Random Thoughts…

Today is the first day this month I have not started the day with some kind of painkiller, so my thinking is relatively lucid albeit remarkably unfocused…so just a few thoughts.

First, SenKen needs to buy new shirts.  See the photoblogging from the Fifth District GOP convention. My time in retail taught me that men with longer necks need to wear a higher shirt collar than others to camouflage the neck length-otherwise you get the weather vane look.

Cooch, trust me on this-you need a higher collar.

Item next, Jason Cook performed on “American Idol” last night, and made a marvelous statement about the dangers of self-indulgent behavior. It is a lesson that is of benefit to anyone who makes or hopes to make their livelihood through communication of ideas.

There comes a time-and Jason has been in the middle of it for several weeks-where one has to decide if they want to focus on what they want to focus on or if perhaps they should focus on what their audience wants to focus on. Jason refuses to leave the comfort of his goofy rasta coffee house vibe. If it were a planned decision to take advantage of a perceived fan base, well…that’s one thing. More likely it is a simple unwillingness to try other styles or techniques that some viewers/voters might be interested in. The interest in staying in your comfort zone and doing only what you want or like despite the need to stretch is indulgent behavior.

We see this every day…the salesman who tries to sell you something because they like it-even though the customer clearly is not thrilled; the restauranteur who insists on putting certain favorite items on the menu even though they don’t sell and lose him money; the politician who regularly drives off message because he has an urge to touch on a particular topic, and in doing so diminishes his overall message.

We are surrounded by the indulgence, but Jason Castro is a most telling example…Starbucks Coffee is another one. As the campaigns stretch forth this fall, it will be interesting to see which candidates indulge their indulgences…

As much as Ben Tribbett and others may hate to hear it, I do believe the pant suited lady is singing for Hillary Clinton. She is about out of runway, about out of money, and running short on time. So let me suggest the model for her to follow now-Ted Kennedy 1980. Kennedy finished strong against an incumbent president. He translated this into a primo speaking slot at the convention, gave a memorable speech (often called his “Defense of Liberalism” speech), and moved from the role of presidential aspirant to Senate player and then powerhouse.

Senator Clinton can at this point fight it out to the convention or sulk in her tent, either of which helps the GOP…or she can begin to unify the demo’s and stake out her position as a major party player and capitol hill powerhouse. Maybe it isn’t head of the executive branch, but as can be seen in bios of the great legislators the ability to effectively move legislation to passage is a rare gift. Those that have it have power and influene beyond the title of their office.  Hillary, give it some thought…

Finally-if you are making chili and have the choice between Giant ground beef or Giant Chili Meat, use the latter…the thicker cut beef seems to hold moisture and spices better!

And it is now 1000 hours, and still no pain killers today…let’s hope it keeps up!

Banking of Burke Leapfrogs the Hopsfrog

When I was a kid a magazine wrote about the proliferation of malls and the attendant diminishment of town and neighborhood quality of life by calling it the “Malling of America”.  Something similar to that is happening in Burke, and reminds me that sometimes the purity of political philosophy has to give way to the practicality of everyday life…

We have a shopping center just off Va. 123 in Burke Centre that is the home of this little controversy.  This shopping Center is currently home to a Safeway, a Kohls, a Subway, ABC store, a Coldstream Creamery ice cream.  It is much like other shopping centers.  It also has three freestanding banks, and a fourth through the Sun Trust bank outlet in a Safeway grocery store. 

The shopping center is also home to a locally owned and operated restaurant named the Hopsfrog.  The Hopsfrog is your typical hardwood bar, first cousin to Ruby Tuesdays and the like.  It is a good corporate citizen, supporting several local charities and organizations.  The Hopsfrog sits on a corner pad site and fronts onto Burke Centre Parkway.

It seems that the shopping Center ownership has a chance to put in a fifthbank, but to do it means the Hopsfrog has to go.  The ownership has is prepared to raise the rent on the restaurant to a point Hopsfrog will have to close-just so they can put in a fifth bank…and, of course, make more money.

The project is sort of on hold, as there are questions about traffic impact that have not been answered…and if the traffic questions cannot be answered, then the permits needed to build a bank will not be available.

I am somewhat galled by the whole thing.  Here you have a shopping center that is near if not at 100% occupancy.  You have a restaurant that is a valued asset to our community, and offers a dining experience that you cannot get elsewhere in or near Burke.  If you want your basic American cuisine in an grown-up atmosphere…the  Hopsfrog is it.

Now I know that the shopping center management can do what they want with their property.  They have every right to maximize their profits, land should be used for highest use…right up my alley in terms of economic alternatives.  But you know…sometimes I wish that the absentee landlords and corporations that own the malls and shopping centers and the like would look beyond their pocketbooks and try to maximize community benefits rather than maximize profits.

That last thought surely is not conservative dogma, hence my observation of the conflict between political philosophy and the practicality of everyday life.

I hope the Hopsfrog survives this, because here in Burke we could use a good corporate neighbor with a proven record of political involvement more than another bank.

Wild Eyed Southern Boys at Klines

Sometimes the magical combination of food and music gives you a chance to appreciate what you had and what you have…and if you catch a break, you get to share that moment…

The story really begins 30 years ago.  Like most young boys, when I got my license I was ready to drive anywhere, anytime, and on any errand for my folks.   When I got behind the wheel of the car, two things were certain…it could easily turn into a revenue enhancement opportunity for local government, and there would be Southern Rock playing for the entire trip.  My mother may have had one foot with the Beatles and one foot with Rachmaninoff, and my father liked gospel, but me…I was one with the dueling guitars. 

When I hit the road, Dickie Betts was riding shotgun and Duane Allman and the Van Zant Brothers were in the back seat.  Even as I became pals with Little Feat, Jimmy Buffett, and Thin Lizzy, my first allegiance-through stormy weather, plane crashes, and motorcycle mishaps-were the Southern Boys.

My father didn’t quite get my musical taste, and referred to the groups I liked as those “long haired Redneck Guys”

One evening while I was in college Dad and I headed out to Kline’s Drive-In for our a late evening snack of chili dogs and milkshakes.  I popped in .38 Special, and the first song out was “Wild Eyed Southern Boy”.  I don’t know if it was the music or the cover art, but something got his attention. He had me play the song again, and yet again on the way home. With windows down, warm wind blowing through the car and biting at our ball caps, the the stereo turned “up to 11″, that became our theme song for the rest of the Summer of 1981…although he just referred to it as “that blamed song”

Tempes Fugit…last Monday night my father, now 83, tripped and fell and ended up in the emergency room at PW Hospital. There wasn’t much wrong with him that rest wouldn’t fix, and I checked him out of the hospital after an overnight observation stay.

He seemed sort of wan and weak…and I made a split second diagnosis, based in my thirty+ years practicing as an unlicensed psychologist….

“Dad, there’s only one thing that is going to make you feel better. I prescribe chili dogs.”

He agreed. As we drove out, I turned on my IPod, which by good fortune was on the “Southern Rock” play list. Dad grinned, and said, “you got that blamed song on that thing?”

I did.

We got a sack of chili dogs and wolfed them down so fast we had to address a famous philosophical question: If a man burps in a car, and you don’t see a wrapper, was there ever really a chili dog there?

We headed back into Manassas, with windows down, warm wind blowing through the car and biting at our ball caps, the stereo turned “up to 11″, our once and future theme song blasting for all to hear…just a couple of Wild Eyed Southern Boys. 

For a moment, I knew if I looked up quick I would be able to catch Dicky and the Van Zants in the back seat.

Duane? He is likely be off trying to figure out why his brother married Cher…

My father is 83. He probably can see the clubhouse on a bad day, and I finished the front 9 some years ago. But for a few moments, we were both young again on a warm summer evening with a bellyful of chili and a song in our hearts.

Dickie, Donne, Ronnie, and Duane-thanks for the soundtrack. Kline’s-thank you for catering and for 38 years of teaching me the wisdom of knowing where your next pit-stop will be before eating Chili dogs because, as the late, great Lewis Grizzard once said, “those chili dogs always bark at night.”

Thanks to you all for the memories. Dad and I really appreciate it.

To Paraphrase Conway Haskins…

Happy Thanksgiving, You Princes of Blogs!

Joyous Food Comas, You Kings of New Media!

A safe, joyous, and contented Thanksgiving Holiday to all!

 

…and when you get the chance, pass me the cranberry sauce.

 

 

I Already Miss the Kline Burgers

The words hit me like a a sledge hammer, or a telegram announcing the death of a loved one.

“Klines is closing”

Then my sister sent me the newslink. I mean, if it is on the internet, it has to be true, right?

The sad news-Kline’s Drive-In on Nokesville Road south of Manassas will close its doors on Wednesday, November 21, 2007. Lynn Kline, son of the late Paul Kline, is selling the land so a bank can be built on it and he can step back from the grueling restaurant business.

Those who have not encountered this establishment likely are saying, “So what? Restaurants close every day.”

This is true-but when that closing takes a piece of your life with it, it hurts.

I grew up with the Kline family as members of the Manassas Church of the Brethren. When I was a kid my family went out to Yorkshire to get ice cream at the original Kline’s Freeze. That place, like Carl’s down in Fredericksburg, had no indoor eating area. So they built another store south of manassas in 1969. No one thought the business would last. You had to drive over the RR tracks at Wellington Road, out past the Church of the Brethren and IBM, and past at least three farms to get there.

But it did last. In fact, it flourished.

Kline’s was like the fictional Cheers, a place where “every body knew your name.”

During the summers of my youth Dad would load us up and trawl out there for ice cream. When Dad picked me up at Boy Scout meetings and the pick up was early enough, it was out to Kline’s for foot logn chili dogs. Each of my sons have enjoyed the rite of passage of trying to eat a chocolate fudge sundae at the age of two without getting sauce on your shirt.

I am pushing fifty, and I still have not pulled that one off.

Even now, at 83, my father has been known to call me to come down, rescue him from assisted living, and commence a horizontal assault on Kline’s. We brave the horrendous traffic on southbound Va. 28 and order the usual.

Yes, the chilidog gas comes at him a lot faster now than it used to, but there are somethings that you simply should not deny yourself…like a meal of a footlong chili dog, fries, and a milkshake. It fills you up and keep the cardiologists employed, so it is kind of like multi-tasking.

When I was a child, I didn’t know restaurants or business’s closed. I thought there would always be a Dam-Side restaurant, Cooke’s Pharmacy, General Office Supply, Giacomo’s Pizza, Sloper’s Sports, Rohr’s 5 and Dime, Manassas Lumber, Commonwealth Savings and Loan, and others.

None remain. All have gone, and live on only in memory.

Soon Kline’s, with all the memories it holds for me, will also vanish.

It has been said that growing old stinks. But even worse is to see the building blocks of your memories fall beneath your eyes.  The fact that it is an inevitable part of life and progress does not make it easier.

My hometown has changed over the years, and it no longer resembles the town where I grew up.  But there are bright spots of memory that remind one of the old days…and there will be one less come late Wednesday evening.

Late Wednesday evening, I will likely shed a tear…and unfortunately it probably won’t be caused by the onions on a Kline’s Chili Dog or a Kline Burger.

I guess they are wrong…it doesn’t stink to grow old

But it really sucks.

The Chicken that Almost Blew Her Face Off

It is Labor Day weekend, and the neighborhoods are ripe with the smell of mower gasoline, bug spray, and the smell of grill masters at work.

In my home,  my wife does the cooking and I do the grilling.  We have come to accept that we each have certain gifts when it comes to food preparation…and any activities that potentially involve flammable properties is delegated to me.

However, there was one time when my beloved SWMBO dared to grill…with unusual results.

My wife, the beloved SWMBO, blogged before I did and got me invovled.  She has not blogged in a lon gwhile as grad school has taken up her time.  However, she did take the time back in the day to record her attempt at grilling.

All those who bill be grilling tomorrow-read and heed and don’t forge into unknown territories…

And now, in the interests of public and culinary safety, brought to you from an undisclosed blog location, this is SWMBO’s entry describing her grilling efforts of June 20, 2005…

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Tuesday, June 21, 2005

The Chicken that Nearly Blew My Face Off

Last night, I decided it would be a good idea to fire up the grill to cook a whole chicken. It was a calm, pleasant, even coolish night, and I thought that sitting on the deck would be a great way to spend an early summer evening.

I am a good cook but I have never turned on the gas grill before, and I have never really cooked anything other than a few burgers on the grill. The grilling responsibilities have long since been abdicated to my husband.

Things started off okay. I opened my Paula Deen cookbook, found the recipe for “Beer in the Rear” chicken, and then rinsed, dried, and seasoned the big ‘ole bird. In my brain I was thinking “how hard can it be?” My husband grills a lot…

[Bwana grilling note-for those who have not tried the Beer Can Chicken recipe, the idea is to use the beer can to stand up the chicken.  While cooking, the beer evaporates out of the open can, keeping the chicken moist.]

Well, apparently, it is beyond my capabilities.

I turned the knobs, I hit the ignitor, nothing happened. Called the husband. Turned a few more handles, adjusted some settings, nothing happened. Called the husband. Pulled out my large candle lighter thingy, stuck it in the side of the grill and……..

KABLAM!!

There were bits of hair falling out, a lovely singed smell about me, and a scary new sense of my own mortality. I was so close to really burning my face that I had to sit in stunned silence for several moments while the fire roared in the grill.

[Bwana note-apparently during all the time prior to lighting the flame the gas was on.  While I was not there, apparently the black cloud that went up was not unlike the big explosions at the German fuel dump in "Raiders of the Lost Ark"]

Things didn’t get any better from there.

I turned the flames down, put the chicken on the grill, lowered the lid, and went inside to clean up my hair and to check out the damage. Next thing I know, there was billowing smoke coming from the grill. The flames were so huge that I could barely get the lid open (finally dawned on me to get the oven mitts — duh). I was hesitant to turn the grill completely off because I did NOT want to have to restart the fire and at that point I actually thought I would need to keep cooking the chicken. Ultimately, I turned off the grill because I was about to burn down the house and deck. Even after I turned it off, the flames did not subside for 10 or 15 minutes. Nothing like a little burning chicken fat to really get a fire going.

[Bwana grill note-when grilling something like "Beer in the Rear" chicken, use indirect heat.  If using a gas grill, put the chicken on one side of the grill and only turn on the burner on the other side.  If using charcoal or wood, put an aluminum tray in the middle of the shell and directly under the chicken.  Pile the charcoal/wood on either side.  You get the indirect heat from the charcoal, and the fat drips into the tray.]

The chicken looked like a blackened marshmallow. Torched skin and a raw interior. Scrumptious.

I called husband. He picked up dinner.

I will try again to conquer the grill.

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So far, she hasn’t…but there’s always tomorrow!

Remember, light the candle lighter and then turn on the gas.  If you use charcoal, I recommend you use a chimney for lighting.  Either way, as Sgt. Phil Esterhaus always said “Let’s be careful out there!”

With This, Who Needs Seconds?

I am not a fit person, although I aspire to be one.  I am back on the fitness trail, hit the company fitness center multiple times each week.  But it doesn’t come easy.  You see, I enjoy eating, any my travels around the Commonwealth have allowed me to consume some marvelous food, and often in the most unexpected places.

I have had Jess’ dogs and taken down an entire “what the gang ordered” sandwich at the late lamented Spanky’s around the corner in Harrisonburg.  I have had frozen custard at Carl’s in Fredericksburg as a chaser to dinner at Allman’s barbeque in the same day where I knocked back multiple pulled pork sandwiches at Pierce’s in Williamsburg.  In my mind I genuflect at the mention of the Smoky Pig in Ashland and the Pig and Steak in Madison.  I have consumed Gus Burgers, Motor Burgers, and Cheezy westerns. 

It was a joy for me to down a Muffin Burger at the Meadow Muffin Diner in Stuarts Draft.  I ate a 4AM breakfast at a dive on Broad Street while the manager did maintenance on an electrical bull, and from that experience I learned to always order fried food in any establishment where you are uncertain as to the hygeine of the staff.  While I think Crash Davis should have added the Grand Slam breakfast at Denny’s to his list in “Bull Durham”, I will always remember the Corn Beef Hash omelet I in Bloomsburg, PA at the Lickety Split Diner.   I have consumed ice box pies, shoofly pie, and an experimental pie of undetermined nature at the Lee-Hi truckstop in Lexington that tasted great in the moment and then stayed with me for a week.

 So, as you can see, I have been around… 

However, even with dining habits that have seldom stinted on barbeque, chili dogs, nachos, lasagna, pizza, and other high calorie, there are some things I couldn’t even consider consuming…and this is one of them.

Check the label, and you may ask, as did the divine Ms. Sharp asks, “Is any man this hungry?”  Not only this hungry, but clearly desirous of driving their cholesterol through the roof?  All day breakfast?  Does that mean you can eat it at any time of the day, or that after eating one you have no desire to eat for another 24 hours?

As for me, nah…you have to draw the line somewhere!

But looking at that picture is making me wonder what time lunch is…I had better head to the gym and get those glutinous thoughts out of my head.

Ciao!

P.S. Before my Jaycee pals ring my bell, there is a reason the Vienna Inn and their collection of beer, dogs, and chili-which ranges from amasing to disgusting to subline is not mentioned above.

Simply put, it is not fair to mention amateurs and professionals in the same paragraph.

Let Us Speak of Great Foods…

The Fourth approacheth, and with it the cooking of a variety of great foods.

MSNBC takes a stab at noting the Ten Foods that Make America Great.

Just in case the link dies, they are:

New England Clam Chowder
Pastrami
Shoofly Pie
Smithfield Ham
Po Boys
Fajitas
Chicago Hot Dogs
Chile Verde
San Francisco Sourdough
Olympia Oysters

Note that all have some specific regional connection, creation, or application. All time favorites, like Apple Pie and Pizza, originated elsewhere in the world or do not have the regional flavor that the author is looking for. The food on the list also is in original form unique to a region. Barbeque has so many styles, sauces, and applications, that it would require its own list to do justice.

To that end, I think the Philly Cheese Steak and Crab Cakes from the Chesapeake Bay deserved a listing…