The Rake Magazine

My 16-year-old daughter has a new interest in The Ramones and The Clash. She also has a huge Ferris Bueller poster in her room.

It's odd when the things of your past become the fascination of a new generation. I'm just glad she can't get a hold of most of the food I ate in the 80's.

Magic Shell Ice Cream Coating
Chocolate sauce that hardens into a shell on your ice cream. Tasted and looked like plastic.
McDonals's McDLT
Strange attempt at a freshburger. They came in an odd styrofoam container that separated the meat from the lettuce and tomato to keep the hot side hot and the cold side cold.
California Coolers/Bartle & Jaymes
Wine coolers. Yes, in 2 litre bottles. Yes, with a fake id.
Astro-Pop
Cone shaped lollipop with three layers of flavor.
Five-Alive Juice
Mixed from concentrate, a five juice blend. It tasted like fruit punch.
King Vitamin
I was never allowed sugar cereals, even this one that was supposed to be "good for you" so I ate this at my friend Lori's house.
New York Seltzer
We thought we were so healthy, so cool drinking seltzer with a hint of flavor. It was basically clear pop.
Fruzen Gladje
I think it was like frozen yoghurt or something. I just liked the name.

Giggles Cookies
Remember the Oreo-like cookies with the laughing faces? We used to pull them apart and stick them to the walls.
Hostess Puddin' Pies
Where are those puddin' pies now, I could really go for one.
SizzleLean
"Move over bacon, now there's something leaner!"
Steak-Ums
Flat, frozen meat-sheets in a box. I never really liked these, but I think my sister did.
Pop Shoppe, Rondo, and Shasta (I want a thrill, I want wow, I want it all, I want it now! I want a pop...I want a ....Shasta!)
Wrapples
I forced these on my own kids one year. It's the sheet of caramel that you wrap over an apple, jam a popsicle stick in the top, and bake in the oven for easy caramel-apples. Chewy, eeewwy, and lame.

just a few bites of info...

Did you see our local pals from the Oceanaire Seafood Room mentioned in the New York Times article about the sudden proliferation of $40 entrees? The star of the article is a 1 3/4 ounce lobster dish from The Modern in NYC. It is priced at $42. When you compare the high-lighted Oceanaire dish (the Arctic Char, a whole fish for $38.50) it hardly seems comparable. My favorite quote from the piece ... "Forty is the new 30".

On a completely different bend, the Minnesota Department of Agriculture has created a new directory of organic farms. The list provides information on 208 of the state's certified organic farms. It was created mainly for food professionals and chefs, but that doesn't mean that we all shouldn't get to know the names and products of our organic friends.

Can we, just for a second, try to understand what Tyler Florence is doing with Applebee's?

He's created four dishes that they've themed "Huge Flavor" by Tyler Florence.

On the website they show him shopping at a market and chopping tomatoes (with an Applebee's embossed knife) before he gently slices through the fresh mozzarella that he's putting in your dish. All the quotes say things like "I quickly sear ..." or "I flatten the chicken..."

Are there people who really believe that he's cooking for them? Is there anyone who even believes that he's coached the cooks who are making these dishes? Or that any of the food product comes from anything resembling a fresh market?

I had to see what was being delivered. I went to an Applebees and tried the herb-crusted chicken: "I coat a whole chicken breast in a light Panko crust and Italian seasonings and top it off with a baby arugula salad mixed with grape tomatoes and fresh mozzarella."

The plate was pretty enough, better looking than the dead yelow-green Caesar salad my friend had. But the Panko crust was both greasy and burned on one edge. The actual chicken itself was thin and dry. There was plenty of arugula and tomatoes, but only a few pieces of fresh mozz.

Not that I expected more. When I asked the server what Panko was, she said bread-crumbs. When I joked, why don't they just call them bread crumbs, she replied "They're from France or something." Huh.

I'm glad that people who wouldn't normally recognize a chef's name are being exposed to arugula and Panko. But without training and sincerity, all you're doing is patting yourself on the back.

And what about your name, Mr. Florence? Or is the exposure and cross-promotion of your latest book worth an assignation of low-quality? Don't worry, they're not really your restaurants are they, you can shrug off culpability as soon as you move to your next project or tv show.

Learn from the mistakes of Rocco DiSpirito: You reap what you sow.

It's a beautiful thing that, in this country, everyone can have an opinon. Want to see freedom of speech exercised? Just ask a few people in Philly who has the best cheesesteak.

As far as the media is concerned, it comes down to Pat's or Geno's. As far as the construction workers, the students, the hairstylists, the office workers, the park rangers and dog walkers are concerned, there are no crowned kings.

There are deli shops and steak shops and sandwich stands and hot trucks all over the city and most of them offer their own version of the city's favorite icon. Maybe it has to do with which stand is closest to your work, or maybe it's your personal feeling about the kind of cheese used, but everyone has a definitive preference.

I have to say that I've had some good hot truck sandwiches, and that the Pat's, Geno's, Rick's, Jim's debate is sound and possibly never-ending. But the best steak I had was brought to me by a friend from D'Alessandro's in Roxborough. The beef was tender, the roll was fresh and chewy and didn't sog-out. Sometimes the cheese overpowers, but not with this one. And the onions didn't taste like grill oil, they were sharp with an inch of sweetness.

I must admit, on the journey I did stray and fall in love with the other sandwich of the city: the roasted pork sandwich...particularly at Chubbies (5826 Henry Ave).

Dateline: Philadelphia

I'm here in the City of Brotherly Love for a few days and I have to say this is clearly a food town. Maybe not a food town like San Fran or New York where it's almost a tourist trade, but more like a food town full of serious eaters.

I'm not going to weigh in on the whole Philly Cheese Steak, Pat's vs. Gino's, thing yet. That's lunch tomorrow.

What I do love is the proliferation of "hot trucks" on every corner. Hot egg and sausage sandwiches, Italian grinders, sausage and peppers all nicely wrapped in foil for easy noshing as you walk by Independence Hall or check out the Franklin Museum.

And the Philly pretzel will be my thickening downfall. Doughy, salty, hot, somehow better than the weak and plastic-like knots in New York that always smell burned.

Stephen Starr is the local restaurant luminary, owning a small empire that includes Buddakan which he has recently exported to NYC. Cocktails at The Continental Midtown were fun and sassy, but small. A quick bite at Jones was satisfying and comfortable, but still innovative (potato pancakes, crispy calamari salad). Next: Morimoto and sushi love.