Archive for food
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greg
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We’re doing all the wrong things in our cars nowadays.
We’re texting, talking on the phone, shaving, putting on makeup. Driving falls somewhere in the middle of the pack.
I like what we used to do in our cars—like eating (when the car is parked) and watching movies with speakers hanging on the windows.
The Woodward Dream Cruise is this weekend, so it’s impossible not to turn on the wayback machine.
They ran rampant in the 1950s and ’60s—drive-ins of both food and cinema.
Woodward was one of the main providers of the greasy spoons at which you’d park and a gum-chewing, sassy girl would take your order. Maybe she was on roller skates.
But other main thoroughfares were drive-in havens: Gratiot, Groesbeck, Jefferson.
Now, all you can muster for a drive-in food fix is the occasional A&W or the newish Sonic locations.
If you wanted dinner AND a movie, you could do that in your car as well; but the drive-in theaters are pretty much gone, too.
I missed the cruising by a hair; I grew up in the ’70s, and didn’t start driving until 1979. By then, cruising was fading fast. But it sounds like fun: zooming up and down a busy pike, windows rolled down, flirting and having a good old time.
Then, when your stomach growled, you pulled in to any one of many joints where you could eat in your buggy.
I was able to enjoy a couple drive-in eateries as a child: the Big Boy at the southwest corner of Plymouth and Farmington Roads in Livonia, and Daly’s at Merriman and Plymouth. They’re both still there, but the Big Boy hasn’t been a drive-in for years. You can still eat in your car at Daly’s—home of the foot long Daly Dog coney.
“Get the Daly Habit!,” it still screams on all their bags and containers.
I remember eating fish and chips from Big Boy in the car, back when they served it in a basket lined with faux newsprint from the U.K. to give it that “genuine” British fish and chips feel.
Menus on stands with speakers at every parking space, under a large awning; what a cool concept.
I still go to Daly’s, by the way—usually when we visit my mother in Livonia. She likes it, too. Always has.
It’s good food at a low price, and it’s filling and hearty.
Another cool concept.
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greg
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Break out the Certs, the Tic-Tacs, the gum. Have a jigger of Scope on hand. You might not want a toothbrush—you might want a Brillo pad.
It’s not going to be pretty, and you won’t make any friends who may wander within 10 feet of you, but if you like onions and tomatoes, then you’ll love tomatoes and onions.
There are so many culinary gems that I didn’t know I was missing out on until I met and married my Italian and Polish wife.
One of them is in season right now, and will continue to be, all summer.
It’s the aforementioned tomatoes and onions.
It’s so simple, so as plain as the nose on your face, yet it somehow eluded me all those years, until I hitched myself to Mrs. Eno in 1992.
I like tomatoes. I adore onions. Yet I never thought to combine them so brazenly, so harshly.
Sharon, my lovely wife, gets to slicing onions in those half moon shapes, chops up some tomatoes, then washes her hands, because the rest of the prep is done with hands only.
You dump the onions and tomatoes into a bowl. Add some salt and pepper to taste. Then start adding olive oil, about one teaspoon at a time.
With your hands, get in there and start squishing.
You heard me. Squish and squeeze and mix and tumble—all with your hands. Add more olive oil if things aren’t slimey enough in the bowl. Add more salt and pepper, if you so desire.
Keep squishing and squeezing until you have something the consistency of coarse salsa.
Then chill for about an hour.
You won’t win any popularity contests because of your rancid breath, but your taste buds will think you’re the cat’s meow.
So simple, as I said, but oh, is it good!
The key is to use very ripe tomatoes that are in season. Not those orangey things some restaurants pass off as tomatoes in winter time. The riper the tomato, the juicier it is, which is paramount here, because the tomato juices mixed with the olive oil provides the perfect dressing.
It’s a great complement to any summer meal, but especially works with burgers, hot dogs, or even grilled chicken.
The longer the concoction stays in the bowl, chilling, the better it tastes. The next day is even better.
Tomatoes and onions. That’s what we call it.
Because that’s what it is.
That, and delicious.
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greg
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Rachael Ray has no children, but she seems to care about them more than some who do.
Ray, the sometimes ubiquitous TV host/TV cook/author/Dunkin’ Donuts pitch girl, is putting some heat in other people’s kitchens—specifically those in our schools.
Ray is joining a bi-partisan legislative effort in Washington to help move along the “Improving Nutrition for America’s Children Act of 2010.”
Among other things, the proposed $8 billion bill would improve access and funding to school meal programs, improve access to out-of-school meal programs, help schools and child care improve the quality of meals and encourage public and private partnerships to improve child nutrition and wellness.
Ray spoke at a press conference in Washington Thursday.
“A healthy relationship with food has changed the quality of my life in every way imaginable,” Ray said.
She then drew a parallel between eating healthy and a child’s future.
“I really think that teaching a child good nutrition and the basics of cooking gives them the skills they need for self-esteem and security for the rest of their lives,” she said.
The legislation is in response to the challenge that President Obama and First Lady Michelle Obama laid out in their “Let’s Move” initiative to support efforts to improve school wellness and support public and private partnerships to improve child nutrition.
Ray is child-less, but that was a personal choice based on her belief that, frankly, her schedule and lifestyle wouldn’t be conducive to good parenting.
Pity more so-called “parents” didn’t take that tack before bringing little people into the world.
Rachael Ray
Ray says that at a time when there seems to be so much bad and sad news all the time, it’s heartening to see a bi-partisan effort to ensure that not only do kids eat healthy, but that they eat, period.
“Close your eyes and imagine being a child and literally going hungry,” she said as she stressed that eating healthy can be inexpensive as well.
Her voice echoed that of legislators.
Rep. George Miller (D-California) said at a media briefing Thursday that in 2008 more than 16 million children lived in homes without access to enough nutritious foods.
“America’s children should not have to go hungry and they should have access to healthy foods year round, even when school children are on summer break,” said Miller.
Ray added, “Just being able to eat a good, nutritious meal really improves the quality of your life, as well as the longevity of it.”
Ray can be a polarizing entity because of her sometimes over-exposure on television and elsewhere. Other TV cooks/chefs like world traveler Anthony Bourdain have been less-than-enthralled with Ray and her cuisine.
But I’ve never heard Bourdain impart this message.
“Every child in this country is born with a light shining inside them,” Ray said, “and it’s our duty to keep that light shining bright.”
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greg
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Sanders is coming back, after all.
No, Lions fans, I don’t mean Barry.
Sanders Candy is being reanimated, thanks to the help of Morley Brands.
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“Fundraising really took a hit in the 1980s and ’90s,” Morley Brands President Ron Rapson tells CNNMoney.com about the fetish schools, Boy Scout troops, and other organizations had for hawking Morley candies to beleaguered friends and relatives. “It got to the point where it wasn’t really a money maker. So we decided to go back to what we did best—making chocolates.
“And we hooked up with another great company—Sanders,” Rapson adds.
Fred Sanders’ company hit the market in Detroit in 1875, offering everything from candy to milk shakes to ice cream. In its heyday—from the 1950s through the ’70s, you could hardly drive more than a few miles in metro Detroit without running into a joint that sold Sanders products, or that had a genuine soda jerk emphasizing Sanders goodies.
But about 20 years ago, Sanders started falling off the map.
That’s about to change.
Rapson now also holds the title of President of Sanders Candy, as Morley decided to take over the brand. And they haven’t taken that responsibility lightly, according to Brian Jefferson, Majority Partner of Sanders Candy.
“We looked at all the different logos Sanders has had over the past 130-plus years,” Jefferson says. “I believe we came up with nine different ones. And we picked one from the 1920s that we feel best captures the vision that Fred Sanders had.”
When even the logo is selected carefully, you know that this isn’t the typical buying out of another company.
“It’s a labor of love,” Jefferson says. “We have a sense of responsibility, not only to our workers, but to the community, in bringing back this brand.”
For those worried that Morley will take the Sanders product and brand and run roughshod over it, fret not, according to Rapson.
“You have to be careful. You want to keep these old brands going, but you have to tweak them and continuously improve them so that you can bring them to new markets and new customers,” Rapson says.
“Because you want the new customers to experience what we have enjoyed and experienced in Detroit for all these decades.”
I’ll eat to that.
For more info about Sanders candy, visit www.sanderscandy.com
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greg
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I’ve been eating more apples lately than a stable full of horses, and it’s a damn miracle, as far as I’m concerned.
For years—and we’re talking at least 20—I was unable to munch on a fresh apple. It was some sort of allergy, because my throat would close up a tad and I’d have hay fever-type symptoms: sneezing, watery eyes, and even my lips would tingle.
Cooked apples were fine, as in pies, turnovers, etc. Applesauce was good, too.
Then, a change. Divine intervention, maybe.
I hazarded an apple a couple months ago, on a whim. Our daughter’s band had a fundraiser and there was a whole box of apples sitting there, waiting to be consumed. I chomped into one and waited for the usual reaction. For the past several years, every so often I’d try an apple, and every time I’d be disappointed.
This time was different.
A few seconds went by after the first bite. Nothing. I tried another. Still no reaction. I kept eating.
I finished the thing, and it was deLISH. You have no idea how good an apple can be if you haven’t been able to enjoy one for two decades.
I found out the apples were called Honeycrisps (I’m finding out a lot about the different strains of apple) and I won’t buy any other. Of course, they’re the most expensive ones out there—about $2.49 a pound unless you can find them on sale.
But a Honeycrisp almost bites itself. You just press your teeth against one and the skin is pierced and inside you’re treated to a sweetish tartness that’s fantabulous.
A Honeycrisp apple; YUM!
I’ve been on an apple-eating jag since before Halloween. Our daughter asked me a few weeks ago if I wanted to slice my apple and swipe the pieces into some caramel dip that we had on hand.
“No,” I told her. “I don’t want to dilute the flavor.”
I have no idea why my body isn’t rebelling against apples anymore. Fresh cherries gave me the same reaction—and I love fresh cherries—but I’m sad to report that I tried ONE cherry this summer and it was bad news.
But that’s OK. I have my apples back in my life.
At this rate, I’ll never have to see a doctor again.
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greg
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Wow—I really could have had a V8.
Rummaging in the fridge the other day, in the post-Thanksgiving version of nuclear winter, I happened to take a gander wayyy back on the third shelf down.
There they were: a few six-ounce cans of V8, “Extra Spicy” version.
I actually enjoy V8. A lot. Yet it’s not something I think about buying. I cruise right by it in the grocery store.
The company’s longtime tag line is spot on.
“I coulda had a V8!!”
Forget how good it tastes as part of a bastardized Bloody Mary; V8 is surprisingly refreshing (considering it’s made from…VEGETABLES!) and has one of the best after tastes you’ll ever find in a drink—especially one made from…VEGETABLES!
This isn’t tomato juice, by the way; let’s get that clear right off the bat. It looks like tomato juice, yes. And its primary flavor is clearly culled from tomatoes. But this isn’t just tomato juice. The drink’s name ought to tip you off: eight vegetables (at least) squeezed and mashed together into a sort of non-alcoholic hooch that’ll bowl you over with its tang and flavor.
Yeah, I sound like I’m hawking the stuff, but I don’t care. A swig of V8 is like smelling salts for your mouth—it wakes it up, and fast.
Yet I rarely buy it. I never ask for it at restaurants. Something so good, something I enjoy so much, yet I shove it back to the recesses of my brain. What gives?
I suppose that’s what the V8 folks (it’s put out by Campbell’s) have been battling over the decades. They have a terrific product that sticks to the customers’ consciousness like Teflon.
It simply is not the first drink of choice, despite how great it is.
I like cranberry juice, too, but that only seems to make its way into our fridge around the holidays—because it mixes really well with vodka, for one.
Might it be the cost? A good sized bottle of cranberry juice—if it’s Ocean Spray, anyway—can run you every bit of four dollars, at least. V8 isn’t cheap, either.
One caveat, though. Don’t drink V8 on ice. Instead, wait until it gets verrry cold, then pour a glass. Then drink it quickly. It’s a process, see. But trust me—I know what I’m talking about here. Follow the above instructions, and you’ll enjoy your V8 immensely.
If you remember to buy some, that is.
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greg
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I wanted some fish, fast food variety, and I bemoaned the lack of a viable option near our house.
Didn’t feel like sitting down at Big Boy’s, or even our local haunt, Sero’s. Not enough dough for Red Lobster. Just wanted some take-out fish, some fries. Fish ‘n chips can hit the spot, when I’m so moved.
But nowhere on 12 Mile Road, near our Madison Heights abode, can there be found any fast fish.
Not even on John R or Dequindre or Ryan, the closest north/south trunks.
Then it occurred to me: there had been one, a Seafood Bay on Dequindre just north of 12 Mile, but I put it out of business.
Let me explain.
Sometime in the late-1990s, I cruised over to “the Bay” for some fast fish and some shrimp. I walked in, ordered, and waited. With nothing else to do, I perused my receipt. And, being the human calculator that I am, I noticed something funny.
The cash register charged us nearly seven percent sales tax, instead of the state rate of six percent.
No big deal, you might say. Only about 20 cents on our $20 bill. But fair is fair.
I brought it to the attention of the pimply-faced kid behind the counter. He shrugged and said the register was programmed that way, and he didn’t seem to understand why there should be any fuss anyway. Certainly not enough to offer an apology, or even much of an explanation.
I stewed.
Bothered, I called the State of Michigan and after being passed around and explaining several times, I finally reached someone whose department it was.
Their reaction floored me.
Not only didn’t they seem bothered by this practice, they in essence told me that as long as the state gets its six percent, they’re not all that interested in what places program into their cash registers. No joke.
Now I was really steamed. My little 20 cent overcharge was now turning into a crusade.
Because, at nearly a full percent overcharge per transaction, Seafood Bay’s franchise owner on Dequindre could make a pretty penny, if he was doing it on purpose.
I wrote to the State Attorney General, who was still good old Frank Kelley at the time, who was simply one of the finest men to ever serve the folks in Michigan, bar none.
A couple weeks later, I got a reply from Kelley—signed by him—indicating that his people would look into the matter. He was bothered. And if Frank Kelley said he would do something, you could go to the bank on it.
A month or two later, that Seafood Bay was CLOSED.
Coincidence?
I told my wife, partly kidding, that I put Seafood Bay out of business. Me. At least, that location.
Tonight it came back to haunt me. For I was in the mood for some fast fish, and I ended up having to drive all the way to Long John Silver’s at 8 Mile and Ryan (whose food is delicious, by the way). Because there was no viable alternative along the 12 Mile/John R/Dequindre/Ryan stretch.
Because I had put the only viable alternative out of business.
Hey, I just call ‘em like I see ‘em.
Charge the right amount of sales tax. Is that so much to ask?
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greg
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Howard Johnson’s is dead and they took their corn toastees with them.
Pox on them, anyway!
HoJo’s, with their distinctive orange roofs, used to be strewn all over these United States—part inn, part restaurant. And, eventually, part grocer supplier.
Howard Johnson’s came to be known for their ice cream and something else that we’ll delve into in a moment. The ice cream was so good, so popular, that it first became available near the cash register, in a serve yourself freezer, before being packaged and distributed to supermarket chains.
One corner of the box—I believe it was the upper left—bore the HoJo logo: orange roof with the name “Howard Johnson’s” underneath. It was almost as iconic in the ice cream world as The Good Humor brand’s little white truck.
But then ice cream wasn’t enough, and HoJo’s came out with some other items for your, as they say, grocer’s freezer.
One of those items was something called “corn toastees.”
These toasties were delectable little squares of cornbread—the flavors were plain and blueberry. They came six or eight to a box, and were separated inside by little pieces of parchment paper.
Oh, how my mother and I became hooked on those things.
An ad for HoJo’s corn toastees, circa mid-1970s
This was the mid-to-late ’70s, and mom would buy the store out. It was not uncommon to see five, six boxes of corn toastees in the freezer.
So simple: pop ‘em in the toaster for a couple minutes, spread them with butter, take a bite, and then your knees would buckle.
Goodness gracious, were they good!
Then they came out with the blueberry flavor, and those were good, too.
But just like that, the corn toastees disappeared. Probably happened around the same time that the HoJo restaurants themselves vanished.
Howard Johnson’s, ironically, was known for serving folks on the road, usually on vacation. But they brought pleasure to mom and me in our own home, thanks to their corn toastees.
I remember laughing at the grocery store once, because the conveyor belt was filled with boxes of those darn toastees.
Toaster Strudel, put out by Pillsbury, are some good eatin’, too—with their flaky crust and tiny packets of frosting and yummy fillings.
Too bad that another company couldn’t have taken over the production of corn toastees, though.
The good really do die young—even when it comes to foodstuffs.
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greg
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In this day of rising inflation, I suppose it only makes sense that companies no longer nickel-and-dime you to death. Some are quartering you to the grave.
Take fast food giants Burger King and McDonald’s, for example.
Apparently we’re all a bunch of dipping sauce packet abusers, for BK and Mickey D’s are beginning to place us on rations.
Yes, despite the economy being in the toilet and other fast food players such as the submarine sandwich industry engaging in pricing wars, Burger King and McDonald’s are having some fun at our expense.
Next time you order some Chicken McNuggets or Chicken Fries or anything that requires dipping sauce, look for a handwritten or half-typed, half-handwritten sign near the drive-thru window or the counter.
It’ll tell you how many dipping sauce packets you get, free of charge, based on what you’ve ordered and the size, along with what it’ll cost you to dare ask for more.
No joke.
Dipping sauce packets are tiny things, perhaps no more than an ounce, ounce-and-a-half in size. Sometimes you can barely fit your processed food into the little tub, truth be told.
They can’t possibly cost more than a few pennies each to produce.
Yet BK and McD’s wants to charge us a quarter (!) for each packet that exceeds the limit that they’ve mandated.
Twenty-five cents?!
First, is there really such an abuse of the dipping sauce packet supply that we need to be rationing? It’s not like they’re freely available to the paying customers, like the hot sauce at Taco Bell—who, by the way, couldn’t care less how many you pilfer. Good for them.
We’ve always had to ask for dipping sauce at BK and McD’s, even before the rationing. And, frankly, usually the reason you would ask was so that you would get some to begin with!
How many times are the sauces left out of your bag? How many times do the cheerful employees forget to ask you if you’d like dipping sauce?
You’re looking at 50 cents!
The sauce distribution at McD’s was always curiously miserly to me. They were treated like gold nuggets. It was almost as if the folks working there hoped you’d forget about them, because they sure didn’t go out of their way to remind you.
Sometimes they’ll ask, but I notice that they ask more now that they’ve put us all on rations.
So you’d think that BK would want to get the upper hand on McD’s. Well, not the location near where I live.
Yesterday I saw that the BK on 12 Mile in Madison Heights is now putting us on dipping sauce rations, too. Instead of doing the opposite—proudly declaring, “NO LIMIT on dipping sauces!”—thus gaining a competitive edge, that location is getting in on the gouging.
Think about this for a moment. Each of these dumb-dumbs have a dollar menu, from which you can order various things, including a cheeseburger. So is one dipping sauce worth 1/4 of a burger?
I wouldn’t be so cranky about it if BK and McD’s had been vigilant in the past about providing sauce and asking if you’d like some. Or if they had been providing it in full view, a la Taco Bell, and folks were taking 10, 11 at a time.
So depending on the size of the item you’ve ordered, you’ll be afforded one (or two) dipping sauce packets, tops. Anything beyond that? Twenty-five cents seems to be the going rate, per packet.
Maybe if the packets were larger, or if it hadn’t been such a teeth-pulling exercise to get them at all in the past, then maybe we wouldn’t be asking for so many.
And how can there have been an abuse of an item that has always had to be requested?
The submarine sandwich people are falling all over themselves right now, offering $5 foot-long subs and, in the case of Quizno’s, even cheaper sandwiches that are only slightly smaller. Those folks know when to strike when the iron is hot.
BK and McD’s?
Gouging us on one-ounce dipping sauce packets while the nation’s economy tanks.
I thought we “deserved a break today” and should “have it our way.”
Sure—for a quarter.
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greg
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You’ll never be able to make fried rice like me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t help you in your ultimately futile effort.
Yeah, I get cocky about it, because no American whips up fried rice like I can.
And you’ve probably been tossing out those cartons of uneaten white rice from the Chinese take-out joints all these years, oblivious to their culinary potential.
Tsk, tsk.
I first started frying rice and creating various concoctions with it about 20 years ago, when I purchased my first Chinese cookbook, having been on an Asian food jag. It was around the time that I discovered Thai food and its glorious heat and spice. Till then, I thought the only spicy Asian stuff was the Szechuan and Mandarin cuisine of China. Silly me.
Homemade fried rice, when done properly, is good on so many levels.
Number one, you’re using up every bit of your Chinese take-out leftovers, so you can feel satisfied about that.
Number two, it’s a terrific way to get rid of some other leftovers that may be in danger of going bad in the fridge.
Number three, you can have fun with it and experiment with different sauces and spices.
The key is preparation, as it is with any stir-fry dish. I’ve made the mistake of starting to stir-fry before all the ingredients were ready for the wok/skillet, and before you know it, you’re Lucille Ball and Vivian Vance in that famous chocolate-wrapping/conveyor belt scene from “I Love Lucy”—trying desperately to rinse and chop veggies while trying to keep the the stuff that’s cooking from burning up.
So get everything prepped before you even turn the burner on.
I like to use a carbon steel wok (like THIS), but you can use a non-stick skillet, too. But it ought to be a big one. Stir-frying is fun, but only if you have enough room to stir and fry. If the skillet is too small, the food won’t cook evenly and it’s not stir-frying—it’s more like flipping pancakes.
If you use a non-stick skillet, make sure to be armed with a wooden or plastic stir-fry utensil (spatula, etc) so as not to ruin the no-stick surface. I use a carbon steel wok mostly, which allows me to utilize my stainless steel spatula, which looks a lot like this.
The best fried rice NOT made by an Asian:
AT LEAST 4 cups of COLD, cooked white rice*
Two eggs
Soy sauce
Ground WHITE pepper
About 1 t fresh ginger, minced
Two cloves of garlic, minced (NEVER garlic powder!)
Salt (to taste)
MSG (if you wish)
Hot pepper flakes (to taste)
Frozen peas and/or corn
Assorted chopped veggies (celery, green pepper, green onion, carrots)
Tiny cooked, canned shrimp (optional; or leftover shrimp)
Any leftover, chopped, cooked meat (boneless chicken or pork, etc)
Sesame oil (about 2 t)
Cooking oil of choice
*Rice MUST be cold, and before cooking, wet hands and break up rice as much as you can, preferably into a separate bowl for easy access when it’s time to add; try to avoid as many clumps of rice as possible
Ready? Here we go.
Make sure everything is chopped and ready to go. As for the amount of the above ingredients that show no amount, you’ll have to use your own judgment. Generally I use about a cup of frozen peas or corn, two stalks of chopped celery, and about six chopped green onions.
1. Heat EMPTY wok/skillet on high heat for about two minutes
2. Pour 2 T cooking oil onto w/s and swirl to cover; add minced garlic and ginger (don’t keep garlic in oil too long before next step, or else it will get brown and crusty)
3. Break the eggs into the w/s and, using spatula, quickly break yolks and fry until you have shards of “scrambled” eggs
4. Add chopped veggies, all at once (EXCEPT for the peas and/or corn!!) and stir-fry until opaque and medium crunchy; also sprinkle mixture with about a 1/4 t of white pepper while frying (MSG added here, if desired)
5. Empty cooked eggs and veggies into another dish and save for later use
6. Keep heat high and add 2 more T of cooking oil
7. Add separated rice and 2 t of sesame oil; stir fry about 5 minutes (while frying rice, add soy sauce to taste, and to give light brown color; also, this is where you’d add desired amount of red pepper flakes for some heat); stir rice VERY often (like, constantly)
8. Add frozen peas/corn, and any shrimp, meat, etc. that you chose to use
9. Stir fry mixture, which is now getting heavier, over high heat, while adding more soy sauce to taste; make sure frozen peas/corn and meat are heated through
10. Pour eggs/veggie mix into the fray
11. Keep stirring and frying over HIGH heat!!
12. Add more soy sauce to taste
13. Enjoy!!
Fried rice, as prepared above, can be a meal all by itself, or at the very least, a substantial side dish. Either way, it’s yummy.
While you make this dish, it’s nice to sip wine or drink beer while cooking.
It doesn’t hurt to make sure that the folks you’re cooking for also have plenty of wine and beer, as well! Just in case.
