It was not a lawless giant who meant to do battle with me. Rather, it was an old-fashioned roadside attraction with gesticulatory arms that beckoned me to stop. For more than half a century, the iconic Dutch Haven windmill has waved at cars and horse-drawn buggies traveling along the Lincoln Highway in Pennsylvania's Dutch Country.
This Lancaster County landmark began as a gas station with an adjoining ice cream stand in the '20s. When Roy and Alice Weaver bought the business in 1946, they opened a restaurant that featured Pennsylvania Dutch fare, and added a gift shop. After Dutch Haven's fortunes had declined, however, Paul Stahl purchased the property in 1991 and began selling Amish furniture, crafts, and kitschy souvenirs. Though he closed the restaurant, he reinstated its most famous item: shoofly pie.
Lois Schrock hands me a slice of shoofly pie
Using Alice Weaver's original recipe of white flour, brown sugar, cinnamon, and refiners' syrup, Stahl purports to produce "America's best shoofly pie." Never having tried the molasses-based confection, I was eager for my first taste. As I made my way to the counter, Lois Schrock, a Dutch Haven fixture, handed me a sample of the gooey goody.
Served slightly warm with a dollop of whipped cream, the pie delivered surprisingly complex flavors that stimulated my tongue. Instead of being cloying, it was agreeably sweet, with a richness that even afforded slight hints of umami. Its viscid filling, offset by a thick crust and a crumb topping, yielded a palate-pleasing plate of textural contrasts. While I normally eschew sugary desserts, I'm happy to have not es-shooed this one.
Pies are available whole or by the slice
It's hard to determine whether Dutch Haven's shoofly pies are truly America's best. Suffice it to say, however, that all others I've tasted thereafter have left me tilting toward the ones beneath the windmill.
Dutch Haven
2857A Lincoln Highway East (U.S. 30) Ronks, PA 17572-9607 (map)
Dinah Shore sings "Shoo-Fly Pie and Apple Pan Dowdy" (1946)
Comestiblab: There are a couple of explanations regarding the origin of the pie's name. One theory maintains that shoofly (also shoo-fly) pie originated in France, where its crumb topping was said to resemble a cauliflower, or chou-fleur (pronounced shoo·FLUR) in French. Supposedly, the word eventually morphed into "shoofly." A more plausible explanation, however, is that the sweet ingredients attracted flies that had to be shooed away.
Comestiblab: Pennsylvania Dutch isn't Dutch at all—it's an alteration of Deutsch, the German word for German. The term refers to descendants of the people who emigrated from southwestern Germany to Pennsylvania during the seventeenth and and eighteenth centuries. It also refers to a German dialect spoken in Amish communities. Thus, it would seem a Dutch windmill is somehow out of place in Pennsylvania Deutsch country.
It seems that whenever I'm determined to like something, I end up being disappointed. Walter's Hot Dog Stand in Mamaroneck is the latest example of a place that, in my opinion, does not live up to its superlative reputation. After a couple of visits, I find myself more bemused than ever by the accolades lavished upon it by such august publications as Gourmet and The New York Times.
My opinions notwithstanding, the lines tell of a success story. Students from Mamaroneck High School across the street, as well as devotees from much farther afield, happily wait on lengthy queues for singles, doubles, and fries. The counter is lined with postcards sent from around the world by loyal customers lamenting the absence of "civilized" food in the exotic locales they find themselves. There is also an impressive array of celebrities—including Bette Davis, Jonathan Winters, Gene Rayburn, Joan Rivers, Jimmy Fallon, and others—who have frequented Walter's over the years. What draws them all here?
Ornamental carp crown Walter's copper roof and lanterns
One's first impression, even before seeing the menu, is of Walter's distinctive architecture: a Chinese-style pagoda. A vestige from the days of roadside attractions, the building was erected in 1928, and was listed on the National Register of Historic Places earlier this year. With its oxidized copper roof, ornamental carp, and hanging lanterns, this dog's casing really stands out. To play up the motif further, the letters on Walter's sign were drawn to resemble Chinese characters, with wieners representing strokes.
Walter's single: a split dog with mustard-relish sauce
But is a pagoda enough to attract consistent crowds? Let's take a closer look inside the bun. Walter's hot dogs are different. They're made from a mixture of beef, pork, and veal using a recipe developed by founder Walter Warrington and a local meat company. (The same patented formula is still used today, albeit now under the manufacture of Boar's Head.) But wait, there's more. The franks are split lengthwise, cooked on a griddle with a "secret" butter-based sauce, and served on a toasted bun. Portion sizes include single ($2.10), double ($4), and diminutive puppy ($1.15) dogs. Toppings are limited to Walter's proprietary mustard-relish blend (whose latter component is scarcely noticeable), plain brown mustard, and ketchup. No sauerkraut!
The tail end of a single
Walter's "split dogs" may sound intriguing, but how good are they? I like a hot dog that is juicy and one that snaps when I bite into it. Splitting it, however, eliminates either possibility. Furthermore, I find an all-beef content to be tastier than Walter's bologna-like meat blend. Frankly, I prefer the taste and consistency of Nathan's frankfurters on Coney Island and, of course, the ones at Verona Park. I don't dislike Walter's hot dogs; I simply don't deem them superior. "They're … pretty good," I tried to reassure one of my Comestaccomplices. "They're not pretty good!" came the reply.
Walter's double: twice the dog in one bun
Established by Walter Warrington in 1919, and now under the ownership of his youthful 88-year-old son Gene, Walter's Hot Dog Stand remains a family business. Peter Fellows, husband of Gene's daughter Jeanne, is the manager. Sadly, for me, this is a case of the tale wagging the dog. It's the sort of place I want to love. I just wish I could.
Time is running out to see Esn! Jews and Food in America at the National Yiddish Book Center on the campus of Hampshire College in Amherst, Massachusetts. Comprising signs, posters, menus, and other items from the collection of Rabbi Michael Strassfeld, this fascinating exhibit runs until 3 October 2010. The items on display represent a feast for those, like me, who remember such Lower East Side stalwarts as Bernstein-on-Essex-Street and Shapiro's Wines. It's all about "esn," the Yiddish word for eating.
Visitors to the exhibit are greeted by the following signage. (The holes in the signs were used to accommodate neon tubes.)
The main exhibit hall contains additional signs as well as advertisements, menus, and other memorabilia—including wine!
While Chinese restaurants have been a favorite among Jews in New York since the late nineteenth century, there wasn't a kosher Chinese eatery in the city until deli-owner Sol Bernstein opened Bernstein-on-Essex-Street in 1959. In addition to Eastern European delicatessen, the menu featured such Cantonese-inspired dishes as Lo Mein Bernstein (with chicken livers among its ingredients) and Sweet & Pungent Spare Ribs. "Schmulka Bernstein's," as it was also known, closed in the mid-1990s.
In an effort to increase their appeal, Levy's showed that an Italian woman—checkered tablecloth and all—could love their rye bread, too.
In addition to opening "old country" restaurants, delis, and bakeries, Eastern European Jewish immigrants set up kosher wineries. Owing to their ready availability on the east coast, Concord grapes (developed in Concord, Massachusetts) were chosen. Though the sweet, syrupy wines produced therefrom may not have tasted much like the ones from Eastern Europe, they became practically obligatory at Passover seders.
Established in 1899 on New York's Lower East Side, Shapiro's quickly became one of the largest kosher wineries in America. Grapes were crushed in a block-long series of cellars below Rivington Street. (I recall taking a brief tour, years ago, with the aid of a flashlight.) The wine was sold at Shapiro's main store at 126 Rivington, and at wine shops around the country. Interestingly, the flagship store was permitted to remain open during Prohibition to allow the sale of "sacramental wine."
Shapiro's sold the building in 2000 and moved its operations to Monticello, New York. Its former site now houses Sugar Sweet Sunshine, a cupcake bakery.
To capture a larger share of Jewish customers, various large food corporations advertised by publishing recipe books, often together with Passover Haggadoth.
Mogen David produced a booklet providing tips for cooking with their wine. Inexplicably, it offers hints for basting pork, as well as recipes for Apple and Spareribs and Baked Ham Slices in Cream.
Maxwell House launched one of the most successful campaigns of that sort in 1933: customers were given one Haggadah with the purchase of two pounds of coffee. Their promotional kit directed grocers to "watch Jewish customers come in for the deal."
National Yiddish Book Center Kaplen Family Building
1021 West Street (on the campus of Hampshire College) Amherst, MA 01002-3375 (map)
The dining room is a vestige of late-nineteenth century splendor. Tall arched mirrors with cherry frames adorn its Lincrusta-covered walls. Intricate chandeliers, with dual fixtures for gas and electricity, emit a pleasing glow over the hundred-foot-long space. Above it all, a vaulted ceiling rounds out the overall appearance of a posh Pullman dining car from the Gilded Age. This Downtown Brooklyn landmark has ushered in two new centuries and has served the likes of Diamond Jim Brady, Lillian Russell, Mae West, Fanny Brice, Jimmy Durante, and your humble Comestiblogger along the way. Though the legendary Gage and Tollner has faded into history, its classic appointments, mirabile dictu, have been preserved.
Gage and Tollner's historic main dining room
The story begins in the City of Brooklyn, four years before the completion of the Great Bridge. In 1879, Charles M. Gage opened an oyster and chop "eating house" at 302 Fulton Street. A year later, he was joined by Eugene Tollner. In 1892, Gage and Tollner's restaurant moved into a nearby four-story Italianate row house at 372-374 Fulton Street, where it remained until closing in 2004.
Dominated by seafood and steaks, the menu included such favorites as Crabmeat Dewey, Lobster Thermidor, Scallops Baltimore, and Soft Clams Chicago. In the late 1980s, owner Peter Aschkenasy made an unprecedented change by hiring renowned chef Edna Lewis to give the old Brooklyn stalwart a Southern accent. (Miss Lewis was one of the founders of the highly acclaimed Café Nicholson on Manhattan's East Side.) The native Virginian's influences were evident in her down-home cookin' that included cornbread, catfish, and her famed Charleston-style she-crab soup. In 1992, after five years as Gage and Tollner's executive chef, Miss Lewis retired.
In 1995, following a bank foreclosure, the restaurant shut down temporarily. That year, Joseph Chirico purchased Gage and Tollner and became its final owner. After an ambitious restoration, Brooklyn's most elegant eatery reopened in 1996. Gay Nineties swank, however, was inconsistent with the changes that had taken place along Fulton Street. Owing to "dragging" business, Mr. Chirico shuttered the venerable establishment six years ago on Valentine's Day.
Following the demise of G&T, T.G.I. Friday's took over the space and closed after only three years. Prospects for the future were uncertain. Could this address ever serve as a restaurant again? The answer came nearly three years after Friday's departure, when a hat-wearing roast beef sandwich gave the old place a new lease on life. On Thursday, 21 January 2010, Gage and Tollner's landmark doors were reopened as Arby's. Yes, Arby's.
Takeout: Arby's Express at the old mahogany and marble bar
It's clear that times have changed. Roast beef sandwiches and melts have replaced prime rib, lobster, and crab. Meat is no longer presented before being cooked. Counter clerks wearing bright-red Arby's T-shirts have taken the place of uniformed waiters sporting service emblems (a gold eagle represented 25 years; a gold star, five years; and a gold bar, one year). Modern utilitarian furniture has displaced turn-of-the-century mahogany tables and bentwood chairs, and, of course, paper napkins now serve in place of white linens.
Despite the foregoing changes, the landmark interior has managed to retain some of its earlier dignity. This is undoubtedly the most impressive restaurant in the Arby's chain. Though he won't discuss how much it cost to refurbish the dining room, franchisee Raymond Chera says he spent six months to reverse years of neglect. He is encouraged by all the positive response to his new fast-food venture, calling the early enthusiasm "heartwarming." If it takes roast beef sandwiches and toasted subs to preserve this space, even heartburn can be heartwarming.
Arby's
372 Fulton Street (between Jay St & Red Hook Ln), Downtown Brooklyn
Not so many restaurants can boast of a history as long as that of Pals Cabin in West Orange, New Jersey. This "heritage of hospitality" began as a summertime venture by two friends during the Great Depression. Martin L. Horn and Bion LeRoy Sale obtained permission to squat on a bank-foreclosed property at the busy intersection of Prospect and Eagle Rock Avenues. On 18 May 1932, "Marty" and "Roy," as they were known, began selling 10-cent hot dogs from a 10-by-12-foot stand they had constructed. "It was better than selling apples on a street corner," Martin Horn was wont to say.
Following their initial success, the pals enclosed the hot dog stand as the first of many expansions to their cabin. Within three years, Pals Special, a highly popular 50-cent charcoal-broiled steak, was added to the menu. By 1936, Pals Cabin had become a full-service restaurant, and the price of its signature steak had risen to 75 cents. Numerous additions over the years have resulted in the current space—a vast edifice that reveals little of the restaurant's humble beginnings.
Pals offers several areas in which to dine and unwind, including the Tap Room, the formal Winchester Room, the counter, and The Cabin. With its high ceiling, exposed beams, stone walls, and capacious wooden booths, The Cabin is the restaurant's core and mainstay. Were its scale not quite so grand, one might consider it cozy. But let's just call it very comfortable.
The Cabin
Occupying a category between family and formal, this was the sort of place at which I seldom dined as a young child. Any gustatory recollections of Pals Cabin derive from my so-called adulthood. My earliest impressions were based more on fantasy and speculation than on direct experience. I remember it as a prominent landmark that stood across Eagle Rock Avenue from the now-defunct Korvette City, a large shopping center that my family frequented. In certain respects, however, Pals does evoke childhood memories of dining out. The service, in particular, is reminiscent of my early years. It is extremely gracious without being affected or overly formal. There appears to be none of the trite, artificial familiarity that has become so inexplicably fashionable these days. Instead, the demeanor of the staff is warmly polite, yet conservatively respectful. It comes as a refreshing change not to be addressed as, "you guys." Perhaps it is this old-fashioned deportment that most reminds me of dinners out as a child.
Pals Famous Cream of Mushroom Soup
Among the 15 starters on the menu, one is a must: Pals' velvety, justly famous, Cream of Mushroom Soup ($5.50). Its rich velouté of roux and chicken stock, combined with an abundance of chopped, sautéed mushrooms and finely chopped shallots, is irresistible. I order it without fail. Many soups of this sort emphasize cream at the expense of a deep mushroom flavor in the broth. Pals', however, offers both the cream and the rich, earthy flavor I seek. It's easy to understand why this award-winning soup continues to be a customer favorite after more than seven decades.
Included with my main course was Pals' double salad, a somewhat ordinary bowl of tossed greens with croutons. The homemade bleu cheese dressing continues to be the best option.
Hungarian Goulash
My Comestaccomplice and I both ordered the Hungarian Goulash over egg noodles ($19.95) as our main dish. The recipe of is said to have been "handed down from generations of the Horn family." To be honest, it could have been stewed—but even more critically, allowed to marinate—significantly longer. Although the flavors were very fresh, the cabernet-infused sauce was noticeably under-salted. Furthermore, the cuts of beef were slightly tough and not optimally integrated with the sauce. The goulash should have been prepared at least a day in advance, and cooked till the meat opened up to allow the sauce to tenderize each chunk. Tenderization occurs only when the meat is permitted to rest awhile; the longer it sits, the more flavor permeates each grain. The portion, incidentally, was so large that my Comestaccomplice took home most of hers. The leftover goulash lasted her three days, a period during which it developed an increasingly deep and rich flavor. By the third day, it was a remarkably good goulash!
After dinner, we took a stroll down memory lane. In the lower entryway, and scattered elsewhere in the restaurant, the walls are adorned with photographs, menus, and other mementos from Pals' early days. Among the memorabilia is a bill, from the 1940s, promoting a "sensational young pianist" named Walter Liberace who played the baby grand here for his supper and $50 a week.
Please click on an image above to view an early Pals menu.
The steaks are higher nowadays, as are the hot dogs. Today, Pals Famous New York strip steak costs $30.95 for an 18-ounce serving; 25.95 for a 14-ounce cut. A foot-long frankfurter now sells for $7.95. Though times have clearly changed since the two pals sold hot dogs from their small cabin, this venerable eating establishment continues to draw diners from near and far. With Martin Horn's grandchildren currently at the helm, Pals Cabin is in its third generation and eighth decade of family ownership. Who would have imagined that a summer venture would have produced such a legacy?
Pals Cabin
265 Prospect Avenue (SW corner Eagle Rock Av) West Orange, N.J. 07052-4205 (map)
During my early years in West Orange, New Jersey, our family often ate at some of the area's various beaneries. They weren't all that good or bad, they were simply all I knew. Most of the old places have long since closed or disappeared altogether. It was most saddening, for instance, to discover the Claremont Diner and the White Castle in Verona had made way for an automotive dealership. There is, however, an extant relic from my childhood at Tory Corner, just a few blocks up Main Street from Thomas Edison National Historical Park. The West Orange Pancake House and Diner, mirabile dictu, continues to serve decent victuals, and now does so round-the-clock, seven days a week.
I knew this 1950s-era stainless steel edifice as the Tory Corner Diner, the initials of which remain inlaid on the floor of its vestibule. Aside from the name and a few cosmetic updates, little else appears to have changed over the years. Looking at this place evokes childhood memories of black-and-white television sets, named telephone exchanges (ours was REdwood), drugstores with soda fountains, and life before the Essex Freeway (I-280). After a warm, enthusiastic welcome from owner Paul Mihalitsianos and his son, Gerry, what could be finer than eating in this diner again after so many years?
While it seems that diners typically offer extensive menus, this one's is so vast as to make it difficult to make a selection. Its 15 pages offer everything from appetizers to "fantastic finishes." Though several items entreated, I felt as though I'd discover something even more appealing the moment I placed my order.
West Orange Special
Listed under Sandwiches Paul's Way, my West Orange Special ($11.95)—sliced London broil on garlic bread with lettuce and tomato—was a standout. The broiled meat was seasoned with a heavy hand, which, under most circumstances could have ruined it. But the cook understood the fat content and age of the cut with masterly precision. As a result, the spices were on target for maximizing this steak’s succulence and flavor. I’ve been served beef in very fine restaurants that was analyzed and prepared with far less skill than it was here. The accompanying thickly cut onion rings were quite all right, but the reconstituted french fried potatoes failed to measure up to the taste and quality of their plate partners.
Harold's New York-style Deli Sandwich
Harold's New York-style corned beef sandwich ($12.95), my Comestaccomplice's selection, was advertised as the best available. (Namesake Harold Jaffe once operated the aforementioned Claremont Diner as well as New York's Carnegie Deli.) Extremely lean and flavorful, the corned beef was piled high between two slices of rye bread and served on a platter that was as almost as big as the menu itself. While it was very tasty indeed, the corned beef was also somewhat dry—perhaps owing to its leanness. Fortunately, the accompanying coleslaw and half-sours, both excellent, added welcome moisture between meaty mouthfuls. The garlic bread was yet another very tasty side.
Comfort food somehow seems even more comforting when consumed in a familiar environment. Though I don't return to West Orange often, it's reassuring to know I can still revisit a "living" childhood memory here.
West Orange Pancake House and Diner
270 Main Street (between Prospect Pl & Kling St) West Orange, N.J. 07052-5617 (map)
Special thanks to Michelle Colombaris Berger for sharing the following memories from the days her family owned the Tory Corner Diner: (Please click on any image to enlarge it.)
"My dad used to tell a story about a family trip we made to Canada in the 60's. When we got there and checked into the motel there was a book of matches from our diner sitting in the ashtray in the motel room!!!!"
"The two men are my dad, Nicholas Colombaris and an unknown. The pic is dated May 1962, the year that West Orange celebrated its centennial. There was a parade and many men grew beards and marched as the Brothers of the Bush (or Brush)."
"Nicholas Colombaris, my dad, sitting in his favorite booth. This was right inside the front door on the Main Street side of the building."
It could take an out-of-towner two passes down New Haven's Crown Street to find the improbably situated Louis' Lunch: smack in the middle of a parking lot, rather than among the restaurant cohort lining the opposite side of the street. The ancient, gnome-scaled brick edifice's location is, however, a testament to the burger joint's devoted following. City redevelopment plans had called for razing this diminutive landmark (a former tannery) to make way for a high-rise building. But in 1975, following years of wrangling between the owner and the city, public outcry saved the venerable luncheonette at the last moment. Dodging the wrecking ball by a matter of hours, the home of the hamburger was deracinated from its foundation at 202 George Street and moved to its present location—its fourth—about a block away.
It would be difficult to find a story more steeped in tradition than that of the Lassen family and the birth of the hamburger as we know it. The legend begins in 1895 with a lunch wagon on Meadow Street—near Union Station—from which Louis Lassen served steak sandwiches to factory workers. Not wanting to waste the trimmings, he ground and broiled the leftover meat. Initially, he served it as a patty, on a platter, together with a slice of onion and home fries. One day, however, a customer rushed in and requested a fast meal to go. Lassen responded by sandwiching one of his broiled patties between two slices of white bread, and with that, according to local lore, served the first hamburger. While this may be an interesting origins story, there must be another reason that Louis' Lunch, now in its fourth generation of family operation, is still in business after more than a century.
Indeed. Why didn't the denizens of the Elm City allow this family-run establishment to go the way of so many others during urban renewal? The answer is found between those two thin slices of white toast: a generous, top-quality ground beef patty, cooked in much the same way it was over a hundred years ago. Add onion and tomato ("the works"), cheese spread, or any combination thereof, if you must. But ultimately, it's all about the beef. Louis' Lunch takes this premise to an extreme by offering no other accompaniments or condiments (with the exception of salt and pepper packets, upon request). Please don't even think of asking for ketchup. The Lassens believe that such additions are unnecessary, and serve only to cover up mistakes. The enduring ban on condiments also honors the legacy of the founder. The point is, if they are going through the trouble of cutting and grinding their own fresh meat daily, you should taste the beef! (To those unfamiliar with Louis' credo, various signage offers a guide to their dogmatic service protocol.)
Returning to how deeply in tradition the food is steeped, Jeff Lassen rightly points out that his hamburgers owe part of their flavor to the original 1898 apparatus in which they're cooked. The gas-powered stoves from Bridge, Beach & Company afford a healthful side benefit, so to speak, by broiling the patties vertically to reduce excess grease. Over the years, the grills initiated by Jeff's great grandfather have been seasoned with the essence of burgers prepared for Charles Lindbergh, Artie Shaw, Bing Crosby, Rudy Vallee, and countless others. That's a quality for which there is no shortcut; it can only be earned with time.
The toaster tells a similar tale, nearly as old: it has been preparing the "bun"—two slices of Pepperidge Farm white bread—since 1929. As we waited for our burgers, we watched these antiques in action, marveling at how they continue to operate flawlessly after all these years—a testament to superior workmanship and caring ownership.
The verdict: the hamburger is good, honest food. Its flavor is fresh, clean, and lean. With onion and tomato options, Louis was astute in serving his mission—the additions complement the beef without masking anything. We found that a touch of salt was necessary to bring out all the succulence this fine burger has to offer. In an age of industrial fast food, this is (reasonably) fast food that tastes like real food. Simple, satisfying.
For the lunch crowd, the menu consists of exactly two choices: a hamburger or cheeseburger for $5. On Thursday, Friday, and Saturday evenings, however, the menu often expands to include a hot dog and a steak sandwich.
If the bread is not enough, you can augment your carbs with potato salad, a wide selection of good-quality chips, and one or two homemade pie offerings. In addition, Louis' Lunch offers an impressive assortment of soft drinks, many of which are local and off-beat. But you will never, ever, enjoy a Coke here, because, as Jeff says, "we can carry a grudge." Jeff's grandfather Ervin Lassen (Louis' son) severed relations with Coca Cola during the Great Depression. Purportedly, an unscrupulous distributor decided that Louis' share of the soft drink could fetch a higher price on the black market. The Pepsi salesman, on the other hand, was eager to deal legitimately—his product was welcomed in and remains on the menu some 70 years later.
Nostalgia is one thing, but Louis' Lunch is sensitive to the current climate as well. Mindful of the economy, Jeff has held his prices down since 2006. Within the past year, he's even enlarged the burger by nearly an ounce as a way of giving his customers a little extra during tough times. (Though he doesn't specifically measure the patties, Jeff approximates the weight of each to be about six ounces.)
Fourth generation: Jeff Lassen, C.S.K. ("Crown Street King")
Decent people, decent food. That's a recipe worth saving.
Louis' Lunch
261-263 Crown Street (between College & High Sts) New Haven, CT 06511-6611 (map)
There's nothing like a stroll through the French Quarter to help burn a few breakfast calories. As we wend our way through the charming streets, we pause at various landmarks, museums, and shops. After a visit to the French Market, it's time for lunch.
Would having a sandwich be too banal in this epicurean city? Yes, if it were an ordinary ham-and-cheese or something of that sort. But I have an extraordinary kind in mind—a Muffuletta (pronounced "moo·fuh·LET·ah," often abbreviated, simply, to "muff"). It's made with a fresh, round loaf of Italian bread, onto which generous quantities of imported salami, ham, cheese, mortadella, and special olive salad are layered, and served at room temperature. (Don't even think of asking to have it warmed!) This is one big, tasty sandwich that easily feeds two people. Half a sandwich at midday is ample—especially if one is still planning to have dinner.
As we cross Decatur Street and enter Central Grocery, we take a step backward through time. The old-fashioned Italian-American emporium that proclaims itself to be the "home of the original Muffuletta" gives the impression of having forgone any sort of redecoration since its founding in 1906. Apparently, there's no need to change—this place draws visitors from all corners of the globe. No trip to New Orleans is complete without a stop here. The Muffuletta's putative place of origin is also where the sandwich reaches its acme of perfection. Purportedly, it was created here by Salvatore Lupo the same year he founded the grocery. Though time seems to have stood still at Central Grocery, its most famous product remains a timeless classic.
Central Grocery Co.
923 Decatur Street (between N. Peters & St. Philip Sts) New Orleans, LA 70116-3307 (map)
Breakfast at Brennan's is something everyone should try at least once. Situated in the French Quarter, this lovely dining spot has been a Crescent City phenomenon since 1946. Owen Edward Brennan's elegant culinary namesake evokes images of New Orleans French aristocrats sipping wine and enjoying leisurely breakfasts on the patio nestled among exotic plants and redolent magnolia blossoms, cooled by Palmetto fans.
Eggs Sardou (foreground) and Eggs Hussarde
We began our aristocratic breakfast with an "eye opener" called Fleur de Lis—Champagne with Grand Marnier and Lillet Blanc. (One might think of it as orange juice with a kick.) With appetites whetted, we were ready for our main course. My Comestaccomplice ordered the Eggs Sardou (poached eggs on artichoke bottoms in a bed of creamed spinach and covered with Hollandaise sauce) while I chose the signature Eggs Hussarde (poached eggs atop Holland rusks, Canadian Bacon, and Marchand de Vin sauce, topped with Hollandaise sauce). Ahhh … If only all eggs were this good!
To finish on a sweet note, we ordered two Brennan's originals: the Crêpes Fitzgerald (crêpes filled with cream cheese and sour cream, topped with strawberries flambéed with marischino liqueur) and the signature Bananas Foster (bananas sautéed in butter, brown sugar, cinnamon, and banana liqueur, flambéed in rum, and served over vanilla ice cream).
What a delicious way to start the day!
Brennan's
417 Royal Street (between Conti & St. Louis Sts) New Orleans, LA 70130-2103 (map)
Ayuh, Comestiblog heads Down East to sample some of Maine's attractions. The first thing to greet us upon crossing the Piscataqua River from New Hampshire into Maine on U.S. 1 is the sign for Warren's Lobster House in Kittery. Founded by Warren "Pete" Wurm in 1940 (when the price of lobster was 25¢ a pound), this waterside eatery has evolved from a six-stool, walk-up clam-and-lobster stand into a 350-seat restaurant—replete with its own lobster pound and full-service bakery—serving seafood as well as landlubber fare. In addition, Warren's has a 200-foot boat dock for those arriving by water.
The New England clam chowder, salad bar, "wicked good lobstah," and fresh fish we enjoyed during our first visit last winter occasioned our return this August. Since I'm not a crustacean aficionado and because my dining companion wanted to try something different, neither of us ordered lobster this time. Besides, we were headed further up the coast deeper into lobster mecca.
Unfortunately, our hostess was somewhat abrupt and curt. (When will restaurants learn to put friendly people on the front line?) Once we were seated, however, things improved slightly. We started with a couple of trips to the soup and salad bars. Warren's purports to have "the seacoast's finest salad bar." With more than 50 fresh items from which to choose—including such Yankee staples as pickled Brussels sprouts, mustard pickles, and baked beans—this alone could constitute a meal. Among the many mayonnaise-based salad options, the coleslaw was particularly good.
My Comestaccomplice ordered the mussels, which came with a lemony wine broth containing lots of garlic, while I chose the naked salmon, broiled with just a "touch of oil and spice." The mussels were extremely fresh and tasty, though the broth was thin and underseasoned. The abundance of garlic, however, rescued the dish. The naked fish, on the other hand, was overcooked and would have benefited from a little dressing up. To make matters worse, my vegetables, whose flavors had been thoroughly annihilated during the cooking process, arrived long after I had finished my main course. They were certainly not worth the wait … or anything else, for that matter.
Overall, this experience was mixed. Though my friend's meal was rather good, mine was mediocre. The unfriendly receptionist's deportment earned Warren's a demerit and resulted in a less satisfactory visit than our first one.
Despite the bribe to visit the gift shop (a key, presented with the check, that may unlock a treasure chest prize), the kitschy and overpriced tourist trap is best avoided. Far more rewarding is a leisurely perusal of the entry to Warren's dining area. It features an interesting montage of early menus and other restaurant memorabilia.
Warren's Lobster House
11 Water Street-U.S. 1 Kittery, ME 03904-1629 (map)
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