MarketStEl

I'm not going to digress here on whether this "disappearing middle" phenomenon--which manifests itself in many different arenas besides consumer goods--might or might not be good for American society in the long run, as that is both off-topic and would produce an interminably long and dense discussion. But given that you appear to have come up with a winning high-end sandwich shop model--I'm not surprised that the mix-and-match concept has proven to work for Starwich, as your target customers are the kind that crave variety and the new and different--I do wonder why Philadelphia seems to have dropped off your short list of early-stage expansion markets, since it had been among them (at least that was my interpretation of the information on your Web site). I am very much aware of this city's rich sandwich tradition, which is tightly bound up with its heritage as a blue-collar industrial center, and admit that both those factors and the popularity of the sandwiches in question might make entry into this market more difficult than one might suspect at first. Yet this same city also supports a quite vibrant upscale dining scene, which suggests that the audience for your product is here and maybe even receptive to it. After all, Cosí hasn't gone broke here selling decent sandwiches with good quality ingredients on unusual bread for a somewhat inflated price; by comparison, given what you offer on the mix-and-match list, $8.50 is not expensive at all. I should perhaps confess to the same sort of puzzlement the Kansas Citians who have posted here have, for similar reasons: besides being a native of that city, I have noted that both my original and adopted hometowns share world-class municipal inferiority complexes which have proven hard to shake off as both have gotten more interesting--or more comfortable with their own essences--over the years. Nonetheless, it still rankles me just a little bit that the second-largest market on the East Coast is a third-stage expansion target.

Oh, yeah--that was priceless! Of course, that was Pre-Prison Martha. Post-Prison Martha, I understand, is a different creature in many respects, though her essence remains unchanged. For storing my sauce, I hang on to a Gates bottle that I got when a Drexel math professor friend of mine (and fellow native) and I split a case about two years ago. Aha, so you're a preppy! ← As is this gorgeous hunk, Class of '77 and childhood neighbor (I lived on the 4100 block of Bellefontaine, he on the same block of Benton Boulevard). His memories of Pem-Day are as bitter as mine are pleasant (although I'm not looking forward to encountering the redneck who runs Russell Stover Candies at the reunion). I am looking forward to having the chance to reminisce a bit with him, for better or worse, when he comes to Philly on 3/1 for a performance at Chris' Jazz Cafe a few blocks away from me.

I should probably pay her a visit again sometime soon. After I get my business cards. She was a wonderful spirit-lifter when I stopped by on a Tuesday afternoon about a month and a half after losing my job at Penn. I suspect she might be interested in hearing what's happened since. Besides, I should pick up one of those jazz CDs her waiter's band recorded.

I can see why they would be popular for lemonade--since they're not as tart, you wouldn't need to add so much sugar to your lemonade. They might make an interesting to certain vinegars (rice especially) in a vinaigrette. Now that you mention it, they did have a rather floral scent about them. I occasionally grind juiced lemons in the garbage disposal as a quick room freshener, and I suspect that these would work even better.

For some strange reason, there seems to be a glut of chicken breasts around these parts lately. Supermarket chains are routinely running specials on boneless, skinless chicken breast, offering prices as low as $1.49 a pound in one instance (though that was only good on the first package purchased on a visit) and $1.69/lb quite often. This is good. We like cheap chicken breast (and will refrain for the moment from the perennial discussion about whether what you buy in the supermarket actually Tastes Like Chicken). But what's even more astonishing than chicken breast regularly selling for less than ground beef are the size of these hen hooters. Three-pound packages of chicken breast of late now contain two--count 'em, two--whole breasts. That makes each breast about a pound and a half. I've even seen four-pound packs containing only two breasts. Imagine: A single breast quarter providing one pound of chicken flesh! My first thought upon encountering these routinely was for the chickens themselves. Can these poor birds even stand up, let alone roam across the pens or feeding yard (as if that were possible )? The next was: These are gonna cause all kinds of problems with the thousands of chicken breast recipes that call for the use of intact breast quarters. Will shoppers simply purchase the specified quantity of supersize breast quarters (thus quite possibly spending more on the chicken than they did when it was $3.49/lb or suchlike) and dutifully go to work on them, not realizing that these mutant mammaries (oops, sorry--birds don't give milk) will in all likelihood throw all the other ingredients out of proportion, along with their waistlines somewhere down the road? Or will they, as I did the other night when I made mushroom-Cheddar chicken (photos to be posted to the Dinner! thread Real Soon Now), cut the breasts in half horizontally, thus producing a serving size closer to the one that was common in the pre-Frankenbreast era but possibly losing a little in the aesthetic department? And where do these monster breasts come from, and how did they become so ubiquitous so suddenly?

But can Pavarotti dance?

Actually, I have a "what do you do with these?" question from a recent RTM trip (but not my most recent one). Iovine's had Meyer lemons on sale a week or so ago at 3/$1. I've read about these critters before but had never seen one in the flesh. So naturally, I bought three. I used half of one to squeeze over some chicken breasts after sprinkling them with tarragon and marjoram. I noticed that these lemons have thinner skins and smell a good bit sweeter than regular lemons. The breasts turned out pretty tasty. I wasn't as impressed with the cod filet over which I sprinkled Old Bay and squeezed the other half lemon. Personally, I think it was too much Old Bay, and I'd want to try again with some less aggressive seasoning. But I imagine that Meyer lemons are not simply used in place of regular lemons. So: What do you do with them?

I can count on something in the Heartland forum to take me back just about every time I visit. They don't make 'em the way they do at Winstead's, not here in Philly or anywhere else on the East Coast, the chains excluded. This is the land of the fat hamburger (not to be confused with Fatburger or Fattburger). And I remember Minsky's Pizza Joint when it was new. Is it still at 51st and Main? Not to mention the "Bryant's or Gates?" theological arguments in the Star newsroom (which I already know is not the same big wide open space it was when I was a copy boy and intern there). I see that the pantheon has expanded greatly since those days. I still swear by Gates' sauce, though, and ever since Ollie surrendered the recipe to Martha Stewart, I make my own. I also remember when there was still a Woolworth's where Saks Fifth Avenue now sits on the Plaza. Wooloworth's lunch counters ruled in the "everyday restaurant" category. In any event, I'm taking notes. I hope to be back in town this spring for my 30th high school reunion (Pembroke-Country Day, Class of '76), and I'll need to know some good places to eat.

Agreed on the cross-contamination, but as for that part about chains having their act together before the doors open: Did you ever visit Xando back when it opened at Penn? That was, I think, their third or fourth location in Philadelphia. And I recall visiting one of those other locations and experiencing service as relaxed as the atmosphere there as well. Now, that may have been Xando standard practice, but if you read that Penn Current article I've linked here, the brass didn't regard it as such. Service at Così is much more attentive now than it was at predecessor Xando then, so someone got the message. Maybe the management after the sandwich shop chain acquired the coffeehouse operator. But if this is any guide, I wouldn't assume that every chain perfects its practices pre-opening.

That's because the only people who have been able to figure out exactly what is a Canadian are the Canadians, and if they know, they aren't telling. We Americans vacillate between two oversimplifications, both of which conveniently leave out Québec: Canadians are Americans who spell words with too many vowels or vowels in the wrong places, have an unnatural fondness for donuts and end all their sentences with "eh?", or Canadians are weak-kneed peaceniks who want to turn North America into a clone of decadent Europe (I think that's the current line being pushed on Fox News Channel, but I can't swear by this). The really funny part of this is that actual travel in Canada seems to do little to dispel Americans of these oversimplifications. Moving on to Carrot Top's observation about reading: Postmodern literary theorists are fond of pointing out that every work of literature has two authors, the writer and the reader. This may be one of the few postmodernist lit-theory assertions that is undisputable. Might we also say that every meal has two creators, the cook (chef) and the diner?

LaBan has said that the system is relative. The attributes that make the Mayfair Diner (or whatever the name of that diner he gave four bells was) a four-bell establishment are those that place it head and shoulders above other diners and diner-like restaurants, which is not the same thing as saying that the Mayfair Diner is the equivalent of Le Bec-Fin--obviously, it isn't. No one I know goes out to dine looking for a Le Bec-Fin experience every time. Besides, most of us couldn't afford that. But we may go out looking for a finer diner or a superior sandwich shop, and we can recognize excellence within those categories when we run across it. I don't think it's too difficult for the average reader to pull out the appropriate mental yardstick for judging a LaBan bell rating under those circumstances.

In Pennsylvania Dutch country, yes, you can get really good locally grown/produced food at reasonable cost, but even there, the "artisanal" stuff fits the model you describe above. You can find both ends of the spectrum at the Reading Terminal Market on the weekends, when the regular Amish merchants are open and the Green Valley Dairy proprietor (a French emigré, BTW) is also selling his absolutely fabulous and breathtakingly pricey Cheddar. I don't know whether he sells his cheese at Lancaster's Central Market. If he does, I realize it's a bit of a trek from northern West Virginia, but it might be worth it to check it out.

I'm now settled in at my new job--my telephone was installed today and I now have everything I need in my office except the office chair that was ordered for me. But I'm catching up on my sidelines, including an article that I had hoped to finish before I started (fat chance), so I lunched at my desk today: (The image on my computer monitor is a photo I took of the building I work in at Widener University. It's the oldest building on the campus, built to house the military college that became Widener.) As for the meal itself? Leftover chili from the batch I made on Monday but didn't post to the Chili Cook-Off and tossed salad. In the bottle is a red wine vinaigrette with mustard powder, dill, basil, onion powder and Sriracha sauce. I topped the chili with shredded cheese (shredded before I left for work and put in a baggie, natch) and crushed crackers. I've been brown-bagging all week. Tomorrow is Friday. I intend to give myself the day off in the kitchen.

I know that was certainly the case when I walked up to the window at Cheryl's Southern Style last Friday. This little place is clearly an expression of the owner's personality and so is the food. And while I agree with the rest of what you said, as Cheryl's is mainly a takeout, it will rise or fall almost entirely on the quality of its food. Which happens to be quite good.

Wish I had started this job earlier! This was right around the corner from me. Oh, well...I've RSVPed for the Newark event but haven't gotten a confirmation from the host. I'd need a ride to that one.

If I remember right, the ratings of chain restaurants are based not on judges' evaluations as the chocolates ratings were, but on responses to the Annual Questionnaire sent out to all Consumers Union members (subscribers to the magazine are automatically members of CU). So this is more like Zagat minus the groupquotes. And it wouldn't tell you at all what Consumer Reports or the staff of Consumers Union think about food--only what the subscriber-members did. Or rather, those subscriber-members who bothered to return the Annual Questionnaire.

I understand your point and basically agree, and this is a common knock against Consumer Reports' ratings. Keep in mind, though, that the reader Consumers Union seeks to "test, inform and protect" with recommendations and advice is not an aficionado, technical expert or conoisseur, but rather the average shopper. In the case of chocolate candies, I would suggest that the typical American consumer expects them to be sweet, or slightly bitter if he or she knows about dark chocolate, but would indeed recoil at a chocolate that tasted "sour" or "astringent," or extremely bitter for that matter.

Neither would the majority of areas that are designated cities, according to people who keep the demographics. I guess there is a difference between the generic term city, and the term city as in "THE City" as in the big one in New York. Which is actually a collection of boroughs. And islands. ← Four of New York's five boroughs are on islands. One--The Bronx--is on the mainland. Then there was that recent New York Times article that asserted, in that stunningly confident but completely uninformed way only the Times can, that people down here increasingly refer to the City of Brotherly Love as "the sixth borough." Pennsylvania has hundreds of boroughs--it's the legal category of municipality one step up from incorporated township and one step down from city--but trust me, Philadelphia ain't one of 'em, nor will it ever be if we can help it, despite the influx of New Yorkers seeking hipness on the cheap.

A city is a political as well as a social or physical construct. In some US states, the city is the only legal form of municipal corporation allowed, so it doesn't matter how small it is, if a community wishes to exercise some local control over its affairs, it incorporates as a city in those states. In most of them, though, it is not, but the population threshold above which a municipality may legally incorporate as a city is usually quite low, often as low as 5,000 inhabitants. Cities of 30,000 to 50,000 inhabitants are quite common in the US, and some of these--especially those that house colleges or universities--can be surprisingly urbane for small communities. (Which is why fewer of these communities have 50,000 inhabitants or fewer.) Key West is a resort community, so of course it will have a much different feel from a "city" in the sense you or I might mean when we use the term. But city it is nonetheless, legally at least. --Sandy, posting this from the City of Chester, Pennsylvania, the state's oldest municipality, settled in 1644

Wow. Waded through Malawry's blog when I should be asleep and found your reference to this. Tonight I roasted cauliflower for the first time, mainly because I wanted to get out of the steamed-veggie rut. I had bought some Meyer lemons at Iovine's in the RTM on Saturday--one of those "Oh, yeah, I've heard of those, so I think I'll buy some, now what do I do with them?" purchases--and squeezed the juice of half of one over the purple cauliflower. Then I put it in a 375F oven and pulled it out after about 10 minutes. I don't think I roasted them long enough, but they did turn an interesting pinkish-red color where I had drizzled the lemon juice over them. They tasted pretty good too, and the remaining lemon half gave the kitchen a nice smell. (Edited to add: Photos in the "Dinner!" thread in Cooking Any Day Now.) As for our budding culinary educator: You go, girl!

apparently ... The Southernmost City in the Continental USA in fact ... ← Their site should be in the .gov or .fl.us domains, not .com

When last I checked this thread, it was on eGullet. I come back to find it's been moved to PLANetizen. I'm a bit overweight myself and have a slightly sprawling midsection, but I live where I live--right smack in the middle of the third-largest residential downtown in the United States (after Midtown and Downtown Manhattan and Chicago's Loop/Near North Side; Center City Philadelphia's population at last count was about 70,000 and climbing, about twice the size of and many times denser than Key West, Fla.*)--precisely because you can walk to just about everything you need or want, including the suburban trains that take me to my job in the faded industrial city of Chester, 15 miles down the road. The problem for us nowadays is that cities have always been shaped by the dominant modes of transport. William Penn's original vision for Philadelphia was of a "Greene Countrie Towne" where each block of the famous grid would contain just one dwelling--the resulting spaciousness would ensure that his Philadelphia would "always be wholesome and never burnt." But as water and walking were the main modes of transport at the time, Penn's Philadelphia proved impractical. Instead, America's first metropolis crowded itself into the blocks closest to the Delaware River. At the time of its construction in 1733-35, the Pennsylvania State House--Independence Hall today--was at the western edge of the built-up city. Oddly enough, it's today's Auto Age suburbs that probably most closely resemble the Philadelphia of Penn's dreams. And while millions of Americans enjoy living in them, some of them have this nagging feeling that there's something missing in them. I see that feeling expressed here once again. That spate of "Do the Suburbs Make You Fat?" articles that appeared last summer also touch on that same missing element. Is a home gym an adequate substitute? From a purely physical exercise standpoint, yes--but only if you use it. I think many of us would like to get our workouts in the course of doing something else, but have fewer and fewer opportunities to do that because of all the ways we've engineered exertion out of our lives. *Not to be confused with Key West Bar (207 South Juniper Street, just above Locust), one of Philadelphia's gayborhood watering holes.

Make that two of us. One of the closed outlets was at Broad and Catherine, about 15 minutes' walk from me. I would have loved to have been there for an event like this. Drifting slightly for a minute: There is one small consolation: The Broad and Catherine White Castle was converted into a Popeyes. However, with some Popeyes franchisees around here apparently giving up the ghost (the one in The Gallery is now just called "New Orleans Chicken"), I'm beginning to worry anew.

There are Pathmark supermarkets in the Philadelphia area, and maybe the next time I'm in the vicinity of Broad and Glenwood (North Philadelphia Amtrak station, which is now surrounded by a shopping center anchored by a Pathmark; as there is a Broad Street Subway stop adjacent, it's the easiest one for me to visit), I might pick up a package to see if I recognize them (and to try them on my roommate who (a) insists only on Dietz and Watson (b) seemed to have no problem with a couple of Hebrew Nationals I served him a couple of weeks ago). This week, Nathan's skinless were on sale at the Super Fresh for about 60% of what they normally run around here ($5.49; sale price $3.19 for a one-pound package). Needless to say, I snapped up two packages (one regular, one Cheddar cheese). Cold and heated reports coming soon.

I would certainly hope so! I certainly wouldn't darken the threshold of any restaurant that served cheese that resembled frottage, to pluck another French word the waiter didn't really know out of the blue, er, bleu. Never having eaten at Django, I cannot offer comment on the place's bellworthiness, either before or after the big downgrading. But I can comment on Craig LaBan as a writer. I still remember my reaction on reading his introductory column in the Inquirer and his first couple of reviews. It was this: "This guy overwrites horribly." Having been accused of this myself, I think I can spot the beast when it appears. I don't know what happened between then and now, but that has long since ceased to be the case. I enjoy reading his reviews now--they're sharper than the flabby ones he wrote early on without blunting his personality. Frankly, LaBan's trashing of Trust was one of the best bad reviews I've ever read.