Holidays, however, should be for getting things done, and in the spirit of trying something new, Miss Vinegar girded her loins with her check card and headed out.

Cheeburger Cheeburger

in Tanglewood Mall, Roanoke, VA

The Food: Cheeburger Cheeburger (...sigh) is one of those places you suspect of wanting to put onions on the ice cream; even their basic chicken sandwich comes with sauteed onions. They do, however, have a nice build-your-own-burger selection, with burgers ranging in sizes from 5.5 ounces to 20 ounces. Miss Vinegar built a bacon-Swiss burger with honey mustard, and PoBoy went Italian with marinara, provolone and garlic. Both were quite good. A word of warning, however: the restaurant does not provide fries with the burgers, and the medium fries basket we ordered was really quite large.  They also have a comprehensive soda fountain, offering handmixed sodas as well as shakes and malts.

The Service: Quite good. Our server helped us navigate the menu easily.

The Ambience: Retro fake diner it all its glory: cardboard cutouts of Elvis, lots of pastels and chrome.

Overall: *** (three stars)

I hate to use the word “snobbish”, because I’m sure their motivations are pure and come from a love of food, but I just don’t know how else to explain it. You see, most foodies get upset when people (especially cooks on TV) use pre-packaged foods. For example, I have read several blog posts lambasting people for using pre-packaged chicken stock or American cheese. Now, I happen to agree with their general premise, homemade chicken stock is not that hard to make and it tastes way better than the canned stuff, but I think their crusade to deny the respectability of any and all pre-packaged foods misses one of the key elements of cooking—its cultural heritage.

To cook true Italian food, you wouldn’t want to use a jarred tomato sauce. Trust me, its not “in there.” :) Of course the style of cooking varies from region to region, but in general good Italian cooking demands the use of fresh, local, seasonal, ingredients. Proteins are often seasoned only with salt, pepper, and extra virgin olive oil. Sauces often only contain a few simple ingredients. Yes, the food is amazing, but its roots came out of necessity. Nonna had to make her own sauce—they didn’t have jarred sauces. Olive oil was cheap and abundant. Most people raised some sort of small game in their yards. Herbs were grown in their own gardens, but you wouldn’t want to waist all of them on a single meal, so you had to pick and choose what to use in which meals. Good Italian food is what it is, like food from other areas of the world, because it arose out of poor and/or working class homes.

And that is where I think foodies sometimes miss the boat. They forget that America has its own food culture. And just like Italian food, our food has grown out of necessity. It was cheaper for my mom to buy Velveeta cheese than it was for her to buy smoked gouda. Kool-Aid was cheaper than juice, so we had to have a constant supply of white granulated sugar on hand at all times. And as much as I loved good salami from the Italian deli, all we ever had was the cheap Oscar Meyer stuff that came packaged with an assortment of bologna, ham, and pickle loaf. I love my roots. They are very American. And they certainly don’t deserve less respect than those of my Italian ancestors.

Is Mario Batali the king of TV Chefs? Yes, in my opinion he is. And of course I like Bobby Flay, Emeril Lagasse, Jamie Oliver, Chen Kenichi, Anne Burrell, Gordon Ramsay, Michael Symon, and the list goes on. But three of my newest favorites are lacking the pedigree of those chefs.

The Neelys and Aaron McCargo don’t cook Italian food. They don’t cook French food. They cook American food. Food, which arose from our shared poor and/or middle class, multicultural roots. Sure, Aaron can make Steak au Poivre (he’s a talented cook), but he isn’t afraid to use Velveeta cheese. And the Neelys aren’t afraid to use copious amounts of white granulated sugar. They’re cooking real American food and I can attest to how good it is. It’s not fancy Italian food (kind of an oxymoron anyway), but it is flipping delicious.

Our blue-collar American roots may not be as romantic as my Nonno’s Italian roots but, the food which arose from our roots should be preserved and cherished—no different than the Italian food Chef Batali tries to preserve.

P.S. The Neely’s BBQ sauce is the best I have ever had—by far. Here’s the recipe.

5-6 lb. roaster chicken
2 whole lemons
salt
pepper
4 tbsp. melted butter

Clean, rinse and dry chicken. Use small skewers and lace up rear with kitchen string; tie legs against body as well. Roll lemons on countertop, squeezing to loosen the flesh inside. Pierce repeatedly with sharp-tined fork. Salt and generously pepper the abdominal cavity of chicken and place both lemons inside. Skewer and lace up the neck of the chicken. Baste chicken all over with melted butter.

Place on a rack in roaster pan in 450º preheated oven. Reduce heat immediately to 350º. After half an hour, baste frequently until done (internal temperature of 180-185º, or about 20-25 minutes per pound). Allow to rest 10-15 minutes before carving; serve with the wonderful, lemony drippings.

And another nod to my favorite chef for this recipe!

*Status: I have condom lubricant on my fingertips, but no, I have not been having sex.  I have been attending a Channels of Hope training which is a motivational workshop for church/religious leaders about HIV & AIDS for the past two days and we learned how to properly apply condoms on our own fingers today.  I will not tell you any more about it until tomorrow once I have completed the entire workshop.

Instead I will write a light post about guacamole and tortilla chips and despair and ultimately happiness. 

Once upon a time in Africa, I bought some avocados in the hopes of making tasty guacamole and partaking with tortilla chips as we did once at Joanne's sixteenth birthday.

But the avos (as they are called here) that I bought were not ripe.  So on remembering an old wives' tale I put them in a paper bag in a cool dark dry place.  After a week they still weren't ripe.  After a week and a half I sought out some avo farming friends who told me that I should wrap them in clothes.  Being too busy even to wrap a t-shirt around my avos I just let them go a few more days in the paper bag.  When...

 Now during this long wait I had already gone and picked up chips so I could be ready the minute the avos were ripe.  I struggled to find tortilla chips from the store but finally found something that looked and felt right.  They said maize (check) and baked not fried (healthy so check).  As you can see...

[caption id="attachment_309" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="You can"][/caption]

 NOT actually see the chips through the bag.  But after a squeeze test I went ahead and bought them.

Immediately after finding the avos were ripe and letting out a wild cry of joy (thankfully one the neighbor didn't hear and come running at) I rushed to open the bag of invisible chips.  When I did, I saw THIS...

This was a travesty.  I let out a primal yell of terror and anger that was much louder than my earlier cry of joy (but again the neighbor didn't come running in fear for my life-we must have nice thick walls here).  Not only were they not corn chips, they were cheese puffs which I usually only eat with three year olds I am babysitting or when I'm starving.

It was already 6:30 that night.  I thought I had approximately thirty minutes including travel time to get myself some tortilla chips or my life would be doomed.  I was desperate, I had waited so long for that guacamole and nothing was going to get in my way!  I frantically searched my mind for the best store to run to in search of corn chips.

I decided to dash off to the mall in search of tortilla chips only to arrive to find all the stores had closed early that night!  Argh again!

In a last chance effort I decided to run to a petrol station to try my luck.  In the end, all I found and all I had to make due with were personal sized bags of oddly flavored Doritos.

Weird Doritos

Chili's
Stratford Commons near Hanes Mall, Winston-Salem, NC

The Food: Three dishes caught Miss Vinegar's eye at first: the Monterey Chicken, the Margarita Grilled Chicken, and the Boneless Buffalo Chicken salad. However, in her zeal to eat something she wouldn't eat on a normal night out at home, Miss Vinegar, Despiser of Onions, ordered...the Buffalo Chicken Fajita.

She'd always wanted, you see, to try a fajita, and seduced by the sizzle and the knowledge that the onions and peppers would definitely be big enough to avoid, she went for it. And it was good: mildly spicy buffalo chicken, bleu cheese crumbles and bacon. There was also a lot of it, which is why Miss Vinegar cannot confirm whether the brownie mini-dessert actually has a small brownie sitting on top.

The Service: Excellent. Miss Vinegar always overtips when eating alone, feeling obscurely that she has to compensate the server for the fact that there is only one of her, but in this case it was deserved.

The Ambience: Mostly red, which in Miss Vinegar's book is a good thing. The restaurant's windows are oriented to make the most of the view of surrounding trees rather than the shopping center behind it, which is also a good thing. Her only objection was to the restaurant art beside her. It's hard not to wonder about a composition depicting winged buffaloes that also depicts armadillos...

Overall: *** (three stars out of five--Miss Vinegar would personally add another half-point for a painless introduction to fajitas)

*Miss Vinegar hastens to say this does not denote a food quality issue; for whatever reason, Poboy and Chili's simply do not get along at the biochemical level.

They seem to be a primarily East Coast/Mid-Atlantic phenomenon, but if you haven't heard of The Fresh Market, Miss Vinegar suggests a peek at the website or the one near you. Like Miss Vinegar's beloved Trader Joe's in that it's a sort of boutique grocery for people who secretly dream of having a baguette sticking out of their shopping bag, The Fresh Market aims for elegance where TJ's aims for...fantastic store brand items and pirates. And as the nearest Trader Joe's is almost 200 miles farther away, Miss Vinegar regards the Fresh Market as her local.

This week, Miss Vinegar's eye was caught by a sale display of the store's own brand of kettle chips, and she tried both the Sour Cream & Onion and the Smokey Bar-B-Que flavors (the latter pictured above). And as much as she wanted to enjoy them, there's a slightly strange, almost citrusy taste underlying both. A look at the back of the bag convinces her that, once again, Healthy Ingredient Syndrome may be at play: that, as with the first brushful of a Tom's of Maine toothpaste, it may require time to adjust to flavors that all have pronounceable names. Still, there is only so much time Miss Vinegar is willing to spend accustoming her palate to potato chips. A valiant effort on The Fresh Market's part, but not quite perfect.

Overall Product Rating: *** (three out of five stars, one given due to the aforementioned syndrome)

Dough:
4 cups flour, plus more at hand for dusting
4 large eggs, room temp.
1 cup warm milk
1/2 cup unsalted butter, melted
1 package instant dry yeast (approx. 2 1/4 tsp.)
1/4 cup sugar
1 1/4 tsp. salt
Optional: 1 tbsp. finely grated zest of one large orange
buttered glass bowl

Filling (to taste):
1 tbsp. ground cinnamon
1 cup packed (light or dark) brown sugar
2-4 tbsp. unsalted butter, melted
1/2 cup chopped pecans or walnuts
1/4 tsp. salt
Optional: 1/2 cup raisins

Icing (to taste):
1/2 cup milk
1 cup powdered sugar

For the dough: add yeast to warm milk and sugar, stir and let sit for 5-10 minutes. Whisk eggs, orange gratings, salt and butter in large bowl, then add and whisk milk. Add approximately 2 cups of flour; stir until moistened and combined.  Add 1 cup of remaining flour and incorporate before adding final cup of flour and mixing well. Turn out on board and knead for 8-10 minutes; dust with flour as needed while kneading. (Dough should feel soft and moist, but not sticky.) Lightly butter a large bowl. Transfer dough to the bowl and turn over, buttered side up. Cover and let double in volume, 2 to 2 1/2 hours. Remove cover, punch dough down a few times to release air; let rest for 5 minutes. Combine brown sugar, cinnamon, chopped nuts and salt; set aside. Be as stingy or generous with filling ingredients as suits your taste.

Butter a 9 x 13 inch baking pan. Turn dough out onto a lightly floured board. Gently shape into a rectangle with the long side nearest you. Roll into 24 x 18 inch rectangle. Brush dough with melted butter, leaving 1/2-inch border along the top edge. Sprinkle filling over dough, leaving a 3/4-inch border along the top edge; gently press filling into dough. Begin with the long edge nearest you, roll the dough into a tight cylinder. Firmly pinch the seam to seal and roll the seam side down. Gently shape to create even thickness. Slice into 1 1/2-inch rolls; yielding 12-18 rolls. Arrange rolls in buttered baking dish; cover tightly with plastic wrap and store in refrigerator overnight; 16-24 hours highly recommended.

Remove rolls from refrigerator and place in warmed microwave/oven. Let the rolls rise until they look slightly puffy; approximately 30 minutes, then remove. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.  (I like to brush with melted butter then...) bake until golden brown, approximately 25-30 minutes. Remove and allow to cool for 10 minutes; top with icing.

Storing: I recommend keeping them in the baking pan covered with plastic wrap and store at room temperature, not in the fridge. When you want to eat some, mop the bottoms of the rolls around in the pan to pick up extra icing, place on a plate bottom side up and lightly warm in microwave.

One final note: the flavor from the orange zest gets stronger over time, hitting a nice peak around day three; if they last that long!

In the end, I think the winner turned out to be the brownie, which is an often overlooked American food, but a goodie (pun intended) nonetheless. And she went home with not just any old brownies. No, I sent Marina on a mission to one of my favorite places in New York City: the industrial-chic gourmet garden that is the Chelsea Market.

This cavernous brick building is lined with some of the best-smelling shops in the city, which in turn sell some of the best-tasting foods. It's also an American food icon in its own right, given that it's the former headquarters of none other than Nabisco, maker of such all-American favorites as the Oreo Cookie and Barnums Animal Crackers. Today it's got something to make any foodie happy, from the creamery to the Italian market. (It is also, I might add, a favorite haunt of the Russo parents when they visit.)

Perhaps the strongest and most decadent smell that comes from the Chelsea Market (disregarding the occasional fragrance of fish, of course) wafts blissfully out of Fat Witch, purveyors of, in their words—and I wholeheartedly agree, "Manhattan Magic," aka the best brownies. Ever. I was first turned on to Fat Witch early in my New York experience by a good friend, Terri, who had it at the top of "must do in Manhattan" list when she visited. One bite of fudgy goodness and I understood why.

These brownies are everything a brownie should be: dense (without being too heavy), chocolately and incredibly delicious. And with varietals so like the Snow Witch (white chocolate brownie) and the Red Witch (with dried cherries) there is one to satisfy every craving. There are even Brownie Babies for those times when "just a bite" is enough (read: NEVER).

And so, off Marina goes to Brazil, with an I Heart NY T-shirt and bag full of Fat Witches. And I, perhaps, have found the alfajor of North America.

I get asked a lot of things. People ask me how I am, what my name is, if I’ll give them money, what my number is, if I can take them to America, if I’ll marry them, if I’m a missionary or if I’m here to “see the Big Five.”

That last question used to confuse me until I went on a safari last weekend. “Safari” technically means “travel” in Swahili but in Kenya it means a lot more than that. “Safaris” are the reason that a lot of people have been relocated from game parks and told that they can no longer hunt in their traditional manner. “Safari” also means tourists, one of Kenya’s main sources of income but a source of income that has been failing of late due to the post-election violence.

The reason for these safaris is to “see the Big Five.” The Big Five are the animals that tourists come to Kenya for: elephants, giraffes, lions and two other ones that I forget. Obviously, the “big five” was not the reason I chose to come to Kenya, in fact, while I enjoyed seeing the animals, my favorite part of the trip had nothing to do with the animals.

The safari was organized by Angie, the FSD Program Director as our midterm retreat. Usually, the FSD interns in Kakamega stay the weekend in the forest but since two interns, James and Joel, live in the forest, she decided to organize it to go somewhere else. She chose to go to Lake Naviasha, an area around 7 hours away by matatu. We stayed in a lake-side resort with lodging and food all paid for by FSD. The resort had hot showers and veggie burgers, both of which were ridiculously exciting as I hadn’t had either in around 2 months.

Friday we spent at Hell’s Gate National Park. For almost three hours we walked on a sandy road excitedly taking pictures of zebras, gazelles, ostriches and warthogs that looked back at us with plain disinterest. They were evidently used to muzungus with cameras, we however, were very much unused to seeing animals in anywhere but behind bars in a zoo. After a picnic lunch, we descended into the “hell” of Hell’s Gate; a deep canyon where hot water poured out from deep below the earth’s surface, forming hot springs that splashed us with hot water, giving us our second hot shower of the day. As fun as it is, hell is quite tiring; after we emerged from the canyon and completed the hike that our guide told us that we had just walked 12 miles. Needless to say, we slept really, really well.

On Saturday we took a boat over to Crater Lake National Park. This time, instead of walking through an arid savannah surrounded by cragged rocks, we were walking through a forest. There wasn’t any visible path but our guide wound in and out of the trees, stopping us ever so often to point out a herd of animals. We saw lots of different types of gazelles, including the biggest gazelle in Africa, whose name I really forget. But the coolest thing by far was running into a herd of giraffe.

We literally ran into the clearing after our guide, Moses, pointed out that the tall brown things ahead of us weren’t actually moving trees. Scrambling for our cameras, we jostled each other as we tried to fake stealth while going as fast as we could over crackling branches.

The giraffes were plainly thinking “oh no, not again” as they slowly arose from the ground on which many of them had been sitting and half-heartedly started to walk away from the ten eager tourists. I took picture after picture until I finally calmed down and realized that all my pictures were of the same thing; the giraffes weren’t doing much besides idly chewing as they watched us freak out.

Finally, our guide managed to persuade us to calm down and continue hiking so that we could be on time for lunch. That statement is ironic for two reasons. First, a group of 10 twenty-somethings is seldom calm and our group tends to be exceptionally loud. Second, lunch was 2 hours late. I think we probably arrived late (something to be expected in Kenya) but even though we ordered ahead we spent at least two hours waiting for our food.

This sort of tardiness to (comparatively) rich tourists is not to be expected in Kenya but is yet another problem that can be blamed on the post-election violence. Apparently, during the violence the owners of the restaurant had to flee for their lives as they were “of the wrong tribe.” This is a tragedy often told, Kenya’s countryside is still littered with Internationally Displaced Persons (IDP) camps full of people who were made to leave everything and now are either too scared to return home or have no home to return to.

For us, this meant that the new owners had been financially unable to hire very many staff and so our simple tomato and onion sandwiches took their sweet (or rather savory) time. Stupidly, we complained to Angie, who told us the reason for our inconvenience, making us grimace in shame when we compared the inconvenience of waiting for food in a restaurant with the inconvenience of waiting for a place to live in a refugee camp.

Back at our lodge, over a wonderfully American dinner of salad and spaghetti, we began to talk of a different “Big Five.”

Inside a book that has become my bible, titled “The End of Poverty,” Jeffery Sachs writes that there should be more talk in Africa of five different development interventions that “would spell the difference between hunger, disease, and death and health and economic development.” (Sachs, 232)According to Sachs, there are 5 different things that donor countries should invest in and developing nations should promote:

1. Agricultural Inputs

He argues that fertilizers and improved farming techniques are essential to allowing people to live more than a life of just basic subsistence. This is definitely true in Kenya where 80 % of the population is engaged in agriculture. One of the interns, Walker, received a grant to organize a workshop for HIV-positive farmers to learn from a local agriculture school. Once people can produce more food than they need just to feed themselves, they can engage in trade and start investing those profits in things like chickens that will further enrich them through eggs and perhaps even more trade.

1. Investments in basic health

According to a recent news article I read, there are more Ethiopian doctors in Chicago than there are in the whole of Ethiopia. In Kenya, 90 per cent of the medical personnel migrate to the West every year. At the same time, Africa is spending $ 4 billion annually to employ 100,000 Western experts. The answer is simple: instead of hiring Western doctors, train community health workers. The training shouldn’t take more than a year to teach them basic health, enough so that they can serve their community but aren’t likely to migrate elsewhere.

1. Investments in education.

In Kenya, primary and secondary education are free. However, parents still have to pay heavily for books and uniforms. Even more troubling, the children often don’t eat lunch as neither their parents nor the schools can feed them. Hungry kids don’t learn well, some aid should go to free school lunches.

1. Power, transport and communications services

The biggest one here is roads. Most of the roads in Kenya remind me of the Indiana Jones ride at Disneyland, they are just as bumpy and traveling on them definitely makes me hang on for dear life. The roads aren’t just an inconvenience to muzungu tourists, they are also are a severe impediment to economic development. Think about it: goods are priced higher as a result of the incredibly high transport cost and in the rainy season commerce can literally stop if the roads become impassably muddy.

1. Safe drinking water and sanitation

This is a duh. It’s the liquid of life!

So I guess what I’m trying to say is that as awesome as it was to see all those animals, I’m much more interested in seeing poor people attain a basic standard of living than I am in frantically taking pictures of a bored-looking giraffe.

Anyhow I think perhaps we're on to something with the BBQ sauce suggestion, and I will definitely check into root beer as well, which makes me think of an interesting travel tidbit. Many moons ago, when I spent a month in the car with two college girlfriends gallivanting across the country, we found ourselves in Atlanta.

Now, there is much to see and do in Atlanta, but when you're just passing through you must be selective. Here is what we chose to do: 1) gorge ourselves on everything Johnny Rockets had to offer since we hadn't eaten in, I think it was 22 hours? 2) Wander around downtown and in Underground Atlanta, which happens to be a pretty cool, uh...shopping mall. And 3) Visit the World of Coca Cola. Yes, there is actually a World of Coca Cola, and in that world one learns various facts about the sweet carbonated substance. The most memorable part, however, was neither the "world's largest collection of Coke memorabilia," nor was it the "fully functioning bottling line," but the tasting room.

At the end of the tour one finds oneself in a tasting room with more than 60 different varietals of soda. Yes, we tasted various types of coke and coke-like products from all over the world, including, but not limited to, some terrible concoction made with an excess of ginger (no, it was not ginger ale) that I remember coming from Italy. At the end of our tour around the world via coke we were all—as can only be imagine after 60-plus tastings of random sticky sweet substances, AND more Johnny Rockets than is USDA recommended—feeling rather sick.

A few conclusions to this story:

1) It hadn't occurred to me (or for a long time at least) how much the varietals of soda can be definitive of different cultures. In Spain, for example, I was addicted to Fanta Mandarina, even though I never drank orange soda at home. Fanta Mandarina is entirely different, and I even tried Orange Fanta in South America, but it simply wasn't the same.

2) Today I discovered that Inca Kola is also made by Coca Cola, (but has its own, very cool, site), meaning that I most likely tasted ithe electric green substance which is ubiquitous in Peru, many years ago; in Atlanta of all places. For those who are wondering, Inca Kola resembles Mountain Dew in color, but is much more similar to Cream Soda in taste. That or bubblegum.

3) Root Beer might just be the thing for Marina to take home, though I worry about her suitcase.

4) Thinking about the World of Coke reminds me why I don't really drink soda any more. Except when I'm in a foreign place and have to try their version...

But then there are times when something will happen to make you realize how small the world really is. Like, for example, when you meet a girl in Buenos Aires (who happens to be from London), and she then becomes a great friend. It's an even smaller world when that initial girl emails and says that her friend (who happens to be from Brazil) is going to be in New York.

And so one Sunday afternoon you find yourself in the Lower East Side (of New York) drinking beer (from Belgium) with Marina (from Brazil) who met Liz (from London) at Carnaval (in Brazil)—and you're all linked through Argentina (from which no one involved happens to hail). Whew. Looks like travel makes it a small world after all. Sorry for annoying song reference. It was inevitable.

True story? Funny you should ask. Yes. It most certainly is a true story. I showed lovely Marina around New York on Sunday, and marveled at her marveling at New York (and the fact that she had yet to meet a New Yorker who was actually from New York). Then on Tuesday I went with Marina to see the New York Philharmonic play (for free) in Central Park. Through her met numerous other small world souls (from all over the world) through an organization called Couchsurfing, which requires a blog all it's own but for today's purposes helps travelers meet people and find free places to stay (making the world less expensive and thus smaller).

And now for the conundrum. The great thing about having someone in town who isn't even from America is that you really get to see New York (and the US) through a different lens. And you find yourself explaining things that seem so commonplace, such as leaving your credit card at the bar to keep a tab open and what is a Zagat.

But then there was a question I couldn't answer. "What types of food are very American?" Simple enough, right? Hot dog. Apple pie. Watermelon? (And then I get stuck in things like hamburgers that seem repetitive.) But it turns out there was more to the question: one goes to Italy and brings home Limoncello; you get champagne from France, alfajores from Argentina (you didn't think I'd not mention those, did you?). But what should Marina take back to Brazil from America?

And hence the conundrum. I have no answer. She surely wouldn't bring back hot dogs. Or apple pie or watermelon for that matter. Bourbon is American, but who wants to bring that back? If she were in San Francisco I would suggest Ghirardelli chocolate, but given we're in New York that won't do. And thus I'm stumped. So. Thoughts? If anyone can shed light on this little dilemma, please, please enlighten me. And Marina.

I seldom eat at Swenson's restaurant any more since my JC days. The previous few times I visited was when I was working at Youth.SG. We dined at Swenson's for quite a few birthday celebrations as it's one of the more commonly accessible halal restaurants.

A few weeks ago, Rachel and I went for a simple meal at Swenson's, Toa Payoh Entertainment Centre as I got some vouchers to use up. I took some photos of the food we ordered, and they turn out looking surprising good, haha.

Taste-wise... since Botak Jones is just opposite of my work place, I already found a cheaper and better alternative to unhealthy, hi-cholesterol American food. Hence, no thanks. I probably won't be going back in a while. :p

Technorati Tags: alvinology, swenson's, swenson's reataurant, singapore, botak jones, burger, sandwich, sundae, american food

Head on to the post entitled The Top 10 Foods Only America Could Have Invented over in Endless Simmer - A Food Blog.

Punjab Restaurant is where I've been kicking it for cheap Chinese food since I was 15. I've never asked about the place's age but no one in the neighborhood can remember when Punjab wasn't around. A friend of mine introduced me to the place shortly after I landed in foster care during 1999. That year absolutely sucked but was made tolerable by the good food and good company at Punjab's. It's not a fancy place. There are lots of windows, a cafeteria type eating area and a ton of plants everywhere. It's relatively clean for a San Francisco restaurant and I've never had to take Pepto after eating there.

As a disclaimer I'm using a menu I grabbed off of the counter on June 24, 2008. Prices can change anytime as well as the menu. If there's a difference between my review and what's going on at Punjab when you visit Bob's your uncle you've been warned.

Since I always seem to be broke I love Punjab's prices. The 34 lunch specials start at $5.50 and creep up to $6.95 for the two seafood dishes. After 3:30pm the specials only climb $1.25 in price. They come with the soup of the day and steamed rice. Fried rice or chow mein can be added for a small cost. These meals are enough to fill me up, and frankly, I eat like a pig.

Then there are Felicia's combination plates! These range from $6.00 to $9.50 each and are preset meals. They come with an entrée or two, an occasional appetizer & some type of fried rice. There's still the option of ordering family style and sharing however many dishes one would like with the rest of the table. A la cart pricing starts at $6.50 to $9.25 per dish.

Don't feel like Chinese food for dinner? Then grab a New York steak or fish ‘n chips. There's a small American menu with a dozen or so entrees (all American entrees come with the soup of the day and a choice of sides) and an assortment of sandwiches. French fries are the cheapest at $2.60 a serving and the New York steak is about $10.25.

We even went into this 'all you can eat' place by accident and I thought, wow, is this really necessary. Greasy food, epic portions and the over abundance of fried, cheesed and hot fries on food just really turned me off American food. I was glad to get back to London and the less complicated, Europeanish style food here. Wraps and salads have never been more appealing. We also had some dodgy sushi that I am still queasy over.

However, while in San Francisco we did indulge in some of the local 'delicacies'. It can really be said that I have a fondness for novelty foods, I don't know why but they always seem more interesting and delicious than regular foods. Hence my delight at sushi and fondue. Novelty was thus the reason for these two beauts!

This was the Shrimpers Heaven at the Bubba Gump Shrimp Restaurant in Fisherman's Wharf.  4 kinds of shrimp in these awesome holders! I think I can hear everyone in the food blogging community collectively groan at that. Come on, I had to try it - it would have been criminal not to. But man, it was horrible and filling. You ask how can I complain about American food when I order stuff like this, I agree, it really is my own fault.  C got a stuffed crab, shrimp cheese thing that came with and fries and a side salad. We were so full and we left most of it behind. The server asked did we want a box for it, I was like, dude I may never eat again and I definitely don't want to eat that again. He was like, okay how about dessert?

This was clam chowder in a sourdough bowl, again in Fisherman's Wharf, really THE place for novelty foods. It was actually quite good, not the best chowder ever, but tasty enough. The restaurant specialises in their sourdough bread and it was sour. We often get sourdough baguettes over here, but I didn't realise they were actually meant to taste like that. Because they don't, at all. So I was a bit taken aback by the sourness of the bread and it wasn't really to my liking at all.

So the verdict on San Francisco was that the food wasn't at all amazing and I am definitely not judging it on these places, but on all the meals we had there. Overall, not an amazing selection or excellent quality. We didn't find that many different places to try, though C did have an interesting yoghurt dip thing in the Mission.  Perhaps I am too biased by European food. Thoughts?

My first reactions...

The Title.

"The Omnivore's Dilemma"

What catches everyone is the title - and the book's cover. I, and other readers, have made countless judgements about the nature of a book based on its cover and title. For example:

I would read the book on the right, but not the book on the left. Of course, comparing a book to 1984 is unfair; but, it illustrates my point.

The title of Pollan's book invokes a politically cliché issue for me. First, an Omnivore eats organisms from as many biological kingdoms as they can stomach. Vegetarians might criticize those who choose to be omnivores, asking how omnivores can be so cruel, destructive, exploitive, wasteful, etc. Which leads to a possible dilemma for omnivores - how can the omnivore eat what they want and justify their actions. Thus, the title misleadingly portrays the book as defense of the Vegetarian view point.

Of course, it could also be describing a food crisis facing the modern world. Or man. Thus, it might actually be interesting.

This is why I have a back-up method of judging a book. The old adage, "Don't judge a book by it's cover" only applies to the Front Cover. The back cover is useful. It contains the blurb.

I was immediate grabbed by the phrases:

• "buffed by one food fad after another, America is suffering"
• "The question of what to have for dinner has confronted"
• "politics, perils, and pleasures of eating"

This isn't some mere "Go Vegan!" or "Biofuels harms the food industry" or "No GE Crops" story. The back cover reveals that this book is (hopefully) an exploration of the culture and society surrounding American food and American diets.

Hopefully it lives up to this promise. I, rather, we will see as I read.

Next time: Battlestar Galactica; Why High Gas Prices are Good, More Corn Men

"Enjoy the full flavour of American Dining! Kick back and savour the authentic taste and flavours of . . . genuine hotdogs flavoured with tomato relish, western style pizza, and much more. Why not host a movie night and invite some friends round to feast on the delights of our American special offers! As the movie draws to a close serve up some warm blueberry muffins and irresistible marshmallow figures!"

Ah, that brings back the memories of watching movies while eating blueberry muffins and eating marshmallow figures. Well, really, I was a bit confused until I looked a few pages on and saw that "marshmallow figures" appear to be marshmallows in a "variety of figures and shapes" such as a cow or a snow cone on a stick.

A few other products include the potato crisps in "zesty Texan, beef chilli [sic] or crinkle cut barbecue flavours," all billed as "quintessential American potato crisps." Also sold under the McEnnedy American Way brand were cheese and onion baguettes, barbecue ketchup and hot dog ketchup (imagine I never knew there were two kinds!), hot dog sausages in a jar (the only way you can buy them here, and with the explanatory note, "Combine with toasted hot dog bun & extra toppings for a great snack"), that aforementioned Western Style Pizza (which seems to have corn on it), and barbecue marshmallows (which I'm sorry to say don't appear to be barbecue flavoured at all but seem to be made for toasting).

Again, I don't know if the misperception of American food is Irish or German in nature, but we have seen some oddities on American-themed restaurant menus here in Ireland. Many places seem to think if you put an American icon's name on a product ("try the Marilyn Monroe sandwich") it's American, no matter if the food is anything ever eaten by an American since the creation of the Republic. Some restaurants get it almost right, and then have small mistakes like serving a burger with both French Fries and onion rings, rather than offering a choice between the two, or offering "tomato relish" rather than ketchup.

Another interesting choice available from one of the shops in the English Market is Vermont curry. I know you Americans are all thinking, "Well, it won't be authentic Vermont curry."

BOTAK JONES
30 Woodlands Ave 1 (Kopitiam)
#01-11 Stalls 2/3
Singapore 739065
Phone / Fax: 68944225
Everyday 11:30 am till 10:00 pm (last orders)

The Good...
I never know they opened at 11.30am. Perhaps their business are really very good and by evening, all the side-dish really finish by then. But maybe they should inform us in advance or perhaps should have more inventories in that case....

Peaceful Meal?
Was mentioning about their side-dish and they mode of payment. It really 'pissed' me because everytime, I am the one who pays, and I really HAVE NO PEACE, cannot have a GOOD MEAL, but 'wondering' about my change, and having to put my utensils aside each time I handle MONEY. It is craziness, how they manage their 'system'.

But it is not PEOPLE I am targeting. It is the WAY, the Management and HOW things are done that bother me; and the FRESHNESS of food that they provide.

They always tried their best.... FELT

Was really at the point where I need to 'broadcast'. Was talking about it to Richard, and perhaps the waitors/waitresses heard, but it is a fact. A fact is a fact.

Happy Father's Day
The familiar face waitress, always smiling face, walked towards us when we finished our food. Richard asked for more fries today, and he was still eating the fries. The lady said we are regular customers and for For Father's Day, she gave us this box of cakes.

Best Gift Is In The Food Itself
She told us it was two pieces of Cheese Cakes. There was another occasion, another young man who gave us cheese cakes and extra fries too. That was the day where the food was SUPER LONG being served. The waiting time was more than 30 minutes and perhaps even more. However, I never like cheese cakes, never. NOBODY in my family likes cheesecakes also.

'Gift' that we did not ask for....
Just now, I gave the children these two cakes -- opened for them, but still they returned to me. In order not to waste, I tried a bit. Really don't like it -- To me is not nice, the children also don't like this kind of 'taste' and the 'texture'. So does Richard.

Special Intentions Felt... Grateful Still
Anyway, we are still thankful to Botak Jones. They are good, but can be better. We would still patronize them, but HOPE they can really look into this matter. Otherwise, I cannot assure IF I would continue to go there.

It was Monday on Finals Week that Pierre called me on my cell phone, asking me if I wanted to meet up and have a lunch, and that's what I did. We went to a restaurant called STONEFIRE Grill with Will and Jackie, and that's scary Will in the picture with the pizza. Haha.

The restaurant had these salad bowls that you eat with a group of people (it is too big to eat alone), and the salad made me think of a taco salad. It was very good.

» STONEFIRE Grill
9229 Winnetka Avenue
Chatsworth, CA 91331

I held off posting this for a while, but what the hell. You know, I really don't care for hot dogs that much. As a kid, I despised them. You couldn't force me to eat a hot dog and I can promise you, it had nothing to do with any of the stereotypical reasons you might think of. Not the food with a face hangup; not the fear of lips and snouts or intestinal casings. I just never had a good hot dog.

I'm not saying that the hot dogs at the Varsity Jr. are necessarily the best either - but I do like them. I still avoid eating them very often; again for none of the reasons above or anything mentioned by GoVeg (I've mentioned them once on this blog - I refuse to give them anymore publicity by including a link. BTW, I'm very proud of you all - the stats don't show a single reader clicking on the link to GoVeg). It's mostly that I just don't feel good after eating that much salt (and this he writes while cramming down Chinese pork dumplings with 670mg of sodium...).

But alas, I think I've found a way. The last time I stopped by the Varsity was right after a fast climb and descent of Stone Mountain on a blazing hot day. Sweating out a pound of salt not only makes The Varsity taste better, but it makes it healthy as well - gotta get those electrolytes back (I know, I know - just let me run with it...).

Varsity Jr.
1085 Lindbergh Dr NE
Atlanta, GA 30324
(404) 261-5200

Call me Zontar. You can find my blog here. Zontar welcomes all to click on his link, and I promise you will be sore amazed at the intelligence and wonder therein.

I was born many years ago on Xenon, a lovely planet in the Houyhnmian Galaxy, approximately 3000 trillion light years from planet Earth. I excelled in Dominoes as a youngster and was named top champion for all galaxies as a tot. I grew up into a beautiful young alien and married 34,223 beautiful wives, all of whom are extremely fertile and blessed me with 158,233 children.

Mom's Beef Croquettes

Filling:
8 cups roast beef, cooked and diced
4 cups binding béchamel sauce
salt
pepper
spring onion
lemon juice
2-3 cups ritz cracker crumbs or bread crumbs
2-3 whipped eggs

* Béchamel—binding
1 cup milk
3 tbsp. butter
1/3 cup flour
1 carrot slice
1 onion slice
1-2 bay leaves
2 cloves
4-5 peppercorns
1 mace 1 egg

* Ratio: 2 cups meat to 1 cup sauce

Let milk stand for at least one hour with veggies and spices, then bring to a short simmer, strain and keep over low heat.

Melt butter with flour and cook over low heat for 3-4 minutes until smooth. Remove from heat, pour about 1/4 cup milk in, stirring vigorously, then continue to add rest of milk while stirring. Replace over medium heat and stir while cooking until sauce thickens. Season to taste, add the egg and mix very well. Cook for 2-3 more minutes.

Croquettes: Season roast beef with salt, pepper, spring onion and lemon to taste. Mix in béchamel sauce and chill overnight.

Take a generous spoonful and use hands to form an oversized egg-shaped, cylindrical croquette. Roll croquette in crumbs, then egg, then crumbs. Chill overnight before cooking or freeze.

Deep fry in peanut oil at 350° until golden brown. If croquettes are frozen, thaw partially, not entirely before cooking—about 2-3 hours. Some folks might enjoy a rich, brown gravy spooned over the croquettes; my family preferred drizzling with freshly squeezed lemon juice while piping hot.

Makes 36-48 croquettes; frozen croquettes keep quite well in freezer bags.

I have no idea if this is an “original” American recipe. But this was my, by request, traditional birthday dinner. I always thought I was pretty smart because it meant the family got to have roast beef one night and then beef croquettes made from the left over roast another night. My mother made this dish for me for many years. She’s American, so I figure that makes this an American dish.