To celebrate what will probably be my only Restaurant Week experience this week, my friend Bob and I ventured down to the Barracks Row section of Capitol Hill to lunch at Belga Cafe today. What a fun place!
Belga (the G is hard, as in 'gate') Cafe opened around Halloween last year in that Eighth Street strip of southeast Washington, right by the Shakespeare Theater administrative offices. The chef-owner is the young, tall, and very handsome Bart Vandaele, a Belgian national who has been cooking in various diplomatic venues in the District since about 2000. We saw him quite a bit at lunch today, since the kitchen is designed to be completely open to view so we could see him cooking, and he also came out into the dining room several times, sometimes to greet guests, sometimes to do work (once we saw him straightening askew chairs on the front patio). He was wearing an unusually cut white chef's jacket, but instead of the traditional houndstooth patterned trousers, he wore blue jeans.
The restaurant itself is very deep and narrow, with a patio on the front sidewalk which looked to seat about two dozen. Inside, a large bar occupied the center of a bare-brick wall and on the other side of the bar stretched the large display kitchen. The contemporary tables were bare with geometric-patterned taupe placemats at each seat. Each table also had a bottle of wine (available for purchase) and, rather inexplicably, a single, fresh lemon. The wait staff was clad in black trousers, long black aprons, and black collared shirts with the sleeves rolled up. The bartender (an incredibly cute, tossel-haired, blond boy worth a special trip just to gaze upon) wore a tight pearl gray t-shirt. It was a good thing we had reservations, cause even at 1:00, the restaurnant was completely packed, inside and out, and when we left at 2:30, the place was still nearly full inside.
Our first big decision was picking a beverage. In Belgium, people take their beer very, very seriously, just like the French with their wines. Their beer list had about four dozen Belgian beers! Not being a big beer person, I had to follow Bob's lead on what to drink. He's lived in Belgium before (State Department posting), so he knew his way around the menus. We opted to go with the beers on tap. The first one we had was a Hoegaarden, which was a very pale, cloudy beer with a light taste that was slightly lemony. By the time our entrees were served, we had our second beer, which was a Leffe Blonde, which had a deeper amber color and more of a distinctly hop taste to it (and which was my preference of the two).
While many things on the menu were intriguing, we had gone there to experience the special three course $20.05 prix fixe menu that had been created just for Restaurant Week. The first course was called "Red and Green." We were given long, white rectangular plates. On one end was a cross-section slice of a roulade of romaine hearts with goat cheese and herbs between the lettuce leaves, with a thin, crisp, savory wafer balanced across the top. On the other end was a ball of diced red tomato and tiny little grey shrimp in a mayonnaise garnished with a piece of sun-dried tomato and an artistic wad of long-stemmed tiny clover. In the center was a scattering of tiny grey shrimp resting on a squiggle of sauce which reminded me a bit of a hoisin sauce. The plate was very pretty and carefully arranged. I particularly liked the tomato and shrimp salad.
For the main course, I was very tempted to have the pot of mussels (mussels are a Belgian specialty), but we both ended up ordering the biefstuk van de beenhouwer, which is grilled hanger steak. Lots of Americans are not completely familiar with this cut of beef, and often confuse it with a flank steak or skirt steak (fajita meat), yet in actuality, the hanger steak is the remnant of the cow's diaphragm where it attaches to the muscle wall just below the last rib. I've always found the cut very good when properly marinated and cooked, but the "grain" and feel of the beef is just a little different from standard steaks and roasts. Belga's steak was just what I was expecting--juicy, flavorful, and nearly fork-tender. A bearnaise sauce made with beer accompanied the steak. Along with the meat, there was an ample serving of roasted vegetables, including peas, carrots, green beans, and leeks on the plate, and a paper cone in a unique spiral holder held the hot Belgian fries (what we call liberty fries or "French fries" actually originated in Belgium). People gush about Belgian fries, but I can't say that I was wowwed by these. They were good, though, and I used my bearnaise as a dipping sauce instead of the Belgian-traditional mayonnaise.
A strawberry, peach, and beer soup with fresh strawberries, blueberries, raspberries and cape gooseberries floating in the soup and highlighted with an egg-shaped scoop of very tart apricot sorbet was our dessert. Cape gooseberries are a little bit unusual, and I've not been served them anywhere else in D.C. For those who've never had them, they look a lot like small yellow cherry tomatoes and they have an interesting taste that is sort of a cross between a tomato and pineapple. This was a fun dessert, and I loved the sorbet and how it made me pucker. Dessert was followed by espresso and coffee with cream.
Our waitress was very helpful, pleasant, and informative. There were also a number of other waiters involved in bringing our food to us at various times. My only big complaint with the service, though, was when our salad plates were removed, the waiter took our salad fork and salad knife off the plate and laid them down on the bare table. You would think that a restaurant of this calibre could manage to bring us clean flatware for each course.
We're certainly looking forward to another visit to Belga Cafe. There are lots and lots of very intriguing items on the menu, including foie de canard (smoked and poached duck liver pate), lobster hamburger, leg of rabbit braised in red ale beer, pan-seared salsify, asparagus fritters with asparagus ice cream, and a Belgian endive tart, not to mention forty-some more beers to try.
Belga Cafe, 514 Eighth Street Southeast, near Eastern Market Metro.
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
Chinatown Express, Washington, D.C.
My Tulsa friend Jeff, who used to be one of my voice students at the college there, popped into D.C. yesterday evening for a whirlwind business trip (I think he leaves this afternoon), and it was so good to see him! He loves Asian food, and since "authentic" pickings are slim in Oklahoma, we prevailed upon Leo to take us to Chinatown, pick a restaurant, and order us some "authentic" Chinese food.
Most of the time, the tourists stay on the main drag around the Chinatown arch, but last night Leo took us way down and then around the corner on Sixth Street to a place I never would have thought to try, mainly because the name—Chinatown Express—sounds so mall food court-y. As we got closer, though, it started to look more and more "authentic." It's very much a hole-in-the-wall kind of place, small, crowded, and noisy, but I'm so glad we went there, and it's going to be on my list of recommended D.C. restaurants.
From the street, we could see all these cooked chickens and ducks hanging, ready either for take-away or for being served inside. They also had roast pork and barbecued ribs hanging, and if you look closely, you'll see in the steam table below pigs' ears (by the red tongs) and on the far right, chicken feet. Not all of the dinner entrees were hanging in the window. There's a huge aquarium right by the front door full of fish, crab, and lobster—they want you to know your seafood is fresh!
Leo and the waitress bantered a bit, though his Cantonese and her Mandarin weren't totally compatible, and they had to negotiate a few points in English, but we ended up with a splendid meal! In keeping with Chinese tradition, food isn't served in courses, but tends to come either all at once, or as the more complicated items get cooked. The first thing they brought (actually, as soon as we sat down) was water and a big pot of hot tea. When the food started coming, we got a huge plate of sliced roast duck, roast pork, barbecued pork, and barbecued squid (it was bright orangish-red; at first, I thought it was strips of red bell pepper) accompanied by a little dish of pungent but addictive pickled sliced garlic and another little dish of a chopped green substance that turned out to be fresh ginger root with chives and a touch of garlic.
No sooner had we started eating when a big plate of "potstickers" (fried dumplings) and a big lettuce leaf-lined bamboo tray of steamed dumplings showed up. The table was getting crowded, but on her next trip, the waitress brought a plate of shredded lettuce salad topped with long thin slices of jellyfish marinated in ginger and rice vinegar with sesame seeds and thinly sliced scallions (the marinated jellyfish was not quite so crunchy as the time I had it before, but this preparation was different and good in its own way), three bowls of steamed white rice, a big plate of lightly sauteed gai lan (Chinese kale, which is sometimes misidentified as Chinese broccoli), and the piece de resistance, an absolutely exquisite shrimp and walnuts in cream sauce. LOL....the waitress had to point to a couple of the nearly-empty dumpling platters and command us to "Eat!" so she could clear more space on the table for the newest food.
Our table was deep inside the restaurant, but from my vantage point, I could see the work station up by the front window, where a chef was preparing many of the rotisserie items, plus hand-making and stretching fresh lo mein noodles. It was fascinating to watch....the dough was stretched and folded and stretched and folded, and eventually he stretched the now-multiple strands as far as his arms could reach, when he some how "popped" the strands, and they fell into dozens of shorter pieces, which were then slipped into the simmering soup broth.
Now, I have to tell you about the shrimp dish. They took a bunch of jumbo shrimp, cleaned and peeled them, then dredged them very lightly in cornstarch before flash-frying them. They were cooked again with big chunks of fresh pineapple in a thick, slightly sweet cream sauce. As it was plated, it was strewn with walnut halves, and the platter was carefully edged with precisely cut pieces of blanched broccoli. The shrimp was perfectly cooked (it's easy to overcook shrimp, especially when the technique requires two cooking cycles), succulent, and ever so delicious!
The three of us absolutely stuffed ourselves, and couldn't quite finish everything. And the best part? The bill for the three of us, including tax and generous tip, was only $60! Not only is that an impressive feat for downtown Washington restaurants, but we ordered some of the most expensive things on the menu, what with the jellyfish and the jumbo shrimp.
We waddled back to the main drag and stopped and looked at the bus stop, looked at one another, then promptly hailed a cab. Getting on a bus would have been too much work!
Chinatown Express, 746 Sixth Street Northwest, near Gallery Place/Chinatown Metro.
Most of the time, the tourists stay on the main drag around the Chinatown arch, but last night Leo took us way down and then around the corner on Sixth Street to a place I never would have thought to try, mainly because the name—Chinatown Express—sounds so mall food court-y. As we got closer, though, it started to look more and more "authentic." It's very much a hole-in-the-wall kind of place, small, crowded, and noisy, but I'm so glad we went there, and it's going to be on my list of recommended D.C. restaurants.
From the street, we could see all these cooked chickens and ducks hanging, ready either for take-away or for being served inside. They also had roast pork and barbecued ribs hanging, and if you look closely, you'll see in the steam table below pigs' ears (by the red tongs) and on the far right, chicken feet. Not all of the dinner entrees were hanging in the window. There's a huge aquarium right by the front door full of fish, crab, and lobster—they want you to know your seafood is fresh!
Leo and the waitress bantered a bit, though his Cantonese and her Mandarin weren't totally compatible, and they had to negotiate a few points in English, but we ended up with a splendid meal! In keeping with Chinese tradition, food isn't served in courses, but tends to come either all at once, or as the more complicated items get cooked. The first thing they brought (actually, as soon as we sat down) was water and a big pot of hot tea. When the food started coming, we got a huge plate of sliced roast duck, roast pork, barbecued pork, and barbecued squid (it was bright orangish-red; at first, I thought it was strips of red bell pepper) accompanied by a little dish of pungent but addictive pickled sliced garlic and another little dish of a chopped green substance that turned out to be fresh ginger root with chives and a touch of garlic.
No sooner had we started eating when a big plate of "potstickers" (fried dumplings) and a big lettuce leaf-lined bamboo tray of steamed dumplings showed up. The table was getting crowded, but on her next trip, the waitress brought a plate of shredded lettuce salad topped with long thin slices of jellyfish marinated in ginger and rice vinegar with sesame seeds and thinly sliced scallions (the marinated jellyfish was not quite so crunchy as the time I had it before, but this preparation was different and good in its own way), three bowls of steamed white rice, a big plate of lightly sauteed gai lan (Chinese kale, which is sometimes misidentified as Chinese broccoli), and the piece de resistance, an absolutely exquisite shrimp and walnuts in cream sauce. LOL....the waitress had to point to a couple of the nearly-empty dumpling platters and command us to "Eat!" so she could clear more space on the table for the newest food.
Our table was deep inside the restaurant, but from my vantage point, I could see the work station up by the front window, where a chef was preparing many of the rotisserie items, plus hand-making and stretching fresh lo mein noodles. It was fascinating to watch....the dough was stretched and folded and stretched and folded, and eventually he stretched the now-multiple strands as far as his arms could reach, when he some how "popped" the strands, and they fell into dozens of shorter pieces, which were then slipped into the simmering soup broth.
Now, I have to tell you about the shrimp dish. They took a bunch of jumbo shrimp, cleaned and peeled them, then dredged them very lightly in cornstarch before flash-frying them. They were cooked again with big chunks of fresh pineapple in a thick, slightly sweet cream sauce. As it was plated, it was strewn with walnut halves, and the platter was carefully edged with precisely cut pieces of blanched broccoli. The shrimp was perfectly cooked (it's easy to overcook shrimp, especially when the technique requires two cooking cycles), succulent, and ever so delicious!
The three of us absolutely stuffed ourselves, and couldn't quite finish everything. And the best part? The bill for the three of us, including tax and generous tip, was only $60! Not only is that an impressive feat for downtown Washington restaurants, but we ordered some of the most expensive things on the menu, what with the jellyfish and the jumbo shrimp.
We waddled back to the main drag and stopped and looked at the bus stop, looked at one another, then promptly hailed a cab. Getting on a bus would have been too much work!
Chinatown Express, 746 Sixth Street Northwest, near Gallery Place/Chinatown Metro.
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
Starbuck's, Washington, D.C.
Those of us who are sufficiently geriatric so as to be in the 35 to 55 year old range will no doubt remember the bright pink bubbles and potent sweet scent (which can't be called anything but "bubble gum") of Bazooka Gum. It came in these little one inch long rectangles that were individually wrapped, and inside around the hunk of gum were these inane but wholesome little comics. When I was a wee small boy, my dad used to drive me all the way across town to the barber shop in this place called Oak Park Village, and after my haircut, we'd hit the penny candy cabinet (inflation had hit--things were up to two to five cents), and one of the things I'd get sometimes would be a piece of Bazooka bubble gum.
Well, what brought up this childhood reminiscence this evening? Well, I just got back from shopping in Tenleytown, where I stopped in at the Starbucks (under coersion, of course) and tried their vogue drink du jour, the green tea frappuccino. Twas an interesting drink. It reminds me very much of a cross between Bazooka bubble gum and melted green tea ice cream.
It actually wasn't bad. Of course, I think I got my refined sugar allotment for the week in that one drink. Has Starbucks ever considered using Splenda or doing a diet version of their drinks? Anyway, on those occasions when I'm forced to go to Starbucks, I at least have two possible drinks to order, the Chantico (chocolate) and the green tea frappuccino.
Well, what brought up this childhood reminiscence this evening? Well, I just got back from shopping in Tenleytown, where I stopped in at the Starbucks (under coersion, of course) and tried their vogue drink du jour, the green tea frappuccino. Twas an interesting drink. It reminds me very much of a cross between Bazooka bubble gum and melted green tea ice cream.
It actually wasn't bad. Of course, I think I got my refined sugar allotment for the week in that one drink. Has Starbucks ever considered using Splenda or doing a diet version of their drinks? Anyway, on those occasions when I'm forced to go to Starbucks, I at least have two possible drinks to order, the Chantico (chocolate) and the green tea frappuccino.
Aroma Indian Restaurant, Washington, D.C.
Last night, Leo called me from his gym, wanted to go out for Indian food after his workout, and asked me to meet him at Aroma Indian Restaurant near 20th and Pennsylvania. This is a restaurant I've wanted to try, since I've seen it recommended in several guidebooks and favorably reviewed in places like the Washingtonian magazine, so I gladly agreed. Aroma is a typically-sized downtown Washington place in a rowhouse arrangment that is narrow and deep and has a large window overlooking the sidewalk. The walls were pleasantly lacking in Indian kitsch. Banquettes line the eastern wall of the dining room and white cloth-covered tables set on the diagonal are arranged in the rest of the space. Several waiters in black trousers, vests, and ties and white shirts scurried busily around the mixed ethnicity clientele.
For our first course, Leo started with two meat samosas stuffed with a slightly sweetly-spiced minced lamb that came on a big bed of iceberg lettuce with tomato and cucumber slices. I had a very nice soup badami, which was a surprisingly simple concoction of peeled and finely ground almonds in a milk and cream soup with a tiny little garnish of fresh coriander leaves in the center. We'd also been brought a basket of peppered papad wafers and a deep greenish herb sauce I didn't really recognize (it wasn't the usual mint sauce most places bring with the lentil crackers). I also had a cup of hot masala tea, which was a lovely light tea that had been lightly and delicately spiced, and came with a pitcher of milk on the side.
For our entrees, we ordered the shrimp tandoori, chicken curry, gobhi paratha (cauliflower-stuffed bread), and paneer kulcha (cheese-stuffed bread). We also had to order our rice a la carte--in this case, the basmati pulao. When the food arrived, we also received an unordered (but not complimentary--they charged us for it!) dish of channa masala (chickpeas and potatoes in a tomato and onion sauce). There was a good quantity of large shrimp, but with the tails still on (one of my constant complaints with restaurant shrimp is leaving the inedible tails on for "garnish"). Leo reported that he thought they were overcooked. The chicken curry was tasty, but I was disappointed that it was very, very mild, especially since the menu advertised "medium" spice and we had asked the waiter to make it very spicy. The channa masala had some kick to it, but it, too, was not terribly hot. The basmati pulao was elaborately spiced, with a tell-tale saffron yellow coloring and multiple whole spices cooked in. Now, basmati rice traditionally is aged, which makes the grains of rice cook up separately rather than being sticky like American or sushi rices, but I thought this basmati pulao to be rather dry. The breads were good, but they were all arranged in one basket, cut into quarters, and I'm not sure what we got—I never found a distinct taste either of cheese or of cauliflower. Since the rounds of bread were smaller than many I've seen at other local places, I wasn't sure if we got one order or two.
While none of our food was bad, I do not find Aroma to be a good buy. Their serving dishes were typically and average "individual"-sized, yet their prices were two or three dollars higher per entree than comparable competitors. And, then, they required a la carte purchase of rice! I was also distressed that our special spice request for the chicken curry was disregarded and that we were charged for an unordered chickpea dish. While I wouldn't object to eating here again, this is definitely not a "destination" establishment for me.
Aroma Indian Restaurant, 1919 Eye Street, near Farragut West Metro.
For our first course, Leo started with two meat samosas stuffed with a slightly sweetly-spiced minced lamb that came on a big bed of iceberg lettuce with tomato and cucumber slices. I had a very nice soup badami, which was a surprisingly simple concoction of peeled and finely ground almonds in a milk and cream soup with a tiny little garnish of fresh coriander leaves in the center. We'd also been brought a basket of peppered papad wafers and a deep greenish herb sauce I didn't really recognize (it wasn't the usual mint sauce most places bring with the lentil crackers). I also had a cup of hot masala tea, which was a lovely light tea that had been lightly and delicately spiced, and came with a pitcher of milk on the side.
For our entrees, we ordered the shrimp tandoori, chicken curry, gobhi paratha (cauliflower-stuffed bread), and paneer kulcha (cheese-stuffed bread). We also had to order our rice a la carte--in this case, the basmati pulao. When the food arrived, we also received an unordered (but not complimentary--they charged us for it!) dish of channa masala (chickpeas and potatoes in a tomato and onion sauce). There was a good quantity of large shrimp, but with the tails still on (one of my constant complaints with restaurant shrimp is leaving the inedible tails on for "garnish"). Leo reported that he thought they were overcooked. The chicken curry was tasty, but I was disappointed that it was very, very mild, especially since the menu advertised "medium" spice and we had asked the waiter to make it very spicy. The channa masala had some kick to it, but it, too, was not terribly hot. The basmati pulao was elaborately spiced, with a tell-tale saffron yellow coloring and multiple whole spices cooked in. Now, basmati rice traditionally is aged, which makes the grains of rice cook up separately rather than being sticky like American or sushi rices, but I thought this basmati pulao to be rather dry. The breads were good, but they were all arranged in one basket, cut into quarters, and I'm not sure what we got—I never found a distinct taste either of cheese or of cauliflower. Since the rounds of bread were smaller than many I've seen at other local places, I wasn't sure if we got one order or two.
While none of our food was bad, I do not find Aroma to be a good buy. Their serving dishes were typically and average "individual"-sized, yet their prices were two or three dollars higher per entree than comparable competitors. And, then, they required a la carte purchase of rice! I was also distressed that our special spice request for the chicken curry was disregarded and that we were charged for an unordered chickpea dish. While I wouldn't object to eating here again, this is definitely not a "destination" establishment for me.
Aroma Indian Restaurant, 1919 Eye Street, near Farragut West Metro.
Sunday, July 31, 2005
The Homogenization of America
Once upon a time, cities and towns had character. Not only that, but they had distinct character, and as one travelled across the country, one could experience wonderful, unique, and interesting differences in culture, cuisine, and clothing from city to city. One could taste the difference between North Carolina barbeque and South Carolina barbeque, between Memphis barbeque and Kansas City barbeque. One could recognize certain cuts and certain fabrics in a suit or the design of a pair of shoes and, regardless of where one was in the world, one knew immediately from whence the wearer came (or at least shopped).
Alas, those days are quickly slipping away, and America is becoming one bland, similar, boring melting pot, with everyone shopping at the same stores and eating at the same restaurants.
This homogenization of American culture took another unfortunate step forward this past week when Federated Department Stores, Inc., the survivor of the merger this spring between Federated and the May Companies, announced that they were converting all the regional department store chains in the former May stable to Federated's major store name, Macy's. Now, I have nothing against Macy's. In fact, I often enjoy shopping at various Macy's stores around the country. But, with every merger, with every change, with every renaming, we lose a slice of America.
Our choices are dwindling. It's getting so that when we travel, we aren't going to have a clue where we are, based on shopping and dining; the malls and the strips look the same. Already, we can go to the same big box stores in every major American city, large or small. Best Buy. Staples. Barnes and Noble. Circuit City. PetsMart. Home Depot. One of the 3,600 some Wal-Mart stores in the U.S. alone. And even when we pay for our purchases, whether we write a check or use a credit card, our banks are consolidating, too. The huge Bank of America and MBNA banking corporations announced earlier this year that they were merging, too. Then when we quench our thirsts, we have our choice of the same mediocre coffee at Starbucks on every street corner (they are planning to open another 1,800 coffee shops in 2006) or the same arteriosclerosing Happy Meals at one of the 31,561 McDonald's stores in the country. And what city doesn't have an Olive Garden or a Chili's or a Red Lobster or a Bennigan's? Did you travel to another town to shop? Will you be staying at a hotel in the HIlton group or the Marriott group?
Not everyone is unhappy about our homogenization. Every mall wants a Gap and an Abercrombie and Fitch. Krispy Kreme has to have traffic control for a week when they open a new store in a new city. Anywhere in the country, I can guess a guy's age based on whether he's dressed in Nautica, Hilfiger, or Hollister. We watch television and movies to see what people are wearing, and then we want it for ourselves. We watch music videos to see what the hip-hoppers are wearing so we know that we want North Face winter gear so badly our kids will murder one another for it. T.G.I.Friday's and Denny's always seem to be packed with diners, no matter how bad the food or rude the service. So, obviously, there's something about national franchises that the American public seems to accept, if not crave. We all want to dress alike and shop at the same stores and eat at the same restaurants, whether we are in Atlanta or Seattle, Bloomington, Indiana, or El Paso, Texas.
It makes me sad, though, because when I go home to Tulsa, I don't want Florida stone crabs claws or Louisiana crawfish etouffee or Maryland blue crab cakes, cause they just aren't the same in a town that cooks beef 90% of the time. In D.C., the Amerindian food all has that institutionalized blandness, I don't even want to talk about what passes for Mexican food, and the chicken fried steaks would even shame my high school cafeteria. Yet, we continue our march towards mediocrity, towards our least common denominator; we accept and welcome our increasing homogenization.
Homogenization is for milk, not for stores and restaurants. I just pray that I am not the lone voice in the American consumer wilderness who values what we are losing.
Alas, those days are quickly slipping away, and America is becoming one bland, similar, boring melting pot, with everyone shopping at the same stores and eating at the same restaurants.
This homogenization of American culture took another unfortunate step forward this past week when Federated Department Stores, Inc., the survivor of the merger this spring between Federated and the May Companies, announced that they were converting all the regional department store chains in the former May stable to Federated's major store name, Macy's. Now, I have nothing against Macy's. In fact, I often enjoy shopping at various Macy's stores around the country. But, with every merger, with every change, with every renaming, we lose a slice of America.
Our choices are dwindling. It's getting so that when we travel, we aren't going to have a clue where we are, based on shopping and dining; the malls and the strips look the same. Already, we can go to the same big box stores in every major American city, large or small. Best Buy. Staples. Barnes and Noble. Circuit City. PetsMart. Home Depot. One of the 3,600 some Wal-Mart stores in the U.S. alone. And even when we pay for our purchases, whether we write a check or use a credit card, our banks are consolidating, too. The huge Bank of America and MBNA banking corporations announced earlier this year that they were merging, too. Then when we quench our thirsts, we have our choice of the same mediocre coffee at Starbucks on every street corner (they are planning to open another 1,800 coffee shops in 2006) or the same arteriosclerosing Happy Meals at one of the 31,561 McDonald's stores in the country. And what city doesn't have an Olive Garden or a Chili's or a Red Lobster or a Bennigan's? Did you travel to another town to shop? Will you be staying at a hotel in the HIlton group or the Marriott group?
Not everyone is unhappy about our homogenization. Every mall wants a Gap and an Abercrombie and Fitch. Krispy Kreme has to have traffic control for a week when they open a new store in a new city. Anywhere in the country, I can guess a guy's age based on whether he's dressed in Nautica, Hilfiger, or Hollister. We watch television and movies to see what people are wearing, and then we want it for ourselves. We watch music videos to see what the hip-hoppers are wearing so we know that we want North Face winter gear so badly our kids will murder one another for it. T.G.I.Friday's and Denny's always seem to be packed with diners, no matter how bad the food or rude the service. So, obviously, there's something about national franchises that the American public seems to accept, if not crave. We all want to dress alike and shop at the same stores and eat at the same restaurants, whether we are in Atlanta or Seattle, Bloomington, Indiana, or El Paso, Texas.
It makes me sad, though, because when I go home to Tulsa, I don't want Florida stone crabs claws or Louisiana crawfish etouffee or Maryland blue crab cakes, cause they just aren't the same in a town that cooks beef 90% of the time. In D.C., the Amerindian food all has that institutionalized blandness, I don't even want to talk about what passes for Mexican food, and the chicken fried steaks would even shame my high school cafeteria. Yet, we continue our march towards mediocrity, towards our least common denominator; we accept and welcome our increasing homogenization.
Homogenization is for milk, not for stores and restaurants. I just pray that I am not the lone voice in the American consumer wilderness who values what we are losing.
Malaysia Kopitiam, Washington, D.C.
I'm craving food right now. What I want is a salad we had the other day at Malaysia Kopitiam they called a "crispy squid salad with lemon grass dressing," which really wasn't "squid" at all. It was a big mound of long, thin shreds of green apple and green mango with shallots and mint leaves which had been tossed in a mouth-watering hot-spicy sweet and sour vinaigrette scented with lemon grass. Some very crispy small pieces of deep-fried squid were sprinkled on the top, but it was really more of a garnish than a main theme for a salad. The dish really didn't have much of a seafood taste to it at all. Anyway, it's that zesty apple-mango stuff I'm craving now.
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