We dun been corn-holed!!!

Those of you who follow the media’s culinary pundits and food celebrities will be abundantly familiar with the ongoing feud between Travel Channel’s food personality Anthony Bourdain, and Food network’s host of “Semi-Homemade Cooking”, Sandra Lee.  Bourdain (chef-at-large, travel host, and hugely respected culinary author), began said feud with Lee (untrained amateur), by stating publicly in 2007 that Ms. Lee was, quote, “Pure evil”.   In more elaborative terms he was quoted as saying:

“This frightening hell spawn of Kathy Lee and Betty Crocker seems on a mission to kill her fans, one meal at a time.  She must be stopped.  Her death-dealing can-opening ways will cut a swath of destruction through the world if not contained.”

The crux of his rant was that Lee uses a disproportionate amount of pre-made, pre-packaged staples and items in her recipes (generally a 70% store-bought/30% fresh ingredient ratio).   Per Bourdain, due to the high concentration of preservatives and additives in these store-bought ingredients, her recipes yield a “cuisine” that is significantly unhealthy, and markedly LESS healthy than even the fattiest traditional-styled cooking.  He goes on further to say:

“This is simply irresponsible programming.  It’s only possible use might be as a psychological warfare strategy against the resurgent Taliban, or dangerous insurgent groups. A large-racked blond repeatedly urging Afghans and angry Iraqis to stuff themselves with fatty, processed American foods might be just the weapon we need to win the war on terror.” 

Obviously, this kind of celebrity-on-celebrity derision and ridicule sent shock waves through the foodie community, resulting in ironic laughter and general agreement from most of us who are dedicated, conscientious consumers of quality food.  At the heart of Tony’s salvo is his belief that items processed in a factory and larded with preservatives and additives are the scourge of quality eating.  And aside from Tony’s crack about Sandy’s “rack”, I don’t think he’s at all out of line in saying what he said.  Lee is peddling methods that insinuate that factory-made short cuts are an acceptable substitute for quality.  She is enabling her viewers in the art of shitty “cooking”; and her methods are wrong.  Patently and disgustingly wrong.  If Bourdain is insinuating through his “rack” comment that looks are the sole proponent in landing this former homemaker, serial divorcee, and collector of rich husbands and boyfriends her television spot, I can see where he’s coming from.  Lee’s shtick is utterly artless, in my estimation.  And no matter how comely the pitch-man (or pitch-woman), “shitty” is still “shitty”, and it will always be “shitty”.

Perhaps the most ubiquitously-listed ingredient on the product labels of the various pre-made icings, and boxed cakes, and salad dressings, and marinades, and soup mixes in Lee’s putrid arsenal is high fructose corn syrup (hereafter known in this article has HFCS).  This dietary anathema is the focus of today's article.  

HFCS is a corn-based, chemically synthesized sweetener.  Its taste and properties loosely mimic those of traditional cane and beet sugar.  Due to its markedly cheaper price over sugar, it has gradually gained a foothold in the processed foods industry, and has basically replaced real sugars as a sweetening ingredient in everything from sodas, to snack chips, to frozen dinners, to ketchup.  Even sliced bread has HFCS in it.  Shipped to cost-cutting, consumer-forsaking food manufacturers in 55 gallon drums, this sticky mess is nothing short of the Frankenstein of food additives.  And if it’s diabolical creation can be compared to Frankenstein, its effects on the health of the general public could almost be compared to the Chernobyl disaster.  All literalistic confusions with my analogy aside, this is not to irresponsibly insinuate that cancer or radiation sickness are risks to those of us consumers who ingests HFCS.  But rather, with relation to the way that HFCS has blotted out the presence of real sugar in the majority of the foods that we consume, I firmly believe that we are in the midst of a culinary nuclear winter, and we need to recognize the Faustian bargaining that processed food producers have made with the corn industry (A.K.A “Big Corn”).  Big Corn’s impact vis-à-vis HFCS on the gradual ramping up of the pigs-at-the-trough feeding phenomenon in this country since HFCS’s introduction into the American food chain is blatantly obvious to those of us who travel overseas, or even venture across our northern border into Canada.  The obesity disparity between Americans and our counterparts from other developed nations is staggering and is an utterly shocking phenomenon to behold. 

Now you might be saying to yourself, why would an amateur food writer who lionizes “gluttony” be railing against the onset of chronic nationwide obesity?  Well, for those of you keeping score at home, I’ve never held that a person should eat himself into a dire health condition.  I merely stand for the indulgence in, and the consumption of, the best quality foods and ingredients available.    I lionize immersing oneself in food cultures like that of the French, or the Italians, or the Japanese (and many others) where chemistry-experiments-gone-wrong aren’t generally turned into food additives.  And by comparison, these aforementioned cultures have a far skinnier average population, and a much longer lifespan.  So if one is going to enjoy food (and there’s nothing wrong with an occasional brief bought of gluttony), I zealously believe that what you jam into your pie-hole needs to be outstanding, and one shouldn’t settle for cheap, cut-rate quality. 

With HFCS, one cannot get any “cheaper” or more “cut-rate”.  But unfortunately, in our culture, one will invariably be finding one’s self in a situation where preservative-ladened fast food must be consumed at some point,  But let’s make no mistake, what personally makes me happy in life can’t be found on the menus of any of the big box types in the “TGI McFunster’s” pantheon of eateries.   Aside from the prolific In-N-Out Burger, I glean nearly no enjoyment from any of the big box schlock-on-the-wall joints.  And when I do eat fast food, it simply serves a “fuel”, and “fuel” only; and it is not generally a source of enjoyment.

There are volumes of articles on the ill-effects that HFCS wreaks on a person’s health, and everyone outside of our borders is more or less aware of these effects.  America is basically the only nation on the planet where HFCS is used on a large scale.  In fact, most countries have BANNED it.  Only through leverage and lobbying by Big Corn and the pursuit of fast cash by food producers has HFCS been able to invade the American food chain.   I am not in any way attempting to claim that cane or beet sugar is any type of “heath food”, because it is not.  It carries with it its own set of health risks and ill effects. Let me just briefly say that as opposed to traditional sugars, HFCS has been scientifically proven to be loaded with empty calories, metabolizes differently when ingested, and does not imbue the normal feeling of “fullness” on the consumer with the same alacrity of traditional sugars.  Ergo, one is apt to eat a whole bag of snack-chips as opposed to a third of a bag.  One might be able to easily down two sodas instead of stopping after the first one.   From the standpoint of processed food producers, this is a gold mine.  In HFCS, food and beverage companies not only have a cheaper alternative to traditional sweeteners, said “cheaper alternative” enables their customers to graze on even greater quantities of product.  Who could argue with “cheaper” AND “generates additional revenue streams”, right?  Well, for me personally, it all comes back to the fact that from a taste standpoint, HFCS sucks.  Like I said above, “shitty” is still “shitty”, and it will always be “shitty”.

Among various friends and acquaintances, I had heard rumblings and grumbling about HFCS for years.  But I first became truly aware of the crummy taste of HFCS while shopping last year at the local Sam’s Club.  In a back corner of the store, between the displays of bottled water and large distribution sodas, we found a few stray cases of what appeared to be Coca-Cola in small glass bottles.  The anomalous glass bottles instantly piqued my curiosity, as that plastic bottles were now the beverage industry’s receptacle of choice.  Glass hadn’t been used by the beverage industry on a large scale in years.  Upon closer examination, I realized that this was actually Coke from, of all places, Mexico.  I instinctively examined the English-language nutrition label that had been hastily glued to the side of the bottle.  Sure enough, the sweetener was honest-to-God cane sugar.  Not a single gram of HFCS was to be found anywhere on the ingredients list.   Without a single iota of hesitation, a scooped up a case of it and placed it in our cart.

Upon arriving home, I un-capped a bottle and poured it into a tall glass filled with ice.  What crossed my taste buds was something that I hadn’t experienced in years.  It was lighter and crisper than any Coke that I had tasted in a long, long time.  It was less bitter.  What’s more, it was much, much more refreshing.  I shook my head in disbelief.  “This tastes like…..my childhood”, I thought.

Over the next few months, I stayed away from any and all HFCS-sweetened soft drinks.  When PepsiCo introduced cane sugar-sweetened Pepsi Throwback and Mt. Dew Throwback, we bought a twelve-pack of each.  When age-old Michigan favorite, Faygo Beverage, released various limited addition sodas sweetened with cane sugar, we began to regularly buy six-packs of these.  We gradually eliminated all of the HFCS-sweetened beverages in our house, and it tasted simply awesome.

Granted, my wife and I aren’t huge soda drinkers.  I might have 1 or 2 bottles a week.  My children are allowed one bottle a week.  Maybe slightly more if we eat out at a restaurant.  So I hope I didn’t paint a picture that we were swilling pop the way secret-handshake fraternity pukes guzzle Natural Light.  Because let’s face it; soda is the equivalent of liquid candy, and daily consumption of it (irregardless of the sweetening agent) is a guaranteed recipe for poor health.  

Earlier this fall, I was traveling to Connecticut for a wedding.  Some rough turbulence on a previous flight had left my stomach in knots.  So between flights, I decided to grab a Pepsi to help settle my ailing gut.  Naturally, American airports only stock the standard HFCS sweetened variety of soda, so HFCS it was.  I think the difference in THIS Pepsi and the cane sugar sweetened Pepsi Throwback that I had been drinking at home was instantly recognizable.  For a moment I did a double-take, and actually re-examined the bottle to make sure I hadn’t accidentally grabbed a Diet Pepsi or some other low calorie alternative.  In comparison to Pepsi Throwback, the taste was markedly bitter, and the mouth-feel was heavy and ridiculously over-the-top.  To paint you a picture, if Mexicoke and Pepsi Throwback are analogous to drinking soup, HFCS Pepsi is analogous to drinking gravy.  Instead of making me feel refreshed, it made me feel generally lousy, and sorry that I had even put the corn-swill in my mouth.  Food shouldn’t make one say, “Jeez, why did I ever do that?!?!?”  They should make you say, “That was great!   That was sure worth it!!!”   Since I had the express knowledge that there was indeed a better version of the same beverage out there, the former was exactly how HFCS Pepsi made me feel.  Specifically, I felt let down and cheated.

Curiosity abound, I repeated the experiment the next day while traveling up to New Haven by train.  This time I selected a bottle of Coca-Cola.  The results of said experiment was virtually the same as when I drank the HFCS Pepsi.  It tasted bitter, heavy, non-refreshing, and generally “blech”.  I didn’t even drink 6 ounces of the twenty-ounce bottle, before I pitched the unfinished bottle in the nearest trash receptacle.  Fortunately, a few hours later, I caught a burger at Louis’ Lunch in New Haven, and washed my meal down with a cane sugar sweetened Foxon Park grape soda, and once again, everything was right with the universe.

This got me thinking.  Under controlled conditions, say perhaps the controlled conditions of a good old fashioned blind taste test, would the results be the same?  So enlisting the assistance of fellow local food whore, Jason Baker (who writes the food blog www.Iatemichigan.com); and his lovely wife, we set out to prove or disprove my theory of cane sugar supremacy.

The various sodas that I selected for this experiment were as follows:

1)      Mexicoke vs. Coke

2)      Pepsi Throwback vs. Pepsi

3)      Mountain Dew Throwback vs. Mountain Dew

4)      Limited Addition Faygo Orange, Grape, and Redpop vs. Regular Faygo Orange, Grape and Redpop.

I figured this list gave us a good variety of beverages, and it included ones that were of nationwide distribution along with those of regional distribution.  My wife graciously volunteered to serve as the proctor of this blind taste test; and sequestering herself in our pantry, she ensured that all of the sodas were poured away from our prying, biased eyes.  All that we saw of each sample was a small plastic cup labeled “A” or “B”. 

I’m sure some of you are thinking, don’t these lame-ass fracking people have anything better to do on a Friday night than sample soda pop?  If it’s any consolation, when Jason and I got done testing the above-mentioned sodas, we went ahead and pounded a bunch of craft beers.  Maybe there’s a beer tasting article in our collective futures, I dunno.

The results of the taste test were in some cases predictable, but in a few cases they were completely unanticipated and shocking.  As far as the large-release sodas that we sampled, the existential differences in quality between cane sugar and HFCS were instantaneously apparent.  Cane sugar won the day easily.  If this had been a prize fight, HFCS would have been brutally K.O’d in the first round.  In the case of the colas, the differences were so pronounced that HFCS might have even died back in the locker room following the fight.  Mountain Dew Throwback was the clear winner over its HFCS counterpart.  As previously stated, the results of the colas were the most blatant and staggering.  Just as my experiences a month earlier while Back East, HFCS Pepsi and Coke were bitter, thicker in mouth feel, and heavy.  They were proven a ridiculously inferior product by this taste test, and I really feel that PepsiCo and the Coca-Cola Company should be ashamed of themselves for releasing such schlock onto the general public.  

Faygo’s sodas were a different story.  Faygo is legend for those of us who hail from Michigan.  Although once wholly owned and managed out of Detroit, it is now a subsidiary of National Beverage Corp, which owns a number of other regional “bargain” soda brands and energy drink brands.  Despite its popularity in Michigan, some smaller, independent retailers within the state refuse to stock it due to its lower price, and lower profit-generating capabilities.  Despite said low price, it’s still a great product, and hugely nostalgic for folks of my generation.   An occasional bottle of Faygo is admittedly one of my guilty pleasures, whereas I could normally care less about Coke or Pepsi products.  What can I say, for some reason, Faygo just turns my crank.

With regards to the results Faygo’s its taste-test yielded; I found all versions of Faygo to be very similar to one another.  Between the orange, grape, and redpop, I only selected cane sugar as the better-tasting soft drink in ONE instance.  That was in the case of Faygo grape.  My other two picks were the HFCS versions.   Here’s what I found so amazingly stupefying: Faygo Redpop has been my life-long, hands-down favorite.  For me there’s simply nothing better, and no other type of soda (regardless of the brand) speaks to me like Faygo redpop.  I was in utter disbelief when the results were revealed and I found that I had chosen the HFCS version of redpop as the more appealing or the two.  To Faygo’s credit, their good folks did a great job of creating a product that tastes incredibly similar to the old cane sugar version.  As stated above, cane sugar grape easily bested the HFCS version; but in all honesty, when it came to the orange and the redpop, Jason and I were confounded by the similarities between sample A and sample B.  They seemed virtually the same.

As a side note, The Wife noted that the cane sugar version of the grape left a bright PURPLE head in the cup when poured, whereas none of the other sodas (cane sugar or otherwise) presented a head that was so non-standard.

All in all, I found this to be an interesting experiment.  I guess it proves a few things.  First of all, real sugar generally DOES taste better than HFCS (at least in sodas, it does).  I suspect that this is just the tip of the iceberg.  I implore you all, in the name of decency, to pay no attention to the propaganda commercials with which Big Corn has been blitzing the television air waves.  They can call HFCS “corn sugar” if they like, but smart folks know it for what it is:  schlock.   If they can somehow get an intelligent person to believe that it isn’t cheap, cost-cutting schlock, then for their next trick, they should convince us all that the word “gullible” isn’t in the dictionary.  No worse off than cane sugar?  Cracker, please…..

Secondly, although it may be considered “welfare pop” by some snobby types, Faygo really makes a great product.  They are obviously committed to sustaining a good tasting product, and a consistent product.  Let me go out on a limb and say that this reflects that perhaps Faygo holds a greater regard and appreciation for its customer base than the large-release soft drink companies.  I guess when I think about Faygo’s “Boblo Island” commercial from when I was a kid, it’s clear that they’ve really made good on their erstwhile claim that “Faygo remembers”.  How often can you say that something is still “as good as it used to be”?   And as a final side note, Faygo grape, orange, and redpop all go great with vodka as well.   But that’s a different article for a different day.  Happy soda-drinking!

Chew on that!

T.S.G

                                                                                               

It Was Sort of Like "Supersize Me", Only I'm Not An Asshole.....

Recently, while channel surfing I landed on a program on Food Network that ran a story about a Manhattan restaurant, The Wall Street Burger Shoppe, that was offering the ultimate luxury hamburger.  The burger was 100% Japanese Kobe beef, topped with seared foie gras, shaved black truffles, and sprinkled with genuine gold leaf.  Yes, I did indeed say “gold leaf”.  One could buy this ultimate luxury lunch splurge for a whopping $175.  All things being equal, that’s not an unreasonable price for all of the items that WSBS has gathered together to make this burger (the gold leaf itself was worth about $25).  But who the hell can afford a burger like this?  What’s more, who’d want to eat it every day for lunch, or even more than a few times a year, for that matter? 

This got the wheels in my head turning.  My hometown of Bay City, Michigan is a modest community filled with Average Joes.  It’s mostly populated by non-pretentious, value-focused restaurant-goers.  Our sometimes-rustic natives are unschooled in the virtues of foie gras and black truffles, and they certainly lack the hoi-palloi gumption to crave them on a burger.  And if you were to call them on the carpet about this, they’ll probably smash you in the mouth and tell you they’re damn proud to be this way.  With this same local proletarian mindset, I decided to go out and sample a number of the most highly touted hamburgers in the city, and report back to you good folks with my results. 

After narrowing down my list of candidates vis-à-vis an informal poll that I conducted amongst my friends (facilitated by Facebook), I arrived on the following candidates in this comparative study of local hamburger offerings: Rudy’s Red Lion, Muscle Beach Drive In, The Hub Bar, The Rathkeller Bar, Bay City Bill’s Bar & Grill, The Char House, and The Bier Garten.  I purposely eliminated any establishments that were part of a chain or a franchise, so therefore places like the restaurant at The Doubletree Hotel and Harvey’s Grille and Bar were not considered.  Not to sound like some hipster douche, but part of the criteria was small-town authenticity.  My wife and I debated the authenticity issue while we discussed some of my findings for this article, and she held zealously firm in her belief that a “bar” would eventually yield the best burger.  As that (in her opinion), “bar burgers are the best”.  Well, Sweetcheeks; we’ll see about that.  If you’re right, you’re right.  And just so all of you know, I generally have no problem admitting that my wife is right.  In the end, everybody wins, and I don’t have to sleep in the garage.

Let me start by throwing out my obligatory disclaimer to deflect any shrill outcries from PETA kooks.  Yes, o’ Angry Ones.  I understand that red meat is unhealthy.  I understand that most ground beef comes from factory farms, and factory farms are bad for the environment.  I also understand that hundreds (maybe thousands) of heads of cattle had to be first “mistreated”, and then “tortured”, and then “murdered” so I could conduct this survey.  I also understand that in each burger that I ate, the ground meat might have consisted of the ground up “parts” of up to one hundred individual cows.  Guess what?  I….don’t…..care.  Not only do I hope that many, many cows had to die in my search for an awesome hamburger sandwich, part of me hopes that loan sharks snuck into the meat processing plant under the cover of darkness and threw one of their delinquent debtors into that self-same industrial meat grinder.  Because when it comes down to it, cows and deadbeats taste delicious.  What did you expect me to do?  Write a piece on soy burgers?  Frack that.  Actually, it would be pretty easy to do.  Here goes:  Morningstar Farms' Veggie Burger tastes slightly LESS shitty than ConAgra’s Garden Burger.  Done!  Why would anyone in their right mind want to constantly subject themselves to eating consumable cardboard, anyway?  Soy is FILLER.  That’s all it is.  It tastes like shit until you pile on truckloads of spices and seasonings and sauces and marinades; and although it’s touted as being “heart healthy”, it has its own set of unsavory side effects.  Beef may kill you before you hit 60 (like it did to both of my grandfathers), but unlike soy products it’s not medically proven to cause early-onset dementia, or exacerbate existing prostate conditions in men.  Nor does it inflate men’s estrogen levels, deflate the male sex drive, or give dudes man-boobs.  Yes, I said “MAN-BOOBS”.  Okay, maybe if I gained 100 pounds from eating red meat, I might get man-boobs, but I wouldn’t get man-boobs simply because I made red meat part of my diet.  Only excessive red meat consumption MINUS an exercise regimen can cause the onset of man-boobs in omnivores.  But for you dudes who make soy a regular part of your diet, I’m sorry to say this, but a training bra might be in your future.   No thanks, Alexandra Jamieson.   Anyhoo, sorry for that little scenic detour through Rantyville: bring on the beef, bitches.

As I mentioned above, I was looking for “authenticity” in my quest for local burger supremacy.  The standard for which I was using in judging this gathering of grilled steer flesh was a childhood memory.  When I was a little boy, my parents would take me to a local family restaurant and grease pit known as White’s Restaurant.  Eating there was nothing short of an amazing experience.  I generally always ordered the same thing: a cheeseburger and an order of onion rings.  For me, as a nine-year-old boy, there was no meal more rapturous than a burger and rings at White’s. This much idealized shard of my childhood was my culinary spirit guide and compass point when weighing all of the tastes, and textures, and flavors in this crowning of King of Burgers and Lord of The Onion Rings.   Now, on to my findings! 

Rudy’s Red Lion Diner

Perhaps one of the most popular (and hyped) area eateries is Rudy’s Red Lion.  Rudy’s customers are numerous and fiercely loyal.  I give the good folks at the Red Lion credit for cultivating something out of nothing.  It’s not an easy thing getting hundreds of folks excited about what you do, and Rudy’s Red Lion has succeeded.  I dropped by their establishment on a late Saturday morning, and the place was very much jammed with diners.  Since I had previously resolved to critique each of the various area restaurants’ “marquee” burger, I selected Rudy’s alpha dog, the Half-Pound Stuffed Burger.  It was a pretty standard burger, only it was stuffed with mushrooms, yellow peppers, and mozzarella cheese.  I also ordered their quite famous onion rings.

Overall, I found it interesting in concept, but the burger itself was rather average in taste.  Although I enjoyed it, I probably wouldn’t be too compelled to order it over a standard cheeseburger the next time I dropped by the Red Lion.   I used six criteria in judging each of the seven burgers in this sample.  Meat, cheese, bun, grilling, freshness of toppings, and overall taste.  Each category could yield up to 5 points.  Overall taste was weighted with double the points.  Therefore, a perfect score would equal 35.  Despite being relatively average in most areas, I did feel that Rudy’s bun was the most perfect and most pleasing part of the burger.  Despite the fact that the burger was stuffed with cheese, shrooms and peppers, the meat somehow turned out a bit on the dry side.  Total burger score: 24

The onion rings, however, were a different story.  Rudy’s rings are indeed the real deal.  Crisp, golden, made with large onion slices, they embodied all of the qualities that a classic diner onion ring should possess.  The batter was perhaps a bit too paste-like, which I personally didn’t find as visually appealing as the golden translucence of a traditional onion ring, but the taste was really on-point.  I evaluated them in terms of size, batter, onion quality, and overall taste.  Like the burgers, each category could yield up to 5 points.  Overall taste’s values were doubled, for a possible perfect score of 25.  Rudy’s rings received a total onion rings score of 21.  Quite respectable in my book

Rudy’s combined burger/rings score was 45 out of a possible 60 points.

The Rathskeller Bar

The Rathskeller, known affectionately as “The Rat”, serves burgers that are famous throughout the city.  Many of the folks who voiced input in my search for the area’s best burger gave heavy, heavy praise to The Rat.  “Their burgers are ridiculous”, eagerly mused one of my friends from high school.  So armed with my appetite and a fistful of dollars, I strode into The Rat, and ordered their burger tour de force known as The House Burger.  This burger was every bit as massive as Rudy’s stuffed burger.  Topped with cheese, lettuce, tomato, crisp bacon, and green olives, it is not only a site to behold, it’s quite fabulous to eat.  I’d definitely order it again.  The only complaints that I had was that my tomato could have been fresher, and cut more symmetrically.  Also, the mixture of the bacon and the green olives yielded a degree of saltiness that I thought was simply a bit too unwieldy and unbalanced.  After about halfway through, the saltiness became a bit much.  In short: hugely enjoyable, just a tad too salty.  Total burger score: 26. 

Had they had employed fresher toppings; the score would have been higher.  Perhaps I caught them on an off day.  Unfortunately, The Rat only serves chips with their food, and rings weren’t available.

Muscle Beach Drive-In

This establishment is situated in Bangor Township, near the Bay City State Park.  To be completely honest, I didn’t even know they existed until people suggested that I include them in this survey.   I ordered their flagship, the Stuffed Cheeseburger and a side of their hand-dipped rings.  The burger is stuffed with onions and mushrooms, and overall is pretty outstanding.  The only issue I had was that it was majorly messy to eat.  The contents of the burger gush all over the place when you eat it.  This is not one of those hold-the-steering-wheel-with-one-hand-and-eat-with-the-other-hand type of burgers.  You really need to be seated at a table to enjoy it.  Now THAT was a tasty burger!  Total burger score: 25.

Muscle Beach’s onion rings were simply amazing.  They were everything that I remember White’s rings to be.  Light, perfectly battered, huge, crisp; and amazingly executed.  In my estimation, they ran the table in all categories, and I gave them a perfect score of 25.

Muscle Beach’s burger/rings combo combined for a total score of 50 points.

Bay City Bill’s Bar & Grill

Nestled in the heart of Bay City’s South End (a.k.a. “Little Krakow”), Bay City Bill’s might be one of the city’s best kept secrets.  If you were to say to someone from across town, “Hey, meet me at Bay City Bill’s for a couple of shells”, their response might be a vacuous blank stare.  Needless to say, any self-respecting Southender knows of this little hole-in-the-wall, and that they grill a burger that will punch you in the taste buds faster the lightning-quick hands of Murray Sutherland.  I ordered their Cheeseburger Deluxe and a side of rings.  I initially didn’t know if they sold onion rings, but upon inquiring while I placed my carry out order, the bar tender enthusiastically exclaimed, “Oh yes!  They’re homemade”.   

Based on her enthusiasm, and the positive buzz that I had heard about Bill’s burgers, the short car ride from my office to Bill’s to pick up my order was a very anticipatory one.

Let me put this plainly.  Bay City Bill’s did not disappoint.  Bill’s Cheeseburger Deluxe is a perfectly executed, perfectly balanced sandwich.  Every part of it was fresh and tasty and amazing.  Although I didn’t award it a perfect score, it was certainly a good enough burger to garner a respectable 30 points.

Bill’s homemade onion rings were also similarly good, although not nearly as good as Muscle Beach’s “miracle rings”, they were every bit the equal to Rudy’s.  Total rings score: 21.

Total burger/rings score: a front-running tally of 51.

The Char House

Along with White’s, the Char House had been a place during my childhood, that my parents took my sisters and I frequently.  Prices were reasonable; they had good service and food quality.  They also had a menu that was appealing to young children.  It had been literally 18 years since I last set foot in the Char House, and as I walked though the front door, I saw before me a place that had been seemingly frozen in time.  The layout was the same.  The pictures, and decorations, and wall hangings, and nautical kitsch were just as I had remembered it.  Nothing had changed a bit.   Surprisingly, the old place had been very well kept up, and nothing appeared to be at all run down.  As I sat in the lobby and waited for my carry-out order I silently hopped that their cheeseburger and onion rings circa 2010 were as tasty and lovingly made as they were way back in the late 1970’s. 

Arriving home, I was pleased to find that their legendary Char Burger was indeed it’s reliable old self.  Large in size (probably a half pound), hand formed my the grill cook (you could tell because it lacked the perfect symmetry of pre-made burger patties).  Cheese quality was a tad boring, and the grilling left the meat a little dry, but overall it was a very nicely prepared burger.  The bun was grill-toasted nicely, and its toppings were really, really fresh.  It was a good effort at a standard burger.  Although it may have invoked much nostalgia, I found it to be just standard-good.  Not bad, and teetering somewhere in that void between “good” and “pretty good”.   I gave it a total 24 points, which puts it in the same class as the burgers from Rudy’s Red Lion.

The onion rings were a different story.  They were not homemade as they had been during my childhood, and were simply frozen food-service rings.  I guess in some ways one can never truly go home again.  They received the lowest possible score for onion rings: An abysmal 5.

Total burger/rings score for The Char House:  29

The Hub

This place is a long-standing Bay City watering hole, and it’s a place where my friends and I have consumed many, many cold brews.  My father-in-law’s cousin owns The Hub, and she and her husband are sweet, sweet folks.  Despite their best efforts, service at The Hub can sometimes be hit-and-miss.  Many of us simply stopped going there after our favorite bar-maid (Ruby) moved up north to the sticks to be with her boyfriend.  Thus, leaving us at the mercy of her replacement, who (for confidentiality purposes) shall from this point forward go by the nom de guerre of “The Troll”.  I cannot take credit for tagging her with this moniker.  Credit for that stroke of genius goes to my best bud “The Major” (obviously his identity it being concealed for his own protection).  The Troll’s charm lies in the fact that she has turned crummy service into a veritable art form.  She could easily be called the Michael Jordan of shitty waitresses.  Gruff and quick to annoy, she might bring everyone else’s drinks, but conveniently forget yours.  And this is simply because she didn’t like the way you placed your order.  Or when bringing your drinks to you, she may choose to slam the tray of drinks down on your table, and cause all of the bottled beers to foam over from the force of the concussion.  I don’t know how she manages to pull off this incredible feat of physics, but it’s a great trick.  A great trick, so long as only drinking four-fifths of your beer isn’t an issue.   I could recount many more riffs from her collection of greatest hits, but burgers are the focus, not her antipathy toward bar patrons. 

On the whole, The Hub’s food is relatively good and quite cheap.  I probably wouldn’t have added The Hub to this list of burger joints, but quite a few people suggested it, so I figured it couldn’t hurt.  Their burgers are relatively simple.  Portion size matches the price.  Overall, it was a very standard, average, no-frills burger.  It was significantly out-classed by all of the other burgers in this survey.  It wasn’t bad, per se.  It was simply nothing to write home about.  I gave it a total score of 19.

The Hubs onion rings were frozen (just like The Char House’s), so they received an automatic score of 5

Total burger/rings score:  24

Bier Garten

I had originally not planned on reviewing the burgers at Bier Garten, but the evening prior to completing the first draft of this review, two of my hockey team mates vehemently insisted that Bier Garten has the best burgers in town.  And really, how can one ignore that much zeal and enthusiasm?

Selecting their Bier Garten Burger, the burger on the menu that was named after establishment, I figured that I’d made a safe choice.  What was served up was a less-than-impressive burger, and unquestionably the LEAST tasty burger of the seven hamburgers that I sampled.  The meat was average, and rather dry.  The bun was untoasted, and rather boring.  The toppings (tomato, lettuce, and green olives) were perhaps the one and only strong point with this burger, but overall, I was not terribly impressed.  It’s total score was a measly 18.

Sadly, despite the “anonymous” posting on Trip Advisor that Bier Garten had amazing onion rings, just like The Char House and The Hub, Bier Garten’s rings were frozen.  So, they get the big 5.

Total burger/rings score: 23.

In Bier Garten’s defense, they do feature a number of Michigan microbrews by Bell’s and Dragonmead on draught.  But as far as burgers are concerned, Bier Garten failed to impress.

Recap and Summary

As per my evaluation, the rankings of the various “flagship” burgers that I sampled would fall as such:

1)      Cheeseburger Deluxe (Bay City Bill’s)

2)      House Burger (The Rathskeller)

3)      Stuffed Cheeseburger (Muscle Beach Drive-In)

4)      Char Burger (The Char House)/Half Pound Stuffed Cheeseburger (Rudy’s Red Lion) –TIE

5)      Bacon Cheeseburger (The Hub)

6)      The Bier Garten Burger (The Bier Garten)

I would evaluate the various accompanying onion rings as follows:

1)      Muscle Beach Drive-In

2)      Rudy’s Red Lion/Bay City Bill’s - TIE

3)      Bier Garten/The Hub/The Char House -THREE-WAY TIE

And here are the rankings for the burger/onion rings combination:

1)      Bay City Bill’s

2)      Muscle Beach Drive-In

3)      Rudy’s Red Lion

4)      The Char House

5)      The Hub

6)      Bier Garten

So in summation, some of the burgers that I sampled delivered the goods and did not disappoint.  Others left me rather disappointed and confused.  I found much nostalgia in The Char House’s burger, and in Muscle Beach’s previously-undiscovered onion rings.   In the end, my lovely wife’s reasoning won the day.  The top two burgers that I sampled were indeed from area bars.  Strangely, the bottom two were also from bars.  I’ll leave it to her to figure out this anomaly.  Perhaps the most amazing hidden gem that I uncovered was none other than Muscle Beach Drive-In.  I think overall they might be the most impressive in the totality their offerings.   Even though it has nearly been a week since I’ve eaten there, their remarkably perfect hand-dipped onion rings continue to haunt me, and I find it increasingly difficult to resist their gravitational pull with every passing day. 

Among my top three burger picks, you’ll find that they are all very much in the same class of excellence.  Between Bay City Bill’s, Rathskeller, and Muscle Beach Drive In, one really can’t go wrong with any of them.   And since all of these establishments are spread out around the city, one is never too far away from some basic, simple, unforced American culinary bliss.   Their burgers may not be topped with luxury items like black truffles or gold leaf, but in my over-fed estimation, they’re easily as good as gold.

Chew on that!

T.S.G.

Big Apple and Big Ivy

On a recent trip to Connecticut for my good friend Brian’s wedding, I took a few side trips. As expected, most of my vacation side trips are generally food related; and in my mind, the locales to which I paid a visit during these side trips are virtually essential stop offs for any serious food tourist.


Side Trip #1
I’m sure that if you’re reading this blog, it’s because you love food and ergo, you know of Anthony Bourdain. Over the past four or five years, few people in the media have made more of an impact on the phenomenon of food tourism than Tony. He, of course, is a chef and author turned travel host of Travel Channels’ runaway hit “No Reservations”. In addition, his writings and television programs have had a huge impact on me personally, in shaping the way I look at food, and in my transformation into a food tourist and a culinary adventurer.

Those of you who are familiar with Tony’s work and Tony’s life probably know where I’m going with this. I paid a visit to his last know place of employment before ditching the life of a chef for the life of a television personality. I took in a meal at Manhattan’s best known brasserie, “Les Halles”.

Just to clear up a few ambiguities, Bourdain does not own Les Halles, nor has he ever owned Les Halles. He was however the chef there for a number of years, and the cover of his breakout book on life in the culinary industry, Kitchen Confidential, bears a photo of him posed in front of the restaurant’s Park Avenue location. But for all the fanfare, Tony was never more than an employee. Naturally, this hasn’t stopped Les Halles from capitalizing on their most famous former employee’s buzz and momentum. A quick trip to their website will demonstrate just what I mean. But I don’t blame them. If the potential for good publicity and good press is out there, they’re fools for not seizing upon it.

I think the first thing a visitor notices as one walks into the place, is that the restaurant is much, MUCH smaller than it appears on television. The whole phenomenon of the camera causing people and objects to appear larger than in real life is no myth. Despite it’s relatively modest size, it has a very comfortable atmosphere, and the management has painstakingly made every effort to make the décor resemble an authentic Paris Brasserie. Right up to the fact that they couldn’t give a damn how their guests are dressed. What’s that? You just got off the train in jeans, sneakers, and a soccer jersey (like me)? No problem. Let us show you to your table!

The menu at Les Halles focuses on traditional French cuisine and nothing else. So don’t show up expecting an experimental molecular gastronomy tasting menu, or a pan-Asian fusion meal. . What you should expect (and you will receive) is some very, very authentic French cuisine. The restaurant’s signature dishes are the typically French steak-frites type dishes (steak and fries, for those of you not in the know). The difference is that they use American beef and not European beef, so the quality of the meat is far, far superior to anything that you might find on the Eastern side of the Atlantic .

I ordered the seared foie gras as a starter, and then I went out on a limb and chose the cassoulet with a side of their famous frites. Foie gras, for those of you who don’t know much about it, literally means “Fat Liver” in French. It is a sectioning of the liver of a goose or a duck that has been force-fed grain prior to slaughter. The forced-feeding causes the liver to swell and take on different taste and texture characteristics . French cuisine is famous for it, and it is an amazing delicacy. My nine-year-old son loves seared foie gras. Now before you start going off on how the process of force-feeding birds is inhumane or barbaric, let me assure you that there have been objective recent scientific studies that prove that the geese and ducks raised for foie gras suffer little discomfort, and enthusiastically participate in the forced feeding. I’m truly serious about this. These birds do not have a gag reflex, so when the feeding funnel is placed into their gullet, they don’t choke or feel much discomfort. Plus the process is similar to a natural process of gorging that wild ducks and geese instinctively perform prior to the migratory seasons. I have seen television shows regarding foie gras where flocks of birds will crowd around their feeder during feeding time, eagerly awaiting their turn with the funnel. And indeed there are much more inhumane processes that animals suffer in commercial food production than what foie gras birds endure.

So if you think this is an evil, vile concept, vote with your wallet and simply don’t eat it. That’s your right as a consumer. But if you think I’m a bad person for eating foie gras, and a cretin and liar for defending it, all I can say is this: Please. please, please. Do yourself a favor and do some objective research on the matter. Those of us who eat it aren‘t going to stop eating it simply because you‘re complaining about us eating it. The fact that we eat foie gras bothers you far greater than your complaining bothers us. If anything, all your collective media outcries have actually created greater interest in foie gras among foodies, and probably caused more people in this country to try it and more people to consume it regularly than ever before. Talk about hoisting one’s self with one’s own petard. Go fire bomb a Starbucks if you really want to be a force for good in the world. Because what’s worse: force-feeding birds prior to their already imminent slaughter; or peddling shitty, over-priced coffee made from beans from war-torn countries that use child-soldiers?   Adding insult to injury, Starbucks also forces the consumer to speak a fake, pretentious, made-up language with their ass-clown, hipster staff when one places one's order.  I bet all those poor schmucks who majored in Esperanto in college 30 years ago, and subsequently got hosed, wish that they'd gotten together and opened a coffee house chain.  But I digress......

Anyhoo, the foie gras that I was served at Les Halles was perfectly seared. The quality of the cut of liver that they brought out was “good” to “above-average”, but not the best that I had ever had. But it was certainly fulfilling. A note to the consumer: foie gras is quite expensive. My 2 or 3 ounce portion cost $18.95, and this is very much a standard price. Considering that this was an establishment in Manhattan , I thought the price was very, very reasonable.

My main course was a nice-sized plate of cassoulet and a side of frites. Yes, I understand that I previously stated that Les Halles was best known for their beef. But I’m a sucker for cassoulet, so my curiosity got the better of me. For those readers who are unfamiliar with cassoulet, it is a slow cooked bean casserole from Southern France . It generally combines duck, sausage, lamb, and pork with said beans. If done the traditional way, it can take days to ready the ingredients prior it’s eventual four hour cook time. My wife and I will sometimes make it in Fall or Winter on a Sunday afternoon. It’s one of my absolute favorites things to eat, and it is absolutely magical. So obviously, I couldn’t break away from it’s gravitational pull when I saw it on the menu. Sadly, Les Halles’ cassoulet was merely adequate. But in their defense, I could tell that the methods that they used were of the quick-preparation variation, so the beans were not infused with all of the complexities from the various other ingredients. Also, some of the meat ingredients (specifically the duck) were rather average in quality. It was very filling, just somewhat unfulfilling with regards to my expectations. The next time I visit Les Halles, I’ll most certainly order the beef.

The frites, however, were pretty damn amazing. I know Tony always prided himself on the fact that Les Halles’ frites were top notch, so I felt that it was essential that I ordered them. As strange as it sounds to the non-foodie, the frites were probably the highlight of the meal. And that’s not to take away from the rest of the meal; the fries were simply THAT good. They were done the traditional way: fresh cut potatoes blanched, then fried twice. They were crisp (almost crunchy) on the outside, and nice and soft in the middle. They were not overly salted, which was a welcomed change to all the over-salted, MSG ladened fries that are all too common today. I had a significant portion of my fries remaining after I finished my cassoulet, and despite the fact that I was already quite full, I forced myself to eat every last one. Quite the food orgy on my part. It made for a very bloated train ride back to Connecticut, and the desire to simply go to my hotel room and hibernate for a while.

Overall, I really enjoyed Les Halles as a dining experience. It offers an interesting and casual atmosphere, decent service, prices that aren’t out of line, and very satisfying cuisine. I look forward to dropping by again during my next visit to Manhattan .
STRONGLY RECOMENDED
　

Side Trip #2
With far, far too many dinning choices in New York Metropolitan area to chose from, I decided to change things up and shift from haute cuisine to more mundane cuisine.

Aside from being the home of Yale University; New Haven, Connecticut is also known as the birthplace of the hamburger. Louis’ Lunch (pronounced “Loo-ees”), situated on Crown Street, lays claim to the invention of said hamburger. And this is no hyperbole-filled claim, mind you. Louis’ Lunch has been in business since 1895, as they proudly display on the front of their building; and a number of years ago, they went as far as successfully registering their claim with the Library of Congress as the creators, inventors, and originators of the “hamburger sandwich”. How’s that for dispelling myth?

If you are looking to visit Louis’ Lunch, bear in mind that they maintain some rather odd hours (closed Sunday and Monday; closing before 4pm Tuesday through Thursday; Open until 2am Friday and Saturday). My guess is, they have structured their hours of operation around college life, and the late-night drinking crowd.

I arrived on a Friday, about 5 minutes after the stroke of noon, and there was already a healthy line-up of patrons spilling out of the tiny restaurant, onto the sidewalk that runs along Crown Street . After I had made it inside and placed my order, one of the patrons explained that this was a typical sight. He also said that to-go orders could be called in beforehand. The wait is longer than one might expect. The line moves somewhat slowly, and once you place your order, you take a seat and wait for you name to be called off. After placing my order, it probably took a good 25 or 30 minutes for my food to arrive. But that’s standard. There were many first timers dinning at Louis’ the day I visited, but no one seemed deterred or miffed by the long wait. One of the regulars that sat off to the side, waiting for his order cheerfully chirped in his working class New Haven accent, “If I was in a hurry and didn’t care I’d go to Mc Donald’s. But I do care, so I don’t mind the wait.”. I got the impression that the staff at Louis’ (and their regular customers, for that matter), are extremely proud of the little chunk of food anachronism that they’re a part of. And I think that’s a big part of Louis’ charm and allure. Also, be sure to bring cash, as that they do not accept credit or debit cards. As you’ll see below, Louis’ lunch takes an old school approach to their burgers.

Louis’ menu is very basic. They offer one sandwich, and one sandwich only on their menu. That of course is the “hamburger sandwich”. As far as how you order your burger, it can be prepared a few different ways. Plain (nothing on it), with cheese, with onion, or with tomato, or a random combination of any of these. Or you can simply order “cheese works” and get everything previously listed on your burger. I ordered two burgers. One “plain works, the other “cheese works”. Fries are nowhere to be found at Louis’, but one can instead purchase potato chips or potato salad. They also have a nice selection of Snapple and locally produced Foxon Park brand sodas, which are made with real cane sugar, not high fructose corn syrup. Louis’ uses a great deal of minimalism in their approach to burgers. The meat is very lean, and it’s cooked in small antique gas flame-broilers that have been in use since the establishment began making the hamburger sandwich around 1900. Also, Louis’ doesn’t employ a great of seasoning in the preparation of their burgers, so those of you are accustomed to an over-salted, MSG-smattered fast food burger, you might be somewhat disappointed. Condiments are non-existent. The only thing that gets put on your burger is what your order on it (i.e. cheese, tomato, or onion). Not a single bottle of ketchup or mustard is to be found anywhere on the premises; and that’s Louis’ philosophy and approach to their product. They want you to taste the beef and not the condiments or toppings. One final note about their burgers. They do not use actual hamburger buns. Instead, they lightly toast thinly sliced white bakery bread in place of a bun.

What's old is new again.....Okay, I'm lazy. That's NOT new.

This next blog is brought to you by an uninspired Sunday morning, and a looming trip to the grocery store to shop for food for my starving children.  No time to write today folks.  Sorry.  So I decided to recycle a piece I posted a few years ago on the present-day-internet-ghost-town known as Myspace.  It's a review I did of Disney's "Ratatoullie" when it first came out.  I'll be in NYC next week for a wedding, so I promise to make it up to you, by writting a nice review of Anthony Bourdain's old haunt, Les Halles.  Until then, chew on this!

Yesterday afternoon I took the little monsters to see the new Disney/Pixar film “Ratatouille” (pronounced “rat-a-too-ee”).  There had already been quite a bit of favorable buzz about this film, but I was most excited over the fact that it was about my most favorite substance to abuse: food.  The film’s protagonist, a rat named “Remy” (voiced by Patton Oswalt), rejects the trappings of rat-dom and instead aspires to be a chef.  All of this is to the dismay of both his fellow rats and humans alike.  In pure cartoon anti-realism he attains this dream with the help of a human counter-part, and lives happily ever after.  Although Pixar’s animation was absolutely breathtaking in this film, the greatest accolades go to writer/director Brad Bird (“The Incredibles”, “Iron Giant”, etc…).  And this film undoubtedly delivers that self-same punch that Bird was able to bring to bear when he made “The Incredibles” and “Iron Giant”.    The climax/conclusion of this film is beyond fulfilling, and showcases the villain getting his soul back in a scene more touching than when the Grinch’s heart grows ten sizes, and he thusly saves Christmas. 

Maybe I’m biased and overly-gushy about this film because I’m food-addicted.  But if heroin addicts have “Trainspotting”; food addicts like me certainly have “Ratatouille”. There are a few spots where the film’s pace is a little show for children, and I think anyone under the age of four might be periodically bored.  Surprisingly, alcohol use (i.e. wine consuption) is a sometimes backdrop in few of the scenes, which I found a bit odd for a film targeted to children, but after all, the theme of the movie is French cuisine.  I don’t think a European audience would flinch at this fact.  Some folks who are against alcohol use on moral grounds might be put off by this tiny aspect of the film.  As many of you know, wine is a ubiquitous part of the weekend meals that The Wife and I concoct, so it was kind of funny when my son leaned over during one of the scenes and whispered, “Dad, what kind of wine is that?”.  I only hope that we’ve set the stage for him to eventually be a connoisseur and not a drunk.  Since I’m on the topic of wine, there are a few cameos in the film, made by some of Bordeaux’s heaviest hitters in winemaking (i.e. Chateau Le Tour and Cheval Blanc).  Cheval Blanc last made an appearance on-film in “Sideways” as Miles’ trophy wine.  Anyhoo, I like how Brad Bird takes his time between films, and doesn’t rush projects to theaters too soon.  Because what he serves up in “Ratatouille” is very much representative of the lightning-in-a-bottle that he’s found with past works.  Cheers to him!  Cheers to anyone who goes to see this soon-to-be-classic!

Chew on that!
T.S.G.

When is a cake not just a cake?

During my dark period, before I met my wife, I flirted with vegetarianism.  People that know me today are stupefied to hear this.  “You!?!?!  A vegetarian?!?!?”, they exclaim.  In truth, I fell into it as sort of a knee-jerk reaction following the results of blood work from an annual physical when I was twenty-seven.  At the time my cholesterol was a staggering 309.  I was like, “What the…..I’ll be dead by the time I’m forty!”. 

So out of desperation, I devised a solution.  I came up with the idea of eating a mostly low fat, mostly vegetarian diet.  And for the next three years (until I met my wife, who as you know became my own personal food-messiah), I was dialed in on miserly watching every gram of fat that went into my body.  I’d eat fish or chicken every so often, but most of what I put into my body consisted of plant matter and other flora.  Those who know me, know that when I get “into” something, I don’t do it half-assed.  Even a brief trend can become an all-consuming venture.  I was so obsessed with eliminating that fiendish, life-ending fat from my diet, that someone looking from the outside in might conclude that I was in the throws of some type of wacked-out eating disorder.  It was difficult.  It was miserable.  It was a completely banal way to live.  It’s no wonder that certain vegan-types are so easily angered and confrontational.  They (like me back then) miss out on all of the things that make life worth living, and their souls suffer for it.  What specifically brought me back from the brink?  Be patient, the answer is right around the corner.

As I said a few posts back, culinary salvation was in my future, and this three-year “monastic period” of my life came to a screeching halt upon hearing those wondrous words on my thirtieth birthday, “I made you a chocolate cake from scratch using my mom’s special recipe.  You gotta try this”.  As I look back, I’m certain that the Big Three-Oh was my tipping point.   Sure, The Wife (then, The Girlfriend) had graciously and lovingly stuck to my dietary conventions and made me grilled chicken and a dry baked potato as my birthday meal, as per my request.  But the cake…..god dammit, I didn’t ask for this!  She had to tempt me with a fucking cake? 

As she brought it out and placed it on the table, I desperately stared at it for a brief second.  I took in the slight imperfections in it’s symmetry that are commonplace when you make a cake from scratch.  But that comes with the territory.  You want your cake to look perfect, open a box of Duncan Fucking Hines, Jack.  It looked soooooo tempting.  Why was she doing this to me?  This was like offering a now-clean Nikki Sixx a huge eight-ball.  I found myself in an amazing quandary.  Did I stick to my kooky regimen and say, “Nah, I can’t.” and risk hurting my girlfriend’s feelings?  Did I want my birthday dinner to be the last time I every set foot in her apartment?  Would she give me the gate and kick me to the curb because I was a stubborn, insensitive, obsessive-compulsive psycho mess?  Was there a restraining order in my future?  I looked at that amazing little chocolate-iced creation in front of me, and quipped, “Yeah, I guess I could try a SMALL piece.”.   

I hadn’t even swallowed the first bite, and I was abundantly aware that it was all over for me and this futile pseudo-vegetarian adventure that I had attempted.  I knew that at that moment I had been brought back to the world of the living.  She hadn’t fed me the end result of just ANY chocolate cake recipe.  This was perhaps THE single greatest chocolate cake recipe of all time.  Right away, I noticed the moistness and the amazing mouth-feel of it all.  I was then hit with an incredibly intense chocolate taste.   Sure, there have indeed been other food experiences in my life that have had a similar immediate impact in shaping my culinary condition.  My first beer and wurst while studying abroad in Vienna; my first time trying sushi; my first sampling of hummus at Amer’s in Ann Arbor; the Kobe strip loin I had in Stratford, Ontario; the veal sweetbreads I tried in Burgundy.  All are awesome experiences and memories.   But none of them compare, or were as an impactful watershed moment as the birthday cake that I ate on my thirtieth birthday.  That evening, as I sat at my then-girlfriend’s kitchen table, in her tiny third-floor apartment on a sweltering August night, I could feel the pendulum swinging back toward me. Said pendulum was once again heading in the “right” direction, and I knew emphatically that the last three-odd years of my life had been a mistake.  A well-intentioned mistake, but a mistake nonetheless.   

Every year since, for the past twelve years, I request the exact same cake on my birthday.  Some years my wife makes it.  Some years my mother-in-law makes it.  But if I had to skip having this cake, I’d probably prefer to skip having a birthday.  Who says getting older has to be all bad?  And nothing helps cushion the blow of being on the wrong side of forty like chocolate cake.  Lesson learned.

Chew on that!
T.S.G.

Tough day at the office? Try this: mustard crusted rack of lamb!

Disclaimer:  This is a favorite recipe that The Wife and I prepare quite often.  It was originally one that The Papa Bear of all gluttons, Emeril Lagasse had demonstrated on one of his Food Network Cooking shows.  If his short lived bomb-sitcom had one iota of the magic of this recipe, it would have made MASH or Seinfeld look like Cop Rock.  Trust me on this one, this recipe is a home run!

Cook time: About an hour.

Ingredients

• 1 rack of lamb, trimmed (about 1 1/2 pounds)
• 3/4 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
• 1 tablespoons vegetable oil
• 2 tablespoons Dijon mustard
• 2 teaspoons minced garlic
• 1/4 cup seasoned bread crumbs
• 2 tablespoons grated Parmigiano Reggiano cheese (It’s KEY that you use the REAL stuff – FROM ITALY.  Trust me on this.)

Note:  This recipe ALSO works well with the loin chops, as well as the rack; but the rack is the preferred cut of lamb to use.  Overall, it’s pretty simple to execute.  Any fool can pull it off.

If you have a dog, and he/she’s like ours, once the lamb comes out of the packaging, your dog will go nuts.  When our dog smells all that gamey, meaty goodness she starts gleefully howling like she’s being tortured.  It’s not that the smell is THAT strong to the human nose, but to the canine nose it inspires a reaction somewhat akin to a sorority girl smelling a generous amount of Drakar Nior on a trust fund, pre-med frat boy.  So…..

Season the rack of lamb well on all sides with salt and pepper. Heat a medium skillet over high heat and, when hot, add the oil. When the oil is almost smoking, add the rack of lamb and brown well on all sides for about 4 - 6 minutes. Transfer the lamb to a plate and set aside to cool slightly before proceeding.  Depending on how you want to pull this off, you can section off the lamb into little chops.  We prefer to section them each into a chop containing three rib sections.  Or you can simply leave them intact.  It’s you’re choice.

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees F.

Combine the minced garlic and the mustard together in a small bowl, and then generously spread them onto the lamb.  The back of a spoon can work, but my wife prefers to simply use her hands.

In a small mixing bowl combine the breadcrumbs and grated cheese and mix/toss together thoroughly. Using your hands or a spoon, spread the breadcrumb mixture evenly all over the lamb, pressing so that the crumbs adhere to the meat.

Place the rack of lamb on a baking sheet and bake for 12 to 15 minutes for medium-rare. Allow lamb to sit for 5 to 10 minutes before carving or serving.

As for side dishes, we like to serve roasted baby or fingerling potatoes with a dusting of rosemary and olive oil; along with steamed FRESH green beans with this dish.  The lamb itself is pretty rich and a similarly rich side dish would simply be too over the top.

As for a wine pairing, we really like Montes Alpha Cabernet Sauvignon.  It’s Chilean, and it can be found for under $20.  If you want to spend more money, one of the BETTER California Cabernets will work.  A red Bordeaux that’s mostly Cabernet based will also work.  But why bother with those expensive choices when Montes Alpha is already a complete slam dunk with this dish. 

Chew on that!
T.S.G.