Monday, July 16, 2012

Fat, Indolent Foodies

In the July 2012 UK issue of Esquire, restaurant critic and author Giles Coren rants about food writing and a food-obsessed public. Rubbishing his own audience (most of whom surely think he must be addressing someone else), he declares that nobody in Britain can actually read anymore "and they won't pick up a book unless it has pictures of sausages in it." After a quick glance in my office at two full shelves of books about sausages, that stings a bit.

Giles Coren (artist's rendering)
Coren has written the recent How to Eat Out and has reviewed restaurants for 15 years. In the Esquire piece (What's eating Giles Coren?) he excoriates his fellow pork-bellied food writers and does not pause to skewer "foodies" who take issue with his writing:
I'm not one of these wankers who thinks he can tell you how a dish was made or what the chef did wrong, just by tasting it. I'm not going to use bogus pseudo-academic terms like accurate jus" or "well-judged gribiche" or "unanimous mouthfeel". I won't tell you that "my companion plumped for the fish" or give you 10 elbows of gobshite about what the chef here did in a previous life. That's why I get so many complaints from fat, indolent foodies about only getting on to the actual food in the last couple of paragraphs of my reviews. Because my life is much more interesting to me than the best way to poach turbot, and I have to write this shit week after week after week, and keeping it personal is the only way to keep me focused.
He goes on at some length about the tedium and general horribleness of London restaurant review work. It's not the food necessarily — jokes about Britain's bad food are as outdated as jokes about Margaret Thatcher's pearl necklaces — but the work itself that is so soul-grinding. "Jobs are, by their very nature, awful." They are; I agree wholeheartedly. However much Coren may detest his work, he shows no sign of packing it in.

That's reason enough to keep reading Esquire's British edition.

Goes well with:
  • Giles Coren is on Twitter. Check in for further vitriol here: @gilescoren.
  • Esquire UK posts some of its content here.
  • In 2008, Coren flamed out in an irate harrowing of Times sub-editors who changed a single word in his review. His letter to those editors is a snapshot of a man who has lost his mind with rage. Give it a read.
  • I Woke This Morning Thinking of Tits, a bit about a uncommon thought and how it led to AA Gill's review of  L’Ami Louis, "the Worst Restaurant in the World."

Friday, July 13, 2012

Le Goût Américain


Read a Sarah Palin quote this morning and was reminded of the eternal truth of this one.

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Where to Get a Drink During Comic-Con


So you’re coming to San Diego for Comic-Con and you need a drink? I can help.

First of all, welcome to town. Second, the best place for a drink is town may well be my living room, but I simply can’t fit you all in, so I’ve put together a rundown of some of my favorite drinking holes in town. Below is a mix of beer joints, cocktail bars, and even — if that’s how you like to get your swerve on — the town’s friendly gay bars.

This is not an exhaustive list of where to drink or even my favorites in the entire county. It does, however, hit highlights in neighborhoods adjacent to, or nearby, the convention center, places that are easy to get to and serve good drinks.

San Diego is a fantastic beer town with lots of local breweries and plenty of bars that have those beers on tap. Let’s dig in.

Beer

Hamilton’s Tavern
Grab a cab and head over to South Park for a few pints at Hamilton’s. Almost 30 beers on tap and a few casks of rotating specials make one of San Diego’s most revered beer landmarks worth a trip. Current offerings are on the big black board and there’s a kitchen with usual pub fare — wings, sausages, sandwiches, burgers, fries, etc. Recent beers on tap include Ale Smith, Bear Republic, Ballast Point, Rogue, and Monkey Paw.
521 30th St.

Monkey Paw
A local favorite, close enough to the convention center for a long walk or a short cab ride, but far enough away to avoid the crush one might get in the Gaslamp neighborhood. Not a huge beer list, but what’s there is good; Chimay, Stone, Green Flash (alas, not a superhero, but a solid local beer), Coronado Brewing, and more. Fries, cheese steaks, and wings are on the menu here. Not the kind of thing a much-slimmed down How To Batman would eat these days.
805 16th St.

Small Bar
Small Bar is, quite literally, a small bar. No false advertising there. If, after your zombie adventures at Petco Park, your group needs a respite, try to grab the long communal table. The selection of beers on tap changes frequently at this University Heights place, but with 42 handles, there’s bound to be something to please even finicky beer drinkers. On Saturday and Sunday, the bar offers brunch specials that come either with a cocktail or a beer (your choice).
4628 Park Blvd.

Stone Company Store
Can’t make it up to Stone Brewing’s vast beer garden in Escondido? Make the trek over to the sedate South Park neighborhood for a taste of what’s on tap. No food to speak of, but you can buy a glass and sample any of the offerings by trading poker chips for each refill. Growlers, kegs, and bottles for take-out. Shirts and whatnot for sale if your bags aren't too packed with swag.
2215 30th St.

Toronado
Stumbling distance from my old house, Toronado is the sister bar to San Francisco’s renowned beer Mecca of the same name. A wall of taps — as many as fifty — with free flowing beer from the left coast, Texas, other US hotspots, and Europe. Underberg bitters in wee, paper-wrapped bottles. 400 beers in bottles. The music can get too loud, but the beer is great and a kitchen will hook you up with basic eats such as sausages or macaroni and cheese.
4026 30th St.


As much as I relish great beers, a well-made cocktail is always welcome. In the interest of not writing a whole book on where to get a good cocktail in San Diego, I’ve made a short list of what’s good and nearby. Take heart. Eight years ago, this list would have been very short indeed.

Cocktails

Craft & Commerce
A recent addition to San Diego’s growing craft cocktail scene, Craft & Commerce quickly showed it had the chops to crank out good cocktails. You may hear that no vodka is on offer here, but I’ve spied a bottle of Karlsson’s Gold on the back bar more than once. Still, though, try something with genever or Campari. Why not grab a plate of mini corn dogs, house made pickles, or even a bowl of punch? Wines and beers for those who don’t trust themselves not to become Drunk Hulk with too much booze. Bonus; the men's room sometimes plays readings of Orwell over the speaker.
675 W. Beech St.

El Dorado Cocktail Lounge
$5 happy hour cocktails until 9pm? Yes, that is me you may sometimes spy at the bar. I like to drink and talk at bars, so I generally bail when the band starts tuning up. Sometimes there’s one here, sometimes not. You can get typical yard beers (PBR pounder, anyone?) but the cocktails are the draw. Get something with rye, pisco, or Chartreuse. Don’t go all douchey and play Stump the Bartender, but the staff know most of the classics and a lot of modern twists.
1030 Broadway

El Take It Easy
Jay Porter’s Baja-influenced eatery on the 30th Street stretch of restaurants has a proper sit-down menu, but grab a seat at the concrete bar and take in some of the cocktails and punches that are heavy with tequila, mezcal, and bourbon. Beers and Mexican wines also available (yes, Mexican wines; don't forget that Mexico is part of the local economy and wines from El Valle de Guadalupe are worth more than a cursory taste). A plate of thinly sliced country ham is just the thing if you’re down with swine. Thursday nights, the oysters are $1 each.
3926 30th St.

Noble Experiment
Across from the wall of skulls, bar man Anthony Schmidt holds court the stainless steel bar. You’ll need reservations. And you’ll need help finding it. Noble Experiment is hidden away within the (also great) beer bar, Neighborhood. Walking distance from the convention center. Head back toward the restrooms and start pushing walls. Once admitted, either tell Schmidt what you’d like or put yourself in his hands; he’s one of the few bartenders in town I’d simply let select something for me. A Yamazaki 18 Old Fashioned? Yes, please. If he’s not in, there’s a drinks catalog that’s over 700 items long. You’re bound to find something. Perhaps my favorite cocktail bar in town. No kitchen.
Please note: you must text for reservations (the lone fly in the ointment): (619) 446-0001
777 G St.

Prohibition
A bit like New York’s PDT in look and feel, Prohibition is hidden behind the door of a law firm, down a flight of stairs. I don’t routinely drink in the touristy Gaslamp, but I do make an exception here. Cool, dark, and quiet. Order at the bar, then move off to a table. Simple cocktails, done well. No fancy molecular mixology, but solid old school martinis, Italian amari, bonded apple brandy, and similar drinks with a bitters selection befitting a modern cocktail bar.
548 5th Ave.

Starlite
One of San Diego’s first modern cocktail bars tucked away on a surface road hugging the 5 freeway. The drinks menu feels a little behind the times now, but it’s still a great place to grab a bourbon mule, a selection of Van Winkle whiskeys, Belgian beers, Pimm’s cups, swizzles, and sangrias. The kitchen serves, like a lot of the city’s cocktail bars, local foods with a menu that changes daily; house made pickles, fries, mussels, charcuterie, cheeses, roasted chicken. Good stuff.
3175 India St.


Get Your Gay On

If you’re after a couple of stiff drinks with an easy-going gay crowd, you’re in luck. San Diego locals exude a friendliness second only to New Orleanians. You can even show up in costume if you like and nobody’s going to think it odd. Well. Not too odd.

Fiesta Cantina
An import from Los Angeles, “Fiesta” is an open-air bar with the feel of a cheap Baja beachside resort. Which is not to say it’s not fun. Not a single craft cocktail to be found on site. One does not order a Manhattan or a whiskey sour here. The margaritas, however, are big, they are strong, and they sometimes come two-for-one. It’s one of the few places I break down and just order a Corona and lime. Not at all unusual to bump into fully costumed ComicCon attendees.
142 University Ave.

The Hole
A hike from the convention center, but if you’re spent on Sunday afternoon, still in town, and want to get away from the cosplay, go on and hit always-popular sun-drenched dive, The Hole (so named for its proximity to a golf course and its former handle of The 19th Hole). If you’re not through the door and down the steps into the open-air pit by 4pm, skip it; the line is insanely long. A definitely bearish crowd (and their admirers), so if 40-something, shirtless, hairy guys are not your deal, maybe it’s best you skip it. Rudimentary grill with hot dogs and burgers. Usual quaffs are basic cocktails in small pitchers or a respectable selection of craft beers in the same. Bring sunscreen.
2820 Lytton St.

Urban Mo’s
The Hole may have been around since the end of Prohibition, but Mo’s is one of San Diego’s anchor gay bars. Always popular, nearly always busy. Right across the street from Fiesta Cantina, so there’s some back-and-forth with the crowd. The inside is divided into a dance floor and two bars. Another bar serves the patio outside and waiters will bring basic appetizers and unpretentious food to your table — burgers, sandwiches, fries, salads, burritos, etc. You may get an excellent cocktail by mistake (a bartender once gave me an outstanding Old Fashioned when I ordered a Manhattan), but don't expect one. The real draw is the crowd and the music. On a early Sunday evening, you may find me there with an oversized plastic stein of hefeweizen in hand. Want one? Ask for a Big Ass Hef.
308 University Ave.


Grab a Little Something for the Hotel Room

Want a little liquid refreshment for the room? Four places are worth noting.

Best Damn Beer Shop
A convenience store that holds both a homebrew supply section (ok, you probably won’t be brewing during the weekend) as well as an excellent and massive selection of beers, ales, lagers, ciders, barley wines, perries, and more from around the world. A local treasure.
1036 7th Ave.

Ralph’s
Yeah the grocery store. The selection is ok, but if you’re planning a room party, be aware of their standing deal: buy six 750ml bottles of wine or spirits and get 30% off each one. That turns out to be some pretty damn cheap liquor. And there’s one very close to the convention center.
101 G St.

Trader Joe’s
This store in the chain is in the Hillcrest neighborhood, so it may be worth a stop if you’re hitting the nearby gay bars and restaurants. I mention TJ’s for 750ml bottles of Bulleit rye for $19.99. That is the cheapest everyday price I’ve ever seen for a very respectable showing from the family better known for their bourbon (which is also $19.99 here).
1092 University Ave. (tucked away in a shopping center, near the Ralph's grocery store and a Starbucks)

Whole Foods
Also in Hillcrest, Whole Foods doesn’t have the beer selection of the Best Damn Beer Shop, but it’s got enough of a local selection (and some from Europe) to drop by if you’re in the neighborhood. Most of it is chilled, almost all of it is good.
711 University Ave.


Goes well with:
  • Tap Hunter’s Twitter feed gives regular updates on the beer menus around town.
  • Brandon Hernandez’s piece on San Diego drinking in the most recent issue of Imbibe.

The RumDumpster Is For Sale

CRAPGAME: Make a deal with 'im.

BIG JOE: What kind of deal?

CRAPGAME: A deal deal.
Maybe the guy's a Republican!
Business is business.

~ Kelly's Heroes (1970)

 A few years ago at Tales of the Cocktail, I found myself standing with a small cluster of rum guys after one of my talks. Some knew I like rum, but it was a surprise to those who figured the guy who runs the Whiskey Forge must be all about whiskey and nothing else.

"Oh, not at all," I countered. I tossed off a few of my favorites and then — tapping an impish streak — I brought up my other website, RumDumpster.com. It's a complete fiction. The site did not exist, but I enjoyed stringing them along for a bit with the prospect of such a risqué-sounding rum site (swap out one letter and its lewdness becomes manifest).

I played out the joke only long enough to savor their incredulous expressions and then admitted that no such site exists. "Rowley," one of them said with his hand on my shoulder, "If you don't buy that domain right now, I'm going to. It's perfect." 

Twenty minutes later, RumDumpster.com became mine. I redirected it to the Whiskey Forge, planning to launch a cheeky rum site. And then, as it does, life happens. The truth is that work is brisk and I don't have the time to do a proper second site by myself. So I let the domain lay fallow.

Now it's time to pass it on to someone who can make use of it. I'm selling RumDumpster.com.

Yes, I know websites devoted to domain auctions and sales exist. I'm not interested in those. Instead, I want to offer it to you.

What do I want?
Cash is fine (I'm always down for lucre, the filthier the better). But you all tend to be food and liquor people — make me an offer. Own a distillery and want to swap rum? That could work. Culling your liquor library of old titles? A trade is possible. You own a nursery and want to send me fruit trees? Yes, I could see that working, too. Perhaps you have big, antique hog-splitting cleavers your wife wants out of the garage? You know who to talk to.

Get creative. Make me an offer here in the comments section or email me privately: moonshinearchives (at) gmail (dot) com

When do I want it?
Make me an offer by the end of the day Friday, July 27th 2012. Let's make a deal. You know, a deal deal.
Hell, for that matter, make me a offer on the Whiskey Forge. I'm not planning to part with it, but that doesn't mean I won't.


Sunday, July 8, 2012

So Trashy: Raenelle vs Betty Sue on Peanuts and Pepsi

A few days ago, Lee Zalben over at Serious Eats ran the piece Ever Tried Peanuts in Coke? Well, obviously, yes. But memories of my own youth in the American heartland aren't what popped to mind when I read it. No, what sprung to mind immediately was a little side note about Raenelle and Betty Sue over a high calorie pick-me-up in Ernest Matthew Mickler's classic White Trash Cooking.

LOW CALORIE PICK-ME-UP
I glass skim milk
1 envelope sugar substitute
Blend in blender until foamy, then add 1 teaspoon McCormick's vanilla extract.

Try this on hot days when your cardboard Good-Shepherd fan makes you even hotter.

Betty Sue says: "This is a life-saver before Sunday dinner and just after church, when it's so hot you cain't hardly stand it!"
Essentially an old-school milk shake from back when they were simply milk, shaken. The sugar substitute, though, knocks it over into the realm of the vile. If you think so, too, perhaps something with a little more substance is your speed...
HIGH CALORIE PICK-ME-UP
Pour a small bag of Tom's peanuts into a cold Pepsi. Turn it up and eat and drink at the same time.
Raenelle told me that this was one of Betty Sue's concoctions. She said: “But it's so trashy she won't own up to it!"
Goes well with:
  • Check out Possum Up a Guava Tree, an earlier piece in which I give one of the recipes from Mickler's book for...well, something that goes with sweet potatoes.
  • I said it before but it's worth repeating: It’s all well and good to joke about white trash (the Blue Collar comics bank on it), but don’t dismiss Mickler’s book as sheer kitsch or merely a goof, though it is in part both those things. John T. Edge makes an eloquent case for Mickler as an intellectual, if not actual, peer of James Agee and photographer Walker Evans in his 2006 Oxford American article Let Us Now Praise Fabulous Cooks.

Friday, July 6, 2012

I Can Almost Hear the Theme Music


Surely one of America's greatest comics.

The Coming of Red Likker to Kentucky

In 1929, as the failures of Prohibition had become manifest even to the most ardently braying temperance hounds, the prolific American author and inveterate blowhard Irvin S. Cobb published Red Likker, his love letter to bourbon and Southern honor. It is not a particularly rare book. It is not a particularly good book. But I've hung onto my first edition for decades because it deals with whiskey — a topic dear to my heart —and for Cobb's brazen manhandling of the English language, which is at turns entertaining and appalling. He does not present the South so much as a caricature of the South.

The novel concerns the fictional Bird family of Kentucky and in particular Colonel Attila Bird who distilled a great deal of the red likker in question and who lived long enough to see Prohibition descend on America. In my mind, his voice hovers somewhere between that of the 1940's Senator Beauregard  Claghorn and that of Mel Blanc's diminutive Kentucky colonel from Dog Gone South. In other words, he's a joke, son. Or at least comical, though Cobb, a Kentuckian. no doubt intended to impart almost heroic qualities.

In an early section, Cobb describes an exchange from the 1790's between brothers Isham and Shadwell Bird. Before then, the whiskey with which the brothers Bird were familiar was white, none of this fancy barrel-aged stuff we take for granted more than two centuries on.

In his hand Isham held what Shadwell had bade him seek for in the saddle-bag. It was a wickered case-bottle, stoppered with a corn-cob.
 

"Tried it yet?" said Shadwell, his voice thickened,
 

"Not yet."

"Well, you'd best not lose any more time then. It's prime. Man, I tell you it's just prime! Primest ever I swallowed anywheres or any place."
 

"What is it ?"
 

"Likker. What else would it be but likker?"

"But it's red!" Isham was holding the flask up to the west and through the meshes in the plaiting the glass, by reason of its contents, showed him a deep russety-amber shade. That was puzzling.


"Shore, it's red. That's the joke about it. Red as stinkabus rum, e'en near it, yet powerful well-flavored. Take a swig and then tell me if it ain't about the potentest likker ever you put lip to."

Goes well with:
  • The Maine Julep  Cobb's unrelenting style in on show here as he excoriates a Maine bartender — “a criminal masquerading as a barkeeper” — who dared serve a julep that was not up to his Kentucky standards.
  • Red Likker is not a terrible book; it was just a product of its time, written by an author with a distinct brash voice, and has not aged well. If you'd like a copy, even first editions can be picked up online for less than $10. Jerry Thomas he is not.
  • Even the Ten Dollar Whore Sneered at Me, a look at how far white whiskeys have come in a few short years. 

Thursday, July 5, 2012

Oh, Belvedere! My First Memory of a Mint Julep

My ancestors never saw a mint julep, 
but they sipped five-day-old likker 
 out of ceramic jugs and Bell jars 
until they could not remember 
their Christian names.

~ Rick Bragg 
All Over But The Shoutin' 

My hometown of Kansas City, Missouri is, a generous drinks geographer might allow, on the outer periphery of mint julep territory. While juleps were not regular offerings, they did show up from time to time. Consequently, I acquired at an early age a fondness for these refreshing concoctions of whiskey and ice; certainly by the time I was working on undergraduate degrees, making one had become second nature.

Charlie Dog enjoys a julep
A recent viewing of the 1950 Warner Brothers cartoon Dog Gone South made me realize that my exposure to them came at a younger age than I first suspected. I must have seen it when I was five or six years old. The cartoon concerns the obnoxious Charlie Dog and his efforts to endear himself to a diminutive Confederate colonel. The colonel, alas, already has a dog, a certain Belvedere.

Charlie's minty repast on the veranda is short-lived. But the silver cup he commandeers from the colonel seemingly instilled in me a life-long appreciation for juleps. I'm beginning to understand why I like bulldogs, too...




Goes well with:

Tuesday, July 3, 2012

The Band


"Me and Elwood, we're putting the band back together."

God bless that man. It's about time.

Bourbon Women to Gather at Maker's Mark

I once teased Hollis Bulleit, asking her what sort of woman drinks bourbon. “Sassy broads,” she informed me, “drink bourbon.”

I've found that generally to be true. I do like the company of sassy broads, especially with Hollis in tow. Vodka drinkers fade into the background, but  a woman who orders bourbon right out of the gate has my immediate attention.

Clusters of such bourbon-drinking women sometimes gather to guzzle, sip, or otherwise imbibe that "true and uncontaminated fruitage of the perfect corn" as Irvin S. Cobb put it. What's not to like?

Victoria MacRae-Samuels
Next Thursday, July 12th, Bourbon Women will convene at Maker's Mark distillery for a behind the scenes look at the distillery (which is on the National Register of Historic Places and is a National Historic Landmark) led by Victoria MacRae-Samuels — "the only female Vice President of Operations in the bourbon industry."

That last bit seems more of a strange marketing angle (I wonder if the ranks of America's nearly 400 craft distilleries were polled for the stat), but if I qualified for membership and were in Kentucky, I know where I'd be next Thursday.

Details for the four-hour tour are on Bourbon Women's site.

Goes well with: