Small Hot Dogs, Big Differences
Despite all odds, the Tour de Hot Dog will go down as a success.
I awoke early on Saturday morning to find myself in acute gastrointestinal distress. Coincidentally Albany Jane found herself in a similar (but clearly worse) condition and apologized for canceling at the last minute. But I knew that at 11am there were people showing up at the Cohoes Hot Dog Charlie’s. And I couldn’t let them down.
Pills were swallowed. Fluids were consumed. A power-nap was taken. And unbelievably I found the <ahem> intestinal fortitude to sample two dogs from each of the five establishments on the tour.
Granted, there was a lot of groaning and whining at the last two stops.
Officially we were ten, as determined by the number of ballots completed. Six of us went to all five destinations. The other four completed just the three most famous local hot-dog joints that constituted Round One. I finally have all the score sheets in front of me, and am ready to dish about dogs. Even if it makes Mr. Dave cry.
The Boxer
So maybe booze isn’t the only answer. I falsely assumed that anyone who reads this blog was a lover of all things gustatory. Sure, some people (including my dear friends and loved ones) enjoy booze a bit too much and turn away from the stuff that is credited with building civilization as we know it, and that’s all well and good.
But beyond those few, the idea of people actively not drinking is a mystery to me. I’m not talking about drinking and gettin’ slizzard. Rather I’m confused about excluding an entire world of sensory delights, like the depth and complexity of a great brandy. But all of these are questions for another time.
Because when push came to shove, I did not give my kid’s teachers bottles of whiskey. I gave them boxes of chocolates. Herbal, soothing, relaxing tisanes (AKA not teas) were considered briefly, but ultimately came in second place to chocolates.
Although it’s probably unlike any box of chocolates they’ve ever encountered.
Ham-O-Rama
Be forewarned, this post is going to a deep dark place.
I have ham envy. I do. The only ham I grew up with was sliced deli ham for the occasional ham sandwich. It’s one of those odd quirks of being raised in a Reform Jewish home. Ham sandwiches were fine but a ham dinner would have been out of the question.
Bacon and sausage for breakfast weren’t a problem. But nobody was serving pork chops for our evening meal. Cheeseburgers were fine though. My family would even eat moo shoo pork when we went out for Chinese food.
Naturally, the end result of this experiment in depravation was a dramatically increased appetite and enthusiasm for all things pork-tastic. This just happens to be the season for ham, so it’s at the top of my mind.
Maybe you will have ham for Christmas dinner. Maybe you will even take me up on my favorite wine pairing with the joint. Maybe you will have to endure a lot for it. You know, like putting up with family, or taking a long airplane flight and getting shoved into a middle seat.
But imagine if you had to spend your entire life in that seat.
Christmas Wine
Christmas is almost here, and people are starting to crack. I say that having observed families in the mall on one of the last weekend shopping days before the holiday. Yesterday was a day of great learning.
Not least of which, I learned with several intrepid readers all about the mini-hot-dogs of the Capital Region. Let me just tell you, ten of those little buggers are harder to put away than you might imagine. Even over the course of a few hours.
I also visited a new espresso bar in town that could be quite promising.
Anyhow, time is running out. Not just for you, but for me. There are really two things I want to make sure people know about Christmas and wine, so I’m going to try to squeeze them both in today. One is about an incredible gift for the wine lover in your life. The other is some thoughts on the challenge of a Christmas wine pairing.
It’s like two posts in one.
B.I.T.O.A.
Gifts are tricky. Holidays can be trying. And sometimes you have to get someone a gift. Any gift. Still, it needs to be special, but you don’t want to spend a lot of money. And the last thing you want to do is buy another piece of junk that will just sit there and be unappreciated.
To you, I say B.I.T.O.A.
ADS and I had a bad habit of buying junk. To make matters worse, we would each work to convince the other to buy junk we didn’t need. My greatest victory was convincing ADS to buy an absolutely hideous shower curtain. Sometimes we would go to garage sales.
It was at one of these I found a golden tome in a gilded box. It was the B.I.T.O.A. Handbook written by Woody Woodbury. I read a few pages in, and couldn’t tell if this was a club, a cult or a put-on. Did I mention it also came with a vinyl record?* But the inescapable draw which caused me to buy the item was the simple and powerful truth of the acronym itself.
The Perfect Chip
I should probably be writing more about Christmas gifts today, but what can I say? If you have a specific question, you’ll ask. And in the meantime I was so surprised by the response to yesterday’s post on a product that got the FUSSYlittle Seal-of-Approval, I’m moved to mention something that I’ve had on the shelf for a few months.
Chips, or crisps, or what have you. They are delicious. But given all my concerns about food, they are very problematic indeed.
Probably my favorite chip of all time is the Herr’s Salt and Vinegar. The vinegar is strong in this one. But there is trouble in paradise. Potatoes are one of the vegetables that I try to eat organic. They are fried in corn/cotton/soybean oil, all of which are major GMO crops and are also chemically extracted. And finally, there is the partially hydrogenated vegetable oil. These are on top of some of the regular food additives and preservatives that are in most highly processed foods.
I’ll still eat them, lovingly and with great enjoyment. What is it they say? Love the sinner, hate the sin? But I’m always on the lookout for something salty, crunchy, and tasty to snack on that fits with my worldview.
Then Shazam! Out of the corner of my eye at the Pioneer Market in Troy, I found it.
Yummy. Yucky.
Little Miss Fussy is a hoot. She’s daddy’s little girl. Mrs. Fussy asked, “What’s your favorite thing.” To which LMF enthusiastically replied, “FOOD!” Pressing on, Mrs. Fussy asked, “What else?” And the answer was, “Whipped cream.”
The little one can also sing esoteric Talking Heads songs and some obscure, lyrically intense early Dylan. It’s just that Desolation Row and Gates of Eden just make for good lullabies.
But recently I’ve been reading her this great book that divides the world into a simple dichotomy. Yummy or Yucky. You may know a few of these, but stick with me here. Spaghetti is yummy; worms are yucky. Burgers are yummy; boogers are yucky. Fish sticks are yummy; fish food is yucky.
Stop.
Fish is a pretty sore subject for me. I’d like my grandchildren to be able to eat fish that lived in the wild. But I think right now that future is far from certain. We don’t eat that much of it, and before this book came into the house my children had no idea something called fish sticks existed.
When I do buy fish I make a point to consult with Seafood Watch to make sure I’m making good choices. And you know what? Many fish sticks are surprisingly not that bad from a sustainable seafood perspective. I for one was quite surprised.
So guess who bought some fish sticks?
Old. New. Borrowed. Blue.
It is present time. I got some Chanukah gelt—that’s money—from my family to spend on myself this year. It’s burning a hole in my pocket, and I’m thinking about what I should buy myself.
Most people right about now are in a similar yet different bind. You are likely trying to figure out what to buy for someone else. After all, Christmas is only a week and a half away. Now, I want you to have free time to attend this Saturday’s Tour de Hot Dog, so I’m motivated to help you solve your holiday shopping dilemmas.
To kick off the easy but meaningful potential present parade, I’m borrowing a device that has nothing to do with Christmas. Well, maybe that’s not entirely true. You get presents on Christmas and you get presents on your wedding. How many brides have gleefully exclaimed when opening up their wedding presents, “This is even better than Christmas”?
I’m guessing at least one.
Is Your Fly Buttoned?
Yesterday was my 500th post. It kind of slipped by unnoticed, but I didn’t want to let a milestone pass without any kind of acknowledgement. So instead, today we’ll commemorate post 501.
While 500 is evocative of mostly car races (think Daytona and Indy) 501 brings to mind only one thing. And that one thing speaks to authenticity, quality and integrity. Or at least it used to. It’s been a long time since I’ve done any work for Levi’s.
But I’m going to go with that.
Mostly because these are things that I try to focus on in this little corner of the interweb. And they tie in nicely to a response I wanted to give to a great question that was submitted earlier this month regarding hot dogs and eggnog.
FUSSYlittleBLOG 