Chains of Love
All communities have their divides, their wedge issues. These are things where there seems to be no compromise. You are either with us or against us. They incite passions, and make otherwise reasonable people behave in unimaginable ways.
Well, the biggest community of food lovers in Albany can be currently found at the Table Hopping blog over at timesunion.com. Steve Barnes has been working hard to build it for the paper over the past few years.
And like any community, it has its divides. One of the battle lines has been drawn on the subject of chain restaurants.
Every time the name of a chain restaurant is invoked, there are people who start salivating around the corners of their mouths. Some with rabid anger, and others out of some lurid desire to eat at a mainstream American chain.
For some reason I am compelled to try and find some middle ground, because as much as I love honest restaurants, where high quality ingredients are prepared from scratch to order, sometimes I love a meal from a chain restaurant.
Yep. Love.
Coffee and Gas
My kids learned at a very early age that coffee makes adults go. It’s probably not the best lesson to be teaching them. But in our family it’s true. And I imagine it is also true for many people. Coffee’s power as a stimulant is one of the reasons that it is so popular all around the world.
Given its invigorating effects, it is no wonder that coffee is sold at gas stations everywhere.
Long distance driving can get dull, and drivers can get sleepy. Sometimes a slow but persistent caffeine drip is exactly what one needs to make it safely through the last 100 miles of a sizable road trip. So we rely on gas stations to fuel up both the car and the driver.
To some, gas station coffee is coffee. And there are many who think more upscale coffee places are nothing but pretense and marketing. In many regards, they may have a point. But if you can keep an open mind, I’d like to make a counterpoint.
Adventure vs. Comfort
I was in Manhattan recently. There was some eating involved. But really I went down to be with family.
There are two major things that I’ve never done in the city. Surely there are many many more. But there are two things that are really unforgivable. I’ve never eaten my way through the Lower East Side – in fact I’ve never eaten there at all. I have also never eaten in NYC’s Chinatown, which given my love for dim sum and my lack of access to good dim sum in Albany, one might think it would be at the top of my list.
And it is.
But that doesn’t mean that either of those places got worked into my latest trip. They didn’t. Instead, I went with my mother and my sister to the tried and true. We went to a little bit of comfort in midtown. It’s a place for tourists, to be sure. But there, I’m not a tourist. It’s been a regular pit stop for me in the city for over a decade. And that’s the Carnegie Deli.
Scotch Time
Thank you to everyone who took action based on Friday’s post. Honestly, I have no idea if any of our letters to the government will amount to a hill of beans, when it comes time for them to make a decision. But doing something feels better than idly sitting by and doing nothing.
I really do appreciate all of your support. Now just make sure to tell your friends, and have them help spread the word too.
Anyhow, now we can continue with our ongoing corruption education of Ellen Whitby. At first she was interested in some starter scotches, and I had some thoughts. Now she wants to know:
Is there a traditional time for drinking Scotch (before or after dinner, for example)? Or a traditional way to drink it (with or without a meal, with a cigar)?
And I am only too happy to share my thoughts on the matter.
The Little Rascals
Your regularly scheduled Friday Scotch post will not be appearing today. Instead, based on chatter all around teh internets, I feel compelled to talk about the following:
As a kid I used to watch The Little Rascals. I used to watch it a lot. But when I think about it now, only two of said rascals come immediately to mind: Spanky and Alfalfa. If I think a little harder, the mind shakes loose the name Buckwheat, but that has more to do with Eddie Murphy than my childhood memories.
Oh, and there was a dog.
Sparky was the leader, and Alfalfa was the unlikely Romeo. Alfalfa was the tall skinny one with the cowlick that wouldn’t quit. And Alfalfa was the one who sang terribly.
I only mention this because for most people this is the beginning and end of their association with Alfalfa. But depending on whom you talk to, Alfalfa is in trouble, and Spanky is now working for Monsanto.
Ask the Profussor – New Year, New Answers
Welcome to the first Ask the Profussor of 2011. There is no doubt that we are in the thick of winter in Albany. But thanks to the early sign up requirements of my CSA, I am already beginning to dream of spring.
How far away can it be? January is mostly over. There is a week of vacation in February, where once again I will not be traveling down to my sunny childhood home of Miami. March isn’t really Spring though is it? One of these years I’ll get a handle on the seasons. But it’s not easy having spent most of my life in Florida and California.
For anyone new here, every few weeks I answer the accumulated unanswered questions on the FUSSYlittleBLOG. If you have a question, I promise to get it answered. The secret is just making sure your question includes a question mark. Otherwise it may be missed.
Now, without any further ado, on to the answers.
The CSA Took My Grumpy Away
(Note: To play the accompanying audio track to this post, click here)
There’s something different about me. Besides the obvious. There is something different about me recently. I’ve changed.
It’s been gradual to be sure. But this is one of the nice things about having a daily diary of my food thoughts. The FLB is an indelible record of my opinions and attitudes about food and eating. Perhaps you have noticed that a year and a half ago, when this thing started, I was a lot grumpier.
Lately these days, I’ve been feeling like a booster for the region. And now I have to ask myself, where did my grumpy go?
Without a doubt there is a lot that has changed since I moved here over three years ago. A reasonable argument could be made that it takes a few years to really discover what is special about a place. It even took a few years to warm up to my beloved Berkeley, California. But I can easily pick out one thing above all the others that has lifted my spirits and given me more warm and glowing thoughts about living in the region.
Completing my first season with a local CSA.
No Fry Zone
If all goes well, there should be an Ask the Profussor later this week. But there was one question that has come up a couple of times over the past few days which really demands it’s own post. It’s about my Super Bowl preplanning and game strategy.
RealFoodMom was first to ask:
Am I missing something if I suggest cooking your own chicken wings at home? They would be hot and fresh, and even could be made out of happy meat.
And KB @ Home-Baked Happiness also chimed in:
You could make your own wings. Or buy the kind that are frozen in a bag, so they can be fresh out of your oven.
Even the mysterious Fuddley got in on the action:
I agree w/real food. Shovel out the grill and do them right. Enjoy the party and the friends. All the commercials will be on youtube later.
All of these are perfectly reasonable suggestions. Well, except for the notion that wings should be prepared any way other than deep fried. I do especially appreciate the notion of eating the wings from happy chickens during the big game. But fundamentally, there is one major consideration that none of these suggestions address.
The Fussy household is a no-fry zone.
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