National Dish of the Lone Star State

The first time I remember eating chicken fried steak was in Houston, in the early 70’s. Covering over half the dinner plate it looked like a flattened piece of fried chicken. I didn’t know exactly what I was eating, but it was very good.

Since then I have enjoyed chicken fried steak in more than a few Texas restaurants. Tenderized beef, dredged in flour that has been seasoned with salt and pepper and maybe something else, then pan fried in lard in a heavy skillet, not deep fried. Served with a side of green beans, mashed potatoes covered with cream gravy and a small cup of cream gravy on the side just in case you need more.

Goodson’s Café in Tomball was our go to place for chicken fried steak. In the 1970’s smoking was still permitted, and there was always a thin layer of smoke hanging over Goodson’s small dining room from cigarettes and the chicken fried steaks frying in cast iron skillets. Also, it wasn’t unusual for a waitress to have an inch of cigarette ash cantilevered over the tray of plates she was carrying to your table.

Now days for outstanding chicken fried steak I go to the original Hoover’s Cooking restaurant on Manor Road in Austin. In fact, in my opinion, Hoover’s is the all around winner when it comes to Texas style southern cooking. Also, I have not yet found a better slice of coconut cream pie in Texas than that served at Hoover’s.

Frozen Custard Rules

Milwaukee is the center of the frozen custard world, who knew, and Kopps Frozen Custard is among the best. There are even custard stands around the country selling “Milwaukee” custard, and if you ever have a chance to try one go for it, because you will not be disappointed, in fact frozen custard is made with more butterfat, and eggs than most hard ice creams.

In Texas we have Shake’s Frozen Custard, and their Big Bopper sundae, with hot caramel and hot fudge sauce poured over vanilla custard, topped with pecans, is not to be missed.

Try a frozen custard, and you will never go back to Dairy Queen. By the way the soft serve sold at IKEA is yellow because it has less air than say a DQ. No matter, I don’t like the stuff.

A Shake's Big Bopper Sundae.

Pizza: "Have You Had a Piece Lately"

To me pizza is an American comfort food, and as with all comfort foods if it doesn’t taste like what you grew up with it just isn’t any good. Maybe an exaggeration, but it’s not far off the mark.

On the west side of Los Angeles, where I grew up, a popular place for pizza was named Piece of Pizza, and their slogan was “Have You Had A Piece Lately”. A small local restaurant chain, it had inside seating, red and white checkerboard plastic table cloths; all in all not too impressive. None the less, I remember that in the 1950’s and 60’s they made a good hand thrown pizza pie with a chewy crust, covered with Italian sausage, and mozzarella cheese. Sadly, when I returned a few years ago the pizza was just plain terrible. Too much success, loss of focus, I don’t know, but it’s rather sad.

Some may argue, but I think the best pizza pie in the Austin area is served at Frank & Angie’s, although the Brooklyn Pie Company in Georgetown makes a darn good pie. Frank & Angie’s is small, cozy with inside seating, and fast service. They serve a quality pizza pie with a rather thick tasty crust, loaded with most any combination of toppings you might want. There spaghetti, and meatballs, another American comfort food, is likewise very good.

Where is the best pizza in the country? That’s a question that may never be answered, but a guy named Ed Levine, who is from New York City, says in his book, Pizza, A Slice of Heaven, that the best is in Phoenix, Arizona at Chris Bianco’s Pizzeria Bianco, and that from a guy from NYC; it must be true. Levine’s book is good, and if you’re into pizza it will become a valuable resource.

Other restaurants serving good pizzas, and that I recommend include Bertucci's Italian Restaurant in Framingham, Massachusetts, Mac Kenzie River Pizza Company in Billings, Montana, and Nello’s Pizza in Scottsdale, Arizona. Interestingly, each of these is part of a small chain, local to their area, and in the case of Bertucci’s, and Nello’s, I was disappointed when I ate at a location other than the one listed.

Chicago style deep dish pizza is OK, but certainly not my favorite. What can I say; it’s not what I grew up with, and as somebody said, “Deep dish, that’s a casserole, not a pizza”.

When we were living in The Netherlands, our 12 year old son told my wife and I about a pizza place he had found, and insisted we go there that evening. When we went there he said he knew the best pie to order, so he ordered, and we ate the Hawaiian. The crazy thing was covered with ham, pineapple, and pizza sauce, and I was shaken by the thought that by taking our son to a foreign country, he would never know what made a proper pizza. Five years later, when we returned to the USA, nearly every pizza place was making a Hawaiian pizza, and much later our son introduced us to Frank & Angie’s.

The Hawaiian Pizza Pie

Bavarian Beer: Ah

In 1981/1982, I worked on a manufacturing plant for an American company in Pleinfeld, West Germany, and sometimes traveled there on business. In the fall of 1982, the president of my parent company called from Cleveland, Ohio to say that he wanted to visit the recently completed facility.

So in early November I flew to Munich from Amsterdam to meet him, planning to drive together with him to the plant, and have dinner with the plant manager, and another staff member. The moment he got into the car at the airport, the chief started to complain; the car, a 500 series BMW was too small, it was too cold, where was everyone?

Although, a light snow was falling the divided highway north from Munich was clear. It continued snowing the entire trip, and there was snow on the two lane road to Pleinfeld. We seemed to be the only car on the road, and it was quiet except for the soft thumping of the widow wipers, and the crunch of Bimmer's tires on the snow.

Off season the small hotel I had booked, with help from our German customer, looked closed, and its front door was locked. Answering my knock the proprietor opened the door, and we entered a cold foyer. Signing the register I glanced into the restaurant and it was likewise cold, and also dark. I wasn’t the only one who noticed, and the complaining continued.

As we walked to our rooms the hallway lights went on and off automatically. I put my bag in my room, and went to the restaurant. The owner had turned on the lights, and as I sat down the boss arrived. We each ordered a beer, nothing special just something they had on tap, and while we waited for our beer, the boss made use of the time to remind me that the hallway was dark when he left his room, and his room was near freezing.

Fortunately the beer arrived, served in tall beer glasses, and I took a long drink. Cool not cold, slightly bitter and effervescent, the flavor of hops unmistakable.

We sat quietly, and as we each enjoyed two glasses of wonderful Bavarian beer the boss started to smile. The proprietor started to do things in a now lighted kitchen, and our guests arrived. We talked through several more glasses of beer until our food arrived. Another glass of beer with our dinner, whatever it was, I can’t remember, but I do remember that it was good, very good. All, in all it was a really nice evening; great beer, good food, interesting people, and a smiling, pleasant boss; it had to be the beer.

I discovered later that the hotel was indeed closed, including the kitchen, and had been opened just for our visit.

During ski season I flew to this project via Nuremberg, not Munich, and drove south to Pleinfeld. The aircraft was nearly full of Dutch skiers in brightly colored winter sweaters, laughing, and looking forward to days on the Bavarian slopes. On the return flight to Amsterdam the plane’s seats were now arranged to hold litters, each with an injured skier, still in bright sweaters, now trying to look nonchalant, but still smiling.

Candy or Confection

On a shopping trip to Brussels I spotted a small sweet shop that said "Leonidas". It was fall, 1979, and at the time, to me reasonably good chocolate candy came in a box, bought at the drug store. Or maybe a See’s or Fannie Mays store where you selected from their showcase of assorted pieces.

After I stepped inside the Leonidas shop the sales person said to me in perfect English, “May I help you? “ I replied that I wanted to buy a piece of chocolate candy, and pointed to a small Airstream shaped chocolate, one among many, in a refrigerated case. She opened the case, picked up my selection, and with her white gloved hand, placed it a little box then handed it to me. I opened the box, and took a bite.

I bit through the chocolate shell into a center of sweet cool whipped cream, to discover a pecan nestled in the center. I knew that I was in the process of eating something very special. The combination of texture, the smooth silky shell, fresh whipped cream, and crisp pecan was unbelievably yummy. Hey, yummy does it for me.

I talked with the sales person, and she told me that I had selected a praline, a bon bon. Now I knew what a praline was, and even a bon bon, at least I knew what these words represented in the States, and what I had just savored had nothing at all in common with them. She used the word “confection” as she told me about the other pralines in the case, not “candy”, and from then on whenever I was in Brussels I nearly always stopped in to buy a few bon bons.

McDonalds: A Quality Burger

For years my lunch consisted of two McDonalds’ cheese burgers, order of fries, and a large coke. When fried apple pies were added to their menu they were added to mine. I figure that I am personally responsible for eating at least a 1000 of the gazillion McDonalds has sold over the years.

McDonalds does not make the best burger. We no doubt agree on that. But, McDonalds makes a quality burger, a 100% quality burger. Are we still in agreement? No, maybe I can persuade you, just a little. Quality does not have to be expensive. It can be, but it doesn’t have to be. Every time I bite into a McDonalds’ cheese burger it is exactly as I expect, exactly. It meets my expectations every time, and that’s quality.

I mean, how many things can you say that about? Not many.

When I worked in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia I enjoyed eating the terrific food offered in street stalls, restaurants, and hotels. However, every now and then when I needed a food fix of home I went to the nearby McDonalds. In Malaysia, a Muslim country, they were not called hamburgers, simply burgers, and except for the buns they were exact copies of what you would be served if you had ordered them in the States. The texture of the buns were slightly different, softer maybe, I’m not sure, but all in all for a reminder of home very satisfying.

These days I don’t eat many McDonalds, but I still eat a few.

Texas Bar-b-que: Its the Meat

In Texas, bar-b-que always means beef brisket slow cooked over a wood fire, some sausage, and pork or beef ribs. Sauce is secondary, and bread is only provided to mop up the sauce. Usually the sauce is served on the side, in a squeeze bottle or a small paper cup, not poured directly over the meat, and at least one of the most respected bar-b-que places in Texas serve their sliced brisket on paper, without sauce.

Let me explain it this way: For a biker it’s the ride, for a Texan it’s the meat, and in Texas meat means beef brisket, not pork. You may be able to get pork ribs in Texas, but almost never sliced or pulled pork.

Since I am not a Texan (I only live here) I simply don’t have the genetic make-up to enjoy my bar-b-que without sauce. Further, I like my sauce to be tangy with the vinegar sweetness I have savored in the Carolinas. My favorite bar-b-que sandwich is pulled pork on a fresh bun, with a pile of slaw on top, and covered with Carolina tangy sauce.

I haven’t mentioned the pickles because I am trying my best to ignore them, and you will be better off if you do likewise. The pickles served with bar-b-que in Texas are worse than the bread. If you are served some don’t eat them, if you aren’t served any don’t ask. You will be happier. I have eaten bread and butter pickles, homemade by Texans, and they were terrific; sweet, tangy, and crisp, so what the heck is going on? The only thing I can think of is that nothing should detract from the flavor of the bar-b-que, but if thats not that the case then whoever started serving those limp, tasteless slices of dull green is still laughing.

I have already said what the bread is for, but I still don’t understand. It’s white “wonderbread” for goodness sake. What’s that all about? Why couldn’t it be a nice baguette with a soft center and crispy crust? Now, mop up the gravy with that, and you would have something.

My most favorite bar-b-que place in all of Texas is the Salt Lick, located in Driftwood south of Austin. Their family style serving of “heaping helpings of beef, sausage, and pork ribs, served with potato salad, cole slaw, beans, bread, pickles, and onions” is not to be missed. I took the stuff between the quotes right from their menu. If you go there don't forget to try their peach cobbler with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. The photo, by the way is absolutely authentic Salt Lick.

OK, I will admit that my father was born in San Antonio, and I have a sister born in Fort Worth, so maybe I do have a tiny bit of Texan genetic material.

The Salt Lick’s web site is at: http://www.saltlickbbq.com