Burns My Bacon: Scenery vs. Food

What’s the deal with beachfront restaurants? Why do waterfront views and good food seem to be mutually exclusive?

This week I decided to try out a different place than the travesty of a restaurant we visited last time we went to the shore and ventured out to Cape May, NJ. We did our research and found a place that had a nice view and good reviews. Planning accordingly, we arrived in time for the sunset on the harbor. As the reviews said, the view was awesome. We could watch the boats come in, see the sunset, and enjoyed the scenery. The restaurant is actually on the second floor of the building, so there truly isn’t a bad seat in the house.

The food was a different story.

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Burns My Bacon: Excuses

Apparently some restaurants are better with their words than with their food and service. This weekend, my girlfriend and I went to a place on the beach with a great view for a casual dinner. We got our seats on the deck, got some sub-par cocktails, and looked over the menu. We picked the “casual” section of the restaurant, so most of the food was sandwiches and fried food, which was exactly what we were looking for.

Enter the waitress: clearly already frazzled by a section of six people. Before taking our orders, she explained, “we want to let you know right now that the food comes out fresh as it is made, so she may get her meal before you get yours.” I’ve heard it before; that’s fine. We ordered fries, chicken tenders, cheesesteak pizza roll things, and soup.

After 30 minutes, I realized that they are so clever at Coconut Cove that they’ve figured out how to have an excuse for the food and service before it’s even ordered. If you set people up to expect a wait for “fresh food,” they can’t be disappointed, right?

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Burns My Bacon: Useless Fortune Cookies

Last week, my husband and I both, separately, had super-rough days, and so instead of our usual rice and beans, we decided that we needed to drown our sorrows in a pile of grease and MSG.  Which is to say that we decided to order Chinese takeout.  The cheese wontons were delectably devoid of nutritional content, the “sesame beef” was mainly breading dipped in sweet and sour sauce, and the Kung Pao vegetables were mmm, mmm, SPICY.  Basically, the meal was exactly what we needed.  Until we got to the fortune cookies.

First off, let’s get one thing out of the way: fortune cookies do not taste good.  Apparently, there are people who like them, but here’s my thought:  think of a cookie, any cookie.  Now ask yourself, is it better than a fortune cookie?  I cannot think of a single instance where the answer would be no.  But that was not my problem.  That was not news to me.  No, the issue at hand, what really burns my reconstituted pork product, is the “fortune,” which is supposed to be the only redeeming part of the cookie.  When did fortune cookies stop predicting the future and start offering unhelpful life advice?  If I needed more of that, I would subscribe to O Magazine.  When I suffer through that hard, tasteless, folded piece of “cookie,” I expect to find out what exciting event awaits me, not a command to, “welcome each day as a fresh new beginning.”

I still remember the episode of Step by Step where Cody keeps opening fortune cookies to solve his life crisis until he finds one that reads, “Seek advice from the man upstairs.” This is what I’m talking about.  I guess I’ll just have to go back to horoscopes for a glimpse into my future (and that of everyone else born between November 22 and December 21, but that’s a rant for another time).

Burns My Bacon: Bones

I think we can all agree: meat on the bone tastes better. Or it’s more fun to eat, anyway. I know a lot of people who won’t eat meat off the bone because it reminds them it’s an animal (…what?) but I’m not one of them.

I was in Jamaica earlier this month and I noticed something. Every time I ordered meat (jerk chicken, curried goat, or chicken in brown sauce for breakfast — pictured above), I spent most of my meal picking small bones from it. I mean, bones in whole fish are sometimes inevitable (they’re just so small and hard to see), but I really don’t want to be eating bone fragments, especially when they can be sharp.

In Jamaica, it seems that to make the meat a more manageable size…they don’t take it off the bone, or even cut the bone at a place where it’d make sense (like the joint). The meat, bone and all, is just chopped up into bite size pieces. But who the hell cares if it’s bite-size if there are bone shards and shit in my food? Instead of eating meat off one, large, smooth and normally shaped bone, I’m sitting there with these little bite-size pieces of meat, and even smaller bones everywhere in them. And since there’s no rhyme or reason to the cutting, it’s impossible to predict where the bone/fat/ligament will be on each piece.

It was a scavenger hunt I never signed up to play, and after I got halfway through each bone hunt, I just gave up and ate what else was on my plate. I wasted so much food. And even if I DID spend the time picking through the bones, I just couldn’t get all the meat off that I would normally, given the sharp bone edges and fragments that were present.

Am I missing something? Is there a method to this madness? Is this a way to get people to eat less meat?

Burns My Bacon: Cheflebrity Pseudo-Locavorism

There are plenty of controversies in the food world, but one thing pretty much everyone agrees on (except maybe Sarah Palin), is that the proliferation of local and seasonal ingredients on restaurant menus is a good thing. Even if you don’t care about counting carbon miles, it’s hard to deny that vegetables grown nearby and eaten in the correct season just taste better. Even if you love McDonald’s, it’s difficult to not be at least a little grossed out by factory-farmed meat. So every foodie should be excited that the farm-to-table ethos has expanded from homey, reclaimed-wood-paneled spots in places like Brooklyn and Portland to restaurants run by some of the nation’s most celebrated chefs. Right?

Maybe not.

I recently ate at ABC Kitchen, Jean-Georges Vongerichten’s vegetable-centric, farm-to-table restaurant in Manhattan. Now when I say farm-to-table, I mean outrageously, over-the-top, down-to-the-tiniest detail farm-to-table. There is the requisite rooftop garden growing the eatery’s herbs, and everything down to the soy-based candles is organic. The tables themselves are made from salvaged northeastern woods. Decor consists of discarded tree branches and photos from local artists who understand how to put a bird on it. The menu has two sides: the first lists the dishes, while the flipside relates where every single ingredient is from. And we’re not just talking about sourcing the fish and the tomatoes. Literally every ingredient is accounted for. Thinking about ordering the pretzel-dusted calamari but need to know which artisan pretzel establishment makes the pretzels that generate the dust? They’ve got you covered.

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Burns My Bacon: Why Only Asiago?

As a born-and-bred New Yorker, I’m predisposed to believe that bagels should be good enough on their own not to need much gussying up. Blueberry bagel? No thank you. Chocolate bagel? Only if you’re in Disneyworld. A good bagel should be fresh, doughy and fluffy enough that all it needs in the way of embellishment is a good schmear.

But I have to admit there is one new-school bagel variety I can get behind: the increasingly omnipresent asiago cheese bagel. Embarrasingly, I believe I first tried this kind 8 years ago at an Einstein Bros. Bagels shop, of all places (I know, I know, but I lived in DC at the time, and ES has already lamented the quality bagel crisis there).

I loved it. That rich, slightly burnt orange-y cheese on top can really take a mediocre bagel and make it great. Since then, I’ve seen asiago bagels all over the country, and I’m not about it. Not mad about it one bit.

But it got me thinking: why is asiago cheese the only kind that seems to ever be baked into a bagel? Why hasn’t this opened up a whole new world of cheesy bagel delights? Where are the parmesan bagels? The brie bagels? The cheddar and havarti bagels?

Is there some physical reason why asiago cheese is the only kind that works baked into a bagel? Does the asiago lobby have the bagel bakers on their payroll? Is their a conspiracy against cheddar? I don’t mean to look a gift horse in the mouth — it’s certainly not asiago bagels’ fault — but what’s the deal here? I want more cheesy bagels! Or at least I want some answers.

(Photo: Orijinal)

Burns My Bacon: 1 Tequila, 2 Tequila, 3 Tequila, FAIL

The Irish bar next door to my office always has a sandwich board advertising the day’s food/drink specials. To my intense annoyance, said board often has misspellings and a ton of misplaced apostrophes (“$3 Bloody Mary’s!” etc). It has become a private, daily tradition of mine to check the board and make snarky mental comments about how dumb they are.

Today, though, this bar has taken it TOO. FAR. Time to get the venting out of my mind and into the world.

Come on, guys! As much as I hate bad grammar and spelling, I can usually let things slide. But tainting the hallowed name of tequila?! This offends me on a personal level. Please take note that this abomination occurs not once, but twice. Then they add insult to injury with the whole “qesadilla” situation. I mean, maybe Spanish isn’t their first language. It isn’t mine, either. But I at least know that Q is generally followed by a U. It’s like they are actively trying to spell everything wrong. You have a job in the bar industry! You are physically and metaphorically surrounded by food and drink words! How…?!

And don’t try to give them the benefit of the doubt by saying “But they’re an Irish bar, maybe they never learned basic Mexican food words because”… no. Not a legit excuse. (This also begs a whole different question — why aren’t they serving colcannon and Guinness as a special? I’ve almost never seen them touting any sort of Irish dish.) Plus it’s not just foreign languages that trip them up. Don’t think I didn’t notice that “provalone” travesty near the bottom of the sign. I got my eye on you, Sailor Jerry-themed specials board.

If you want to make your living hawking food and booze, at least attempt to respect your trade and your customers through attention to detail. If correctly spelling menu items is even considered a “detail” and not a glaringly obvious priority.

More rants: check out our Burns My Bacon archive. Better yet, feed us back and tell us what burns your bacon.

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