Toast Poast Number Ba2+ + 2 H2PO2- + 2 H3O+ + SO42- => BaSO4 + 2 H3PO2 + 2 H2O

Screen Shot 2013-10-28 at 9.22.03 AMNot so very long ago we spent an afternoon at AwesomeConDC, something I could have NEVER foreseen pre-parent-of-a-son-hood, and ran into Liz and Jimmy Reed of Cuddles and Rage, a “disturblingly cute comic”.

CuddleFood + comics? We  find that combo funny and find ourselves disturbed by overuse of the word cute. “Isn’t that just so cute?” is a phrase kiboshed long ago by my all-knowing teen. As for cuddles and rage? Both are embraced, absorbed, resisted and vaporized in this toasty household. I’ll take the cuddles and forgive the rage. 
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Creating Desire, Morning, Noon and Night

Last weekend in Boston the Transcultural Exchange hosted the 2013 Conference on International Opportunities in the Arts, themed Engaging Minds. The panel entitled Food as an Art Form included me. I was nervous as hell.
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At a cocktail reception, Friday night, the night before I was slated to speak, I engaged with a man who was, oddly enough, neither an artist nor a person offering opportunities to artists. Wonder of wonders, he was a food dude. Swiss, sharp, sophisticated, part scientist, part entrepreneur, an embracer of ideas and thinker of big thoughts.

Me? Conflicted, struggling with my outlier status as a food stylist. I walk the line, often leaping into the advertising/PR mosh pit. Is it art? Nope. AN art? Yep. A little shop talk tracking the Venn diagram of the business of food and the art of food and the business of both sparked the man’s remark that what we do is “create desire.” Ding ding ding ding! Gongs bonged in my head.

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Francesco Panese, Associate Professor of Social Studies of Science and Medicine in the Lausanne University and consultant to Nestlé, gave me that strap from which to hang and hang on tight I did, swinging from art to food to business to deception to art to food to consumption to art to food to…you get the train here. For those of us (ME! ME! ME!) who are fascinated by how food defines, connects, divides and consumes us, the panel was fascinating. Thank you, Mr. Panese. I will always remember my ultimate intent while at work, to create desire.

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Border Patrol

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50 States, 50 Sandwiches

The borders are brackish. As are the interiors.

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Bless their Zagaty hearts, they are talking about sandwiches!

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Every state has its own specialty dishes, but it’s often the unique regional sandwiches you find all around the U.S. that best embody the spirit of each community and its local cuisine. August is National Sandwich Month, so what better time to take a look at the 50 States of America and the delicious regional sandwiches found in each? (We also included Washington, DC – bonus sandwich!)

August is only ten months away. Never too early to think sandwich.

Not to put too fine a point on it, a point cannot be put on it – boundaries are grey, particularly when it comes to food. As fun as it is to claim a food as unique to a region, the exercise seems nearly pointless to me.  My four cents.

States are varied. And their boundaries merge. The  pork tenderloin sandwich  is an Indiana thing. And an Iowa thing, but not so much. The St Paul, now that is strictly defined as St Louisian, no question. But the pasty, unique to Michigan? My home state, Wisconsin, claims it too, a piece of their Cornish immigrant mining legacy.

No matter the locale, we lust for food that defines us, our terroir, our history. While merging into a homogenous mass, we simultaneously hone the cultures that define us.  Sandwiches waft the smells of food, region, home, across all borders!

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La Caraquena

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Northern Virginia, kind of a non-place with no actual towns, just areas, is a dynamite place to eat. To eat anything. Except maybe soup dumplings. I have not seen them around here. Arepas, something delicious I have only found in NYC to date, are here, in Falls Church, just a skip of a drive from DC, and Falls Church is a town, sorta.
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La Caraqueña is in a grievous little motel and I like that. Snugged in with white curlicue iron work.  Inside, corn flour walls, ultramarine booths and a waiter with a head of hair so gorgeously black and sleek it could have been made of petroleum.

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When was the last time you saw arepas on a menu? Right. Me neither.

Keith at Caraquena

Goes down nicely with beer. The beers here are not your typical beers.
Cristal (Peru)
Suprema (El Salvador)
Palma Louca (Brasil)
Xingu Black Beer (Brasil)
See?

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Diputado

Briskly sautéed sirloin slivers under a runny-yolked fried egg, tomato and caramelized onions.

Quick! Name three things that are not improved by a fried egg. Thought so, I can’t do it either.

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Sifrina

Chicken salad with lots of avocado and a cloud of shredded cheese. 

Keith chose fried not grilled. Ahhh Repahhhhh was it good. Slippery little devil too. Greased lightening. NOW I get it, why a person might dream of an arepa.

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Spoken Through Lips Greased By Pastrami

From MMSMINYJAF (My-Main-Sandwich-Man-in-NY, JAF) who has his fingers on the pulse of pastrami. At Katz’s Delicatessen the pulse is hoppin’! Bauer and Dean Publishers have gotten the sacred word from the whispering pickles.

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The pictures in this tome are almost as nice as the ones I took when there with MMSMINY a few years ago.

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Photographs by Baldomero Fernandez, text by Jake Dell, edited by Beth Daugherty

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Supersandperlativewich

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Stopping by the Lunch Encounter for a kibbitz…the Kitchensquater! We kept him out of the kitchen but did allow him to pivot on a stool and reminisce about his school days in Providence RI, home to Geoff’s Superlative Sandwiches.

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Besides the iconic lobster roll of summer, the sandwich that sticks in my craw from all those years ago at RISD is “Tosh’s Twister” made by Geoff’s Superlative Sandwiches on Benefit Street in Providence.

It was/ is sort of a take on a Reuben, with smoked turkey standing in for the corned beef. If memory serves, it was the smoked turk, melted swiss, sauerkraut, Shed’s hot sauce and romaine on a thick rye cut heated up in the steam presses they still use today at the shop. An early type of panini press, only without the grill plates, just steam and heat.

Made my eyes tear (in a good way…) and I cut through all that fat, protein and flavor with a Dr. Pepper.

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A Winning Hand

So many sandwiches in  all our pasts. What do we remember and can we choose? I think yes. The cards you were dealt are played, for heaven sakes. Do you remember them as winners?  Color me Dr. Norman Vincent Peale. Geez, yeah, every Reuben was the best Reuben ever!

In an effort to increase the odds of winning, pick a hand that includes the Four-Meat Grinder at Stachowski’s, the Chicken Shawarma at Shawafel, a Meatball Sub at Red Apron Butcher, Bayou Bakery‘s Muff-A-Lotta…

Eat slowly, let the memory imbed, rejoice in your good fortune, live in the past positive and the present perfect. All so perfectly imperfectly handfilling.

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Renee Comet took the pictures of these sandwiches and I did the styling. All day long the studio door swung wide and in would swing sandwich upon sandwich upon fantabulous sandwich.

Yow, those wiches were good. Every one a winner. Trophies all around, people! Did I remember to thank my lucky stars for work, worthwhile and wonderful work? Yes. Sandwiches past, present and future, deal me in.
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Miércoles Gigante

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The hoisting of the torta was surprisingly invigorating. Whew, it was heavy. Like, super heavy.

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All that stuff was in there, but it did not stay in there. Bits and pieces shot out onto my shoes, lap, arms, face. I believe the carne asada was the most egregious offender, although I can’t be sure.

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This half – a half bigger than most wholes – went home.

Taco Bamba Taqueria

Taco Bamba Tacqueria is in a little strip mall that notes all the mini-mall touchstones – karate studio, rug store, closed dry-cleaner – just behind the Tyson’s Corner Whole Foods. It’s a snap to reach off 66.

My hope is that Victor Albisu will choose South Arlington (my home) for a location to be opened soon. We could lug a torta on our shoulders and have a ‘hood feast. Bring your saw.

Go Small and Go Home (to savor your insignificance)

Packing up one bowl, one spoon, a bit of teensy toast and hotfootin’ it to a tiny house.

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When you live in a tiny house 83% of all consumables can be artificial, due to energy conserved. You need not move much, nor eat much – all needs are within arm’s reach and eye’s view.

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Go Big and Go Home (to ponder your insignificance)

I wasn’t aware that it had gone away...

The return of the Super-Colossal Economy-Size Sandwich

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Super Colossal Architects

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We humans love giganticness. My theory is, the bigger the sandwich the tinier we feel, the tinier we feel the freer we become. Colossally free. 

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Thank you, Inspector Lewis.