Hungry Travels

As a general rule of the beach, where there’s a crevice, sand will find its way into it. This applies to cars, bags, odd body parts and books. If you’ve got a book that you’re trying to keep in pristine condition, don’t bring it to the beach — chances are it’ll get scuffed up with sand, globs of sunscreen and a splatter of food stains.  A paperback that you don’t mind trashing is preferable.

Two other criteria for the perfect beach book:

• Weight.  No one wants to lug around a 1,000 page monstrosity.  That’s just unwieldy, and tiring to read, especially if you’re lying on your back and holding the book up.  200-400 pages max seems about right.
• Ease of reading.  There are so many distractions at the beach: scenery, intermittent naps, pretty women… a good beach book shouldn’t overly tax your brain.  You want to be able to pick it up, put it down, pick it up, put it down, and not miss a beat in the process.  The Da Vinci Code was pulpy trash, but it made for better beach reading than Guns, Germs and Steel.

For these reasons, books about food fit the bill nicely.  For instance, the book I’m reading now, The Fortune Cookie Chronicles, would make a great beach book; it’s a look at the origins of Chinese food in America, including the fortune cookie, take-out and General Tso’s Chicken (which, as you might imagine, is not an authentic Chinese dish.)  An easy read; an interesting read.  I’m loving it. Thumbs up as a beach book.

A few other recommendations:

Heat
A behind-the-scenes glimpse at the kitchen of Babbo, Mario Batali’s flagship restaurant.  You get a real feel for what it’s like to cook in a high-pressure restaurant environment (not so glamorous), and a much better sense of the larger-than-life Batali himself.

Feeding a Yen
A collection of Calvin Trillin essays compiled into a very entertaining and readable book.  Trillin travels around the world on a series of culinary adventures — his sense of humor and love of food are infectious.

Garlic and Sapphires
Ruth Reichl’s memoirs of her days as the New York Times food critic.  Food critic is the job we all want, right?  Well, it still is, but Reichl does a good job conveying how exhausting and challenging it can be as well.  It’s especially interesting to read about the lengths a critic must go to remain incognito.

The Making of a Chef/ The Soul of a Chef/ The Reach of a Chef
Ah, three of my favorite books.  Ideally you should read them sequentially, but it’s not the end of the world to read them as one-offs.  If you have a deep interest in food, you’ll adore these books — Michael Ruhlman explores how one becomes a chef, what drives the world’s most renowned chefs, and what it means to be a chef in a world of tv superstardom and celebrity. I guarantee this: after reading all three, you’ll start saving up for a trip to Napa Valley and a meal at Thomas Keller’s The French Laundry.

The Apprentice
Jacques Pepin’s autobiography.  The guy’s my culinary hero — a true icon who exudes class and has somehow remained humble.  As you’ll read, he’s had quite an interesting life with several major ups and downs.  And holy hell can the guy cook.

(Note: Many years ago in Boston, I took martial arts classes with Pepin’s daughter, Claudine; you may remember her from their series Cooking With Claudine.  It took all my restraint not to endlessly pepper her with questions about her father.  Did manage to get in a few, though.)

And of course, the Bourdain books are top notch entertaining beach reading, but you’ve probably read those already.

On that note, have a very happy 4th and a relaxing long weekend!  Dear God, don’t let it rain.

Whether you’ve stumbled upon this blog or have arrived here intentionally, you’ve seen and read about what I’m eating ad nauseum.  But let’s flip things around — because I’m curious and rather food obsessed, I thought it’d be fun to hear about what you’re noshing on this summer.

Here’s what I’m suggesting: The next time you’re out to dinner, snap a pic of your meal, email it to me at hungrytravels@gmail.com, and I’ll include it in an upcoming post about what people are eating.  Or if you make something at home that you’re particularly proud of, send that along too.

Don’t forget to include a brief description of what’s in the pic and the name of the restaurant.  Doesn’t matter where you live — let’s see what you’re eating!

Here’s a dilemma for you to ponder:

Say you’re at J.P. Doyle’s in Sleepy Hollow, known for its tasty pub grub. You’re chatting with your Team in Training teammate, Ray, who’s just seen Food Inc., the documentary creating buzz by exposing the unseemly underbelly of the food industry: corporate greed, mistreatment of animals, gruesome looks into slaughterhouses, etc. You’ve seen Super Size Me and read Fast Food Nation, and both The Omnivore’s Dilemma and Food Inc. are on your list. You try to be a somewhat conscientious consumer by toting reusable bags into supermarkets, staying informed, reading labels, eschewing processed foods, supporting farmers’ markets and limiting your general meat consumption.

But it’s a beautiful Sunday.  You’ve just completed the Sleepy Hollow Sprint Triathlon.

You’re starving and you and your teammates have all moved over to J.P. Doyle’s.

You’ve been looking forward to a burger and a beer all week. ALL week.

But now you’re thinking about what Ray’s told you about Food Inc. and wondering about the beef and the cow from which it came.  Do you forego the burger and order a Cobb salad instead, like my teammate Anne did?

Or do you stick with the original plan?

What would you do?

I admit it, I caved.

I absolutely believe it’s important to be informed and ask questions about your food… but at this particular moment, my mind stepped into the ring with my stomach, and my stomach won by TKO.

A mammoth bacon cheeseburger with onion rings.  It was glorious.  Cooked a smidge past medium-well, but beefy and charred, topped with gooey Swiss cheese and crisp bacon. With a beer in front of me and ketchup and grease dripping down my hand, I entered a state of  post-race bliss.

Of course, once I see Food Inc. this might be the last burger I ever eat.

J.P. Doyle’s
48 Beekman Ave.
Sleepy Hollow, NY
914-631-3015

Remember Nina, the “Somebody’s got a case of the Muuuundays” receptionist from Office Space, who answered the phone like a cheerfully robotic corporate drone?

“Corporate accounts payable, Nina speaking, just a moment…
Corporate accounts payable, Nina speaking, just a moment…”

I thought of her at Chickens Gone Wild; the phone kept ringing, and the poor woman behind the register had to answer it:

“Chickens Gone Wild…
Chickens Gone Wild…
Chickens Gone Wild…”

Saying “Chickens Gone Wild” all day has got to make a person a little batty, don’t you think?

It’s a clever name though — conjures up images of cavorting chickens in bikinis and “Chickens of the Big 10″ calendars.  The place even has a mascot, “Chicken Man”, with his own Myspace page.  There are dozens of pictures of customers with Chicken Man on one wall.

All of this makes Chickens Gone Wild sound like it’s one big joke, but here’s the thing… it’s not.  They’re serious about their food. In fact, I was very pleasantly surprised by how solid the food was.  My order:

Quarter chicken with two sides — I chose yams and peas — with grilled pita bread and sides of hot sauce.  All for, get this, $4.25.  It’s part of their “Lunchtime Recession Special.”  That’s a great deal any way you cut it.

And the food was really tasty.  I’ve always liked Boston Market because it’s convenient and consistent, but this was way better.  My white meat chicken was meaty, moist and char-grilled on the outside; the pita and sides were good too, especially the yams sweetened with brown sugar.  And it’s just a nice touch that they give you two hot sauces.

Chickens Gone Wild also has burgers, steak and ribs on the menu — has anyone tried the ribs?  There are a few tables, but the place is primarily take out.

Keep on, keepin’ on,  Chickens Gone Wild.  You’re goofy, but I like you.

Chickens Gone Wild
211 Main St.
New Rochelle, NY
914-235-4010

What’s your must-have, essential summer food?  Is it ice cream? Burgers?  Lobster? Mine’s almond jello.

Almond jello’s a dessert you’ll often find in Chinese or dim sum restaurants — it’s jello made white from milk and flavored with almond extract.  Usually served with sweet syrup or fruit, my family eats it with honeydew, cantaloupe or watermelon.  It’s the ultimate cooling dessert on a hot summer day.

When I graduated from college and began feebly attempting to cook on my own, one of the first recipes my mom gave me was a recipe for almond jello.  Look, here it is on an index card, dirtied up and well used.

I’ll write out the ingredients in case you can’t read what’s on the card:

1 pkg gelatine
1/2 cup cold water
1 tbsp sugar
1/2 cup hot water
1 cup milk
1 tbsp almond extract

All you have to do is partially dissolve the gelatine in the cold water. Then pour in the hot water, vigorously stir with a whisk or fork, and add the rest of the ingredients.

(The key is to really stir after adding the hot water until the gelatine’s completely dissolved — otherwise you’ll end up with a thin “skin” on the bottom of the jello. Not a disaster, and I don’t mind it actually, but it’s not supposed to be there.  Also, you can easily double up the ingredients to make a larger batch.  That’s what I do.)

Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight or for several hours.

When the jello has set, score it into cubes and it’s ready to serve.

Top with your favorite fruit.

When it’s 90 degrees out and I’m sweating buckets on a long bike ride or a hard run, I fantasize about the almond jello that’s waiting for me when I get home. That’s right, I said it: I fantasize about almond jello.

Don’t laugh, you will too.