Carrot Top

Wait. Just. A. Minute. What were the dates of the Victorian era? May I propose that my thesis be called "Victoria's Albert Conspiracy as Evidenced in America"?

We have them here too. Here, they are tiny little things in tiny little cans. With a tiny little price tag, and sold in grocery stores that specialize in tiny sorts of foods. Here, we call them Vienna Sausages. Some speculate that they are called Vienna Sausages to assure one of the cultural disconnect. Some people love them. Excuse me, I think I am hyperventiliating. Must go.

Nice site. Astonishing how everything can be traced back to Babylon. I hope I don't have a slip of the tongue next time I'm in a diner based on this new knowledge. Why, whatever would they think of me if I asked for a "Babylonian Sausage on a Bun"?

We are unafraid of putting our foots in our mouths here. Better a foot than a metre.

Absolutely right, Sandy. This is a vital question that we must pursue with vigor. I do hope that someone can inform us as to not only "how" it disappeared (which is quite mysterious, quite mysterious and enticing to the enquiring mind!) but additionally, for the full story indeed, WHERE it disappeared to.

Oh! Has anyone brought up the subject of the "foot-long hot dog" yet? Surely this exists solely in the US. I would love to know how that came about.

"Chip- buddy" or "chip-butty". . .sadly I must inform you that neither one exists in Cassell's Dictionary of Slang (such publishing company perched proudly on The Strand, you know, right-o) under "chip". This startled me. I had to presume that apparently in the British mind, the Chip Butty is a real thing, a real word, unlike our "hot-dog", a transfigured bit of slang. Fifty-five entries in this dictionary based upon "chip" and nary a butty. Finally I did find the entry under "butty". With a note about jam. Why did they insist on doing that backwards? Let's give this chip-butty thing some respect! Put it in the dictionary in the proper form! Not hidden, backwards, where one has to search for it. Crying shame. At least in America our hot-dogs stand proud and loud, never hidden away.

I dunno. Marvellous prose in that piece and much for the mind to linger upon in fascination, attempting to visualize the *exact* things he is talking about - but mostly what I took away from it is that hot dogs, in their current form in the United States - in the poverty of their makings - can be directly linked to all the hungry Brits who came here after the War. Something had to be made quickly and inexpensively that they would eat and eat happily without grumbling about it being too "spicy". And obviously something had to be made that would go with "beans on toast" which as we know, is a most British staple, and quite, uh. . .tasty? American hot-dogs are a product made for hungry Brits. Why. . .thank you, Jack! Thank you, and all of your compatriots!

I dunno. You might try that "get on the horse and lets go calving" idea. ← Oh. Sorry. Wait a minute. I may be quoting an Alan Simpson speech. Nah.

I dunno. You might try that "get on the horse and lets go calving" idea. A little hibachi grill in in the backpack for the mountain oysters-to be and some of that warm cheap beer, and ooo hoo! ................................................................. Well, of course another ploy, slightly different, could be to offer to bring fresh bagels by "for breakfast before work starts" some day. Just a friendly gesture, you know. Simple friendship. Bagels. Hot bagels. Cream cheese. A ripe tomato. Some smoked salmon perhaps? Forget the weekday. Bring some champagne and make it a Saturday thing.

Hot dogs, pizza, chicken nuggets, french fries. Someone should write a song about them. . . Raffi maybe?

Grrrr. Yeah. Chomp. Watch that "us", buddy. But here's a note on the subject from Vladimir Estragon. Wonder if he ever chomped on a mountain oyster during calving. . . "Though regarded with disdain by the chic, and horror by the alfalfa-sprout crowd, hot-dogs are flat-out wonderful. And versatile. Dripping ith hot onions and ball-park mustard from a Sabrett man, they taste like New York; served in little cardboard doo-hickeys and called frankfurters, they taste like America. They also make no unreasonable demands on the home cook."

It is possible that I wrote strongly about this issue, taking it slightly aside from the original question, but it seemed to me that to give the answer "Quit school" was not perhaps centered within the positive range of ideas for becoming a food writer, either - particularly as there was some experience being gained writing AT the school in this situation. My apologies if I over-reacted, but there are some things in life that can be unfortunate facts if ignored, and the fact is that sometime in some people's lives, they *may* actually need to find income through being employed by someone else - and the idea of saying "I've got talent" is not as good as the idea of saying "I've got talent; education in a traditionally acceptable form; and experience." This may not be all that important "right now" for the young woman asking the original question, but *if* she is ever out on the"job market" when she is say. . .35 or 45. . .competing with other folk for the same job. . .these things will be points in her favor. As for the punctuation notion and the grammar flammar, I totally agree. But on the other hand, I do like to see someone write about something that it does seem they have some knowledge of, rather than just shooting off their mouths. That, is an unfortunate pet peeve of mine, and it makes me lose my own smile too often. The only thing I've read that every single authority on writing says to do to be successful that is across-the-board "the same" is WRITE. And yes, humor is wonderful. I enjoy yours often at eG, Sandy. Sometimes humor in the form of parody can be "unhelpful", though, (to the writer) if someone reading it takes it in a serious form or if the reader finds things in it that perhaps are not "really" there (to the majority of readers) but only to the reader who for whatever reason may become angry at these perceived mal-intents. That's the only problem with writing humor.

Ouch. Sorry, but yes - you will get some flack for saying this. First of all, the question is about learning to write about food, not simply learning about "getting it" or "finding why it may taste a certain way". There is more to writing than "getting it". In your post alone, there are enough spelling and grammar mistakes to make any knowledgeable reader grimace. . .and unfortunately they are not the sort of "mistakes" that are simple to make. The mistakes show ignorance about "how to write". Did you take English classes at UCLA? What were your grades? Have YOU found a "great author" to mentor YOU? Can you give us an example of how you know it possible and it seems perhaps even probable that "great authors" (who do have their own lives to lead, books to write, and income to make) will merrily find the time to mentor a "young ambitious person"? Please note: I am not against the idea of working to learn, and am fully accepting of the idea that life often offers a "better" education than college. But it is also true that the most practical time for a person to attend university is when they are young, when they do NOT have the pressures of family or financial responsibilities. Any young person that has this opportunity should, in this day of credentialism in all fields, including the food business AND the writing business, take full advantage of it. To say "Quit" to someone shows a lack of forethought or of care. You have had the opportunity and you did it. Perhaps it *was* a waste of time for you. But it may not be, and generally is not considered to be - for most people. My final conclusion is that you must be writing a column at the moment on comparative tastings of spirits and have forgotten to spit and are swallowing intead. This is the only reasonable explanation for your presentation and your recommendation.

Let's not forget that old stand-by, Pistachio Pilaf with Pumpkin Pieces. Eat while playing Parcheesi.

I hope that as part of the festivities you will all take part in reciting "Peter Piper Picked a Peck of Pickled Peppers", finally culminating the game with a Grand Winner who of course will win a Precious Prize of perhaps some small Pecuniary Possibility or more Prettily, some small Peckadillo. One does not want to be too too Parvenu!!!

Busboy, you forgot to say how useful knowing how to wash the dishes is. . . Tepee, your story once again shows the Importance of Cookies. There is actually one thing I forgot to tell about. . .though I haven't *really* had a chance to try it yet. Chocolate paint. A chocolate company sent me a catalogue this year and in it (along with the usual bonbons and truffles and such) were some really thrilling things like Chocolate Voodoo Dolls and Chocolate Body Paint. The chocolate body paint came with stencils and a paintbrush. Now how fantastic is that! A mere can of chocolate paint and a brush is nowhere near as interesting as getting STENCILS with the kit. I ordered two chocolate voodoo dolls for my kids so that they could try to destroy the voodoo dolls instead of each other, and one paint kit for The Boyfriend of Carrot Top. For some reason the order was sent wrong and I got three voodoo dolls. What does this mean? Well, I gave it to him anyway. The paint kit would have been more aesthetically interesting, I do believe. P.S. Just saw the body-paint in TARGET of all places. Being sold WITHOUT the stencils, in the Valentines Day merchandise section. What is the world coming to?

In agreement with the concept of a meal being an actual activity and not simply a part of "multi-tasking". But hot-dogs do have their own place in America at the supper table of families. They have traditionally been a staple for families with budget constraints (sometimes to a fault perhaps ). Grilled or boiled hot-dogs (depending on the brand and how to best prepare) served on buns (sometimes, in the New England tradition, buns with open sides to grill with butter) with baked beans and coleslaw and potato chips or french fries. Not such a bad combo nutritionally, really. So the hot-dog *can* be a more serious, sit-down sort of meal if one wishes.

Might be worthwhile to plan a menu (write a menu) with adjectives beginning with "p" that describe the foods that begin with "p". Like. . . Pearlescent Parsnip Soup Porcine Pork Chops napped in Pickled Plum Sauce Philosophic Potato Puree Pedagogic Pineapple and Passionate Pomegranite Mosaic Passable Port

Well, yes Michael you are absolutely right. It was early in the morning and my attitude had obviously not been screwed on right yet. ................................................... Jack, here is something you might enjoy, from H.L. Mencken: "I devoured hot-dogs in Baltimore 'way back in 1886, and they were then very far from new-fangled. . .they contained precisely the same rubber, indigestible pseudo-sausages that millions now eat, and leaked the same flabby, puerile mustard. Their single point of difference [. . .] their covers were [. . .] not the soggy rolls prevailing today, of ground acorns, plaster-of-Paris, flecks of bath-sponge, and atmospheric air all compact."

Mmm. Well then. Other than blurting out "Let's go get drunk, baby!" what might one do? Here's a subtle ploy. . .we all know education is important. Therefore going to an evening wine seminar would be VERY educational. Very important. And of course one would ignore the part where they say "Spit out the wine". Oh! Even better would be a visit to a local wineshop offering a tasting, on Saturday afternoon. . .before a movie or something. I've seen people get totally plastered at these things. Or. . .telling someone that you REALLY need some help deciding whether this certain bottle is worth the price you paid for it or not? Everyone does want to feel USEFUL.

Yeah. . .they may not be krispy or creamy but sadly they are often the best doughnut to be found for thousands, literally thousands, of miles around (short of getting out the batter and the fat and the deepfryer oneself. ).

Here are the additional definitions from the same book: hot dog - one who is particularly proficient at an occupation or activity, esp. a successful gambler. hot dog - 1. good, excellent 2. showy, flamboyant hot dog - pornographic hot dog - to chase, to harass hot dog! - an expression of delight hot-dogger - a show-off, a braggart and finally. . . . hot dog stand is open - a warning to a man that his trouser-fly is open. Note: I made an effort to drop some connecting words in both posts to conform to copyright laws but did not leave out anything eh. . ."meaningful".

As Behemoth noted: "In most other places I've lived it is seen as kind of rude to eat while walking around...this is what sets Americans apart, I think." Probably the point should be made here that one can not be considered a true "New Yorker" without learning how to quickly slide into a pizza place, shout out "One slice, please!" then proceed to walk down the most crowded streets one can imagine while delicately eating a half-folded pizza dripping cheese and sauce off its sides while maintaining a loud conversation with your companion and while not dripping a single spot onto your clothes. * People who eat hot dogs in New York without spicy onions in sauce or steaming piles of sauerkraut sliding off the ends while they walk and talk through the crowds are also wimps. Or wusses, depending on one's background. Standing still to eat either item is considered boorish and rather rude. Ah. I can't wait to visit the city again. These children need their training in how to do this amazing task with hot dogs and pizza. All in the name of good manners, you know. ......................................................... As to the word itself, here are the definitions from "Cassell's Dictionary of Slang" by Jonathon Green: hot dog: 1. a spiced, heated sausage or frankfurter (cf. NEW YORK TUBE STEAK) 2. the penis {SE since 1939 when served under that name by the Coney Island Chamber of Commerce to FDR and his guests, King George VI and Queen Elizabeth, the hot dog started life as slang. It probably comes from heavy-handed mid 19C humor focusing on supposed use of horse-and-dog meat as sausage filling, a concept accentuated by the 1843 scandal concerning dog-meat. The image was intensified in 1860 by the use of Hundewurst, dog sausage - to mean smoked frankfurter sausages - larger sausages were Pferdwurst, horse baloney. The dachshund, of course, is a "sausage dog". So, really. . .what can you expect of something that started its life as slang?! It *will* continue to insist on being slangy in every way it can think of. *P.S. IN high-heels for the females and WITH a bulging briefcase being carried by the males. Or switch 'em around. I don't care.

Recently, as the New Year began, it seemed that there was a spate of increased interest in the idea of romance (to put it mildly) in the annals of eGullet. Bond Girl wrote of a dining and dating adventure and the interesting follow-up, FabulousFoodBabe asked what it would take for us to ditch someone with romantic potential for their ways with food, and it seems that in general the subject is high on the radar here. Which brought to mind the question: (As Valentine's Day is near, and planning must begin for those with intent towards seduction. . . ) What ploys have you ever implemented or considered implementing in the ways of using food and all that concerns it, towards the final result of getting a date, or finding a sweetheart ? Cooking a meal is the obvious answer - an invitation to a "home-cooked" meal is always a good ploy in general. But there are more. In my own experience, I am quite sure that I have been brought close to seduction by several, more Macchiavellian methods (which I greatly appreciate in their subtlety!). *Being invited to a dinner at the fellow's mother's home. His mother was the most amazing cook in the world. (Probably I should have married her, not him, but life is full of mistakes. . .) *Being tricked into thinking that a certain man was both a connosieur of fine food AND fine literature as he took to walking by me often with either a good cookbook or a copy of Oliver Twist in his hand as if he was reading it. (Later he admitted this was a ploy - he did not open any of these books, they were merely props in the game of love ) *Being given a handmade bouquet of flowers that was composed of some wooden skewers from the kitchen with brownies and cookies stuck onto them. . .( ) Points for creativity here. . . *One that was rather ridiculous was when a fellow came into my office and picked up a huge Oreo cookie paperweight that I had on my desk, saying brazenly that he LOVED Oreo cookies and that he HAD to have this one . . .which he then walked right out of my office with, carrying it into his office where I finally had to go to retrieve it and also then get questioned about whether I wanted to date him. . . The only thing I have ever done as ploy is just plain old cook a meal. I had to, for as a chef, nobody ever offered to cook for me. A favorite romantic ploy still remains in my mind, undone as of yet. Of course it is rather complicated and I could never really figure out how to do it, but I love the idea. It's an elevator fantasy, really. But it involves chocolate chip cookies. Now for those of you who might claim that it is merely an elevator fantasy, I must tell you that you are dead wrong. If there were no cookies involved, the thing would be merely tawdry. Cookies being involved raises the thing to a higher level, I believe. Think about it, do. Into the elevator I go with my huge stack of cookies. There are too many on the plate. They are precariously balanced. The elevator stops on the next floor, and presto! Into it enters the object of my affections! He smiles and says something noncommittal. I blurble something stupid back, too shy to really talk to him. The elevator ascends, then suddenly! It stops with a lurching motion. It goes up and down, up and down, toppling the two of us slightly sideways. Then with a huge creaking noise, it bounces up and down to a sudden stop! The cookies fall everywhere. . .and so do we, as he tries to save the cookies from falling. Well. You can imagine the rest, if you'd like. Never could pull that one off, though. So. . .have you ever thought of or implemented a romantic ploy based upon food in the many ways it could be used? Has it worked? Or was it a dud? Tell us a tale, if you will. . .