By Kevin Finch on July 19, 2009
My new favorite taco truck in Spokane is adding a measure of authenticity in its daily special sheet.
I didn’t order the “Shrip Speasal” but took the spelling as a potentially positive indicator that English was a second language for whoever made the sign (and hopefully would soon be cooking my food). It turns out that Patty’s Tacos is turning out wonderful and quite authentic Mexican street food despite the decidedly Anglo name and the dictionary difficulties noted above.
For the record, there are actually two different Pattys in the family that owns the truck: cousin Patty Pineda and sister-in-law Patty Ramirez. Pineda was at the grill the day I stopped by and her Alambre taco ($1.25) approached the category of life-changing. Think mini fajita with steak, grilled peppers and onions, and melted mozzarella on top. Normally I would scorn a taco that didn’t come topped in more traditional Mexican cheese, but before you do the same, try Patty’s Alambre. It was stunningly good. The pork Adobada taco was also wonderful.
For those of you within driving distance of Spokane, put Patty’s Taco Truck on the top of your list. The truck is open 10 am to 8 pm every day on North Division between Garland and Walton.
Posted in dining, play | Tagged adobada, alambre, burrito, Division Street restaurants, Jonas Lopez, Mexican, Mexican street food, Patty Pinedo, Patty Ramirez, Patty's Taco Truck, Patty's Tacos, restaurants, shrimp cocktail, sopes, Spokane restaurants, taco, taco truck, taco trucks, torta |
By Kevin Finch on June 27, 2009
A new category for periodic posts has surfaced recently that offers real potential alongside our Fortune Cookie Files and Food Service Typos. This category is Food Kitsch.
Kitsch is a classic German/Yiddish word that typically refers to art that is “excessively garish or sentimental… usually considered in bad taste” according to WordNet. Other definitions toss in adjectives like vulgar, trite, melodramatic, lowbrow, and tasteless. Some of what is clearly kitsch is simply offensive, but there are also examples of kitsch that are curious, over-the-top, and even wonderful in an odd or disturbed way.
Kitsch shows up everywhere, but one place with a particular affinity for kitsch is the kitchen. We consider this a true delight, and from time to time we’d love to pass along a few examples.
Today, that is a product about to hit the market called Season Shot.
What is it? It is food-grade ammunition for your shotgun.
I can’t say it better than the Season Shot website itself: “Season Shot is made of tightly packed seasoning bound by a fully biodegradable food product. The seasoning is actually injected into the bird on impact seasoning the meat from the inside out. When the bird is cooked the seasoning pellets melt into the meat spreading the flavor to the entire bird. Forget worrying about shot breaking your teeth and start wondering about which flavor shot to use!”
One of their slogans is: SHOOTS, KILLS, SEASONS.
Season Shot also celebrates the fact that their shot brings down your bird without any damage to the environment, and will be available in five delicious flavors: Cajun, Lemon Pepper, Garlic, Teriyaki, and Honey Mustard.
The target market? (chuckle) Men equally happy with large fire arms and oven mitts.
FOOD KITSCH METER: 7.5
excessively garish or sentimental art; usually considered in bad taste
1. Sentimentality or vulgar, often pretentious bad taste, especially in the arts: “When money tries to buy beauty it tends to purchase a kind of courteous kitsch” (William H. Gass).
2. An example or examples of kitsch.
adj.
Of, being, or characterized by kitsch: “The kitsch kitchen … has aqua-and-white gingham curtains and rubber duck-yellow walls painted in a fried-egg motif” (Suzanne Cassidy).
Kitsch (/kɪtʃ/) is the German and Yiddish word denoting art that is considered an inferior, tasteless copy of an extant style of art. kKtsch was a response to the 19th century art whose aesthetics convey exaggerated sentimentality and melodrama, hence, kitsch art is closely associated with sentimental art. Kitsch also refers to the types of art that are like-wise æsthetically deficient (whether or not it is sentimental, glamorous, theatrical, or creative), making it a creative gesture that merely imitates the superficial appearances of art through repeated conventions and formulae. Contemporaneously, kitsch also (loosely) denotes art that is aesthetically pretentious to the degree of being in poor taste and industrially-produced art-items that are considered trite and crass.
1 : something that appeals to popular or lowbrow taste and is often of poor quality
Posted in culture, kitsch, play | Tagged bird hunting, cajun, fun, garlic, honey mustard, hunting, kitsch, kitsch definition, lemon pepper, men cooking, new products, Season Shot, seasoned pellets, shotgun, shotgun shells, teriyaki, Yiddish |
By Kevin Finch on June 24, 2009
For those of you who don’t know, Fry’s Electronics is a Bay Area phenomenon that took the idea of an electronics store with a few snack food items and turned it into a retail technology juggernaut that retains just enough geek to be credible to everyone else.
Each trip we make to the Bay Area to visit family includes a pilgrimage to Fry’s on Hamilton in Campbell. This particular Fry’s store was designed on the outside to look vaguely like an Egyptian pyramid and decorated inside to resemble King Tut’s tomb.
My standard operating procedure on each pilgrimage includes at least some time in the PC role playing games section debating whether to buy a new game guaranteed to turn me into an obsessed computer addict for several weeks. This trip I opted not to spend 29.95 and check out of the family for the first half of July.
But I did find something I couldn’t resist buying.
This would be Fry’s brand of bottled water. Apparently gamers and geeks are not all slugging down Mountain Dew any more and Fry’s is angling to capture the H2O crowd standing in line waiting to pay for their 109 inch LCD and Hyper-Pentium Liquid-Cooled Tower.
Now I rarely buy water in bottles both because I am happy with free water, and I hate the environmental impact of carting water in bottles all around our country (not to mentioned from exotic islands in the Pacific), but I broke my principle for one bottle from Fry’s. While I have yet to figure out what the monkey has to do with technology, I think these bottles just may end up as a collector’s item.
Posted in cooking, culture, play, travel | Tagged Bay Area, bottled water, Campbell CA, electronics, Fry's, Fry's Electronics, geek, King Tut, pyramid, water |
By Kevin Finch on June 16, 2009
New England Trip #7
Boston is the site of the Freedom Trail and Fenway Park, the Big Dig and… a real contender for the best hot dog in the country.
The dog in question comes from a tiny white trailer in an industrial triangle in south Boston called Newmarket Square. Apparently the rules of geometry can be suspended in New England geography because there are only three sides to this particular “square.” Around the perimeter of the triangle called a square are warehouses devoted almost exclusively to food: Lun Fat Produce, Mutual Beef, J. Carter Veal, Boston Brisket Company Inc, the Chinese Spaghetti Factory, Katsiroubas Bros. Wholesale Fruit and Produce, and a place simply titled Lord Jeff.
Yet the reason to come is Speed’s trailer.
I would have never ventured within miles of Newmarket Square if it wasn’t for the hot dog that won the hearts of both Raymond Sokolov of the Wall Street Journal and Frank Bruni of the New York Times. Given the number of classic dogs on NYC street corners, I would take the vote of either as statistically significant. Together their claim that Speed’s is the dog of all dogs is much more.
Sokolov embarked on a crosss-country quest for the best dog and counts Pink’s (Los Angeles), Gene and Jude’s (Chicago), and the Shake Shack (New York) as runners-up to the top dog. Yet he claims that Speed’s is the ultimate tube steak: “the wiener with the most wow, the frank of all franks.”
Then there is Bruni, former restaurant critic for the New York Times. His post at the paper made him arguably the most powerful and influential critic is in the country and possibly the world. And his choice: Boston Speed’s. Sure I wanted to try some calm “chow-da” while in Boston, but I simply couldn’t pass up a chance to taste a truly top contender for the best hot dog in the land.
The man behind Boston Speed’s is Ezra “Speed” Anderson, and he started dishing dogs in 1975. He personally no longer serves his famous franks out the window of the tiny mobile dog house, but he remains the one making the secret sauce that you can get slathered on your $7 charcoal grilled dog along with an equally fresh and homemade red relish. The secret sauce recipe is a closely guarded secret, but one of my sources passed along the rumor that one of the ingredients is… get this… grape jelly. Sources even closer to Speed would neither confirm nor deny this rumor.
What isn’t rumor is the recent panic among Boston’s hot dog aficionados. Recently Speed (well into his eighties) hung up his tongs, and passed along the day-to-day operations of the wagon to a younger partner, Greg Gale. By the time I arrived, though, this ruckus seems to have died down with Gale proving he wouldn’t mess with the best. Like Speed himself, Gale continues to use 1/2 pound commercial franks and marinate each one in apple cider and brown sugar before tossing it on the grill. The bun also gets toasted on the grill briefly.
The result is a wonder in a bun.
I haven’t yet tried every dog Sokolov did before crowning Speed’s the king, but I do know that Speed and Gale are deserve the buzz. They serve up a truly great dog… possibly the very best.
Posted in culture, dining, play, travel | Tagged Amanda Hyman, Anthony Hyman, best hot dog, Boston, Boston Speed's, Boston Speed's Famous Hot Dogs, Ezra "Speed" Anderson, Frank Bruni, Gene and Jude's hot dog, grape jelly, Greg Gale, grilled bun, hot dog, hot dog wagon, New York Times, Newmarket Square, Pink's hot dogs, Raymond Sokolov, secret sauce, Shake Shack hot dog, Wall Street Journal |
By Kevin Finch on June 9, 2009
New England Trip #4
Allow me to make fun of myself as well as others. One detail of the impressive lunch at The Hermitage that I failed to mention earlier was the very first bite I took.
Michael and Amanda’s enthusiastic description of the food at The Hermitage had me poised to dive in the moment something edible reached our table, and dive in I did. My first glance at the first small plate to arrive suggested it was a soft cheese drizzled in extra virgin olive oil and a balsamic reduction. “Ah!” I thought. “An amuse-bouche right out of the gate. Fresh Vermont cheese. Brilliant.” And without pause, I cut off a generous (but not greedy) portion and popped it in my mouth.
The look on Amanda’s face warned me a second before my taste buds.
It wasn’t cheese at all, but butter. Good butter, sure. Drizzled in olive oil and a balsamic reduction, yes. But straight butter.
No need to chew. Just swallow, gulp water, and deal with the embarrassed flush on my cheeks.
Currently this amuse-bouche faux pas makes my Top Ten Stupid Restaurant Critic Dining Decisions. If the very secrective oversight board that licenses restaurant critics worldwide hears about it, I am sure I will be put on critic probation for at least six months.
Posted in culture, dining, play, travel | Tagged amuse bouche, balsamic reduction, butter, dining enthusiasm, faux pas, olive oil, The Hermitage, The Hermitage Country Inn, The Hermitage Inn |
By Kevin Finch on June 3, 2009
New England Trip #1
From May 22 to May 31 the Feast was on the road flying to, meandering around, and returning from New England. Amanda, Michael, and Anthony Hyman served as hosts and tour guides for my nine day trip that included days in southern Vermont, Boston, the Connecticut shore and western hills, as well as New York City. Needless to say, food surfaced as a major focus for each day’s outing and I’m contemplating a series of posts that chronicle high points, great meals, and quirky moments of the trip.
To this end, let me begin by drawing you attention to a curious close-up of the fabric on the back of the seat in front of me on the first leg of the the plane trip: Spokane to Minneapolis. I’m sure you’ve heard tales of the Virgin Mary’s image supposedly appearing on a grilled cheese sandwhich or Jesus himself apparently showing up on artifacts far less momentous and historic than the Shroud of Turin. A few of these ‘relics’ have even gone up for bid on EBay.
This doesn’t look like Mary to me or Jesus, but I’ve digitally enhanced the photo to draw your attention to what looks to me like the side profile of a man in a chef’s hat. Given my fixation on food and delight in so many who prepare and serve it, you will undoubtedly accuse of me an overactive imagination. This is completely understandable. It is also why I took the picture so you might judge for yourself. Is it a fabric omen fortelling 9 days of oysters, clams, lobster, hot dogs, and frozen custard shakes or just Kevin needing reading material other than the Sky Mall catalog?
Posted in play, travel | Tagged Amanda Hyman, Boston, chef image, Connecticut, Michael Hyman, New England, New York City, Northwest Airlines, plane travel, religious relics, seat back, Vermont |
By Kevin Finch on May 14, 2009
When is the last time you had to face down a burger as tall as a shake?
Fifty-seven years ago Lovie Yancy started serving late-night burgers to musicians out of her Los Angeles home. The demand for these burgers outgrew her kitchen and so she bought the vacant lot next door and put up a hamburger stand and dubbed it “Fatburger.”
Last week Fatburger arrived in the Inland Northwest thanks to the Kalispel Tribe and the Northern Quest Casino and Resort. Fatburger bills itself as “the last great hamburger stand” and boasts a huge cult following across the country and locations in Hong Kong, Macao, and Dubai.
Step up to the counter and order, and you’ll hear the staff member waiting on you call out each item aloud and the rest of the crew yell back the order in unison. Ask for onion rings and the call out and response will be “Homemade!” since they slice and batter Fatburger rings daily on the premises. The shakes are also the real deal with hand-dipped hard ice cream and milk topped with whipped cream.
Yet the ultimate reason to drive to Airway Heights is for a Fatburger itself. Possibly the most customizable burger in the nation, it is made with real pride by the crew and built around fresh lean beef, seven standard ingredients (mustard, relish, onions, tomato, lettuce, and mayo), and four premium add-ons (cheese, bacon, chili, and… yes… and egg).
Order it the way you like it and pick your size. The medium is the standard burger with a 1/3 pound of beef for $4.25. But the obscene wonder on the menu is the monstrous XXXL with its giant bun and four ½ pound patties for $9.50. It almost needs to be classified as the eighth wonder of the world and must be seen to be believed. Eat a whole one, and the crew will take your picture and post it on the wall.
Yet even if you have no interest in an XXXL protein coma, take a risk at Fatburger and order yours with the egg. As strange as it sounds, it works. I’m not a big hamburger relish fan so I leave off the relish, and next time I plan to order my Fatburger with grilled onions. Note that ketchup is not an option at the counter. While you an add it yourself at the table, Lovie thought ketchup was too strong a flavor and hid the taste of her great beef. For my money, if anything is going to overpower the tastebuds it would be the mustard, but they have yet to consult me on this. A second note: Fatburger does have its own secret recipes for its mayo and mustard.
Most fast food outlets have target service times for people in the drive-through lane. McDonald’s, rumor has it, aims to have your food in your hand one minute and thirty seconds after your order is placed. Fatburger goes the other direction. They don’t start cooking your burger until the person at the counter yells over their shoulder “Medium!” or “Double X!” So expect to wait a bit: 6-8 minutes is the Fatburger target time.
But if you can live with slightly-less-than fast food, you will be in for a truly memorable meal from a hamburger stand that has retained a unique feel even in franchise form. A strange, added bonus for Spokane burger fans: since the Fatburger is in the casino and keeps casino hours, it is open 24 hours a day every weekend. Lovie Yancy would be proud.
[caption id="attachment_431" align="alignleft" width="288" caption="That would be mayo and mustard up the nose."]
[/caption]
Fatburger @ Northern Quest Casino
100 N Hayford Rd
Spokane, WA 99224
(509) 242-7000
Posted in culture, dining, play, travel | Tagged Airway Heights, burger, casino food, Fatburger, Fatburger xxxl, hamburger stand, homemade, Los Angeles, Lovie Yancy, McDonalds, milkshakes, Northern Quest Casino, onion rings, real shakes, Spokane restaurants, Spokane WA, steak fries |
By Kevin Finch on April 23, 2009
At the Main Market Earth Day dinner last night I got my first swing of Spokane’s Family Farm’s milk. It is the first whole milk I’ve had for quite a while.
As a kid growing up in Montana we picked up our milk weekly from Lonnie and Theresa Haack, and when I was in high school and sporting a brand new driver’s license I ended up making milk runs out to the farm itself to collect our two glass gallon jugs. I can clearly remember, if not exactly put into words, the thick creamy smell of the milk room when I opened the door each week.
At home we would have skim several inches of cream off the top of each gallon with a bent tin measuring cup, and for years I just assumed that everyone ate their breakfast cereal and oatmeal with cream on top. Milk was for drinking, not for cereal.
Spokane’s Family Farm milk won’t require you to drive out past Airway Heights for your half-gallon jug. Rosauer’s, Huckleberry’s and Yokes are stocking the local jugs. This is good news for Family Farm owners Mike and Trish Vieira who are rolling out of bed seven days a week at 5 a.m. to milk their thirty cows.
Make a point to pick up a half-gallon next time you head to the store and read the label. Down near the bottom it reads… quite truthfully… “bottled by Mike and Trish.”
Posted in cooking, culture, play | Tagged cream, dairy, half gallon, Huckleberry's Fresh Market, local food, Mike Vieira, milk, Rosauer's, Spokane area producers, Trish Vieira, whole milk, Yoke's Foods |
By Kevin Finch on April 21, 2009
At the Mariners game last Thursday we couldn’t stop with just Garlic Fries. In the 5th inning we went prowling the concourse for more to eat and happened upon a lonely tortilla themed booth at the far end of the 300 level. Unlike nearly every one of the other stands we had passed, there was no line here. It also occurred to us that nachos might make a good chaser for the garlic fries and deep-fried mushrooms we’d already polished off.
We place our order just as one woman was going on break so a second woman with iron grey hair and a severe expression stepped up to fill our order. “Nachos?” she asked sharply.
“Yes.”
“Beef or chicken?”
“Chicken.”
“Black beans?”
“Yes.”
Actually we answered yes to almost every question that followed and could barely believe the mound of toppings that grew and grew on top of a fairly small bed of chips. If anything I would have expected her to be stingy with us. Nothing could be further from the truth.
I can’t say the nachos she handed us two minutes later were the best nachos I’ve ever had. They weren’t. But they just might have been the largest. And the molten cheese goop laddled on top didn’t stay there; it cascaded down over the sides of the basket into the larger drink container and through the holes to drip on the concourse. I think it took us the better part of an inning to excavate deep enough to find a chip.
Posted in culture, dining, play, travel | Tagged baseball food, baseball game, Mariners, nachos, Safeco Field, Seattle, tortilla chips |
By Kevin Finch on April 18, 2009
My sister informed me there was one sacred requirement during my first visit to Safeco Field in Seattle for a Mariners game. It had nothing to do with Mariners memorabilia. Nothing to do with the stadium or even baseball. I had to order (and eat) the “world famous” garlic fries.
Typically when I eat garlic I know I will be sleeping in the basement, but Karen wasn’t along on this particular Seattle junket so garlic fries it was. That would be RAW GARLIC fries for those of you not yet among the Safeco Field initiates.
Each order came… somewhat curiously… with two thin slices of fresh apple. I pointed this out to the woman in the concession stand and asked her what the slices were for. She looked at me with a crooked smile and gestured to her mouth before saying “You know… your breath.” I appreciated the thought, but one glance at the garlic on the fries told me that an apple slice or two would be woefully inadequate. Bingo. I don’t know if it was the garlic fry effect or the fact that the Mariners were playing poorly, but by the 7th inning most of the people around me were gone.
If you are a garlic fiend, one order might be enough to convince you to buy Mariners season tickets. If you are not, the very fact that the fries are a signature item for the stadium might make you decide to never set foot in Safeco. The reality for the rest of us is probably somewhere in the middle, but I confess my favorite description of the fries came from a friend, Peter Tobin, here in Spokane when he caught wind of my stadium dining choice. He called the fries “goopy, greasy, smelly, morsels of love.”
Thanks Peter. I’m betting you sleep in the basement a lot.
Posted in cooking, culture, play, travel | Tagged baseball, baseball food, concessions, french fries, garlic, garlic fries, Mariners, Peter Tobin, Safeco Field, Safeco Field garlic fries |
