Posts by author: Casey

Please don’t call me a stupid girl, but science was never my favorite subject in high school. Despite childhood obsessions with dinosaurs, the NASA space program, and the process of mummification (yes, they did remove the brains through the nose with knitting-needle-style hooks), my interest in becoming a real archaeologist or physicist faded once I had to memorize more than the behavior of protons, neutrons, and electrons.

So imagine my surprise when I discovered that making caramel, a highly scientific process, is one of my favorite kitchen party tricks.

Caramel is basically two ingredients: sugar mixed with cream. Sounds so simple, right? But there’s a clever chemistry that makes the business a bit trickier than you’d think, and here’s why.
>> Read on to learn the trick to no-fail caramel sauce. >>

Curing and smoking my own bacon has been on my to-do list for at least a year and a half. It was always in the back of my mind, even though things like making yet another flavor of ice cream or figuring out a cardoon recipe kept taking precedence. As winter turned to spring, I saw two luscious pounds of Niman Ranch pork belly at the butcher counter and promptly stashed ‘em in the freezer. The bacon day would come soon.

But after testing recipes from the grilling, bbq, and smoking primer She-Smoke earlier this spring, I realized my gas grill just wouldn’t be able to produce the rich flavor that I love so much in Niman Ranch’s applewood smoked bacon. Sigh. I would settle for nothing less than perfect bacon. What to do?

Generous husband Dan, who’s quickly overfilling the basement with Mike Piazza figurines, gave me that opportunity when he let me tag along on a lunch date with fellow sports and memorabilia enthusiast Paul Lukas of Uni Watch. See, Paul is one of two people I know who own a Big Green Egg, one of the best (maybe the best) smoking apparatus around.

Plus, he’s the creator of this shirt—say no more. So over a plate of kolbassi at Clifton’s Rutt’s Hut, we made a vague plan for summer smoking.
>> How the bacon-smoking went down, after the jump. >>

Gotta admit that I’m a little nervous today, folks. I’m about to talk about Primanti’s, my favorite sandwich of all time. This sandwich, this divine towering paragon of all that a meal should be, is the one foodstuff I crave more than any other and the one thing I make a beeline for every time I visit the old Pittsburgh homestead.

Though less famous than Heinz ketchup or Klondike bars, Primanti Bros. (although no one says the “brothers” bit and just calls it “Primanny’s,” if you want to get your ‘Burgh accent going) is just as influential to Pittsburgh’s culinary history.

Based in the Strip District—home to the city’s wholesale food warehouses—since the 1930s, Primanti’s now has outposts throughout the greater Pittsburgh area and (somewhat inexplicably) Fort Lauderdale, FL.

The legend goes that the Primanti brothers got into business feeding the truckers who dropped goods off in the Strip during the wee hours of the night leading into morning. The truckers were starving, so the bros packed the sandwich to the gills to give the guys a full meal that they could also hold in their hands while driving. (Although how one person could eat a Primanti’s samwidge and drive is beyond me—it takes me two hands just to get through one half—and the official bio skims past those details.)

However it went down, the Primanti siblings had lightning in a pan—er, on a griddle—and now everyone in Pittsburgh eats at Primanti’s. I remember stopping in before a They Might Be Giants show around the corner at Metropol to see Sally Wiggin, the Katie Couric of the Pittsburgh news anchor scene, wolfing one down with the common folk.

So with all of this background, aren’t you dying to know what makes up a Primanti’s sandwich and why it’s so killer?

>> Come on, don’t you want to know why a Primanti’s sandwich is the best? >>

I have two more years left in New York City before and want you to help me put together my NYC bucket list. What are the essential dining experiences in the city—that is, where/what should I make SURE I’ve had before I leave town?

It’s almost an impossible task to categorize and then tackle every quintessential New York experience—but that hasn’t stopped me from trying. (I did this when I was prepping to leave Chicago after grad school ten years ago, too. Restrict yourself to a student budget for an extra challenge!)

What follows is a highly subjective, ever-evolving list of moments and meals that remain indelibly classic from my incessant trawling over the past decade. It’s a mix of high and low and more than enough to get you started for the next two years.

The rundown is tres Manhattan-centric because that’s been the bulk of my experience, but each venue tries to recapture the exhilarating soaring wash of realization that makes you want to stand on a street corner and yell, “New York is the greatest city in the world!”
>> What are the can’t-miss New York restaurants? Read on. >>

You might have seen it on menus as a red beer, red-eye, tomato beer, or red rooster. You might have seen Beau Bridges pour himself a tall one in Jerry Maguire (boy, my pop culture references keep getting worse and worse). You might have shuddered at the thought of tomato juice getting anywhere near a brewed beverage, but I say, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.

I’ve always called it a bloody beer, a play on the classic Bloody Mary cocktail and so-called by the alcoholic who introduced me to the drink. (So many lessons learned from that time in my life, but that’s one of the most positive. We keep it classy here at GFS.)

And though I’m not a brunchophobe like my co-editor Danielle, and though I do love spice (and celery!), I vastly prefer this version to the Bloody Mary.
>> Wait, just beer and tomato juice? Who invented this? >>