Tuesday, July 20, 2004
People and stone! People and stone!
New York trip: Part 1
About a month ago, I returned to the place of my mysterious origin: Long Island, NY. It was a pretty busy trip, jam-packed with reveling in cousinly graduations, visiting friends in the city, and doing research at the museum, all while trying to fit innumerable hours of playing Super Smash Bros. Melee with my brothers. There were a number of events in this trip worthy of commentary. Today I’ll be covering just a few of them.
Delis
I try not to be one of those guys who say that everything from New York is better than everything else, especially as, having only lived the first third of my life in the Empire State, my own claims to noviyorkian superiority are limited at best. Whenever I can, I take a pluralistic stance. For example, it is true that the best pizza in the world is found in New York. However, I also cherish the circular, tomato-and-cheese-laden Italian-American dish endemic to Chicago. This dish, strangely enough, is also called “pizza.” This is clearly not the pizza familiar to my forefathers, but I have come to accept it as a beloved addition to the global menu all the same. To say that New York pizza is somehow superior to Chicago pizza would be patent foolishness. Comparing the two is like comparing chocolate mousse to a slab of fudge, both have their place in the pantheon of deliciosity, and each can be appropriate depending on the situation. To further compare, the Chicago skyline is more aesthetically pleasing than that of New York’s, but the latter has a sheer majesty that is difficult to deny. Bringing in some other American metropolises, let me say that the Miami club scene buries both of the aforementioned. And, none of those cities can compare to Austin, TX’s, er…um…urban bat population. It’s simply huge. That said, there is one area where New York is so definitively superior that any attempt to replicate its success elsewhere is little better than a farce. I speak here of the delicatessen. I’m sorry, other states, you just can’t do it. Stop trying. It is all the more painful to hunger for a good deli sandwich (as I constantly do) when surrounded with sad pretenders to the throne! My love of a delicatessen is gauged by how much I abbreviate the word. As such, I have not found a “deli” outside of New York. The best I’ve yet found in Chicago was barely worth the title of “delicat.” Near my cousin’s house, however, is an eatery so near to my heart that I would call it half a “D” if that were pronounceable. Because it isn’t, it is referred to simply as “The Del.” A week does not go by when my stomach does not lament its distance from The Del. For The Del makes the best version of what may well be the greatest sandwich ever invented by mankind. A sandwich so good, I couldn’t be entirely sure of its reality the first time I ate it. Like the Broodwich, only real, and free of the unfortunate side effects. Check it: hot chicken cutlets covered in melted mozzarella. That right there is a pretty tight sandwich, if somewhat trite, but it doesn’t stop there. Oh, no, add the requisite lettuce, tomato, and mayo, and then wrap it all in bacon! Put it on a garlic bread hoagie, and drench it in butter. They call it The Lumberjack, or, as we affectionately refer to it, the “Lumbie.” I always thought that there was a limit to great ingredients you could put in a sandwich, as if they were unstable elements ready to explode. “No, you fool! You can’t add bacon AND garlic! You’ll kill us all!” Thank goodness New York’s delingineers threw caution to the wind in crafting subs so good they should be illegal. Best of all, unlike the subject of last week’s gastronomic hagiography (Twee Bangkok chicken, that is), the Lumberjack is still available to those that seek it out. Buy a ticket to ISLIP now, now I say! You know your palate tires of the PBJs…it HUNGERS…for more.
KOTOR
At the start of this entry, I mentioned that I had tried to incorporate plentiful Smash Brothery into my trip. I was successful, although not to the extent that I had intended. The reason for this lapse is a little game called KOTOR. As I’m sure all you nerds (and really, who else would be reading this?) already know, that’s Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic. Like many, my faith in the Star Wars universe has taken pretty major blows of late. I will not waste any more digital ink on describing how much Episodes I and II sucked. God knows there’s been enough of that already. Suffice it to say that I didn’t think anything could make me break away from my “the original trilogy is all I’ll ever need” policy. Then along comes KOTOR and says, “Hey! Remember when Jedi were something more than glorified hall monitors?” And I say, “No.” And then KOTOR’s all like, “Well, strap in, buckaroo, ‘cause your mind’s about to be blown.” And sure enough, a good time was had by all. It’s like a Star Wars fan’s wildest dreams come true. Fightin’ rancors! Bangin’ twi’leks! Partyin’ with the Sith! Perhaps I should say that again: PARTYIN’ WITH THE SITH! Naturally, I went Dark Side right off the bat. And, much to my delight, this game realizes that no matter how big or small the situation, there’s nothing that can’t be improved with a little evil. The whole spectrum of potential misdeeds is there, from ruining someone’s dance audition to wiping out whole civilizations. All things considered: fun, fun, fun in the sun, sun, sun.
This would normally be the point where I note the blatant geekery of my previous statements and chastise myself for it, but by now I think that it’s pretty obvious. Rest assured that there will be autoflagellation to atone for it.
Coming soon: The unbelievable Part 2 of NY Trip 2004! Museums! Los Lobos! The return of Chtylok! Stay tuned!
New York trip: Part 1
About a month ago, I returned to the place of my mysterious origin: Long Island, NY. It was a pretty busy trip, jam-packed with reveling in cousinly graduations, visiting friends in the city, and doing research at the museum, all while trying to fit innumerable hours of playing Super Smash Bros. Melee with my brothers. There were a number of events in this trip worthy of commentary. Today I’ll be covering just a few of them.
Delis
I try not to be one of those guys who say that everything from New York is better than everything else, especially as, having only lived the first third of my life in the Empire State, my own claims to noviyorkian superiority are limited at best. Whenever I can, I take a pluralistic stance. For example, it is true that the best pizza in the world is found in New York. However, I also cherish the circular, tomato-and-cheese-laden Italian-American dish endemic to Chicago. This dish, strangely enough, is also called “pizza.” This is clearly not the pizza familiar to my forefathers, but I have come to accept it as a beloved addition to the global menu all the same. To say that New York pizza is somehow superior to Chicago pizza would be patent foolishness. Comparing the two is like comparing chocolate mousse to a slab of fudge, both have their place in the pantheon of deliciosity, and each can be appropriate depending on the situation. To further compare, the Chicago skyline is more aesthetically pleasing than that of New York’s, but the latter has a sheer majesty that is difficult to deny. Bringing in some other American metropolises, let me say that the Miami club scene buries both of the aforementioned. And, none of those cities can compare to Austin, TX’s, er…um…urban bat population. It’s simply huge. That said, there is one area where New York is so definitively superior that any attempt to replicate its success elsewhere is little better than a farce. I speak here of the delicatessen. I’m sorry, other states, you just can’t do it. Stop trying. It is all the more painful to hunger for a good deli sandwich (as I constantly do) when surrounded with sad pretenders to the throne! My love of a delicatessen is gauged by how much I abbreviate the word. As such, I have not found a “deli” outside of New York. The best I’ve yet found in Chicago was barely worth the title of “delicat.” Near my cousin’s house, however, is an eatery so near to my heart that I would call it half a “D” if that were pronounceable. Because it isn’t, it is referred to simply as “The Del.” A week does not go by when my stomach does not lament its distance from The Del. For The Del makes the best version of what may well be the greatest sandwich ever invented by mankind. A sandwich so good, I couldn’t be entirely sure of its reality the first time I ate it. Like the Broodwich, only real, and free of the unfortunate side effects. Check it: hot chicken cutlets covered in melted mozzarella. That right there is a pretty tight sandwich, if somewhat trite, but it doesn’t stop there. Oh, no, add the requisite lettuce, tomato, and mayo, and then wrap it all in bacon! Put it on a garlic bread hoagie, and drench it in butter. They call it The Lumberjack, or, as we affectionately refer to it, the “Lumbie.” I always thought that there was a limit to great ingredients you could put in a sandwich, as if they were unstable elements ready to explode. “No, you fool! You can’t add bacon AND garlic! You’ll kill us all!” Thank goodness New York’s delingineers threw caution to the wind in crafting subs so good they should be illegal. Best of all, unlike the subject of last week’s gastronomic hagiography (Twee Bangkok chicken, that is), the Lumberjack is still available to those that seek it out. Buy a ticket to ISLIP now, now I say! You know your palate tires of the PBJs…it HUNGERS…for more.
KOTOR
At the start of this entry, I mentioned that I had tried to incorporate plentiful Smash Brothery into my trip. I was successful, although not to the extent that I had intended. The reason for this lapse is a little game called KOTOR. As I’m sure all you nerds (and really, who else would be reading this?) already know, that’s Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic. Like many, my faith in the Star Wars universe has taken pretty major blows of late. I will not waste any more digital ink on describing how much Episodes I and II sucked. God knows there’s been enough of that already. Suffice it to say that I didn’t think anything could make me break away from my “the original trilogy is all I’ll ever need” policy. Then along comes KOTOR and says, “Hey! Remember when Jedi were something more than glorified hall monitors?” And I say, “No.” And then KOTOR’s all like, “Well, strap in, buckaroo, ‘cause your mind’s about to be blown.” And sure enough, a good time was had by all. It’s like a Star Wars fan’s wildest dreams come true. Fightin’ rancors! Bangin’ twi’leks! Partyin’ with the Sith! Perhaps I should say that again: PARTYIN’ WITH THE SITH! Naturally, I went Dark Side right off the bat. And, much to my delight, this game realizes that no matter how big or small the situation, there’s nothing that can’t be improved with a little evil. The whole spectrum of potential misdeeds is there, from ruining someone’s dance audition to wiping out whole civilizations. All things considered: fun, fun, fun in the sun, sun, sun.
This would normally be the point where I note the blatant geekery of my previous statements and chastise myself for it, but by now I think that it’s pretty obvious. Rest assured that there will be autoflagellation to atone for it.
Coming soon: The unbelievable Part 2 of NY Trip 2004! Museums! Los Lobos! The return of Chtylok! Stay tuned!
Comments:
Post a Comment
