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Beer Can Chicken

In the summer months, two things American men love are grilling and drinking beer. Put them together and you have beer can chicken, in some parts also known as "chicken on the throne".

Why beer? About.com explains: "First of all, you are adding a source of moisture to the chicken that keeps it from drying out. Second,...the yeast and malt found in beer reacts with the chicken, particularly the skin, making it thin and crispy while the meat remains juicy."

Amateurs beware: to achieve the perfect balance of flavors, you need also have the right balance of gravity.

Those worried about their birds tipping over can purchase devices such as Williams-Sonoma's Vertical Chicken Roaster or Captain Steve's Beer Can Roaster, although purists prefer a half-drunk can of Bud.

Photo taken at Cool Acres Ranch, Orchard, Texas

Recession Proof

Hot dogs and ice cream on a glorious spring day.

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A Carnivore's Delight

"The New York State steak dinner, or 'beefsteak,' is a form of gluttony as stylized and regional as the riverbank fish fry, the hot-rock clambake, or the Texas barbeque," wrote Joseph Mitchell in his now-classic New Yorker article (ca. 1939).

 

Until the passage of the Nineteenth Amendment, giving women the right to vote, these dinners were strictly male affairs, usually thrown by or in association with political clubs. Like the German-influenced barbeque still found in areas of Texas today (see Insufficient's earlier posting here), the old New York beefsteak would have foregone amenities like knives, forks, napkins and tablecloths. 

 "The life of the party at a beefsteak used to be the man who let out the most ecstatic grunts, drank the most beer, ate the most steak, and got the most grease on his ears," wrote Mitchell.

All of this changed in 1920 when the beefsteaks went co-ed and, in Mitchell's telling, "degenerated into polite banquets" with the forced addition of such things as "Manhattan cocktails, fruit cups, and fancy salads to the traditional menu of slices of ripened steaks, double lamb chops, kidneys, and beer by the pitcher."

 

Fizz Lit

In case you didn't get enough of the bubbly on New Year's Eve, two new books discuss the provenance of fizzy drinks and the colorful characters behind them.

One is a biography of Barbe-Nicole Clicquot Ponsardin, better known as the Widow Clicquot, or La Grande Dame, who in 1805, at age 27, assumed control of a modest vineyard in the Champagne region of France  and proceeded to turn it into one of the world's first major, international mega-brands.

The other is Steven Johnson's "The Invention of Air", which tells the story of Joseph Priestely, a prolific 18th century scientist and theologian, whose own "happiest" discovery was the invention of soda water.

Is fizz the new black? Could be.

Organics will appreciate the healing qualities associated with bubbly drinks. And, in today's environment, economics may also play in fizz's favor. During the Great Depression, soda water was known as "two cents plain" -- the cheapest drink available at the soda fountain. In recent months, champagne consumption has held flat, while prosecco sales have been growing by double-digit percentages, reports the New York Times.

Even Paris Hilton is into it...

Holy Smokes, Texas Style

The home of the best barbecue in the United States is a debate of biblical proportion, but it is generally accepted that the German-influenced meat markets in and around central Texas are of an exceptional quality and character, whatever denomination you subscribe to.

Many of the top-rated smokehouses in Texas Monthly's quinquennial review of the fifty best barbecue joints in Texas are within an hour's drive of Austin and San Antonio, making it theoretically possible to visit several of them in a single day's tour, as your correspondent did recently while passing through Austin and the Hill Country area:

The last time your correspondent had “real” barbecue was at Charlie Vergos’ Rendezvous in Memphis (see earlier post here). This meal consisted of chopped pork topped with coleslaw, served up on a bun by a waiter in a white apron.

The central Texas barbecue was an experience of a considerably different sort.

Special Delivery

Food delivery is, for many New Yorkers, as much a regular routine as opening the refrigerator. It may make economic sense, given the high cost of real estate, which makes having a stocked kitchen pantry a luxury for most of us. At least we rationalize it that way.

Photo courtesy of newsriffs's flickr photostream

There have been other attempts to explain this ritual. These have ranged from the sociological (the prevalence of two-job families), to the cultural (the hatred of cooking by yuppies), to the geological (the city is relatively flat, hence good for bicycle delivery men). See, for examples, this article from the archives of the New Yorker.

Eureeka!

Photo courtesy of N. Gama's flickr photostream

Some men hit it big by striking gold. In 1948, while cleaning the basement beneath his Memphis diner, Charlie Vergos hit it big by striking coal - or, to be more precise, a coal chute. The rest, as they say, is history.

He expanded from ham-and-cheese sandwiches to ribs, for which the establishment (now run by Charlie's kids) is well known. They also make a mean pork shoulder sandwich, as your correspondent can attest from his recent visit.

The staff, with names like Big Jack, Stinson, Robert Senior and Robert Junior, are nearly as legendary as the food. You can read their bio's and order a few slabs of their world-famous ribs (for delivery via Fedex, another Memphis hometown favorite) on their web site - www.hogsfly.com. It's worth a visit.

Outdoor Drinking

Your correspondent is constantly impressed by the quality and variety of outdoor drinking establishments he finds around London, a crowded, sprawling city universally known for its rainy climate.

Perhaps one reason it works so well here is that, despite the more than 150 wet days a year, the city is home to a number of pubs with lovely riverfront views, making water as much an advantage as it is a potential hindrance to enjoying an outdoor pint.

Whitstable Oyster Festival

Whitstable is an old seaside town in Kent, about 5 miles north of Canterbury.

It's lovingly referred to as the "Pearl of Kent", owing both to its ambiance and its oysters.

Oysters are known to have been collected in the area since at least Roman times, but the town's marquee event - The Whitstable Oyster Festival - traces its history back (only) to the Middle Ages.

This nine-day affair kicks off on the nearest Saturday to the day of Saint James, the patron saint of oysters, which falls in late July, at the close of the oyster season.

The Sunday Roast

"Sunday roast" is the traditional British main meal served on Sundays (usually in the early afternoon), and consisting of roasted meat together with accompaniments.

Apparently, the tradition originated in Yorkshire during the time of the Agricultural Revolution. It occurred on Sundays, says Wikipedia, because the meat could be left in the oven to cook before church, then would be ready for the consumption when the family arrived home.

Sunday roasts are still common in homes, pubs, and restaurants across the UK. It can be served up in a few different meat varieties. This afternoon, at our local pub, your correspondent sampled the roast beef served with Yorkshire pudding and horseradish sauce, while his companion went for the roast lamb with mint sauce. Both dishes were accompanied by parsnips, potatoes, carrots, and red wine (although beer is also fine).

Such a meal is typically followed by two "sister" traditions.

One is the Monday pie, which makes use of the left-over meat.

The other is the Sunday nap.

Sunday In the Park with Hyenas

Opened in 1816, the Regent's canal runs between Primrose Hill, below, and Regent's Park.

It's no longer used for commercial purposes (unless you count the 400 kilovolt electric cables that run beneath it), making it a perfect spot for a tranquil, Sunday afternoon stroll.

Or so we thought, before the pack of hyenas came calling.

It was feeding time at the London Zoo, which the canal bisects, and this man -- a zookeeper, we presume -- had just thrown a piece of raw meat into the dog run.

The meal was dangling on a bungee-like chord over a tree, which caused a great deal of commotion among the pack. The more athletic ones were able to jump several feet into the air to grab the meat, while the others tried unsuccessfully, until the zoo man gave them the slack they needed.

Mmmmm... tasty.

Petersham Nurseries

We had a lovely lunch today near Richmond at a place called Petersham Nurseries.

The restaurant was inside one of the greenhouses, and a number of the waitstaff wore wellie boots.

It was a very English scene. There was even this woman, below, who looked like Mrs. Doubtfire.

In addition to the restaurant and cafe, the nursery also sells antiques, gardening equipment, and various home and bath products, all of which you can purchase here online. Oh yes, and plants!

After lunch, we walked along the Thames and up to Richmond park.

English Breakfast

Had breakfast this morning at Vera's Sandwich Bar. Great place, never mind the owner is actually named Terry.

A hearty plate of eggs, with a side of real London life, including cigarette smoke at 8 am.

Marylebone Farmer’s Market

We stopped by the Marylebone market this weekend, and bought several varieties of goat cheeses (garlic and chili) and sausage (duck, venison, and traditional pork).

Note to self: the English will make a sausage out of anything, even pigeon.