It's Cold Outside - Make This Banana Bread - Go Back to Bed

It's cold outside this morning with a whisper of snow on the ground - we're staying in bed drinking coffee and watching When Harry Met Sally - NOBODY is leaving the house for a while - so, here's a quick bread recipe that you can have in under an hour, using old bananas, along with a few pantry items and some stuff from the fridge - the house smells incredible, we're sniggled up warm and content on this cold April morning - you should be too

The Stuff

• 1.5 cups all purpose flour

• 1 tsp baking soda

• 1 tsp baking powder

• 1 tbsp cinnamon

• 1/2 cup brown sugar

• 1 large egg

• 1/2 cup butter (melted)

• zest and juice of one lemon

• 1/2 cup fresh blueberries

• 4 mushy bananas

• 1 tsp Grand Marnier or orange liqueur

The Technique

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Mix all dry ingredients (sans brown sugar) together in a bowl. Set aside. 

2. Mix bananas in separate bowl. Melt butter and add to bananas then stir to combine. Add egg, orange liqueur and brown sugar. Stir to combine. 

3. Gently add dry ingredients to wet. Stop - Do not over mix! Once combined, carefully fold in blueberries and lemon zest. 

4. Butter a loaf pan, add batter, top with a few more blueberries. Bake for 50 minutes, or until knife comes clean.

5. Allow to  cool in the pan for 10 minutes - turn out - slice, smear with butter, go back to bed.

Don't Get Hangry, Get Natural State Sandwiches

I’m HANGRY. Famished after a long, late-morning workout, I point my car in the direction of downtown Springdale, en route to one of my favorite taqueria destinations on Emma Avenue for a regular fix of authentic Mexican grub. It’s cold, the early-spring cold in the Ozarks that fakes us out every year. Following a weekend of balmy mid-70s temperatures, this Monday is suddenly in the lower 30s, an additional factor fanning the flame of my HANGER.

I slow down as I approach my destination, but the line is long with freezing patrons dancing in place at the walk-up window; and frankly, it’s too cold, and I’m too hungry to wait. I’m panicky, frustrated as I continue west on Emma ­– and then suddenly I catch sight of a large Arkansas-shaped sign to my left, above large windows showcasing crowded, warm indoor seating. I see people eating. I nearly take out three pedestrians as I quickly, frantically, parallel park on the opposite side of the bustling street. Ah, Springdale, a downtown that is becoming my favorite in Northwest Arkansas, chock-full of smart development led by smart, forward-thinking people, and without a doubt, the most diverse of any of her sister cities. Ah, Springdale.

Solemnly, I enter Natural State Sandwiches — as the sign states — and within seconds my icy disposition thaws and blooms into something quite warm and happy. The bearded man at the register, shakes the room with a loud, welcoming voice that encourages everyone to pay attention, lean in and listen up inadvertently. The menu board is pasted with a generous, but not overwhelming, selection of soups, snacks and sandwiches. My nose echoes everything I read – tortellini and tomato soup yields perfumes of chopped fresh garlic and blanched ripe tomatoes; French onion soup evokes the scent of sweet, caramelized onions and rich beef stock; the Pittsburgh sandwich sparks fragrances of salty salami, cheek-puckering pickled vegetables, earthy and deep fried potatoes. I close my eyes for a moment, swaying to the smells and sounds that become beautiful, cramped images in my mind amid the noisy atmosphere of locals having lunch and a sexy amalgamation of contemporary jazz and hip-hop. “Sir, may I help you? Excuse me, sir, may I help you?”

Licking my chops, I step up and place an order of the tortellini and tomato soup, and the Pittsburgh sandwich along with a Coke. Trust that I would have ordered a beer, but the restaurant at the time of publication had not yet acquired a beer and wine license; however, the owners have assured me that said license is coming soon.

I perch myself atop a barstool at a thin counter at the front window, the perfect spot for looking out at Emma Avenue while watching the small dining room equipped with long, wooden communal tables. People are happy, chatting, laughing, enjoying a quick lunch in small clusters with friends and business associates – my mood continues to improve. Then a woman wearing an apron emerges from the kitchen carrying a large bowl of soup and a towering, stratified sandwich.

The soup is delicious, not at all creamy, but pureed to a velvety, bright pool supporting several plump cheese bundles. I dive in face first, nearly inhaling the simple soup that simultaneously warms and coats me from tongue to belly, the experience propelled by the inclusion of the pillowy, soft tortellini. And yes, before lunch was concluded I accidentally anointed myself with a single, dime-sized crimson spot on the lapel of my blazer – a tomato memento of epic, delicious proportions.

But the sandwich was nothing short of sublime — evolving my hangry attitude to happy — stacked over six inches high with griddle-fried salami, egg, melty provolone, hand-cut fries, pickled jalapenos, and vinegar slaw between toasted French bread. I take a deep breath, contemplating the difficult task at hand ­– eating it! I slowly extract the wooden skewer holding everything in place, then press down on the top, expecting to hear a loud accordion sound as I unhinge my jaw like a giant snake, close my eyes (for the second time) and squeeze as much of the Pittsburgh as I can into my mouth. Both elbows are on the bar as vinegar and juice race down my forearms, forming a small puddle as I bite, chew, swallow – then repeat. Without a doubt, this is one the best sandwiches I’ve ever eaten.

The owners of Natural State Sandwiches, Tino (short for Celestino) and Amber Belasco, started their culinary journey in 2014 with the opening of a food truck in Fayetteville. After a couple years of harnessing success, they decided to expand their vision into a brick-and-mortar as part of the burgeoning cultural renaissance happening in downtown Springdale. The husband and wife duo work as a tight, compact well-oiled machine, with Tino manning the front of the house while Amber serves as executive chef, designing recipes and devising weekly menus.

One of the great virtues of the eatery is the owners’ passion for promoting sustainable, local ingredients to ensure the freshest product; hence, the weekly specials bookended by only two sandwiches served on a regular basis – the aforementioned Pittsburgh Sandwich and the Chicken Salad, made with local apples, celery, fresh herbs, embellished with bacon bits, gargantuan onion rings and field greens on locally baked onion bun.

On a recent week, the early spring menu was teeming with items such as the Chicken Berry Brie made with juicy oven-roasted chicken breast, sliced fresh strawberries, spiced pecans, creamy brie cheese, homemade onion rings, and organic balsamic salad on toasted local ciabatta; or perhaps the uber healthy Springtime Sandwich delicately constructed of roasted asparagus, pesto goat cheese, sautéed onions, peppery radish, a local farm egg, more onion rings for crunch and texture, and organic balsamic salad on toasted sourdough; and even incredibly delicious BBQ Sliders of local grass fed beef, cheese, sweet and spicy barbeque sauce on toasted King’s Hawaiian buns. Indeed, a little something for everyone.

So, as much as I whine about the finicky early-spring climate of the High South, perhaps without it I might have missed an opportunity to engage in one of the greatest sandwiches of all time, the Pittsburgh at Natural State Sandwiches in downtown Springdale.  There’s always a sunny side to everything, even in this complicated world where a drop in temperature, a wrong turn, or a long line can inexplicably turn HANGRY into HAPPY.  

*Taken from the April 2018 Issue of Citiscapes Magazine

Chicken and Cigarettes

Fried chicken was an important part of my childhood growing up in a small low Midwestern town in Missouri; of course all of the women in town could put a pretty scald on a chicken thigh, but the collective favorite didn’t come from a home kitchen, but rather from a slew of small restaurants that aligned across the Kansas state line.  The thirty minute drive was always filled with anticipation, often traveling in the car with my grandpa Skippy and granny, country music barely audible as he drove nearly silent while she cackled and smoked a long Winston non-stop through a hairline crack at the top of the passenger window.  Chicken Annie’s or Chicken Mary’s were the two destinations, both resting side by side, only a gravel parking lot separating them.

The ultimate choice was defined by whomever had suggested we make that particular edible pilgrimage, but I never cared, because both had identical virtues….fried chicken, onion rings, and Frontenac bread.  I can fondly recall countless times when someone would say, “Well, Uncle Deano is coming to supper, so I guess we’re all going to Chicken Mary’s…” and it went back and forth like this throughout my childhood and even continues today.  The parking lots were always teeming with cars and trucks on a Friday or Saturday night, harkening diners from just about every socio-economic background in the area, but mostly the blue collar, small town, farming community.  An excursion to Chicken Mary’s or Annie’s wasn’t necessarily a special occasion, but my granny would always take care to apply pouty red lipstick and a splash of flowery perfume behind her neck….and my  grandpa Skippy always wore pressed trousers or jeans with a western shirt tucked in, and his jet black duck-tail perfectly formed. 

There was always a wait on the weekends, but nobody lamented catching up outside with family and friends; the women gossiping in the crowded vestibule while the men smoked cigarettes outside, swapping jokes and stories about the previous week.  Perhaps there’s not a more idyllic memory from my childhood then the fragrances of fried chicken intermingled with cigarette smoke and fresh cut hay from the surrounding prairies.  Although the cigarette smoke has tapered off over the years, to this day when I visit I perform the same important ritual of closing my eyes, head slightly tilted, breathing in my childhood ravenously like a man eating his last supper.

I don’t want you to think that everything on the menu is worthy of a trip to either of these iconic chicken eateries, because frankly, it’s not.  And although I’ve dined at both destinations hundreds of times, I haven’t had everything on the menu…in fact, like most regular guests, I’ve only had (maybe) ten percent of everything that is offered.  But that’s okay, because that small proportion is nothing short of culinary nirvana. 

The chicken is fried dark and thick, stylized in a way like no other on the planet; and even though both have slight nuances on their recipes, they’re similar enough to place in a single category.  I think that Chicken Annie’s is slightly greasier, but given your position and preference, it might be precisely what you’re looking and eating for…as it occasionally is for me.     

The crust is actually crunchy rather than crispy, allowing large chunks to crack and snap under the pressure of incisors, yielding the most perfectly tender, steaming hot and delicious meat of all time.  And I mean that, sincerely, it is the best style of chicken to ever cross these lips.  And although this fried chicken is still delicious in the middle of the night, cold from the fridge, alternating between bites of bird and long pulls of beer (if I’m just getting home) or iced cold milk (if I can’t sleep) in the glow of the interior light; its best right out of the fryer nestled against vinegar based cole-slaw and German potato salad. 

The German cole-slaw and potato salad that is available at both are important staples that hail from the German miners that inhabited the region during the turn of the 20th century.  Miraculously, the tart and sour vinegar in both sides work as a beautiful accompaniment to the fat laden fried chicken, similar to how a pickle works with rich, meaty foods like pate or rillettes.  These are the only two sides that my family will order with the chicken, and for good reason, they’re incredibly delicious…and nostalgic.

In addition to the afore mentioned chicken and sides, there are also two necessary components to complete the Southeast Kansas Chicken experience that include fresh baked bread and fried onion rings.  The bread is served complimentary at every table, and is made at a bakery in Frontenac, a quaint Italian community just a few short miles from Pittsburgh.  (The food happenings in Frontenac deserve their own soon to come feature)  The Frontenac bread is a specimen of local culture and beauty…country loaf in design, with thin dark crust that opens up to pillow soft, slightly sour white bread.  I love it slathered in butter, then embellished with a generous sprinkle of garlic salt, almost as a bread course unto itself.  The onion rings are served in a plastic basket with parchment, thin sliced Spanish onions dredged in flour and fried to a masterful golden brown.  Be sure to load up on napkins because they are as greasy and enjoyable as the day is long in August.

But what about the service?  What about the ambience?  If you’re looking for those things to complete your experience at either of these destinations, don’t waste your time.  The service staff, albeit friendly, are mostly students from nearby Pittsburgh State University and local farm kids.  It’s rather refreshing, because the staff are authentic without being folksy…they’re just real people with real jobs living real lives.  The ambience of both Chicken Mary’s and Annie’s look and feel pretty much like they did in the seventies and eighties, clean but not new, with large portraits of old people adorning the walls next to kitschy emblems of chickens and farm life.  Nothing groundbreaking, but rather a heathy reminder that we’re here to focus on the grub and the people around us.  And honestly, what’s more important than family, friends, and the edible culture of our childhood?                        

Metrobilly Guide to Maintaining Chubby

Everything is a balance - work, life - parenting, relating to our children - the wheels on my vehicle - drinking on weekends, not drinking during the week - and of course the balance between diet and exercise.  I'm squarely in my mid to late forties, so now more than ever I'm watching what and how much I eat.  Like many people, I work out almost daily, as a reward to eat and drink almost anything I want.  For several years my mantra has been that I run 20 to 25 miles a week just to maintain proper "chubbiness" - and although my weight and level of health fluctuates a bit over the course of a year, I adhere to this practice of working out regularly for a number of different reasons, in this order:

1)  It's meditation - I know REAL meditation is about emptying your mind - blah blah blah - but running every morning actually allows me to do just that {to a certain point} while listening to extremely loud music. 

2)  It's a reward - I know that if I work out hard, I can eat whatever the fuck I want without any cause for guilt.  Basically, I have little self control when it comes to all kinds of things, and food is one of them.  "Hey, Case - wanna grab a beer?"  Sure - Let's GO!  "Honey, I'm craving pasta.."  Great - Me too!  "Dad - I'm craving something sweet.."  Well, I'll be - Let's go to Shake's at 9:30pm on a Tuesday night!  See - I have NOTHING to hold me back from those edible cravings - so, running, working out allows me to eat just about anything I want, whenever I want.

3)  I crave it -   I wake up almost every morning, save when I'm hung over or sick, craving my daily run - I'm sure there are endorphins and stuff nudging me forward, but it's something I look forward to - religiously - even though I'm far from religious. 

4)  It's good for me - I know at the end of a long work out that I've done something good for my body, mind - the sweat, the soreness, the stink - these are all not so gentle reminders that I've actually accomplished something physical for the good of myself, and I suppose the people I love.  Fuck yeah, I'm altruistic and thoughtful to boot - I'll take it!

Here's a relatively typically day {yesterday/President's Day} of being on a good path of health for maintaining chubbiness:

6:30am wake-up - coffee, vitamin c, gingko biloba

9am arrival at the gym with reluctant adolescent daughter {GEORGI} - 3 Mile run on treadmill, maintaining 8 1/2 to 9 minute mile - yes, finished a bit in front of me - 20 minutes on the stair-master {I totally kicked her ass here} - 25 minutes of upper body work-out - 20 minutes on the stationary bike - steam and shower. 

Noon lunch at Charley's Taqueria in Springdale - carnitas special with rice, beans, and Negra Modela.  The pork was fork tender, and when embellished with salsa verde and bots of tongue from Georgi's lengua tacos, nothing short of culinary nirvana.

4pm basketball in the driveway with ambitious adolescent daughter {still GEORGI} until about 5pm - walk the dog.  Watch Olympics while working until dinner.

7pm dinner of Spam Fried Rice prepared by better half - she's asked to prepare dinner this week, and this was a "throw-back" dish from her childhood, Arkansas Americana made with SPAM {fuck, yeah}, rice, peas, carrots, and soy sauce, oil - I dunno, she was very secretive - plus, a green salad with tomatoes, cucumbers and a delicious Caesar dressing - NO BREAD {dammit} - and an Ozark APA.  *Side note:  Family competiveness forced us all {sans asshole dog} to leave the table for five minutes, as we argued out of the garage, into the street, around the block about which direction I was pointing when describing something -  upon our return, said asshole dog had licked almost every bit of SPAM from our plates and table, so as you can imagine, I was only allowed HALF of what I would normally have eaten. 

8:30pm - "Dad - I'm craving something sweet.."  Well, damn - Me too - Let's go to Braum's and get a Butterfinger MIX.

10pm - Bedtime - Atlanta Monster podcast - SNORE!

It's that easy, folks - you TOO can have this semi firm, mushy, middle aged body after just a few, short weeks of a healthy balance of proper diet and exercise - just set your sights on the very obtainable goal of CHUBBY.  Last week, a woman at the gym commented, "You work out so hard.." and at first I reflected, wondered if it was because I'm always red-faced, out of breath as if to finish "you work out so hard...I hope you don't have a heart attack"; or if she was actually giving me a compliment.  

Regardless, blood pressure - check.  Stamina - check.  Cholesterol - meh.  Happiness - BIG Check!