Archive for February, 2010

Oh, Sandy!

Steele, North Dakota
World’s largest sandhill crane (Sandy)

A quick history of Sandy the sandhill craneA quick history of Sandy the sandhill crane

In the race to build the superlative beast, it appears that the contest for world’s largest sandhill crane is down to a field of one. The 40-foot tall sheet metal avian (“Sandy”)  stands watching for tasty cars passing by on Interstate 94 (North Dakota’s big beast highway) in Steele, North Dakota. Easily visible from the highway, Sandy seems to have nested in an unlikely location. Unlike the fanfare for her bovine and bison counterparts, there are no billboards or gated parks that indicate her home. Sandy stands at the end of the giant gravel parking lot of the Lone Steer Motel Restaurant and Lounge, a place that would look at home in one of those movies where the car breaks down and you have to spend a creepy night. Sandy’s grassy plot is not conspicuously marked – there’s no entrance booth or path, just a couple of wooden kiosks describing the life and migratory habits of the sandhill crane. The park is populated with local plants, bushes and trees that were donated or purchased through a grant from the North Dakota Forestry Department. Read the rest of this entry »

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Cock-a-doodle-doo

Rooster Testicles

Mon Land Hot Pot City, San Gabriel, CA

Fresh rooster testiclesFresh rooster testicles

Although I’ve never seen a rooster strutting around the barnyard “balls-out”, I was surprised to learn that they actually have testicles. As a food adventurer, it occurred to me that after having had just about every part of the chicken, I was missing out on this delicacy. Desperate to find them locally, I turned to friend, writer and fellow blogger Eddie Lin who had the balls to suggest Mon Land Hot Pot City in San Gabriel, California (and no, this is not the last of the puns). I enlisted Josh (Trippy Food’s webmaster and usual partner in crime), as well as a few friends to join me in San Gabriel for a sack lunch (I warned you).

Mon Land Hot Pot City - we sat outsideMon Land Hot Pot City - we sat outside

Since it was a warm, sunny day we opted for the patio and were seated at a table with a stone top, a circular opening neatly cut into it (reminding me of a Korean BBQ). Instead of the familiar grill, our waitress placed a heating unit under the table and into the hole a huge metal bowl partitioned in the middle in the “ying/yang” style of Yunnan Province. One side was filled with a milky, beige broth and the other with a menacingly red one. These were heated to a rolling boil, and the steam coming off the liquid was pure, intoxicating, aromatic bliss. The red broth was spicy, with what appeared to be Tien Tsin chilies drowning in the oily abyss; both sides were flavored liberally with garlic, cloves, ginseng, ginger, goji berries and other unidentified spices. We had ordered our dishes from a pick list, and I was transfixed by the vapor when our food started to arrive. Read the rest of this entry »

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Dirty Socks Hot Spring

The yard, not the spring

Owens Lake in California’s Eastern Sierra mountains was once a lush wetland, but since most of the water was diverted to Los Angeles, it is a dry desert bed. At the southeast edge is a small man-made pool fed from an underground spring called Dirty Socks Hot Spring. The combination of the algae and sulfur in the water give this spring its namesake odor, and these days it is a rest stop for migratory birds. The sign is not for the spring itself (you have to know where to look to find it) but a public works yard in the area. The sign is of more interest than the springs (unless you’re a birder), a bit of humor as you drive by on Highway 190 wondering if you should keep the window rolled up. If you’re looking for the spring it’s about 7 miles past Highway, they’re on Highway 190 just past Highway 395; the sign (if its still there) is somewhere along the way.

Dirty Socks Hot Spring
GPS Coordinates: 36°19’45.87″N 117°56’57.42″W

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Toast’s Best Friend (Or Worst Enemy)

United Kingdom
Marmite

Marmite - Love it or Hate itMarmite - Love it or Hate it

Over the years, I have had the pleasure and opportunity to savor unusual food from across the globe. I have enjoyed guinea pig at at a table where the other diners didn’t like the way the entree was looking at them; I have delighted in the rich, buttery taste of the spiky and odiferous durian, while others were gagging in the bushes. To this day people wonder what is my kryptonite, my gastronomic achilles heel. Surely, there is some food-like substance that has the power to ruin my breakfast. Your honor, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, let the record state that for the murder of my taste buds, I find the defendant – Marmite – guilty as charged. I’m sure I am going to catch some flak from some of my British counterparts for this, but this is to be expected. In fact, the official Marmite web site is split into two sections accessed from the home page – one for folks who love it, the other for those who hate it. Hate seems like a harsh term, but it adequately describes those who intensley dislike this crime against nature disguising itself as food. Marmite is a spread for toast that is the by-product of beer production; it is a sludge-like substance made from yeast extract. It has the consistency and stickiness of molasses and the taste of salted crankcase oil from an engine run for 100,000 miles. I don’t really have a point of reference here, never having salted crankcase oil, but I’m willing to bet I’m right.

I give Marmite the old college tryI give Marmite the old college try

Marmite has been a breakfast staple in Her Majesty’s realm since 1902, originally sold in earthenware jars (presumably to keep the evil at bay). Because the source is the same, it is similar to the famous Australian Vegemite (thank you, Men at Work) but with a unique taste (since the manufacturing process is slightly different). When mentioning to my friends in the UK that I have tried Marmite for breakfast I am greeted with either a “Dear God in Heaven, why?” or “Heavenly – I love it!” The conflict between love and hatred of the spread has even prompted a classic commercial for the product that perfectly demonstrates the two sides; I will only say that it needs to be seen to be appreciated. As with any allegedly edible substance, I have given it the old college try numerous times. My first encounter with uni (sea urchin) was less than desirable, but it turns out that sampling sushi in Michigan for the first time may not be the best approach – a second attempt in California was enough to win me over. Sadly, I have tried Marmite approximately 5 times now, each with the same result. Since the traditional application is to slather the goo on toast, I’ve even tried it with artisan breads hoping to improve the experience – ever seen a loaf of bread commit suicide? At each sitting I completely eat the slice of toast, hoping that some subtle undertones or mysterious aftertastes come into play, but the result is always the same. The heady aroma of fermented yeast, paired with the saltiness and glue-like consistency always results in something like an episode of FOX TV’s “When Breakfast Foods Attack”. A freind had sent me a bag of Marmite cashews – roasted cashews lightly coated in Marmite – but for some odd reason the taste was not overwhelming and I was able to finish the bag.

Marmite cashews, a good entry pointMarmite cashews, a good entry point

Whenever I am sampling something for the first time, whether with family members or friends out dining, I always impart the same advice – do not say it’s disgusting until you try it. Have a nibble, a sip, and if you don’t like it, you’ll never have to eat it again. I do not wish to discourage anyone from trying new and unusual foods, and my opinion is just that. To those of you traveling to (or living in) the UK, I advise you to at least try some at breakfast and decide for yourself, but I strongly caution against the investment of a large jar should you decide to make a trip to the market. Personally, I believe in the manifestation of evil on Earth, and for me, Marmite is proof of that.

Marmite
Available at most UK groceries and import stores in the US

See video of Val eating Marmite
See video of Val and friends eating Marmite cashews

See a hilarious commercial for Marmite

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O What A Glorious Sicht

Scotland, UK

Burns Night Supper

The guest of honor - the haggisThe guest of honor - the haggis

Few events celebrate both a famous poet and a national dish quite like the Scottish celebration that is the Burns Supper. The event is traditionally held on the birthday of “Scotland’s favorite son” and national poet, Robert Burns. Burns was born on January 25 in 1759 and on that night it is not uncommon throughout Scotland and other parts of the United Kingdom to gather to memorialize not only Burns, but also haggis, the national dish of Scotland he made famous. The annual Burns Supper generally follows a particular structure, with the dish immortalized in Burns’ “Address to a Haggis” being the guest of honor. A true Scotsman would either be touched by Burbank’s Buchanan Arms holding a Burns Supper, or recoil in horror of having Americans give it a go for olde Rabbie Burns.

The oddly named cocky leeky soupThe oddly named cocky leeky soup

The event appeared to be advertised primarily by word of mouth – it was nearly impossible to get in. Buchanan Arms have been staging the event for years, and the proprietor mentioned that they get the same people in attendance year after year. It was difficult finding a Scottish accent in the place, but many of the men in attendance favored a kilt over pants. Friend and fellow blogger Eddie Lin wondered if a Catholic school uniform skirt could pass for a kilt, but I believe it would only give the impression that one was planning a night out in San Francisco’s Castro District. I opted for a green plaid scarf, hoping I wasn’t going to start a brawl for wearing a tartan pattern from a disgraced clan, figuring I could excuse my ignorance by stating I was cold. The event was standing room only, and I had negotiated seats at the bar, which actually gave me a good vantage point for the festivities. Traditionally a grace is given (usually the Selkirk Grace), but at this shindig the food was served without fanfare. The meal started with either a salad or cocky leeky soup. There was no way I was about to turn down a dish with a name like that, so I requested the soup. Cocky leeky (alternately cocka-a-leekie) is a simple soup made with chicken, leeks and rice. The rice was cooked down to a porridge-like consistency, which made it hard to identify, but the soup was flavorful and satisfying.

My second go at haggisMy second go at haggis

For the main course, guests could choose from five options: fish and chips, chicken, bangers and mash, roast supper with Yorkshire pudding or haggis. Being a party in celebration of said haggis, this was my obvious choice, although Claudia selected the fish and chips. She stated that it held up to the standard of what she had in England, but I noticed it was served with whole peas rather than mushy peas (which she preferred since she likened mushy peas to baby food). At a true Burns Supper, the haggis is served as the main course after the address, but since everyone else was eating, I wasn’t complaining. The haggis was served in traditional style, with tatties and neeps (mashed potato and parsnips respectively). It was quite a departure from the store-bought haggis I wrote about in a previous blog article – since haggis still cannot be imported into the United States, Buchanan Arms made their own from sheep offal and cooked it in a synthetic substitute for the lamb stomach. The taste was remarkably different than Macweens – the sheep parts outnumbered the oats, imparting a very strong, earthy flavor with less of the sweetness. Claudia compared her small bite to a cross between ground beef and liver. The strong taste was cut considerably when mixing forkfuls with the potatoes and turnips, but the trio perfectly complemented each other.

After the plates were cleared away, the pomp and circumstance began (actually “Scotland the Brave”) as a bagpiper lead the procession in true form, a massive two foot-long haggis on a silver tray taking up the rear (wow, that sounds wrong). The mini-parade wound its way through the pub to the stage, where the thick-brogued Moira Stewart addressed the haggis to a hushed crowd. In dramatic fashion, she read Burns’ “Address to a Haggis” aloud, slicing the behemoth open on queue like a Scottish Jason Vorhees. The traditional toast of Scotch whiskey followed the address; for the toast I had the barkeep supply me with a wee dram of Glenmoranie Original (which she “guessed” was 12 years old). She initially suggested Crown Royal, but it didn’t have the appropriate ring to it. Dessert (trifle) was brought out; there are an endless variety of ingredients and methods to make it. Buchanan Arms had prepared theirs with Jell-O, blancmange and some sort of crumbly cake, topped with whipped cream and a cherry. It was every bit as sweet as it sounds. The band (The Ploughboys) continued to play Irish and Scottish songs for the remainder of the evening until the revelers began to filter out.

I believe you should accept every opportunity to try a new dish coinciding with a celebration, and a Burns Supper is a good way to do both and participate in age-old tradition at the same time. Just don’t do imitations of Star Trek’s Scotty or you’re likely to end up in the haggis.

Buchanan Arms
2013 W. Burbank Blvd.
Burbank, CA 91506
(818) 845-0692
GPS coordinates: 34°10’49.83″N 118°19’59.96″W

See more images of Val attending a Burns Supper

Val attends a Burns Supper and enjoys haggis after the address:

The Address to the Haggis:

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