Cabin Fever

It hasn't been real crappy, but it's still winter. Fighting the doldrums one fisticuff at a time, I think of summer moments, this one in particular:

Che Gruyere: May I have a slow gin fizz

Country Club Teen Waitress: ...?...

Che Gruyere: It's delicious

Taking a Moment to Raise My Head from the Holiday Trough

Eating, drinking, and being merry has left my brain full of holiday mush, so how about a quick list of highlights?

1. Crown pork roast with cranberry apple stuffing. This was the second of my mother-in-law's pork contributions made special for the birth of our savior, the first being a ham fresh from a pastured piggy. Both renditions of the other white meat were incredible.

2. Egg nog. I'm getting really good at making this, and electric mixers procured from wedding registries only increase my awesome power. I've used this recipe for three years running, but I cut down on the booze to please the crowd (and keep booze on hand for those who prefer a little nog with their booze).

3. Buffalo chicken dip. Put the word "buffalo" in front of pretty much anything and I'll eat it. This was no exception.

4. Wii Monopoly. Simply shake the Wii remote and pray you don't land on Boardwalk when there's a hotel there. The game does the rest.

Guest Post: My Lucky Day

D-tron sez:

"I received a beautiful tin of cookies from one Mrs. Fidel Gastro. Chocolate chip and peanut butter with Hershey's kisses. They are delicious. And I mean it. If I had a dollar for every time I said that, I would have one dollar."

Today's Qdoba

Was actually Marathon Grill. In the four months I have been here, this was my first time patronizing the Philadelphia staple. The Cuban burger was a regrettable audible (I went in fully prepared to order chicken salad). The play on the Latin panini doesn't work with a hamburger patty in lieu of roast pork. D-tron's turkey burger with proscuitto was definitely the better option, and I was consumed with food envy.

Fidel: Hey D-tron, would you ever consider using your powers for evil?
D-tron: I don't think I'm programmed that way. Should we hog and jog?
Fidel: You mean dine and dash?
D-tron: Whatever. I'll go to the bathroom first.

Hogging and jogging ensues.*


*Actual events may not have included hogging and jogging. D-tron, thanks for lunch.

Buffalo Chicken Dip

This is a Christmas Miracle.

Cheesesteak Tally

Pat's: 2
Geno's: 0
Delassandro's: 2
Steve's: 1
Street Meat: 3
Other: 4.5
Total: 12.5

Today I am eating a mushroom cheesesteak from a food cart over on 16th Street. I forget the name, but it's on the west side and close to Market. I know that "healthy cheesesteak" is an oxymoron, but this one has a "guiltless" taste to it (not a bad thing). It's almost as if I could eat three of them without filling up. Buen provecho.

Lunchtime stroll highlight: The junkie that stopped me to ask if "Holiday" has one or two "Ls" before he put sharpie to cardboard. Analog spell check. Brilliant.

Naptime, Willpower, and the Job Market

I just got back to the office with some mediocre sesame chicken from the Chinese food truck on the east side of 18th Street between JFK and Market. The dude in the cubicle next to me is enjoying a lunchtime nap, snoring loudly, mouth agape (camera phones: what can't they capture?). Considering the current job market, it's probably a real stupid idea to play chicken pong* with him, but boy is it hard to resist. Buen provecho.

*Chicken chunks are the ping pong balls, his mouth is the cup. If I succeed in making the shot, hilarity ensues.

Gift Baskets

Amidst all the layoffs, party cancellations, and doorbuster stampedes, gift baskets manage to survive. The first of a hopeful many showed up at the office doorstep today, and so far I've eaten a half of a sweet sorpressata link, one eighth of an asiago cheese wheel, and a teeny tiny chocolate and hazelnut truffle. But, since nobody else seems to be interested, it's likely I'll take the whole thing down myself. Buen provecho.

Buffalo Wings?

Although they're dubbed with the same name as the bar food staple, the only thing Coyote Crossing's interpretation shares is the chicken part. The deep fryer is replaced with the slow cooker (or an oven set to low), Frank's Red Hot is replaced with god-knows-what-but-holy-shit-it's-delicious (my first guess would have to be a modified mole sauce), and the blue cheese is replaced with sour cream. The result is a tender treat that requires zero effort to wrest from a stubborn bone. As the chicken melts in your mouth, spice and sweet battle each other until you finally have to swallow. It's enough to make you forget about those other buffalo wings. Buen provecho.

Coyote Crossing is nestled among the blue collar townhomes of Conshohocken, PA. In addition to delicious ass wings, their margaritas and entrees do not disappoint. And if dancing's your thing, DJ Strike spins on Friday nights (but both times we have been there, the place was deserted).

Today's Qdoba

Queso burrito with pork, corn salsa, hot salsa, pico de gallo. It may well have been a Top 25 burrito.

D-tron sez, "Don't put my face on the internets."

I say, "Shut up and eat your burrito. Would you hand me a napkin?"

Fist fighting ensues.*


*Actual fist fighting may not have occurred.

Neat Little Bows

I watched National Treasure 2: Book of Secrets last night (and you can punch me in the face for that). Despite Nic Cage's uncanny resemblance to a burn victim, I enjoyed it. Not so much for the shitty CG and lightning fast puzzle solving, but more for the fact that I knew a happy ending was inevitable, and with it a full update of the characters post-denouement. Way to go, Disney.

Surprise!

I'm 95% sure that the cart guy on 17th and Market put pastrami instead of bacon on my breakfast hoagie. I'm 100% sure that we're on to something here. There's a place in Salt Lake City called Crown Burger whose signature sandwich is a cheeseburger topped with pastrami. If you subscribe to the "everything's better with bacon" maxim (and if you actually put bacon on everything), I recommend spending a week trying this out with pastrami. It will change your life (or kill you). Buen provecho.

Worst Snack Ever

As a man on the move, sometimes life hands me lemons and I'm too busy to make lemonade. Having less than a moment to spare between pointless meetings that didn't require my presence, I grabbed a pretzel hot dog yesterday. Holy shit was it shitty. The dough wasn't fully cooked around the pretzel, so I alternated crunching and chewing a pretzel that literally tasted like cardboard (I took a bite of a cardboard box when I got home just to test the palate). As a young boy, I ate moldy bread thinking that the bluish spores were berries. I'd take the moldy bread any minute of any hour of any day over the pretzel hot dog that's probably still making its way through me now. Buen provecho.

Cheesesteak Tally

Pat's: 2
Geno's: 0
Delassandro's: 2
Steve's: 1
Street Meat: 2
Other: 4.5
Total: 11.5

Having Ma and Pa Gastro in town (stay tuned for a report on all the misadventures) gives just cause to eating Philadelphia's signature sandwich more than once, especially since they decided to stay for an entire week (yes, a whole week). Last night's choice was Chubby's, a place directly across the street from Delassandro's, who happen to be closed Sundays. Great fries, above average steak (the meat has a great seasoning), but the fake Cheez Whiz took it down a couple notches. Buen provecho.

Top Five, er, Four Sandwiches

Today, over crepes at the crepe place next to Giwa, D-tron pulled out a huge gun (like the one in the Clint Eastwood movie), pointed it at my head, and made me name my five favorite sandwiches. Sadly, I could only name four, but since D-tron didn't really have a huge gun, I was still standing after lunch. Any suggestions for number 5?

Top 5:
1. Cheesesteak (duh)
2. Fat Knight (similar to the Fat Darrel, which is now copyrighted by Darrel himself, because he's a paper chaser. Hell, I'd do the same)
3. Croque Monsieur
4. Chicken Parm
5. __________

Oh yeah, the crepe place was the kind of place you'd go with your Rittenhouse Square living grandmother (if you had one). Our waitress, even though (s)he looked like Grace Jones, was about as nice as you can be while still keeping it authentique. My overpriced crepe was topped with an over-fried egg whose yolk was more mealy than oozy. The crepe itself had the right sponginess, but overall, it lacked that certain je ne sais quoi that satiates you. I wanted to order another one, but fearing the wrath of faux-Grace Jones (and realizing my lunch hour was almost up), I left hungry. If you're in the mood for a snack or a light lunch (but not a quick one), I'd say go ahead and give it a try. But if you're hungry, you should opt for one of the top 4 above. Buen provecho.

You Want Fries With That?

With great risk comes great reward (or the loss of your tailored french cuffed Brooks Brothers shirt), and a perfect demonstration of this can be found here. In my case, I think I'm just trying to make my junk food more efficient.

Beefsteak Post Script

Yep, that's vanilla ice cream over tenderloin. A more literal interpretation of the hot beef sundae.

Beefsteak Redux

When the cold winds blow in from the north (or when James googles "beefsteak dinner"), the beefsteak-as-fundraiser season is upon us. Last year's outing left us begging for more, and even the recent move to Philadelphia couldn't prevent me from taking in another beefsteak as soon as I got the chance. With my expectations boiling over, I recruited a fellow glutton to join me on the two hour drive to Verona, NJ, for the Broken Arrow District Boy Scouts of America Annual Beefsteak Dinner. If you think that's a mouthful, have a gander at the (crappy) pictures.

This year proved to be a much more muted affair compared to last, although I'm certain the beer was much more abundant this time around. I imagine this windfall can be blamed on those in attendance, a sparse crowd with a median age of 49. And while the Verona Community Center was a nice facility, the low ceilings and dim lights added to the "4pm dinnertime at the nursing home" ambience. Thankfully, nobody tried to give us the wrong pills or steal our wallets. I'm getting off topic here. Back to the food, which was catered by Nightingale, the original beefsteak catering service since the 1930s. We were running a bit late (Che was even later), and by the time we arrived, the tenderloin was making its final rounds. Thankfully, the two waiters circling the dining room concetrated their efforts on our table, and before we knew it, our plates were piled almost a foot high with buttery tenderloin and crispy freedom fries. It was enough to satisfy, but not enough to make us sick, which was a bit of a disappointment, especially because the final hour of the event did not have a comedy hypnotist to help the food settle. Instead, there were some pretty crappy raffles, made only crappier by DG's preference for statistics over gambling (he put all his tickets into one basket). As the crowd shuffled out, making it awkward for us to stick around and drink, we figured it was time for us to do the same. We were graciously thanked by the organizers for showing up, who were quite surprised that their beefsteak had attendees from both NYC and Philadelphia. We thanked them back by taking beers for the road. Until next year's carnage, buen provecho.

How Dry I Am

The food dehydrator is up and running. The first desiccation? Beef jerky, of course. Sadly, the meat was too thin and I slept too long and I wound up with brittle shards of cure. This was unfortunate until I had my first bite, which was a spicy and salty punch in the face. The marinade concentrated itself into what was left of the meat, providing an intense flavor that whisked me away to my days backpacking through the wilderness*.

The best part? It's so easy to make. A bowl of soy sauce, liquid smoke, red pepper flakes, and any other rugged ingedients you can dream up. The worst part? Waiting the 24 plus 12 hours to get to the finished product, but that beats the old timey days when it took the better part of a week AND you had to worry about wild animals all up in your business, potentially eating not just the jerky, but your face to boot.


*actual backpacking may not have occurred

Double and Possibly Quadruple Standards

Reason 8,037 I'll never move back to Utah.