Postcards from an Unfortunate Lunch

I prefer being involved in my lunch a little. Implicated to a point that extends beyond the currency in my palm. That means abstaining from meals on campus because they're all based on refined carbs and mystery condiments. Since I didn't prep a few days worth of tempeh hoagies to get me by, I found myself wandering the Temple cafeteria in the Student Activity Center, a place I've been to all of 5 times. It's where tastebuds go to be removed.

No, I don't want the crepe truck. I've been a student here for the past 3 years. I've had enough.

But American Dog? Must be new, because it wasn't here the last desperate time I dropped by.

Chicago dogs? Texas Tommy's? Tater tots? An Atlanta dog with mac & cheese? Oh yes, veggie dog. I can do you.

I seized a Berkeley, clad in onion, cucumber, tomato, and jalapenos, for $3.69. I passed on tots. I'm a fifth year senior. My self-restraint is well established. Lunch is not the highlight of my day. Dinner is.

Would I go American again? No. Not when I know what comes out of the LOTV kitchen is a million times better/cheaper/healthier and doesn't make me feel dirty. Sleaze is all good if it arrives in proximity to tempeh.

Is This Thing On?

The batteries on my tape recorder died ten minutes before Mark Bittman, NY Times columnist, Bitten blogger, and best-selling author of How to Cook Everything Vegetarian and the just-out must-read Food Matters: A Guide to Conscious Eating, called for our scheduled interview last week. One would think I'd have this shit down by now and keep back-up rechargeable Energizers built into my left forearm.

Luckily there's a CVS within spitting distance of my bedroom.

Check out how it went down: Matters of Course

Vegan Drinks Philly @ Horizons

Good Food, Not So Fast

Pecan waffle & covered hash
Last year's leftover goal had trickled into 2009 like slowly oozing maple sap: Drive to the nearest Waffle House, try to spend at least 10 dollars, and purchase 3 tubs of Cool Whip from Wal-Mart on the way home. I'd never done this before.

There is no greater road trip icon than the Waffle House, the 24-hour diners that dot our land aand light up our highways. It had been awhile, a long while of IHOPs and poorly-ironed imitations that had left me cold. I dressed as a waffle for Halloween one year. I deserved better.

I typed in my zip code and pondered my choices: a 48-mile drive to Bethlehem, PA, or a 49-mile trek to Elkton, MD. Not so crazy. We rented a car and set off.

Is 3 hours of round-trip travel time (over an hour each way) the penance for waffle absolution?

Waffle Houses are exact copies of one another, tiny, intimate stops where prices, fashion, and time stand still. Our food was brought to the table immediately, out triggered the syrup, in went sodden forkfuls of what was just as good as we'd remembered. If slightly better, because of the culinary miles logged, and the "You went where? For waffles?" reactions.

*Vegan Treats is about 10 minutes away from here, but we gave up looking for it because Linden St. was so terribly misleading. We did eventually find a Wal-Mart, but it was not as easy as previously assumed.

Lunch is Coming and We Can't Stop It

The midday meal is monotonous when you find yourself opting for the nearest trusted retreats. Instead of calling a soy latte a meal (although it's an excellent protein-rich snack), look over here for a second.

• If you're up North, truck it to Paesano's, the sandwich shop from Modo Mio, for the chickpea pancake sammie. Oh, I said sammie. It burns calories to say words that you loathe. $4 and you can touch it. Paesanos, 152 W. Girard Ave.
  

• Word on La Citadelle is hush, but the coffeehouse at 16th and Pine is lowkey, liquid is extra strong, and the tomato, basil, and mozz with artichoke, as pedestrian as it sounds, is a panini I go back for. It's considerably less American than those other TBMs you're snackin' on. You've got a five, a wrinkly one, some change, right?

• I also hear that Starboard Side Tavern, the Fishtown neighborbar that we used to get pizza from in our Payless canvas shoes (I had every color, thanks Dad) has a fresh menu that boasts black bean veggie sliders and a veg wrap. As long as there's still pizza. Open for lunch Thu.-Sun., 2500 E Norris St.

• If you're in deep CC, take notice of the Argan Moroccan press going around and consider it. There are veggies all over that place, like we talked about.
  

In Defense of Cheese

I've stopped running around with cheesemongers.

It's too much for my weary heart.

They always smoke, anyway.

And they never, ever buy me cheese knives from Manor Home for Xmas.

Plus they scoff when I invest in cheese from Trader Joe's. Even if it's a Spanish quad or an English-style cheddar with pumpkin and sunflower seeds.

Veg Out: Local 44

I feel something tender towards the Memphis Taproom, but time and proximity, and the glut of bars between us keeps me away.

I think the same thing will happen for me and Local 44, the Memphis Tap team's Other Bar. The 42 bus ride that connects us is a few miles too much. I will gladly consider the new West Philly drinkery for a post-Distrito moment, perhaps an Abyssinia breath mint. When I end up at the Bridge cinema and find the overpriced diet Coke unsatisfactory, I'll pop my head in to the 44 and get wise. If I was a local, I'd be pretty happy with what I found the other night at 44th and Spruce.


There are better eats to be found this side of town, but the food here is blatantly secondary to the brews. It isn't meant to be groundbreaking, and all I wanted to do was run my mouth with two of my best boys and check the Flyers score on the telly behind the bar every few minutes anyway. I wasn't there for a dining experience.

I only settled on a veggie burger because my other two-thirds were taking care of the vegetarian frito pie and the oyster mushroom po'boy, the selections that sang out to me. The double-stacked burger was nothing to rave about, which makes it a suitable beer & game session choice. I recommend the po'boy if you want something you've never had before. It's a handy invention of fried shrooms and vegan sauce on a beast of a roll. Both sandwiches were quite filling, generous portions. The frito pie, spooned into a coffee cup, was a kicking vegan chili that I'd prefer if it came in a wider mug or a mini crock to make it appear more casserole-like. One would mistake it for a cup of chili until they dug into bottom chip territory. In the Dogfish Head Raison D'Etre and its 8% ABV however, I found no faults, only desires to stay west for a bit longer.

Local 44, 44th & Spruce

Flax Club Dinner Party

Why not mix two of your favored cuisines because you can't decide on a dinner party theme? To vote either way would be far too cautious and uninspired.

Enchiladas are wonderful, but add eggplant and feta, some cheddar and monterey jack, and anything could happen. Hummus is easy for the lazy, but plop that delicious shit in a flax tortilla with some more eggplant, feta, black beans, and freshly made salsa, and you're solid. Guac topped with....feta. Flax chips. A simple side salad to balance it all out. Make Ouzo and tequila work together in a cocktail. It's a Medi-Mexi-Flaxxy feast.



Eggplant enchiladas. We followed this recipe, including the fun-to-make enchilada sauce

Foolish Pie

For dessert, our original plan was to whip up a spicy Mexican chocolate sauce and coat a ramekin with it, topped with fig & goat's milk ice cream. But our sights were diverted by another pie experiment: a fat-free meringue crust (not vegan) with a chocolate tofu filling. This is easily vegan with a different crust. It doesn't taste like tofu at all. One guest likened it to chocolate pudding, while another gave it the ultimate compliment of "I'd stick my balls in that." Here is what our party of five decided.

Veg Out: Butcher & Singer

Since Butcher & Singer appeared, or at least when the blog winds first carried whispers of it, I conceived plans to dig into a salad and potatoes at Starr's house of steak.

When I finally got around to it, day after Christmas, when you can still polish off anything you want without feeling like a hard criminal, I found my way through the doors of what was "not as nice as Striped Bass", according to a companion. I swiped eye over the cow-covered menu with little worry, already knowing the green and potato-colored choices that I'd make.

It was a late lunch and we were one of two tables. I took down a gimlet, which I distinctly remember not finishing, because it wasn't spectacular and I had already moved onto wine.

I began with a Butcher salad without the Sopressata, which was large enough to split with the Sexy Person next to me. Artichokes in salad is an easy win with me and I would walk this green line again, if the rest of the meal was a little better. It didn't warrant the cost at all. Even if the Butcher fries were nice, they were still just fried potatoes. The creamed spinach was soupy and bland. Mashed potatoes were too creamy, like Mom's overly whipped spuds. While I was pleased that the chef prepared a vegetable plate for me, with meaty grilled mushrooms and a tomato salad, it was something I would construct at home.

The baked alaska sounded more exciting than it was, and ended up being much smaller than my food memory recalled. A slab of carrot cake took on mammoth girth, but lacked the raisins and spiciness that a gateau of carrot must carry. I cleaned the icing and left the rest behind.

Why did I eat here? Whimsy. My sick, questionable humor. The situation of being with multiple lovers of food who enjoy unproven dining ventures.

I didn't expect to like it, so the fact that I headed out full and warm with life, if not my meal, was reason enough to experiment.

Butcher & Singer, 15th & Walnut/Avenue of you already know where this is

In the Kitchen w/ Kelly: Liar's Pie

This pie is so exquisite that I could never share the recipe with you. The man who created it will die with the precise calibrations coating his brain.

I will, however, gladly trade you the pie for whatever goods, services, and expert advise that you offer.

Hear now of the particulars:

This beastly offering contains no beast, but instead packs a wallop with Ray's seitan and a perfectly greasy bbq potato chip crust. It calms a large quantity of the unfed with its multi-layered slices, its shepherd pie-like appeal, and its meal-in-one convenience. It pairs quite nicely with Miller High Life. Slice 2 is often better than Slice 1, and there is no such thing as Slice 3. It is best to space these second slicings with pretending to watch an Eagles game.

Should you wait in extreme patience, this pie will one day appear on the menu of a real place.