Chinese Cuisine, Pakistani Style
This isn’t a review. If you want a review you should go here.
This is a salute to bravery, both on the side of restaurateur and restaurant goer.
This is a call to arms, in defense of that bravery.
This is a call to action for you to be brave yourself.
There are regional foods I have found around the Capital District that I have not experienced elsewhere. The foot-long fish fry sandwich. The miniature hot-dog with meat sauce. I did try a Neba from Mr. Subb but I really don’t think that counts.
Just about the last thing I expected to find in the Albany area was a traditional style of Pakistani food that had never even popped up on my radar.
They Call It A Doggy Bag
Most restaurant portions are too big.
Luckily it seems the tide is turning, with restaurants offering the option of smaller portions. Not small plates per se, but the option of having six ounces of steak rather than twelve. In part that has been attributed to the declining economy. But I’m really hoping that this trend will stick with us even after the national fiscal situation improves.
Because most restaurant portions are too big.
Over the past several years, Mrs. Fussy has had extraordinary success in getting me to begrudge waste. This was not something I learned growing up. Our refrigerator was so full of good stuff that nobody even knew what was in there. I remember once discovering an unopened carton of eggs that had all gone bad. Those eggs must have been there for a long long time. And not one of the dozen had even been touched.
Now in our household almost nothing goes to waste. It’s really quite remarkable. So yes, I do eat leftovers.
They Found Me, Marty
I am a bit of a data geek.
One of the most fun things I have witnessed over the few months of writing the FUSSYlittleBLOG is that new people keep trickling in from all over the place.
And one question is, “How did they find me?”
And one answer is, “Google.”
There are two things I am thankful for to the geniuses at WordPress (and probably more). But right now I am thinking about two.
1) Somehow optimizing blog pages to perform well in organic Google searches.
2) Providing the data of which search terms resulted in traffic to the blog.
First, I’d like to talk about number one, before moving on to the significantly more fun number two.
Summer Wanes
Likely you are not going to a barbecue today. Most likely you are going to a cookout, where there will be foods thrown on a hot grill. Some may even grill ribs, and baste them with barbecue sauce. That doesn’t make it barbecue. The same goes for chicken.
Maybe I’m preaching to the choir, and you have all read and memorized my rant on grilling versus barbecue. But I’ll stand on this soapbox until I have absorbed the penetrating smoke ring of righteousness.
In all seriousness, summer is on its way out.
Today you will do what you will. And at this point I am not going to try and have any influence over your Labor Day activities. Still, I feel compelled to offer a few reminders as we get ready for the seasonal shift.
Two of a Kind
Hopefully my fellow local food writer Celina Ottaway is not too sore about when I disagree with her opinions. She can’t be that sore with me, since I haven’t been de-friended on Facebook.
We sat down a while ago and talked food, and it was almost comical how different our tastes were, despite having a lot of other things in common. So my disagreement with some of her reviews cannot come as much of a surprise to her.
Although recently I found something else on which we agree (I vaguely remember there was a second thing, but it is escaping me at the moment). And in the most unlikely of places: cheap wine. And when I say cheap, I mean very cheap.
About six months ago, she wrote a post about a five dollar red wine, followed by another post on a white wine at the same price by the same producer.
Since then, these wines have been on my list of things to try.
It’s a long list. And I’m a busy man. So cut me some slack.
Frank’s Wild Years
There is certainly a coastal divide on the matter of chicken wings.
Those on the east coast are wing-rich, while those poor poor souls out west are wing-poor. They also complain about a lack of bagels and pizza. Poor sweet babies.
Even more than I love Buffalo wings, I love Buffalo wing sauce. The wings are merely a delivery device. When ordering I always ask for extra sauce on the side to dip my fries, double dip my wings, and mix into the blue cheese dressing. I have even been known to bring home extra containers of sauce to do unspeakable things, such as tossing it with buttered pasta.
Now there are two things that are obvious to everyone in the northeast, but took me well into my twenties to learn:
Not By The Hair Of My Ginny Gin Gin
Recently I found myself to be the unexpected recipient of a large bottle of gin.
It would be nice if distilleries started sending me free stuff to [ahem] review. But this bottle came from my lifelong friend ADS at the close of the S&J wedding weekend. Suffice it to say, he thought we would need a lot more booze to make it through the night at this miserable motel in New Hampshire.
We had not counted on the after party. And thus the emergency supply of hooch ADS procured went largely untouched. Since the TSA would not let him bring it back on the plane, it came home with me.
Generally, I enjoy the classics. And my gin of choice is the traditional Tanqueray. The new gin in my life is its sprightly younger cousin, Tanqueray Rangpur.
Critical Mission
I don’t necessarily agree with a lot that the Times Union writes about food. Sure, there are occasions we find some common ground. But really I could likely have another blog entirely focused on nit-picking the TU to death.
Mrs. Fussy thinks that would be a terrible idea.
She says there is nothing to be gained. That it does not get me closer to my goal of improving the food around Albany. And that it will only piss people off, even though it may feel good.
Mrs. Fussy is one smart lady. So today I will attempt to bring Ruth Fantasia over to my side of the fence.
One Thing
I love good pizza. I love good chicken wings.
Both these foods are similar in the fact that when they are good, it elevates my spirits. When they are disappointing, it really brings me down. I have high standards for each. Neither is terribly good for you. And they both go well with beer.
I suppose they also go well with each other.
And here is where the problem begins.
Ask The Profussor – The First 100
If I can believe the dashboard of the FUSSYlittleBLOG (and I’m not always sure I can) we have passed the first 100 post milestone. Many thanks to you, and many more thanks to the ever patient and quietly suffering Mrs. Fussy who tirelessly makes sure the commas are in the right place and that the devil stays down in the hole.
It’s been almost a month since the last AskTP, so there is a lot of catching up to do.
FUSSYlittleBLOG 