Category Archives: Uncategorized

From Mike Rhode, who lays it out plain as simple as bologna on white.

Nate Beeler, cartoonist for the conservative free paper, The Examiner, draws an enticing hamburger – a quadruple decker in fact. But he’s less impressed with the Democratic health care plan that he has the hamburger standing in for.
In Nate’s view, President Obama’s selling the health care plan by saying it will save money, and Nate equates that with the argument that eating a giant fast food burger will help you lose weight.

A ha!

Mike must actually pick up those soggy free Examiner’s from his front yard. Mine are slowly eroding to mulch among the crocuses…

BIG BENEFIT SANDWICH SALE & DANCE

FOR ROY CARRIER & DONNA ANGELLE

Saturday, March 27
Roy Carrier‘s Offshore Lounge

Lawtell, LA

Sandwich sale begins at 10 am

Pork            $

Chicken    $4

Dance begins at 9 pm until….

Music by Roy Carrier & Donna Angelle

Admission $7

337-351-2404 for more info or to make a donation

The non-profit for the benefit of Roy Carrier Bank account is ongoing and
IT’S TAX DEDUCTABLE!

For wired donations the account name is:
Benefit Of Roy Carrier
Account # 819510637
Routing Number 065400137

To send a check by on-line banking or through the mail

make the check payable to Benefit Of Roy Carrier

and put the account number on the check.

Mail to:
Chase Bank
c/o Benefit Of Roy Carrier
800 Pinhook Rd.
Lafayette, LA 70503
http://www.chase.com


Illustration by Mara Cherkasky

Who’s
going with me/meeting me
at Jazz Fest 2011?

My best friend stood up at my wedding. She is clever with words, very clever, and punch funny. As best maid, the toast was her task, and she nailed it, or would have, had her words come as true as I hoped. “He is the salt of the earth. She is the spice of life. Together they make a perfect recipe.”

I am well aware that there is no such thing as a perfect recipe, and that perfect is the enemy of good, and that a perfect life is imperfect. On and on. Still…determining when the imperfection’s glare is enough to blind you is, well, an imperfect science.

If I had to choose, salt or spice, I admit I would take salt. Today. Tomorrow I choose spice. It is a quandary with no good option, not as critical as the question, would you rather be blind or deaf (you know you have thought about it), for sure, but it does make you dig deep into your needs and wants.

For tonight, the Ides of March, pork rubbed with pepper as red as corned beef, sliced thick, on juice-sopped sourdough. For Wednesday, St. Patrick’s Day, between slabs of rye, corned brisket with cinnamon the shade of pan drippings, ginger as pale as leaf lard, and cloves with the strength of bacon bits. For spring, coming soon, on a baguette, with mustard, slivered leg of lamb with rosemary as green as wet moss and garlic as damp as a bone-chilling fog. Add salt. Particularly for the corned beef, please.

Renee Comet

Lisa Cherkasky

Googie-of-the-Month-Club

Goody’s Coffee Shop | Breakfast 6 A.M. | 865 E. Las Tunas Drive

Googie Style

Entranced by the steel cut-outs.

I did it. For Schmidt’s. For our vacation kitty. The vacation called EATMORESANDWICHES. For the drive to our summer vacation, deli thins cut the mustard cause they hold meat and cheese like a bread vice.

Sandwich photos by Dan Whipps
Sandwiches by Me

A bit of touching news from the Lunch Encounter archives.

Katrina’s Lives Lost: Joseph Casamento, 1925-2005
Submitted By: N.O.V.A November 2005
Source: Times Picayune 11-11-2005
The night we went to Casemento’s during Jazz Fest 2002, Teddy was two and with no agenda of his own. Where we went, he went, gladly. That boy ate meals four, five, six times a day in New Orleans, morning, noon and night. Sometimes it was near to midnight, as it was this night, and we caught Casemento’s at the end of their evening service. Ate up and got out. The place gleams, floor to ceiling with shiny white tile, just right for an oysteria. We gleamed too, faces shiny with appetite and pleasure.

Joe Casemento lived his entire life above the restaurant that bears his family’s name.

“He had a ham sandwich every night,” said Gerdes, wife of C.J. Gerdes, Casamento’s nephew and an owner of the family restaurant. “And then he had some cookies and his ice cream.”

Teddy does look a bit shell-shocked. Over the few days we were there, we all ate our own weight in oysters, po-boys and bread pudding. No exceptions.

RIP Joe Casemento.

The restaurant lives on. Go!

Alright, alright, I’m swearing off blaming for Lent.

See, that was easy.

Well, what to do to replace that gap in my brain??

Oh yeah.  Rather than pointing fingers, a person is supposed to be “solution oriented.” A good person, that is. Oh. Kay. I like a puzzle. Satisfaction in solving.

Also, while we’re at it, this exercise in self-discipline and evolution, let’s increase the levels of ethical and creative expression around this joint, and ramp up the emotional self-sufficiency.

Lord, and I do mean Lord with a capital L, seeing as this is a post about Lent with a capital L, I am starved from all the naval gazing. Got quite a crick in my neck, too. Should have never lent my head down that low for that long. Particularly since we did not even loosen up with the debauchery of Mardi Gras this year. The blizzard of 2010 blew away all sense of time. Whomp, we got bombarded, and when we came to Mardi Gras had come and gone.

If you are lucky enough to be a Lenten observer and to be living in or near Pittsburgh, you can turn to your Pittsburgh Catholic’s Fish Fry Guide, a newspaper supplement that lists five pages of fish fries.

Here in northern Virginia we do not have the culture of fish fries, and I miss that from my days in Wisconsin. Equal parts fried fish, French fries and tartar sauce. Honestly, Lent need not even figure in. Or Catholicism, or even God. We bypassed all that and went straight for the crispy fried stuff that burst steam when stabbed, any Friday, all year round.

They all have fish — sandwiches or “in a dish,” mostly fried but some baked. St. Jon Vianney parish, in the neighborhood known as Hilltop near Mt. Oliver, also has shrimp, crab cakes, even pecan-encrusted tilapia. St. Therese of Lisieux in Munhall offers fish stuffed with crab meat. St. Mary’s in Cecil has a menu touting cod hand-
breaded in panko and wild-caught scallops seared in butter and olive oil — plus beer!

Read all about it here:

Smell the hot oil? Fish fry season is here.

Photo by Heather Mull, who writes,
Spring in Pittsburgh means the return of the ubiquitous Lenten fish fry. The Original Oyster House in Market Square, which will celebrate its 140th anniversary in October 2010, serves an average of 300 pounds of battered cod each Friday during Lent, and twice as much on Ash Wednesday. Mary Colbert, of Brentwood, has been kitchen manager at the Oyster House for 30 years. “It’s a madhouse,” says Colbert. “There are lines out the door and onto the sidewalk and people are jammed inside just waiting for take-out. We get here at 4 a.m. on Ash Wednesday and stay until 10 that night, and the other Fridays we here from 10 a.m. until 10 p.m.”
able Magazine, large and printed on nice-to-thumb heavy paper, is a real beauty coming out of Western Pennsylvania, a gift to me from the Sublime Miss M, who is a regular contributor.

I first read about Musso & Frank Grill in Roadfood, the 1992 edition, and, on my imaginary United States map, there has been a red pushpin on 6667 Hollywood Boulevard ever since. Last October the mighty fine boyfriend and I  stayed for a couple nights at a schwanky LA hotel, the Roosevelt, whose main draw was proximity to Musso & Frank Grill.
We made it. Not a moment too soon. Jonesin’ for a tongue sandwich will leech the stuffin’ out of ya, sooner or later.

Cordial Mr. Manuel seated me in a booth offering “visual command of the room,” and said, “I want to keep my eye on you.”He had my ego’s most basic desires nailed before my eyes had adjusted to the room’s languid dimness.

You don’t see enough Appetizer Franks or Chiffonade Salads on menus these days. And if you did, you might be leery about ordering them. Not here. Everything old is new again. Or new still, perhaps. Even spumoni. I was thrilled to rest my eyes on Smoked Tongue Sandwich 16.50. Yowza. Did not notice the price at the time, all blurry from tears of joy, was I.

I remember Consommé, Welsh Rarebit and the Side Car. I remember my mother in a sheath, spike heels and a brunette Barbie bubble-cut do, too.

A glorious tongue sandwich, as it should be, on toasted rye. No surprises, thankfully. Yes, I ate the pickle. And the parsley.
I recommend that you slide into a cool Musso & Frank booth during one of your day’s cocktail hours. We did not. The waitstaff makes no secret of the pride they take in their spirit service.

Mr. Manuel asked TMFBF to send him a copy of the snapshots.

“Do you have email?”

“No, but my dad does.”

There are many things about which I have a shortage of information and an excess of opinion. On cheesesteaks my jury is still out. Plenty of information, but still hazy in the opinion department. That’s okay, there are more than enough opinions to go around. In the age of instant online proselytizing we are bombarded with jump-to-conclusion remarks based on little or mis information. On cheesesteaks…I need to gather more experience (as in hit more cheesesteak joints), create a spreadsheet (as in put a napkin in my lap), and hone my tastes before holding forth.DC’s got JJ’s now, a new spot on the U Street corridor. My journey continued there last Saturday. Could swear I heard that they were using Amoroso’s rolls from Philadelphia, but could not verify that when I was there with Along-for-the-Ride Heidi. Excellent fries. Hot sauce for giants.Cheez Whiz. Lots of changes breaking through at 14th and U. Truly becoming a renewed city, DC is, some by accident and some by Design.

Sandwich news from MMSMINY* …

Danny Meyer’s Union Square Hospitality Group (USHG) and the Whitney are pleased to introduce Sandwiched, a new “pop-up” cafe at the Museum featuring sandwich creations from USHG’s celebrated chefs. Set to open in tandem with 2010, the Whitney Biennial, on Thursday, February 25th, Sandwiched is a temporary cafe serving visitors while the permanent dining space on the lower level of the museum is being renovated. As part of the Biennial, the Whitney commissioned Jeffrey Inaba’s architecture collective INABA and C-Lab to design the space.

*My main sandwich man in New York has my perpetual admiration and envy in his pocket. He had the brains way back when to take his talent and head for the center of the universe. Out here on a satellite, I read about the firey core and feel gravity pulling hard from the north.