Iron Bar NYC (713 8th Ave and 45th Street, Times Square)

I'm posting reviews and pics from our weekend trip to New York City a little out of order. Not that anybody cares...

On Saturday afternoon we had a hard out for a 2 PM show of HAMILTON at the Richard Rodgers Theater in order to fulfill a Christmas wish for our daughter. (Little did I know how much I would love the show!)

After doing a walking tour of Colonial Manhattan that involved the Stock Exchange, Federal Hall, 9/11 Memorial, Trinity Church and more we made a reservation at Heartland Brewery and Chophouse while we headed back to Times Square. Wondering if we'd have enough time to have a sit down lunch and make it to the show in plenty of time we decided to cancel and head to someplace closer to the theater for lunch before the show.

Unfortunately, Union Square Burger didn't open till 1 PM and the other place we scoped out didn't do much for the group so we headed down the street to Shake Shack, figuring if we didn't see anything appealing on the way we'd be happy with this old standby.

It wasn't long till we crossed in front of Iron Bar and decided we'd give it a try.

"We can be out within an hour, right?," we asked as we met the hostess. "We need to leave for the theater by 1:30..."

"Sure!," she replied with confidence.

I have to admit, we loved the look and vibe of the place. A dark but not impenetrable atmosphere, cool high tops with tables made of pipe and tabletops that looked aged from use, an endless line of taps featuring some of my favorite beers including Dale's Pale Ale.

Alas, the place was sorta hit or miss for our group. My burger – a midwest-inspired Juicy Lucy – was dynamite and tasted like the burgers my Mom cooked when I was a kid. The rest of our group didn’t fare quite as well as medium rare burgers were all super rare in the center and it took a good half hour  (!) to get our food while others who were seated well after us all got their lunches.

Great beer selection,  awesome Juicy Lucy and a cool vibe definitely help offset the crummy service and inconsistent cook on the burgers. Unfortunately, it all adds up to a three pint rating despite an excellent lunch for The Hungover Gourmet. – Dan Taylor

Dan Taylor is the editor/publisher of The Hungover Gourmet and he loves him a burger and some Dale's Pale Ale.

In Their Defense Homer Simpson is VP of In-Flight Meals

A budget UK airline (try telling me those aren't three words aren't terrifying!) apologized to Jewish passengers after loading a flight bound for Tel Aviv with ham and bacon baguettes instead of the standard kosher food.

I couldn't help but be reminded of this classic exchange from The Simpsons...

LISA: “I’m going to become a vegetarian”
HOMER: “Does that mean you’re not going to eat any pork?”
LISA: “Yes”
HOMER: “Bacon?”
LISA: “Yes Dad”
HOMER: "Ham?”
LISA: “Dad all those meats come from the same animal”
HOMER: “Right Lisa, some wonderful, magical animal!”

Maybe Homer got a job working for Easy Jet.

Go That Way Really Fast... If Something Gets in Your Way, Turn

Editor's Note: We don't normally feature a lot of movie reviews on The Hungover Gourmet but when the back-country ski documentary INTREPID DESCENT landed in our mailbox it seemed like a good fit. One, I'm sure many of our readers enjoy skiing and other outdoor winter activities. And, two, our own Beer Snob (aka Bryan Senn) is an avid skier who I knew would give this doc the proper look-see. For more from Bryan, check out his writings in THG #10 and 11, both available from our on-line store.

Full disclosure time: I've been a hardcore skier for nearly four decades, and I've no time for that newfangled "sport" of snowboarding, even though I do realize it has come a long way from its obnoxious "Dude-itude" beginnings, and that even grounded adults partake these days (one of my best ski-buddies is actually a boarder, and my own teenage son has gone to the Dark Side by abandoning the grace and beauty of twin boards for the dubious "thrills" of skateboard-on-ice). Hell, I've even tried it myself (though by noon I'd tired of boarding the blues and strapped my skis back on for some serious fun). So you'll forgive me if I've become hyper-aware of the fact that nowadays any "ski" movie seemingly devotes at least half its running time to snowboarding party tricks. Consequently, the inner skier in me was immensely gratified that this INTREPID DESCENT was taken solely by skiers, with the infrequent boarder seen only as background filler.

Ok, now on to the movie. Having logged my fair share of back-country hikes to score that elusive perfect powder field or tree run (from Crystal Mountain, Washington, to Jackson Hole, Wyoming, to St. Johann, Austria), I can certainly relate to a movie subtitled Exploring Tuckerman Ravine, the Mecca of Backcountry Extreme Skiing. What took me totally by surprise was the fact that this film detailed the history, subculture and thrills of a particular extreme skiers' mecca in New Hampshire! Located just below the summit of the tallest peak in New England, the Tuckerman Ravine area has been drawing "extreme" skiers to its steep slopes since the 1920s.

Without glossing over the dangers (people have died on this mountain), the film refreshingly focuses more on the dedicated skier out to challenge him or herself rather than on the handful of elite cliff-jumping thrillseekers who populate Warren Miller highlight reels. Consequently, it's a movie that becomes far more identifiable – and real – for the viewer. We witness the initial uncertainty, hesitation, and outright anxiety of skiers unsure of just what's below them, followed by the "aw hell, let's just go" spring-into-action moment that all backcountry skiers know – and love – so well. Filmmakers Erik Osterholm and Zander Hartung find just the right mix of talking heads to punctuate their beautiful photography of the sometimes breathtaking and sometimes daunting mountain, mingling the thoughts of the "average joe" skier there to pursue their personal best with the comments of several "experts" (one of whom candidly admits to experiencing real fear). But perhaps the jewels in this cinematic crown are the fascinating snippets of archival footage of skiers from decades long past who accepted this challenge equipped with nothing more than edgeless boards and bear-trap bindings!

I have only two complaints. First, while watching, I rarely felt I was actually there. Missing are shots looking down the mountain to bring home the adrenaline rush of standing on – and descending – a 55-degree slope. And there's no "ski-cam" footage that would have brought home the immediacy – and thrill – of the descent. But given the low-budget, labor-of-love nature of the project, this criticism may be on the unfair side. Second, at 26 minutes long, the movie is simply too short. I wanted to see and learn more about this fascinating little corner of the skiing world that comes complete with its own local subculture.

Still, INTREPID DESECENT remains a tasty appetizer that, for me, serves its purpose by 1) making me ache to hit the slopes again; and 2) causing me – a native West-Coaster – to consider for the first time that there might actually be some real skiing to be had on the East Coast. Amazing. — Bryan Senn

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Back from Vacation, THG #11 in Hand!

While I wish I could say I was happy to be back from our vacation on LBI, I promise I won't lie to you. The sun, sand and surf were great, providing many relaxing hours on the beach, collecting shells with Ryan, playing in the sand with her and her cousins, hanging out and having a good time.

As in past years, it seems like the food we made at the house trumped anything we ordered out, especially a phenomenal night of surf & turf featuring grilled tuna steaks, barbecued spareribs, my father-in-law's to-die-for potato salad, and a wonderful calabrese salad featuring ripe Jersey tomatoes.

Alas, I did not get back to the Terrace Tavern for my beloved Terrace Stacker, but with a couple more trips before the fall settles in I should have a few opportunities to get there for a return visit.

Today, it's back to the grind... I just spent what felt like an hour cleaning up the yard after last night's brief, but powerful, summer storm and the dentist awaits. Customer orders need to be placed, voicemails have to be logged, and a layout for a client mailer needs to be, well, laid out.

But before I saddle up and begin dreaming of my next trip to the beach (40 days, but who's counting?) I'd be remiss if I didn't mention that the new (and final) issue of The Hungover Gourmet has arrived from the printer.

What you see in my hand at right – and don't worry, I was parked at the time – is our 44-page swan song, a combination mash note to and scathing indictment of coffee, plus thoughts on beer, Bud Chelada, the passing of a THG contributor, and Louis Fowler's epic struggle to feast like a king on a Big Lots budget.

Order your copy today.

Happy Birthday Wawa!

It was 45 years ago today that Wawa opened its first store in the Folsom section of Ridley Township, PA. From those humble beginnings the convenience store chain has grown into one of the nation's Top 10 coffee sellers and the third-largest food merchant in the region, behind only supermarket giants Acme and Shoprite.

These days I live about 20-30 minutes (depending upon traffic) from the closest Wawa, unlike my days spent in South Jersey and Bucks County, PA when any trip I made from my home took me past three or more of the establishments in the first five minutes.

But even a 45-minute roundtrip is preferable to my dark days spent in Pittsburgh's Wawa-less no man's land where questions like "Where's the nearest Wawa?" were met with an open-mouth and vacant stare (the results of too much Sheetz or 7-11 coffee I assume).

Though my favorite items can change as quickly as the weather here in Wawa's Northeast/Mid-Atlantic stronghold, here are my current faves:

• Wawa Coffee. It goes without saying that I get a cup of Wawa coffee eight out of ten trips to the convenience giant. It's why I started going there in the first place – that and to pick up a Philly Inquirer. My standard blend used to be half-regular/half-hazelnut but these days I'm all about the Kona. And for my money, nothing beats a cup of Wawa coffee and a cream donut from Crust & Crumb located in Bay Village on LBI. (If you haven't seen it yet check out video from my Christmas day visit to Wawa.)
  
• Italian Hoagie with provolone, a little mayo, grated parmesan. While the rolls used at nearby MD locations don't match the Amoroso's rolls used in the Delaware Valley, a Wawa hoagie is still hard to beat as the perfect lunch or dinner when you're on the road or on the way to the drive-in.
• Diet Lemonade Ice Tea. Commonly referred to as an "Arnold Palmer" this is a slightly sweet, refreshing drink that packs a nice caffeine punch. Perfect for lunch on summer days spent on the beach at LBI where the closest Wawa is just two short blocks away.

What's your favorite Wawa item?

What Was Tops in Food & Drink for 2008?

I usually like to get this list wrapped up while the year is still fresh in my mind and 2008 is already starting to feel like a dark, distant memory. But if the NCAA feels comfortable concluding their 2008 season on January 8th, I guess it's okay that my year-end wrap-up gets posted around Elvis' birthday.

If you'd asked me this morning – bleary-eyed and tired from watching the BCS Championship Game last night – how I felt about 2008 from a Hungover Gourmet standpoint I probably would have said that it was a disappointing year. But then I got some coffee in me and started jotting down all the great tastes I experienced, excellent meals I had, fun trips I took, and the wonderful people I spent time with and guess what? 2008 was pretty darn good after all!

Here's some of the highlights from the past 12 months...

TASTE OF PHILLY: Excellent cheesesteak shop in Denver of all places. Run by Philly-area ex-pats the place features pics of Mike Schmidt and Amorosso's roll boxes, not to mention meaty, delicious steaks.

NEW RECIPES: I frequently fall into recipe funks and end up making the same things over and over but I did add some new options to the rotation this year including Thai Tilapia, Summer Shrimp Salad Sandwich, Slow Oven Cooked Ribs and a couple new ways with pork chops. I also rediscovered my love for big bowls of Tuna Mac Salad during the summer.

COSTCO MEATS: Speaking of chops, I wasn't sure how I'd feel about purchasing meat in bulk at a place like Costco. How wrong I was. Their pork chops, so thick and meaty that I end up splitting them in half, have become a "must have" in our freezer and I've never been disappointed with any of the meats I've purchased there, whether it's an expensive cut of beef for entertaining or a huge boneless pork shoulder to be slow cooked and pulled for sandwiches.

CULINARY EXCURSIONS: I was lucky enough to take two food-and-drink-packed trips in 2008, one to Seattle and a southern road trip that took us from MD to GA and OBX. Both featured so much great food and good times it'd be impossible to summarize them here though I will single out the Cuban Sandwich at the King & Prince in GA and the Deep Fried Banana Leaf Wrapped Chicken Thighs at Ayutthaya in Seattle.

THE TERRACE STACKER: I love me some multi-tiered burgers and this heart-stopper from The Terrace Tavern on LBI is no exception. Any time you combine a mushroom cheeseburger with two thin slices of pork roll you've got me.

GREAT MEALS IN BALTIMORE: We didn't get out as much this year as we usually do, but when we did it was usually pretty great. Top dishes for me: Choucroute Garni (Chameleon Cafe); Spicy Curry Catfish (Saigon Remembered); Flounder Stuffed with Crab Imperial (Michael's Steak & Lobster House); Deep Fried Soft Shell Crab, Crystal Wonton Soup (Jumbo Seafood); Mashed Potatoes (Todd Conners); Chicken Liver Pate, Crabcake (Patrick's Restaurant); Coq au Vin (Rocket to Venus); and the consistently awesome sushi at San Sushi Too in Towson.

INDULGENCE: Edy's Fun Flavors Peanut Butter Cup Ice Cream. I'm not a sweets lover and could usually take or leave any ice cream you put in front of me. But it's a good thing this coma-inducing blend of vanilla ice cream with chunks of peanut butter cups (probably my favorite candy ever) and fudge isn't usually available within 50 miles of me.

BACON AND BEER: These two are already great on their own but when you start putting them in other things I love, well, let's just say you have a customer for life. To wit, Bacon Salt, Baconnaise and Yuengling Lager Barbecue Sauce.

JULY 27: Maybe the best food day of the year. With friends in from out of town we decided to go grab lunch at Mama's On the Half Shell where I indulged in their awesome Oyster Po Boy Sandwich, Clams Casino and several draft PBRs (perfect for sitting outside on a warm summer day). After lunch we drove to Little Italy and stopped at Vacarro's (my fave Baltimore bakery/dessertery) where we picked up sherbert, pistachio ice cream and tiarmasu. From there it was home where Chris whipped up a couple homemade pizzas, one of which could only be described as decadent.

THG GETS SOME PROPS: I've been writing The Hungover Gourmet in some form or another since the early 1990s when it debuted in the pages of Exploitation Retrospect, my drive-in movie and pop culture zine. Since then we've added a print version of THG, this blog, a Yahoo Group and a website not to mention a continuing column in the pages of Carbon 14. Writing can be sorta lonely, so it's always nice to find out that not only are people reading what you wrote but that they're also enjoying it. 2008 saw THG appear with fellow area food bloggers at the Great Tastes Food & Drink Festival in Baltimore, featured on both Food Candy (more than once) and SlashFood, added to UrbanSpoon, and splashed across the pages of The Zine Yearbook. Thanks to everybody who took the time to write, comment, mention or link to us, send a product in for us to try, or show their support in any way. Changes are in store for 2009 as well as the publication of the long-overdue THG #11 but I'll leave all the details for an upcoming post.

What are some of your favorite food & drink meals, memories and experiences in 2008?

When the Moon is Red the Dead Shall Rise

When I was going to school in Philadelphia back in the latter half of the 1980s, there was a five or six block stretch of Chestnut Street that was home to a handful of great theaters. And when I say "great" I mean dank, smelly shoeboxes that regularly offered up whatever horror, action or sexploitation was being released by Cannon, Empire or New World during that last, great gasp of cinematic trash.

I still recall going to see stuff like TRUE BLOOD, an oddball thriller starring Jeff Fahey and Sherilyn Fenn, while the decidedly urban audience playfully hurled insults at my friends and me. There was the night we were in one of the strip's classier theaters for a preview screening of some horror flick and found out that Keenan Ivory Wayans was in the theater next door screening I'M GONNA GIT YOU SUCKA! (we quickly ducked over and gave him a copy of Exploitation Retrospect, the drive-in movie newsletter I was publishing at the time).

But one theater in the neighborhood still holds my fondest memories of afternoons when I should have been in class or Saturday nights when we'd catch a flick before heading to a club to see whatever punk/garage band was in town. The Budco Midtown (now the Prince Theater) was home to two screens that regularly acted as a one-week-only home away from home to such trash as WITCHBOARD, BREEDERS, CREEPAZOIDS, NO MAN'S LAND, BURIAL GROUND and more. But it was the films of Italian splatter legend Lucio Fulci that regularly made me stop in my tracks and plunk down $5 for three hours of joy.

One of the films that I was lucky enough to catch on some insane double-bill was Fulci's GATES OF HELL, a non-stop mix of splatter and Lovecraftian jibber-jabber that isn't so much a film as it is a highlight reel of the master's trademark moments of mayhem and gore. Christopher George stars as a grizzled reporter (not to be confused with his frequent roles as a grizzled cop in other 80s trash fare like THE EXTERMINATOR and the equally brilliant PIECES) who who gets roped into stopping the armies of the dead from taking over the earth. Featuring some of Fulci's most notorious moments – a heart-stopping cemetery rescue, a surprisingly realistic drill to the head, vomited-up intestinal tracts, bleeding eyes, dead priests and more – GATES never disappoints.

So what the heck does that have to do with our trip to Georgia? Well, parts of GATES were shot in the sleepy Southern town of Savannah, GA, which inexplicably is supposed to double for the New England locale of Dunwich, Massachusetts.... a town that doesn't even exist. So who's to say it doesn't look like a distinctly Southern slice of Gothic architecture and lots of iron work? (One reviewer suggests that the film is so inept it's actually good, a claim I have a hard time arguing with.)

Knowing we were headed to GA in the coming months we made plans to hook up with Curt, an old pal, horror blogger and fellow member of the Eurotrash Paradise. We usually get to see Curt once a year or so during our ETP get-togethers but he wasn't able to make this year's Seattle trip so a mini-ETP get-together in Savannah seemed like a must.

Though Hanna was doing her best to dampen our day with clouds, rain and the occasionally whipping wind, we still had a great time walking around town and seeing such sites as the infamous house where the MIDNIGHT IN THE GARDEN OF GOOD & EVIL murder took place.

After a quick walk through town we made our way to the Moon River Brewing Company, a decidedly non-touristy brew pub where we felt it was unlikely to run into fans of Paula Deene or her spawn.

Driving and walking had brought on a mighty hunger and we worked our way through the restaurant's menu which succeeds in being familiar without offering the same old bar food. Fried Green Tomatoes (a favorite of Chris's since her days in her family's restaurant) were juicy and tasty, despite a slightly overcooked crust. Leek & Goat Cheese Cakes (shown at right) were a unique and great combination of flavors, though the leeks should have been chopped more to eliminate the stringiness and a sauce of some type would have taken them to another level; an accompanying scoop of lentils were dry to the point of dessication and seemed woefully out of place.

The Bayou Shrimp (right) fared much better, featuring shrimp stuffed with smoked kielbasa, baked and served in a sauce I didn't even need. (Side note... I really like the South's obsession with shrimp and sausage.) Curt and I both decided on the Lowcountry Crab Melt, which wasn't so much a sandwich as it was a baking dish filled with toast, crab salad, cheese and, um, cheese.

A couple Belgian-style wheat ales (Curt) and some Swamp Fox IPA (yours truly) topped off an excellent lunch that gave us the strength and courage to check out some of the Savannah-based GATES locales that Curt had scoped out.

While he wasn't able to pin down the location of the cemetery used in the film's opening (and even hardcore Savannahites were of no help) Curt did lead us to the staircase that John-John runs down when trying to escape from his now-zombified (?) sister Emily. (Forgive me if my recollections of GATES are rusty... it has been about a year since I saw it and my DVD is at home.) We also took video (which I'll post at a later date) of what we believe is the catwalk that one of the zombies jumps off during the film's whacked out running time.

After walking the streets that the grandfather of Italian splatter had walked, it was time to head out. The rains were whipping their way through the streets of Savannah and one could almost hear Fulci shouting for the effects gurus to bring in more sheep intestines for the next gruesome effect.

Here Comes Hannah

The winds have kicked up, the surf is churning and a light rain has just started, signaling the arrival of Tropical Storm Hannah's first bands on the Georgia coast. Nobody here seems very fazed by it, so I'm taking the same, laid-back island attitude.

Then again, if I keep eating the way I've been eating, laying back is about all I'm going to be able to do. We spent most of yesterday afternoon sitting poolside/oceanside, enjoying beautiful breezes and warm sun that's giving my usual computer-jockey-pale complexion a healthy tan. I can confirm that the resort's poolside grill serves up a mean Cuban Sandwich, though I'm sure devotees of the gooey blend of roasted pork, ham, pickles and mustard would surely scoff the way I do when I see a "Philly Cheesesteak" on any menu outside the Delaware Valley. (At least a bar we stopped in last night to see some friends had the good sense to call theirs a "Filly".)

After three or so hours in the pool with my part-dolphin daughter we got ourselves cleaned up and headed into town for dinner at Mullet Bay, yet another charming island restaurant. Luckily, there was outside seating so we were able to avoid the sight of two transplanted Giants fans whooping it up barside as the NFL season kicked off.

Food was once again top-notch. A starter bowl of Pepper Butter Shrimp came recommended by our waitress, and it certainly delivered. Small, seasoned shrimp are sauteed and then served in a bowl swimming with butter and hot sauce, delivering taste and a slight kick. Chris went for the Blackened Tilapia special, accompanied by baked potato and greens. I've been having a hankering for catfish so I gave in and had two large, delicately flavored pieces of fresh water catfish that were lightly battered and fried and came accompanied by sides of a delcious, creamy Sour Cream Redskin Potato Salad (with just a hint of dill and pickle) and the aforementioned greens, plus a couple hush puppies for good measure.

Ryan happily feasted on some homemade mac & cheese featuring a creamy but not too thick sauce and elbow macaroni cooked al dente while her father feasted on Sweetwater 420 Extra Pale Ale, an easy-drinking beer that went perfect with the huge platter of fish and filling side dishes.

Once again, our whole meal with tip and drinks came to less than $70. Though not a candidate for the Recession Gourmet category of this blog, certainly worth the price. And I don't mind eating out for these few days knowing that we'll be able to pick up some farm fresh tomatoes on our way to OBX where we'll spend most nights cooking up fresh, local seafood or grilling chicken or pork chops.

The rain seems to be coming and going, so it looks like we've picked a perfect day to hop in the car and drive up to Savannah to meet Curt, have lunch and maybe bask in the glow of the late, great genius of Lucio Fulci.

Victory is Great. Honor is Greater.

Nothing tells you you've left the north like a giant billboard for 1-800-MY-SOUTH.

After much debating, tropical storm/hurricane tracking, website checking and weather nerding we went to bed Tuesday night with a plan in place... head south towards our destination in GA and wait to see what path Hannah took. Once we knew that we figured we could either stay put or head down to Florida and wait out the storm.

Turns out that getting a good night's sleep and leaving when we did was probably the right plan. We hit the road around 6 AM yesterday morning, got coffee and began the MD to GA leg of our two-week, three beach odyssey. (We spent Labor Day weekend on Long Beach Island in NJ.)

Our only two stops along the way were for gas, a quick bite and to let the little one burn off som energy. A year ago we drove halfway across the country when Ryan was just about eight weeks old and it couldn't have been easier. She slept four hours at a stretch and was usually ready to eat and get changed when we stopped for gas.

At 15-months-old things are slightly different, but I think we've got a born traveler on our hands.

We arrived at our destination in Georgia around 5 PM yesterday, surprisingly refreshed for a long drive. Accomodations can't be beat... I think we're about the only people in this building at the resort and we have a great view of the ocean from our room. Weather looks good for today and Saturday (the day our friends are getting married) with a rainy day tomorrow. We'll probably head to Savannah tomorrow for a bit to visit my pal Curt (who runs the excellent Groovy Age of Horror blog) and do lunch at a supposedly haunted brew pub right near where Lucio Fulci shot some locales during his 80s splatter heyday.

Dinner last night was at the excellent Barbara Jean's by the pier. Though we were getting exhausted by that point we enjoyed homemade She Crab Soup (spicy & creamy without being too rich), Cheddar Grits (so rich and cheesy you just wanted to climb in), a thick and tasty slab of meatloaf with mashed potatoes and gravy, and a filling bowl of shrimp and andoullie sausage atop, yep, more cheesy grits. Everything also came accompanied by a basket of spicy jalapeno cheese corn bread and cakelike pumpkin bread. Not bad for $60 (including tip and two 16 oz. beers).

The girls just got back from their run/walk with cups of strong, real coffee and a cheese danish. Soft ocean breezes are blowing in the screen door and a trip to the pool and/or beach awaits.

Other quick notes... saw this at a scary gas station in Middleofnowhere, NC. Unfortunately, the camera was in the car and the guys behind the counter were eyeing me suspiciously when I started firing up the video camera in the parking lot. As much as I wanted to try one we didn't have a cooler and the idea of a cold, then warm, then cold one just made me vomit in my mouth a little. Also, South Carolina has the worst roads ever. Describing the stretch of I-95 through there as "bumpy" would be kind.

Food Rex for The Greatest City in the History of Mankind?

A friend asked me if I wouldn't mind checking with those in the know – that'd be you, the faithful THG readership – about places to eat when she heads out to San Diego in a couple weeks.

Despite its reputation as the greatest city in the history of mankind (according to Ron Burgundy) I've never been so I came up empty with any recommendations. But maybe you can help her out.

Here's what she's looking for...

I'll want to avoid super-uber "fancy" places because I won't have the clothes for it. Other than that, anything with entrees say up to the $15-20 range at the high end. Always up for a good gastropub or Asian. Really want to find a good taco truck or three, or good Mexican food that's not been Chi-Chi-ized and loaded with melted cheese. This year I'm staying at a hotel that used to be the old Navy base. The places around the convention center are usually packed, and we will have a car.

Don't let me down people...

Memorial Day Sticker Shock

Everybody keeps talking about how much gas prices have gone up, making holiday travel a bigger burden on American families than at any time in our history. But what about that other Memorial Day tradition – the holiday BBQ? CNN reports that we should be prepared to pay more for, well, everything when we go shopping for food and drink this weekend.

Area Convenience Stores Offer Several Types of Gas

Convenience stores and convenience store food get a pretty bad rap in our country, some of it well-deserved. Just look at the portrayal of these one-stop shops in such shows as THE SIMPSONS and movies like CLERKS. Even I'm guilty of it, visibly blanching last night when a character in an episode of THE WIRE was drinking a cup of 7-11 coffee.

But convenience stores have been stepping up their efforts to offer drivers more than just petrol and potties. From coffee and doughnuts to snacks, subs and – gasp – sushi, the Wawas, BPs and Royal Farms of the world should be commended for their efforts to fill our bellies while we're filling our tanks.

Baltimore Sun reporter John Linder took off on a culinary adventure of sorts recently, and reports his findings in today's edition. Linder and his wife hit five local convenience store/gas stations, sampled their menu offerings and reported back. Though I'm not sure why you'd visit a Wawa and not have a trademark sub.

Seattle Bound

I'm off to Seattle in the AM for the Emerald City Comicon and, more importantly, the annual gathering of my pals from the Eurotrash Paradise. Probably won't be posting much over the next couple days, though I'm guessing that Seattle does have an internet cafe or twenty. More next week...

Denver Trip Report: Part 3 -- Mile High Cheesesteaks

Though I jokingly throw the term "Hungover Gourmet" around pretty liberally I am hardly what you would call a "snob" when it comes to what I'll eat and drink in the pursuit of a good time.

My beer taste runs the gamut from plebian to top shelf. I love a great, freshly grilled burger as much as a greasy fried fast food one. And, though I prefer my seafood fresh off the boat I'm certainly not opposed to the occasional Filet-O-Fish.

But there's one foodstuff that I simply won't tolerate when it's not executed properly and that's the regal Philly Cheesesteak, the Delaware Valley's finest culinary contribution. (Sorry, Tastykake lovers and Wawa fanatics.)

In fact, I'm on record in more than one article, message board and forum suggesting that if it's not made within 30 miles of the hat atop Billy Penn's head that once acted as a "stop building when you reach here" measuring stick in the City of Brotherly Lunch, it's not worth eating.

And certainly can't be called a Philly Cheesesteak, or even a Cheesesteak as far as I'm concerned.

I have, however, always maintained that such a rule needs an asterisk next to it because of one major variable: Amoroso's rolls.

While not every PCS purveyor worth their weight in Cheez Wiz adheres to the rule that a steak needs an Amoroso's roll (see Steve's Prince of Steaks, for example), I've long held the belief that the rolls – slightly crusty on the outside, sweet and chewy inside – can elevate even a mediocre sandwich to a higher plane.

So it was with great interest that we headed out on Saturday night in search of A Taste of Philly, a small chain of Denver-area eateries that had two things going for them. One, the founders and owners were Philly-area residents until they moved to the Mile High City. Two, and this is more important than anything, they have Amoroso's rolls shipped in to give their signature sandwich an authentic touch of "Yo".

After taking what we'll call the "scenic route" to reach our destination we finally spied the original Denver home of A Taste of Philly (2432 S Colorado Blvd, (303) 757-3944). Located in a strip mall next to a massage joint offering Hot Oil Massage, Couples Rooms and something called a Table Shower (I'm afraid to ask), A Taste of Philly has all the charm and ambiance of Dallesandro's, a favorite PCS joint from our last tour. In other words, there's a handful of tables, a smattering of chairs and a certifiably Philly vibe of "Whadda you want?" hanging in the air.

Excuse me, I've got something in my eye I need to take care of. Sniff... okay, I'm better now.

The local flavor (a mere 1756 miles from my apartment at 21st and Pine) is further enhanced by a Tastykake display, a picture of Phillies great Mike Schmidt, an Amoroso's sign, and various shots of the Philly skyline. Another wall is dominated by framed awards and newspaper articles touting this as the Best Philly Cheesesteak in the area, but we'll be the judges of that. Frankly, I don't care what the Colorado-based writer of some Denver area alt-weekly thinks. I grew up – and out – on the things.

In yet another nod to its Philly roots, the group of 20-something employees who are filling most of the tables and chairs when we pull up scatter to the kitchen when we walk in and only filter back out when we're almost done. Gruff but not rude, the staff has a Philly flavor that probably just comes with the territory.

Glancing up to look at the menu we spy the tell-tale Amoroso's shipping boxes and pray that the steak is halfway decent and not lean roast beef or some other abomination. (A "steak sandwich" once spotted on a Pittsburgh chain eatery menu was literally ground hamburger. I died a little inside that day.)

We order our sandwiches and wait for the moment of truth. Though they got my sandwich wrong – I ordered a Cheesesteak Hoagie but received a plain Cheesesteak – I wasn't about to wait another minute to dig in. First off, my hunger had taken over all rational thought and second, the smell of the cooking steak and the sight of the long Amoroso's rolls being yanked apart was all I needed.

Though the hoagie variety (as sampled by JT) could have used a more liberal application of fixings, we both agreed that they'd done good by the name A Taste of Philly. Each roll featured a heaping helping of chopped, tenderized steak with a liberal meat-to-cheese ratio. Though the grills obviously don't see enough action to have the well-seasoned flavor of the joints you'll find scattered around Philly and New Jersey, the meat was tasty and without a hint of the chewy, grisly variety you'll find at some establishments. And despite the decidedly adult nature of the neighboring establishment there wasn't a hint of Lysol or any industrial strength disinfectant in the air. (I'm looking at you Jim's!)

Here's perhaps the best compliment I can give A Taste of Philly. If they were located in the Delaware Valley it'd be a frequent stop during my return visits to the area. A far better sandwich than the likes of Jim's, Pat's or Geno's, this Taste of Philly is alright by me.

Denver Trip Report: Part 2

After touching down in Denver, looking at the spooky mural, and hooking up with John and Nancy (see Part 1) it was now time to move on to the important task at hand. Finding breakfast. Especially considering it was now around 11 AM, I'd been up since 2 AM, and my stomach was full of nothing but coffee, Fig Newtons and stale airplane air.

Over the years John and I have had some great eating experiences together, whether we're talking cheap grub at Don's House of Polish Sausage in Tulsa (sadly, no more), a truly great steak at The Rusty Barrell (sic) in their hometown of Ponca City (OK), the heaping Farmhouse Omelet at The New Englander Diner in Danbury (CT), or the award-winning BBQ from Head Country, also in Ponca City. So I knew that despite the unfamiliar setting and his recent surgery, they'd already have the lay of the land and know a place or two for some good eats.

I was not disappointed by Le Peep, which despite its borderline-too-cutesy Frenchie name serves up a mean breakfast. Forewarned that it was a chain, I was surprised to see how far-reaching Le Peep's coverage was... predominantly located in the midwest they also have establishments in Florida, North Carolina and New Jersey (good to note for future road trips). With a menu that sticks to breakfast, brunch and lunch, Le Peep knows what it does well and stays the course.

After browsing the hefty, multi-page menu featuring a handful of insufferable puns ("Get Benaddicted" screamed one headline, "The Great 'Lite' Way" another suggested as a destination) I was able to narrow my choices down to a handful of colorfully-named dishes: the Drifter (potatoes, veggies, 'shrooms, onions, cheese, eggs); Gypsy (ham, onions, 'shrooms, cheese & eggs); or, Desperado (potatoes, chorizo, green chilies, onions, salsa, combo cheese and something called "basted eggs" which turned out to be like poached eggs).

With names like that and Hobo (a Drifter, hold everything but the onions, presumably because hoboes have less money than drifters) I half expected to see NBC's Chris Hanson picture on the menu touting the all-new Predator featuring Virgin-ia baked ham.

While I pondered those real – and imaginary – choices I also pinpointed something I knew I would not be having: The Philly, a lunch sandwich featuring lean roast beef, sauteed mushrooms, onions and bell peppers, melted mozzarella cheese and grilled Panini flat bread. While the menu proclaimed it to be "A real Philly treat!" I have a long-standing rule about such sandwiches. If you're not within 30 miles of William Penn's hat atop City Hall do not order anything with the words "Philly" or "Steak Sandwich" in it. Especially if it features roast beef.

While that rule would be put to the test later that day (see Part 3 coming tomorrow), I decided on the Desperado (seen above... Ole!), JT went with the ethnically-oriented Blarney Skillet (potatoes, corned beef, bell peppers, onions, rosemary & Hollandaise!), and Nancy stayed true red-white-and-blue by having the Lumberjack, a heaping helping of eggs, bacon, sausage, potatoes and pancakes.

Hungry as I was I'm guessing almost anything would have hit the spot, but I was actually quite pleased with the Desperado, thanks to a nice kick courtesy of the chorizo, chilies and salsa. It was just what I needed to fill me up and snap me out of the air travel-induced haze that had settled in during our ride from the airport to breakfast.

With breakfast in our rearview mirror and a destination dinner in our future, it was the perfect time to head to the condo and take a load off.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Denver Trip Report: Part 1

As I mentioned in a previous post I headed out to Denver over Super Bowl weekend to visit my brother John and his wife Nancy. They actually live in Ponca City, Oklahoma but are in Denver (Aurora, to be precise) while JT recuperates from a double-lung transplant.

After getting up wayyyy early to drive up to Philly International (it was the only way to get a non-stop red-eye on Sunday night) I got through security, which is always a delight, and settled in with a magazine. Unfortunately, there's not a whole lot open in the airport at 5 AM (not even a Starbucks?), so I was glad I'd brought along some coffee and Fat-Free Fig Newtons for the trip.

I should also mention that while Chris, Ryan and Charlie stayed home in Maryland, I wasn't alone on my journey. Our nephew Liam is a second-grade student in Massachusetts and his class had provided me with a travel buddy for the trip. "William", as he'd been dubbed by Chris's folks, had already been to Naples, Florida and was the perfect companion. Silent and small enough to fit in my carry-on bag, William posed for some pix along the way (see above) and never asked for a bite of my Newtons.

While I've come to view airline travel as one step above taking the bus, I must admit that I enjoy flying Frontier Airlines as much as I enjoy flying any airline. (There's a compliment in there somewhere.) The seats are fairly roomy, even in the economy section, and at 6'2" I don't feel too cramped.

Better still, they have DirecTV built into the headrests and for 5 bucks you can get 20-some channels including various ESPN incarnations, MSNBC, the Food Network, HGTV and a cartoon channel called 'Boom' that features stuff like 'Jonny Quest', 'Dyna Mutt', etc. Oddly enough, the channel was showing the same episode of 'Jonny Quest' that I watched about 18 months ago on the way back from Phoenix. (A faux Race Banion takes the place of the real Race, only to be unmasked as an impostor when a woman from Real Race's past shows up in the middle of some godforsaken jungle and kisses Fake Race!)

The trip out went about as good as I could hope: nobody in the seat next to me, some serious dozing fueled by the drone of the plane and the droning pre-Super Bowl chatter on ESPN, and a Fat Free Newton or two after I slept through the "meal service" which I believe amounted to a cookie and a beverage.

Arriving in Denver slightly ahead of schedule I made cell phone contact with JT and Nancy and headed off to meet them. Having never been to Denver I wasn't sure what to expect in the airport. Vegas has dazed looking gamblers, carpets that smell like feet and slot machines. What would Denver offer? Hordes of John Elway look-alikes? Desperados brandishing six guns? Marlboro men in suede jackets with lambswool piping?

Had you asked me what I expected, I guarantee that a huge mural that looked like this wasn't on the list...


Unfortunately, while the Denver Airport may be huge and feature scary paintings on the walls it completely lacks informative, helpful signage. This is something I've never understood about airports. If a large percentage of the people coming through your doors are not from there and may have never been in your airport, why not have some useful signage – and mall-style "You Are Here" directories don't count.

In my first attempt to hook up with my brother I ended up on the wrong side of the terminal. He was over on the Terminal East side, I guessed wrong and ended up in Terminal West. Once I got turned around and made my way East, I followed what little signage there was to ground transportation, only to be alerted by an overhead announcement that if I was waiting for a non-commercial pickup I was on the wrong level.

Grrrrr.

One wrong terminal and one wrong pickup level later I finally hooked up with my brother and sister-in-law. I can't do the moment justice when I saw him get out of the car. It was the first time in over two years that I'd seen him without an oxygen canister and the first time I felt like he'd gotten a new lease on life.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Off to Denver

It's outrageously early to be up, but it's for good reason. A few hours from now I'll be winging my way out to Denver for an incredibly short, but highly anticipated, visit with my older brother John.

Regular readers of THG: The Zine may be familiar with JT as he has written pieces for the newsletter on occasion. These days, though, he's writing an entirely new story as he recuperates from a life-saving, double-lung transplant.

After suffering with the effects of Alpha-1 Anti-Trypsin Deficiency for several years, the condition worsened and in 2005 he was placed on a transplant list. After a couple false alarms – including a November 2007 trip all the way to Denver for surgery, only to find out there was an infection in the donor lungs – the call came on January 2 that lungs were ready and waiting for him in Denver.

One month after the surgery and he's doing better than even the most sunny-dispositioned optimist would have imagined. Lab results have been positive, there has been no sign of rejection, his medications are getting managed, and other than one scary episode of increased heart rate and low blood pressure his recovery has been smooth sailing.

So that's why I'm up at this ungodly hour, having my coffee and posting away rather than sleeping. I can't wait to get to Denver and see him with my own eyes. Plans for my all-too-brief trip include a stop at the Taste of Philly chessesteak restaurant run by former PA residents who fly in Amoroso's rolls for their sandwiches.

No Shit... Taiwan's Toilet Bowl-Themed Eateries

Rarely am I speechless, but this clip of diners at a Taiwan-based restaurant called 'Modern Toilet' might have succeeded. According to Reuters this but one of a dozen such "eateries" in the area.

Airport Eating Tips for Holiday Travelers

If you're anything like me you hate the very thought of eating in an airport. Frankly, I'd rather do almost anything with my time than fly somewhere (my brother and I were just discussing the "subway of the skies" today), but there are occasions when it's just not feasible to drive to, say, Las Vegas. Or Seattle. If I end up in an airport and have to eat something I'll usually grab a Fig Newton and a Starbucks coffee and hope that'll hold me till I can get some real food in my stomach.

If you're traveling this holiday season and want to eat something other than a Big Mac or tempt the fates by having Taco Bell before you get on a plane, here are some tips from nutrition experts.

Though I do wonder about the guy who recommends filling an Altoids box with some loose almonds. Has this joker been through a security checkpoint recently?

Leg Check Profile Inspection

As seen while traveling up I-95 last weekend. Click for the full image.