Fall Seasonals for the Sceptic

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And you wonder why I shy away from pumpkin ales...

Fall and winter bring with them a plethora of seasonal beers: Oktoberfest, pumpkin ale, Christmas ale, and all the hybrids in between. Most of them I view sourly as marketing stunts to take up more shelf space to sell more of the brand. Rather than bitter prematurely, though, I tasted a sample of fall beers to try to prove myself wrong.

Oktoberfest, as a style, is synonymous with the Märzen style. Märzen is German for March, which is around when this style is typically brewed. Back in the days before refrigeration it was too difficult to brew in the summer, so this beer was brewed in early spring, stored in a cool spot over summer, and brought out in time to celebrate Oktoberfest. How better can one celebrate the approach of winter than by getting blitzed?

Oktoberfests are known for their full-bodied, roasty toasty-ness. I often find the American take on them too malty or sweet, but lucked out with two excellent examples recently. Fat Head’s Oktoberfest and Victory Brewing’s Fest Beer are both lagers and both a gorgeous shade of carmely brown. Both also have a quality the popular lagers in America fail to achieve, in that they both taste really good.

I don’t know how far afield Fat Head’s distributes, but if you ever have a chance to pick one up, do so. Their Oktoberfest had a serious hop finish that was in no way bitter, but rather cleansing. (Ben noted that the beer was quite nutty, opening wide the opportunity for me to explain that that’s how I like ‘em.) The nuttiness was balanced though, leaving a rich, almost marzipan-like fullness in the middle. The complex malt base was well-balanced by the hops, revealing a full, smooth character one doesn’t find in run-of-the-mill lagers. Continue reading →

At the Mother Earth News Fair: Torrential Rains, Pens of Alpacas, & an Improbably Delicious Vegan Taco

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Alpacas, just about the softest creatures you'll ever touch, tend to look like Muppets when rained upon. They are always, in the words of Cluckin Awesome Coops owner Reece McClung, "very unlikely looking creatures."

The Mother Earth News Fair is an odd duck.  I write that rather than “strange beast” because the fair, held at a verdant ski resort an hour east of Pittsburgh last weekend, was far more plucky than beastly, and not just because torrential rain and wind walloped the thing all through Saturday.  The “fun-filled, hands-on sustainable lifestyle event” was awash, as could be expected, in exhibitor booths hawking bee keeping products and heirloom seeds and energy efficiency technologies.  There were over 240 pretty fantastic workshops, hour-long sessions with titles like “How to Cure Your Own Bacon,” and “Homesteading the Suburbs with the Kids,” and “Hand-Milk Your Goat; Make Feta, Chevre, and Ricotta; and Stay Out of Jail.”

But there were also exhibitors demonstrating for rapt middle aged men the newest and greatest development in drill bit technology, pens of alpacas, and a wildly popular booth selling slim plastic devices that allow women to pee standing up.  The event was slammed with people.  When the Continue reading →

I’ll See Your Rice and Raise You a Lentil: Shannon’s Easy Mujaddara

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mujaddara

Did you know that dishes that combine a grain and a legume (like peanut butter sandwiches or, um, mujaddara) offer your body a complete set of proteins?

Whenever we go to Jason’s parents’ house for a holiday, I can rest assured that lurking somewhere in the refrigerator will be a container of mujaddara for us to “snack on.” The quotation marks are necessary, because the container is approximately the size of a bathtub. I chalk up the mammoth proportions to two factors: 1) Bob, Jason’s dad, is immensely fond of the Bosnian guy who owns a restaurant near his company’s offices, and 2) we are a clan that can polish off a vast quantity of the rice and lentil dish with alarming speed.

As delicious as the Richmond holiday version is, it’s not always within easy reach when a mujaddara craving hits, so I recently went hunting for a recipe. There are approximately a zillion floating around the internet (and yes, I’m about to add one more). Because I loathe soggy rice and was concerned about my own ability to time things correctly, I combined a couple versions that called for the rice and lentils to be prepared separately. Even though that probably makes it less traditional, the final product turned out quite well—aromatic and subtle and earthy, a warmly comforting end to a chilly fall day.

Shannon’s Easy Mujaddara

  • 1 cup lentils (any variety will work, but the baby ones are nice)
  • 1 onion, chopped
  • 1 tablespoon olive oil
  • 2 cups water, vegetable stock, white wine, or a combination of these
  • 2 cinnamon sticks
  • 1 tablespoon cumin
  • ½ teaspoon allspice
  • Salt and pepper to taste
  • 1 cup rice
  • 3 small or 2 medium onions, sliced Continue reading →

An Elizabethan Tribute to Canadian Halibut

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This past Spring, Shannon and I traveled to Vancouver Island and made a stop in small town surfer mecca Tofino.  While there, we visited The Schooner Restaurant, and I ordered the Halibut Bawden Bay entree.

It was so good I had to write an Elizabethan Sonnet in tribute.

From seas I did once shy because their fruit
Did not appeal.  For life wants life, (will flee
its death), and blood is not what I’m aboot.
Until a Schooner had my tastebuds tree’d.
Sun-crusted white Tofino halibut
Beneath corn’d pepper glaze with needle dressed
Near ghostly was an orchard caught and cut
And stuffed with shrimp and Brie and Dungeness.
The rain made blue and gray the sun setting
Into the mountain peaks that time will crush,
While dry behind the glass, and without frettings,
Post haste I crushed, myself, my dinner lush:
Proof succulence exists; and now you see
My stomach brought my conscience to its knees.

We also went to a parrot refuge while on the island. This has nothing to do with Tofino or halibut, but it's kind of wild, so I'm throwing it up.

 

Fourteen Centuries of Pretzels

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dirndl and pretzel

I admit that this is just a stock photo. But I covet both the pretzel and the dirndl.

Oktoberfest is drawing nigh (more quickly, actually, than October itself—the Munich festival begins next weekend), and though the most celebrated element of the festival is beer, I thought it might be worth delving into the history of another essential feature of both German and American festivities. “The crossbow competition?” you may ask. “The pork knuckles? The traditional hat sporting tufts of goat hair?” These are all good guesses. But in fact, I wish to focus your attention on the story of the pretzel.

Almost every fact in the pretzel’s twisted past (yes, I know–sorry) is up for debate. Though pretzels probably have their roots in the hard-baked biscuits that the Roman army carried into battle, the first of the familiar salted, knotted variety probably emerged on the European scene sometime in the 7th century, perhaps in conjunction with an egg-less Lent. The history, however, has become a little muddled, not least because Flemish painters saw pretzels as so fundamental that they painted them into depictions of the Last Supper. Confusing though this anachronistic tendency may be, I sort of appreciate their thinking: “If I like pretzels, who am I to deprive Jesus of a little nosh?”

Even the origins of the name are open to debate, with one camp (let’s call them the jewelry camp) saying that it comes from a Latin word for “bracelet” and another (let’s call them the pretzel fetishists) saying that it comes from the Latin word for “reward.” Continue reading →

Masala Peanuts: The Bar Snack of Superpowers if the World Were Fair

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Andrew took this photo. We busted out and used chopped cashews and almonds in place of peanuts. Then we destroyed them.

One of my favorite things in the world is Indian food.  I fervently hope that when America stumbles off the World Power pedestal India is there to step up and thus spread its fine, fine cuisine all across the globe.  Of course, I suppose that’s already happening, and if you don’t need to be a superpower, why solicit the headache and guilty conscience?  So maybe India can just keep working what seems to be working.  India, you are badass!  Your food is way better than China’s!!  Gastronomic superpower status is yours for the taking!!!  That’s the idea.

Amongst the grub that confers that badass status is what Shannon calls “Indian savory snacks,” which pretty much consists of something friable fried very, very deeply and smothered in various combinations of mouthwatering spices.  The best we have found is not a savory snack you buy in a package, however, but one you can make easily at home, and one you don’t need to fry the hell out of either.  Witness: masala peanuts.

We were introduced to masala peanuts by the writer Saloni Meghani in Calcutta (or Kolkata, if that’s your political persuasion).  They are apparently widely gnoshed bar food.  I have spend many, many hours – possibly years – in bars, and I can say with complete confidence that every single minute of that time would have been enhanced greatly with masala peanuts at my side.  And it’s not just me.  My brother reeled when I introduced them to him.  He stuffed soup spoonfuls-worth into his maw.  Now, pretty much whenever I visit him, we make a massive batch.  It rarely lasts beyond that evening, even if we make pounds.  It is not unheard of to stand in the fridge in one’s underwear in the middle of the night or in PJs the morning after and continue to crush these nuts.  The Leahey family has written songs about these nuts.  If the Israelites had masala peanuts instead of manna, they would have commanded all of Canaan in four years instead of forty.  The Yahweh of the Old Testament would have been a benevolent rather than jealous god.  The planet could have been a completely different place.  That’s how momentous this shit is. Continue reading →

Pardon Moi? Beer Lingo Defined, Part Un

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Ha, ha -- See, magic!

Whenever I go to a French restaurant (which, let’s be honest, is not all that often) I feel immediately intimidated by the real cloth napkins and, more importantly, the menu. I always end up ordering something with mushrooms in it, because champignons is my favorite French word. And parapluie, but they rarely offer umbrellas at those places.

I know for some a beer menu can seem to be in a foreign language, too, so I thought I’d start a series in which I translate a few of the trickier bits of beer lingo.

Let’s start with the ABV, which stands for Alcohol by Volume. This is often found as a percentage on the menu listing and describes how alcoholic or strong the drink is. This number means very little to me in a science-y sort of way, but I know what the percentages mean in a how-fast-you’ll-feel-drunk sort of way. Boring old Buds and Millers, etc are generally in the 3.5% to 4.5% range. They are not very alcoholic. I can only imagine this is why people buy it by the truckload. Five to six percent is fairly average with anything above seven being ones to be careful with, that is to drink slowly or forever hold your tongue. Continue reading →

School Lunch Contest! You Could Win!

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school lunchWhat’s that smell in the air? Is the crispness of fall? Or is it the trays of rectangular government-issue pizza being loaded into industrial ovens?  Few arenas of school life are as rife with drama as the cafeteria, and no one does his or her time there without coming out with a few war stories. Like the time I gagged on a hamburger, puked on myself and then plowed into a very elderly and startled-looking first grade teacher. Or the time Dave found a slimy brown mutant apple hiding inside his apple, turning all of us off fresh fruit for weeks. Or the time Maureen thought she had lost her tooth in a can of Vienna sausages and then thrown it away. (She hadn’t.)

We’re asking you to share with us your most hilarious or harrowing stories from the front lines of the lunchroom. Tales from any grade level or perspective (yes, teachers, that means you) are welcome. We’ll pick our favorites and share them on the blog next week. In addition to fame and accolades, one lucky grand prize winner will receive a special treat in the mail from us.

Submit your stories to submissions@pitchknives.com before the deadline of midnight on Saturday, September 14. Hoist high your brown bag, and let the lunch meat fly!

Fried Green Tomatoes and a Food Film Puzzle

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fried green tomatoes

I never met a fried vegetable I didn't like.

Last weekend, during a visit to my parents’ house, my mom fried up some green tomatoes from my dad’s garden that Jason and I scarfed down like they were going out of style. In addition to being tart and crispy and delicious (her secret: use seasoned fish fry for the breading instead of humdrum cornmeal), the tomatoes reminded us of the movie of the same name, particularly the awesome scene in which Kathy Bates wraps herself in Saran Wrap.

But Fried Green Tomatoes was hardly the first or last film to feature a food item in the title. Have you been following Llalan’s beer and movie guidelines? If so, you’ll be able to identify the movies that contain the following quotes. Ten of the titles include something edible; the other two feature beverages.
  1. kathy bates“In telling the story of my father’s life, it’s impossible to separate fact from fiction, the man from the myth. The best I can do is to tell it the way he told me.”
  2. “You realize we’re all going to go to college as virgins. They probably have special dorms for people like us.”
  3. “Seems like the government’s got more interest in a dead man than a live one.”
  4. “Thanks for the compliment, but I know how I look. This is the way I look when I’m sober. It’s enough to make a person drink, wouldn’t you say?”
  5. “No, I can’t. My wife can always tell. She can smell it on my sweater.”
  6. “Apart from you, they’re the most stupid creatures on this planet. They don’t plot, they don’t scheme, and they are not organized.”
  7. “Isaac started the whole thing. He’s a boy preacher who came to this town three years ago. At nine-years-old back then, he had a charming way that appealed to all the kids and teens like us to follow him with his own teachings of the bible and of the Old Testament. But me and Sarah thought he was just plain weird.”
  8. “Centipede, I do not know whether to kill you or kiss you.”
  9. “There was me, that is Alex, and my three droogs, that is Pete, Georgie, and Dim, and we sat in the Korova Milkbar trying to make up our rassoodocks what to do with the evening.”
  10. “This is not gonna work, Little Chef! I’m gonna lose it if we do this any more. We gotta, we gotta figure out something else. Something that doesn’t involve any biting, or nipping, or running up and down my body with your little rat feet.”
  11. “Think of your children pledging allegiance to the maple leaf. Mayonnaise on everything. Winter 11 months of the year. Anne Murray – all day, every day.”
  12. “If a bullet should enter my brain, let that bullet destroy every closet door… And that’s all. I ask for the movement to continue. Because it’s not about personal gain, not about ego, not about power… it’s about the “us’s” out there. Not only gays, but the Blacks, the Asians, the disabled, the seniors, the us’s. Without hope, the us’s give up – I know you cannot live on hope alone, but without it, life is not worth living.”
When you’re ready to see the answers, click away… Continue reading →

Roanoke Kinda Sucks (Except for this Moon Pie)

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I noted the existence of Moon Pies in a post a few weeks back.  I declared them “two pieces of cardboard stuffed with low-grade putty and shellacked in plastic.”  Lo and behold, on a trip down the Shenandoah Valley last week, I was forced to eat my words.  That, of course, has never happened before.

This eating of words proved to be, happily enough, the most pleasant part of our 20-hour stay in Roanoke, Virginia.  Shannon and I were both excited to visit Roanoke, though neither of us could say exactly why.  Maybe it was because it’s a city in the western edge of the state, a beautiful part of the country, or maybe it was because it shares the name of the famous Lost Colony, and few things get me as excited as groups of people, shrouded by the mists of history, mysteriously wiped off the face of the earth without a trace.  Regardless of the reasons for our excitement, modern Roanoke is a bit of a lost colony itself.  A railroad boom town gone bust, it is a charmingly refurbished and tiny city center ringed by a blasted landscape of empty streets and crumbling housing surrounded by lovely countryside carved into a sprawling network of McMansions.  Want to be depressed?  Drive around Roanoke.

But that charmingly refurbished city center did include the Euro Bakery, which sold us a homemade Moon Pie.  Now, the Moon Pie was born about a century ago across the border in Chattanooga.  It is supposed to be a mound of marshmallow glop sandwiched between two graham cracker-style cookies.  It is, without a doubt, vile.  This Moon Pie, however, appropriated the title for what is essentially a homemade Swiss Roll made in a Moon Pie shape.  Continue reading →