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MarketStEl

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  1. Free-associating to one of the more-memorable-for-its-mediocrity Q experiences I have had around here, and for what it showed me about the need for Philadelphians to learn more about what makes great Q -- or even passable Q, in this case. A friend of mine who I hadn't seen in a few months (he lives in Delaware and studies at Villanova Law) contacted me about getting together one day this past summer. I suggested going up to catch some acts at the West Oak Lane Jazz and Arts Festival, and he agreed. Hunger pangs struck soon after we arrived at the main stage in the 7100 block of Ogontz Avenue. As luck would have it, there was a BBQ place in the strip mall on the east side of the block with a line stretching outside it and a bunch of "Best of" awards from publications in the area hanging on its walls. We both figured, This should be good. And we got in line. Both of us ordered ribs -- a whole slab for him, half a slab for me. As my friend proceeded to make quick work of the ribs, he said, "These are the best ribs I've ever had." "I've had much, much better," said I. "For starters, these were parboiled." And I pointed out the completely gray color of the interior of the ribs. I will give them this: they weren't tough. Just a little chewy (and a little fatty), that's all. The sauce was all right too. But I knew that if real Q fiends had either voted in those newspaper polls or served as judges for their awards, there wouldn't have been a single "Best of" anything hanging from the walls of this place.
  2. Upon a rereading of your initial challenge, Chris, I guess we who derive joy from the act of shopping itself do need to address the subject of ambience. I listen to a "smooth jazz" radio station on part of my commute (the real jazz station in town broadcasts classical music during the day, and the R&B station I have on at Market East fades into oblivion between Melrose Park and Jenkintown), so I feel your pain over being bombarded by endless Kenny G. And, of course, the supermarket is engineered to get you to buy stuff you neither need nor really want, from the "prettier-than-tasty" produce (thanks for that phrase, JasonTrue) that greets you the moment you walk through the doors to the ad decals on the floors of the aisles to the promos that interrupt Kenny G's squawks to the regular-priced stuff placed at the end of the aisle to make you think it's on sale to the choice of merchandise displayed at eye level to those "Checkout TV" monitors to...the list goes on and on. (Those monitors kinda make you miss the Weekly World News, don't they?) In that environment, programmed to break down your defenses and make you suspend your disbelief, I guess it must be a hardy soul who still finds joy in all that. I think I manage by tuning out most of it.
  3. BTW, moreace, Buttermilk Blue, which I mentioned upthread, is also on the mild side. I'd recommend it as a gateway blue cheese.
  4. Funny -- the Q joint everyone in Kansas City raves about these days is Oklahoma Joe's. The guy it's named for is from there, but he no longer has anything to do with the restaurant. According to the Web site, he sold his smoker company and closed the original Stillwater location, and his Kansas City partner -- a legend on the competitive barbecue circuit -- bought out his share of the second location on the Kansas City, Kansas, side of the Wyandotte-Johnson county line. Kurt Vonnegut fans will appreciate the owner's team name. The team racked up a slew of Kansas City Barbecue Society* awards before its chief chef decided to put down roots and go commercial. *The KCBS is the organization that officially sanctions barbecue competitions and trains judges for them.
  5. You want my fave BBQ spot? Here ya go. You might want to rest up first -- you're going to have to drive for a good long while. Oh, you mean fave local BBQ spot? 1. Wherever I'm smoking ribs. 2. Everything else rates as Will Do. I do recall a place near Belmont/44th and Lancaster that had decent ribs but forget its name. I had the Quadruple Bypass at Sweet Lucy's and found it very good, almost Kansas City quality -- but the beans weren't all that hot. I haven't eaten in at Famous Dave's, but I have had some of their 'cue, and it is indeed not bad, no mean feat for a chain. Their spicy sauce I especially like.
  6. I'm going to guess that it wasn't just the fat and salt in the butter, but the interplay between those ingredients and the beef. Potatoes are pretty bland, so adding something fairly strong like blue cheese will cause the cheese to dominate what you're eating. Beef, OTOH, is rich all by itself, and the chese will complement rather than overwhelm it. And, of course, cheeses aren't interchangeable here. Blue cheese on top of pasta and tomato sauce is just wrong, but unami-rich Parmesan and its close cousin Pecorino Romano work. Beef works with a fairly wide range of cheeses, especially in its ground patty form, but on steak, blue cheese is the traditional choice. The bite of blue, like the tang of Cheddar, also works well against salad greens, which usually vary from mild to bitter in flavor.
  7. Dean and Dewha? Yes, there's a Whole Foods near me, and I've even bought stuff there from time to time, but it's not part of my regular routine. I will grant that the Reading Terminal Market spoils one, but trust me when I say I've seen some 9th Street vendors sell produce that might make you long for what Shaw's offers. What 9th Street offers is the thrill of the hunt -- the challenge of finding the true bargain among the past-the-sell-by-date stuff you find at many street vendors. (The meat and fish purveyors generally offer more consistent quality.) Even a stroll through the aisles of the Ak-a-me and Super Fresh I find enjoyable, including the occasional interactions with random customers and the more predictable ones with store personnel. And anyone can play the "It's me vs. the supermarket: Who will walk away with more of my money?" game, even at the most boring of supermarkets. I find I get a kick out of that too.
  8. Shows you how much more the place has changed since I last lived there! I remember East Boston as all working-class Italian. Edited to add: Or is it further up the line in Orient Heights?
  9. Awwww, now you've tripped the nostalgia switch! It's nice to see that the variety of Asian food available in the Greater Boston region (which I define as anywhere you can get to on the MBTA, so Lowell's definitely included -- and, I think, so's Worcester now) has expanded greatly since I left there for Philadelphia in 1983, and when I was last there in 2005, I even ate at an Ethiopian restaurant in the South End, something I could do in Philadelphia but not Boston when I moved south. Even with the influx of South and Southeast Asians, though, I'd still say that New England as a whole, though Greater Boston less than before, is less ethnically diverse than either the rest of the Northeast or California, and that is reflected in its dining scene. I'm aware of the Portuguese immigrant population around Narragansett Bay (and thus encompassing New Bedford/Fall River), but beyond that, there's not much of an Iberian or Hispanic presence in the region -- or at least not one I can discern from the restaurants. Here I can find Colombian, Brazilian, Peruvian and Venezuelan restaurants, for instance; I'm not aware of instances of any of these South American cuisines in the Boston area. (I'm sure there must be some Caribbean places up that way by now.) However, I must give props to Redbone's -- or whatever the name of that place is in Davis Square, which went all upscale on me between the time I left and the time I returned for my 25th reunion -- for attempting to spread the Gospel of Barbecue to those without the Word. To borrow some obscure U.S. Senator from Nebraska's remarks about Shanghai in the 1950s, "We will lift this place up, up, ever upward, until one day it is just like Kansas City." Haa! That's okay, we car people curse the MTA's crappy commuter lines. For all you out of towners, after you've had the pleasure of blue-knuckling your car into the city with some of the most aggressive drivers on earth, you get to drive around aimlessly down labyrinthine, narrow streets looking for the elusive parking space. When you finally give up and admit defeat, some garage will happily take your $20 for the pleasure of bopping into a market. I don't think I've ever paid more for parking a car than I have in Boston. ← You are the first person I've run across in quite some time who refers to Greater Boston's mass transit agency with (1) more than one letter (2) the initials used to refer to it from 1947 to 1964. You must be a longtime New Englander -- I didn't learn about the "T's" former identity until I read some local transit history and heard that campaign song made famous by the Kingston Trio. I'm guessing that the spotty nature of the MBTA's commuter train service is the main reason you drive into the city. SEPTA Regional Rail does much better in this department, though you still need to be back at the in-town station by midnight to make it back to the boonies. But there's hourly service at minimum at all times on all but one of the 13 Regional Rail branches; I don't think the same applies for MBTA Commuter Rail. Did Charlie get his CharlieCard™ yet? Or is he still trapped on the Green Line? Edited to add: I used to have a rule of thumb for driving around Boston (yes, I did do some): If you get lost, simply continue in the general direction you are headed. You will eventually arrive at one of two places -- Downtown Boston or Route 128. From either of these you should be able to reorient yourself. In truth, that last part wasn't even guaranteed.
  10. Just a question about your eG posting handle: I'd hardly consider what you do a 9-to-5 job unless you block off that time for your paid pursuit. (By this I most certainly don't mean it's not a full-time job: as I've learned from my own fitful freelancing efforts, freelance writing full time can easily eat up way more than 40 hours a week.) Why did you choose this as your handle? (If you've read my foodblogs, my own posting handle should be painfully obvious.) Question for any trivia buffs playing along: Is this the first time in eG Foodblog history that two professional writers have blogged in succession?
  11. Check your PMs, Gordon. You really should make room for a roast pork Italian from DiNic's. If you'd rather not, bring a sturdy plastic bag with you and order one to go for later consumption.
  12. General tip for Lindsay Ann and everyone else who edits only after they submit -- myself among that group: I am slowly training myself to hit the "Preview Post" button first before hitting "Submit". That allows you to see what you've entered as it will look on the board and make changes in the editing window at the same time (it appears below the preview). I've managed to catch many a tag error that way.
  13. Loose end, not directly food-related, I forgot to tie up: I love logic games but don't know this one. Point me in the right direction? ← If you've taken one of those online IQ tests, or remember the exquisite ordeal that is the SAT, you've seen logical problems of this type. The actual question relies on your knowledge of set theory and is a simple logical true-false statement. My parody version illustrates the logical concept known as the non sequitur.
  14. I think you are right. For some, food is merely a necessary part of sustenance - these people are usually thin and don't read foodblogs. Like most folks I have had ups and downs in the weight department. In 2004 when I was 37 my goal before turning 40 was to run a marathon (and to have a baby - I managed two of each) and when I crossed the finish line after four and a half hours of unremarkable running, my BMI (Body Mass Index) was 31. At 6'-1" and 230 lbs, a BMI of over 30 means obese. I neither looked nor felt obese, I felt fantastic for achieving such a goal. Here I am, and here. ← Since this thing is still open, and since I'm in a lull in my workday, I thought I'd comment on your appearance. Regardless what your BMI says, you don't look obese at all -- or terribly overweight, for that matter. Your weight hangs from your frame well. Which once again points to the limits of any single measurement: There will always be individuals whose own bodies defy what the statistics say they ought to be -- as with my cholesterol count. I think that a good physician will realize this and not force a patient into a regimen he or she does not need simply because the numbers say so. WebMD, RealAge, and the various nutrition, fitness and health sites and magazines are all full of good advice, and it's all relevant and sound. But that doesn't mean that it applies in 100% of all cases. Ultimately, the best advice is that which recognizes your own unique characteristics and circumstances. That includes any advice the three of us have offered.
  15. Never mind your garden; I want to see SNOW! As much of it as you can provide! All snow, all the time! All we got down this way was rain. Again. If this keeps up, I may have to move back to New England. In the meantime, welcome to the community of eG Foodbloggers! I look forward to your sharing the bounty of your pantry. And to more snow!
  16. A great barbecue sauce covers a multitude of sins.* Yes, they will ship to you, Randi. And even though you are a cook-from-scratch gal, this is a bottled sauce worth buying. However, since you are a cook-from-scratch gal, and since it would probably cost less, you might want to try the home version. *Edited to add: This page offers yet more evidence of the baleful influence Rich Davis has had on Kansas City sauce. It's gotten to the point where even Kansas City's best barbecue sauce has felt compelled to add a "Sweet & Mild" variety to its lineup.
  17. We were coming back from winter break -- and it was 1977, freshman year, not 1978 as I had posted. I had done a marathon drive out with three drivers (one from St. Louis), but coming back, I had only two (one from St. Louis). The runup to the wreck even involves food: I had said in response to a question from my co-pilot somewhere east of Dayton, "Yeah, I'm getting hungry too. Keep your eyes peeled for a restaurant." Then, somewhere around Columbus, "I'm going to sleep. Don't wake me." I was awakened when the co-pilot drove into a truck stop outside Akron. While the food was forgettable, the tune that was playing on the jukebox -- I think the third person in my car played it for laughs -- sticks with me to this day: "Drop-kick me, Jesus, through the goal post of heaven..." I found it impossible to get back to sleep as we crossed the rest of Ohio. Then my co-pilot handed me the wheel just past Youngstown. I remember the first six or so exits off I-80 in Pennsylvania, and even pulling off for coffee at a truck stop at one of them. But the coffee didn't work. The rest of Pennsylvania is a blur, except for the sight of my car headed for the guardrail at about 60 mph as I awoke somewhere around sunrise somewhere near Milton. The car caromed off the guardrail, across both eastbound lanes, and into the median, which was fortunately wide at this point, but rocky. (Many Pennsylvania freeways predate the Interstate era and have no medians to speak of.) We were all belted, fortunately. The front seat passenger had the worst injury: a broken nose and several lacerations. All of us had fragments of glass from the windshield in our clothes; the co-pilot in the rear had some minor cuts. All of us walked out of the car, I unhurt. Maybe it was Providence at work. We ended up flying back to Harvard from Wilkes-Barre/Scranton. FWIW, I neither gained nor lost weight this week. Given what I ate and the relative lack of exercise, I guess you could call this a small victory. And glad to hear that Mr. E shares my opinion of Tillamook. Cabot is still a damn fine cheese.
  18. Actually, I've noticed the second, more insidious kind of price hike on my most recent shopping trips: The one where the price stays the same but the quantity shrinks. About two years ago, the half-gallon containers of ice cream lost four fluid ounces. My most recent purchase of Turkey Hill Philadelphia Style ("all natural," like Breyers and unlike their regular premium ice cream) revealed that the container has shrunk yet again, to 1.5 quarts. Then, this past Saturday, I picked up a quart jar of mayonnaise and noticed that it contained only 30 fluid ounces. Candy bars are notorious for weight fluctuations of this type as the price of cocoa goes up or down. Now it looks like other products are following suit.
  19. I know I've mentioned to some of you at some time in the past that my Sunday bruch routine is a form of channeling my mother, who would fairly often put out a large spread and invite guests. This is usually the one meal of the week where I toss the rules and discipline out the window, but as you all saw, I already did this Friday night. So I'll just have to be extra good this week. I begin by thawing a package of bacon and boiling potatoes. After the potatoes cool -- usually right around the time Meet The Press airs locally (11:30 am) -- I get to work on everything else: slicing sausage patties, shredding the potatoes, chopping the onions and peppers, and grating some cheese. Today's cheeses are Tillamook Special Reserve Extra Sharp Cheddar and Monterey Jack. I also added mushrooms to the omelet fillings this time around. The bacon goes into a 400F oven and the potatoes and sausage into skillets. racheld, I know you asked for a show of hands. This picture is just for you: Gary likes his eggs sunny side up. (Oops! One of the yolks broke.) Everyone else who eats gets an omelet. So I beat the eggs with a little chipotle sauce: and cook the omelet. I've never managed to master flipping anything by flicking a saute pan, and I'm not about to practice with partially set eggs. Instead, I just turn them with a spatula. Here's the end result: Now there is one compensating factor that offsets this calorific feast: It's such an ample meal that I usually don't eat a regular dinner on Sunday. Today was no different. I snacked on popcorn in the evening. This time, I didn't pour melted butter all over the popcorn, as I usually do. I had bought this buttery-flavor canola oil some months back and decided I'd see if it really does taste buttery all by itself. I use one of those popcorn poppers with the crank that you turn on the lid -- they produce great popcorn, and all the kernels pop. (I'd have gotten a picture of my hands turning the crank if I weren't taking these photos myself.) The popcorn in the bowl on the right I sprinkled with popcorn salt. The bowl on the left I didn't, on the off chance that roommate might want to eat some. (He usually fixes microwave popcorn if he's at home by himself and wants to snack on something besides an apple.) And with this, I am now caught up with my diet, such as it is, for this week. I've actually gotten some good tips from several of you, and I've seen some dishes from both Randi and Ellen that I plan on trying. (Watch your PMs for recipe requests.) I've enjoyed taking you around my life once again, and hope you enjoyed the trip too. Something tells me that this week, I've failed to even return to the Two Hundred Pound Plateau, let alone climb down from it, but I'm not going to lose too much sleep over that. (I'll lose more sleep posting to discussion boards.) But I will leave as a parting shot a preview of breakfast tomorrow. One idea I got off this blog is that maybe, just maybe, I should consume less juice and more fruit. So instead of buying orange or grapefruit juice at the store on Saturday, I bought grapefruit. I figure this would also add fiber to my diet -- not that I'm seriously lacking in it; one of my favorite breads is the "Flax and Fiber" bread from Arnold that's on my brunch plate above. It would also add variety, however. Even though I'm hanging up my pen, as it were, with this post, if you have any last-minute comments or questions, please feel free to share them. I will try to answer on this blog if it's open and by PM if it's not. Cheers, queers! And you all take care too, my straight friends.
  20. I haven't gotten around yet to addressing the subject of alcohol and weight management, as I said I would. Here goes: You've probably seen that Far Side cartoon with the caption "Impolite though they were, the other bears couldn't help staring at Larry's enormous deer gut." Well, it may be venison for bears, but for people, nothing gives you a paunch quite like beer. But why is this? A therapist I was seeing once explained to me that the body processes alcohol as though it were fat rather than carbohydrate. If this is so, then that might explain why heavy drinkers get those big bellies. OTOH, it may be the alcohol itself, which is a sugar, and thus full of carbohydrates. But if it were just that, people who down lots of mixed drinks should have them too, and I can't say I've noticed any big bellies among the hard-drinking regulars at Pure. This leads me to conclude that it must be the fermentation process in beer that contributes to the phenomena. Perhaps we could use carbonated soft drinks as a test case?
  21. Okay. I'm about to upload today to ImageGullet, but before I do, a few replies and an extended comment. 1) I do tend to park myself in front of the cheese whenever I'm at an affair where it is served. And trust me on this, my reputation precedes me -- I'll even scarf down the grade-C cheese cubes Pure sets out on "Party Girl" night! (This is their monthly lesbian bash, held on the first Saturday; the straight kids also get one night a month, the second Friday. The rest of the month, it's pretty much all gay guys, all the time.) I'm guessing that the exercise I did do at Widener got to the point where it boosted my metabolism a little bit -- my routine consisted of 20 minutes of cardio on the elliptical cross-trainer and about 15 minutes of weights on the exercise stations, always including an ab exercise. However, it's been two-and-a-half months now since I got in one of these, which means my exercise these days has been reduced to the walks every day between my apartment and Market East and between Yardley and my office, plus the walking I do during my weekly grocery trip -- the Acme is a 20-minute walk from my home at my pace. I'm aware it's not enough, and I've read up on some exercises one can do at one's desk. Maybe I should try them. When the weather improves, walks on the Delaware Canal towpath will probably become a lunchtime staple. 2) I've actually eaten in Cleveland. Once. On the way from Kansas City to Cambridge freshman year, with a Harvard-bound Southwest High grad for a traveling companion. I don't know how we managed this, but we found ourselves on East 9th Street downtown in front of a Forum Cafeteria (there was one of those in downtown Kansas City too) and went in for lunch. Given that Cleveland has a bunch of ethnic groups, I figure there must be better and more interesting fare there. I grew up in a part of the country where a driver's license is a rite of passage, and I still have a valid one. My mother did well enough to buy me a car -- a new one -- for my 16th birthday. I have not owned a car since I wrecked that one in a 1978 accident on I-80 in this state that I and my fellow occupants were lucky to survive, or so the State Police officer who arrived moments after my car finished its 2 1/2 somersault into the median of I-80 said. [specifically, he said, "It's a good thing you were all asleep. Your bodies rolled with the car instead of tensing up."] As I have also lived ever since then in areas where a car is not necessary, I've also been fortunate to have at least light exercise built into my everyday routine. And except for Hamburger Helper, which my partner really likes (and so do I, truth be told), my cooking utilizes very few processed or convenience foods. That, BTW, was the message I meant to convey with the opening photo. (Besides, both partner and roommate must watch their sodium intake, and most processed and convenience foods are loaded with sodium.) I'm sure that most of you reading this have read articles, or heard people talking, about whether Americans' increasing reliance on processed foods, or the widespread use of things like high fructose corn syrup, have brought about the current obesity epidemic. Then there are the articles that have circulated among urban planners that wonder, "Do the Suburbs Make You Fat?" (This would have to do with having few opportunities to walk or work other exercise into the residents' ordinary routines.) My take on it is that neither of these factors is THE cause of the epidemic, but both -- and more -- have all contributed. And once again, we must take conscious steps to counter those influences.
  22. Well, since we're going there: I don't do sweet, fruity stuff on cheese, either. Fruit -- actual fruit -- consumed by itself along with the cheese is OK, though, especially grapes. One of my favorite comfort snacks is peanut butter spread on Stoned Wheat Thins and topped with a slice of extra sharp Cheddar. Apples and Cheddar are also a popular combo, and I won't turn that pairing down if offered, but I don't eat them together myself that often; see above. Aged Gouda needs no accompaniment, either savory or sweet. It's almost like eating toffee as it is. Soft-ripened cheeses are good on French bread or Table Water crackers. Cheddar stands up to just about anything you serve it on, and the best Cheddars are good all by themselves too. If you're a fan of grilled cheese sandwiches, even though process American cheese was invented for them, the best varieties are Cheddar (I don't mind the separation) and Swiss (especially Emmentaler). Port-Salut, a semisoft cheese, makes an interesting grilled cheese sandwich too. Try adding a moderately strong blue to your macaroni and cheese sometime. You'll be pleased and surprised by the taste. Muenster cheese's best partners are liverwurst and onion. Most cheese-with-stuff-in-it IMO can be eaten straight, but there are exceptions: Cotswold should be served with crackers, preferably light or bland ones; Pepper Jack is an ingredient in cooking primarily; and Wensleydale with fruit in it should not be eaten, period. Instead, serve Wensleydale and add some fruit to the platter.
  23. Thank you for the kind words and praise. I do recall another epic tag-team foodblog: "Cold Turkey Three Ways," which remains IMO the pacesetter for a foodblog that deals with a serious health issue in an interesting manner. That blog, in fact, was the inspiration for suggesting this one -- and that one ran two weeks. I'm sure all three of us could come up with enough interesting material to fill another week of blogging, but it is a time-consuming task -- in no small part due to the requirement to use ImageGullet. I wouldn't presume to speak for my co-bloggers, but if they're up to it and the Foodblog Czarina agrees, then so am I. Edited to add: But since I see that another blog IS starting tomorrow, we don't need to worry. There are still a few loose ends I'd like to tie up, and I do need to put today up on the blog; I'll do those later tonight--I am entertaining a friend shortly and have a press release to write.
  24. Regular Jif, or Simply Jif? It wasn't until I tried the latter that I realized just how much sugar the manufacturer (formerly Procter & Gamble, now J.M. Smucker Co.) adds to Jif. Peter Pan, the first mass-marketed brand of peanut butter, is even sweeter; Skippy used to be not as sweet until the folks at Bestfoods (now Unilever) noticed that Jif outsold Skippy. Simply Jif has about half the sugar of and less sodium than regular Jif. Its taste is a lot closer to that of all-natural peanut butters. Given your dietary needs, if you're not already buying it, you might want to try it.
  25. So: the time between the beginning of my post on Friday (I had six mixed drinks that evening -- two at Bump at happy hour and four at Pure between 9 and midnight -- and noshed on some Rustico cheese and crackers after that) and my wrapping that post up this morning, I: --had a half-hour conference call --went to get soft pretzels for the roomie --went grocery shopping...I realized once I got to the Acme that I hadn't brought my camera along; as a result, I've now done three foodblogs without once showing you the inside of a store in Philadelphia's dominant supermarket chain. I don't know whether I will have the chance to correct this error in this blog --met a man a friend of mine wanted to fix me up with for coffee...he was a few years older than me, had worked in a warehouse, was on disability, and didn't get out that much; I gave him a walking tour of the Gayborhood, which he appreciated -- even though he lives in Mount Airy, an integrated middle-class neighborhood in Northwest Philly about 20 minutes from Center City by train, he had never been to any of the clubs -- but I wouldn't say we clicked -- came back home and doctored up some spaghetti and meatballs partner's BF had brought with him with this In the left-hand skillet: Chopped green bell pepper, chopped mushrooms, chopped onion, chopped garlic. In the right: a pound of ground beef. These were combined and mixed with some homemade tomato cream sauce. There's enough left over for me to take some to work for lunch this week. --went and made myself pretty, walked up to Market Street, caught the El at 13th... Note the ad for V8 juice at the far right. I used to do this when I ate a hamburger all the time; I wonder how many others still do? Obviously, enough for a clever ad agency to use this to promote better nutrition through vegetable juice. I still like to keep my burger and my salad separate, but now I eat the veggies too. I also did this with that chicken sandwich at Mil-Lee's. I don't know why I bothered to eat the underripe tomato, though. ...and went out to the First District Plaza (headquarters of the First Episcopal District of the African Methodist Episcopal Church) in University City to attend this. Michael Hinson just stepped down as Assistant Managing Director and Liaison to the Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgendered Community for now-former Mayor John F. Street. Hinson did an outstanding job raising his boss' sensitivity to gay and lesbian issues, which he was in a position to do because he supported Street when most of the gay community, myself included, backed his opponents. (Thus proving once again that you should never put all your eggs in one basket and never underestimate anyone's ability to learn and grow.) Me with Michael Hinson at the tribute. As you can see, I was very much underdressed. The organizers (including a choreographer friend of mine who urged me to come) put together a grand tribute, including a dance performance by that choreographer's company, a film tribute, and a grand repast catered by the fellow who runs the classiest soul food restaurant in the city. KeVen's catering business is housed in the First District Plaza, and he runs a restaurant on the top floor. Needless to say, he is the preferred caterer for anyone wanting to hold an event in the ballroom on the same floor. There were roasted veggies, cheeses: I was able to identify herb-crusted, spicy cream cheese balls, Pepper Jack, Cheddar, prosciutto and Provolone rollups, and Swiss cheese. I didn't eat any of the baked Brie. I have no idea what the slightly sweet, slightly peppery orange semi-soft cheese was; anybody who can identify it on sight is welcome to fill me in. chips, cocktail bread and dips: two kinds of pasta salad (I only photographed one): a fruit arrangement: and fish -- bluefish and salmon. And those were just the hors d'oeuvres! The dinner itself was a complete upscale soul food feast: Ham, turkey (which I usually don't associate with soul food), fried chicken, tilapia, cabbage, collard greens, mac and cheese, and sweet potatoes. And a salad with raspberry vinaigrette. In addition to helping myself to a little bit of just about everything on the hors d'oeuvre buffet, I threw caution to the winds in the dinner line too. The saving grace, if you want to call it that, is that it meant I had no room at all for the cake at the end of the evening. Edited to fix incorrect picture.
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