From the Heartland...

I swear, all my good intentions about keeping this blog up fell to the wayside for the last couple of months...in case you hadn't noticed.

Work devoured me, and I was busy having nightmares about Hell's Library (you've just not lived until Gordon Ramsay screams at you for not processing holds fast enough and that book carts are backing up), and worrying about the success of my newest project.  I know I don't usually talk about work on this blog, but this customer has consumed most of my waking and sleeping hours for the last year, with it coming hard and heavy for the last month in preparation for go live.

It's not every day that your company brings the largest library consortium in the country online with 426+ libraries coming together from 4 different systems...and it worked out pretty well, if I do say so myself.  There's the inevitable data cleanup and system tweaking that happens with any migration, which will be ongoing for a few weeks, but everything worked and worked at the appointed go live hour!  It was a great load off my pea brain, and maybe, just maybe I can get back to blogging and sleeping without Gordon Ramsay.

 I spent the entire week in southern Illinois for this go live, and had a few culinary adventures.  I took my co-worker who was on site with me over to the Paducah, KY area, specifically Grand Rivers, to eat at Patti's 1880s Settlement.  Yes, after flying into STL and driving for 2.5 hours, I then suggested we go to dinner that was another hour away.  I am the best like that.

I was introduced to Patti's about 15 years ago, when some quilter friends convinced me to come with them to Paducah for the American Quilters Society's National Quilt Show.  (I know, I know...I have a hard time picturing me at a quilt show, too. I'm so not handy with a needle and thread...although I know how to sew on a mean button.)

What enticed me to spend the weekend with them was one of them saying we were going to eat at a place where "they ask you if you want a 1-inch or 2-inch when you order a pork chop."  Sold!

Patti's is a weird little place.  The decor is a whackadoo mix of grandma's parlor, grandpa's front porch, quilts, and other assorted oddities.  All of the female servers wear granny dresses, and the tea served in Mason jars.  Oh, and did I mention the bread comes in a flower pot?  With strawberry butter.

I personally think the 2-inch pork chop is a little too much; it's more like a personal pork roast, and you really want to try and save room for at least 1 bite of dessert.  You may remember this post from a few Thanksgivings ago, when I shared the recipe for the Boat Sinker Pie?  You know, the one with 5 sticks of butter?  This is the home of that pie.  And, they serve it with ice cream!

UPDATED:  LinC reminded me that I had forgotten to post a picture of said pork chop...the pork chop that was practically the size of the plate upon which it was served! Unfortunately, we had already devoured the flowerpot bread.  And, I may as well confess that I gnawed on the bone...but like a dainty wild animal with no growling and furtive looks.


At the end of our long week, we were heading back to St. Louis to spend the night before flying home on Saturday.  One of the folks at the customer's site mentioned a German restaurant in a little town on our route back.  Off the beaten path, in Mascoutah (say that fast 3 times!), we came upon the Roemer Tof Restaurant.

It was the trip for restaurants with weird decor.  There were these giant Christmas wreaths hanging down from the ceiling, like chandeliers, with fancy decorated cookies hanging from them.  I have no idea what they were for, and I didn't care after I got my Holzfäller (Lumberjack) Steak, which was a pork steak topped with roasted onions and bacon...that "pork on pork" action gets me every time.

I opted to sub out my skillet potatoes side dish for some Kässpätzle.  Y'all know my love of noodle things and that I've never really met a noodle that I didn't like, and this was no exception.  It was basically spatzle with Swiss cheese...sort of a Bavarian mac and cheese, if you will.  (And, I must confess that I have owned a spaztle maker for years, and I've never actually made spatzle.  I used it to rice potatoes before I got a potato ricer.  Somewhere, Alton Brown is howling in pain from all the unitaskers that I have.)

After all this excitement, I'm home for awhile, so I should probably do a little cookery.  Or, at the very least, a little grilling...I need to burn the pollen off my grill for sure.

Saw (Part of) the USA on the A1A

However, I was in a Dodge, not a Chevy.

I freely admit that most of what I know about the eastern coast of Florida comes strictly from reading a whole lotta John D. McDonald novels--the Travis McGee series and others--along with a healthy dose of Carl Hiaasen, so, I totally expect it to be chock full of confidence men, hard-looking dames, scary one-eyed hermits, and other miscreants, with a healthy scattering of kitschy alligator wrestling establishments and water-skiing nymphos of both sexes.

I flew into Jacksonville with the grand idea of driving down to Flagler Beach (my final destination) via the A1A, but there was a pesky wildfire that seemed to be making travel hard.  So, on my way back to Jacksonville for the return trip, I planned to stop in St. Augustine for a quick tour and get there via A1A.  Alas, I was sidetracked by a wonderful New York-style deli, so I had to drive interstate to St. Augustine to make my meet-up with a co-worker.  However, I'm getting ahead of myself, so we'll slow down, put on the cruise control, and start with the beginning of the week.

My final destination out of JAX was Palm Coast, Florida, a planned community.  Palm Coast is in Flagler County, named after Henry Flagler, who was responsible for bringing development to the east coast of Florida.  He built a railroad to shuttle his rich friends down to the warmer climes from the frozen North.  Wikipedia calls him the "father of Miami," because before he built a railroad down to Miami, it was pretty much nothing.  But enough with the history...let's talk about food!

One of the best meals I had was at the Flagler Fish Company.  This place looks a lot like one of those little hole-in-the wall meccas that you read about on Roadfood.com...and amazingly enough, is not on their list of places in the Flagler Beach area. 

Flager Fish Co. is a converted dive shop run by folks who ran away from the crazy city life rat race...they might actually be some of the lucky ones who actually make it, if the quality of the dinner I had is any indication.  Everybody has a great idea for a "little ol' beach shack" restaurant, and there seem to be way more bad ideas than good.

When you walk in the door, you are greeted by a giant display case of fresh fish...this would be the fish and shellfish that they are serving today. (Note that large fish with the yellow spots lying across the back of the case...it figures prominently in the next couple of paragraphs...as dinner!!)


As you sit down, a friendly wait person takes your drink order and brings you a generous basket of homemade potato chips and a little cup of homemade clam dip. 

Aaaah, clam dip--how I love you so.  And, it seems like a 100 years since I've had clam dip.  When I was a small child, back in the dark ages known as "the 70s," I always thought clam dip was such an "elegant" treat--way more sophisticated that the French onion dip, even with French in the name.  Kraft Clam Dip and Ruffles ('cause they have ridges, and ridges = fancy!) was the very height of sophistication in my little pea brain.  I know, I've come a loooooooong way, baby...at least I hope so.

I still have a special place in my heart for clam dip, and a special place in my stomach as well.  I would have cheerfully made a meal off of the chips and dip and not even ordered more food.  In fact, when my friendly waitperson asked if I wanted more clam dip, the hopeful look on my face made her laugh.  It's the little thing, people, the little things.

For dinner, I opted for one of the fresh catches of the day, the golden tile fish.  Having actually paid attention during my wanderings at the Monterey Bay Aquarium in December, I knew that it was on the list of sustainable fish, and the Flagler Fish Company seems to adhere to the sustainability rules.

Golden tile fish is a firm white fish that the wait person described as being "between grouper and snapper."  Sounds good to me!  I had it seared on the flattop grill, with a couple of dipping sauces--a Thai coconut and a brown butter lemon caper.  I know, the flavors are pretty disparate, but I couldn't decide if I was in a sweet or buttery mood.  Buttery won out over all, but both sauces were tasty.

The side options were pretty amazing, too.  A cold Portabella, Tomato, Asparagus Salad in balsamic vinaigrette  was my healthy, virtuous choice.  The Asiago Potatoes were the blissful indulgence, ranking right up there with the clam dip!  You can actually get the recipe from Epicurious, and I'm trying to figure out if I want to make them for people, or eat them all myself.

When my plate arrived, I was slightly disappointed that there were only 2 potatoes, since the menu and the waitperson had really talked about how wonderful they were...and then, I ate a bite.  Two is plenty...trust me.  These are the richest tasting potatoes, which is something that I don't usually shy away from.  Folks say, "ooh, that's too rich for me," and I have no idea what they mean.  Too rich?  That's kind of like saying "that's too cheesy."  When someone says it's too cheesy, it sounds like the parents on Peanuts, "whaaaa waaa whaa waah."

So, two was plenty and rounded out the meal nicely.  The fish was perfectly cooked--not dry, moist, and a little flaky.  I was extremely pleased with my dining experience.

On my last day in Florida, I drove back through St. Augustine and met up with a co-worker who lives in the area.  We decided to take the trolley tour of Old St. Augustine and have lunch in the area. Our first trolley driver was absolutely hilarious--the amount of syllables he could string along when saying 'Juan Ponce de Leon," was amazing.  (My Southern drawl is pretty directly related to the amount of liquor I have consumed--the more I have, the more syllables you get.  Tequila can give you bonus syllables if you listen closely.)

We took the recommendation of our trolley ticket sales person and had lunch at the St. Augustine outpost of the Columbia restaurant.  The Columbia bills itself as the "oldest Spanish restaurant" in Florida, and it was damned good.  I opted for the El Combo de Cuba , which is described as "A Cuban feast of Roast Pork, Boliche, platanos, Empanada de Picadillo, black beans and yellow rice."  They had me at "feast."

I do have a great fondness for combo plates...it's especially helpful when eating food from cultures not your own.  Although, I always am on the horns of a dilemma at new barbecue places, because I always want to try the pork and either the beef or chicken or some other tasty smoked goodness.  I think it's because this is usually my one and only shot at the place, and it's quite likely that I'll never pass that way again.

Isn't it beee-yoo-ti-ful?  Clockwise, from the top:  the empanada, pork roast with gravy, maduros (sweet plaintains) on yellow rice and black beans, and the boliche.  Note that red circle in the boliche, the one that makes it look like Jupiter?  That, my chickens, is chorizo. You make a tunnel in the beef and shove a stick of chorizo in, then roast it in the oven.  Who doesn't like meat in meat?  (You could wrap the whole thing in bacon just to kick it up a notch.)

It was almost more excitement than the taste buds could stand. 

So, that's what I've been up to lately.  And, since the long nuclear winter seems to be over here in the South, it's time to rip the cover off the grill and see what yummy stuff can be conjured up there...before everything acquires that fine yellow pollen coating, and you are afraid to go outside and stand still for very long, because you too could acquire a fine yellow pollen glaze.   But, hey--no lake effect snow!

Mile-High Club

No, not *that* Mile-High Club...what kind of blog do you think this is?  I just meant that I had finally visited Denver.

I've been to the lovely state of Colorado before, but never to Denver, and I would love to go back soonest.  I could seriously picture me and the poodles living in Denver.  Especially with the heatwave that we've been experiencing lately.  On my way back from Denver, there was a layover in Memphis, and I, along with my fellow passengers, made audible noises about the force of the heat and humidity as we stepped out of the plane and into the jetway.  It was like a physical slap in the face with a hot, wet towel.  Ugh to the nth degree.

The cool thing about this trip was having friends in the area to meet up with and share some fun and cool dining experiences. I met up with a former co-worker, LD, when I got off the plane, and we went to a lovely little French place in downtown Denver (LoDo area) and had  a fantastic meal.  There was a little "incident" that made the dining experience a little less than optimal, but the food was fab;.  We went to Bistro Vendome, and ate "bad things," which means things that tasted extremely good but were not on my 400-calorie per meal allowance...more on that later.

We started with mussels in garlic/wine/butter and Rillette de Canard with a rhubarb-black currant marmalade.  How can you go wrong with mussels in a wine and butter broth? You can't, unless you ask for a second loaf of bread to try and soak up all that garlicky goodness, which might negatively impact how much of your entree you can eat, and you might as well forget about dessert.

The  rillette is a sort of  a rough, rustic paté...without the liver.  Meat (could be duck, could be pork, etc.) is cooked in fat until very tender, then shredded and mixed with seasonings and packed down into jars or ramekins and sealed with a little layer of the fat.  The rillette came in a little glass jar with the requisite layer of creamy white duck fat on top.  You mix in the fat (I know!! How decadent is that?! Mixing actual fat into your food ON PURPOSE!) with the meat, and then spread it on toast.   And, no I totally forgot to take a picture, dammit!  You can go here, which I found by Googling "rillette" and check out the picture for an idea of how it looked, and the blog, which I plan to go back to and read more of, because it's very interesting.

I'm back...got sidetracked by her post on Porchetta...almost shorted out the laptop by drooling.

On to the rest of the French meal...we both got Steak Frites, and I opted for the classic Béarnaise (hello, steak and butter!), and LD went for the Roquefort in a port reduction option.  I had some of her Roquefort, and I think we both found it a bit pungent.  Don't get me wrong, because I love all the bleu cheeses, but I think I would have rather had that particular one with some apple slices, bread, and a big glass of wine.

Steak Frites (steak with fries) is more of a Belgian dish, but who cares what the actual entymology of the dish is...it's steak and potatoes, which we Americans seem to claim as one of our national signature meals, too.  The steak was perfectly medium-rare, the fries were skinny, crispy, and coated in a sweetish glaze...it's hard to describe...maybe it was a sherry vinegar?  The thing with the frites is that they should be fried twice to get crispy.  Fries are one of those sides that I can take or leave for the most part, but I think I ate every single one of these.

Unfortunately, that extra loaf of bread that I mentioned earlier caught up with me, and I was unable to do more than glance at the dessert menu...hate that.  Plus, the "incident" was a little off putting...at a table near us, a couple with a small toddler-age child was dining, and about halfway through our meal, the child tossed his cookies...not something you want to see or hear while having a great meal...or any meal, for that matter.  It seemed to take forever for this to get cleared away, because the parents were in no hurry to leave, so the staff could hose down the area (we were sitting out on the patio).  That was highly annoying...hello clueless people, your child just upchucked all over the place much to the chagrin of other diners and you are continuing to talk to each other and ineffectually dab at him with a napkin.  What is wrong with you?  Pick him up and hightail it out of there and leave a good tip for the folks who have to clean up after you.  We just averted our eyes as best we could and plowed gamely on.

The next night, I was on my own and went with recommendation from one of the library staff for Lola, which bills itself as "coastal Mexican," and "one of the top 5 places to drink tequila in America, according to Food & Wine Magazine," and who am I to argue?  Monday nights are all-night happy hour, with a special appetizer menu and reduced drink prices.

I decided to have a draft Dos Equis--I really wish it had been the Dos Equis Amber, which I consider to be *the* perfect food beer--and build myself a little tapas-style dinner from the happy hour apps.   I had a little fried fish taco that had a nice crunch (soggy is bad!), along with homemade pork rinds, and pork gorditas.  The homemade pork rinds were sprinkled with cojita cheese and lime zest and served with Lola's signature sauce Muñoz, which has chile de arbol, tomatoes, and onions, and packs a nice little kick.  That sauce can be downright addictive.

The star of my little platter was without a doubt the pork gorditas--little open-faced pork tacos with fried onions, habanero, tomato, and cojita cheese.  The cojita used in these dishes is the creamy version, and it was a lot like a chevre with its tangy flavor.  Those 3 little bites of pork heaven were a-to the-mazing.  I seriously thought about ordering a dozen to go and taking them back to ye olde Hampton Inn and eat myself into a little foodie coma. 

However, I resisted and opted to have a slice of Chocolate Chipolte Caramel Cake...a devil's food cake layered with dulce de leche and chocolate mousse, served with sea salt caramel ice cream and pepita (pumpkin seed) brittle.  I wanted a little more of the chipolte heat in the cake--love the chocolate and the heat--but all was forgiven/put out of my mind by that salted caramel ice cream. It was the perfect combination of sweet, cold, and salty.

Tuesday night, I had plans with TC, who I had not seen in a bazillion years, and was looking forward to catching up in a big way.  I talked up Lola from the night before, and he thought it sounded pretty good for dinner, so we went back.  Tuesday night was a 4-course tasting menu with or without wine or tequila (we went with the wine).

First course was a little ahi tuna tartar in a gazpacho sauce, which was nice, but not anything to really write home or blog about.  Then, the second course of habanero barbecue pork rib appeared, and it ranked right up there with the previous night's gorditas.  I was very tempted to say "bring me the rest of the rack...matter of fact, bring me ALL the racks, bwhaaahaaahaa!"  Succulent, tender, with just the right amount of heat...and I'm not normally a rib aficionado, but these were awesome.

For the third course, you had a choice between escolar, a firm white fish, carne asada, or steelhead trout.  I chose the escolar, and T chose the carne asada.  The blackened escolar was very tasty and served with a jalapeno coleslaw.  Since I had never heard of this fish before, I Googled it, and this article on Wikipedia is most interesting...and slightly makes me not want to order it again, especially since the state of Hawaii is thinking about banning it.  Although, it might be the perfect portion control diet food--you overindulge with this one and have food poisoning symptoms, you probably won't do it again!  No worries with this meal, though.

We finished up the meal with a peach shaved ice topped with a mango-strawberry salsa, which was just light enough that we felt obligated to find another recommendation called the Red Trolley and have some ice cream.   A scoop of Dark Chocolate Covered Salted Caramel ice cream for me, and a bite of TC's Graham Cracker ice cream put paid to a wonderful evening.

I met back up with LD for my last night in Denver, and we dined at Domo, a country Japanese restaurant.  When the words "country Japanese" came out of LD's mouth, I got a mental image of octopus on cornbread, then started wondering if pinto beans go with sake, and had a hard time shaking all that from my brain. 

Domo is an odd place...it's sort of on the edge of an industrialized area and boasts a museum and garden, along with a dojo.  The "country" part comes into play with the side dishes they serve.  We got 7 little dishes of things like a wonderful eggplant and tofu combination, a pork stew, and potato salad...a pretty darn good potato salad, which is not something that I normally associate with Japanese food.  (I know, you think I've lost my mind because I used "wonderful" as an adjective for tofu, but it really was very tasty.)

Dining outside in July is amazing to me, considering at home, we are like little lizards running from one air conditioned building to the next and trying not to move any more than we have to or break out into any form of perspiration. This year, it's like we jumped directly from spring into the depths of August heat at the beginning of June.

"Moo-ternal" love

Denver is also chock-a-block full of public art installations.  My customer liaison told me that companies are required to spend 1% of their new construction budget on public art, so there's lots o' interesting things to look at in the downtown area.  Here are a few of my faves:

The broom and dustpan are outside of the newer part of the Denver Museum of Art

I have no idea what this red thing is, but it's pretty cool.
It looks like it might transform into something else at a moment's notice

I'll be back in Denver in February, when the customer goes live, and I'm thinking that Mother Nature will probably prepare a nice little welcome for me in the form of 10 feet of snow.  Which, in this crazy 98-degree, heat index of 106, and my stupid AC decides to go out AGAIN--3rd time this summer!, is sounding pretty darn enticing. 

That Travelin' Life

SinceI was home for awhile, I thought I would be able to actually cook and blog and dust. And, I thought I would write about traveling. (I think this is my lame attempt at irony.) As you can see, I might have dusted...possibly...maybe.

So, anyway, I thought I might throw my .02 worth out there about my travel experiences. Luckily, I seem to have fairly good flying experiences, and interactions with airline employees. I think the key is following that old "Golden Rule" about treating other people as you want to be treated. I have watched many a gate agent be screamed at by people who should know better, because contrary to popular belief, gate agents DO NOT control the weather...Pudge does. I think it might be rather entertaining to watch a gate agent scream back. Probably lose their job, but I bet it would feel good for the moment.

I spend a lot of time in airports...lots and lots...and while people generally bitch about hanging out in airports, I really don't mind it. It's the one place where I actually don't have to be doing anything other than waiting for a plane. (Yes, if I had an aircard, I could work, but no one has given me one of those yet, even though I asked, so I'm just going to think of the time I spend in airports as extended coffee breaks! Although, it is interesting that the smaller airports have free wi-fi...and if I can find free wi-fi, I will check email and do work stuff. I are a good employee that way.)

Since I spend a lot of time in airports, I'm always up for finding things to amuse me or good to eat during layovers. Yes, I could read, which I often do, but because I'm a bit of a speed reader, heaven forbid that I run out of reading material in flight, and I can only carry so many books with me at a time. The people watching in airports is usually pretty choice, but after you've seen one whacked out outfit too many, you just have to walk around and take a break.

And while all the inflight magazines wax poetic about lots cool things to do that are "just a cab ride away," seriously--who really wants to or has time to lug all their crap out to the front, possibly be delayed getting back, and then go back through security. I can imagine doing this if I had a layover of 4 or more hours, but not for anything less. Knock on Formica that I haven't had a loooong layover in quite some time...but it is a new year after all.

So, I look for things to do...sometimes, I get lucky and the airport itself provides something, whether it be an art exhibit or unusual shopping/dining. Mostly, I'm flying domestic, with quick turnarounds, because I'm not going to the most glamorous of places. Here's a few highlights from my trips:

In the Jackson-Evers Airport, Jackson, MS, there is a fish tank in the East
Concourse (I think) gift shop that houses some young channel catfish, a product for which Mississippi is famous. The restaurant just down from the gift shop serves a mean bacon and egg breakfast quesadilla. How often do you see fish in an airport that isn't in a bun?

More and more airports have art installations--the Atlanta-Hartsfield-Jackson Airport has a great permanent exhibit of African stone carvers in the walkway from Concourse T (Terminal) to Concourse A. If I fly out of ATL from Concourse A, I always walk from T to A. Sometimes, I ride the moving sidewalk (staying to the right, of course) and pretend I'm in an episode of The Jetsons, and I'm in a museum with George and the rest of the Jetson family. (When you travel as much as I do, sometimes you get a little jet fuel fume crazy!) There's music along with photographs that describe the stone carvers work and show scenes of African wildlife.

Provided I'm not running to make a connection, I also like to ride the moving sidewalk in Detroit Metro through the Northwest World Gateway tunnel between the terminals. The walls have a neat light show in time with music, and it feels rather futuristic...and Jetson-like.

Detroit also has a Mediterranean place near Gate A-54...it's actually called "Mediterranean Grill," and you can get falafel, hummus, and kebobs in a sit-down place.

If I'm stuck in the ATL during breakfast, I use that as an excuse to eat Popeye's. It's soooo bad for you, but sooooo good. The 3-piece chicken tenders, spicy of course, and a small red beans-n-rice IS the Breakfast of Champions. Although, I have sworn that I will lay off that little treat and try to eat better in the airport. There's a new sushi bar in Concourse E that I need to check out.

(It is rather interesting to see what chain places that don't normally serve breakfast come up with for the airport concession. The ATL Popeye's is slinging grits, gravy, and biscuits, as well as most of the regular menu. The Asian places sometimes have bacon and eggs, but usually they are whipping out General Tso's chicken and lo mein...and yeah, I've had airport lo mein for breakfast before...I've never been locked into having "breakfast food" for breakfast.)

Memphis has Lenny's Subshop in Terminal B, which has a lovely Italian cold cuts sandwich and makes a mean Philly cheesesteak...ask for some of the hot pepper relish. (You might possibly have a Lenny's near you...about 4 months or so ago, I finally paid attention to all the little shops in the Staples shopping center, where I go to make copies of my expense report receipts, and found one there...a closer source of the hot pepper goodness is a good thing!) And, you must not forget the Elvis memorabilia either...lots and lots of Elvis stuff to be had. There's a nice Asian and Judaic art exhibit near the Delta Crown Club Room, as well as various other exhibits of local artists throughout the concourse.

At the Dallas-Ft. Worth airport, you can get some mighty good brisket at Cousin's, and also in Austin at Salt Lick.

I still haven't found anything decent to eat in Chicago's O'Hare...I had a rough case of food poisoning from an O'Hare chain sports bar hamburger several years ago (yes, Fox Sports Bar, I am talking to you), and I'm still wary of eating there. Am open to suggestions if anyone has any.

In Midway (O'Hare's quieter, neater, shinier little sister), you can grab a sandwich at a Harry Caray's outpost. It's basic pub food, but not too bad. I had a fun meal there when the hostess offered to seat me and 2 other "singles" together...it was either that or wait for another 40 minutes...that was a no brainer. The guy with the biggest expense account bought a round of drinks, and we were instant friends. There's also a quickie Tex-Mex grill in the Midway Boulevard food court that is pretty good, too.

The Wasatch Brew Pub in the Salt Lake City airport was a most welcome surprise...bar food, and most importantly, beer on tap! in a place where I didn't expect to find beer, because, well, you know.

Portland International has a small Powell's Books, which is nice...I can always kill time in a bookstore. And, I got a hotdog for breakfast at Good Dog/Bad Dog.

Ontario, California is a nice option instead of flying into LAX, and they have a terminal and a Boeing 747 cockpit mockup where production companies can film scenes for movies. John Wayne Airport in Santa Ana, is also a good option to alleviate the craziness that can be LAX...plus it is closer to Disney Land...and has a huge bronze statue of the Duke. LAX does have an In and Out burger close by, which you can take a parking shuttle to and walk across a parking lot to get some of that yummy goodness. (I have not actually tried this; I overheard some guys telling other guys in the waiting area where they got their In and Out cups. Why there's not one in LAX proper, I have no idea. Seems like it would be license to print money.)

The thing I really hate about Toronto is the lack of a Tim Horton's after you go through Customs.
There's no less than 5 Tim Horton's at Pearson, but as of October 2008, there wasn't one past Customs...or at least not where I was herded. (If anyone knows where one is hiding, let me know!)

There's a place called "Toast," which is Tim's aunt's younger sister's cousin thrice removed or something like that...it's really just a Starbuck's clone. Ottawa, on the other hand, has a Tim's right in the Transborder Hold Room, i.e. international departure waiting area, where you can grab a big ol' coffee, a donut, and stock up on bagged coffee. Thank you, Ottawa!

You can eat crabcakes at Phillips in Charlotte, which were good...a bit overpriced, but that's the airport for you. Airports are a lot like movie theaters in that you pretty much have to buy the food in them, because you really don't have any other options. Charlotte also has art installations throughout the airport, and shopping.

Reagan International in DC now has a 5 Guys Burgers and Fries! Do not be tempted to get the large fries, unless there are at least 4 people in your party...4 tater-lovin' individuals--because the fries are a generous portion.

In Syracuse-Hancock International, there is a play area that is a mock-up of the airport. You can sit inside a fake cockpit, see how baggage is handled, etc. It's pretty cool and seems to always be in use.

And, the airport that I used to hate the most, Cincinnati, has now become one of my more favored ones...the reason I used to hate it was that the Delta terminal seemed to be the red-headed stepchild terminal...sort of like an afterthought, a place that no one really wanted to think about. There were virtually no amenities after you rode the bus across the runways...which is always a bit scary...except for vending machines, and the chairs just sucked. Now, that terminal has restaurants, shopping, and is much nicer to wait out the layover in. The main Cincy terminal has a ton of shopping and all sorts of food options--chili, of course, and a Wolfgang Puck Express...the pizzas are very nice.

The airport that I do hate the most is George Bush Intercontinental in Houston. It takes for bloomin' ever to get to the terminal once you touch down...you feel like you could have driven to Texas in the amount of time it takes you to get there. And the traffic trying to get in and out of Bush is horrendous. Given my druthers, I fly in and out of Hobby, where I can hit a Pappadeaux or Pappasito's Cantina. Chain, yes...but Houston-based chain, so the food is generally better. I will say that the one shining light at George Bush was the Shipley's Donuts...the cinnamon sugar ones are pretty good...although you can be bit sticky for the flight home.

Another tip for Bush is that if you are meeting a co-worker, check your voicemail BEFORE you leave the terminal and pass the point of no return with security. If you find out that he is going to get in 3 hours later than originally planned, there is NOTHING to do or really to eat outside the concourse area. Trust me on this one. The only interesting thing to do is take the shuttle to International Arrivals terminal and see people greet their loved ones...the signs they wave around are entertaining. You can see some lovely places to eat on the other side of security, but they are verboten to you, who has already flown.

I won't even talk about Newark or JFK, and I've been to dozens of other airports that I can't really remember anything about at the moment, so I'll just call it a post now and be done with it.

As the year progress and I travel more, I'll keep you updated on any new finds of the aeronautical flavor. Ironically, my first trip this decade ( I know--where the hell did all of 2009 go?) is a driving one, though. Back to the wilds of Kentucky...more barbecue! How could that be a bad thing?

Miami Nice

"Party in the city where the heat is on
All night on the beach till the break of dawn
Welcome to Miami
Buenvenidos a Miami"
(Will Smith--"Miami")

I know--2 posts in a month! Hold your collectives selves back!

Spent the last week in the sauna known as Miami...seriously, we bitch about the heat here in the South, but Miami takes it to a whole new level. On Friday morning, at 5:45 a.m., as we leave for the airport, it was like walking into a sauna. I fully expected some fat balding dudes in gold chains and towels to be sitting in the parking lot of the Coconut Grove Hampton Inn, ladling water on rocks to create more steam and humidity.

I was all psyched to see beautiful people and the CSI Miami crime lab...which we know is not really in Miami, but one can always hope...there's way too much parking for it to be in Miami. According to Wikipedia, it's actually the Federal Aviation Administration Federal Credit Union headquarters in Long Beach, CA. I practiced my "Horatio Caine Stare of Justice (tm)" and standing around with my hands on my hips, looking pensive.

Of course, I was there for work, so no hanging out on SoBe, but we did a drive-by of the area and looked at the cool Art Deco historic district. Walked on the beach for a few minutes, and then hopped back in the car as fast as we could, because it was too darn hot!

Y'all know that I usually try to avoid chain restaurants if at all possible, but sometimes, the first night you are in a place, you just go for the familiar. We had dinner at the Cheesecake Factory, they of the 1,000-page menu, and did opt for dessert, because they had Red Velvet Cheesecake. And, since there is a donation to the national foodbank network for each slice sold, I felt that I had to do my part. And, I thought it was pretty awesome...how could it not be? Layers of red velvet cake alternating with layers of cheesecake and covered with cream cheese frosting? (No lectures on the obesity of America, please! I'm not eating it every day...although, I am glad that there's not a CF anywhere in my vicinity. Temptation, thy name is Velvet, Red Velvet!)

And, when thou art in Miami, thou must partake of Cuban food. Sometimes, when I travel with other co-workers, I'm not sure if s/he will want to be adventurous...so far, I haven't had anyone keel over from eating in a strange place, but I guess there is always the first time. But, I think Cuban is a safe bet--it's rice, beans, pork...all familiar foods, and sooooo delicioso!

We ate lunch at a place in downtown Miami, El Cacique Lunch Restaurant Cafe. It was like a diner/coffee shop, with some daily specials and a regular menu of sandwiches, salads, and entrees. We ate there twice, because it was convenient and most tasty. I had a wonderful roast pork with moros y cristianos (black beans and rice mixed together) and a couple of large hunks of yucca. Normally, I shy away from yucca, because it tastes like library paste to me...not that I really know what library paste tastes like, but it's how I imagine it to be...never understood that paste eating thing. Why would you eat that stuff? There was a kid in my kindergarten that could not get enough of that stuff, and he had to be watched every time we used it for arts and crafts time.

This time, I add a liberal sprinkling of salt and pepper, and it was really like eating a boiled potato. The next day for lunch, one of the specials was stewed oxtails with rice, black beans, and maduros, which are caramelize sweet plantains. (Tostones are the savory version of plantains; use greener plantains, slice, smash, and pan fry, then sprinkle with a little salt.)

Moros y cristianos is a popular dish in many Latin American cuisines...it refers to the black Muslims (black beans) and white (rice) Christians who lived in Spain, side-by-side on the Iberian Pennisula...probably before Columbus discovered America...before the Inquisition...according to the Internets. There's other versions with rice and pink or red beans, or pigeon peas, usually called congri, which may have its roots in Haiti.

Most of the Cuban places that I saw were like El Cacique, and they had walk-up windows for coffee and sandwiches. There were usually several folks hanging around the window area, chatting, smoking cigarettes, and drinking cafe con leche (coffee with milk). I was getting rather fond of my afternoon cafe con leche with evaporated milk by the time we left.

A business trip to Miami is not the way to spend time there, especially not in August. I would dearly love to go back in say, February, when it's kind of cold and rainy, and explore more of the area. We did drive down Calle Ocho (8th Street), which is the heart of Little Havana, but we didn't have time to do any real exploration.

However, we did get a little up close and personal Miami Vice action when we were walking to lunch on the 3rd day of the visit...went to an Italian place that was very good. There were 6 of us standing on the corner, waiting for the light to change so we could cross the street. A guy on a bike, with a girl walking beside him, rides up to the corner and starts to cross the street. This was a one-way street, and a car just slides over the curb in front of us, another pulls up crossway in the crosswalk and sort of blocks the guy, and several powerful looking guys in T-shirts with "Gang Unit" across the back hop out of the cars and "assist" the bicycle guy across the street, patting him down as the moved him. It was very slick and quick, with a minimum of fuss. We were all in a bit of shock about what just happened, but that's how they roll in Miami...when pedestrians are not walking out in front of your car at random places on the street...but that's a whole 'nother story.

While I was living it up in Miami, The Man took the Fat Dog to the vet for a dental cleaning. While the vet was prepping him for the procedure, because you have to knock them out to do this, he found a mass in the Fat Dog's mouth. It was "about the size of a cocktail meatball," according to The Man, which means I will never be able to eat another cocktail meatball, and the doctor thinks that he got it all. He sent it off to a pathologist, and we should know more about it this coming week. X-rays and bloodwork were performed to see if anything was unusual and possibly spread into other poodle nooks and crannies, and those tests all came back okay. Pound for pound, the Fat Dog has now become the Most Expensive Poodle on the Planet...or at least in my neighborhood.

Oh, and in smoker news, I am continuing my experimentation. (For the record, The Man's experimentation was last weekend, while I was at brunch with some former co-workers. He had read something somewhere about smoking hotdogs and had been itching to try it. He put some brats and some hot dogs on while I was gone. The brats were okay, but the hotdogs had the consistency of Slim Jims...dried out old Reagan-era Slim Jims...I believe they were on a little too long.) (Oh, and that link to the Slim Jim website has music and some whack-a-doo graphics...really strange stuff. And, please do not try to figure out what exactly goes into a Slim Jim. If you ate them in your larval youth stage, before you knew better than to eat stuff like that, you may not ever want to eat again...just my .02)

This weekend, I smoked some pork ribs and some chicken pieces. Used the hickory chips again, and for the liquid, I used a 2-liter of Publix black cherry soda and some water. (The smoker recipe booklet mentioned using orange soda, so why not black cherry?) I rubbed the chicken pieces with the Israeli Spice Rub that I mentioned in my last post, because I really like that on chicken. I rubbed the ribs with this rub, which was on a sticky note on my fridge and I more than likely got it from the Internet, but I can't find the source, so please forgive me, anonymous Dave out there.

Dave's Rub

2 Tbs chili powder
1 Tbs dried oregano
1 Tbs sweet paprika
2 tsp garlic powder
4-5 pinches of salt
15 grinds of black pepper

I oiled up the chicken pieces and put the Israeli rub on, and then just rubbed the Dave's Rub on the ribs. The chicken turned out really well--moist and delicious, with a hint of cherry. The ribs were a little dry, so I think I may have to experiment with marinating pork. The chicken pieces were bone-in and skin-on, so that helped keep them moist and tasty. I think the ribs just needed a little something extra--be it marinade or a wet glaze on them before smoking. The Man mentioned brining the pork to see how that would work, and that sounds intriguing. Maybe, I could use apple juice in the water pan to bring out the apple left from brining in cider vinegar. Hmm...this bears a little more forensic investigation...let me get my sunglasses!


UPDATE: This morning (8/31), we heard back from the veterinarian about the pathology report. The tumor from the Fat Dog's mouth is a malignant melanoma. Not exactly what you want to hear early in the morning, or at any time for that matter. The vet thinks that he got it all, but laid out the facts that it could re-occur, and that it could spread to other parts of the body. He did do the X-rays to check for spread, and those came back negative at the moment. I guess the "good" news is that it could reform in the same place, so we might have a fighting chance to see it and remove it. We talked other options of chemo and radiation, but given the Fat Dog's guestimated age ( which could be anywhere from 10 to 15) and how devastating the possible cure can be on a system, we're going to opt for the "wait and see if it comes back" approach. Cross your paws that we got it all this time...

Hangin' Out in Butcher Holler

Last week was pretty interesting in that "be glad you have what you have, because there are folks who are way worse off than you" sort of way. I had a trip to hills of Eastern Kentucky...you know, that place that Diane Sawyer went a few weeks ago on 20/20?

I was about 65 miles from the area that she visited, and it felt like 65,000,000 miles away from where I live and the lifestyle I have. The natural beauty of the forest and hills was amazing, but what was equally amazing was the way people lived in this area. You can watch the 20/20 thing and know that the film makers did not intentionally pick the people with the most sensational story; they picked real people.

It took me 2.5 hours to get from Lexington to my destination, and the last hour was spent pretty much without 2 straight feet of road in a row...reminded me a lot of the Big Thunder Mountain ride at Disney World.

I arrive in Prestonsburg, Kentucky and get checked into the Comfort Inn and Suites. I realize that I am almost out of contact solution, so I decide to look for a Wal-Mart or K-Mart that would have travel sizes. (This whole 3-1-1 travel regulation has been a whole cottage industry to travel size suppliers! And you would be amazed at what I can pack into a 1-quart plastic bag.)

I dig out Jane, my trusty GPS and look for shopping centers, Wal-Marts, etc. The one problem with Jane is that she is very literal. I asked her for Wal-Marts, she popped a Wal-Mart SuperCenter option first, which was about 13 miles away....not bothering to mention the regular ol' Wal-Mart that was 2 miles from the hotel. Which, in my own defense, I could not see existed, because it was BEHIND A MOUNTAIN.

So, I take off to Paintsville on Route 321. A few miles down the road, I see a little green highway sign that says "Loretta Lynn Home Place 3.75 miles" and an arrow pointing right. Holy Flaky Crisco Pie Crust, Batman! I'm near Butcher Holler! And then, I promptly got the first 2 lines of "Coal Miner's Daughter" stuck in my head, and there was nothing else to do but turn right and head for Van Lear, KY and my date with destiny.

3.75 miles on winding, curving, backwoods eastern Kentucky roads is an experience...and it seems like it is much longer than 3+ miles. I twist, I turn, and every time when I am about to give up, I see another one of those green state road signs proclaiming the way to Loretta Lynn's house.

I finally run out of signs and am, by now, so far in the backwoods that Deliverance jokes aren't funny any more. I pop out sort of at a wide spot in the road with a little grocery store (Webb's Stop-n-Shop) and another sign, this one is handpainted. It tells me that I can go into Webb's and find Loretta's brother, Herman, and he'll give me a tour for $5. I think about this for a minute...and realize that the sun is starting to dip at an alarming rate, so if I'm going to do this, I'd better get cracking and save Herman for another time.

I go about 500 more feet and the road become some weird pockmarked combination of dirt and gravel. I'm picking my way along and I catch movement out of the left side of the car. I stop the car and look over at the hillside, where I see some whitish shapes moving in the brush. Goats? cows? Nope, it's hogs. Hogs?  Yes, hogs as big as my VW.

Now, I am not unfamiliar with farming and livestock. I spent many a weekend and summer vacation with relatives in Alabama who had a hobby farm of sorts. I've milked a cow, slopped hogs, actually picked a bush worth's of cotton, toted watermelons, and picked up more potatoes, both red and sweet, that I ever want to think about ever again. And, I've seen some mighty big pigs in my life, but never anything to rival these bruisers. Plus, it didn't look like there was any sort of fence of substance between me and them, so I decided to move along and get a picture on the way back.

So, I continue down the "road" for another quarter of a mile or so, and I see a rock painted with "Butcher Holler." Good to have some reassurance that I still on the path. I turned left onto another dirt road that kept getting progressively narrower. Another quarter mile or so (you do realize that I am just guestimating the mileage, don't you? Because, I really suck at judging distances.)

I finally see a big iron cattle gate and a sign that welcomes me to "Johnson County, Home of the Coal Miner's Daughter from Butcher Hollow, Loretta Lynn." And, there's another little sign tacked onto the bottom that reminds us that this is also "the Birthplace of Crystal Gayle." Yeah, Loretta is more famous, but it's not like Crystal wasn't wildly successful herself..18 number 1 country hits is nothing to sneeze at, no matter what hollow or "holler" was your birthplace (and according to Wikipedia, Loretta only has 16 country number 1s). It just seemed like Crystal Gayle was getting the short shrift here, but Loretta is older and more famous.

As I am paused on the side of the "road," reading the signs, I notice that there are a couple of skinny pit bullish looking dogs hanging around...and as I look closer, I see a couple more equally hungry looking pit bullish looking dogs join their friends. This is not looking good, I think...they all look capable of gnawing off a tire or two and leaving me stranded here in the backwoods where no one will hear me scream.

I ease down the one lane path to get even with the house and snap a couple of pictures. The house sits back in a clearing and looks pretty rustic...8 kids, no electricity, no running water, and no indoor bathroom...rustic, very rustic.

There's 6 dogs now, and I think it might be time to bid Butcher Holler adieu...only there's no place to really turn around, and the cow path that serves as a road seems to only go up into the hills. I manage to find a wider place in the road and execute a perfect 32-point turn to get turned around, managing to not hit a dog or fall off the enbankment.

Amazingly enough, Jane the GPS actually knew where Butcher Holler was...which I found to be hilarious, since the TomTom brand of GPS is UK-based.

Of course, those giant steroidal hogs were gone by the time I got back to that part of the dirt road.

Culinary pickings were kind of lean in the area, but we did go to lunch at a local favorite called Dairy Cheer, where I got a chili dog and deep-fried banana peppers, AND a soft-serve chocolate-vanilla twist cone. So much for that little game of "let's pick the healthiest thing on the menu this week while traveling so you can still fit into your business travel clothes."

Messing (Around) with Texas

On my way to Northwest Texas this past week, I read a fun little memoir of sorts about Chinese food in America. The Fortune Cookie Chronicles tracks an American-Chinese woman's search for the roots of Americanized Chinese cuisine. It was pretty fascinating--you probably know that fortune cookies aren't really Chinese, but did you know that they are probably Japanese in origin? And, that the soy sauce in those little packets you get with the carryout Chinese dinner aren't really soy sauce, but more like colored salty water? And yes, Virginia, there really was a General Tso, but that ain't *his* chicken.

I love reading about food--research, memoirs, etc.--but the downside is that I get totally consumed by wanting and craving that food. A few years ago, on a trip to California, I picked up Candy Freak by Steve Almond. It's a funny read, but I was dying for candy bars for days afterward, and some of those candy bars didn't even exist any more.

Being as I was in a smallish town in Texas, about 45 minutes from Fort Worth, which is more of a meat and potatoes kind of place, I wasn't sure if I could satisfy my craving for Chinese without going to a giant buffet. Luckily, there was a local place that wasn't too bad--had both Thai and Chinese--so I could calm the beast that was my appetite.

Unfortunately on this trip, I did not make it to any barbecue joints. Ate a lot of Tex-Mex stuff that was pretty good...tried a new dish for me called "migas." Migas are usually a breakfast food in Texas, and this place serves egg dishes all day. The migas consisted of scrambled eggs mixed with corn tortilla strips, roasted chicken, peppers, onions, and tomatoes, and served with refried beans, rice, and tortillas. Pretty fine stuff.

In my driving around town, I noticed that there were a blue million donut shops...it seemed that there was one on every corner, sometimes two. I've seen this in other Texas towns, and just have to conclude that Texans love donuts...a whole whole lot...over a 1000 hits on Google when iI looked up "donut shops in (Texas town)." And, they weren't national chain places either. Alas, no Tim Hortons....sigh.

The last night I was there, I hit the fine dining spot in town, where I had truly wonderful meal. It was located in the downtown area, and according to the owner, was a brothel about a 100 years ago...gotta love the repurposing of old buildings. I started with an appetizer of grilled jalapenos wrapped in bacon that had been stuffed with chipolte cream cheese and shrimp. I made it through 3 of the 4 peppers before I had to cry "Uncle," if I wanted to have any tastebuds left for the main course. My entree was a lovely pan-fried rainbow trout encrusted with locally grown pecans. I'm not usually a freshwater fish eater, but the local pecan thing in the description piqued my curiousity. It was piping hot and encrusted with a generous coating of pecans, with a little butter sauce on the side. Very nice.

I also got a real idea of the actual size of a Texas ranch, as we drove to some of the libraries...there's a reason for that old saw about everything being "bigger in Texas." And, I saw a longhorn cow. Yep, just one. Lots of horses, though. This area is the cutting horse capital, and lots of champion horses come from here. Also, every single time I go to Texas, I am wholly overwhelmed with the desire to get boots and something with fringe. I managed to stamp down my inner cowgirl and leave without anything, but it was from the lack of her trying...coupled with my unwillingness to pay $1700 for a pair of Lucchese boots that screamed my name as I left the store. It was hard to leave them, I tell you...hard.

As I write this post, I am halfway paying attention to a show that is new to me on Food Network, called Cooking for Real. The hostess, Sunny Anderson, is making chicken wings with 3 sauces. I like chicken wings as much as the next person, and as usual, I'm kind of persnickety about my wings. So, I'm listening with half an ear as she is making a hot sauce, and she mentions how spicy the wings are at Hooters. My head snaps up and I really begin to pay attention to what she is saying. Anyway, she's going on about how when they brought them to the table, the smell almost singed her nose hairs (eeewww! do you really want someone who's cooking for you to talk about her nose hairs? NO!), and burbles on for a few more seconds about Hooters..

Hooters? Seriously? She was in immediate danger of losing her credibility with me. Don't think I'm going all conservative on you, because I have no problem with the concept of Hooters exploiting women--hah! It just proves that men are willing to pay for anything, including crap food served by pretty women. : ). Personally, I have plans for when I win the lottery to open my own version of Hooters called "Jewels." The decor shall be very opulent and cocmfortable, and the hosts will be incredibly good looking men who dress like Chippendale's dancers--tight tuxedo pants, no shirts--just collars and cuffs. Of course, the servers will have to wear a little more, because I'm sure there's some health department reg about shirtless food servers...maybe some tight t-shirts and bike shorts? Tight jeans and t-shirts?

What I have a problem with is the FOOD at Hooters. The couple of times I have been strong armed into eating at Hooters, the food has just been plain mediocre at best, and their wings were really bad. Honestly, how hard is it to make chicken wings? Yeah...it's wings that you can fry or bake, covered in hot sauce and served with bleu cheese dressing (never ranch!!! Hate ranch with the fury of a million suns--the most overused and abused salad dressing ever) and a celery stick or two. You can go sub-atomic if you like with the various levels of heat in your sauce, but let's face it, chicken wings are not hard to cook, but so many places get them wrong, and I could write blog posts for 6 months on the badness of wings. However, her wings do look tasty, and the Red, White & Blue Mashed Potatoes sound and look pretty awesome--bleu cheese, bacon, heavy cream, and potatoes--what more do you need?

Back to Hooters...I search on "food at Hooter's," and the first hit I get is this article on Chowhound. The author is having a little rant fest about this article in the Newport Daily Pilot that posits the idea that people actually like the food at Hooters. I kind of agree with the Chowhound author in his/her disbelief that Hooters rates a featured review. One of the comments to the Pilot critic's review sums it up best, "Anybody can review. Not everybody should. " (We could probably say that about bloggers to, and I probably fall into that category!)

Seriously, the Pilot's critic starts out by telling us that "the reason it [Hooter's] is popular is the food. For what it is, Hooters does it well." Really? Then he tells his readers that "the chicken parmesan platter is one of the better selections. It is a fried chicken breast smothered with provolone cheese and marinara sauce." (I'm betting that Stouffer's does it better in the frozen food section.)

I don't think chains are inherently wrong, or that it's a bad idea to review chain places, because sometimes I am extremely grateful that there is a chain place in a small town...at least I can get a grilled chicken salad of some sort after traveling all day and just wanting to eat and head to the hotel. And, there's chains that I really like--Claim Jumper and In & Out Burger in California, Longhorn (you get a consistenly decent steak and salad; pricey, but consistent), and Carraba's (would kill for the recipe for the herb mix they put in their olive oil for dipping bread.) to name a few.

What would have made the Pilot article better was if the "critic" had decided to review a selection of wing/sports bar places, and maybe ranked the best and worst things about each place. Surely, he could have found something a little better than Hooter's, and maybe he would have expanded his and his readers' collective minds about the local offerings.

Next week's adventures should be rather entertaining...I'll give you a hint--goats will be involved!

Eatin' on a Jet Plane...

Well, technically, it was in an airport and sort of looking at jet planes...that were really small 2- and 4-seater planes, and it was night, so I couldn't really see them that well, but I needed a good title!! (Maybe, I should subtitle with "On the Great Plains," since I was in Kansas this week.)

Airport and good food are not usually synonymous...most of the time, airport food is just chain food at twice the price. It's greasy and generally bad for you; there's the occasional kiosk of exception that has salad and fruit, but who really wants to balance a plastic clamshell of salad on their teeny tiny tray table? Plus, we can always tell ourselves that the calories don't count while on business trips. (As you can see, I lie to myself a lot...a whole, whole, lot.)

So, imagine my surprise when I show up in this little Kansas town, and the clerk at the Hampton Inn front desk tells me that "the Airport Steakhouse is really good."

Airport? Steakhouse? Steakhouse in the airport? The little municipal airport that I did not fly into, because there wasn't service to it, so I had to fly into Wichita and drive for an hour, that airport? The one that looks like it could have been a set for Wings--the airport where everybody knows your name? Yep, that airport.

From the outside, it doesn't look like much--the basic 60s-70s square building architecture, but inside was a whole 'nother story. It's going to sound stupid, but the Airport Steakhouse is a real restaurant--not just a lunch counter-type of place, or a place to get a $100 hamburger. I knew it was something completely different as I walked in the door and saw the specials board. Anything with the phrase "port wine reduction" in the entree description is not just another greasy spoon. With soft lighting, mod decor, and a bar...it was like going into a Crown Room or other oasis of calm and quiet (and free drinks) in many an airport...although, drinks were not free here.

The Airport Steakhouse doesn't have a website that I can find, but you can see their menu here. I had the KC Strip (am in Kansas...should do as the natives do, right?), which was flavorful, if a tad overdone...I think my waitress wrote down "medium" rather than "medium rare," but I was hungry and it tasted good, so I didn't bother sending it back. Had a lovely little banana cream pie for dessert--homemade, of course. (BTW, a Kansas City Strip and a New York Strip are virtually the same strip...sometimes, the KC has the bone left on, sometimes not.)

For lunch one day, the customer took me to Roy's Hickory Pit BBQ, a local joint...pretty darn close to a shack, since it was located in what looked to be an old house. The sign on front window sort of summed up the restaurant's philosophy: "Hours from 11-3 or until the food is gone." "Until the food is gone" pretty much says it all. I'm betting that the food is always gone, and they never have to worry about leftovers. I had chopped pork with a little ladle of slightly sweet sauce between two enormous pieces of buttery grilled Texas toast. I know this is weird, but that Texas toast was divine...probably a result of all the butter, but I'm not being picky. (Personally, I think Texas toast is a fine and wonderful thing and the perfect vehicle to make grilled cheese with...you can load on several slices of cheese to get a good bread to cheese ratio, and it comes out nice and golden. And, it's bigger, as everything is in Texas, and who doesn't like a bigger grilled cheese? : )

I also visited the Cosmosphere, which is an interesting little find. A space museum...in Kansas of all places. With IMAX. So, I had to go and see how it stacked up to the Rocket City one. Smaller, but with tons of stuff about the Germans that I don't remember seeing in ours, but I've not been in years. Plus, they put their SR-71 Blackbird inside the building...we left ours outside in the elements. Is that any way to treat a gift from the government? And, the Cosmosphere had a bunch of Russian space hardware that I've not seen before...a moon buggy-type of vehicle and some other things. Worth the walkthrough if you're a space buff. But, I'd advise staying away from the freeze-dried "astronaut food" in the gift shop...always stay away from that! Seriously, according to the blurb about the freeze-dried ice cream, " Freeze drying removes 98% of the original water content, which gives the ice cream a three-year shelf life. In addition to ice cream, Astronaut foods also feature a line of freeze-dried fruits: strawberries, bananas, peaches, cinnamon apples, and a Fruit & Nut mix that was originally designed for the Apollo Space Missions."

Do you really want to eat ice cream with a 3-year shelf life? I rest my case.

I'm home for awhile, and I got a new all soup cookbook that I'm going to delve into in the coming weeks, so stay tuned for some cozy comfort food.

Best Damn Chicken Tikka Masala Evah!

I was hanging out north of the border last week, in Ontario, and I must say how much I really do enjoying visiting Canada. I know it's stereotypical, but Canadians really do seem to be much more politer than those of us who reside in the lower 48.

I know, I know, Canada has crime and bad people just like any other country, but I've seriously have never experienced it firsthand, like I have in the States...and I like that I have such a rosy, touristy glow about the country.

I also like that there's a large Indian population in the area where I am staying, which allowed me to indulge in some serious eating of naan. (Y'all already know my love of bread, so I'll forgo the waxing and waning about that!)

I had a lovely dinner at Bombay Bhel, which I highly recommend if you are ever in the Toronto area. It's well worth the drive...so worth the drive, that when I'm back in Canada in a few weeks, I'm seriously considering driving 5 hours to eat there again. And, I don't say that about a lot of restaurants.

Most of my Indian food experience has been from the ubiquitous lunch buffet...and sometimes, a buffet is not a bad thing, especially when it comes to unfamiliar food. The buffet allows you to get a taste of many things, so you can go back later and order off the regular menu. However, I am totally hating the trend of all Chinese restaurants to be buffets with 100s of items, most of which in no way resemble actual Chinese food in any form or fashion. When I go for Chinese, I don't want to pick through meatballs, hot wings, and pizza...I want to order off a real menu.

Anyway, back to the meal. The manager/owner waited on me, and I sort of put myself in his hands. He suggested the Chicken Tikka Masala and garlic naan...and it was perfect. The layers of spice offset by the buttery garlic naan were just heavenly. I pretty much embarrassed myself by scraping up every last bit of sauce with the last of the naan crumbs...it was quite possible that I was veering closely towards getting my head stuck in the serving pot, and the only thing that stopped me was being in a restaurant with other people.

The owner and I had a nice little conversation about dining a'la carte as opposed to buffet. He was rather bemused about the way people think that a buffet is some sort of deal, because it's a lot easier to disguise lesser quality ingredients. Plus, he pointed out, that those giant buffet places do not throw out all the food at the end of the night--they can't afford it. He mentioned that for his daughter's birthday, they went to a local Chinese buffet, because for some reason, she didn't want to eat Indian food. : ) (Exotic celebratory food is all relative.) The buffet closed at 9:30, and he noticed that the employees were covering the buffet pans and moving them to the back kitchen...not dumping out the used dishes. That amazed me...I thought there would be some sort of health code rule about that...although, how many health department inspectors show up at closing time? I'm guessing not a lot, if any. Think about that the next time someone suggests buffet...at least go in the middle of lunch rush, so you don't get last night's leftovers that were put out first thing!

People were also making plans for Thanksgiving, which was celebrated on Monday in Canada...which explains why every Canadian and his or her sister was in the Customs line with me at 4-freakin'-30 in the morning.  I had that ungodly early flight to make it back to Atlanta at a decent, lesser traffic, hour to pick up the poodles, who were staying with The Man while I traveled. 

Turns out that Canadian Thanksgiving is on a Monday, so you're always assured of a 3-day weekend.  And, Canadians do a lot of what we do--eat too much, watch some sports, maybe strain a 40+ year old muscle trying to play touch football with the kids--the regular stuff

But, those whacky neighbors to the north like to mix it up a little, and there used to be themes for their Thanksgivings.  My theme would most likely be "No Marshmallows on the Sweet Potato Casserole Ever!"  Or maybe this:  "the All Macaroni & Cheese Day of Thanks for Cheesy Goodness."  Too much, you say?  "Honey", as Tessa always tells me, "excess is JUST enough!"  (Which seems to be the mission statement for that ongoing train wreck that Bravo is presenting--the Real Housewives of Atlanta.  Total dreck is the politest adjective I can come up with at the moment

So, I'm home for awhile...maybe I can get some more things unpacked and boxes moved in preparation for painting. And, I have to somehow pry off the craptastic 80s decorative mirror set  that is residing on my living room wall.  I've managed to get 2 of the 8 off in one place, along 2 casualties of my palette knife...which should be mean my luck will peek its little groundhog head out and proclaim that who was I kidding...bad luck always adds up in the end!

Oh, and the project...I haven't forgotten, but I still haven't found the cookbooks yet! : ) (But, I think I might try to make some Chicken Tikka on my own...)

Barbecue Coma

From the Silver Lining Department:  One of the good things about being back in the Rocket City is the proximity to decent barbecue.  (I know I've yammered on and on and on ad nauseum about barbecue, and will probably continue to do so, until I can't even remember how to spell barbecue.)

This week was an interesting one.  I went on my first site visit for the new company, and much to my relief, it's a lot like the old company's version (the one I got laid off from 3 years ago).  It's nice to know that the learning curve will not be quite as steep as it was waaaay back then.

Since the site was in Kentucky, close to the Indiana border, I decided that it would be easier to drive instead of fly.  It was going to take about the same amount of time, so why not be moving the whole time?  Plus, we were going to need a rental car anyway, and what's 4 and a half hours?  Especially if barbecue can fit into the equation.

As I started my journey, I decided to hit a barbecue joint in the little town directly to the west, since it was on the way.   Had a bit of a scare when the road in front of the barbecue shack was all torn up and required a detour...I wasn't sure that the barbecue shack was still there.  It was, thank the pig!  I got a sandwich, chips, and a big ol' sweet tea.  Heaven.

What is is with potato chips?  I remember as a kid, I could take them or leave them, but now they are like food of the gods.  Maybe it's because they're sort of "forbidden fruit" now that I know they are bad for me, will add inches to my hips, and take years off my life by eating, blah, blah, blah, blah, but damn, they are good!  All salty and potatoey...yum.

So, the site visit was near Owensboro, KY, an area long famed for its barbecue, and especially for an oddity even for the barbecue worlds--mutton.  Mutton does seem like an odd choice for barbecue, but I'm game to try it.  

The people we are working recommended a couple of places, one of which had burned 4 times!, and we settled on the Moonlite Barbecue Inn.  Located in Owensboro, KY, its parking lot was a veritable convention of pickup trucks, which is always a good sign for a barbecue joint.

We go in, and lo, behold, they have a buffet.  A freakin' barbecue BUFFET!  I am positively aquiver with excitement and the almost overwhelming thought that I can actually achieve smoked meat nirvana.  It's heady stuff, I tell you!

There's a salad bar, a hot bar with meat and vegetables, and a dessert bar.  I promptly make the call to punt the salad bar and move directly to the hot bar.  Amazingly enough, ALL the vegetables that I tried were wonderful.  Bad for you?--yes; tasty?--even more yes!  And this is very unusual for any buffet, you know.

And then, there was the meat end:  brisket, pulled pork, ribs, chicken, the mutton, and country ham.  I just knew that my ankles were going to swell to the size of my head by morning from this little foray into Sodium Land, but I didn't care...because, repeat after me, how often do you see a barbecue buffet that actually looks worth eating?  (Refuse to count chain "barbecue" places...is not real barbecue, according my version of the barbecue bible.)

I piled on some beef, pork, country ham, and a little mutton...remember, lamb is not all that high on my list, so old sheep is probably not going to be up there, either.  It actually was not bad...very moist, a little fatty, and not too gamey.  I would not order a whole barbecue mutton meal, but if given the opportunity to go back to the Moonlite, I'd put a little on my plate.

The meats were all tender and tasty, with the right amount of smoky flavor.  The Moonlite also has a couple of house specialities, like burgoo, which I did not have room to try, and "banana salad."  Banana Salad seems to be sliced bananas mixed with a little mayo and some chopped peanuts.  Not my favorite way to eat a banana for sure.

We moved on to the dessert portion of the meal, and I finally didn't have to make that hardest of choices:  chocolate pie or coconut cream pie?   I'm always torn between the two...homemade pie is hard to pass up anyway.  I try to remember which one I had last, so I can pay fair homage to the other flavor, but chocolate may be ahead.

Since the Moonlite has so thoughtfully provided the opportunity to eat both, along with banana pudding, buttermilk pie, cherry cobbler, blackberry cobbler, peanut butter pie, and a few other  goodies, I just had to build myself a dessert sampler with small slices and scoops of each.  It was all I could do to stay awake on the drive back to the hotel.

I decided that I would not subject my traveling companion to another night of barbecue...especially since she had just spent a week in Kansas City and had eaten barbecue practically every night.  But, I really wish I had.  We spent the last night in Evansville, IN to be closer to the airport for her flight out in the morning.  We ate at a local place that was sort of an Italian bistro kind of place.  I had the short ribs with risotto and asparagus.  The asparagus was great, the short ribs were so-so, and the risotto tasted like it came  out of a box and an off-brand box at that.  Ah, the joys of eating on the road--sometimes you win, sometimes you would have been better off going to Steak and Shake.

Seriously...the risotto really sucked.  And, I have actually made boxed risotto that tasted better.  (The key to using the boxed risotto is not to really think of it as risotto, but just as a rice side dish.  Your brain will be in a much better place if you do that.  Oh, and add about 1/2 cup of shredded Parmesan cheese.  Then, you won't care what you call it.)

And, to top off my trip, I get home to a dead refrigerator.  I walk into the house and smell something that is faintly reminiscent of burned electronics.  I think this is odd, but write it off to the AC not being on for a couple of days.  Then, when I go to get a glass of ice and water pours out of the ice chute, I realize something is up...or down.  Sure enough, I open the door, and while I still have some ice in the bin, it's pretty obvious that we're no longer freezing.  the fridge side was still cool, so this event must have occurred within the last 12 hours or so, and luckily, there was not much in there besides beer and butter.  

No one can come to fix it until Monday, so thank heavens for the garage fridge.  I can at least keep the beer cold...which is of utmost importance, you know.

And now, I must find the remote control and turn off the television, because The Semi-Ho Sandra Lee is doing Oktoberfest in La Crosse, WI, and she's scaring me in her dirndl and flower wreath.  She's promised us something called "Apple Lager" for the cocktail, and I am afraid...very afraid that she is going to add apple juice to beer.  You should be afraid, too.

(Okay, I had to watch to the bitter end to see if she really did put apple juice into beer.  She actually put a shot of apple brandy and an apple slice in glass of lager...which still makes me shake my head, but at least it's not apple juice...or Cool Whip.  Ah, now Paula's Home Cooking is on, so I can relax.  And laugh when Paula, who is making weiner schnitzel, which is essentially German country fried steak, says that it must be a diet dish because the meat is pounded so thin-hahahhahhahaa!  I love Paula!)   

 

Deep in the heart of Texas...or maybe it's the Kidney of Texas

Spent the last week back in Texas, about an hour north of Austin. Road construction around the area I was in made it prohibitive to try and go back to Austin to explore after a hard day of wearing dress shoes and training software, so I stuck around town and ate local.

So, what does one eat while in a small Texas town? Well, gotta have some Mexican food or Tex-Mex, for sure. You can't get away from it. And, there's always Chicken Fried Steak, which may be the Texas State Dish, or pretty close to it. Of course, when you are training, there's always a trip to a Chinese buffet of dubious nature. Luckily, this one was small and not the 1,000 item extravaganzas with weird, non-Chinese food things...like chicken fingers and weird Jell-o concoctions. This place replenished their offerings often, and never put too many items out at a time. I did go to a little cafe and had the Chicken Fried Steak lunch special, and where I got a piece of lattice-crusted apricot pie. That was definitely a "worth the calories" day.

And then, after a long hard day of yakking my fool head off, I needed a beer and these things: White Wings. Looks like a tennis ball wrapped in bacon and deep-fried, doesn't it? That was about the size of the thing, but it was most definitely NOT a tennis ball.

These bacony delights were chicken breast that had been pounded thin, sprinkled with Monterey Jack cheese and diced jalapenos, then rolled up, wrapped in bacon, and deep fried to a crispy, molten center goodness. The ladies that I was with said they made their own at home, all the time, and grilled them. They made them smaller...more like golf ball sized...and used fresh jalapenos instead. That sounds pretty awesome, and I'll be throwing that on the list for summer grilling.

Okay, I must tell you about my new favorite pasta. It's from the March 2007 issue of Bon Appetit, which I have and the "why I didn't see it there to begin with," I'm just going to ignore. Anyway, it popped up on this Epicurious recipe gadget that I have on my iGoogle page, and I clicked on it to have a look. It's seems pretty healthy, and I made some modifications to it, pretty much based on what I happened to have in the house at the time, and it's now my new favorite thing to eat. Heck, I had it for breakfast this morning...yes, The Man is out of town to visit his mom and step-dad, who had surgery today. He's fine, but will probably be pretty achy and sore for the next couple of weeks. So, as usual, when left to fend for myself, I tend to make a large batch of something and eat off it for days. And, I'm thinking that this is also a good summer grilling side dish, too.

Campanelle with Tomatoes and Feta

Adapted from Bon Appétit | March 2007

8 ounces campanelle (trumpet-shaped pasta) or fusilli (spiral-shaped pasta)

6 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, divided
3-6 green onions, chopped
3 large garlic cloves, minced
1-2 pint whole grape tomatoes

1 10-oz bag fresh spinach

1 container (~4 oz) crumbled feta cheese

Procedure:

Cook pasta in large pot of boiling salted water until just tender but still firm to bite, stirring occasionally.

Meanwhile, while the pasta cooks, heat 3 tablespoons olive oil in heavy large skillet over high
heat. Add green onions, garlic, and all tomatoes; sauté until tomatoes begin to soften and collapse, about 7 minutes. Sprinkle with salt and pepper.

Drain pasta. Return to pot. Add tomato mixture, spinach, and remaining 3
tablespoons olive oil; toss until spinach begins to wilt. Add feta cheese and stir until it starts to get creamy. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Transfer pasta to plates and serve.

The first time I made this, I had a quart-sized container of grape tomatoes that were starting to get a little wrinkly, which made them sweeter, and really rocked this dish. The feta also gives it enough cheesy creaminess that makes me not miss throwing a ton of Parmesan in, and I think the 4 oz is enough--the original recipe calls for 7, which I think is too much. (I know, pick your collective jaws up off the floor...I actually said something about there being too much cheese...I can hardly believe it myself.

I had grilled some chicken breasts to serve with it during one meal, and The Man was helping me get stuff off the grill while I was juggling something else...I think the washer was trying to overflow. He cut up the chicken, because he thought I was going to be adding it to the pasta, and what the heck--it worked out great, too.

Tonight though, I had asparagus...grilled asparagus. The Man doesn't like asparagus, so I don't usually make as a side dish...but it was on sale at Publix for $1.99/lb and that's just hard to pass up. I tossed it with a little olive oil, salt, and pepper, and grilled it. Fire is a great and wonderful thing, don't you know! I had visions of taking the leftover grilled asparagus and adding it to the above pasta dish for tomorrow's breakfast, but alas, there were no leftovers.

(Someday, we'll have a whole discussion on my penchant for eating non-traditional breakfast foods for breakfast, but now, I've finally gotten sleepy enough to actually sleep...which is good, since I have to get up in 5 hours!)