Food & Drink

Take a Little Trip

"A restaurant-as-icon is at 509 North Farish St. The Big Apple Inn, 354-9371, has been at that location over 60 years—just north of the Collins Funeral Home and across the street from Central United Methodist Church.

My Two Chefs

What I know about grilling you could put on a table-top hibachi. My two sons, Lamont, 28, and Leland, 25, are way, way out of my league.

A Chicken Sandwich in Two Days (or Less)

Approach your summer vacation with caution. Your list of things to do could keep you busy and on the move, but it's Saturday afternoon, the sun is shining, and the hammock beckons. In the kitchen sink, a hormone-free, free-range chicken has thawed overnight. It's a good country chicken, its neck still intact, a few wet feathers still clinging to its pale flesh. An extra wing is stuffed in the cavity—great luck since you've just discovered from one of your favorite cookbook authors that a substance secreted from the wing joint adds a gelatinous quality to the broth.

Love and Leftovers

My friends-the-caterers tell me that cooking for someone is the second most intimate human act. And, they tell me, you can tell a lot about someone by examining the contents of their refrigerator. If that's so, then I must be the reincarnation of my great aunt, Ida, a woman who couldn't bear to part with even the last tiny bite of leftovers—and this, before the age of microwaves and easy reheating. When we sat down for Sunday dinner at Aunt Ida's table, she hovered over us, shoveling bits of food from foil packs and plastic-covered bowls onto our plates.

Stop the War

Friends, there is a war—indeed a food fight of major proportions—taking place at our collective American table. The proponents of protein hurl vicious insults at our friends, the carbohydrates, while the forces of fat sit by, saturated and satisfied. This war pits friend against friend, mother against daughter, and Shipley's doughnuts against everyone. I come to you today as a diplomat for diet, a statesman for sustenance. This war must stop.

One Fine Fruit

It goes without saying that the banana, fleeting as it may be in its perfection, is one fine fruit. For Americans, it's raw fruit numero uno as well as our favorite smell, according to a recent survey. Produce expert Tony Tantillo, syndicated as the "Fresh Grocer" in major TV markets across the country, says that the average American eats 29 pounds of bananas each year. If the average banana were to weigh, say 4 ounces, that's 116 bananas, or two bananas plus a bite every week, give or take.

Godfrey, Take Me Away

Godfrey Morgan, the Jamaican native whose food delights JFP staffers more than any other, is fulfilling one of his (and our) dreams: He now has a restaurant downtown. On May 12 Godfrey's Take Away, A Taste of the Caribbean opened in the Merrill Lynch building, 111 E. Capitol Street, across from the parking garage. Godfrey's Take Away serves breakfast and lunch between 7:30 a.m. and 3:30 p.m. You can walk in, call in (949-3011), or fax in (949-6990) your orders. Two four-tops and 11 stools along the window-counter offer seating for those who want to walk in and sit a spell.

News from the Restaurant Scene

Keegan's, 7049 Old Canton Road, behind Brookshires on Lake Harbor, (898-4554) began serving their lunch buffet about four weeks ago, between 11 a.m. and 2 p.m. There's soup, salad, meats, vegetables and breads. All-you-can-eat lunch buffet is $7.95, while soup and salad is $5.95. Drinks are extra.

the Existential Tomato

May 6, 2004 In the spring, even the most urbanized Southerners exhibit an itch to plant tomatoes. Many Southern gardeners take stock of their formal perennial beds and despair of finding a sunny spot for a tomato plant. Some acknowledge their passion for this vegetable by planting cherry tomatoes in hanging baskets or dwarf varieties in containers, but other braver souls violate the horticultural code that consigns vegetables to the back of the house, and have been known to plant a bed of Big Boys in a sunny spot out front next to the SUV.

Whither the Noble Avocado

There was a time, younger food aficionados, when one expected to see the "half avocado with oil and vinegar on a bed of iceberg lettuce" or the "avocado and grapefruit salad with poppyseed dressing" on the menu of any restaurant sporting a decent wine list. Alas, fruit and veggie lovers, this is no longer true. Once a fine dining experience, the avocado has become a cult food, eaten by vegans, fans of the faded California cuisine and those who frequent Mexican restaurants where it is served in its adulterated form—"guacamole."

South by Northeast

On the one hand, you've got your Mexican food, and on the other hand, you've got your Asian food. Difficult decision? Not when someone else prepares it, serves it and cleans up afterwards. Be sure to tip generously is all I can thankfully say.

Take That, Mad Cow

Somehow being a vegetarian also makes me a Father Confessor—people constantly tell me their diet-altering plans, even in polite conversation. Well, what with the New Year and Mad Cow, the din of discussion from those deciding to carve a little bovine muscle out of their diets is growing slightly louder. In response I say, "Hooray!" and offer some street-level suggestions to anyone trying to cut meat from their diets.

Politically Incorrect Dining

With all the advice given to the new Legislature about education, tort reform and the economy, I have not read or heard one person address the most important decision made by anyone on a per diem—where to eat. Initially I was shocked by this oversight. On reflection, however, I understand it. The waters of political correctness are treacherous. Recent examples include Trent Lott and Hillary Clinton, proving most politicians only open their mouths to change feet.

The Cakemaster

"Hey Babycakes!" she shouts, eyes wide open, as I enter. "Come in!" Nestled between the JPD traffic division and Swann's gun repair on Old Canton Road, is a tiny green shop called Obbie's Cakes and Chocolates. Inside, a tall fair-skinned lady, Marsha Rose Davis, has just pulled her chestnut hair into a ponytail and started hand-sculpting a pound of white chocolate into a fruit topiary.

Signs of Life

Elixir at LeFleur's Gallery, I-55, 981-7896, has opened its very sophisticated doors, offering delightfully potent potables, as well as a small menu of tapas. The JFP editor and publisher stopped in opening night—she sipped a mojito, he a dirty James Bond—and report that the tempura snowpeas, and both the cheese and chocolate fondue are divine. They do hope a couple more veggie tapas are added to the menu. A highly recommended spot. Dress cute and nibble until late.

Ellington