Ice Cream Sandwiches for Idiots
So who is the idiot here? The Saratoga Idiots got all hot and bothered about the lack of a “kick ass/interesting/inexpensive ice cream sandwich” in their town. And I don’t quite know how it happened, but now it looks like I’ve got Albany engaged in a city versus city showdown.
Yeah. Sorry about that.
As we speak the Saratoga Idiots and myself are trying hash out how this is all going to go down, and when. But while they’ve been building excitement around Spa City, I’ve been on the road and doing bupkis.
All Good Bakers is working on something and they have said good things about the ice cream sandwiches at the City Beer Hall. But Wheatfields in Saratoga Springs has already developed their entry. Take a look. And Saratoga can tap into Ice Cream Man and their 300+ flavors.
So today is a call for entries, a request for nominations, and a pep rally all in one.
Outstanding Giveaways
Update (7/29): I received the following email from the Schenectady Greenmarket, “Our big event is now postponed — right now we are looking at January 6th…Sorry about that.”
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When it rains it pours.
Yesterday I announced the giveaway of three local and sustainable egg and cheese sandwiches from All Good Bakers. Later today, Bob W. will be picking up his prize of local biodynamic vegetables and fresh, seasonal, local fruit. Next week it will be Steph W.’s turn.
And today, I’ve got a pair of tickets to a local food event that are worth forty bucks. Normally, I’d be there, but like the opening of Trader Joe’s it’s going to happen while I’m out of town. That’s bad news for me, and good news for you.
Let me tell you more about the event and what you have to do to make ‘em yours.
The Eggman
Koo koo ka-joob!
I’m just going to go off half-cocked on eggs. Sorry, I can’t help myself. Eggs are awesome. They have been described for their cooking properties as being a miracle in a shell. And I love them to pieces, in all their forms.
I love them poached, fried, hard boiled, soft boiled, deviled, scotched, baked, scrambled, shirred, and basted. I like them both in sandwiches and on top of sandwiches. A beautiful poached egg (and some warm bacon dressing) can even get me enthusiastic about a salad. For savory dishes you can drop one in some soup, use it to bind fried rice, or salt the yolk and use it to batter whole fried shrimp.
And then there is the glory of the egg and cheese sandwich which will be vastly different depending on where you are in the country. Breakfast burritos, while they are not sandwiches, certainly count as a regional variant of the form.
But I hate what has happened to eggs. Our eggs are a national tragedy.
Sell Out Sunday – Three To Get Ready
In theory I suppose I could be using this platform to tell you all about the evil things going on with food this week. You know, all of things that you should be getting riled up about. That would include the letters I’d like you to write your senators, the online petitions I’d ask you to sign, and the products I’d suggest you reconsider buying.
But I think that would be more annoying than this lighthearted recap of press releases from the week. Except these are no longer just press releases. Some of them are just email blasts that I’ve gotten from food businesses in the region. But all of them have for some reason captured my attention.
Therefore you may be interested in them too. Plus it’s been a late night of packing for PA and I don’t have time to write an entirely original post. The truth always comes out. Well, anyway, today there are three. I hope you learn something new.
When You Are Hungry You Eat
Most people don’t go out for three lunches in one day. Nor do they regularly indulge in second breakfast. Recently Little Miss Fussy and I passed some time at the counter of my favorite diner on a little father-daughter date. But we had both eaten just a couple hours before. So we didn’t order a lot of food, just a couple of things to tickle our fancy.
I’m not like most people, and that’s fine by me.
Although sometimes people confuse me. Take for example the food lover who happens to be in Troy and checks into Dunkin’ Donuts. Troy just isn’t that big. On the north side of town you have Bella Napoli with their pillowy yeasted donuts and crisp cake ones (just avoid their glazed). A bit to the southeast is The Cookie Factory with its light as air glazed donut with a crackling coating brightened with a hint of citrus. Over the river to the southwest is Schuyler Bakery that has been making the same old-time donuts since before I was born (while I’m not the biggest fan, this style has its backers).
The point is that regardless of where you are in Troy, you can’t be further than five minutes away from a great freaking donut. And donuts are one of those foods that are so bad for you, so loaded in fat, sugar, and refined flour, that if you are going to eat one, it best be delicious.
But this person was hungry and said, “When you are hungry, you eat.” I’m not convinced.
Ask the Profussor – Almost August
Don’t let summer pass you by. That warning probably sounds a bit out of place coming in mid-July, the day after we got our first corn of the season from Roxbury Farm. But depending on how you count, it could already be halfway over. Every day the sun is setting earlier. Each day is almost two minutes shorter than the day before.
This week will mark the end of the first session of Little Miss Fussy’s summer camp. And then we are off to Pennsylvania for a little R&R. When I return it will be August, which is also known as the month when the temperature starts cooling down as we march towards the inevitable fall.
Today however is dedicated to my commitment of answering all your questions from the past two weeks. Because while I may not respond to every single comment posted on these pages, I do want to make sure burning questions don’t go unanswered. Just so long as it is asked with proper punctuation, every query eventually will be fulfilled.
Now before you go off and run through some sprinklers, or whatever it is you do for fun in the summer, let’s get through these questions.
Chicken Sausage Party
So, a while back I get an email with a promotional offer. And I liked the PR firm’s gumption. Here are the most relevant parts. I’ve added boldface for emphasis:
As an influential blogger in the Albany community, al fresco All Natural – America’s #1 chicken sausage —wants to help you throw a dinner party!
Here’s the scoop: We will provide you with the basic supplies needed to host a fun dinner party featuring al fresco – coupons to purchase al fresco, cooking gear, recipes with wine pairing suggestions, etc. All you have to do is invite a few friends over for dinner and then share your (honest!) experience on your blog or on al fresco’s Facebook page.
Now a few months later, they sent me the coupons (and a little bit of schwag)*, I invited some friends, and the sausages have been evaluated. Generally I’ll try whatever anyone wants to send me. If it’s considered food by any subset of the human race, I’ll eat it. If it’s good, I’ll write about. If it’s not, I’ll write about something else.
I don’t feel the need to be critical of the good people who want to send me free food. That’s why you never heard about that disgusting candy I got a while back. Oh man, that was bad.
But Al Fresco asked for my honest opinion, and that’s what you are going to get.
Say Hi To Your Knee
There many things I have trouble understanding. For today let’s focus on two seemingly unrelated topics.
a) Grade school humor
b) Hatred of Heinekin
First, let’s connect them. One of my son’s playmates came up to me and said, “Say ‘hi’ to your knee.” I found this direction to be a bit perplexing. But decided to oblige the young man, so I looked down at my knee and said, “Hi.”
The youngster was visibly disappointed. It seemed I failed in the successful completion of his modest instruction. So with a bit more urgency he commands me again to, “Say ‘hi’ to your knee.” I was flummoxed. I had just done exactly that. What went wrong? What did he want me to do?
Then it clicks. He’s eight. So I say, “Hi knee.” And the boy erupts into hysterics. Get it? Heinie. All eight year old boys love a good tush joke.
Which brings us to the other incomprehensible thing I’ve discovered in my travels. People far and wide seem to hate Heineken. And I never got that either. There’s no tush joke here, but I finally had a bottle that tasted like ass.
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