Home Cookin'.....

As the memories of greens, fairways, and locally caught Tilapia fade into the memory locker, just a quick couple of notes about some local goings on..

Corporate Decisions

At first they didn’t.  Now apparently they do.  Ground has been scraped and steel is being erected to provide us with the fourth (of a planned five) chain eateries along Rte. 235 North.  First of course, was the long anticipated arrival of the flagship of corporate Italian dining, the Olive Garden, soon joined by the upscale burger palace Red Robin, and lately one of two Texas style steakhouses.

What used to be green grass (well, okay weeds, but they were green) is now home of yet another constructions site.

It is quite amazing how fast these things arise once they begin.  And yes, another “coming soon”, the all too common sign of “development” in our county.  This one announces

Another wished for addition to our ever expanding cadre of processed, market researched, prepared off site, and delivered to you places.   And of course “we” do nothing to dissuade them, the parking lots are always full to the gills. 

Which leads me to a little observation about the barrel of crackers.  They seem to always locate next to a heavily traveled road, interstate, or at big interchanges.  Most of the ones I have seen have some of the parking lot between the building and the thoroughfare.  A vast majority of CB parking lots that I have observed always seem to have that first row full.  Would they make the employees park there to appear busy?  Who knows.  Just take notice as you motor around the country.  And oh yes, they make you enter the restaurant through a gift shop.  Real fine dining.

An Indie Update

I think I have reported before that one of our local independent chefs, Ahmed (originally of the Tides) who currently operates Chef’s American Bistro in my nearby San Souci, announced changes to the place, and a return to his roots.  Apparently it is in progress

The sign is kind of confusing as I read it, but nonetheless it announces the change. Seeing "gourmet" and "soul food" in the same sentence strikes me as kind of an oxymoron. Be interesting to see the menu.  Oh yeah, add "buffet" to the words I would not expect to see.  I suppose it is too "cutesy" to have called it "Kafe Kili...."  and I have seen no movement toward his other objective of rehabbing the Lone Star spot in Lex Park to “Bistro 235”.

And our old McDonalds, new Golden Corral location seems to be worked on sporadically.

Publications

I was looking at some food blogs just a bit ago, and was reminded of an experience from our last San Diego visit. I think you remember that our friend there is a very good cook, and one of her friends gave her a subscription to Lucky Peach, a recently launched publication of David Chang of MomoFuko, a pretty respected restaurant.  It is in the sort of second tier of foodie mags, for a more limited market I presume.  While there I picked up one of her issues.  This particular one contained a sort of round table discussion between David, I think maybe Mario (I may be wrong here) and a couple of other well known chefs.  I try to be liberal in this things, but I was amazed to find a constant string of F Bombs, scatological references, and use of many words that would not be part of my conversation, especially about food.  Being famous doesn’t give you the right to be vulgar.  Just a thought.

MFO and the MOMSTER are on the road again to Wisconsin, and I am holding down the digs.  Most likely I won’t be

DFD

The Nineteenth Hole....

A couple of bogeys left over from the golf journey

I was taken to task today by a couple of readers for not finishing the story about me trying to smuggle a weapon onto the golf course in the form of my seemingly harmless Swiss Army Knife.  In a way, I am glad it was pointed out to me (one of which was an English teacher no less) because it proves that somebody actually pays attention to this.  Anyway, as you recall as I was about to enter the security gate in the morning, a very sweet older African American lady doing triage told me I would not be able to take the knife through security to the course because it was so dangerous (she really didn’t say the latter, it’s just me).  Instead, she kindly said, here let me hold it for you, and when you leave this afternoon, just come back right here and get it.  She very carefully showed me a little corner in her cabinet, and gently placed the weapon there.  She was very apologetic for having to do this, but it was the rule.  And, as we all know, rules is rules, especially when it comes to security.

Okay, so after a long day of golf, on the way out we had to pass near the security gates again so I figured what the heck, I’ll give it a shot.  I walked over from the exit path to the entrance gates and told a nice young man my story.  He directed me to another agent, and I repeated the story.  Follow me, he says, and took me to the security office. The door opened to reveal a uniformed, very stern looking lady eyeing me suspiciously.  Once again I repeated the story, and she replied in “a tone”: “Sir! All confiscated items have been disposed of”.  Visions of Bio Hazard suited men with long poles prodding my knife to see if it would explode leaped to mind.  Well, I said, the nice lady at the gate placed it in her little cabinet and said it would be there.  Again the back rose, the eyes narrowed and in a steely voice:  “Sir, you were given incorrect information! we DISPOSE of all CONFISCATED items”.  I figured my weapon was more “checked” than confiscated, but this point I was fearing a cavity search if I pursued the matter any longer and thanked her for her time, retreating out the door under her self satisfied gaze.

I must say this was the only blemish on all the volunteers and people we encountered for the tournament; they were all almost the complete opposite of security czar.  So thank you nice elderly lady at the gate for your consideration, and up yours lady in the office!

A fishy tale…

I also forgot to relate another piece of the story at Carraba’s.  One of the items on the menu was a tilapia dish of some sort.  Seems like these days you can’t find a menu without the little piscine on it.  At any rate, my friend innocently (not really) asked if the tilapia were local?  Why yes it is, said the server who was taking care of us.  Well, not so fast.  Tilapia is enjoying a boom in aquaculture and is being farmed a lot of places.  I did a little internet poking, and although I can’t find the damn reference today, it was to the effect that 98% of the Tilapia consumed in the US comes frozen from off shore.  So I am very much in doubt that a little lad in a straw hat and a bamboo pole caught the menu items for Carraba’s.

Okay, tomorrow back home issues.  And for those you won’t (yet) have to be

DFD

Grubs instead of Clubs...

Grub on the Master’s pilgrimage was roughly divided into three categories: Road Food, Restaurant Food, and Golf Tournament Food...

Road Food: 

we have a couple of sub-categories here: food that we brought and food that was purchased.  In the “brought” department we had a complete array of “snacks”, such as granola bars; Payday bars (a personal favorite for this kind of thing); potato chips, some special “Ocean City” popcorn, and a variety of other little things.  Those kept the energy level up while watching mileposts go by.  For lunch we had some very good chicken or shrimp wraps which were prepared in advance.  The “purchased” category included liquids of various kinds grabbed at potty stops and so forth, nothing much remarkable on the outbound leg.

On the way home while looking for a “Moe’s” we stumbled on a Harris Teeter grocery store.  I  have had heard good things about them, so we decided to go in for a look.  It was fairly new methinks, and had a great deli section with made to order (Boar’s Head) sandwiches, a very nice salad bar with soups, and lots of other pre-made sandwiches.  We ordered up a couple of sandwiches, and a selection from the salad bar which was more healthy than my roast beef, mayo, and American yellow cheese sandwich.  There was a little area where you could consume your selections so we sat there.  The store was very clean, orderly, and everybody was very helpful.  They all talked funny, then we realized we were in North Carolina.  They had a lovely wine section (imagine being able to buy wine in a grocery store!!)

Maybe we could have one of those here instead of the glut of chain restaurants…

Restaurant Food:

With our sort of relaxed schedule this time, we were able to have two restaurant meals.  While all the travelers, including FOJTE, are pretty food savvy we kind of limited ourselves to places around the motel, rather than driving for fine dining.  Monday night we wanted a bite before watching the NCAA final, so walked over to a nearby Carolina Ale House, apparently a regional chain, kind of a sports bar thing so common to us all.  It was okay.  Our server (Hi I’m…) was relatively new (as she kept reminding us), but she delivered an acceptable level of service commensurate with a casual sports bar.  There were many customers who looked like they were there for the same reason we were (golf tournament).  The menu doesn’t need any recap as it was as you would expect – starters; salad/soups; sandwiches; entrees (mostly platters and plated items – fish, fowl, beef); and so forth.  Our order consisted of a steak salad, a “special” Cuban sandwich which two of us split, and a flatbread pizza.  Our refills of unsweetened tea turned out to be sweetened (hey, it’s the South!) but that was quickly corrected, Quality was consistent with the place.  Nothing special.  Dining was by light of flat screens.

Our second experience was Tuesday night, after the practice round.  We found a Carraba’s nearby, and drove a scant quarter mile (walking for me was out of the question at this point) to the place.  I had never been in one so was interested to see what is considered a step up from the Olive Garden.  We eschewed outside eating which was available and were seated in the inside dining space.  I was informed by one of my traveling buddies that Carraba’s is under the same umbrella as is the Outback Steak House.  Upon hearing that I noticed some similarities between the two places.  Lots of dark wood, booths and tables, a kind of a separated bar area with a few tables, although Carraba’s has a more or less open kitchen.

We once again were told we would be “taken care of” by so and so, she recited a few specials which I didn’t write down or remember, and left the menus with a drink order (couple of “stella’s” and water).  Menu is pretty stock for a popular/chain Italian place, forced into categories of Antipasti; Zuppe & Insalate; Wood Fired Pizza; Pannini; Marsala (your choice of chicken, pork, steak, or veal) and then Classics and Combinations; Wood Burning Grill; Stuffed Pasta, and Signature Pasta.  So there are many choices to ponder.  We wound up with a Cobb Salad (over Caesar base, please – no problem); I fell back to my standard Veal Piccata; and another pizza.  Mine came with choice of side salad or soup; and a further choice of vegetable of the day, garlic mashed potatoes or Cavatappi Amatriciana.  the soup was either the ubiquitous Minestrone or they had a sausage lentil which I took.  Shuddering at the thought of mashed potatoes with Veal Piccata, I opted for the veggies.   The cava…whatever turns out to be a pasta dish that looks mightily like macaroni and cheese, but apparently they are proud of it.

Fast forward (about time, you say) to the arrival of the food.  All were fairly pleasing to the eye, and my veal was nicely browned (albeit thicker cut than it should be) but did have a lemony sauce.  My friend instantly pointed out that there were no capers!  Somewhat abashed that I missed it, I agreed - what the Heck!  As any devotee of Italian cuisine knows, capers are a key ingredient in veal piccata.  It provides a nice acidic punch to the sauce and livens up the veal.  When our server made a pass, I inquired about this appalling omission.  “Oh”, she said, “a lot of people don’t like them so we leave them off”.  Lacking any intelligent reply to this, I asked if I could have some.  I think so… Soon a little ramekin arrived with more sauce and many capers.  This made the dish ever so much better.  There is no telling about people.  Veal Piccata sans capers.  Good grief.  I suppose they do achieve a step up from Olive Garden, I still will avoid either if I have a chance.

After hearing a long list of desserts, we demurred and headed back to the room for the Women’s NCAA championship game (wherein Baylor pounded Notre Dame despite the much vaunted Skyyyyyylarrrrr Diiiiiiggins!). Sorry domer, I couldn’t resist…

Which leaves us with

Food at the golf tournament

The available food was in buildings scattered throughout the course. There were several lines offering sandwiches, snacks, fruits, cookies and so forth.  Each line had caretakers constantly replenishing things.  It moved along quite nicely.  For those of you that frequent ball parks and other public venues, you are used to paying 8 bucks for a sandwich and 7 or so for a beer.  Prices at the Masters were 3 bucks for a BBQ sandwich, 2.50 for a “Master’s club” and beers were only (in a souvenir mug) only two fifty.  Imported (the ubiquitous Stella) were three bucks for a full pour.  What a treat.  And once again, the people behind the counter were friendly (over here, sir!) and nice. But if you ever get the chance to be there, you HAVE to have the icon of the south:

Not just a jarred spread, there was actual shredded cheese on white bread.  Perfect.  $2.00.  wow. It’s just done right.

Okay this took too much ink so we’ll do Pax updates tomorrow.  And don’t worry in this case about

DFD

Post script: the Master’s is done for this year. High drama with Phil hitting a rail on 4 for a triple bogey effectively eliminating him from the tournament and his fourth green jacket  I was really pleased to see another left hander, Bubba Watson, win.  He’s a neat guy.  Maybe the heir to the Freddie, Phil, crowd favorite…

Clubs and Grubs..

First the Clubs....Food report to follow…

After arriving home last Sunday afternoon from our somewhat hectic weekend on the Eastern Shore, I didn’t even unpack my Dopp kit, and relatively early Monday jumped in the MOMSTER again, gathered up a couple of friends, and pointed toward "Mecca". In the world of golfers Mecca of course means Augusta, Georgia and the Master’s tournament.  Alert readers will remember we visited it four years ago.  Maybe I’ll get lucky every presidential year!

Anyway, we managed to leave early enough in the day that we arrived at our motel (Columbia, SC) with enough time to enjoy the evening a bit (food report to follow).  FOJTE arrived after a long journey of his own from St. Louis, and we all watched the men’s basketball championship, and consumed some very, very, VERY, good wines courtesy of my friends. 

Being some seventy miles from the course (room availability and cost is exponential the closer to the course) we left (for me) awfully early on Tuesday, did the sit in traffic with the usual stuff lining the road.  Buyers and sellers...

Sat in more lines of traffic, eventually parking free along with the other fans on the grounds.

And then walked (and walked, and walked, and walked some more) with them till finally we got to the gate

Here we had our first taste of Southern Hospitality at the tournament. All the security folks greeted us with “welcome to the Masters!” and warning that you couldn’t bring this or that, which resulted in several luckless fans retracing the trek back to the car to return that lawn chair.  The literature was quite explicit in what or what not was allowed on the course.  Mercifully cell phones were among the banned items.  Even the normally prepared Feeder fell afoul of the rules.  The little brochure with the tickets specifically stated that "weapons" were not allowed on the course.  It turns out that my little Swiss Army pocket knife was considered a "weapon" so I had to leave it at the gate.  The nice lady said “Here, I’ll put it right here (under her counter) and you pick it up when you leave”.  We’ll return to how that played out later.  I was glad I made the tournament a safer place to be by surrendering my little one inch knife.  One does have to wonder however, what somebody could do to you if they used some of the camera lenses I saw as a baseball bat… now THAT is a weapon!

So finally after the long hike from the parking lot, surviving the long walk to the gate, the lines, the crowds, you are released to the cathedral of golf

Where all of a sudden, everything just gets quieter and calmer, people who cross in front of you (who really are not a bother) say “excuse me”, or “thank you”; it’s what you do when in church.  Once on the course, you’re pretty much free to go wherever you wish (outside the ropes), the yellow hatted marshall’s all know who’s where, where the nearest restrooms are, how to get to hole thirteen, and are extremely helpful and friendly.  We headed for the area of the 16^th hole, the famous par three, near where the big boys were reputedly playing.  Sure enough we got there to see some of the luminaries coming up another hole

And yes, the (media) anointed  tournament favorite surveys his kingdom

One of the nice things about the practice rounds is that the players while serious about preparing for the tournament, do have some fun.  Like on that par three sixteenth where the carry is pretty much all water from tee to green

There is a tradition (like no other) that after they hit their tee shots, the go down to the water’s edge and try to skip a ball across the water, and up onto the green. The crowd chants “skip! skip! skip!” most do, some don’t (usually garnering boo’s).  There was one group that even did it in unison.  Know who that furthest golfer is?  the closest?

They play to the crowd, and everybody has a good time.  Some of the caddies are hilarious. You wouldn’t see that on a tournament round.  After watching that for a while we headed down toward “amen corner” which is anchored by “golden bell” the famous 12^th hole nestled by Raes Creek.  (the green on the left is the 11^th, the further one is the 12^th)

You might notice the absence of the normal beauty of the Azaleas which normally provide a backdrop for this hole.  Georgia, like the rest of us experienced a warmer than normal winter and the blooms have all gone.

The next hole is the 13^th where you might remember Mickelson hit that miracle shot from the pinestraw to a “kick-in” eagle on his way to his last green jacket.  We happened to be near the green when he was approaching, and he walked over to that same spot..  Despite the urging of the crowd he didn’t reattempt it and basically said:

His playing partner for the round was Freddie who seems to be always expounding on something

By this time we were tired and footsore, but on our way out before hitting the gift shop we walked by some of the buildings and caught a glimpse of the king himself

Kind of a fitting way to end a special day spent with son and friends on the most famous golf course in the world with the greatest players.  Everything about it is done right.  Attendants in all the restrooms, cleaning and straightening, and the restrooms are real buildings, not just a line of portapotties.  We’ll talk about the food service tomorrow.

To quote a line from TV, "If you love golf, you gotta go!"  It's a special place, and I'm not making that up.

and pretty much everybody is tastefully

DFG

The long road...

the beat goes on...

where we were:

the resort

 on the grounds



the "Bistro" of last report and maybe you can get a better idea of what I was talking about..  People need to move their damn cars!! and cell phone lady could have moved..

I have some more shots of Eastern Short/Cambridge, but a the road never ends..tomorrow am going to Mecca -  I have these and you don't and they are not for sale!!  I'll say Hi to Phil for you..

and as we ply the course, i'll certainly be

DFG(olf)