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Discussion in 'The Observation Bar' started by GHT, Mar 21, 2015.
Caught my first Christmas ad on TV yesterday evening. That is so wrong.
We've been getting ads for the Christmas Train in Branson since April...
Chicago barbecue spare ribs-had em with and without sauce-it all depends upon individual preference I suppose.
Kansas City claims to be top dog but regional pride aside the best is where the heart is.
I've been to Chicago a number of times but, now that you mention it, the only barbecue I've had there was cooked on a relative's back yard grill. Any recommendations for the next time I'm there?
In general, I think KC is a little over rated. Arthur Bryant's though is worth waiting in line for.
I have taken up the Carolina custom of infusing it with vinegar.
No complaints so far!
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If you're in Chi town, go with South side Italian Beef.
BBQ is for hillbillys.
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Barbecue? Feh. Pastrami is the one true brisket.
Obviously we are not tip-toeing around vegans and vegetarians in this thread. Around here a favorite is whole roasted (or deep fried! ) ham hock. They call it Schweinhaxe up north, but locally it is called Stelze. Best served with a cold beer, good mustard, and freshly grated horseradish (Kren).
Le Colonial, a French-Vietnamese house in the Rush Street district where the grilled salmon is excellent
and shrimp is served with coconut sauce.
It’s hard to beat ham hocks and beans, an almost staple item on our working-class dinner table when I was a kid. My version typically includes carrot, onion, and celery.
Most recipes call for discarding the big chunks of fat after cooking, but I say to hell with that, much as my cardiologist might disagree. That’s where the flavor is.
Growing up in post war Britain, we had meat shortages because of rationing. It wasn't until 1954 that rationing was lifted and even then the scarcity of quality meat forced the price up beyond the budget of most working class families.
The most consumed meat on our menu, and probably that of many other families, was rabbit. Mother would stew it with garden grown root vegetables and serve it with suet dumplings. Later as a variety of different meats became available, rabbit was long forgotten, and it didn't help when I learned that they were rodents. Later, I found out that rabbits were no longer classified as rodents but were in fact lagomorphs. It still didn't help, nor did the the myths that went about. Rabbit was often sold chopped up in small cubes ready for stewing, schoolchildren would say that it was chopped up to disguise other animal meat, like cats and dogs. As a ten year old that really tugged at the heart strings.
We ate a lot of lobster when I was growing up, and I grew to hate it. Lobster in Maine in the 1960s and 70s was not a coveted luxury food, except to suckers from out of state. For locals it was the food of last resort, something you bummed off some guy you knew who worked as a sternman because you couldn't afford anything else. A lobster supper served with boiled dandelion greens was one step up from raiding garbage cans.
There are still plenty of places today you can get ready-to-cook lobster right off the boat for less per pound than hamburger. And I still hate it.
The appeal of lobster is largely wasted on me. I don’t dislike it; it’s more a take-it-or-leave-it thing with me. It’ll do, but I wouldn’t go far out of my way for it.
Crab, on the other hand ...
The way of life you describe is all but extinct now.
Among my modest assortment of paper ephemera (I resist calling it a collection, because that would suggest that I’m a collector, which wouldn’t be the most accurate characterization) are numerous old calendars. The ones made for a rural audience include pages for entering revenue generated by sales of eggs, poultry, other livestock, etc.; breeding charts with expected due dates; expense categories; and so forth.
Farming doesn’t work like that anymore. Dairymen do dairy exclusively, chicken raisers raise chickens exclusively, etc.
My dear old mom married a fellow from a dairy family. He croaked when I was four months old. She was a “town girl,” but she grew up on the outskirts of town, alongside a creek, which provided water for the family’s large vegetable garden. Her dad shot rabbits for the dinner table, and was careful to take only the shots highly likely to reach their targets. Bullets cost money, after all. Hunting and fishing and gardening weren’t hobbies.
They didn’t get indoor plumbing until she was in her teens.
Sounds like a case of splitting hares.
I'm sorry, that bit of word play came to mind and I couldn't resist.
My favourite audiophile was a guy who workedc with my dad many yearsw ago - long dead now. He used to opine that there was no point spending more than £xx.xx on hifi equipment (the exact amount usually being just about a rung or at most two up from entry-level, audiophile quality gear), "because after that, even if you can measure the difference, the human ear can't hear it -so why bother?" I often think he had a point. It's mind-boggling howm uch you can spend on hifi if you have the mind and the means. I once discussed the difference between vinyl and cd with a guy who'd done all the experiments with that on a pal's expensive system. This system, I kid you not, had a stylus that alone cost four grand....
There's a lovely fellow that I know who is finding hair loss depressing. He actually looks great when he lets his barber trim what's left close to his head. The evening before the recent festival that we went to, a number of us went to his camper van for drinks and a chit-chat. Admittedly he has cheered up a lot since President Trump's bouffant became the topic of many a political cartoonist, but he still ponders on whether science will find a solution.
I remarked that he could always have a rabbit or two tattooed on his plate might help. Looking at me he waited for the punchline. From a distance they look like hares.
As a Texan, I'm insulted.
And Lobster? I hope to never touch the stuff.
Fort Worth isn't known as "Cowtown" for nothin'.
Today, I discovered a good trick to get peace in the railcar:
When you are one of the first people, who entered, just start to fake being asleep or falling asleep!
Amtrak, on some train lines, has a "quiet" car - no cellphones, no loud conversations. It's heaven.