MarketStEl

This is one of those times when I will direct you to Whole Foods Market for something, namely, their deli Cheddar, which is Tillamook from Oregon. I note that Tillamook cheese in prepacked half-pound bricks has begun to appear on Philadelphia-area supermarket shelves. As supermarket Cheddar goes, this brand's the best I've had yet--better than Cabot, even.

I know that Primo's is one of the city's best hoagie shops, and I also know that Primo's uses Thumann's, but I can't say I've seen lots of other places around here that do. D&W definitely dominates, and all the others--Hatfield, Thumann's, Freda--are minority choices. And of those three, the frequency of distribution appears to me to be: Freda, Thumann's, Hatfield. I've never seen Best's deli meats in this area.

I have been thinking this exact same thing, bandregg, and not only pertaining to food. Remember when you were a kid and you could run around your neighborhood during the summer all day cause there was usually one parent from each house actually there? The definition of neighborhoods, and neighbors for that matter, have really changed. People keep their windows and doors closed and their blinds down so as to have as little interaction with their community as possible...people are way too concerned with the notion of privacy. Don't get my wrong, I'm no nosy-nelly, but I like driving down my street and seeing or hearing activity from my neighbors houses...it makes me feel safe. ← Not only fabulous food, but city planning and sociology too? More than I bargained for! If you'd be at all interested in links to sites and groups that touch on subjects like this, PM me.

I have yet to run across Citterio down this way. As I've had the opportunity to taste identical products of the two leading meat packers in the Philadelphia region, I've invariably found that I prefer the Hatfield product to Dietz and Watson. (See my comment on the now-shuttered Planet Hoagie upthread.) Boar's Head, AFAIK, does not make cappicola. D&W produces an approximation it calls "hamcola", which sounds like a cross between Spam and Pepsi, but it will do if nothing else is available. I believe Hatfield also makes an Italian-style hot spiced ham, but I haven't had any yet except on a Planet Hoagie hoagie (again, see above). Frankly, D&W turkey breast is also acceptable, though it's not as good as Boar's Head.

Having once tried a "Philly Cheesesteak Pizza" (see comment in post immediately above) in a moment of temporary insanity, I can only second this comment. As for the general subject: Gimme a grill with a lid, several slabs o' ribs and a good dry rub, and I'm in hog heaven. Put me down for those strong cheeses, too, though I draw the line at limburger. (While I'm at it, let's not forget the crossbreed of these two--smoked cheese.) Yesterday, I was at a Fourth of July cookout where the grill (open) was being tended by a recent arrival from Japan who is taking English language classes at Temple. I surprised myself by commandeering the grill, on which he was quickly incinerating chicken parts amidst flames galore: "Here, you need to get those over to the side, away from the coals in the middle. The outside's burning while the inside's still nearly raw. Okay, we need to spread those coals out a bit. Can someone get me a cup of water? (Splashes water on flaming charcoal briquets) Okay, that's better." "Oh, that's right, you're from Kansas City," said a wide-eyed guest. I dunno--I think this was merely my Inner Macho Guy asserting himself, an event that occurs very infrequently.

This is our Tim Hayward's's opinion, and here's one man who doesn't think grilling is manly. Link to "Barbies for Boys." Oh, I laughed! ← Great piece, but once again, it contains evidence that if someone calls the sandwich they're making a "Philly cheesesteak," it isn't: Scoop out the bread? If you were making a grinder in Kansas City, maybe. Cheap cuts of meat, sliced finger-thick? I suspect those chopped and formed "sandwich steaks" you can get in your local supermarket may well come from said cuts, but the real deal is thinly sliced sirloin tip. Whatever--it has to be sliced thin, certainly thinner than your finger. Fresh buffalo mozzarella? Not strong enough to stand up to the flavor of the steak, even though it should produce a marvelously runny sauce a la Cheez Whiz, which some cheesesteak purists will tell you is the only acceptable substance to use on a cheesesteak. I am not among those purists, but if you must use a cheese whose name ends in a vowel, sharp provolone is the way to go. Pink on the inside? The meat should be too thin for this to even be a possibility. Boy howdy, the man couldn't have gone more wrong if he parboiled his ribs first, threw them on an open grill and called the result "barbecue"!

A study conducted a few years back suggested that there might be a link between the widespread adoption of HFCS and the dramatic rise in obesity in the U.S. I believe there's a discussion over in Food Media & News of an article suggesting that this link may not be all that strong--I believe the story reports that the authors of the original study have since gone on record as downplaying the connection--and that HFCS, while higher in fructose (a simple sugar that the body stores more readily than sucrose) than regular corn syrup, is not high in fructose in absolute terms--only a couple of percentage points higher than regular corn syrup.

Fresh mozzarella is a completely different animal from aged mozzarella to begin with, never mind where it's made. Oh, wait--Sargento is now distributing fresh mozzarella nationally, IIRC. If they were comparing this to the local product, I retract my statement--and can't figure out why anyone would want to buy fresh mozzarella not produced locally. Edited to add: Now that I've read the NandO feature, I stand by my original statement. Sounds to me like some palates could use some edjamacashun. (And the aged mozzarella mentioned in the article was the Food Lion store brand, BTW.)

And since we're talking about milkshakes, what about Kelis's?

Doesn't sound like "not liking anything" to me. Oh, wait--maybe your tongue was in your cheek? 'Cause I don't remember reading anything about the milkshake either.

Holly's taken care of the BYO angle. As for the state-run liquor stores, yes, they're still around, but they're light years better than they were when you last lived in the state. All are now self-service, brighter and more attractive, and many--especially the "superstores" and "Premium Collection" stores--have great selections of outstanding spirits and wines--some of the latter, thanks to the "Chairman's Selection" program, at jaw-droppingly low prices. You still won't find the loss-leader pricing on the regular stuff that you will find in neighboring states, partly because Pennsylvania prices still include such absurdities as the Johnstown Flood (1936) Relief Tax (this is now rolled into the shelf price). But you will find some supermarkets now with "Wine & Spirits Shoppes" (what the PLCB would rather you call the State Stores now) inside them and unified checkouts. Beer you still can't buy in supermarkets, and the state's beer laws still make buying it less convenient than it ought to be. And even though Pennsylvania is far from the Bible Belt, it is the conservatism of much of the state's interior--combined with the clout of the State Store employees' union in Harrisburg and, to be frank, the revenue the state makes off the system--that keeps the system around.

Yes, I read the labels too--I do have to watch sodium content when buying stuff for my partner, and I also avoid hydrogenated fats, with one exception: I find that my biscuits come out lighter when made with shortening than they do when made with butter. The new "Nutrition Facts" labels break out trans fats as well as saturated, monounsaturated and polyunsaturated fats, and this has led to at least one puzzling statistic: according to the "Nutrition Facts," Ritz crackers have 0g of trans fats per serving (~8 crackers--one ounce), yet partially hydrogenated vegetable oil appears on the ingredients list. How can this be? As I sometimes drink carbonated sodas, I haven't eliminated HFCS from my diet, but I have made one notable shift, from fruit juice to sports drinks, because the latter have significantly less sugars and total carbs. The added electrolytes don't hurt either.

OK, but it is from the Carolinas, and for rice, that'll do, as I believe most domestic rice is now grown in Texas. Which brings us to the subject of naming products based on associations or images, a subject I touched on in my own foodblog with the trivia question about Philadelphia cream cheese. It seems that this practice is actually quite common. In Philadelphia-area supermarkets (and I suspect elsewhere in the Northeast), one of the most widely available brands of rice is one called Carolina, which is made by a company in Texas called Riviana Foods. Similarly, you sometimes see a product called West Virginia Brand bacon in the stores; the small type informs you that the product is actually produced somewhere in North Carolina--as are some packages of Jamestown Brand bacon from the Smithfield Packing Company of Virginia. And then there was the sausage manufacturer in Brooklyn (NY) that I guess was forced to stop calling their smoked sausages Carolina Brand. They are now sold as Caroline Brand, but the "E" in "Caroline" on the packages is shaped so as to recall an "A". As a member of the Class of 1979 said about his Harvard experience, "I don't know how widespread this deception is, but I imagine it will continue as long as there are Ohioans." I assume that manufacturers choose these names because shoppers associate these locales with the foodstuffs in question. Which, I guess, is flattering to the locale, but somewhat misleading. Oh, one more thing: I had asked upthread what sorts of fish and seafood local fishermen caught.

My reaction upon reading LaBan's debut article in the Inquirer and his first few restaurant reviews was, "This guy overwrites horribly." I no longer hold that opinion, which means that either my definition of what constitutes overwriting has gotten looser, or his prose has gotten tighter, or maybe both. (I think the final turning point for me was his wonderfully acid trashing of Trust, with a closing sentence that I thought perfect.) As far as "being educated" is concerned: It strikes me that "learning how to eat" in the sense that Alan Richman might use the term is something one picks up by experience. Cooking classes might also help insofar as they can introduce you to various flavors and principles of how they interact. But I don't know of any sort of educational program that deals with food the way wine-tasting classes deal with wine, and it seems to me that it's that level of sophistication that some of the critics in this forum find lacking in the lower-tier restaurant reviewers here. I guess this is my own bias showing, but I'd place a higher value on the ability to write well. The reviews I've read by Philadelphia Weekly's main reviewer, for instance, are consistently very well written, and I usually learn something useful about the places being reviewed. You may have a point about reviews in which the reviewer is mainly telling us what his or her companions thought about the food--presumably, we are reading the article to find out what the reviewer thought about it--but if they're well written and show some signs of basic intelligence, I wouldn't come down too hard on them. (Not having read the offending review in its entirety, I can't pass judgement on it yet.)

Is Chuck your hubby? He's a very good illustrator. (Wilmington, NC, at the east end of I-40, sticks in my head because it figured in an historical essay I read once that argued that the reign of Jim Crow in the South was not inevitable, using Wilmington--whose main institutions and public facilities were thoroughly integrated throughout the post-Civil War 19th century--as a counterexample.) What sort of seafood do North Carolina fishermen catch? Good luck with your weeklong effort to eat "close to home."

Thanks, Lori, for sharing a great week with us and giving us a glimpse of life and food in the Keystone heartland. I've no doubt your kids will do well in the world thanks to your guidance. Now I've got to find someone around here who hosts Tupperware parties so I can get a loud-colored plastic bowl of my own. (The big orange melamine salad bowl I once had I left at a potluck years ago. The one big plastic storage bowl I have is...beige.)

Geographical aside with mass transit content from an outsider who is nonetheless familiar with the region's geography: For statistical purposes, Greater Washington and Greater Baltimore are now one single metropolis, like Dallas-Fort Worth. But just as no one in the Metroplex would confuse "Big D" for "Cowtown", so Baltimore and Washington remain distinct places. Annapolis is part of Greater Baltimore. You can get there from downtown Baltimore on buses run by the Maryland Transit Administration, the agency that runs Baltimore's mass transit system. You can't get there from Washington on buses run by the Washington Metropolitan Area Transportation Authority. Think of Washington, Baltimore and Annapolis as forming the end points of a right triangle. The hypotenuse runs from Baltimore to Washington, and Annapolis is the base of the right angle. Baltimore to Annapolis is 17 miles, and Baltimore to Washington 39. 'Nuff said.

Except for the Cool Whip, each has its time and place. Since I outed myself over on the Miracle Whip thread, I should note that you get a tangier potato salad with Miracle Whip than you do with mayo. And I believe I noted in my foodblog that you can make a very good mac 'n' cheese with Velveeta.

Keep in mind that all newspaper writers and broadcast journalists can be divided into two types: Those who majored in journalism or communications in college, and those who majored in a subject they wanted to cover. I would daresay that the majority of newspeople outside maybe the top 5-10 percent of newspapers and broadcast outlets in the US fall into the former category. In J-school, they teach you how to write news stories and journalistic ethics. What you're writing about, you have to learn on your own. Since everyone eats, I don't think most food writers go into the subject thinking they need any special education. But learning how to recognize subtle flavors is not something most of us come by naturally. However, I don't think there's a collegiate major that covers this subject. Caveat lector, I guess. --Sandy, political science major in college

After this post, and those pictures, don't be surprised if you get PMs from some of those "knowledgeable and serious restaurant foodies" asking you for recommendations for charming B&Bs in the Gettysburg area. mizducky and I share our college experiences (we were at Harvard at the same time) and our love of Steely Dan, but prior to this, I imagined that you and I didn't share that much besides the same home state. But--as Chufi noted before--reading a blog like this reveals how even people who live lives as different as yours and mine nonetheless can share many things in common: Besides a love of good food and cooking, in this case, there's also a love of British sitcoms--I don't know how many times I've seen that episode of "Are You Being Served?" in the photo upthread. I hope you have many episodes of "Keeping Up Appearances" in your collection as well--I don't think there's been a funnier sitcom, ever, on British or American TV. (Something tells me that your sense of humor isn't warped enough to go all the way to Monty Python. But I may be wrong about that. It wouldn't be the first time.) I don't think I've enjoyed reading a blog as much as I have this one. Thanks a bunch for sharing what looks to me like an absolutely wonderful life with us. Edited to clarify a pronoun reference.

Keep in mind, Pontormo, that when it comes to mushrooms, in our part of the country, you're almost always going to find local product, as Pennsylvania is the nation's leading musrhoom-producing state. It will be California fungi fans who will have to look long and hard for local 'shrooms in their nearest WFM. Frankly, given the ideals John Mackey strives to espouse, I can't see how he could have done otherwise than make this announcement after having gotten called publicly on having a less-than-thorough commitment to supporting local producers. The logic of the large-scale enterprise, to be frank, runs in the opposite direction--they're not called "economies of scale" for nothing--and in terms of what the final buyer--the consumer--pays, it's usually cheaper to follow that logic. I must consciously override my own impulse towards frugality to pay double what I pay for the California lettuce to buy local, even though my crisper test suggests to me that the more expensive head is actually the better buy as I don't have to toss it before it's all used up. Similarly, it probably takes a conscious act to counter the impulse to go with a steady, constant supply of merchandise for many stores in favor of going with the variations that are likely to occur with local supply. So regardless what you think about bigness per se--and I suspect that the real issue many have with WFM or suppliers like Earthbound is not that they are hypocrites but that they are so large--give the CEO some credit for at least making an effort to remain true to his values. Now that I've just written this, I realize that what's also at work here is a somewhat romantic revolt against industrial logic in general. The principles on which industrial production--and most national chains--rely are consistency, predictability and uniformity: You will find products of identical quality and character no matter where or when you purchase them, and you will be able to find them at any time of the year in just about any place you go. Local, artisanal production is based on a completely different set of principles: Quality matters, but the quality may not be identical from piece to piece; authenticity trumps uniformity. Supply will vary according to a number of factors, including whether the producer got up on the wrong side of the bed that morning. And you may not be able to find the same things you found on your last visit at your next one. At heart, we have two competing visions of how society and production should be organized, which takes us into arguments much bigger than this forum can address. The argument over food is merely the larger argument in microcosm.

God bless you, Lori. That must be, um, a huge weight off your shoulders. I'm pleased that you have adjusted to your new routine well--and that you seem to maintain good humor throughout it all. I'm assuming that where you live, the Big City is one of the following: 1) York, 2) Lancaster, 3) Harrisburg, 4) Baltimore. Or is it 5) Gettysburg? How long is his commute to work? (For comparison purposes, mine is one hour in length door-to-door and about 17 miles in distance, all on mass transit. Highway commute time would be about half that, as I travel in the reverse-commute direction.) I guess I should be thankful I came of age in the 1970s, when those gender-role stereotypes were beginning to break down. I did take cooking mini-courses in high school--of course, as I went to an all-boys private school, I had to travel to the all-girls sister school up the road to do it, but hey, progress is progress! I did, however, also take architectural and engineering drawing. It's taken a little longer for the women to make it into those ranks in a major way. I recall reading somewhere that the smart way to really cut your grocery bill was to "turn your pantry into an extension of the supermarket"--that is, buy lots and lots of nonperishables when they're on sale (preferably with coupons on top of that) and keep a backup supply of your staples on hand at all times. Looks like you've taken this advice to heart. Have you ever taken the time to calculate how much you save on your grocery bill compared to regular prices? I'll bet the number will both surprise and please you. We used to buy Shurfine products at the small supermarket in my eastside Kansas City neighborhood. As store brands go, it was okay, but not great. Acme brand products have been generally pretty good, with the exception of refrigerated OJ and cheddar cheese, and America's Choice is hit-and-miss, but has really good cheeses and household products. I really cannot understand the unwillingness of some people to even consider store brands. Buying a product and deciding afterwards that it doesn't satisfy you is one thing, ruling it out in advance simply because it's not nationally advertised is another thing altogether.

I'd say they're worth a try, even with the minor disappointments. It'd have to be an early meal, though. No alcohol served, and I don't know if they'd let us bring our own. I could always ask.

FWIW: As promised, here's my full report on that Cajun-Creole place in Chester, De' Essence of New Orleans.

The Commonwealth of Pennsylvania recently cut the ribbon on a major, much-anticipated widening of State Route 291 through Chester. This highway runs from South Philadelphia past Philadelphia International Airport through a string of industrial communities that line the Delaware between Philadelphia and the Delaware state line. Amidst the refineries, defense aviation plants, port terminals, paper mills, power stations and other assorted flotsam and jetsam, one finds an occasional place to eat. Most of these places serve everyday fare for working folk: hoagies, burgers, steaks, chicken and assorted diner fare. Ever since Walber's, the waterside restaurant and motel in Tinicum Township, closed, there's been no real reason to seek out any of the places that dot this highway for interesting food. That's not the case any more. In perhaps the least likely spot ever for such a place to exist, a little piece of New Orleans has taken root in the shadow of the Commodore Barry Bridge: Thanks to the road-widening project, it's real easy to get to De' Essence of New Orleans, which sits right smack on Route 291--or, as it's known in most of Delaware County, Industrial Highway. Amid the battered landscape of Chester's West End, which, like the rest of this faded industrial hub, has obviously seen much better days, De' Essence, like its namesake city, offers a splash of color in a place that could use lots of it. The surroundings The restaurant The restaurant is owned by a couple by the name of Wade, native New Orleanians who have relatives in Chester. When Hurricane Katrina drove them from their home, their relatives invited them to move up here, and to keep their spirits up, they decided to do something they knew well: cook. The restaurant occupies what was once a lunch counter for local factory workers, and it retains much of its original appearance. They have decorated the place with postcards and pictures of the Big Easy and laminated clippings from the area press, which reported widely on the opening of this place. The woman in the center is "Pinky" Wade, the co-owner. The menu is small but offers many Cajun/Creole staples. As it turns out, some of the items listed as "specials of the day" on the right are available other days of the week as well. Perhaps I should have asked whether they served crawfish etouffé, mentioned in their ad in The Chester Spotlight but nowhere to be found on the menu; I might have been as pleasantly surprised as my dining companion who found out that yes, they did have red beans and rice--Monday's and Wednesday's daily special--on Thursday. Unfortunately, they did not have the other Wednesday special, the gumbo, which my other dining companion wanted to try. As for me? Well, this is Philly, where we know sandwiches, so I had to try one of the few sandwiches with as much lore surrounding it as the hoagie, the po' boy. (I've actually had them before--I'd eaten my share in the summer of 1978, which I spent selling dictionaries door-to-door in New Orleans.) Alas, I was to have only half the experience. They had plenty of shrimp, but no French bread, so my po' boy came out on a Kaiser roll. Companion Number One had better luck with her red beans and rice: but Companion Number Two got less jambalaya than he bargained for. Apparently, our waitress got some wires crossed when we ordered, for she brought out a side-dish portion of jambalaya rather than a main-dish one. If they allow this to be done with all their main dishes, this could be the basis for a great Cajun/Creole tapas meal, for the side dishes are all $1.50. Both my companions noted a relative lack of sausage in their dishes. Pinky explained that this was because they had been having problems obtaining the right sausage. Back in the Big Easy, they had a favorite supplier of andouille. The supplier's plant (and I imagine their place in NO) was in the Lower Ninth Ward, which, as we all know, got wiped out by the flood in Katrina's wake. The company has finally resumed sausage-making at a new site in Metairie, in suburban Jefferson Parish, and her husband was able to snare a small quantity on a recent trip home. I guess they are rationing this precious commodity carefully until they can be assured of a steady supply. 'Twas a pity, for all the flavors rang true. The shrimp in the shrimp po' boy had just a bit of a bite, and the red beans and rice were hearty and well-seasoned. The jambalaya had less of a tomatoey flavor than I had been used to in my own, which was good; it would have benefited from more of that sausage. The French fries were "Cajun fries," lightly sprinkled with Cajun seasoning, an unexpected treat. They were also pretty good as fries go, but were Holly to try these, he would still have to continue his quest for the perfect Philly fry. Of course, it wouldn't be a New Orleans-style eatery without Louisiana hot sauce, and there were bottles of several different brands at the tables and counter. Our table had two: However, one of them came from a place much further away than Louisiana. Their main dishes offer a lot for a little: most menu items are under $10, and the $7.50 daily specials come with two sides (except on Monday and Wednesday). The owner is very friendly and the rest of the crew pleasant, even if they kept telling us they were out of what we asked for. If they can get the supply chain working better and work out a few kinks in the service, the Wades could have a little gem of a hole-in-the-wall restaurant on their hands, something maybe even worth trekking down Route 291 and dodging the truck traffic to visit. Unfortunately, this being Chester, it's not a place you can visit for dinner, though. De' Essence of New Orleans 1000 West Second Street (at Lloyd) Chester, PA 19013 610-874-1505 Noon to 7 p.m. Monday through Friday Nearest SEPTA service: Bus Route 113 from 69th Street Terminal, Darby Transportation Center or Chester Transportation Center to Third and Lloyd streets. The restaurant is one block towards the river, at Second.