Our immigrant neighbors have taught us to love tacos. They’ve introduced us to gorditas, and roti, chapatis and naan, bao and banh mi and pitas and lavash and much, much more; and for all these carb-loaded delights we are much in their debt.
Now say hello to the Venezuelan arepa, yet another appealing way to enclose something good to eat within a tasty wrapper, a hand-held treat that long pre-dates the invention of Lord John Montagu, fourth Earl of Sandwich. Continue reading Arepas y mas! Nahyla’s brings us Venezuelan delights
Ahh, Loui Loui’s! Or Louie Louie! Delicious Detroit-style pizza or briefly controversial rock classic of the ‘60s. I love them both, don’t you? Continue reading Loui Loui’s, oh no, me gotta go
“On the road again” … “En la carretera nuevamente …” Hmm. Willie Nelson’s classic ballad doesn’t translate very well, rhythmically speaking. You just can’t make the syllables fit the notes. But that’s not important right now. What’s important right now is Mexican food, because it’s filling and spicy and delicious.
I like Mexican food, and I like languages, and I’ve still got a lot to learn about both things. But there’s always room for more learning, both in the food department and the linguistic department. Like most Americans — er, Norteamericanos, that is — my language skills are weak.
“Eureka,” I said, an exclamation that works in English, Spanish and Greek. “Why don’t I go eat at some Mexican restaurants? I can practice my Spanish on the servers!”
Continue reading On the Mexican road again …
I can’t resist mentioning this briefly, since my mini-report on the HotBytes forum and Facebook on New Year’s Day blew up with “Likes” and comments, hinting that there’s public interest in this bizarre development: White Castle, at least for a while, now offers a veggie burger, of all things. They’re only 99 cents each, cheap, but like their meatful siblings, it takes a few to satisfy an appetite.
Continue reading Signs of the apocalypse: The White Castle veggie slider
“Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast.” Or maybe “beast.” Everybody thinks the Bard wrote this, but it was actually William Congreve, a decidedly lesser poet who lived a century or so after Bill Shakspear trod the boards.
My breast was savage, and so was my beast, the other day. I was crabby. I’ll admit it. And I showed few signs of getting better. What was gnawing at my liver? Let me count the ways. (The Bard really did say that.)
Continue reading Brasserie Provence soothes the savage critic
If you’ve been reading my gustatory musings for any time, you know that I bring a strong locavore sensibility to this work. I like to eat local food, and I prefer to dine at local restaurants. When I do business with a bank, grocer, optician, investment adviser, newspaper and, most definitely, restaurant, I like to know that the owner herself is available for a conversation, will look me in the eye, shake my hand, and offer me a fair deal.
Continue reading This locavore makes an exception for Noodles & Company