek.

But can Sukhi's possibly be as good as, say, India Palace (4534 North Lindbergh Boulevard, Bridgeton; 314-731-3333)?

We grabbed a packet of Sukhi's Korma Curry Sauce from the Brentwood Whole Foods. For less than five bucks we got a thick packet of deep green curry paste. Snipping open the packet released a fresh, tangy aroma spiked with kaffir lime.

It's a bit like "Curry Helper" -- add the seasoning packet, your own meat, and you have a meal. Mostly. The recipe called for 1 1/4 pounds of chicken (boneless and skinless) or mixed vegetables. We did half chicken breast, half fingerling potatoes cut into small chunks. After simmering the chicken and potatoes with water and the curry paste, we added one-quarter cup of whipping cream. Basmati rice and premade naan were made separately.

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​You might have sampled Nutella on a crepe, which is standard fare in France. The creamy chocolate-hazelnut spread melts on a hot, buttery crepe shell, and the combination is nothing less than divine.

However, France's neighbor to the north boasts its own sweet spread. The Belgians have always been famous for their waffles and cookies, but now they've created a real tour de force: Speculoos Spread. Speculoos, or "Biscoff" spread as its known in North America, is a thick, creamy confection with the consistency of peanut butter. To the naked eye, it even looks like peanut butter: the same brown color, many shades lighter than Nutella. If you've ever flown Delta, you might have been served the cookie version of the spread (albeit in shiny plastic Delta wrappers). Both the spread and the cookie taste like gingerbread, with a warm cinnamon aftertaste.

It's hard to put to equally delicious contenders up for the prize of Best European spread. Some might say it's like comparing apples and oranges: Nutella has a strong chocolate-hazelnut taste, and Biscoff tastes more like peanut butter, just with a little more cinnamon. Gut Check had a hard time finding Biscoff, but when Straub's ran an ad for it in the paper, it set the stage for the duel.

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​Last week Gut Check spoke with Cheryl Hughey, the Ballwin-based writer who recently published Beyond Bacon Grease, a cookbook chronicling Hughey's journey to better health thought diet and nutrition. She lost 100 pounds in six months. But how does her modified diet taste?

This weekend we made Hughey's pasta con broccoli and compared it to a recipe purported to be the original from Cunetto's House of Pasta (5453 Magnolia Avenue; 314-781-1135).

Pasta con broccoli is really just the most basic Alfredo sauce - cream, garlic and Parmesan cheese - whisked together until just warm, then tossed with cooked pasta. The only difference is the addition of broccoli and mushrooms. Neither recipe diverges from this basis.

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