Posts tagged eggs

Tio Wally Eats America: Dancing Eagle Restaurant & Casino

I’m happy to have Tio Wally (long-time Me So Hungry reader) aboard to send in his eating adventures from across America. Here he is in Casa Blanca, New Mexico.

Greetings from Casa Blanca, New Mexico
N 35° 01.981’ W 107° 28.577’ Elev. 5,951 ft.

I’d been working on a different Me So Hungry post wherein I mentioned Pork Chops and Eggs. Ever since I wrote the words pork chops and eggs I’d been craving them.

So there we were, cruising Route 66 (I-40 in New Mexico), “The Mother Road” of song, fame and fable. That’s when we received the omen, the harbinger of good things that may well come our way.

Okay, so it wasn’t actually anything remotely supernatural or even mildly unusual. It was a billboard flogging a Pork Chops and Eggs special at one of the myriad casinos owned and operated by Native Americans in New Mexico.

But it said $6.99 and showed two pork chops on the plate. And it was served ’til 2 p.m. We were in time, there was plenty of parking, and the Laguna Pueblo tribe needed our money.

My evil twin Skippy and I had stopped at the Dancing Eagle Casino before. Then we found out the special was only available across the street at the casino, not the truck stop side. But it was so hot it would’ve been an oppressive walk across the street and an even more torturous trek back to the yacht afterward. We passed.

This time the weather was glorious. As we set out walking we discovered a shuttle that’ll deliver street sailors to the casino and back. Yea! What service.

As we got in the shuttle I thought Skippy was going to pull a real faux pas, as he’s wont to do. The driver had the radio set to the Native American-owned radio station out of Window Rock, Arizona. It’s a bizarre station.

For many years it was the only radio signal that could be picked up reliably in western New Mexico and eastern Arizona. The station plays the occasional schlock pop and then a lot of Native American music which, to me, sounds a lot like chanting to interminably monotonous drumming. I suspect that it sounds that way to me because that is exactly what it is. I always thought it’d probably sound pretty hip … if I were held prisoner in a hogan hopelessly zoned on peyote.

So we get in the van and the radio is playing the most caricatured rhythm in Native American music. That’s when Skippy turns to me and starts mouthing “HI-how-are-ya, HI-how-are-ya.” Oy veh. Thankfully, we made it to the casino without incident and quickly found the restaurant.

Every casino on the planet really needs your money, so deals on food are de rigueur. But I’ve found that the Native Americans have a slightly different take on the program. It seems their motto is “We don’t care. We don’t have to.” As a result the service usually sucks, the food is sub-crappy. It’s generally an experience best avoided.

The Dancing Eagle Restaurant however quickly exceeded my expectations. We were seated toot sweet by a friendly hostess, who treated us with genuine warmth and respect. Likewise, our waitress, Roxanne, was genial and cheerful.

The Pork Chops and Eggs came as advertised, almost. The difference was that on the billboard it showed hash browns (I think). My plate came with sliced, fried potatoes with little bits of onion and bell pepper. I really wanted hash browns; I love hash browns. But that’s okay. I was so hungry that I didn’t want to complain or send it back.

The pork chops were two boneless breakfast chops, which were great. While I thought the eggs were on the puny side, they were cooked adequately. The deal came with a choice of toast or a biscuit, which I opted for.

The biscuit was a whole wheat thing, I think, and possibly the densest biscuit I’ve ever met. But it was really great. I cut it in half, slathered it with Real® butter and drizzled honey on it. Had I not been on a tight schedule I would’ve asked for another one. And maybe some hash browns.

I thought this was really weird: On the single-serving package of ©Kraft Foods Pure Honey was a warning: DO NOT FEED HONEY TO INFANTS UNDER ONE YEAR OF AGE. Whaaa?

In all, the Pork Chops and Eggs special was a pretty decent deal. But the real deal may be across the street on the truck stop side. They advertise a Laguna Burger, a half-pound hamburger with lord knows on it for $3.99; I couldn’t tell by the artist’s conception on the many billboards.

I suppose I should try one next time I’m through and report back. And I will, unless it’s Tuesday and I get two chili cheese dogs for $2.

And so we roll.

Dancing Eagle Restaurant, I-40 Exit 108, Casa Blanca, New Mexico

Tio Wally pilots the 75-foot, 40-ton(max) land yacht SS Me So Hungry. He reports on road food from around the country whenever parking and InterTube connections permit.

Tio Wally Eats America: Home Plate

I’m happy to have Tio Wally (long-time Me So Hungry reader) aboard to send in his eating adventures from across America. Here he is in Morgan, Colorado.

Greetings from Fort Morgan, Colorado

N 40° 15.144’  W 103° 46.4839’  Elev. 4,312 ft.

We’re having issues out here.

The Home Plate 2 restaurant is a great place to park the power unit while the crew of the SS Me So Hungry waits, and waits, and waits … and waits a little longer for the gentle folks across the way to mercilessly kill a bunch of (hopefully) blissfully unsuspecting cattle, dress them out with industrial methodicalness, and load boxes of pieces — many, many pieces; 43,000 pounds (21.5 tons) of pieces — of their former carcasses into a bigger box, this one with wheels, refrigerated to a brisk 29 degrees.

Still, it’s not that much fun.

I’ve eaten at the Home Plate 2 many times, usually ordering a #19: Crispy Chili Rellenos (Smothered). At $7.50 for two rellenos, rice, beans, chips and salsa, and tortillas (on request), it’s a great deal. The green chili on top is great, too.

The chiles are the delightfully picante Anaheims that are ubiquitous to the Southwest. Lightly battered and fried to the perfect crispness, they come smothered in an awesome green chili, one that is every bit as worthy as the green chili served at the famed Gray’s Coors Tavern in Pueblo.

The last time I was here, after having the Rellenos, I took a nap and went back in just before they closed and ordered a Prime Rib Sandwich to go. It was on the Specials board for (I think) $7.95. Served with fries, I figured I’d scored.

My plan was to eat the sandwich and, since I would be waiting for awhile, go back to sleep. Life would be grand. Then I got back to the yacht and opened the box.

While the portion of prime rib was generous, it was so well-done that it didn’t taste like prime rib anymore. I don’t know why but once prime rib is cooked anything beyond medium it ceases to taste like prime rib. It’s a mystery only Alton Brown could solve.

This time I went in wanting breakfast. Knowing how much I loved the green chili served on the rellenos I ordered a Hamburger Patty & Two Eggs ($5.15) and got it smothered for an extra 95¢. How could I lose? It says right on the menu: It’s Fabulous Smothered for 95¢ Extra. Served with hashbrowns and (as I selected) a biscuit and gravy, I knew I couldn’t possibly go wrong. I was going to get a Slopper with my eggs! Yum.

I don’t know what happened during the wait, but the chili I was served was not green, or remotely fabulous. I even asked the waitress, “Is this green?” Despite her assurance to the contrary, it was indeed red. Look at the picture! And it sucked.

The predominate flavor in the “green” chili was red chili powder that tasted like it came from The Dollar Store; 24 ounces for only $1! And it had very few chunks of pork in it, though the ones that were there were tender. Still, I can’t believe she claimed it was green. Sheesh. Talk about time for an Ishihara Color Blindness test.

When sailing the vast Sea of Streets it’s sometimes very, very difficult to find food that’ll make you feel good, sate you. And it seems to run in stages, like a bad cold or the flu, or grief. When it happens it sucks. It really, really sucks.

There is a meme going around on Facebook lately where people are listing what they’re grateful for. Well, I’m grateful I’m not a hapless bovine being industrially processed into my component parts to grace your dinner table. Or worse, your hamburger bun.

And so we roll.

Home Plate 2, 19719 Highway 34, Fort Morgan, Colorado

and Home Plate 1, 306 Edmunds Street, Brush, Colorado.

Tio Wally pilots the 75-foot, 40-ton(max) land yacht SS Me So Hungry. He reports on road food from around the country whenever parking and InterTube connections permit.

Tio Wally Eats America: Fried Eggs and Peanut Butter

I’m happy to have Tio Wally (long-time Me So Hungry reader) aboard to send in his eating adventures from across America. Here he is in Galena, Missouri.

Greetings from Galena, Missouri

N 36° 47.079’  W 093° 30.350’  Elev. 885 ft.

Here’s yet another installment of the SS Me So Hungry Shore Leave files.

This one should probably be entitled Culinary Collisions or When Comfort Foods Collide because it has to do with the weird things people eat. Everybody pairs or combines improbable foods that they say taste great together, although the thought of them may make many others all-but nauseous. But still, to them they’re Comfort Food.

For instance, I have a friend whose favorite comfort food is Guinness® Stout and Chocolate Ice Cream. When he first told me about it I thought he was mixing them together and making a milkshake, a Stoutshake, if you will. He said he ate them separately together but, much like the beer milkshake Doc Ricketts ordered in John Steinbeck’s Cannery Row, he thought a Chocolate Stoutshake was a great idea.

In another bastardization of perfectly good beer another friend had a Sunday tradition of mixing Beer and Orange Juice. Calling it a Poor Man’s Mimosa, he immediately pulled out the old saw — “Don’t knock it ’til you try it!” — when my nose crinkled and eyebrows furrowed into the internationally recognized signal for “Ewwww!”

Other examples of Culinary Collisions include my mother’s beloved Fritos® and Buttermilk (which I’ve never tried), and a longtime roommate’s abominable treatment of a truly venerable institution: the Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwich. I only became aware of her near-criminal defacement of the much-revered and -adored icon when she had to make a special run to the store so she could make a PB&J.

We’ve got bread, we’ve got peanut butter, we’ve got jelly, I said. “I know,” she replied, “but we’re out of lettuce.” Huh? She dashed off and returned carrying a head of iceberg lettuce. When I asked what she needed it for she replied, “For that crunch.”

Now, everyone I’ve ever met has known since childhood that you put potato chips on your PB&J “for that crunch.” But no, she used freakin’ iceberg lettuce. That, my friends, is not a culinary collision, it’s a taste-treat train wreck.

I know I shouldn’t cast aspersions on other peoples’ comfort foods, especially when I’ve seen noses crinkled and eyebrows furrowed at the mention of my favorite comfort food: Fried Eggs and Peanut Butter.

I was introduced to this truly delectable delight when I was a kid by my toothless, 70-year-old-plus maternal grandmother. I don’t remember if she ate it every morning or it just seemed like it. Nevertheless, I tried it as a kid and have been eating it ever since. It’s definitely one of those “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it” foods.

Here’s how to make it correctly: Fry eggs over-easy, the runnier the yolks the better. While the eggs are frying, put a generous glob of peanut butter on your plate. When the eggs are done lay them directly on top of the peanut butter; this will help melt the peanut butter a little. Then mash hell out of them until they are thoroughly mixed.

This little collision — a mash-up — of improbable flavors is great all by itself, or with crackers or toast. Pair it with raisin bread toast with apple butter and you’ve got pure nirvana. Trust me.

Regardless of what you may think of my favorite culinary collision/comfort food it will never be as bad as my former roommate’s PB&J, much less the Poor Man’s, no, Ghetto Mimosa. You see, those verge on the obscene. Even by my standards.

But who’s to say what’s good or not? Undoubtably there are weirder combinations people enjoy. In fact, if you have one, please let me know what it is in the comment section. But its got to be real and not some concoction made from whole cloth; you have to actually eat it.

If it’s really interesting or weird or completely improbable you may win a coveted and cherish-able postcard — a collector’s item! — sent to you from somewhere in America by the cast and crew of the SS Me So Hungry. ‘Til then, bon appétit!

And so we roll.

Tio Wally pilots the 75-foot, 40-ton(max) land yacht SS Me So Hungry. He reports on road food from around the country whenever parking and InterTube connections permit.

Tio Wally Eats America: Powhatan Restaurant

I’m happy to have Tio Wally (long-time Me So Hungry reader) aboard to send in his eating adventures from across America. Here he is in Pocahontas, Illinois.

Greetings from Pocahontas, Illinois
N 38° 49.723’  W 089° 32.846’  Elev. 545 ft.

I’ve slept in Pocahontas many times over the years. And I may have eaten at the Powhatan, Pocahontas’ premier — only — restaurant before, but if I did it was well over ten years ago and I really don’t remember it.

I do remember, however, that the last time I was here it was nighttime and I took pictures of the “RESTAURANT” sign on the back of the building. I was really tired and I felt the sign, partially ablaze in bright red, was encouraging me to vent. With six of the 10 letters burnt out, the sign read only “RANT”. I was too lazy to get out of the yacht to take the photos and thus ended up with two or three beautiful shots of flash glare off the windshield.

And so it goes.

This time I stopped because, heading west, I didn’t want to deal with the morning rush hour cluster that is St. Louis at that time of day. Plus, I was hungry.

I stopped in the Powhatan and ordered a Country Breakfast Platter called “Gretchen’s Favorite” ($8.95). I don’t know but the Gretchen in “Gretchen’s Favorite” may be in honor of a local celebrity, country singer Gretchen “Redneck Woman” Wilson, who was born in Pocahontas.

The breakfast platter consisted of three eggs, two pork chops, fried apples, hash brown casserole, and biscuits with milk gravy. Although I knew what I’d ordered, I was still surprised when the plate came out. My reaction was: “That’s a lot of food!”

The eggs, which I’d ordered over easy, were a little overcooked; I like ‘em runny, honey. The pork chops were average-sized breakfast chops. Although they were thin, they were incredibly tender and tasty. The fried apples were a great compliment to the chops. Very cinnamon-y, they were more like a strudel filling or something.

The hash brown casserole was good but got tiresome after a while. It’s made with hash browns that tasted homemade, onion, bell pepper, and topped with a generous amount of melted cheddar cheese. When I go again I’ll probably just get regular hash browns because they’re so good.

The biscuits and gravy were absolutely awesome. Although the biscuits were on the small side, they were great and the milk gravy was some of the best I’ve ever had. It had great flavor and was not overly thickened, the perfect consistency in fact. I can easily see myself going back just for biscuits and gravy.

The Powhatan restaurant— Powhatan was Pocahontas’ father — is really homey inside, with wood floors and booths. And the service is excellent.

While I was there they played nothing but Louis Armstrong and Frank Sinatra music. I mention this only because I was blessed that they played only early Sinatra recordings, the ones made during that brief time when The Chairman of the Bored still managed to sing either in tune or in close proximity thereof. (My humble opinion and succinct critique of the grossly overrated Sinatra: Frank stank.)

When I went up to pay the bill I was thinking I was going to get a discount based on some genealogical information recently revealed to me by my sister. So I asked the cashier: Do I get a discount for being related to Pocahontas? “No,” she said. “This is a different Pocahontas than you’re thinking of.”

What? How many Pocahontases could there possibly be? She then when on to claim Pocahontas, Illinois was named after the Pocahontas Coal Mine, whose shafts honeycomb the ground below the entire town. Wikipedia, however, says it was indeed named after my distant relative, Pocahontas, the fabled Native American heroine of lore, which makes a lot more sense being as the town was founded nearly 60 years before the mine was established.

Regardless, it was a great meal at a great price even without a discount … which I was surely entitled to: After all, if I’m related to Pocahontas I’m related to Powhatan, too.

And so we roll.

Powhatan Restaurant, I-70 Exit 36, Pocahontas, Illinois

Tio Wally pilots the 75-foot, 40-ton(max) land yacht SS Me So Hungry. He reports on road food from around the country whenever parking and InterTube connections permit.

I ate a Balut Egg (VIDEO)

I’ve always wanted to try a balut egg (Wikipedia: “A balut is a fertilized duck embryo that is boiled alive and eaten in the shell.”) Luckily the East Village is thriving with three new Filipino restaurants. I went to Krystal’s Cafe 81 on 7th St. Balut is two for $5 or one for $3. I had to have a few drinks before and this is what happened…

I haven’t watched this video and kinda don’t want to. But… I remember it tasting like a chunk of boiled pork on a hard boiled egg. There was a rubbery piece on the bottom. The slurping of the soup when I first cracked it had a nice brothy flavor. Apparently, it’s just boiled with nothing special, so I was surprised at the flavor of the juice. I kinda wished I pulled out the embryo to see if there was a shape of a body, but maybe it was good I didn’t and just chomped down on it.

The young Filipino guy next to me said he used to eat these everyday …preferably with developed with feathers, but no way if there were bones. Thank goodness I had the bartender and this guy guide me through. I’m glad I did it.

I also ordered the Pork Adobo, which was super tender. I bet the sauce would be fantastic on rice, but I’m avoiding white carbs in my current diet. Buffing up.

By the end, I was a little tipsy, weak from being carb-less and my breath smelled like fertilized duck embryo. Then I was late to my blind group date via this new dating site Grouper. I had a good time. I remember was there was a labyrinth.

Krystal’s Cafe 81 – 81 E 7th St (btwn 2nd & 1st Ave) New York, NY 10003

Crack an Egg on a Frozen Pizza

I think it was my friend Sam Zide that gave me the idea to crack an egg on a frozen pizza before putting it in the oven. I used my favorite frozen pizza –Jeno’s Supreme Pizza. The crust comes out so good and it’s so cheap. Splash on some Tobasco and dang, it’s awesome. The easiest brunch I’ve ever made.


Hard Boiled Alien Egg

I tried to dye some eggs today.

Building on Bond Brunch

I met up with Yoshie, Rob and Baby Cormac for brunch at Building on Bond. I haven’t had a traditional brunch in so long. Pulled Pork Hash Benedict was good. The oozing poached egg yolk running over my pork. I want more though.

Building on Bond – 112 Bond St (@ Pacific St) Brooklyn, NY 11217
Ramen and Friends’ cross-post