THE GURGLING COD

Further Savannah intel for #SEA13... with Blind item!

Continuing with the Savannah intel from prevous:

A noted Southern food person mentions Local 11Ten, Back in the Day Bakery,  and Despositos for fried seafood.

And, to my astonishment, had nothing but love for the fried chicken at Lady and Sond

Visit Savannah rec'd these spots: 

@CafeFlorie, The Crab Shack (Tybee), A.lure, Crystal Beer Parlor, Leopold's, Elizabeth on 37th, Goosefeathers, B Matthews…

Feel free to chime in with ideas, or to contradict this advice. Esp interested in non-hotel bars. 

Because you can't spell "G-Funk Era" without "Giardiniera"

While you wait for the UPS man to bring your Sweet & Sassy Mix, you might give this giardiniera receipt from G&G a whirl. The Cochon muffaletta is the truth, and may, in some situations, edge out the legendary Central Grocery standardbearer. Some of these situations would include wanting to sit down while you eat, having this sandwich on a Sunday, etc. The puree at the end seems smoother than you want, but in terms of sandwich architecture, makes some sense. 

As for the title of this post, some may wonder - is it still the G-Funk Era? Until Warren G tells us different, the G-Funk Era it remains: 

Rick's Picks went on down to the Audubon Zoo...

Some news that is news to RP outsiders like the Cod - a new jawn from the folks at Rick's Picks: Giardiniera. To clarify, it is not a pickled Yankee manager, because that would be cruel. To allay rumors, it is not a pickled genus of anerobic flagellated protozoans. It is, in reality, a pickled vegetable mix. 

It is, as it happens, the key ingredient in the Only Sandwich That Matters, commonly termed the Muffuletta or Muffaletta. That guy who rapped w/DJ Code Money spelled his name different ways too. To create the muffuletta not on Decatur St, and indeed, not even in the 504, would be a literally Promethian feat, if Prometheus had had the good sense to steal a delicious and robust sandwich from the gods.

Bread is critical, but can be done at home -- could Sweet and Sassy Mix be the key that unlocks the mystery of the muffalletta? Time will reveal. While you wait for the UPS man to bring you some, a different kind of sweet and sassy mix from the geniuses at Sparkle Motion. 

Preliminary Savannah Intel #SEA13

Not much of a clamor of response to the Cod's repeated pleas for Savannah food ideas, other than give Lady & Sons a wide berth. I guess you can be the charming coastal town that right now the food version of Seattle ca. 1993, musicwise, or you can be charming coastalish town that is the setting for a film starring Kevin Spacey. Swings and roundabouts, as they say. 

Old Cod fave Vinnie Van Go Go's appears to be holding it down, (cash only y'all)  and FOC Brevet Captain suggests

Circa 1875,

Angels BBQ,

B. Matthew's and

Moon River. 

In case you wonder why the interest in Savannah, folks from the Cod's day job will be gathering there to talk about stuff. Bear in mind, it's not the best town to meet empathic female companions: 

 

Pizza hut makes Friday feel like Monday

 
So, Pizza Hut Pizza Sliders. If you like playing tic-tac-toe with little tubs of cheese slurry, this is the pizza for you. Beyond the Taco Town-esque impulse to recombine disparate fast food concepts in defiance of logic, taste, and good common stense, the Big Pizza Slider makes it clear that American fast food is rapidly approaching its logical denoument in the form of compulsory ball gags filled with ranch dressing. 

Fast food -- not so fresh, after all

An interesting, if TL;DR discussion of the word "fresh" in fast food marketing. If you don't have time to read, you can a) see the tag for this post, or watch this commercial:

 

Maws- 2, Storm- Nil, or Chefs, where is your peopleshed?

So, Craigie on Main is open again tonight with a $39 special -- one better than a .38 special, for sure. It's interesting that placees that I know of that are open are neighborhood focused* (COM, Northern Spy in NYC), while the places that are shut, (too many to name) are not, by and large. It's not as if the Spies or Maws' guys are foraging lichen in the snow for tonight's meal, but it does raise a question about restaurants that is broader. We've all been talking for a long time about food miles, and foodsheds, etc. True enough, but this food does not a) cook itself or b) eat itself. If we care about sustainability (a strong maybe, maybe?), it seems worth it to add where cooks and servers come from, and how they get to the restaurant, and where customers come from, and how they get to the restaurant. 

A restaurant that's not snowed in today got me thinking about this back in December. At my last meal at Husk, it seemed as if a large proportion of the patrons were eating there either as their first stop after getting off an airplane, or their last stop before getting on an airplane (there was luggage to be wrangled in the foyer). I like Sean Brock's food, and I'm glad the restaurant is successful, and is getting the buzz it warrants. However, given Brock's local focus, it's ironic that the equation has shifted from flying the food to the people to flying the people to the food. I guess what I'm trying to say is, Hold On Loosely: 

*Yes, COM is expensive, and NS ain't cheap, but then, they're located in pretty pricey neighborhoods. Indeed, the great thing about the $39 special is that it gives a chance for folks who are within walking/mushing/XC distance to eat in a non-birthday/anniversary moment. 

Williams-Sonoma and Occam's Razor

It is becoming increasingly self-evident that the entire Agrarian line from Williams-Sonoma is an elaborate trans-media prank foisted on our inboxes by Carrie Brownstein and Fred Armisen in their capacity as the stars of Portlandia.  It is the most logical explanation for this: 

Hungry in the 617?

Tony Maws grew up in New England, and is not afraid of the snow. COM is doing it old school, for what is a felony steal of a price. In addition to being a badass chef, Tony Maws is a island of Yankee resolve in an ocean of restaurant bitchassery. 

Southern Strokes?

Another moment in the history of pop epidemiology, from the folks who tell you that moviegoers are 2x more likely to die of a heart attack b/c of buttery topping: 

Traditional Southern diets may be linked to a higher risk of stroke, a researcher said at a conference on Thursday.

The lead researcher, Suzanne Judd, a nutritional epidemiologist at the University of Alabama, said her study is the first large-scale effort to look at stroke and a diet of such foods as fried chicken and fish, bacon, ham and sweet teas.

 “Fatty foods are high in cholesterol, sugary drinks are linked to diabetes and salty foods lead to high blood pressure,” Judd said in a statement. Those are all factors in the risk ofcardiovascular disease.

So, news flash, fatty foods are bad for you. But the definition of "Southern" and the definition of "traditional" seems a little bit, erm unscientific: 

Her study involved more than 20,000 whites and African Americans age 45 and older who underwent medical assessments and answered questions about their eating habits and health in 2003 to 2007. People who ate traditional Southern diets lived in various places, but about two-thirds of them lived in the southeastern United States, Judd said.

Previous research has shown that Southerners are about 20% more likely to have a stroke than people who live in the rest of the country. Judd’s work found that stroke frequency was proportional to consumption of Southern food.

Granted, it's a newspaper article about a scientific study, not an article in a medical journal, but the science seems kind of wack, in that "Southern food," for the purposes of the study, appear to be "food we already knew is bad for you. But, you know, just to be on the safe side, lay off the okra, collards and benne wafers.

It's worth noting that the lead author of this study is at the University of Alabama, which suggests that the clumsy deployment of the notion of "Southern food" may be a function of a reluctance to consult the experts on traditional food, who are of course at Ole Miss.