Jaymes

I'm on an extended stay in the San Francisco Bay area (where I used to live) and today we returned to a favorite, R&G Lounge. After a delicious lunch of Hot & Sour Soup, Hot Chicken & Broccoli, R&G Special Beef, and Honey-Walnut Prawns, all of which were absolutely wonderful, we walked a block or two to Golden Gate Bakery, on Grant. Golden Gate is one of the best-known and most popular Chinese bakeries in the Bay Area, and with reason. Famous for its custard tarts and dense sweet-lotus-seed moonpies, the noisy, boisterous line often stretches several yards down the sidewalk outside of the small store. There is much arguing and jostling for position if some pushy newcomer tries to cut the line. Which is what happened to us today. One woman, clearly a regular, knew exactly where to go to work herself into the power position. She said nothing, just threaded her way through the throng, sprinting where possible, until she reached nirvana -- that exact spot at the end of the counter where the workers arrive from the back of the store bearing their trays of steaming hot custard tarts fresh from the ovens. At first, the woman seemed so purposeful and unapologetic that everyone assumed she was there about something else. Maybe to drop off something. Maybe to pick up a friend. But no. As she spoke in Chinese it immediately became clear that she was after just what the rest of us were. Golden, creamy, flaky egg custard tarts. Six dozen. I've sat on beaches where the seagulls flapped, squawking and screaming over this bit of leftover sandwich, that portion of forgotten french fries, wings beating furiously, screeching threats and warnings. Those seagulls had nothing on this line of Chinese housewives suddenly frantic with worry that the interloper may had taken most, gotten all, gotten theirs. Even though the cacophony was entirely in Chinese, there was no mistaking the problem. Suddenly someone in authority appeared. "Not to worry," I'm sure she said, "there's plenty for everyone." Still uncertain, still ruffled, the birds cackled and pecked. But the interloper gathered up her precious pink boxes and made her getaway. And there was plenty for everyone. Even plenty for me. I got two dozen of the egg custard tarts, one dozen of the coconut custard tarts, a half-dozen each of the BBQ pork buns and the sweet-lotus-seed moonpies with melon filling. And boy were they good. The egg and the coconut custard tarts were still hot from the ovens. I ate one of each as soon as I got back to the car. As tasty as I've ever had. Rich custard full of ripe eggy flavor. Flakes of tender pastry rained down upon my shirt and onto the steering wheel of the car. The moonpies, too, were best ever. I honestly couldn't choose a favorite among the egg custard, the coconut custard, the moonpies. And the pork buns also were good.

Ah yes....orange drink arnge drank.

When I think of long summer evenings spent on a front porch somewhere in the south, watching the setting sun peeking from behind the magnolia tree, and the shadows slowly crawling toward you across the lawn, and the fireflies beginning to flash, and the kids playing Mother May I barefooted on the St Augustine grass, I see myself with a long, tall, frosty glass of iced coffee -- lots of cream, lots of sugar. And ask oldtime southerners what really chills your soul on a blisteringly hot summer day when the "air" is out, and they'll tell you it's cold buttermilk, sometimes with a hank of freshly baked bread for dippin'.

And that's really the main thing, ain't it? It's all good!

Of course (to me, anyway) the main advantage of the intial boiling in liquid is the fact that you can add flavor at that step with such things as citrus juices, chiles, tequila, beer, etc. Not sure how that would affect your comparisons between the two methods.

No. New Yorkers don't "get" BBQ. But that doesn't mean that they shouldn't have, eat, appreciate, even love good barbecue. Of course they should. And eventually, they certainly can "get" it. Perhaps even develop their own special take on it. After all, as is well-evidenced in several other current threads, barbecue -- even the part of it that one "gets" -- arrived from elsewhere. In the American south, it probably came from slaves, and the Caribbean. In East Texas, the African American influence is still strong. In Central Texas the smoked meats of German immigrants dominate. In Southwest Texas, it's the barbacoa of the vaqueros. Kansas City owes much of its barbecue tradition to Arthur Bryant, a Texas boy passing through. He decided to stay and Kansas City and barbecue history were changed forever. So it's entirely possible for New York eventually to serve up great barbecue. Even the "gettin'" kind. But you gotta start somewhere, and Danny Meyers is taking a great first step. I respect and admire him for that. And wish y'all well. All y'all.

Carolyn -- are you still working at both vineyards? Or one more than the other. I mean, if a girl were in the area and wanted to stop by for a visit, which one should she try?

Same way you'd thicken gravy itself. Use a roux. Mix equal parts flour and butter (oil or crisco if you prefer) and brown in a little pan. Lighter colored rouxs give you thicker gravies and sauces. A roux is equal parts butter and flour? Who knew? Apparently everyone but me A roux is actually equal parts flour and any fat, not just butter. Yes, and when thickening stews, I often skim the fat from the simmering stock and use that. And if you're wondering why they call it "roux," it's because as you cook just the roux alone, it goes through various stages of redness....all the way from light to a deep red so dark that it looks black.

The Pelican Club was established because Galvestonians LIKE private clubs. High-tone Galvestonians hate socializing with "those people," whomever they determine "those people" to be. Who you are and who you "play with" in Galveston is pretty directly connected to which invitation-only private clubs you join. It's been a while since I lived there, so can't remember all the names, but there are private party clubs for the smart youngish set, and organizations like the Artillery (pronounced 'Ah-TILL-rih') Club for the older crowd. They host such high-tone events as debutant presentations and charity functions. The "Snow Ball" each year is a must-do if one is anyone. And of course, there's always the Junior League and the Galveston Historical Foundation. Stepping into the Pelican Club is like stepping into a time machine that whisks you back to an earlier era of graciousness, for a certain "class" of people. In Galveston, nothing matters so much as whether or not you are old-money and belong to one of several important families. If you're not, it is hoped that you are at least BOI (Born on the Island), and you'd better be light-skinned as well. If you fail in any of these categories, you are lumped in with the "those people" that must wait on line at Gaido's. I always got the Crabmeat au Gratin. I absolutely love it. I've asked at Gaido's several times if I can order it, and was told no, although I didn't press it. The menus at both places are similar, but several high-end dishes and specials are only available at the Pelican Club. All three of my children have spent at least one summer of their lives waiting tables at Gaido's. My son said that whether or not you can get a Pelican Club signature dish often depends on the waiter at Gaido's and how busy they are. As he said, "Most of the people that are aware of the Pelican Club, especially the menu there, BELONG to the Pelican Club so it doesn't come up much." And the dress is old-South high-tone as well. "Church clothes" describes it perfectly. PS - Should add that it's been quite a few years since I lived there. So all of this information may be hopelessly out of date. Galveston may, indeed, have dragged itself into at least the late 20th Century Cent'rih.

That's how I took his remarks as well--humor, parody, and a bit of potential audience-baiting to get things stirred up. I can vouch for one thing--his being right on-target about white people crossing the tracks to get their barbecue from black people. Yes, and I know of at least one black-owned BBQ joint that even used that in their ad campaign: "'Crosstown BBQ' -- Because even white folks drive crosstown to get it." And another interesting thing, to me anyway, are the different 'sides' offered from the various cultures. I like Sweet Potato Pie for dessert after a BBQ meal. That's ubiquitous in African-American joints, but usually unavailable in places with different cultural influences. And then there's the "sweet baked beans" vs "BBQ pinto beans," and the myriad types of cole slaw and potato salad. Not to mention the famous smoked-meat temples of Central Texas that, having been established by German immigrants as butcher shops and meat markets, offer no sides at all.

Well. Like the kids say, OMG. I am totally blown away by these accolades. Of course, let me hasten to add that this isn't "my" method -- I got the basic method from a Mexican friend, and it's been honed and refined and tweaked and adapted for personal preference for generations -- long before I ever cubed a pork shoulder. So all I can take credit for is passing it on. But the fact that others are enjoying it as much as I do is unbelievably thrilling. Thank you all so much for taking the time to let me know.

Unfortunately, I'm neither Italian, nor do I live in Italy. I'm actually the typical American of polyglot ancestry, and I live in Austin, Texas. But I've traveled to Italy many times, and hope to do so again in the future. You're very welcome here at eGullet. I know we are all eagerly looking forward to your posts!

Hello, Pia! Where are you? In Italy? Are you Italian?

I would never go so far as to attribute a food's success ENTIRELY to good marketing and trendiness (although I suspect Starbucks Frappuccino comes darned close!) Okay, I'll grant you that.

Fruitcake Eaters Anonymous Unite! Hello. My name is Jaymes and I like fruitcake. It started years ago when I fell in with a bad crowd. My granny and her cronies. Around October, the packages would begin arriving. They were from some fruitcake pusher down in Corsicana, Texas. Granny would get a big grin on her face, and open them one by one. It was obvious she was hooked. Inside the packages were round, red tins that just reeked of Christmas. Granny would sit them on her big oak kitchen table, and then retrieve some booze from her stash under the cupboard. She'd sprinkle each cake with a little rum and some brandy, then seal them tightly, and stash them away, up high in the coat closet. Every few days, we'd go through this routine. Open them up, sprinkle with booze, seal them, and then back they'd go, into the cool darkness of the coat closet. I can still recall the aroma of the fruit and the cake and the booze, and the forbidden pleasures that were ripening in their little red tins. Until finally December arrived, and the fruitcakes were heavy and moist, redolent with their nuts and candied fruits and my granny's booze. That's when Granny would open one of the tins for us. It was so moist it was almost like a pudding. She'd scoop some of it into coffee cups and we'd pour over a little heavy sweet cream and eat it with a spoon. Like most addicts, Granny wasn't happy unless she dragged down others into her hellish nightmare, so she'd haul the rest of her booze-soaked cakes around the neighborhood, recruiting new members to her gang. As I grew, I was exposed to many other bad habits -- most of which I gradually left behind. But each October, when the nights begin to cool and the leaves turn to crimson and gold, the memories of the round red tins of Christmas call to me still. I am afraid there is no hope. Are there others out there like me? Should we start a support group? Perhaps we can meet in Corsicana. If you'll bring the brandy, I'll bring the rum.

Oh yeah, me too. I forget that so many people hate it (or are just eating it to be trendy, you know).

Esperanza, exactly where are you? I'm planning an extensive driving trip through Mexico sometime during the coming year and would love to meet you!

I do that too....sweet & sour for me. Can't have a PB&J sandwich without a sour pickle alongside.

Strange post. Sounds as though you don't believe anyone ever possibly could like a thing that you don't like just because they...well...like it. They have to be following a trend, or trying to prove some sort of something to some sort of someone. I first discovered cilantro/coriander some 35 years ago while living in Hong Kong. They called it Chinese parsley. Loved it then. Also lived in Panama where it grew wild and was called cilantro and it flavored deliciously-aromatic beans. Loved it then. Don't think that 'trendy' crowd had ever even heard of it. Sometimes, folks like stuff just because they like it. Strange post.

Actually, if you do as instructed and click on the image, it takes you through a wonderful series of photos, a travelogue of Bali. There are many gorgeous images there, including several of foods, such as this one showing durian, salak, and rambutan. (Note the deep purple of the mangosteens peeking out.)

I've heard that you can buy decent ones in Vancouver markets, but don't know since I haven't tried them. Sadly, they are in many ways an unhappy habit to form because they are so hard to get in many parts of the world. When I lived in Hong Kong, they were my fruit of choice. Also widely availble in the Philippines, where I also lived for several years. They are one of the most beautiful of fruits. Deep purple rind, which you open to find snow-white cloves bursting with sweet/sour fruity goodness. I think that this is one of the prettiest photos I've found of mangosteen/mangostine.

RE the BBQ. If you don't have lots of time, and can't get to all three, or down to City Market, I'd suggest that you do Black's and Smitty's. Because of a recent family feud, Smitty's is now in the old building where Kreuz started back in 1900, and the building alone is really something to see. Walk through the whole thing. It's like a temple of Texas 'Cue. You feel like you're walking on hallowed ground, not to mention breathing in hallowed air. It's not to miss. As far as the 'cue itself goes, every Texan has his or her own opinion, but that building is sacred to us all. Like Scott, I, too, like Black's brisket best, but all these places have wonderful meats. Eat what you can and then get some packed up to take home. Get shoulder clod, pork chops, hot links, etc. At Smitty's or Kreuz's, you can give it a go eating the way the oldtimers do -- tear the meat apart with your fingers, shake on a little hot sauce (hot sauce and crackers are available) and eat it that way. The real purists think that the sort of heavy barbecue sauces the rest of us are so fond of just overpowers the smoky goodness of the meat, hiding it completely. They prefer the thin, vinegary type of hot sauces (like Tabasco), which they believe enhances the meat, not masks it. Give both styles a try. Regardless as to which you prefer, the first time you do it that way, it is a revelation. I'd also suggest that you take in one of our traditional old dance halls. In Austin, that's the Broken Spoke. Or you can drive over to Greune. As for the rest of the music scene, there's always something happening. The music districts are famous and you can just wander along sticking your head in here and there. There are other well-known venues to check out: Stubbs, Antone's, Backyard, and waaaay too many more to mention here. Also, because of the fact that a lot of movies are made here, and a lot of actors have bands, you often can see somebody like Dennis Quaid or Russell Crowe or Kevin Bacon live on stage (not that they're necessarily any good, but there may be a pretty high curiosity factor). The Austin American Statesman and the Chronicle both have good entertainment sections describing who is playing where. For Mexican food, one thing you can't get anywhere else is the Sunday brunch at Fonda San Miguel. It's interior Mexican food, and it's wonderful. But mainly, it's distinctly Austin. Less distinguished but also very good is Curra's (get the Cochinita Pibil -- the national dish of the Yucatan). There's really good Mexican food all over Texas (both Mexican and TexMex) and that's another thing about which every Texan has a very strong opinion. And, as with barbecue, they're all "right." Austinites like to go to the Oasis on Lake Travis for the view at sunset, but as will be repeated to you over and over ad infinitum, don't eat there. Get drinks and maybe an appetizer that they can't screw up, like chips and queso, watch the sun set, and then go over to Hudson on the Bend for dinner. But I think watching the sun go down at the Oasis is something everyone that visits Austin should do at least once. As is a trip on one of the "bat boats" that leave the dock on Town Lake (just down from the Hyatt) around twilight every night in the summer. Something else that is now on the tourist trail is Central Market, our "new concept" grocery store. I like the north location best. They often have classes with guest celebrity chefs so, depending when you're going to be here, you might even sign up for a class one of those nights. Also, Fiesta is interesting (depending on where you live, of course). It's a large grocery store that caters primarily to Hispanics. They have a pretty-good snack bar there when you first walk into the store, but to me anyway, it's fascinating to walk through and see the different variety of things on display. But whatever you decide to do, this is a great town and you'll have a great time. Gee I love it. Sniff.

I, too, vote that you fly into Albuquerque, rent a car, drive to Santa Fe and northern New Mexico, taking the famous Turquoise Trail and High Road. In fact, I think I'm gonna do that very thing as soon as possible.

Link to buy "Mexican Family Favorites Cook Book" by Maria Teresa Bermudez on Amazon. Just in case anyone decides to order this, want to add a disclaimer. This is a small, cheap, unpretentious, unassuming paperback. It's not really a 'cookbook' as such; more a recipe collection. Anyone familiar with Mexican cooking would probably find it extremely basic; even unimaginative. And it's almost exclusively Northern Mexico/border cooking at that. Experienced cooks of Mexican food will undoubtedly find it too simple, and boring, and be disappointed. Also, Maria tries to use ingredients readily available in the U.S. so, for example, few recipes call for Mexican cheese. They usually call for cheddar or jack. But it's such a friendly, homey little book, that for some reason, I really like it. PS - Thanks chiquita linda for letting me know that the carnitas were a hit. Makes my day.

I tell you, once you figure out that it's "okay" to combine a can or so of good-quality tomatoes, some seasonings to taste, and a blender, whole new worlds open up to you.