This seems kind of wrong, no?

Editor’s Note: With the football post-season kicking into high gear, contributor broadandpattison returns for a retrospective on another year as an Eagles fan…and the tailgating grub that got him through it.

Given that my beloved Eagles seem to have a much different definition of “football” than I do, this year I decided to use my time at Eagles games more wisely. That is, instead of “going to the football game,” I go to the tailgate. It occurred to me at my last tailgate, before the Pats spanked the Birds, that all of the wonderful food I was eating was actually the exact OPPOSITE of the Eagles players I’ve been watching all year. Let’s break it down:

Dish: Bacon, Egg and Cheese……and a Keystone Light
Exact Opposite: Desean Jackson

The Sunday morning breakfast sandwich is about the most reliable food order of all time. It’s Sunday morning, you’re a little hungover, you need grease and substance at the same time….you get a breakfast sandwich. Works every time. It used to be that we could count on Desean for a long touchdown bomb and a totally over-the-top TD dance every game, just like you could count on the breakfast sandwich hitting the spot every Sunday morning. Now? I’m not sure Desean knows when he is playing football.

Dish: Pulled Pork on Brioche
Exact Opposite: Casey Matthews

The pulled pork at the tailgate was juicy, seasoned and delicious. No matter how much you have, you can ALWAYS have one more bite. Casey Matthews? You never want one more play out of him. EVER. No more!!!!! Please stop!!!! (Those emotions never, ever are associated with pulled pork. Ever.)

Dish: Chicken Cutlet, Broccoli Rabe, Sharp Provolone on an Amoroso Roll
Exact Opposite: Juan Castillo and Defensive Coordinator

There hasn’t been a marriage as sturdy, stable and perfect as the chicken cutlet-broccoli rabe-sharp provolone-amoroso since peanut butter and jelly. I mean, these items are PERFECT for each other. They were meant for each other. Juan Castillo and the word “defense” were meant for each other about as much as the Montagues and Capulets. It doesn’t work!!!! How come everyone knew it wouldn’t work but Andy Reid!?!!?!?

Dish: Fried Fish in a Hot Dog Bun with Russian Dressing
Exact Opposite: Nnamdi Asomghnotverygood

That’s right – fried motherfucking fish in a motherfucking hot dog bun with motherfucking Russian dressing. Don’t see it working in a football tailgate, do you? Neither did I. But guess what? It motherfucking works!!!! Delicious. I would have never thought. You know what I was sure of? Certain of, in fact. Nnamdi being a GREAT player! Well, he isn’t.

Finally, I wish I had eaten something as good as Andy Reid is bad. But I’m not sure man has created a dish quite that delectable just yet.

‘Til next year, football eaters.

When I first discovered The Dead Celebrity Cookbook it was a near hit at the back of Entertainment Weekly’s The Bullseye feature. Frank Decaro, best know for being the movie critic on The Daily Show with Jon Stewart, drew inspiration for the book from a college party in the 80′s. All of Decaro’s friends dressed as a dead celebrity, but the party had a fatal flaw — it lacked food. So, over the years Decaro collected a mass of cookbooks, magazines and other sources of recipes from celebrities who are now dead. If you can get past the morbidity of the book it really is a great collection of recipes, with no particular rhyme or reason other than they’re each supposedly a favorite of a deceased famous person. Who’d have thought Johnny Casrson cooked? Whitefish, no less.

If you can convince yourself that these people actually cooked, let alone had a favorite recipe worth keeping note of, then it’s worth having as an addition to your collection of cookbooks. Plus, most  the recipes are pretty basic. Dean Martin’s burgers and bourbon consists of three ingredients — beef, salt and bourbon — at least he seasoned (what, you’re expecting molecular gastronomy?) My favorite chapter is chapter 25, Thank You for Feeding a Friend, which includes Bea Arthur’s veggie breakfast and Rue McClanahan’s non-dairy cheesecake, among other Golden Girls goodies. And to get your started, here’s one fabulous recipe from the DCD.

How does one catch a salmon, why with a wire clothes hanger of course…

Joan Crawford, 1905-1977, Poached Salmon

3lb single piece of salmon
3 lemons
6 cups water
10 pearl onions, peeled
1/2 stalk celery with leaves
2 sprigs parsley
3 small bay leaves
12 peppercorns, crushed
2 teaspoons salt
2 cups mayonnaise
4 teaspoons prepared mustard
1/2 cup fresh lemon juice

Rinse and dry fresh. Cut lemons in thin slices, place slices on both sides of the fish. Wrap fish in double thickness of a cheesecloth, secure with kitchen string. In a deep saucepan with a rack (or fish poacher) pour the water, onions, celery, parsley, bay leaves, crushed peppercorns and a pinch of salt and pepper. Place fish on the rack, ensuring it is half submerged in water. Cover and slowly simmer, approximately 40 minutes. Place fish on a platter removing the cheesecloth and lemon slices.

Combine the mayonnaise, mustard and lemon juice. Mix well. Serve with salmon.

I usually would not hesitate to declare that fish is the least drool-worthy protein, but I challenge you to find a bloody steak that is more photogenic than this San Francisco halibut with black olive crust, chorizo, corn milk, squash blossoms and sorrel emulsion from the Fifth Floor in SF. It’s part of chef David Bazirgan’s seasonal “Harvest By the Bay” menu, available this week only, through Oct 22nd.

As a life-long Philly guy, I think I speak from experience when I say that this city isn’t usually on the cutting edge of the latest trends and fashions.  For all of its charms, this place can be bit more traditional…parochial, even, when it comes to new ways of doing things.  So it’s no surprise that the food truck phenomenon arrived a little bit later in Philly than other cities like New York.  That said, Philadelphia has been working hard to narrow the gap a bit with some inspired new mobile options, a few of which go beyond the everyday taco truck.

Oh, sure, we have those, too.  And not just any taco truck.  An Iron Chef taco truck:  Guapos Tacos is run by Jose Garces’ local restaurant empire and serves some tasty fish tacos.  But what if I told you that there is also a Mexican-Thai fusion truck that makes creative use of a favorite kids’ breakfast cereal?  How about a truck dedicated to Trinidadian food?  That’s not something you see every day.

The cuisine of Trinidad may not be as well-known as its Caribbean neighbors, but some of its better known dishes — roti and doubles — lend themselves very well to street eating, and the new truck called “Mini Trini” showcase both on its menu.  I made my first trip to Philly’s Love Park recently to sample the doubles, essentially a sandwich that features chickpea curry between two slices of fried dough.  The filling is reminiscent of a channa masala you might find in an Indian restaurant, and the fluffy “bun” provides a chewy means of getting that curry into your mouth while also adding some bulk to what is really a snack-sized serving.  The real kick is provided by the optional pepper sauce, but I’m telling you — go lightly.  The flavors of the bread and filling are quite mild and subtle, so it’s best not to completely blow them out of the water with the heat.

The “doubles” is tasty and filling (for its size) and a couple of them make for a great on-the-go lunch.  But my favorite mid-day truck takes the tastes of Southeast Asia and puts them in familiar Mexican formats to create something unexpected and delicious.

Cucina Zapata, on the campus of Drexel University, has a considerable line come lunchtime, and it’s no wonder.  The food is inventive, substantial, inexpensive and — above all else — fantastic.  The tacos are outstanding.  Do yourself a favor and get two: one chicken satay (featuring a zesty peanut sauce) and one short rib (which had wonderful notes of five spice) and it will likely be the best meal you can get in Philly for $6.

They also do an inventive take on the fish burrito (above) serving a Cap’n Crunch-crusted tilapia burrito that manages to bring a slightly sweet but not overwhelming flavor from the cereal you loved when you were 11 years old.  The burrito comes loaded with sauce, cabbage, sliced avocado and other toppings, making Cucina Zapata the destination of choice whether you’re a poor student or nearby office worker like me.

Even though Philadelphia wasn’t at the vanguard of the food truck revolution, the good news is that they’re getting more and better options when it comes to mobile gourmet treats.  Now, if only I can convince DiNic’s to take its show on the road…

The Endless Road Trip: Philadelphia

1. There Will Be Blood…and Beets
2. Soup Dumpling Surprise
3. Cheesesteaks Gone Wild!
4. Duck in a Pot
5. Pretzels, Pretzels Everywhere
6. A Stand-Up Slice
7. Love on the Run
8. A Plate of Cheese and a Pail of Grapes
9. The New Cupcakes
10. Tastykake Taste Test

Last week I started photo-journaling my first fishing experience. I left off in the waiting period, which is pretty much what this type of non-casting fishing is all about.

While drifting around in one set of coordinates without any luck, our fisherman Dave got on his cell phone. Yes, I said cell phone. Here we are, on the Columbia River, caressing through the misty Oregon air and Dave chats it up with another fisherman, finding salmon in another set of coordinates.

We brought in our reels and Dave (above) drove us to a new area. (PS-You can totally hire Dave to help you find fish.) Forty-five seconds later Greg, our event organizer, started screaming. A salmon hooked onto Nick’s line. Greg screamed for everyone to reel in their lines, for fear Nick’s catch would tangle other lines. Within another 45 seconds, a 12-inch salmon wriggled in the hands of Nick and Dave. Cameras snapped and the salmon soon returned to the water, for it wasn’t a native fish and it wasn’t the right time of year and salmon politics are awfully complicated.

The excitement hung in the air for another few minutes as we eagerly awaited another catch in our new sexy coordinates.

The sun started to break through and we could finally see our surroundings. To me, it looked a bit like LOST. Expansive, uninhabited land. Although I’m sure if you’ve been to Hawaii, which I have not, you could probably tell the difference between Oregon and a beachy island in the Pacific. I thought it looked glorious, nonetheless.

The lines kept quiet after that first tug. We broke out our packed lunches. Dave returned to the phone. It was close to noon and we had to get back to Portland—and we still had to pick up our crabs.

Before we  dropped the crates of bait, we thew out these markers so upon our return we could find our catch. But what I didn’t know at the time, was that Dave also marked the GPS coordinates of our crates. I had no idea that fishing now relied so heavily on technology.

What happened to following the stars, breathing different airs, heeding intuition? I guess it’s better to be right than to live up to my idealized version of romance on the sea. Is this cheating? Is this an unfair advantage to the fisherwo/man?

Although, I was thankful for every second that the GPS saved us for I had to pee, as my mom would say, like a race horse, as the trip neared the end.

We took turns pulling the crates up, which turned out to be hard work, pulling and pulling a rope, forcing crabs (and picked-at bait) up through the surface of the water and onto the boat.

But it didn’t stop there. After flipping the crabs out of the crate, each one had to be inspected for size and gender. Upon a first glance, some could be thrown back for appearing obviously under the appropriate width.

Others had to be measured.

But look! Eek! As you hold a crab it starts to curl around you. While the gloves protected any clamping injuries, I still could barely conjure up the nerve to grab one of these little fellows.

See above video.

Male (females are thrown back) and appropriately-sized crabs were tossed into an iced cooler. Upon our return to land, an inspector checked the catches. Keeping “illegal” crabs or fish carries a large fine, hovering around $1,000.

Conveniently, a shop that cleans and steams crabs set up shot right at the docking station. That process took about 45 minutes so Greg drove the group (Liz, Nick, Danielle) to nearby Fort Stevens State Park.

On that beach is the Peter Iredale shipwreck, which if placed on a city block could pass as a public art display and find praise for enriching urban life. We stayed on this windy beach for, like most beach trips, not enough time. But we had to get back for our crabs.

Upon our return, our crabs turned bright red. They were getting sprayed. Cooling off at this point, I think.

Learning my way around crabs from the Maryland variety, I know how to tell the difference between male and female crabs: The “Washington Monument” shape appears on males and the “Capitol building” appears on females.

With the all-male band of crabs resting on ice, we drove to Portland, where talented chefs turned our catch into composed dishes.

And then we ate them. But I’ll tell you, the crabs didn’t taste any sweeter dying by my hand.

Previously: Screeching, Squirming and Screaming: Crabbing and Fishing in Oregon, Part I

All elements of this trip were hosted and arranged by Travel Oregon. 

Farfalle and Broccoli in an Anchovy Garlic Sauce

First off, save yourself some time and microwave the broccoli in a dish with some water for a minute and half.  Yes, it’s cheating, but I’m telling you it’s OK.

I screeched and squirmed and well, fine, flat out screamed really, really loudly. Like reeeeal fucking loud. But it was okay. It was just the six of us on the Columbia River, with only a few seals popping up through the chilly water.

And maybe some cranes. Pelicans? Well, I’m not sure. This fishing excursion marked my first time in Oregon and I didn’t properly prepare for bird sightings. Or really, for fishing and crabbing in general. For it was my first time at this too. The only other time I’ve played with a fishing reel was on my friends’ balcony, for they lower the keys down from their 6th floor apartment to incoming guests. It’s pretty fun, but Tim doesn’t let me near the reel all that often. I’m not gentle on the line.

The six of us drove from Portland to Astoria (check out this gorgeous, sea lion and Goonie-filled town on FB), drank lovely beer at Fort George Brewery + Public House and went to bed early.

I just had to: here’s one glamour shot of Astoria.

Don’t let the lighting fool you. I snapped this when we returned from fishing, around noon, but the picture is here to move the plot along. Imagine this is all misty.

Kind of like this, actually. We’re just taking off and I’m sitting right behind these crates of bait. It’s cold out and my rain jacket doubled as a blanket.

Lots of bait, by the way. On our way out we dropped six crates to catch crab.

Pretend I’m Wayne. This is your extreme close-up of the bloody, fish head bait, situated just a foot in front of me. Did I mention I’ve never fished before?

Clockwise starting with the chicken: (1) Yes, I said chicken. Apparently crabs like whole, raw chickens. (2) Then there’s me, dropping in a crate. Heavier than it looks. (3) Crabs also like little whole fish too, I guess. (4) And then there’s this fish head, dripping blood. Now imagine the boat going forward, with the crate in front of me. Fish blood flying on to my jacket. Yea. Right. Okay.

After we threw the bait out to sea we motored down the river to catch salmon. Our reels locked into holders. We set our dials (?) to the specific depth and waited. And sat there.  And waited.

In my mind, I imagined this part to be more active. There’d be live bait I’d have to wrangle onto a hook. I would fling the reel behind me and cast it far out on the water.

In reality, I did very little to engage the salmon. Instead of live bait, tiny florescent squares attached to the end of the line. Casting didn’t happen either, as the handles slid easily into the holder. I didn’t even have to touch the rod at all. It felt like cheating, if you ask me.

It’s lovely out on the Columbia. The water remained calm. The mist sat there thick and blinded us to whatever else floated by. We could only see a few feet in front of us. I’m not used to feeling this alone in the world. I live in the city with three loud bus lines circling my apartment 20 hours a day. When the motor stopped, the scene played silently. It was just the six of us: Liz, Nick, Danielle, Greg, our event organizer, and Dave, our fisherman.

And so we wait. We wait for salmon.

Be patient for part two later this next week.

Read More: Part II

New Yorkers are obnoxiously proud of our lunchtime options. We don’t do chains because we don’t have to. Not when you can find everything from banh mi hot dogs to Brussels sprouts sandwiches for under $10. That’s exactly why I’ve been so bothered by the rapid proliferation of Cosi, Pret a Manger and the like across Manhattan in recent years. Are New Yorkers really lunching at these places now? Sure, these semi-upscale sandwich chains are better than Subway or Quiznos, but I’d still take a Boar’s Head bodega roll any day of the week.

Recently entering the midtown sandwich contest and blowing the chains out of the water is City Sandwich, a Portuguese-style sandwich shop from chef Michael Guerrieri. Now, you foodies may be noting that there’s not really any such thing as a Portuguese-style sandwich. This is true. Like most refined Europeans, the Portuguese prefer to sit down and eat their meals with knives and forks. So Guerrieri, who was born in Naples, raised in New York and spent 13 years cooking in Lisbon, has taken traditional Portuguese meals and turned them into an array of newly-invented sandwiches.

The crispy bread is brought in twice daily from a Portuguese bakery in New Jersey; the insides scooped out to make room for fillings and to ensure the sandwiches aren’t too heavy. Each one is spread with high-quality olive oil and built using unique ingredients you’d be hard-pressed to find in any other sandwich shop in the world. For example, the Bench Girl, pictured above, contains alheira, a smoky, spicy sausage that was pioneered by Portuguese Jews during the Inquisition. In an effort not to stand out among their pork-eating compatriots, the Jews invented this chorizo-like link that is actually made from chicken, but looks enough like the real deal that no one could guess they weren’t dining on swine. Apparently, back in the day on the Iberian peninsula, not eating pork was enough to get you burned at the stake. Today, a little bit of pork has managed to sneak into most versions of alheira currently produced in Portugal, but it’s still a superbly rich and flavorful sausage that’s not quite like any other. It’s paired here with an omelet, grilled onions, spinach, and melted mozzarella, for a savory breakfast-y sandwich that is appropriate any time of day.

For a look at City Sandwich’s other inventive, Portuguese-influenced sandwich creations, keep reading after the jump.

The newest addition to the CS menu is the Fatima, which takes another Portuguese classic — octopus salad — and transfers it to the sandwich roll.  Fresh octopus is marinated overnight in white wine vinegar and olive oil so that it comes out extremely smooth, without even a hint of that rubbery texture octopus is so often associated with, then topped with diced onions and peppers, plus fresh arugula and parsley.

The Auntie incorporate another hard-to-find-in-this-country item — fresh sardines — which go through a three-day house pickling process and are then joined with sauteed onions, tomato and cilantro. The little fishes’ richness and saltiness come through, but it’s surprisingly not overpowering — a more delicate flavor balance than one might expect from a sardine sandwich.

The Chef sandwich wins the award for least appetizing sounding ingredient that actually turns out to be delicious: “soaked codfish.” That would be dry salted cod which has been soaked in water to cut the saltiness, then topped with tomato, seasonal lettuce, sauteed onions and capers, plus a black olive pesto spread across the bread.

In the Henrique sandwich, that smoky alheira sausage resurfaces, this time paired with collard greens, grilled onions, tomato and melted mozzarella.

The Maria features paio — a dry-cured pork loin sausage, served with egg whites, broccoli rabe, sauteed onions, melted mozzarella and tomato.

In the Nuno the pork product starts getting really interesting. This one has morcela — Portuguese blood sausage — a deeply rich, dark and salty morsel that I swear melts in your mouth. The Nuno also has broccoli rabe AND collard greens, tomato, melted mozzarella and garlic. You may need a hero-sized breath mint after this bad boy, but trust me, it will be worth it.

For those getting a little scared, the Franco is more of a classic: Parma prosciutto, fresh mozzarella, roasted peppers and arugula. The kicker, just in case you flavor haters thought you were getting off easy: raw garlic.

The James is a roast beef sandwich that, if there is any justice at all, should put Arby’s out of business: extremely thin slivers of RB topped with roasted red and yellow peppers, broccoli rabe, melted mozzarella, sauteed onions and olive oil.

Don’t think they forgot about you veggie folks. The Diane features radicchio, grilled onions, roasted tomato, roasted zucchini, and ample slices of goat cheese, drizzled with sweet balsamic vinegar.

And finally, the palate cleanser: panna cotta with strawberry port wine sauce, in a plastic cup, for a buck.

Your move, Cosi.

City Sandwich
649 9th Avenue
New York, NY

San Sebastian

Ed Note: Our friend Jake recently returned from the Basque Country, eager to tell me about his love affair with food from the region. I think he might have even said it was his favorite cooking from around the world. 

Baby Eel

And Jake’s been around, growing up in Philly, living in Boston, DC and Portland and traveling through Asia and India and many more places.  Especially, Costa Rica, where he toured with teenagers around the hills, farms and lakes of the country. He also wrote about it on Simmer a few years ago. Here are a few highlights from his taste of the Basque Country. 

Beans, Jamon and Olives

Basque Country (Pais Vasco) claims to be neither a part of Spain nor France, rather an independent region with its own take on how eating should be done. I like.

Anchovies

I’m pretty sure everyone knows tapas, you sit down to eat with a few friends, share a few small plates and leave hungry and feeling like you overpaid. I get it.

Oxtail, Mashed Potato, Pepper Guernika

Enter pinxtos (pronounced pinch-os).

Okay, it’s not really cheap eating, but it’s damn good, and worth the experience. Smaller than tapas, and usually served on a slice of baguette, you can down one in a few bites.

Shrimp, Egg, Mayo

In San Sebastian, a small coastal city on the north Atlantic coast of the Basque region, a cluster of bars in the old city become a nightly hotspot for tourists and locals alike seven nights a week.

Various Croissants

For one to three euro per pinxto, you travel from bar to bar, eating and drinking, sampling and tasting until it’s time to just switch to good ol vino.

Pickles, Olives, Jamon

Each bar tries to be more inventive than the next, from baby eel to anchovies, squid and lots of different kinds of cheeses and of course, jamon serrano.

Clockwise from front center: Croquette of Jamon Serrano, Tuna, Jamon and Cheese, Jamon and Mayo(ish)

Seafood abounds, but it’s the combinations of things where the magic happens. Try jamon, anchovy and a delicious pepper guernika. Actually, try ‘em all.

(Photos: Jake)