Why junk food really is addictive. (Telegraph UK)
Professor Kessler, ex-commissioner of the US Food and Drug Administration (FDA), claims that manufacturers have created combinations of fat, sugar and salt that are so tasty many people cannot stop eating them even when full.
He argues that manufacturers are seeking to trigger a “bliss point” when people eat certain products, leaving them hungry for more.
“It is time to stop blaming individuals for being overweight or obese,” he said. “The real problem is we have created a world where food is always available and where that food is designed to make you want to eat more of it. For millions of people, modern food is simply impossible to resist.”
While at the FDA, Prof Kessler was well known for his criticism of the tobacco industry, which he accused of manipulating cigarettes to make them even more addictive.
The same can be said about porn.
And make these humorless fucking assholes wallow in their own wankerish, self-righteous, killjoy existence.
Try the “Ris de Veau”, a dish that singlehandedly made me appreciate sweetbreads.
Sel Gris
852 SE Hawthorne Blvd
Portland, OR
97214
(503) 517-7770
Waiter, There’s Deer in My Sushi. (NY Times)
Sushi made with deer meat, anyone? How about a slice of raw horse on that rice?
These are some of the most extreme alternatives being considered by Japanese chefs as shortages of tuna threaten to remove it from Japan’s sushi menus — something as unthinkable here as baseball without hot dogs or Texas without barbecue.
In this seafood-crazed country, tuna is king. From maguro to otoro, the Japanese seem to have almost as many words for tuna and its edible parts as the French have names for cheese. So when global fishing bodies recently began lowering the limits on catches in the world’s rapidly depleting tuna fisheries, Japan fell into a national panic.
Nightly news programs ran in-depth reports of how higher prices were driving top-grade tuna off supermarket shelves and the revolving conveyer belts at sushi chain stores. At nicer restaurants, sushi chefs began experimenting with substitutes, from cheaper varieties of fish to terrestrial alternatives and even, heaven forbid, American sushi variations like avocado rolls.
“It’s like America running out of steak,” said Tadashi Yamagata, vice chairman of Japan’s national union of sushi chefs. “Sushi without tuna just would not be sushi.”
I’m pretty sure if you stuck cream cheese in it and called it a “Bambi Roll” or a “Seabiscuit Maki” all the fucking retards in Scottsdale (or the Pearl) would buy it.
Ahi Poke
- 1/2 pound sashimi-grade ahi block, diced
- 1 stalk chopped green onion
- 1/4 chopped white onion
- 1 tablespoon low-sodium soy sauce
- Squeeze of lemon juice
- 1 tablespoon sesame oil
- Hawaiin red salt
- Grated fresh ginger
- Togarishi (Japanese chili pepper blend)
Combine all ingredients except togarishi. Refridgerate for a bit. Sprinkle with togarishi before serving.
The venerable Sauce Supreme led the way on a tri-city, quad-izakaya crawl (ostensibly) by train last night. Live vicariously at this link.
Phở Nguyễn nestles in a large strip mall anchored by a Fred Meyer on Beaverton Hillsdale Highway at the point Portland segues into Beaverton proper.
It’s a pretty standard Vietnamese pho joint, with a numbered menu and the various combinations of pho.
Goi cuon. They were delivered immediately, which means they were pre-rolled, which is fine if the roll contains more than one paper thin slice of pale boiled pork and a single halved shrimp. Very weak.
The salad plate at Nguyen is very generous, including ample amount of ngo gai, which is essential for pho. The inclusion of sawtooth herb on a garnish plate is usually a good indication a place takes their pho seriously.
Pho tai chin, my standard order.
Close-up of the chin/brisket. Very tender and flavorful.
Phở Nguyễn does a nice job with their soup. I’ve had the pho here a little over half a dozen times, and each bowl has been consistent and satisfying. The broth is neither overpowering nor amazingly nuanced, but it does have a nice balance — this is predictable pho, which is a good thing. I haven’t had anything besides pho here, probably because the insipid goi cuon placed some doubts in my mind.
Phở Nguyễn
4795 SW 77th Avenue
Portland, OR 97225
(503) 297-3389
Phở Nguyễn on THE WORLD WIDE WEB
Pizza Hut to change its name? (MSN Money)
Blame recession cuts. Pizza Hut reportedly is slicing the “pizza” from its name. The fast food chain will now be known simply as “The Hut.”
The chain, which has recently expanded its menu beyond pizza to include pasta, could not immediately be reached for comment Friday. Media and advertising trade publication MediaWeek characterized the name change as an attempt to transform its stores into hip hangouts. There are more than 10,000 Pizza Huts worldwide.
The new “hut” stores will be more than a place to simply pick up some take-out, according to MediaWeek. They will include televisions that broadcast CBS programs such as “Wheel of Fortune” and “Entertainment Tonight.”
The company has tried to become more hip and youth-friendly in recent months. In April, it introduced the Pizza Hut “Twintern,” an employee who uses the online service Twitter to update customers about store events and pop culture news.
This comment is priceless:
Idiots. Simply put, they are idiots. This will backfire. Its marketing 101: dont alter a name the public has come to know well. Now when college guys are sitting around and one of them says, “I wanna go to the hut,” the other guys will think he wants to go to a gay bar.
I first tasted this Martin’s Swiss Dressing about 15 months ago when they were doing an expo at Uwajimaya. I sampled the dressing as a nice coat on simple mixed greens, and immediately experienced priapism of the taste buds.
“Wow,” I thought to myself. (That is the extent of the dramatization).
I quickly grabbed a bottle of Martin’s Swiss Dressing and placed it in my shopping cart. At $5.99 for 8 ounces, it was rather pricey. But for somebody who tosses as much salad as yours truly(!)—I eat a large salad every weekday—this was simply a down payment on deliciousness.
Soon after, as I returned to Uwajimaya for subsequent bottles of dressing, I realized why this dressing had so much influence on my life. Swiss = umami proficiency = the motherland of Maggi. Imagine if the very core essence of Maggi umamish fortitude was somehow emulsified into a velvety smooth nectar suitable for drizzling onto leafy greens (aka “salad dressing”). You would have Martin’s Swiss Dressing.
It very much reminds me of the incredible concotions I ate growing up, whereupon my Mom undoubtedly added a few splashes of Maggi to her Saigon-infused “caesar” salads—replete with a beaten raw egg cracked over the romaine just prior to a shower of grated parmesan before serving.
I used to be mostly a fine olive oil and red vinegar guy, but Martin’s has pretty much changed my life. Packing plenty of saline je ne sai quois, it is the only dressing with which I don’t feel like I need to additionally salt my greens to bring out their true flavor.
Here’s the story behind Martin’s.
I will go on record by saying this is the best commercial salad dressing available on the free market today (and perhaps the salad dressing black market as well). In the year+ since I’ve been buying this stuff religiously at Uwajimaya, the dressing has cropped up in the refrigerated dressing aisles of Portland area New Seasons and Lamb’s Thriftway, as well (the dressing apparently is required to maintain a cold temp).
Martin’s Swiss Dressing
Available at Uwajimaya in Beaverton, Portland area New Seasons, and Portland area Lamb’s Thriftways.
I’ve been a big fan of In-n-Out Burger for what seems like my entire life. Since the chain exists only in California (and more recently Nevada and Arizona) many people are surprised when they finally try In-n-Out for the first time and and don’t have a transcendental experience and spontaneously combust in rapturous orgasm, as this is the occurrence commonly related by thousands of over-ebullient keyboard jockeys on the Internet.
Truth is, In-n-Out is still fast food, but it’s damn good fast food, perfectly executed (in terms of fast food) each time. If In-n-Out were a relief pitcher, it would be Mariano Riviera.
Part of the In-n-Out’s charm has to do with the nostalgia factor and the KISS ethos, and the menu is emblematic of a bygone era when straightforward honesty and a nickel would buy you a cup of coffee. Whereas national chains get all gimmicky up in your grill with Angry Whoppers and flatbread melts, In-n-Out coasts along just nicely with its cutter and split-finger fastball in the low-to-mid-nineties.
Recently I found myself driving through central California, on my way to the Bay Area, when I realized that I had been in the Golden State for nearly a day and had not eaten at In-n-Out. It suddenly dawned on me that eating In-n-Out, in this part of the state, in America’s “salad bowl”, would essentially be a materialization of the entire “eat local” ethic. In-n-Out, after all, is regional to a fault—they choose not to expand mainly due to sourcing concerns. One could safely assume that a substantial portion of the chain’s beef and vegetables was raised on the vast acreage of farmland I was driving through at that very moment. Thus, it only made sense for me to take the next exit off of I-5 and take a 40+ mile detour to Fresno.
I was richly rewarded. For many, the Double-Double (with cheese) is what moves them, but for me two plain old Hamburgers (Animal Style, mustard-ketchup-instead) is standard issue.
At under three-and-a-half bucks, it was perfectly assembled, and the results tasted delicious like every other burger I’ve had at In-n-Out in my lifetime. Not orgasmic—just straightforward, honest, and affordable.
As I drove away, I couldn’t help but notice all the other people who decided they wanted fast food burgers for lunch but did not opt for the In-n-Out that was located in the same strip mall.
All these people are complete idiots.
While driving many miles out of the way to eat “local” might seem a bit misguided from a layman’s perspective, I did purchase some figurative carbon offsets by taking a picture of this wind farm as I drove into Oakland. So there.
Oysters in deep trouble: Is Pacific Ocean’s chemistry killing sea life? (Seattle Times)
In a region that provides one-sixth of the nation’s oysters — the epicenter of the West Coast’s $111 million oyster industry — everyone knows nature can be fickle.
But then the failure was repeated in 2006, 2007 and 2008. It spread to an Oregon hatchery that supplies baby oysters to shellfish nurseries from Puget Sound to Los Angeles. Eighty percent of that hatchery’s oyster larvae died, too.
Now, as the oyster industry heads into the fifth summer of its most unnerving crisis in decades, scientists are pondering a disturbing theory. They suspect water that rises from deep in the Pacific Ocean — icy seawater that surges into Willapa Bay and gets pumped into seaside hatcheries — may be corrosive enough to kill baby oysters.
If true, that could mean shifts in ocean chemistry associated with carbon-dioxide emissions from fossil fuels may be impairing sea life faster and more dramatically than expected.
Miwon BBQ is located in the Fubonn Shopping Center on SE 82nd.
First and foremost, Miwon is a classic Cantonese-style BBQ joint, replete with whole ducks and sides of bbq pig hanging on hooks, ready to be purchased by the pound.
The Buddhist shrines remind me of my Mom’s worship of the jolly, wise fat man.
The BBQ to-go menu.
Miwon is a full-serve restaurant as well. The premier soup, available with either thin rice or egg noodles, is chock full of the BBQ meat items they sell to-go by the pound.
The Super Bowl “A”, featuring roast duck, bbq pork, roast pork, wontons, and egg noodles. If you count wontons (and I do), that’s four types of meat! It really is a feast, and the broth is just mild enough to allow the meats to shine. The greens add a wonderful vegetal counterbalance.
Duck.
Roast pork.
Wonton porn.
Miwon BBQ
Fubonn Shopping Center
2850 SE 82nd Ave
Portland, OR 97266
(503) 501-5008
Restaurants on the Ropes (US News)
When Americans get stressed out, one thing they do is eat. But apparently not enough.
The dismal economy has punished retailers, with companies like Circuit City and Linens ’n Things going extinct and dozens of others losing money. Now it’s hitting their cousins in the restaurant industry, too. The Bennigan’s and Steak & Ale chains were early casualties, going belly up last summer. This year, with Americans cutting back on spending, sales at restaurants could fall by 10 percent or more. Analysts don’t expect widespread closures, but some chains are likely to close unprofitable outlets, cut back on service, and look for other ways to reduce costs.
Los Angeles has it share of problems. And for that, LA likewise amasses its share of detractors who decry the smog, earthquakes, and transparently farcical celebrity sex tapes.
If you’ve read the news lately, you’re aware the state of California is on also the brink of insolvency. As I exited LA one early weekday recent morning, I drove past a local high school. I was greeted by quite a sight: school faculty and students alike in active protest against impending, draconian budget cuts that threaten to turn the LA Unified School District into an instrument more suited to serve a third-world banana republic rather than future adults living in America’s second most populous conurbation. By the time this blog post is published, the radical mouth-breathers holding California’s state legislature hostage may have already decreed that public education (as well as life-sustaining services for the sick and elderly) is just another Socialist folly dispensed from a pile of filthy lucre, one that deliberately engenders class warfare. If what I heard on AM talk radio as I drove north between Bakersfield and Fresno is any indication, there are many fatalists looking forward to their state’s impending implosion.
But I digress, as—despite all these problems—Los Angeles has excellent fried chicken.
Pollo Campero is a Guatemalan chain that has made recent in-roads into America (including a few Wal-marts). The Los Angeles area boasts numerous locations. This is fast-food, and the combos here–in lieu of mashed potatoes, corn, and a biscuit and honey—feature rice, beans and steamed white corn tortillas.
I’m unsure of the exact provenance of the marinade which gives the pollo frito at Campero a reddish hue. I assume it’s spiked with plenty of red chilies—but the chicken is neither spicy nor aggressively seasoned. Finger-torn strips of meat, wrapped in tortillas and topped with garnishes from the self-serve salsa bar (chopped onions, a sub-par salsa fresca, and serviceable verde and red sauces) make serviceable, impromptu fried chicken tacos. Chicken itself off the bone was fantastic, with savory crispness that had me seeking bits of battered goodness hiding in the crevices of a breast rib.
The sides at Pollo Campero were a pleasant surprise. A mild rice–studded with peas stood up relatively well, nothing special.
But the beans—pintos imbued with porky goodness from the bacon and sausage they were simmered with—were very good. Pollo Campero is the type of “boutique” fast food I could live with.
On another end of the fried chicken spectrum, by way of Korea, is Kyochon, an eatery in Koreatown whose culinary reputation has reached near-mythic proportions. Reading Jonathon Gold’s effusive praise in the LA Weekly cemented my desire to see for myself if the fried chicken was worth the price (which starts at $4.99 for 4 wings or 2 drumsticks).
Kyochon features two flavors, a garlic soy or the spicy “original”. I picked up a four pack of spicy wings, and a 2-piece portion of the garlic soy drumsticks.
The chicken pieces they had on hand must have been deemed on the smaller side, as we were actually given three very flavorul and crispy drumsticks…
…and five amazing chicken wings. The smell of these heavenly morsels quickly dominated during the car ride home, and resisting the urge to snack on a wing as I hurtled down Pico Blvd was torturous. I will say these fiery, sticky and sweet wings were some of the best I’ve had. Fuck the celery and blue cheese—give me a bucket of these and crisp pint of lager come football season.
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The tri-tip roast is one of my favorite cuts o’ beef. From the WIKIPEDIA- THE FREE ENCYCLOPEDIA ON THE WORLD WIDE WEB:
The tri-tip is a cut of beef from the bottom sirloin primal cut.[1] It is a small triangular muscle, usually 1.5 to 2.5 lbs. (675 to 1,150g) per side of beef.
…
In much of Europe, the tri-tip is usually sliced into steaks, known as “triangle steaks” in the United Kingdom. In France the tri-tip is called aiguillette baronne and is left whole as a roast.[2] In Northern Germany, it is called Bürgermeisterstück or Pastorenstück, in Southern Germany and Austria Hüferschwanzel, and a traditional Bavarian and Austrian dish serves it boiled with horseradish. In Spain, it is often grilled whole and called the punta de triángulo. In Central America, this cut is also usually grilled in its entirety, and is known as punta de Solomo, and in South America, it is grilled as part of the Argentine asado and is known as colita de cuadril.
I like the tri-tip because it’s big and beefy—it’s ultimately representative what I think “beef” should taste like—and, as long as you have a steady heat source and a decent marinade, cooking tri-tip is relatively easy with predictable results. Asian-style marinades work well, as does grill/roasting. Also, the tri-tip is a lean cut of beef, so you can really pig out.
Tri-tip Roast/Marinade
- 1 tablespoon soy
- 1 tablespoon maggi
- 2 tablespoons worcestshire
- 1 tablespoon sweetened black chinese vinegar
- 8 cloves garlic, smashed and coarsely chopped
- 1/2 white onion, finely diced
- Juice of 1 lime
- 2 tablespoons olive oil
- 2 tablespoons oyster sauce
- Plenty of coarse ground red szechuan, green and black peppercorns (if you think you’ve used too much, then use some more)
Combine all ingredients, pour over tri-tip and turn to coat. Marinade overnight.
Fire up you grill—I like charcoal in a conventional kettle style Weber.
Here’s a technique I’ve come to use more and more. I use a chimney starter for my charcoal. Newspaper in the bottom ignites the bottom layer of charcoal, which builds over the course of 15 minutes to a towering inferno of blazing hot flames. Before dumping this, I like to place the grill grate of my mini Weber kettle on top of the flames and sear my meat, before dumping the coals and finishing the roast over indirect heat under a covered (and vented) dome.
Most timing charts will tell you about a 1/2 hour per pound, I would go less than that if you like your meat more on the pink side. If you have a meat thermometer, you can test for internal doneness. Turn once during roasting, and of course, allow the meat to sit for at least 10 minutes after removing from the grill.
Murder Burger’s staff wear Meat is Murder T-shirts. (The Daily Telegraph via SS’s Twitter)
THERE’S something very confronting about buying a beef burger from a man wearing a “Meat is Murder” T-shirt.
Especially, when it’s his staff uniform.
But that’s how things go at Murder Burger, a New Zealand gourmet burger store that appears to specialise in downplaying itself in that classic Antipodean way, with great results.
I’d rather have the staff wear a shirt that says “Strangeways Here We Come”.
Reasonable Consumer Would Know “Crunchberries” Are Not Real, Judge Rules. (Lowering the Bar, a legal humor blog)
On May 21, a judge of the U.S. District Court for the Eastern District of California dismissed a complaint filed by a woman who said she had purchased “Cap’n Crunch with Crunchberries” because she believed “crunchberries” were real fruit. The plaintiff, Janine Sugawara, alleged that she had only recently learned to her dismay that said “berries” were in fact simply brightly-colored cereal balls, and that although the product did contain some strawberry fruit concentrate, it was not otherwise redeemed by fruit. She sued, on behalf of herself and all similarly situated consumers who also apparently believed that there are fields somewhere in our land thronged by crunchberry bushes.
It’s been a bit over a year since Hakatamon—the Japanese restaurant nestled into the southwest corner of the Uwajimaya superstore in Beaverton—debuted it’s ramen. Known for its hand rolled udon, Hakatamon went on noodle hiatus at the time – claiming that a spike in wheat prices had made making it’s own udon noodles untenable. As they announced a move towards commercially available udon, they also announced that they would debut two ramen dishes in April, 2008, including a tonkotsu (pork bone broth) and a cha sui ramen (stewed pork).
I was quite excited, as my ramen experiences in Portland have been less than stellar. When I first moved here in 2002, I frequented the Koji Osakaya on Macadam and at their version of both tonkotsu and cha sui ramen regularly. Though they were using clearly pre-fab fresh ramen packages, they did generally an ok job of gussying it up enough to sate my appetite.
Nothing could compare, however, to the excellent ramen I at often in San Diego when I lived there in the late nineties, or the ramen I’ve eaten in the Bay Area. Ramen tastes and one’s idea of what constitutes “good” ramen is one of the most subjective concepts in the food universe. When Biwa opened up in 2006 and served ramen in their excellent izakaya setting, I was very underwhelmed. However, it seemed to be universally held up by others in this fair burg as an excellent rendition of the venerable Japanese noodle soup. For me, it always fell short, but that’s the subject of another post.
Hakatamon also does a fairly good job with some of the Japanese standards. This poke is one of my favorites in town, if only because it’s an excellent value at only $5.95.
The sashimi and nigiri I’ve had heard has been inconsistent, but generally I would have to give them fairly good marks, again for the ratio of value/quality that can be had here. I’ve explored many other items on the menu – katsu, chirashi, (large rice balls studded in the center with a single uemeboshi) – and all has been solid-to-fair.
Back to the ramen. The standard bowl ($7.95) is garnished quite sparingly with pickled ginger, green onions, a hunk of stewed pork, sliced stewed konbu, and a sprinkling of sesame seeds.
The noodles here are commercial noodles that—if I had a guess (judging by their texture and lack of curliness)—begin the day as dried noodles. Not ideal by any means, but they stand up relatively well.
I will go on record by saying I enjoy the hakata-style ramen at Hakatamon. When they first opened, it seemed to me they were serving two separate, rich and hearty stocks – a cloudier, cream-colored tonkotsu pork bone broth, and a bold, darker version that accompanied the cha sui version. Both were excellent, however the two broth strategy appeared to be ditched shortly after introduction and only one broth (more the former than the latter) is now served.
The cha sui ($9.50) is basically the standard hakata-style with more pork.
And what good pork it is. Fall-apart tender slices of meat, with a hefty amount of fat (and a bit of unctuous skin) that melts away as you bite into it. The broth has the same viscosity as the tonkotsu, nice and thick and “meaty”, and picks up some of the rendering fat from the pork as you eat through it. Slurping up the last few spoonfuls of broth was rich and satisfying, akin to sucking on a pork marrow bone.
Hakatamon
(503) 430-3106
4130 SW 117th Ave
Beaverton, OR 97005
Hakatamon on the WORLD WIDE WEB
Burger King Calls Global Warming “Baloney”. (Memphis Flyer)
Businesses usually don’t court political controversy, but signs at (at least) two Memphis Burger King locations read: “Global Warming is Baloney.” According to one employee at the Burger King on Union Avenue and Pauline, that’s no mistake.
Care to eavesdrop on my incredibly strange conversation with a female BK employee who didn’t identify herself? Read on.
Me: Hi, I’m calling from the Flyer about your sign. Does Burger King really think global warming is baloney?
BK: [Hangup]
Me:(calling back): Your sign out front says global warming is baloney.
BK: I don’t see that sir.
Me: Well it does.
BK: I don’t see that sir… I change the signs and that sign’s been up for a week.
Me: Well, I have pictures that I took this afternoon [cross conversation ensuring I'm calling the correct BK. I am]
Me: So there’s no question that your sign said it and so did one in Midtown. I want to know if it was on purpose or if it was a prank someone pulled on you.
BK: Let me get the manager. [several minutes of dead air then the same or very similar voice picks up.]
BK: Who were you holding for?
Me: A manager, about the sign. I have pictures of the sign and people have called me upset. I just want to know if it’s a mistake or not so I can report it. [rehash of previous conversation]
BK: Let me go outside and look at the sign and I’ll call you right back. [exchange of contact info]
I recently dropped by the Hob Knob Grille on SE Morrison, a new-ish eatery that occupies the former digs of the mediocre Southeast outpost of Salvador Molly’s…
And gave their house ground Hobnob Burger a whirl. It’s an interesting take on a standard, served with a chipotle cream cheese, a tomato jam, lettuce, tomato (sprinkled with fresh ground pepper), and a single Hungarian-style skinny chili.
Thankfully, it’s served on an expertly toasted bun (burgers on ciabatta is the worst culinary trend of this millenium). My burger came out decidedly more on the medium side than the medium rare I requested, but this was a very flavorful, honest burger. The chips, while nice and house made, makes you pine for fries.
Hob Nob is aiming to fill that niche of solid neighborhood eatery. If this burger is any indication, they are doing a fine job.
Hob Knob Grille
3350 SE Morrison St
Portland, OR 97214
503.445.3665
Hob Knob on the WORLD WIDE WEB
Papa Haydn, located on Northwest Portland’s bustling 23rd Avenue, is a destination due to its plethora of dessert and pastry choices. I stopped by a while ago to check out their bistro burger.
Things started off with this French onion soup. The soup was fairly standard, with a thick slab of gruyere melted upon a raft of bread floating atop the earthenware dish. The broth was a bit understated, but the onions were thick and meaty.
The burger came atop a nicely toasted brioche-like bun. Some very good, fresh-cut (near) shoestring fries accompanied the burger.
Mustard and ketchup on the side. The burger here is fairly standard, and the beef is pretty flavorful. My gripe was the shape of the patty. It had a dome shape most commonly associated with a hand-formed backyard patty–too thick in the middle, with tapered edges. As it stood, its total circumference was too sparse to adequately blanket the bun on which it sat.
Lunch ended with this lemon tart with a meringue border. Like I mentioned, Papa Haydn is known for their desserts. This tasted like dessert.
Papa Haydn (West)
701 NW 23rd Ave.
Portland, OR
(503) 228-7317
This hot dog cart is located just south of Jamison Park in the Pearl District.
Presumably the gentleman behind these sauces and rubs has a say in the day-to-day operations of this food cart. I’m too lazy to do the research.
The menu.
A nicely grilled Chicken Italian Sausage, doused with standard condiments and copious amounts of Harry’s sauce.
Northwest Hot Dogs
Jamison Park (NW Johnson and 11th)
http://northwesthotdogs.com
Cheesesteak not Philly’s best sandwich?. (Philly.com)
“I may never eat another Philly cheesesteak – not, at least, when I can have a roast pork sandwich,” a writer opined some weeks ago in the Washington Post.
Tim Warren, who lives in Maryland, was such a big cheesesteak fan that he often made food runs to Philadelphia and found he “wasn’t the only idiot who had driven 100 miles for a $7 sandwich.”
He sided with Pat’s in the Pat’s vs. Geno’s debate.
Now he’s siding with the roast pork vs. cheesesteak.
Because he fell in love.
“The subtle interplay between the pork and the tart greens, between the provolone and the spices in the juices, is heaven compared with the sledgehammer-like cheesesteak.”
Heaven!
“Going from cheesesteaks to roast pork sandwiches was like listening to whatever pop music was on the radio, and one day discovering a station that played Sinatra and Duke Ellington,” he gushed.
Portland firefighter turned restaurateur sues for disability benefits. (Oregon Live)
A former firefighter is suing the City of Portland for $2 million, claiming that it should have to continue to pay him thousands of dollars a month in disability benefits despite the fact that he has succeeded as a nationally known chef.
Thomas K. Hurley filed suit Thursday in Multnomah County Circuit Court, arguing that the city has been “reneging” on its promise to pay him disability benefits as long as he isn’t physically able to work as a firefighter.
The suit doesn’t say how much Hurley was receiving in benefits before the city cut him off, and the city declined to talk about Hurley’s case because of the pending litigation.
According to a 2005 article in The Oregonian, Hurley was collecting $3,948 a month in late 2004. Meanwhile, he had created a high-profile second career running an upscale French restaurant, Hurley’s, in Northwest Portland. He closed the restaurant at the end of 2007 to move to Seattle to focus full-time on a restaurant he’d started there.
Hurley, a fifth-generation firefighter, has said that he fractured his knee when he fell through a second-story floor that collapsed in a fire. He has said he also suffered another injury, hurting his back when thrown by the force of a fire. He has been on disability since 1993.
The city’s Fire and Police Disability and Retirement Fund helped pay for his training at the French Culinary Institute in New York so he could start a new career. The fund also continued to pay him thousands of dollars a month in disability benefits.
Ah, the memories: Hurley’s closes, but not without parting shot. Shorter Thomas Hurley: “Portland, you are a bunch of rubes, you can suck my knob. But I will continue to take your city’s money.”
“I’m moving on to bigger and better things,” says Hurley. “I need to be in a bigger city with more sophistication, more money…”
“Portland wasn’t ready for me,” says Hurley. “People in Seattle love what we do. They don’t mind paying for quality.”
Maybe Seattle doesn’t mind paying for quality, but I’m pretty sure they would mind if their tax money paid your mortgage.
A Chili Sauce to Crow About. (NY Times via @wanderchopstick)
It’s become a sleeve trick for chefs like Jean-Georges Vongerichten.
At the restaurant Perry St., in New York City, Mr. Vongerichten’s rice-cracker-crusted tuna with citrus sauce has always relied on the sweet, garlicky heat of sriracha. More recently, he has honed additional uses. “The other night, I used some of the green-cap stuff with asparagus,” Mr. Vongerichten said. “It’s well balanced, perfect in a hollandaise.”
In Houston, at the restaurant Reef, Bryan Caswell, a veteran of Mr. Vongerichten’s kitchens, stirs sriracha into the egg wash he uses to batter fried foods, from crab cakes to oysters to onion rings. “It’s not heavily fermented, it’s not acidic,” said Mr. Caswell, who has won a devoted following for the sriracha rémoulade he often serves with such fried dishes. “It burns your body, not your tongue.”
Sriracha has proved relevant beyond the epicurean realm. Wal-Mart sells the stuff. So do mom-and-pop stores, from Bristol, Tenn., to Bisbee, Ariz.
Sriracha is a key ingredient in street food: The two Kogi trucks that travel the streets of Los Angeles, vending kimchi-garnished tacos to the young, hip and hungry, provide customers with just one condiment, Huy Fong sriracha.
I was in Los Angeles recently, and entirely upon Oishii Eats’ heads up I decided to hit Umami Burger.
I already had my mind set on the namesake burger. Here’s the rest of the menu:
The Umami Burger interior itself presents a stylish, yet comforting, modernity.
The raison d’etre.
Triple pork burger with fries and “umami” ketchup.
Triple pork burger.
Umami burger.
Roasted tomato, umami ketchup, shitake mushroom, parmesan crispellete. Amazing. The composition of the burger really spoke to my worldview. Easily one of the top 5 burgers of my recent life.
Malt Liquor Tempura onion rings.
Triple Pork Burger money shot. Ground pork seasoned with chorizo and “cob-smoked” bacon, manchego, and pimenton aioli. Wonderfully spiced. The roasted tomato slice served as a beautiful foil for the rest of the sandwich.
We’ve owned a Saturn in some shape or form for over a decade now, and it’s refreshing to see our customer loyalty rewarded by GM most likely killing the brand altogether. In the meantime, I’ll continue to get the car serviced in Beaverton at the Saturn dealership like I’ve been doing for the last seven years.
I’ve been driving by this place for seven years whenever I’ve traveled to Beaverton to get the Saturn serviced, and it never occurred to me to stop by. Recently, though, after a scheduled maintenance appointment, upon spotting this sign, I realized that I had three dollars.
As you can see, the menu is a mix of old school Spanglish, and is somewhat hilarious.
The “proper” taco menu is an addendum.
Immediately, I was impressed with the prolific garnish opportunities, which included ranch dressing. I liken the appearance of ranch dressing in a restaurant to that of Matthew McConaughey in a movie. It ensures that the experience will be bad.
In addition, these table sauces were available. They were weak and watery.
The taco triumvirate (carne enchilada aka “marinated pork”, asada, carnitas). Each of these were a dollar. I had three dollars.
Asada.
Carne enchilada aka “marinated pork”.
Fully dressed tacos.
If you’re in Beaverton for any reason, I suggest you keep driving.
Mexicali Express
On a street in Beaverton. You will have to look it up yourself, as I can’t in good conscience direct you there by any means.
As seen from the balcony.
Frugal Portland. (NY Times via Dave Knows: Portland via PDXPlate)
Portland’s frugal side is on full display in this NY Times piece. Much love is given to food carts. Video here.