Holly Moore

"The third place winner was announced today," proclaimed Fat Guy showily.

Welcome to eGullet, Sara. It's just Tommy's way of saying hello. Tommy's humor, like dark beer, often takes a few exposures to appreciate. The longer some are on the site, the more they savor it. Others prefer Diet Coke. A while back we had an extended discussion of a Chowhound-bonified shill, Katie Loeb. That's the reference, all in good humor. I'm planning on heading to New Joe Shanghai soon. Sounds well worth the adventure to Chinatown.

Message drift, maybe. But back when I was working New Products for McDonalds in the Chicago Loop we used to head north a few blocks to a joint called Hobson's. An Irish bar downstairs and a dining room upstairs. The dining room was famous for two reasons. Incredibly good Dungeness Crabs and that the two lunch waiters were disbarred lawyers. To say the least lunch was table versus server, definitely an adversary relationship and definitely great fun. Wonder if Hobsons is still around / has changed over the years? Wonder what happened to the servers, esq.?

Sorry, no brains. Most anything else, but no brains. Never, ever again.

Here's the thing about root beer floats. Sounds like a great concept. Looks good in the mug. But: 1. The Foam. Some sort of wierd chemical reaction goes on between the root beer and the ice cream. It produces an empty and strange tasting foam. Always reminds me of the baking soda volcanos that won blue ribbons at junior high science fairs. 2. The Ice Cream. It is impossible to eat. Too slithery to whack at with a spoon and too bouncy / buoyant to get one's mouth around. A root beer float should not cause such frustration. That said, I am not a fast learner. I always order a root beer float when it is on the menu. And if someone ever engineers out the frustration and builds a better root beer float, I will beat a path to his door.

Consider the worm can opened. As I understand it, a mandatory service charge is put there to protect the servers from being, horror of all horrors, undertipped. This occasionally happens with large parties for any number of reasons, and it is the resauranteur's responsibility to make sure that the servers (whom he probably pays less than minimum wage) don't get stiffed. So: 1.) It doesn't matter whether the server gives poor service to a large party, he still gets his mandatory 18 percent. Is the purpose of the tip to motivate / bribe the server into giving good service or is it to make up for the very low hourly rate paid the server by the restaurant? 2.) If 18 percent is the proper gratuity, then apply it across the board. Servers earn no more or no less than an 18% tip. Anything over that is refunded or given to charity. Doesn't seem fair that the server shares all of the rewards and none of the risks. This way, no 10% tips, but no 25% tips either. 3.) How would you handle it if at the end of the meal I said I was very dissatisfied with the service and only wanted to leave 10%. How would you handle it if at the end of the meal I said I was delighted with the service and wanted to leave 30%? If the answer in either case is that you would allow me to adjust the tip, then why the rule in the first place?

Had ribs in lawnside last Sunday. Place called Nina's Bar-B-Q. 351 Evesham Avenue, open Thurs - Sun. They're trying hard. Real nice folk. An incredible sauce. Great sides. But the ribs were tough. It's my guess they ran out and tried to rush cook some more. They ran out for the evening a few customers after us. But the place had enough going for it that it's definitely worth a return bout. Homemade banana pudding too. Chunks of banana on the bottom and topped with vanilla wafers. Nothing wrong with that. Best ribs I've had in the city. The ones I wrote about earlier, that Jack serves at the Firehouse. Full of meat and fall-off-the-bones tender.

Lovefest? Nope. Just great respect for those that built a 65 year Philadelphia tradition and happiness that it is going to continue on pretty much unchanged.

Philadelphia rib heritage lives on at 1627 South Street. It used to be Bea Bea's Lawnside. (Lawnside is a town in South Jersey that always has a good rib joint or two within its city limits.) Miss Bea ran the Lawnside well into her golden years. Only one steadfast rule, a hand written sign over the cash register "No $20 bills." Least appetizing aspect of the place was the way too naked poster of the way too hairy impresario Harry J. Katz. Took some powerfully tasty ribs to get one's appetite back after that. Miss Bea was up to the challenge. Ron Washington took over when Miss Bea retired. Ron grew up next door. Miss Bea knew him well; knew he'd carry on the Lawnside's tradition. Ron did Miss Bea proud. Rebuilt the barbecue pit, took down the No $20 Bill sign and the Katz poster. Changed the name to Ron's Ribs and put his mother in charge of baking the cornbread. Pretty sure the greens are her's too. Best greens in the city. Ron had big plans. A blues club upstairs. More blues out front on the sidewalk on Sundays. Another Ron's Ribs off North Broad. Ron wanted everything to be just right. Painted his home phone number on the wall so folks could call him if they had a problem. Things fell off a bit when he became ill. But while he was a presence, great ribs and great sides. Ron passed away about six months ago. Way too young. Shortly after a sign appeared in the window. Ron's Ribs would be closed for a while and would open early in 2003. Ron’s is a couple of blocks from where I live and I made a point to walk by every week to see if anything was stirring. The sign disappeared in February. But nothing was happening. I figured Ron's was up for sale and hoped it would stay a rib place. This afternoon someone had propped open the screen door. A couple of kids were playing on the stoop. Inside some people were cleaning. I popped my head in. "We're still closed but we will be opening in a couple of weeks." One of the guys introduced himself. Kevin Washington, Ron's younger brother, just out of the Navy. "It's all going to be the same. Same menu. Same cooking. Still in the family." I asked about the name. Kevin pointed to the sign. "Ron's Ribs. This is his legacy. We're going to keep it going."

I thought Rudy outlawed that sort of retail establishment.

From a Philadelphian who isn't totally up on all the Big Apple food personalities, I expected this thread to be about a new chicken place opening up. The name might similarly be confusing to a few million less culinarily aware Big Applites. Probably too late to change the name though.

Considering the state of most supermarkets hereabouts, you might instruct your realtor to locate you within a reasonable drive of a Wegmans.

I'm guessing there are two Moody's diners. The one open fall, spring and winter that feeds the locals and the one that is cram packed full of tourists like me come summer time. I've gone there a few times with great expectations and departed unsatisfied. Always for breakfast, so can't speak to the other meal periods. I'm also thinking that the Moody's you discovered back in the 80's is not the same Moody's I've been in during my recent summer adventures along the Maine coast. Might I, a tourist, point a genuine Downeaster to The Crossroads Restaurant way up north in Pembroke ME. Some of the best fried clams I'm ever had and well worth the trek.

I'm thinking Cornish Pasties and Cherry Cider.

My favorite hot mustard is yellow, but it's not French's. It's called Factory Mustard and is stone ground by Raye's Mustard Mill in Eastport, Maine. Factory mustard is the mustard that Rayes sold to the sardine factories in Northern Maine. Nowadays the packers all use dried mustard, but Raye's is still milling Factory Mustard. Factory mustard, while yellow, has a good kick. It's a little thinner than regular mustard and just the right consistency for a squeeze bottle. There's a small hot dog shack, Rosie's on the Town Wharf in Eastport that sold me on Raye's factory mustard for dogs. Mustard on fries. Interesting and a new one for me. Is this regional or a personal quirk? Either way I'm going to give it a try.

I have four. Here in Philadelphia, Jack McDavid's Down Home Diner. I'm a regular for breakfast and eat lunch there whenever I'm on jury duty or fighting a parking ticket. Solid down home, down south cookin'. The others I've only been to once, but they have the perfect feel. If I lived near any of them I know I'd be a regular. In Owego NY, the Harris Diner. In Brattleboro VT, the Royal Chelsea. And as of yesterday, Sunday, outside of Salem NJ, the Deep Water Diner. Harris, Royal Chelsea and Deep Water are all real diners. Proud of the heritage with no desire to cover their facade with fake stone nor to upscale their ambience with plastic wood and ferns nor their menu with non-dinerish entrees. Harris and Royal are both build of wood, curved roofs, like the inside of an old railroad car. Deep Water is an oldfashioned Jersey Diner. No added rooms. No cocktail lounge. A diner's diner. Nowadays most diners aren't diners at all. Some don't even call themselves diners anymore. Unhappy with their lot and aspiring to a more upscale image, they gussy themselves and their menus up and in the process lose much of what it is that makes a diner so special. Only thing worse are those nouveau diners popping up at interstate exit ramps. Shiny chrome fronts, inside a carefully planned decor that could be straight from Happy Days, and trying way to hard too be a real diner.

I think you'll find that as a normal practice that that is in violation with the rules of the various credit card companies with whom you do business. It is, in effect, the same as charging a premium to those who use credit cards.

Jersey seems so far away.

Not all KrispyKreme donuts are great. The key to KrispyKreme is their freshness. Most KrispyKremes do a high volume of wholesale. They're frying donuts around the clock, meaning donuts are always fresh, hot out of the fryer. Tradition has it that the counter people take your donuts hot off the conveyor belt. Nowadays gas stations, Starbucks and such are selling KrispyKremes. These are fine, but not all that special. The Krispy Kremes that merit raves are from the KrispyKreme stores.

So I was plotting my route from Philadelphia to the new Wegman's in Downingtown. It used to be one could click a button at the bottom of the search and learn of any KrispyKreme donut shops along the way. To my horror such information is no longer available. Now the choices are Holiday Inn, Borders and Jiffy Lube. While Jiffy Lube brews a decent cup of coffee, there are no donuts - at least none that the staff is willing to share with customers.

From the Philadelphia Inquirer: Wegman's

I checked. Self-indulgence is not one of the 7 deadly sins unless one considers it to be gluttony. What is so bad about self indulgence on the part of a writer? On a few occasions I have maintained that my writing is indeed self indulgent - I get joy from it and write about what is of interest to me. In passing I hope it is also of interest to my readers. As to my first bolognese - it was in Patchogue, I believe. My small apartment kitchen overlooking the canal leading into the Great South Bay. Prepared with the help of Ada Boni - her recipe for lasagna bolognese from "Regional Italian Cooking". I was indeed preparing it for my first love, me. But others seemed to enjoy it too.

A trip to Rochester would not be compete without a "white hot" or two. These are hot dogs - beef, pork and veal blends - that are neither smoked nor cured. Company called Zweigle's produces them and a number of places sell white hots. As I recall they are usually char grilled.

Depends on the focus of the writing. If one is sharing personal experience "I" is totally appropriate. The piece would seem cold without it. If one is writing about a chef or a restaurant then "I" probably gets in the way. Edit: What drove my editor up the wall is my tendency to drop the subject of sentences. Do that often with "I" as in this sentence or my opening sentence above. Used to argue with the editor that it was my "style" and totally acceptable as such. Don't seem to have gotten over it.

Here's a challenge I throw out every few months. How about a line of low glycemic index (sugar and white flour free) desserts for those who are diabetic and/or following a Sugar Busters style low carb diet? The numbers of diabetics is both staggering and growing. I suspect there would be great demand for such items both as pastries at a Starbucks type coffee shop and in fine dining situations.