Enchanting Food
Are there still people who complain that there’s not much to do in the Capital Region? There are so many incredible events happening this weekend, it’s staggering. But I can’t clone myself, and I’m the kind of person who likes to fully commit to one event, instead of trying to hit them all for just a few minutes.
You’ll drive yourself crazy trying to do everything. It’s an impossible task.
That means I’ll be missing Pearlpalooza 2017, and the really cool free yoga thing that kicks off this year’s street festival. I’ve given up on the Troy on Tap beer festival which is the culmination of Troy Beer Week. I won’t be able to make it up to Artisanal Brew Works for their pig roast. The Altamont Fairgrounds will have to hold the Capital Region Apple & Wine Festival without me. Irish Fest 2000 in Ballston Spa won’t even notice my absence. And The Big Lebowski will have to roll at Proctor’s with one fewer achiever in the seats.
Because on Saturday, just in case you were wondering, I’ll be at The Enchanted City.
Drinking Milk
This may get me into trouble, especially with my friends who are all about supporting local farms and farmers. But I have to get something off my chest about milk.
Are there any adults out there who drink milk for pleasure?
Are there any adults out there who drink milk at all?
I’m not talking about pouring milk in your cereal, or putting a splash of milk in coffee. And I’m not even talking about washing down a dense chocolate brownie with a few sips of cold milk. Really what I’m curious about is if anyone sits down to dinner with a cold glass of milk to accompany a meal.
Because to me, it seems like madness.
The Best of the Best Cider Donut Orchards
Last Saturday was the 8th Annual Tour de Cider Donut, and notably this was the first time we returned to any of the 35 places visited over the past several years.
That’s because this was a tournament of champions, of sorts. The excellent donuts from Hick’s Orchard were eliminated because of their distance from the center of the Capital Region. Also, Cider Belly received a bye into the finals, which will happen at a later date.
More than a dozen people began the tour in Schoharie, but in the end once the tour was finished in Valatie I received nine completed score sheets. Not everyone who started the tour was able to make it through. These are rigorous eating outings, and they take a certain amount of commitment.
By the end of the day I logged 179 miles on the car. Thankfully, I did not count the calories.
Each donut was evaluated on a five point scale, looking at the crust, sugar, cider flavor, internal texture, overall taste, oil, and an overall score for the donut as a whole. Since this was a tournament of champions there wasn’t a bad donut in the bunch, and almost every place we visited was somebody’s favorite.
In the end, there has to be a winner. And there was. But it was close. Here’s how it all went down.
Bagged Lunch
Today is a heavy day. Unfortunately, I sent the kids off to school without adequate preparation for what they might encounter from teachers or classmates. Of course, none of their peers were even born in 2001. Still, I like to provide them with my take on the events. That way, should there be chatter on the bus or in the schoolyard, my children will have knowledge that is rooted in facts.
On the plus side, I did send them off with relatively nutritious bagged lunches. Mostly because school lunch in America still largely sucks. And by sucks, I mean it’s abysmal. We can talk more about that later.
For now, how about some quick thoughts on bagged lunches.
Silencio
You. I rely on you. All of you. Because it’s thanks to you, that I know things about food in the Capital Region.
There’s only one of me. But there’s a lot of us. And when you talk, I listen. Or at least I try. Sometimes I can be a bit interrupty, especially if I’m fired up about something. But it was the Masticating Monkey who first turned me on to The Flying Chicken, Mr. Dave has been an endless source of knowledge about regional foods, and Chantelle the ice cream fanatic pointed me towards the amazing fruit flavors at Samascott. And the list goes on.
This latest find comes from Danielle Sanzone, who is awesome. Although her Twitter feed isn’t quite as active as it used to be. I can’t blame her though. Twitter is awful these days. Anyhow, what she shared with me happens to be from the YouTubes.
If you do decide to read on, get ready to have your productivity sapped for the day.
The Hidden Goodness of Cena Familiar
Here’s the thing about menus. They have limits.
There is only so much information you can cram into a menu. Nobody wants them to be books that tell the whole story of every menu item. Although, I remember in Berkeley, there was an Indian restaurant which did just that. It was an amazing read about every spice and every technique that went into each dish. But every night, it only offered about five different entrees.
Plus, the restaurant did not take reservations. So, the wait to get a table was significant enough that one could really linger on every word of every description to help pass the time.
I don’t know if Cena Familiar vol. 2 is on your radar. It’s a pop up dining experience conceived of by Josh Coletto and Michael Lapi, and hosted by Peck’s Arcade. The first one happened a while back, and the pictures look stunning. The second one is coming up on September 17.
After looking over the menu, I asked Josh some questions about it. And after reading his responses, it sounds even better. With his permission, I’m going to share that conversation with you. And for the sake of full disclosure, I’ll tell you that what follows is minimally edited.
Judging Chicken Wing Dreams
A long time ago, my dream was to get a trailer and park it down in the Florida Keys, and become one of those batshit crazy Key dwellers. Then I had another dream about having some kind of sheep cheese farm.
I have stupid, shitty, dreams.
On Thursday, I’m judging a chicken wing contest. And on Saturday, I’m leading a bunch of people through gorgeous country road to eat five of the best apple cider donuts in Upstate New York. That is to say, I’m living the current version of my stupid, shitty dreams.
So as long as we’re on the subject of dreams and chicken wings, it probably makes sense to talk about how one actually goes about judging a chicken wing, and to put in a quick plug for tomorrow’s big event.
The 8th Annual Tour de Donut: Champions
We’re going donut picking, again. Maybe for the very last time. The next Tour de Cider Donut is just days away, and it’s going to be a doozy. Because this year is the tournament of past champions.
Those who are good at math and familiar with the structure of these tours will see a problem straight away. Over the years, we’ve declared seven winners, but we are only going to make five stops on the tour.
The solution is pretty simple.
One place is simply too far afield, and only made the third annual tour because I was still relatively new to the area and bad at reading maps. Hicks Orchard is excellent. But that’s Lake George, and I made a promise that I would never ask anyone else to drive up there again.
The other place is just too damn good, so Cider Belly is getting a bye into the finals. The city doughnut shop that does little else besides think about how to perfect apple cider doughnuts all day every day will ultimately go head-to-head with the winner of this final trek through the countryside.
Now, those who are unfamiliar with the Fussy Little Tours or the annual Tour de Cider Donut may be scratching their heads. Here’s the important thing. This Saturday, September 9, we’re heading into the wilderness to eat five of the best apple cider donuts in the region. And everyone is invited.
Savoy Students Shake Sours
Did I mention that I’ve given up drinking while I’m in diet mode? Given the work I do, I have allowed for a few exceptions. Like when I’m invited to judge a cocktail contest, I’ll find a way to deal with those liquid calories. But no more beers after mowing the lawn, no glass of whiskey at the end of the day, and no wine with dinner. Although I do allow myself one glass of wine on Friday.
Speaking of stupid diet rules, there are also no fried food, and especially no donuts. However, when work calls, work calls.
Did you hear that ringing?
Mark your calendars. A week from tomorrow is the Fussy Little Tour nobody wants to miss. Saturday, September 9 will be the Tour de Cider Donut: Champion Edition. It will be our eighth annual outing, and we’re going to visit five of the past seven winners. So there’s no need for a nomination phase.
The math savvy among you will realize that two past winners have been excluded. Hicks orchard up by Lake George won the tour back in 2012, but I vowed never to return given the distance. Also, Cider Belly is getting a bye into the grand finale. We need to find out who is best out in the country, before we pit that donut against this amazing Albany doughnut maker. But all the details will come next week.
Because that thing I mentioned about judging a cocktail contest? That actually happened.
Probably Not Kapusta
Family trees were always the worst school projects when I was a kid. We had a big family. And once we got past my grandparents, all of the names were for people I didn’t know. Or maybe I met them once at a family function, but they were either old or dead and I could never keep the names straight.
To this day, I remember having an Uncle Mars somewhere on my father’s side. But I couldn’t tell you how he is related to my cousin Jesse the constitutional lawyer, versus cousin Jesse the intellectual property lawyer.
Suffice it to say, I’ve never paid that close attention to my own ethnic make-up. Sure, I’m Jewish. There’s some Carpathian Mountains in there, so I sometimes say Russian/Polish if pressed. I can generalize and say Eastern European. And despite having no evidence to support the contention, I like to believe there’s at least a little Italian in me somehow.
As long as I’m making up facts to support my theories, I choose to blindly believe that my deep love for certain foods is linked to some kind of latent cultural DNA. Take sauerkraut for example.
Actually, you won’t believe where I took the sauerkraut. But I’ll tell you anyway.
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