MarketStEl

Keep hope alive, sister. (Edited to add: Or brother. Your username has a feminine ending which I'm not sure is required in all cases, which is the basis for my possibly erroneous initial assumption.) We can and have changed the way we behave based on ideas time and time again, for good and for ill. In fact, there's a famous cliche about this: "More powerful than mighty armies is an idea whose time has come." Always be equally conscious, however, that the Law of Unintended Consequences has yet to be repealed.

Don't get me started on that KC Messterpiece gloop. Most Kansas City 'cue joints serve their meats sauced, so even though you were served Texas brisket, it sounds like the proprietors engage in some BBQ fusion. (Edited to add: Similarly, burnt ends are also closely associated with Kansas City.) Whether or not they're aware they do, given how they came into the 'cue life, may be another matter entirely.

Burnt ends? Now I've got to try this place. Unless I'm very much mistaken, sweetness is a characteristic of Kansas City, not Texas, sauce, but then again, there's nothing that makes this exclusive to KC. Nonetheless, it is more closely associated with KC 'cue than Texas 'cue. (In his recent foodblog, in fact, Kent Wang noted that the best-known places in the Texas BBQ belt serve their meats without any sauce at all.) I'm not a professional by any stretch of the imagination, and in many ways I am still a student of barbecue in every sense of that term, but I'd be inclined to challenge the pedigree of the sauce on those grounds alone. Those ribs look mighty promising. ahem Nearest SEPTA service: Bus Route 70 from Fern Rock Transportation Center, Broad Street Line, or Bus Route 84 from Frankford Transportation Center, Market-Frankford Line, to State Road and Bleigh Avenue. The restaurant is one block further north.

I count 82 merchants based on the current merchants' directory (after adjusting for duplicate listings and those that have closed since it was published). 52 of those are listed above, and it looks like a 53d also signed. That's a little more than 60 percent of all the merchants in the Market. In a national election, that would be called a landslide margin; in a highly publicized local controversy of this type, I'd call it a convincing but not overwhelming majority. I'm not going to list here the names of those merchants not appearing on this list. As noted above, some were unavailable to sign, and still others are hard-working independent businesspeople whose businesses I would not want to hurt through a boycott. And there's the rub. In boycotting individual merchants for not signing, you are punishing them for expressing their opinions, not Market management for their actions. If you disagree with that opinion and feel that strongly about it, then you have every right to do so. But I think that would not be fair to the merchants involved on the other side of the controversy either. It may well be that the only way to register your displeasure in this fashion is to stay out of the RTM altogether. I'm not about to do that.

I tend to prefer the 4x100 vegetable relay myself.

Actually, V., what you had implied was that the folks at Mozaic didn't "understand 'the art of dining'" (my quote; the phrase in single quotes is Mozaic's motto, btw, and an allusion to its double function as restaurant and gallery/performance space) based on the pictures. Given your point about visual appeal, and given how "plating" is at the heart of that aspect of dining, your criticism is clearly within bounds, and even on target -- though IMO the appetizer platter demonstrates that the chef does understand the concept; he's just not practicing at an advanced level yet. We who came to eat that night weren't that concerned all that much about the presentation, though. And again, for $25, the presentation was more than adequate. As Scoats said about the taste of the food, I've seen less for more. Edited to add: Well, many of us were looking forward to the green beans sauted with sun-dried tomatoes....

Good points, both of you. And come to think of it, dividend, your .sig quote, while not reflecting "brand consciousness" the way this study or the thread you referenced does, taps into those same psychic associations. Obviously there was something about the all-you-can-eat pizza buffet that satisfied him in a way nothing else could, and never mind that most people would have found that something else better. (Of course, the possibility exists that the "something" was that it was all-you-can-eat, in which case, your ex was nothing more than a glutton, and you're better off without him/her anyway.) I guess I need to be careful not to throw the baby out with the bath water. But there's still something just a little unsettling about this, even if it does attest to the power of the other field my own is related to, namely, marketing.

Just me being too clever for my own good, Charlie. (Try Googling the phrase. It's a commonly used -- maybe even trite -- term that indicates a) an unexpected take on a subject b) something from an unexpected source c) something someone's heard before (used sarcastically in this case) d) some combination of the above.)

Associated Press story in today's Philadelphia Daily News: I don't even want to get into the implications for the concept of free will that this raises. It's bad enough to contemplate that our very psychophysiology can be branded and rewired in this fashion. And yet, on further reflection, this shouldn't be so surprising. There have been experiments over the years that have demonstrated that people will ascribe differences to identical items merely because one of them has a name that triggers positive associations. But how do we counter this trait? Can we train ourselves to put up psychic defenses against this sort of thing? Is it really worth it for us to do so? At the very least, we should consider restricting advertising aimed at the youngest and most impressionable.

Great writing, excellent cliffhanger pacing of your story, and how do you manage to get those pictures while working?

FTR, another country heard from, in today's Daily News Letters to the Editor section.

Gotcher back, Bob. That description above pretty much characterizes the goat cheese we ate Saturday night. I think that something stronger would have overwhelmed the herbs that had been added.

Talk about leaving us hanging! At least we know the story ends well. Portland is another of those US coastal cities that is beautifully situated and chock full of charm. I really can't blame the Oregonians for honoring where they came from. I recall reading that the land around the new settlement reminded them of Portland, Maine. Also: The reason Maine exists was so Missouri could enter the Union. Prior to 1820, it was part of Massachusetts. But Northerners in Congress were not about to admit another slave state without admitting a free one, so Massachusetts split off Maine. Back to the tale of the sea....

Pregrated? The cheese wasn't even grated. Those were slices of mozzarella on the pre-dinner snack. (Which means that someone took a slicer to a block of mozz, I think; I sure haven't run across pre-sliced mozzarella anywhere.) Yeah, the anything-you-want-as-long-as-it's-chicken selections on the prix fixe were odd; maybe Joan got a decent deal on chicken knowing in advance that she'd have one-third of the house full that night from our party alone. But the chicken was still good. And I swear that neither the goat cheese nor the hummus had strong flavors (well, not particularly strong for hummus, in that case). Then again, I may be going just by comparison to the salad that followed, which was pretty assertive thanks to the ginger dressing and spices on the chicken. Up to the level of the best restaurants in Center City? Far from it. But still well prepared and an excellent value for the money. And yeah -- I'm pleased to support and promote entrepreneurs like this one who are trying to bring depressed business districts and communities back to life. I know that we're supposed to be about the food, but if the food is good enough -- and it is here -- we can maybe pay attention to some of the other things we can do through food as well when we dine.

your friendship aside, if steinke's just a tool for the board to exercise their political pull and be petty and vindictive, then your faith in him is certainly misplaced, until he quits as a matter of principle. I'll reserve further judgement on that. This same board that is handling this matter so badly has also gotten the Market looking as good as it's ever looked, and it has also managed to address some infrastructure issues caused by prior decisions that turned out to be poor ones only in hindsight (e.g., shutting down the huge cold storage facility that lay beneath the Market; however, I think that facility used a refrigeration technology that had become either obsolete or too costly to maintain, which may mitigate the badness of that decision). That's why I used the conditional above rather than the definite. The only thing I can say for certain is that the Market is not an airport shopping mall, and whatever benefits may accrue to the institution's operations from "mall management," if the Market comes to resemble such a place more closely as a result, then going down that path will turn out in retrospect to be a decision that ranks up there with shutting down the cold storage floor as unwise, even if that's due to the Law of Unintended Consequences more than actual malice. Edited to add: I didn't think the preservationists had all that much political pull, though Councilman DiCicco -- my district councilman -- does have some. However, I still consider my councilman generally on the right side of urban development issues, and where he hasn't been, at least he thought them through. I can't imagine him behaving differently on the RTM board. (Before someone throws the casinos in my face, let's just agree that big money leads lots of people to do things they shouldn't, OK?) no it's not. it's a good sandwich, but the roast pork scores extra points for being the classic. ← True dat, James, but just because Pepsi Too^W^WNew Coke bombed doesn't mean that it's impossible to improve on a classic. IMO DiNic's has done so with the pulled pork.

Didn't get a good shot of it, Scoats -- you can make out its welcome in my exterior shot of the restaurant. I also need to correct an error in my initial post. Chef Michael doesn't live in Frankford itself; it was our waitress who is a neighbor of the restaurant. However, he does live in the Northeast, on the opposite side of the Boulevard, in Burlhome or Fox Chase or Rhawnhurst or somewhere near those. He's also the son-in-law of a member of our dining party -- I told you this was a family affair! (Socioeconomic geography lesson for the non-Philadelphians reading this: Roosevelt Boulevard is to Northeast Philadelphia what Broad Street is to the rest of the city -- its north-south spine. It's also a dividing line of sorts [a street as wide as the Boulevard can't help but divide a place]: the neighborhoods to its west tend to be more affluent in aggregate than those to its east. As the bulk of the Northeast's industry and manufacturing lay along the Delaware, its eastern border, this is also explainable in terms of employment.)

For me, it's rabe, hands down. My new dilemma is: Roast or pulled pork?

The one Indonesian meal I can recall eating here in Philadelphia was at the home of a retired Drexel math professor and his Indonesian lover. East and Southeast Asian cuisines in general are decently represented on the local restaurant roster -- lots of Vietnamese, plenty of Korean, even (at least) one each representing Laos (Cafe de Laos), Burma (Rangoon) and Malaysia (a chain at that -- Penang), but no Indonesian. However, I was in the big Vietnamese supermarket on Washington Avenue yesterday, and it had several varieties of chili sauces from ABC, one of the big Indonesian brands. I didn't see any of the other Indonesian sauces (including ketjap), nor did I check their spice aisle. Shwarma can now be found in many US cities with Middle Eastern populations, including this one. Even more common, though, is its Greek identical twin, gyros. (Though a Greek friend of mine tells me that what most US eateries call gyros is not what you get in Greece. I think that may be because many places use big pre-formed cylinders of ground lamb and beef, not the stacks of slices that I understand are used in the lands of shwarma/gyros' origin.) Haven't encountered it with sambal yet, though. Yogurt and tatziki sauces are the only ones I've yet seen. Gyros is one of my favorite international street foods. Has the Mexican version of this dish -- tacos al pastor -- made it to Europe yet? I've associated this dish with Armenians ever since I first encountered it in Watertown, Mass., home to one of the largest concentrations of Armenian-Americans in the US. (There, they spelled it "lahmejune.") It's a very convenient, versatile, and tasty snack -- there are many different ways to top it. I can get it frozen at a Middle Eastern grocery near the Italian Market, in a pocket of South Philly where many Lebanese live (there's a Maronite Christian church one block up from the store). I for one would love to go to sleep and wake up, Rip Van Winkle-style, some 75 years from now and see how the various ethnic cuisines have recombined and fused. You've already shared with us a Dutch dish invented in the days when it ran Indonesia; care to speculate on where Dutch cooking might go in the wake of the other cultures that now add spice to the country? As for the Gay Pride celebration: What mizducky said. Though I don't think I'd stand in the windowsill the way some of those spectators did.

When did Katie land behind the bar at Chick's, and when is she on duty?

Disclaimer: As owner Joan Oliveto had a special arrangement for our group last night, I really can't call this an impartial review, for this was a family affair of sorts, that family being Phillyblog, to which she too contributes. However, since Joan pours herself into this place, I have a strong suspicion that you, the random diner, will be treated as warmly as we were should you visit this restaurant, which I strongly suggest you do for reasons that go beyond the food. Welcome to Frankford! Northeast Philadelphia's historic downtown has clearly seen better days. The bustle has largely disappeared from its main drag, Frankford Avenue, after 5 pm. And the streetscape beneath the rebuilt Frankford El can hardly be called welcoming -- it looks as if all the merchants have fortified themselves against an invasion from someone, somewhere. All but one, that is. A couple of blocks south from Margaret-Orthodox El station, where the El lets a little more light onto the street: even more light emanates from a beacon of hope. Frankford today may be one of the more unlikely places in Philadelphia to find a fine dining establishment and jazz cafe. But Joan Oliveto has spent the past year (as of the weekend after Labor Day) creating not just that, but a place that seeks to be part of the fabric of the community. It was in that spirit that she pulled out the stops for a Phillyblog meetup Saturday night. As the dozen or so who attended -- all save me and my companion from the Greater Northeast -- arrived, we found our opener already on the table: Tomato-basil bruschetta topped with mozzarella cheese. Accompanying these were the sounds of a local jazz legend, drummer Butch Ballard and his trio. At 88, he still plays as skillfully as he did 60 years before: Sorry you can't see Butch in this photo. The drummer is blocked by other patrons on the right. This gives you an idea of the atmosphere in this spare yet cozy BYO that's also part art gallery. As I mentioned, Joan wants Mozaic to be a neighborhood institution in every sense of the term. While she can't source all her ingredients from Frankford, she can hire all the people who prepare and serve them to you. Chef Michael (didn't get his last name), for instance, lives about a block from the restaurant. His experience prior to Mozaic includes a stint at the White Dog Cafe. He came out between sets to explain to us what was on the four-course, prix-fixe "Phillyblog special" menu Joan had arranged for the evening. Just about all of us went for this special, which offered plenty of sensations for a mere $25. Aside from the appetizers, the special was chock-full of "ch" dishes -- chicken and chocolate. The variety came in the form of the appetizers, all quite tasty: Clockwise from top: Herbed goat cheese on Melba round, mini crab cake, Joan's handmade hummus on Melba round, cucumber slice topped with salmon mousse and chives. After the delicate flavors of these four treats, the salad woke us up with a punch of spice: Mixed greens salad with ginger dressing and chicken confit. The chicken leg confit strongly recalled jerk chicken in its blend of spices. From here, we had a choice of either an almond-stuffed chicken breast or a roasted half chicken, both served with Mexican rice and a vegetable medley. (Our server had gotten confused and thought the roast chicken came with our choice of the restaurant's regular sides; as a result, we will all have to come back to try the green beans with sun-dried tomatoes.) I went for the roasted chicken: which was perfectly prepared -- juicy with a lightly seasoned crust on the skin. The vegetables were cooked in a slightly vinegary broth with basil, a very good combination; the Mexican rice was flecked with peppers but otherwise not highly seasoned. A vegetarian companion across the table went for even more hummus with pita bread for dipping. The whole shebang ended with chocolate baked in puff pastry with a raspberry sauce. Some of us loved this combination; it didn't do all that much for me -- but that didn't keep me from polishing it off anyway. Sorry for the photo of a mostly-eaten dish: Of course, since we brought it with us, the wine flowed freely. My companion and I contributed the Estancia Merlot (above), a nice Chairman's Selection bargain; another diner brought a 2005 Chaddsford Red, and someone brought a Gallo(!) Family Private Reserve Pinot Noir that proved to be not bad at all -- slightly spicy and very mellow. But for my money, the evening's best wine was this in-your-face pinot noir from New Zealand, the other Australia: The regular menu, BTW, stretches well beyond chicken. In fact, it roams all over the world, mixing dishes from Africa, Asia, the Pacific Rim, eastern and western Europe, America, and your mom's kitchen, all reasonably priced: For about an hour or so, from roughly 8 to 9, the restaurant was packed with jazz lovers. Which brings me to the long-run operating challenge Joan faces: She needs to get a liquor license. It's clear that she has managed to build a clientele that comes for the music as much as, or more than, the food, but without a license, unless they're big juice, soda, tea or coffee drinkers, she can't really sell these people anything. And while it looks like she can continue to rely on the support of friends and neighbors for some time to come, ultimately she will no doubt want to add more variety to her roster of performers and dishes. Sooner or later, that's gonna cost real money. Joan Oliveto has a lot invested in this place, both financially and spiritually. But it's only a first step for her and her partner (whose name I forget; I got to meet him briefly before our party, which included Scoats, trekked up to his bar, the Grey Lodge Public House, for a few more hoppy returns): ultimately, they are on a mission to rejeuvenate Frankford and restore to it the liveliness it had when the Frankford El was new, back in 1922. It's a good first step. The two have drawn on their community to put together a welcoming restaurant whose totality is much more than the sum of its parts. The folks at Mosaic clearly understand "the art of dining", and they show lots of promise to get even better. Mozaic 4524-26 Frankford Avenue (at Kinsey Street) 215-535-5040 11 am-3 pm Monday-Tuesday; 11 am-8 pm Wednesday-Thursday; 11 am-10 pm Friday; 11 am-midnight Saturday. Live jazz every Saturday night; no cover. Nearest SEPTA service: Market-Frankford Line to Margaret-Orthodox station. The restaurant is two blocks south of the station.

The "gladly pay you Tuesday..." quote originated with Wimpy, a supporting character in the Popeye cartoon series. (Popeye himself isn't much help here, for he ate spinach.) I believe that there is (was?) a hamburger stand chain in the UK bearing this character's name.

Holly is 100 percent right about what makes the Market special. And I appreciate Bluehensfan's comparison and contrast with SEPTA (natch), but wish to correct him on one minor point: SEPTA's current management is not simply not trying to fix what's broken; rather, it is intent on breaking it some more. After additional conversations with people whose information has generally been reliable, I feel confident saying this: My faith in the current General Manager of the Reading Terminal Market is not misplaced. My trust in the wisdom of its Board of Directors might well be. One more thing: DiNic's pulled pork is even better than their roast pork, difficult as that might be to imagine.

Edited because I didn't read everything before posting... Michael: Arguments, I'm sure you'll get -- on both style and substance. It comes with the territory when you launch a work into a knowledgeable crowd such as this one. I still have my copy of Strunk and White from freshman year of high school, along with a more recent version. Anne: "In order to break the rules properly, you must know them first" is a maxim I live by and advise any would-be writer at the outset. I wonder whether this maxim is as applicable to cooking. --Sandy, donning padded suit to handle brickbats and vegetables

I arrived in Philadelphia in September 1983, as the Market was just beginning its recovery from its decade-long funk; my first foray into the place was a month or two before Rick Oliveri set up shop. That public outcry came a couple of years later, after the Reading Terminal had ceased to be a train station with the opening of Market East Station beneath it; it was sometime around 1986 or 1987 when the city announced plans to incorporate the Reading Terminal into a new convention center. By that time, the Market had already come a long way back from the near-dead, and the worry was that the Convention Center Authority would turn it into an appendage of the convention hall once it got its hands on it. That fear has never completely subsided, as some of the posts you see in this discussion should make clear. I think it's far easier to assign blame for its decline than credit for its revival. That blame falls squarely on the shoulders of the Reading Company, which worried more about the decline of its then-main business than it did about the market at the end of the line. (By the time I moved here, the Reading Company had become a real estate firm, which may account for some of the change in attitude; after all, if your main business is now making money from ownership of property, it would only make sense to maximize the use of your assets, and the Market was--and is--clearly an asset. The Reading Company also built the handsome Neo-Deco skyscraper next to the terminal that we now call the Aramark Tower; when it opened, it was briefly called One Reading Center.) Management and merchants alike share credit for the revival, IMO. I don't think anyone here has asserted otherwise. Right on. Usually it's management's job to see the big picture, though (tenants|employees|...) can often help management get that picture in focus.

The thing is, for most of the RTM's merchants, their RTM location is their only location. They and the Market as a whole depend on each other.