Category Archives: Food

August 18, 2010 · 8:21 am

Feelin’ frutti

If I know one thing about my readers, it’s that they like walking down Memory Lane now and then. After two days of preaching about punctuation, let’s take a walk, shall we?

I’ve been sick for about a week with a debilitating sinus infection. If you’ve ever had one, you know it can cripple your brain and cloud your thinking. In fact, I think this one has cut off some neural pathways altogether and opened up some that have been dormant for decades.

Out of the blue yesterday, while struggling to remember something important, I remembered Funny Face instant flavored drink mix.

Who remembers Funny Face? To put in perspective how long ago it was on the market, the label brags about the drink being free of Cyclamate, an artificial sweetener that was banned around 1970 for causing cancer in rats. I recall at the time, imagining a rat drinking Funny Face through a tiny straw.

The makers of Funny Face were ahead of their time in giving the various flavors way-out names. In fact, some were later changed, likely for their political incorrectness. My friends and I assigned flavors to each other. Sadly, I was Freckle Face Strawberry. I guess that was better than Goofy Grape or Loud-Mouth Lime. Other flavors included Lefty Lemonade, Rootin’ Tootin’ Raspberry, Chinese Cherry (later renamed Choo-Choo Cherry), Injun Orange (later renamed Jolly Olly Orange), Captain Black Cherry, Rah! Rah! Root Beer, Pistol Pink Lemonade (huh?), Rudy Tutti Frutti and With-It Watermelon.

Just remembering the carefree days of Funny Face relieved my sinus pressure, at least temporarily.

Another flavor I crave from my childhood is Maypo hot cereal. I think they brought it back once, but I’m not sure it’s available any longer. As crummy as I feel today, I might just cry, “I want my Maypo!”

What flavors from your childhood would you give your eye teeth to taste just once more?

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July 30, 2010 · 8:05 am

In Memoriam: Darrin Beachy

Of the special things we could truly count on in life, one was going to Rehoboth Beach, Delaware–and to Espuma restaurant–and having the great pleasure of being served by Darrin Beachy.  Every year for the last 10 years, my husband, friends and I have made a point of having dinner there.  The creative fare was about 40 percent of the reason.  Darrin was the other 60 percent.

Yesterday, when I told you about Darrin in my blog post, I had no idea he had passed away suddenly in June, at the age of 42.  Darrin might have been part owner at one time, or the business partner of chef Jay Caputo, but he was a big part of what Espuma does well–taking the highest quality raw ingredients, treating them with love and respect, and creating culinary masterpieces unlike any other.  The restaurant is tiny, so he also served patrons in the dining room.

As I said yesterday, while the printed menu is simple, listing only the ingredients, Darrin made the menu come alive.  Slowly and quietly, he took you through every delicious detail of how the food was prepared, in such a personal story that you were on that boat with the fishermen or in the fields picking the produce at its ripest moment.  When you ate at Espuma, you didn’t take leftovers, because you never left a morsel on your plate, but you always took a bit of Darrin with you.

When we went last summer, we were disappointed to learn that, because Darrin had won a series of bartending awards, he had moved behind the bar to serve his famous homemade cocktails.  We sat at the bar before dinner that night. Darrin’s Italian Mojito, made with his homemade limoncello and fresh basil, was the best drink I’ve ever had.  In fact, ever since last summer, I have tried unsuccessfully to replicate it and was planning to stop by in August and ask him to give me a lesson.

I cannot imagine Rehoboth without Darrin.  I just know when we go in August, it will feel a lot less Beachy.

Here’s to you, Darrin, my friend.  Thanks for giving us good times, good food and a bit of yourself.  If I could, I’d toast you with an Italian Mojito.

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July 29, 2010 · 7:47 am

Poetry for the palate

When I started this blog, I promised to share occasional samples of good writing, whether by poets, authors, journalists or songwriters.  Today I’d like to add restaurant chefs and the menu writers who staff them.  I enjoy good food as much as I do reading and writing, so any occasion to combine these interests is a welcome treat.

It used to be that the best restaurants were as creative in presenting their gourmet creations on a printed menu as they were in presenting them on the plate. 

One playful, alliterative chef might have portrayed his gnocchi as a “platter of petite potato pillows,” while another balanced his bounteous entrée with “braised baby bok choy.”

I tingle reading about tender young reeds of California asparagus and glistening flecks of pesto.  Once, at Janos in Tucson, I actually wept when mushroom baklava was paired with a demitasse of consommé, silhouetted on the dinner plate in pistachio dust.  Such artistic wonder could never be captured in mere words.

Things have changed.  It seems nowadays, fine dining menus no longer offer poetic descriptions.  The food stands on its own.

On one hand, omitting excessive verbs and adjectives puts the spotlight where many believe it belongs–on the food itself.  This is effective when exotic or rare ingredients might otherwise be overshadowed by flowery language.

Examples of a straight menu include:

Restaurant Eve, Alexandria, Va. – Sautéed Sugar Toads with Glazed Sunchokes, Castelvetrano Olives and Espelette Pepper Aïoli.  Or Wild Chicken of the Woods Mushroom Custard with Roasted Morels, Porcinis, Chanterelle Foam Feuilles de Bric Crisps and Micro Beet Greens.

The French Laundry, Yountville, Calif. – Four Story Hill Farm Cuisse de Poularde, Kanzuri Mousse, Akita Komachi Rice, Broccolini, Cashews, Shishito Peppers and Sauce Japonaise.  Or Tartare of Japanese Toro with Sea Urchin, Razor Clams, Cucumber, Hawaiian Hearts of Palm, Thai Basil, Coconut and Lime Aigre-Doux.

Charlie Trotter’s, Chicago – Steamed Tasmanian Ocean Trout with Green Tea and Coriander Dusted Garbanzo Beans, followed by Meiwa Kumquats with Frozen Meringue and Cured Black Olives.

On the other hand, a straight menu takes half the fun out of the restaurant experience.  In my quirky circle of family and friends, we make a parlor game out of going around the table and doing dramatic readings of the menu. 

One of my favorite restaurants is Espuma in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware, where the printed menu does the cuisine no justice whatsoever.  Rather, your dinner choices are brought to life by the waiter, who vividly recounts how fishermen brought in their fresh catch that very morning; how the afternoon sun fell upon, at an acute angle, the wild blueberries that are lovingly tucked into the shortcake (garnished, by the way, with an orange-thyme biscuit, cantaloupe carpaccio, citrus granite and EVOO); or how the Classic Three-day Berkshire Pork made it to the platter, in a day-by-day account of its journey.  Don’t even ask about the Duet of Hudson Valley Duck or you’ll be weepy for the rest of the night.

Do you have favorite menu descriptions that have remained in your memory over the years, or can you suggest any eateries that still playfully present poetry on their pages?

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July 17, 2010 · 8:52 am

Never on Sunday

What’s your favorite fast food restaurant?  Okay, okay, if you had no other option but to eat on the run, what would be your choice? 

Mine is Chick fil-A.  I’ve totally bought into their Save the Cow campaign, EAT MOR CHIKIN (I won’t fault a cow for poor spelling).  But also, even though I’ve got no beef with beef, those nasty fast food burgers can pretty hard to choke down.

My husband’s a McDonald’s man, so when we’re on the road, that’s where we go.  All hail the Dollar Menu.

But when it’s my choice alone, I choose the Chick.

For better or worse, Chick-fil-A is different from the other chains in three ways that I can discern.  One, the place offers no hamburgers.  I am sure their chicken sandwiches are loaded with fat and calories and all kinds of nasty stuff, but they taste pretty good on their buttered buns after a long stretch in the car.  Two, their employees bend over backwards to be nice and helpful.  Three, they are not open, and apparently never will be, on Sundays.

They take a lot of heat for it too.  From mall owners and customers for obvious reasons, but also from a few employees and observers who criticize the staunch position held by company founder S. Truett Cathy, a devout Christian who remains firm in his position to put family and worship ahead of business.  Over the years, the company has gotten in some legal and PR hot water for some of its policies.  I just hope the company is taking these seriously and treating people fairly.

That aside, though, it is hard to fault a business owner for closing down one day a week, for whatever reason.

In a recent interview for Advertising Age magazine, Chick-fil-A’s vice president of marketing David Salyers was asked what he thought would  you think would happen first, a hamburger on the menu, or a Chick-fil-A opening on a Sunday? Salyers answered, “Definitely a hamburger on the menu.  Not even close.”

I too take Sundays off, in part as my own Sabbath observation and in part to rest, renew and be better at what I do.  I just hope my CHIKIN cravings pop up on the other six days.

See you Monday.

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July 3, 2010 · 7:46 am

Two if by sea

As we approach our country’s 234th birthday, it’s appropriate to reflect on the significance of Independence Day. 

My educational frame of reference for American independence centers chiefly around a film we were shown in grade school.  I have been trying to remember the name so I can dig up a copy.  The film was black and white and grainy, but it painted a pretty vivid picture of the events leading up to the formation of the United States as an independent nation.  So when this holiday rolls around, that film rolls in my head.

The Fourth of July is also my younger brother’s birthday.  When he was little he used to sing, “A real live Matthew of my Uncle Sam, born on the Fourth of July,” while watching fireworks at the neighborhood celebration he thought was being thrown in his honor.

Living in the nation’s capital, the Fourth used to mean hearing the Beach Boys playing on the National Mall, and a long, crowded Metro ride home.  Sometimes it’s a crab feast or a pool party or a visit to the National Archives.  Fireworks?  Don’t hate me, but I could take ’em or leave ’em. 

Even though our nation might at times seem like it’s going somewhere in one big hand-basket, with oil spills and wars and political infighting over the freedoms we hold dear, my holiday wish is that for one day we Americans can cool off with a Good Humor Bomb Pop, sing Kumbaya and appreciate how good we have it.

As I trust the Founding Fathers would have intended, I’ll be at the Jersey shore.

Word Nymph doesn’t post on Sundays, but she wishes you a Happy Independence Day.

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June 30, 2010 · 7:58 am

One less product to buy

Do we really need to go over this?

I have received suggestions from readers that I review the rule for “fewer” versus “less.”  I confess, I dismissed these because the rule is clear and I assumed most people knew the difference.  I am sorry to say I was wrong.

Last week I said I wouldn’t be taking Boniva or buying Honey Bunches of Oats for the same reason:  my boycott of products whose commercials contain grammatical errors.  Now I must add to the list MGD 64, the dieters’ version of Miller Genuine Draft.  According to its current television commercial, MGD 64 has “less calories” than other reduced-calorie beers.

I am too tired to rant again so soon over the ad industry’s growing disregard for correct language.  Instead, might I just ask, why not say “fewer calories?”   I am tempted to believe it is less an oversight than it is a presumption that “fewer” flies over the heads of Miller’s target demographic.  Please tell me I’m wrong.

Is it possible that advertising companies intentionally use poor grammar to appeal to a specific class of consumers?  The ad gurus at Grey Poupon hit their high-brow target with their famous commercial years ago.  Pardon me, but it seems Miller is deliberately going for a less sophisticated crowd with its overt illiteracy.

Everyone knows “less” refers to an amount of something, as in less beer.  “Fewer” refers to a number of something, as in “fewer calories.” 

Less snow, fewer snowflakes.  Less hair, fewer strands.  Yes, got it.

Now can we move on to something a little less obvious?

Postscript:  Speaking of intentional poor grammar, am I the only one wondering why yesterday South Carolina Senator Lindsey Graham phrased his question to Supreme Court nominee Elena Kagan, “Where were you at on Christmas Day?”  He knows better.

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June 24, 2010 · 7:50 am

Modern maturity

I have gotten used to the notion of a United States president who is younger than I am.  I sat through many Back-to-School Night presentations by 22-year-old teachers, without judging.  I am even okay with being older than Supreme Court justice nominee Elena Kagan.

But I got a kick-in-the-gut blow as I pulled the AARP Magazine out of the mailbox and saw on the cover Valerie Bertinelli, who happens to be four months and 10 days younger than I.  By the way, she’s five days older than Elena Kagan.

AARP The Magazine comes addressed to my husband, though I am AARP-eligible.  I never had the guts to peel back the cover until yesterday—had to read about Valerie.   After all, her 1970s TV character, Barbara Cooper, and I were practically sisters.

The reason I never ventured inside the magazine?  I just knew there’d be articles about all sorts of scary aging topics, and the ads – nothing I’d need, to be sure.

I was surprised.  There’s an article on Sex and the City’s Cynthia Nixon and her work in promoting cancer research.  She’s 44, in case you were wondering.  A big picture of George Clooney appears just inside the front cover.  What for?  Does it really matter?  There’s a nice piece on microbreweries around the country and a funny interview with Dave Barry.  I also learned that Sean Penn, a famed member of Hollywood’s Brat Pack, will turn 50 this summer.

The writing is pretty edgy too.

The ads?  No Depends, or Metamucil or Geritol (do they even make Geritol anymore?).   It’s no surprise that there are plenty of ads for AARP products and services, including motorcycle insurance.  There’s an ad for an AARP-sponsored concert featuring Gladys Knight, B.B. King, Los Lobos, Gloria Gaynor, Crosby, Stills & Nash and Richie Havens.  There’s also an ad for Dr. Scholl’s.  I know firsthand that those feel really good on 50-year-old feet but then I also wore their exercise sandals when I was 14.

The magazine’s featured recipe is for tandoori chicken, whereas I expected any recipe offered by AARP would involve smothering something in cream of mushroom soup.

And guess what else?  A big fat crossword puzzle!

I’m thinking I might need my own subscription.

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June 23, 2010 · 7:50 am

Summer smellstice

Yesterday The Washington Post showcased, in a photo essay of sorts on the front page, how various cultures around the world celebrated the summer solstice.  Twenty thousand revelers watched the sun rise at Stonehenge, a man in Tel Aviv ran in 94-degree heat as the sun set over the Mediterranean Sea, throngs of yogis saluted the sun in Times Square and, in Tiwanaku, Bolivia, an Andean religious leader made a spiritual offering over a fire in celebration of the Aymara new year.

I made pesto.

And today I awoke to the lingering aroma of fresh basil, one of the signature smells of summer.

A few weeks ago we talked about the sounds of summer.  Now that it’s officially summer, smells are what really get me going.  If your olfactory sense is as keen as mine—even if it isn’t—the faintest of smells can take you on the most vivid of journeys, to a certain time or place.  Am I right?

The first batch of pesto scraped out of my Cuisinart kicks off the season.

What else?  For me, it’s the smell of a lime Popsicle, honeysuckle, Sea and Ski suntan lotion and ripe strawberries.  Maybe a fresh peach.  Definitely a charcoal grill.

I don’t know if they even make Sea and Ski anymore, but I can tell you one whiff and I’d be on the beach in Ocean City, Maryland, around 1965, guzzling my Aunt Mary Lee’s lemonade.  Last week a friend gave me a scented candle that smells just like Coppertone Tanning Butter and that took me to a neighborhood swimming pool in 1971.  I don’t think Coppertone even makes tanning butter anymore.  It used to come in a yellowish jar with a brown lid.

Today where I live it’s supposed to be 98 degrees with 90 percent humidity.  While I am out buying lime Popsicles, maybe you can tell me what does it for you—what smells signify summer?  Do they take you anywhere?

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June 21, 2010 · 7:48 am

Character study

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society was delicious reading.

Last week, while my body was on a barrier island in North Carolina, my spirit was living in 1946, in the coastal town of St. Peter Port, in the Channel Islands, between France and England.  Fate takes the main character, a writer, to Guernsey, where she chronicles the stories of its people, who had survived—some not—the German Occupation of their island during World War II. 

It’s hard for me to shake a book.  Same thing with movies.  I linger in the setting for a bit, enjoying the company of the characters as if they were my closest friends, even adopting their speaking styles.  After reading the book, it was hard to resist the tendency to use “fancy” as a verb and utter words such as “twaddle” that don’t otherwise roll off my pedestrian American tongue.  I loved every page of this book and beg you to pick up a copy and dive in.

While on the Outer Banks I also enjoyed early morning coffee at the ocean’s edge and an occasional champagne at sunset.  I ate as much fresh seafood and key lime pie as humanly possible.

Also on this trip, my husband and I undertook a social experiment.  When eating out, instead of sitting at a table, we pledged to eat at the bar of each restaurant we visited, and get to know the people on either side of us.  Sometimes we sat long enough to get to know several rounds of patrons.

Our dining practice did indeed spur some fascinating conversations. 

At one place, we happened to sit next to a man we had met the previous summer—a retired high school basketball coach from the county where I grew up.  We met a sober-looking woman who ordered a cocktail made of six different liquors.  Another night we were drawn into giggling group of women in their sixties, away for a girls’ weekend. 

At Awful Arthur’s Oyster Bar, I struck up a conversation with a woman who had ridden to North Carolina on a motorcycle from Middle Tennessee.  I was familiar with Middle Tennessee because I have two very smart, clever and well-read friends from there.

This woman asked me where I was from.  I replied that I was from the Washington, D.C., area. 

She raised her eyebrows.  “Washington, D.C.?  Ain’t that where the president lives?”

Guernsey 1946 or Kill Devil Hills 2010, over potato peel pie or key lime, it doesn’t matter.  Interesting characters are everywhere if you just pull up a stool and ask, “where y’all from?”

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June 12, 2010 · 8:25 am

Slipping away

(s-bt-kl)

Even Word Nymphs need an extended rest now and then.

This one is running off to a secluded cottage for seven days without Internet, while her permanent home is guarded by two Sumo wrestlers, an Army Ranger and Mr T.

In recent times, “sabbatical” has come to mean any extended absence in the career of an individual in order to achieve something–in this case, enjoying a little sun without burning, perfecting her Skee-Ball game, beating her husband at 500 Rummy, filling up on seafood, catching up on sleep and reading The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society.

Thanks to readers who sent in their favorite summer songs, her iPod is locked and loaded for a week of sunset-gazing on an amazing ocean-front deck.

While away, the Word Nymph will be dreaming up all kinds of new wordish topics for her online forum.  She’ll also be leaving behind for her readers a favorite quote each day.  So, if you don’t subscribe, check in periodically and enjoy the words of some of her favorite writers.

If you’d like to suggest topics for future discussion, by all means, send them as Comments.

Thanks for reading.  See you on June 21st.

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