In the good old....

Well, most people call Memorial Day weekend the “unofficial” start of summer. As far as I was concerned it WAS the start of summer. What miserable weather…. And it isn’t even June!! Maybe it’s my advancing age, but when it gets that hot, my brain goes numb. All I want to do is sit inside and wait for nightfall..Hence the creative juices sort of clog up..and, I tend to get cranky

Really alert readers will remember that I reported that the Bon Appétit magazine has started a “make over” after the long time editor “decided” to retire. Ahem. Anyway the new guy has had columns about making changes, etc. So you can imagine my surprise when the June issue showed up with a grinning Gwyneth Paltrow holding a bowl of pasta on the cover (large Gwyneth, small bowl) . Oh, I’m sorry Mr. Postman, you delivered a copy of People Magazine by mistake. I don’t remember seeing a person (except maybe the New Chefs issue of F&W) EVER on the cover of a foodie publication! And also on the cover in bold letters was “EASY SUMMER RECIPES from Food’s Newest Face”. My, oh my. The newest face indeed. And you know what? She’s a cookbook author. Not a chef, a cookbook author. On the cover of a food magazine. And it apparently didn’t go unnoticed as the “new guy” editor Adam Rapoport made note of it in his “editor’s letter”, entitled “We’re Getting Personal”. He spends more or less the whole thing justifying putting movie stars on a food magazine…”I realize putting a movie star on the cover of a food magazine isn’t typical”… really? Like never before. And not only that, there is a multi-page article on her complete with pictures entitled “The Girl Can Cook” along with bites like “is there anything Gwyneth Paltrow can’t do?”. Oh, the author of that article is the same Adam Rapoport.

I know I’m old, conservative, and always stay between the lines, but somehow a food magazine should be about the food, not “Food’s newest face”. Of course I always say that food should be enjoyed with people but the other way around just isn’t right. Just a guess, buy maybe the magazines days are dwindling or they'll find a new editor. Conde Nast imploding?

ouch!

And for readers in St. Louis or those with access to Sauce Magazine, there’s a scathing review of a place called Catch 22 Seafood Lounge in Belleville, IL..a couple of samples:

“An energy drink on beverage menu? Not many people dropping a C note for a fine dining experience order a couple of Red Bulls to enhance their evening”

“Forget pairing interesting sides to complement different proteins. Forget imaginative plating. Forget seasonal. Forget locavore…..In short, the food is underwhelming”

And finally: “How do you aspire to high-end dining when so little attention is paid to the details? How do you become a destination restaurant when the most basic cook can make the same meals more creatively?”

How many more days to fall?

In this weather you have to carefully choose your outfit to

DFD

Friday's This and Thats....

As the temperature goes up, the events go down. At least the ones that are of interest to your snobby cultural Bottom Feeder. So we won’t be talking about Larry the Cable guy.

Of possible interest is the start of the “Downtown Tunes” concerts in Historic Leonardtown, sponsored by the energetic Leonardtown Business Association (who is probably responsible for the “historic” moniker). Every 4th Saturday there will be concerts on the square beginning at six and running around two hours. Tomorrow’s edition will feature “Country Memories”, so don’t look for me. There are more (to me) attractive offerings later in the summer. More info closer in.

One kind of bittersweet event is also this weekend. As a lot of “county folk” around here know, every year there is a “Farm Life Festival” held at the Parlett Farm, kind of near Charlotte Hall. Besides rides and stuff, it housed one of the most extensive collections of artifacts from early American farm life at least in this country. Well, this weekend, the collection will be put up for auction, piece by piece. Apparently they tried to make it available to various entities, but the collection is so large that it would involve a huge amount of resources to maintain it, and nobody wanted it. So it goes on the block. If you’re interested, just google parlett auction and you’ll find details. MFO hopes that there are not important historical documents that will be lost. We may go, but we may not..

There goes the neighborhood:

People who ply Three Notch Road to the north have no doubt noticed that yet another architectural monstrosity is being erected in the form of yet another chain restaurant. So, coming from the south, you notice the sort of California Dinerish Red Robin, then the Tuscan Villa housing the Olive Garden, and now we get this eyesore:




Pre made burger in the diner not for you? How about chicken cooked elsewhere over pasta, and pretending you’re a family member? No? Well, hang on, apparently you can wait a bit and get a hunk of steer at The Texas Roadhouse. Checking their menu on-line turns me nauseous. If you have the guts, here’s the link. The first thing that strikes me/you is that ugly architecture (which I am not sure how relates to Texas) of two towers with a gaudy neon sign between them. I can only imagine that is their plan and will replace the "Now Hiring" banner in the picture. Then the description of the food lauds “Hearty Hand Cut Steaks which are specially aged and hand-cut every day by our in-house meat cutters, who take special care that every steak is tender and lean”. Do I really think there will be a meat cutter in there? No, I don’t but I am not the most optimistic person in the world either. They also have the usual line up of burgers, ribs, chickens, and even “Dockside Favorites”. Be still my pounding heart! Or maybe be still my churning stomach. Well, we’ll wait and see. Oh, did I mention they also feature “Legendary Food, Legendary Service” My, oh my. Wonder what’s next. How about a Dean and Delucca?

Starbuck’s Rant:

Sometimes I go in there and leave happy as I see somebody I know, or the staff is friendly (mostly are), and I start my day with a smile. Well, today I left gnashing my teeth. And, not because of the staff or product, because of the behavior of the customers. As I entered I noticed a man and his son (probably) sitting at a table, reading the newspaper. After I stood in line a bit, placed my order (which they know by heart now), stood in the line on the output end for a few minutes, I noticed that same man coming back with the paper in his hand. I thought maybe he was going to use the restroom. Nope, he sort of hastily (and poorly) reassembled the paper and…..put it BACK ON THE RACK! Can you believe that? Somebody who apparently can afford a four dollar vente triple no foam soy macchiatto with an extra shot can’t afford to buy a buck and a quarter newspaper? Does the sign on the stand say “lending library”? No, it does not. And, he leaves it right on top with edges sticking out all over. Nice guy.

And secondly there is some guy who is a regular who apparently feels he’s the staff’s BFF because he always announces his presence, which you would notice anyway, as he is rather large. But aside from that what gets to me is outside. He drives one of those huge “dualie” pickups. The little plaza where Starbucks is located has not many parking places and people just deal with it. Not this guy, he’s special. Along the front, there are parking bays separated by by little islands of trees and such. Well, that’s his personal parking place. He basically parks right in the driveway, parallel with the curb across one of the islands. You can only carefully fit one car by it where normally two can pass. Very thoughtful of others, sir......Of course one of my BFF’s will once again accuse me of hiding behind my keyboard, and I am, but geez, can’t people behave nicely just because it’s the right thing to do? do people need to be told how to be civil?

Okay, enough ranting and railing. The unofficial summer season starts today and over the weekend. Certainly the weather thinks it’s summer.

Enjoy, and you can find appropriate summer like clothing to

DFD

Spring song...

Although that's the name of a guitar piece written by a friend, we're not musical today, just a nostalgic look into past springs of me youth..

Although you will not (yet) see postings from the Bottom Feeder appear on Facebook (or tweeter, or linked up, or…) I do peruse the thing fairly often because like it or not, that’s where you find out what is happening. Especially for organizations, museums, venues, etc., who have “pages” that you can like and then keep up with their events or interesting articles.

One of the more interesting pages I stumbled (correct word) across was “Michigan’s Upper Peninsula”. Although not a “upper” (pronounced uuuu-per”) by birth, I am a Michigander and still have sentimental ties to the state. One of their posts contained a reference to Morel mushrooms, which are now appearing in the northern woods (spring up there) Here’s the link (if it’s still active). Flashback!

My mother’s sister, “Aunt Lee” to me, long had a linen store in Petosky, Michigan, on the upper left hand side of the lower peninsula. Loyal Feeder Reeders will remember I occasionally reminisce about my summers there. My parents also had some friends who originally lived across the street from us in East Lansing, the Alfreds. They had a summer gift shop kind of in the woods on the road Harbor Springs (now I’m misting up) where they sold little souvenirs to tourists, like cheesy little birch bark canoes, poor quality “Petosky Stones”, or key chains with “Harbor Springs, Michigan” fobs attached. Eventually they built a little log home next to the shop and moved up there permanently.

Okay, now I’m approaching the point… Sometimes in the spring I would be dropped off at their shop for a few days, while my mom and dad went and did things with Aunt Lee and Uncle Bill (a subject for multiple feeders sometime). While there I would get to do wonderful things. Like some nights Betty and Stan (Alfred) would get a call that the Smelt were running in so and so river. For the uninitiated, Smelt are little fresh water fish of the great lakes that take it into their head in the spring to go find some small stream to charge into for reasons of continuing the species, so to speak. Always at night, always with no moon. So after they got the word, we would jump in the car with nets, waders, wool jackets and drive to the mouth of so and so river where it flowed into Lake Michigan, usually identified by a pool of headlights. There would be any number of people almost bank to bank, up to their waists, dipping their nets into the icy water and coming up with a net full of shining, squirming, flopping fish. As I recall a six inch smelt would be large. Much fun and talk accompanying all this activity, and I have no doubt that beverages might have been a part. Like a flask of Brandy. Anyway, you would come home with a tub of the little guys, and if it wasn’t too late, gut and head them on the spot. Then you would roll them in flour (I don’t remember batter – maybe too small) and fry them in oil. Drain, and eat. Bones would melt and they were some of the most delicious fish I can remember. Wonder if they still do that. For kid’s sake, I hope so.

The other thing that we would do would be to troupe out into the woods looking for those elusive Morel’s, another springtime delicacy. Most of the local residents would have their secret special location where they would go every year, the whereabouts of which was kept as a family secret. Some would take devious routes to throw off anybody trying to poach “their” Morels. I think remember that the best ones were associated with ash trees. The same with the Alfreds, so we would pile in the car with them with one or both of their sons and drive some two lane dirt back roads into the woods, get out and head for the patch. Sometimes they were there, sometimes not. Along the way you would see Trailing Arbutus, Pink and White Trilliums, and other spring time flowers. You might find little wintergreen berry to chew on. If we were lucky enough to hit the right time you would harvest a basket full of the distinctive sponge like legumes and return home. Like the smelt, lightly dusted with flour, sautéed in butter, and another heavenly taste in your mouth. Earthy, pungent. I still remember those times. Don’t know where the car keys are, but can think of the taste of Morels over fifty years ago. Ties to Michigan.

The other ritual of spring involved my Dad. He was called just “Moody” or sometimes “Mose” I guess a contraction of Morris. Anyway, Dad was an ardent fly fisherman, reserved strictly for trout. He would spend the winter to tie his own flies, dress the fishing lines, lovingly take care of the rods, wind the reels just so, make sure the creel was not dried out, mend any patches in the waders, all in preparation for “opening day”. When it approached he would take us “up North” which was anyplace north of Grayling. But usually it was Grayling which was the target because of the legendary trout stream, the Au Sable River which flowed through there (site of Ray’s Canoe livery). Then on opening day (it HAD to be opening day) he would dress up in a starched white shirt, a black bow tie, I think a fedora of some sort, don the waders with black suspenders, and enter the water at some little landing. No canoes, you waded! Down the stream he’d go, flicking 30 feet of line in a graceful arc, placing the little fly right next to that downed tree, settling it lightly as the real thing on the water, and twitch it a bit. If there was no strike, re-cast maybe a little right or left until “Splash!” the silvery fish would leap out of the water and the battle ensued. Ultimately the fish would tire (or occasionally gain freedom), and slide into the waiting net which was attached to the waders, then slipped into the creel. Of course when I got old enough to participate he would (I suspect) suffer to take me along, which resulted in a lot of time spent un scrambling my reel, or trying to get the fly out of the trees. I also suspect he was proud. I hope so. Thanks dad.

So, anyway, a spring trip down memory lane, which journeys grow more dear as your own lengthen.

And see, they all ultimately involved food! No wonder I’m strange.

And of course Dad on opening day would be

DFF(ishing)

Where are we?...

As to the rapture… how do we know that there wasn’t one and we are now all in heaven (or…), and it’s just like it was on earth. After all, the good reverend can’t be located this morning. Maybe HE got left behind..

Anyway, stretching the analogy a bit, we did experience a little bit of if not heaven, maybe nirvana or close to it at that event we attended in Baltimore on Saturday night. As I mentioned it was held in the Baltimore Museum of Art, encompassing most of the second floor. Galleries there included statuary, some impressionists, pre Christian mosaics, and some portrait galleries. Food and drink were not allowed (MFO approved) in them, but you could park your drink at the door and then go appreciate stuff by Picasso, Gauguin, Corot, and so on. Maybe there was another gallery someplace but I was surprised that there wasn’t any works by Monet or Manet.

But of course to your loyal Bottom Feeder, it’s all about the food. The event was catered by Classic Catering which is apparently the “big dog” in Baltimore. My initial reaction upon entering the spaces was that there was a tremendous amount of staff. They were everywhere almost your personal assistant. Unlike last year (a couple of ticks off) we were not met with a beverage on a tray, however there were immediate offers of little bites. From silver trays. And here I was presented with two things I had never experienced before. The napkins that were offered were cloth, not paper. Just a little four by four square with linen borders and a mesh type center. Very tasteful. And if you selected an item that was on a skewer (petite crab cake, small bite of chicken) or maybe a marinated shrimp a second server was following behind with another silver tray and a napkin folded as to form a pocket. “May I take your skewer/shrimp tail, sir?” How civilized. There were several bars strewn throughout the halls connecting the galleries where you could order a drink. MFO asked if she could get a Gimlet. “Of course Ma’am would Gray Goose Vodka be all right?”. Not wanting to do the drink test (there were small lines at this point), I asked if they had scotch (expecting the dreaded Dewar’s answer). Why yes we do. Is Johnny Walker black Acceptable? It is to me. I started to keep notes of the offerings of things on the silver plates, but soon became overwhelmed and gave it up. Mini crab cakes, artichoke/spinach on crostini, seared tuna with corn relish and a hot pepper, brie melted between slivers of flatbread, creamy hummus on toasted baguettes, little spoons of roasted lobster, and many more that I of course can’t remember. And you never were wanting for something in your hand, more often than not you had your mouth occupied and had to say “not yet” as offers were pretty much continual. Here and there live music was being played, a jazz guitarist here, a small ensemble there, with sound levels conducive to conversation.

While the passed things were circulating, food stations began to be occupied, again with more forgotten than remembered items. Lamb chops cut from a rack, juicy and pink, sliced tenderloin as you like it, a traditional Paella with chicken, shrimp, and sausage, crab cakes made to order, grilled rockfish, marinated chicken breast strips, and at each station were salads (heirloom tomatoes with feta (or goat, I can’t remember). I’m not even sure I hit all the stations. The food was very good. Again trying to recall “last year” I seem to remember that the station food was plated for you rather than having to hold out a plate. A small, but noticeable thing. With my rockfish, I decided to have a glass of wine (no more JWB’s for me at this point), so asked if they had a Pinot. We do, its Adelsheim. That will do.

Passed desserts began to come out, again a bewildering amount of choices between small spoons of cheesecakes, little pieces of apple walnut tart, small champagne glasses of mousse, lemon meringue squares, even chocolate chip cookies. Reluctantly we left and headed south for home.

It was a wonderful evening, and well worth the hassle of up and back, late to bed, and so forth. Of course you can’t help but compare this experience with the one last year in DC (Catered by Occasions), and maybe it isn’t fair. I think maybe the Renwick Gallery is a bit better venue, we found the museum a bit harder to mingle, being a series of “hallways” and separate rooms. The double servers for the passed appetizers were a plus for Classic, but the already plated station food from Occasions was nice. If I had to pick, I might lean toward the DC event, but geez, both were just great. What a great opportunity.

Comes the dawn:

After rolling in well after midnight, a short sleep in the digs ended with getting ready to help with the First Annual BeerFest held at Historic St. Mary’s City. Alert readers might recall that I was part of the planning committee, and received an education in dealing with Brewer’s Associations, Permits, Vendors, Licenses, Caterers, and so forth. At the beginning of the day, we didn’t really know what to expect. Other events were happening in the county, it was a beer fest not a wine fest, who knows. We had hoped for at least 500 visitors. Well, guess what? Final numbers are yet to be known, but it is generally believed we nearly tripled that. Despite a couple of growing pains with quantities and logistics, it turned out to be a great event. GeeZer and the 25th Hour Band were just great, folks left the festival to go hear Woods Tea Company, came back, tasted more beer, had some food, and generally enjoyed themselves. There was cider making demonstrations, lessons in home brewing, craft tents, and something for everybody. All this despite not having the legislation in place to allow “off site sales”, which next year will be a feature. And the best part is that all the proceeds will go to support educational programs at Historic St. Mary’s City and help the museum grow. As they say about the rose bowl, planning for next year’s event begins the day after this year’s. And that’s not kidding. First meeting Wednesday.

So, if you came, thank you, and if you didn’t make it this year, plan on next. It will be late in May again, bigger or at least better than ever...so watch for news.

And I guess if you came to the Fest, it was alright to be

DFB(eer).

and no, last posting's DFD was NOT dressed for Doomsday, although i wished i had thought of that.. what great readers!!

Last One??....

It would seem inappropriate if the world were to end today, and after some 450 Bottom Feeders, I had not made a final posting. So, goodbye.

Or maybe the sun will rise tomorrow as usual, and we’ll go on our merry way. I guess Mr. Camping will have some explaining to do, or it could be he’ll just drop out of sight and his followers can claim he was correct. Wasn’t there a Kevin Spacey movie (K-PAX) like that years ago?

Anyway, you can’t help but think about it, and I have come to the conclusion after observing the believers, that if it does happen, I think I would enjoy the company of those left behind more that the ones who rise..

Bookend

MFO was making an order on Amazon the other day, and I threw in a book I had seen in one of the magazines that sort of intrigued me. It was called “Think like a Chef”, by Tom Colicchio, a well regarded chef that is behind (among others – Gramercy Tavern) the “Craft” series of restaurants. The review I read said that the book emphasized techniques and cooking concepts rather than recipes, allowing the aspiring cook to be more creative. Being a slave to recipes myself I thought it might prod me into a broader sense of cooking, hence the order.

Through the magic of Amazon (I think they are in league with aliens) the book appeared on my doorstep yesterday afternoon. After returning home last night after the Historical Society Dinner, I opened the book and took a look at it. It begins with a forward, followed by a Preface. I read the said preface which is mostly an autobiography, letting the reader know how he got to where he is today. As with a lot of chefs, he came from a background where food was an important part of the family (Italian heritage), and he was entranced with cooking from an early age. He then relates the various jobs he had as he grew up (peeling 60 Lbs of shrimp over and over in one place), eventually working in some pretty well known restaurants and some big name chefs (Thomas Keller). What struck me was how often he moved around. A year here, nine months there, a trip to France for a “stage”, always trying to improve his cooking skills and concepts. Pretty typical of these high profile chefs..

But what also struck me was that in the beginning of the book that shows the copyright stuff, it was first published in 2001, and this edition from 2007. And, on the front cover along with a nice picture of him and the title, down at the bottom is a little box that says: “Head Judge of the Hit Series, Top Chef”. This always bothers me. There is no doubt that he is (I hate this word) passionate about his food. But what propels these guys that grew up preparing food, dedicate their lives to the art, to all of a sudden forsake the kitchen for the “Top Chef”, or “Iron Chef” and all the myriad of the silly competition shows. I doubt it’s the money, after they have successful restaurants they probably are pretty well off financially. I guess their ego is not satisfied by merely staying in the kitchen producing great food. Too bad, really.

Well, if I don’t see you tomorrow, have a nice life.

In any case, I for one will be
DFD