Fieri Foods are inspired by lots of things: shirts with flames on them, L’Oreal Feria #110, shirts with dice on them, sunglasses, Sammy Hagars (so excited to eventually make Red Rocker Margarita Chicken, but someone should really tell Sammy his nickname makes him sound like a dog dick).

Dirty Bird Sketti is so much more specific.

Guy says, ”Cookin’, jammin’ the tunes, and hangin’ with friends and family, that’s what I’m talkin’ about. I created this rockin’ dish while my bro Eric Lindell was bustin’ out his tune ‘Dirty Bird.’” For a guy named Guy, he sure hates the letter G. It’s like he’s being sponsored by apostrophes. Did that joke work? I can’t tell if it worked. 

WOULD YOU LISTEN TO ME. Going on and on, when there’s so much important jammin’ and tune bustin’ to do …

Alright. So, Eric Lindell makes beachy, innocuously soulful rock songs. Guy Fieri makes palatable pasta dishes with cubes of chicken rolled in spice-dirt. It was only a matter of time until these two things came together on a plate atop a leopard-print table cloth. And it was called “sketti.”

“Sketti.” Makes me think of a four year old who refuses to potty train, sitting on the floor in a dirty diaper and demanding spaghetti for dinner, even though he already has tomato sauce smeared on his face from a previous meal. Either that or the scene in “Gummo” when the kid’s sitting in dirty bathwater, eating spagetti covered in ketchup, and drinking a tall glass of milk. In life, it’s not nearly so bad as either of these things.

You know what is bad? The price of cayenne pepper. Seven dollars an ounce? IN THIS ECONOMY? Mr. McCormick is sitting pretty on a throne made of solid gold and blood diamonds somewhere (Spice World, obvioursly). 

Because I’m dedicated to a blog that earns me no money but brings me so much joy, I actually bought the shit. And lots of other shit, too!

No, like, actual shit. Three-dollar yellow wine and a two-bit yellow dog with a drinking problem. 

I bought Vidalia onions because I’m from the South. And I bought them even though they came from Bland Farms, which probably has a hard time competing with Very Delicious and Filled With Flavor Farms. 

Hey, look. Now we’re cooking. These are the dirty and the bird parts. Chicken chunks rolled in a smoky, spicy mixture of expensive things. Again, dumbdick over here didn’t cut the recipe in half (to serve four instead of eight), so that’s TWO POUNDS of chicken. Oh, and it’s cooking in bacon grease. 

Guy wants the people who make this dish to also make marinara sauce from scratch. PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFT.

Sauce n’ meat n’ things. Just splattering all over a teapot. 

You’re not going to believe it (I’m not sure why you wouldn’t believe it), but I forgot to take a picture of the finished product. But it was red, vaguely Italian, and filled with bacon, so just imagine it looked something like this …