Friday Fun and Monday Sun
This has been a great week for the FLB. At some point when I wasn’t paying attention, the comment count finally crossed the 10,000 mark! Sure, I’ve written a lot about food over the past few years, but this milestone proves that you all have plenty to say as well. I’m thrilled with the level of participation, even though I secretly would love to get a few more of the lurkers involved.
Maybe I can inspire them with the news of some really amazing goings on in the Capital Region. Two of them are today, but the third happens Monday evening. And not only is Monday’s thing meaningful and delicious, but all the cool kids are going. I’m totally bummed to be missing it.
Surely there is other stuff happening with food this weekend too, but it’s hard to stay on top of everything from New Jersey. Let’s start with the one that gets high praise from someone who isn’t easy to please.
Mac & Cheese Madness
Junk in a Box was the post that publicly proclaimed my love for Kraft Mac & Cheese. What can I tell you, it was a childhood favorite. Eating it conjures up lovely memories of a more innocent time with my dad, and for that I make no appologies.
But something changed. I don’t know if it was Kraft, or if it was me. Maybe it was a little of both.
To make a long story short, the classic Kraft Mac & Cheese has yellow dye number five in it, and that’s bad news. They took it out of their kids line of novelty shaped pasta, and while the reformulated sauce is fine, the rectangular extruded pasta is not. So while the giant corporation’s attempt at improvement is appreciated, my family is sticking to the Trader Joe’s product… lumps and all.
You see, that’s the biggest drawback. The TJs cheese sauce packet doesn’t dissolve as well in milk and butter as its mass market cousin. This results in an unfortunately lumpy final product. However, I’ve discovered a labor intensive way to solve the problem.
The Crust Eaters
What’s the best part of a pizza slice? It’s a telling question.
It’s hard to argue against the cheese. Cheese is delicious; all hot, dripping and salty. Well, there is nothing appealing about a flabby layer of white, lifeless goo. However, when it’s properly cooked and deftly applied, with the sauce underneath giving it a rosy glow and the heat of the oven burnishing its top, the cheese is magnificent indeed.
But what is a slice without the sauce? Cheese is cheese. But the sauce is where a shop can really define the flavor of its slice. Tomatoes can be cooked slowly to concentrate their sweetness, which can play well against the saltiness of cheese. A brightly acidic sauce can cut through the fat of cheese. Sauce can also be a vehicle for proprietary blends of dried herbs and spices which can enchant the eater and turn him into a lifelong devotee.
I know people who will claim it’s the toppings, and I understand where they are coming from. But we don’t have time for that kind of tomfoolery today.
You may have already guessed that I’m saving the best for last. Granted, I will concede that for this question, it really is a matter of personal taste. And I promise that I won’t judge you too harshly if your preferences lay elsewhere. But I’m hoping to convince at least a few of you that the best part of a truly great slice is its crust.
Two Stewart’s, One Fountain & the Void
One freezing inch at a time. That’s how I like to get into a cold pool or work my way into the ocean from an East Hampton beach. There are some people who prefer to just dive right in, but that’s never been my style.
“It’s easier,” they insist.
And when the water rises to those more sensitive spots on my body, I’m inclined to believe them. But this is how I’ve dealt with potentially traumatic transitions since I was a kid.
So we’re coming back to Albany for good in a few weeks, but just this past weekend, I made the drive with the family for another quick 24 hour visit. There were no grand food adventures, just a few shivers as I confronted some of the culinary staples of the region.
How to Cook Indian
The things I learned after a year at the Institute for Advanced Study are not typical for an extended stay on these storied grounds. Sure, I took in a little bit about particle physics and string theory. I was exposed to a few math conversations that I couldn’t even begin to understand. But I learned some stuff about food that will stay with me for the rest of my life.
The baba ghanoush came first, and as I became more proficient in this roasted eggplant spread, I built up the confidence to try hummus.
Hummus, as I came to learn, is deceptively complicated. It looks super simple, but with only a few ingredients, each element has to not only be delicious but also balanced in perfect harmony with the others. This is especially tricky because all lemons are different, not all tahini is created equal, and chickpeas can be fickle. And for my Israeli friends, a silky smooth texture is critical. Yes, you can make this without removing the skin from the beans, but it’s so much better when you put in the extra effort.
Most recently however, I’ve had the veil lifted from my eyes about Indian cooking. While chana masala is a staple of my family’s diet, I have always used a boxed spice blend. To be fair, I never confused this with actually cooking. But the class I took on dosa making revealed just how easy making a cilantro chutney could be, and how few ingredients one required to make spiced potatoes.
Still, it was one act of kindness that really pushed me over the edge.
Capital Improvements
The Internet ate my blog post. Sometimes I spend too much time reading stuff online when I’m supposed to be writing. It’s hard to say if that time is actual research or procrastination. Even if I’m writing a Yelp review, I can argue that I’m just getting my writing juices flowing.
Last night however, I was sucked into writing a lengthy comment on someone else’s blog. Usually, if I’m going to do that, I just turn the comment into a post here and call it a day. I’m not typically good at short form responses to issues that I care about, and which might benefit from a more nuanced response.
Still, I thought I could leave Jeff (from the Masticating Monkey) a quick response on his excellent post about the state of food criticism in the Capital Region. He pitches the notion that if the critics in this town were just tougher, the restaurants would get better. It’s a theme that sounds oddly familiar, and I’m glad to have him on board.
But the longer I’ve lived in the Capital Region, and the more that I’ve seen, the less convinced I am that revealing the Emperor has no clothes will solve our problems.
Here’s what I posted on Jeff’s blog.
More or Less Regulated
Remember how I mentioned getting an electric guitar recently? Well, I may have overdone it a bit yesterday. In the immortal words of The Beatles, “I’ve got blisters on my fingers!”
The fab five, however, were not trying to write a food blog. Let me tell you, it’s not pleasant trying to type with an angry blister. So today I’m going to valiantly attempt to keep this short and sweet. I might be tempted to take a day off, but there is one pressing issue that I feel needs to be addressed.
Today I need to take some time and try to set the record straight with a couple of commenters. This may be challenging to do under the current circumstances, especially if I hope to avoid reverting to stereotypes and forced dialectics. It’s especially hard since the issue is inextricably linked to politics, although really, that’s a problem in and of itself.
Surviving Chuck E. Cheese
Parental food hysteria is getting whipped into a frenzy thanks to the good folks at the Center for Science in the Public Interest. You know them: they’re the good people famous for measuring everything in units of Big Macs.
So a giant tub of movie popcorn with butter is something like twenty Big Macs and an average size takeout order from a Chinese restaurant is like ten Big Macs. For me, these reports always make it seem like a Big Mac must not be that bad for you. It’s a shame that I find the sandwiches entirely unappealing.
Anyway, now CSPI has its sights trained right between the ears of Chuck E. Cheese. And parents are outraged–outraged, I say–to learn that the food at this kid-centric emporium of fun is not only an insult to pizza, but also loaded with fat, sodium, calories and sugar. One mom is even calling for legislation and regulation. Dios mío.
Seriously, how many times do I get to be the voice of reason? Let’s try this out and see how it goes.
A Pork Story: Philly, Jersey & Italy
Weekends are made for food adventures. These kinds of escapades can take all kinds of forms. They can involve travel, fancy restaurants, lengthy home cooking projects, explorations of ethnic foods, and more.
I think I may have checked every single box on that list this weekend, and to top it off I finally bought an electric guitar. As far as midlife crises go, I think Mrs. Fussy is getting off easy. And don’t worry, I’m not actually having any kind of crisis. I’ve been in the market for a used electric for a long time. My plan is to play it unplugged late at night when everyone is sleeping. Electric guitars can be super quiet, and a lot more satisfying than obsessing at all of the people who are wrong (about food) on the Internet.
The few things I’ll leave out today are the pieces about the Indian market and the big Indian cooking projects. They’ll get their own space, maybe later this week. But since they are decidedly non-pork centric, those stories will have to wait.
Even excluding my South Asian adventure, the story still goes around the world while staying within a stone’s throw of the Delaware Valley.
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