Googie-of-the-Month-Club

Algemac’s Coffee Shop + Dining Room |  Googie Style  |  3673 San Fernando Road  |  City of Glendale  |  California
Googie Style

AT JEWISH DELIS, TIMES ARE AS LEAN AS GOOD CORNED BEEF

Dear Lucky Winners Betty and Aaron,

Your email addresses, Betty and Aaron, as indicated was drawn and

attached to Ref:Save the Deli (STD)/968/06 Batch: 409978E

Ticket Number:008795727498

Serial Numbers /BTD/908064830206 Lucky Pastrami

Properly ID’d ham and cheese eaters

Numbers fmDTY14-21-25- 40-47(20.

Amount won ?1,000,000.00 (One Million Great Britain Pounds of Corned Beef) Please Contact your events manager for fast spreading of the mustard and of your winnings with a copy of your international passport and birth certificate as well as the information bellow.

CLAIMS REQUIREMENTS

*Full Names:…………

*Next of kin

*Matzoh ball soup with or without dill……….

*Date of birth:…………….

*Sex:…………

*Address:… ……..

*Country:………..

*Occupation……

*Preferred pastrami condiment…..

*Fax:……. ………

*Telephone………….

*Ticket Numbers:……………

*Batch Numbers:…………

*Serial Numbers:…………

*Lucky Numbers:………….

Note:you are inform that the claim of your

winning should not exeed

more than one week or your sandwich will be quite moldy.

Sincerely,

Mrs. Finela Williams

Head Customer care Service

See you Wednesday!

With warm congratulations and sincere best wishes,

Your sandwich eating pal, Midnight Snack

How do I put it? Ummmm, gotten any awards lately?

Just happened to be standing in earshot recently and, whaddya know, I got an award. Well, it didn’t play out exactly like that, but within spitting distance. Somebody got an award, somebody went to a party. Not me though, nosirree bob.

Not that I’m complaining. Happy to be home in the evening, although I wouldn’t mind knowing when I had a hand in something that got notice. A person’s gotta wonder, after all these years – say, uh, 24, 25 – how many other awards got by her unmentioned. On the other hand, what was I gonna do with ’em preblog? To whom would I boast? And without the boast, does the award exist? If the statuette topples on a desktop after hours, does it make a sound?

I have seen it, been a while, but I have, I have, I have. Got the wiener whistles to prove it. Aaah, all right, they were sent to me from my Oscar-employed cousin. Have seen it though, hauling righteous ass down 95, clocking 85+, sailing by me. And parked once, out fronta the White House, on the Ellipse, dashboard a righteous mess. M-eh-ssssss. Looked to me like some outsider art car artiste was piloting that land yacht, piles ‘o detritus and voyageur’s ephemera strewn from side-view to side-view, dash nowhere to be seen.

I saw it! In the mail! Snail mail! Actual paper. How archaic, how positively earthbound, how sensuously reassuring. A paper cut upon opening. Actual blood. I got a card, a TV dinner card, from my friend. 33 1/3 sent it from Chicago. She sez her fridge sent the sticker to my fridge, but I believe there was human intervention, particularly in the task of stamp moistening. Thank you, from the bottom of my detritus-lovin’, earthbound, ephemera-filled heart.

Do so love the wiener mobile. The name itself incapsulates all that we need to love about human life. Wieners. So basic. So necessary. So essential to human drive. Mobile. Change. Movement. Possibility. So basic for humans to want to drive.

October 8, 2009, 2:57 PM
Ben Ali, King of the Half-Smoke, Is Dead at 82
By SAM SIFTON

There is perhaps no better way to end a punk-rock evening in Washington, D.C., than with a brisk walk up from the 9:30 Club to the bright lights of Ben’s Chili Bowl, home of the chili-laden half-smoke sausage, for a snack. (President Obama prefers it for lunch.) So it is with sad eyes that we report the death of Ben Ali, the Trinidad-born restaurant genius who founded the place in 1958. Order up!

He Added Spice to Our Lives
The Washington Post front page October 9, 2009

Just in from Lunch Encounter penpal David Kmetz:

I took advantage of an early departure from the outer end of Long Island yesterday to stop at a local farm stand I pass every time I visit and they had some monster heirloom tomatoes for sale. I believe these are “Marble Striped”, based on a good match to the photo in “The Heirloom Tomato – From Garden to Table” by Amy Goldman.

Addendum: It is “Marvel Striped”, not Marble Stripe. Still…. one great tom.

Here is my modest photo attempt at capturing the bounty – I picked up some great grape varieties too, as well as radishes. The farm stand is “Latham’s” at the end of the causeway heading towards Orient Point, NY. The yellow one at the bottom weighs in a 1 lb. 4 oz…

Attempting to capture bounty is futile, one would think. That’s just it about bounty, it cannot be corralled. Amplitude is its name, overflowing is its game. Gather ye tomatoes while ye may, and if it be near to a hard frost, take in the green ones. Down the basement, cover them with newspapers. And then comes winter.

Photo by Stacy Zarin, Foodstyling by Lisa Cherkasky, for Baltimore Magazine, with art direction from lovely Amanda White who knows enough to love Texas, the Texas that is Marfa. (Unrelatedly related….Oh bleh. There is a restaurant in NYC called Marfa. I shoulda known. Oh bleh. And the menu, to my quick-to-disdain taste, reads really dumb and broad. Is all of Texas bbq, fish tacos, biscuits and beer? No, no, no. Texas is as big as the moon, baby, and sweeps in a fistful of cultures.)

I know this tall stack ain’t no sandwich. However, Miss Shirley’s does serve a supercalifragilisticexpialidocious sandwich, and yes, I know that is a stupidcalifragilisticexpialidocious word. Nevertheless, my pride puffed a bit upon spelling it correctly on my first dashed off attempt. Whether you admit it or not, the word is fun to say, say you are of a certain perfect vintage, as am I. I admit it, shamelessly.

The first two clever and lucky brainiacs will each win a pair of tickets!!!That’s four, count ’em, four, tickets in all!!

Save the Deli!

SOLVE OUR STUMPER!

S O S

And win a pair of free tickets to:

In Search of Perfect Pastrami, Crusty Rye, and the Heart of Jewish Delicatessen

Wednesday, October 21, 7 pm

Sixth & I
600 I Street, NW – Washington, DC 20001

(Metro: Gallery Pl-Chinatown)

And now…. the stumper!

Put on your thinking caps and sharpen your Black Warrior.

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A vegetarian sailor is shipwrecked but manages to swim to a nearby island. He knows that on this island are two groups of natives: The cheese sandwich eaters who always tell the truth, and the ham sandwich eaters who always lie.

He stumbles onto the beach at night, barely alive, and bumps into an islander. Nearly starved, the sailor is looking for a cheese sandwich.  He asks the islander if he is a vegetarian or not. The man mumbles a response that the sailor can’t make out, so he asks again. To the sailor’s left, another man responds “He said he’s a cheese sandwich eater, but he’s not.” Then from the sailor’s right a woman calls out “No, he said he’s a ham sandwich eater, but he’s not. ”

What dietary rules do all three of these islanders follow? Which ones eat cheese sandwiches and which ones eat ham sandwiches? From whom can the vegetarian sailor get a bite to eat?

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Work it out – QUICK – and get back to me asap. The first correct answer wins a pair of tickets to:

In Search of Perfect Pastrami, Crusty Rye, and the Heart of Jewish Delicatessen

An Evening with David Sax

As a life-long deli obsessive, David Sax was understandably alarmed by the state of Jewish delicatessen – a cuisine that once sat at the very center of Jewish life had become endangered by assimilation and health food trends. And so Sax set out on a journey around the world in search of authentic delicatessen. As chronicled in his new book, Sax investigates everything deli – how it’s made, who makes it best, and where to go for particular dishes.

Sax will speak about how Jewish people view deli cuisine in relation to their health, weight, and bodies. Todd Kliman, Food and Wine Editor and Restaurant Critic for The Washingtonian, will interview Sax to uncover if it is still possible to save the deli. Join this rallying cry for a new generation of food lovers, and sample some classic deli fare while you’re at it.

S O S

SAVE OUR SANDWICHES!

Katz’s pastrami

And boys will be boys. Boy, will they. Until they are men, and then men will be boys. Not to put too fine a point on it. An hour meeting with the school counselor will certainly put a fine point on my parenting weak spots. The cracks, crevasses, Achilles’ heels, fears and intense love that all guide and misguide my motherself. Time to come down hard on that boy. I was told, and I will follow.

Mothers will be mothers. Don’t push me, cause I’m telling you, I can be a mother of a mother.

Positive reinforcement is a sanctified technique. He will do anything for bacon. The question is: Will he NOT do anything for bacon? You know, there is “start behavior” and “stop behavior”. If I put a little bacon under the pillow, would he make his bed with gladness in his heart? If I were to withhold bacon, would he talk to me with a tone of gladness in his heart?

Is that child reaching for romaine? A fake out, no doubt. Some sort of ploy to finagle one more ounce of flesh from his mother’s heart.

Who you callin’ a baconheart? Me? You callin’ me a baconheart? Yes, I do have a righteous soft spot for a boy who will not behave.

On a separate, but closely related, topic, the title of my next book will be “Women Who Love Men Who Love Guitars”. Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be geetarplayers. Bacon Achin, Guitar Lovin’ Guitar Players in particular.

BERLIN JOURNAL

Ovens on Feet Beckon Germans to Bratwurst

By Nicholas Kulish

(Heavens to Betsy, this thing looks like it really does have feet, in shoes, on heels.)

Jürgen Stiller regularly stands outside Berlin’s historic Friedrichstrasse train station with a four-pound canister of flammable propane strapped to his back. But if a police officer approaches him, it is only to buy one of the hot bratwurst sizzling on the flaming grill suspended from his shoulders.

Read on here.

Oh, to encounter a grillwalker near home. A bratwurst makes us lose our minds!