I Love Airline Food!

I couldn’t resist the opportunity to post this one. I was on my way to Aruba, flying the friendly skies of American Airlines. They have been my transportation provider of choice for years now, especially to Aruba. On the first leg of the flight, we took off at six in the morning. Naturally, breakfast was served. Here’s a look at what we enjoyed:

In the first place, that omelet was perfect, the eggs fluffy, not dry nor runny. The potatoes were cooked exactly right. The salsa added a bit of zing to an otherwise average breakfast option. The fruit was also perfectly ripe, ready to be eaten with sweet goodness and nutrition. Then, there was a bagel, not the greatest one I’ve had, but considering it came from an airplane galley re-heater, was just fine.

Hence, the result can be seen below:

Yes, mom, I ate everything. If my wife hadn’t closely guarded her plate, I would have eaten hers, too. That makes her angry, so I don’t risk it much anymore.

People like to complain about airline food, and I understand the urge to whine, especially if they remember the good old days. However, consider that the food must be prepared mostly ahead of the flight, re-heated in a galley the size of a closet, and served in conditions that are less than ideal. Add to these challenges, the fact that the primary responsibility of flight attendants is for YOUR SAFETY and you’re left with a situation that leaves much to be desired in the culinary department. Nonetheless, my belly is full, and after wrangling my cat through security, I’ll sleep well on the balance of this flight.

Then, on the second segment, the one that takes me from Miami to Aruba, there is only one thing to do. That’s right, enjoy an ICE-COLD Coca Cola at 35,000 feet.

It’s the real thing no matter what your altitude, latitude, or attitude. So put your seat back, relax, and enjoy flight. We’ll be there in no time. And where we’re going is literally, “Paradise, but not for amateurs,” if I may quote from my own book. Are you ready?

Published in: on July 8, 2008 at 12:38 pm  Comments (2)  
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The Central Lunch

One of the places I remember visiting with my grandfather (the one who worked for Coca-Cola) was the Central Lunch. This little restaurant is located in Weissport, Pennsylvania, USA. In the photo below, you can see the place has recently been painted.

It sits beside the railroad tracks, serving quick meals to whoever happens to pass by. Originally there was a set of double tracks here. The line belonged to the New Jersey Central. On the other side of the building, out of view, is what remains of the Lehigh Canal. Both the canal and the railroad were instrumental in transporting anthracite coal which originated just north of this spot to Philadelphia, New York, and beyond. In those days there was also a fast steam train known as the Black Diamond that ran from Mauch Chunk (now called Jim Thrope, PA) to New York City. It provided regular service for the mine owners to meet the financiers of Wall Street.

In my short story titled Big Iron Holiday, two friends used to race each other along the tow path of the canal. The winner had to buy the other a slice of pie at the Central Lunch. Well, in the story, they are now adults, and the year is 1918. Ellsworth (“E.L.”) Botcher works for the railroad as the superintendent of a wreck crew. His pal Edward (Ned) Fry joined up with some other Americans to become a pilot during the First World War. As the story opens, it is Christmas Eve, the war is over, and Ellsworth is returning from a job with his crew. As they approach the Lehigh Water Gap he spots an airplane. Sure enough, it is Ned Fry, always a crafty character. And so, it is the iron horse versus the flying machine as they race yet again to the Central Lunch, just ten miles up the tracks, on the evening before Christmas.

I’ll have to figure out how to post longer entries like Big Iron Holiday. Then I’ll put it up for all to read. Ultimately, I’d like to turn this story into a book about these two men. Something like… Ellsworth climbs through the ranks of the railroad. Ned ends up flying airplanes for Hollywood and performing other crazy stunts. Ellsworth deals with the tragedy of train wrecks and boiler explosions, witnessing the death of a young protege that leaves him bitter but determined to press on as America becomes an industrial giant. Ned suffers his own losses as the movie business uses his talent but denies him stardom. The novel would culminate in World War II, D-Day, when both of them are much older men. Ellsworth, now a powerful railroader, helps organize logistics for Eisenhower. Ned begs him to use his influence to get him a spot in a fighter squadron. But they’re both too old, and too valuable, to be placed in such danger. They have to face the reality that their days of glory are behind them and that younger men are not only capable, but willing, to do the hard and bloody work of defending a nation.

All this from a stop at the Central Lunch. You never know where a good story will pop up.

Published in: on July 1, 2008 at 12:36 am  Comments (1)  
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The Way to Go

The cleverness of cats should never be underestimated. As the old joke goes, the ancient Egyptians worships cats, and cats have never forgotten it. I’m not sure what other animal can make this claim to fame. There I was in Cuenca, Spain, looking for a little place to eat, when I spotted this cat. I figured he was on his way to a snack or a nap. (Two things I also happen to enjoy, usually in that order.)

My gray and white short haired friend got to the top of the stairs, hung a left, and leaped into an open window! Brilliant for him but I was clearly not invited. As for me, well, I was on my own. Luckily, just down the lane was a narrow restaurant I might never have found. (You see, that was the cat’s plan, to show me the way and leave the bill to my account.) It turned out to be a good place to practice Spanish for this native English speaker. The waiter asked me a dozen questions, everything from where I was from to why had I come to Cuenca to where I was going next. He was an affable fellow. Like so many Spaniards I meet in my travels, he was intensely proud of his culture and immediate family.

After the meal I was back on the streets, looking for more interesting things, keeping a sharp eye for cats and other sneaky creatures.

Published in: on June 27, 2008 at 11:54 am  Comments (1)  
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The Best Philadelphia Cheesesteak

This post actually continues where the one about the best roast pork sandwich left off. As mentioned previously, John’s Roast Pork in Philadelphia is the oracle of the griddle, the mecca of artery mashing food. And so, we come to THE BEST PHILADELPHIA CHEESESTEAK, and again, bar none, John’s produces it. Don’t even entertain the idea of going to those other joints you’ve seen on the Travel Channel or some other half-baked joint written up in a lame journal of culinary culpitude.

Here it is, in all it’s glory:

This is a better photo than the one I had from the pork sandwich. (Rest assured, that pork sandwich is drop dead good and just as loaded as the one above. Trust me and my heart surgeon. I am not kidding.) Notice the fullness, the lean beef, the melted-in provolone. Is this thing just the greatest or what? Yeah, I put some sauce on it, too. There’s hot peppers and fried onions integrated into the mix while on the grill. The flavor permeates the first layer of that handsome roll. The crust stands firm, yielding the subtlety of sesame seeds on the outside and meaty freshness on the inside.

Here’s a closer shot:

I mowed this down one bite at a time. My wife, to my astonishment, managed to finish one of her own. Impressive. However, no one beats my cousin. He was working with me on the pier one day and we came here for lunch. He ate two (yeah, that’s double, dos, a two-fer) on that day. This was something to behold and he nearly blacked out. The guy knows what he likes and likes what he knows.

Anyway, always enjoy your cheesesteak with ICE COLD Coca-Cola. Everything is better that way.

Published in: on June 25, 2008 at 12:49 pm  Comments (4)  
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