Eating Across America

America is clearly what's temporally on my mind, surprising since I haven't had Oklahoma barbecue (and a side of fried okra) in a while (a combination of food that invigorates my faith in both humanity and dining in general). As such, I'd like to explain what I've been up instead of completing my top 100 goals. I'll spare the apologies and excuses and just say it's been a lovely non-top-100 year food-wise. There have been pounds of meat (roasted in my own oven), Tex Mex in other time zones, marriage celebrations where love of food was celebrated alongside love of spouse (in robustly tandem amounts), and lots of pictures to commemorate it all.

Most recently, my friend Allison--my high school debate partner, counterpart in Harry Connick Jr. adulation, and savory pie chef--wed in Chicago, which she also (almost entirely) catered. A woman of many talents, she had (of course) a number of delicious hand pies, in addition to exquisitely-crusted sweet pies. And colorful pickled things. I danced, I had fancy regional French specialities the next day (kouign amman at Floriole Cafe, tres bien), and had Boulevard from a hand-imported-from-Kansas-City keg.



















I also visited my brother in Georgia and tasted the culinary genius of "Cletus," the catch-all name for Georgian locals (best to stop there). There's really little better than Waffle House on a Saturday in northwest Georgia, where I just couldn't help responding in kind to our waitress' thick Southern accent, as sugary as that sticky syrup holder next to the Tabasco.



















The biggest feat of 2012 was my Easter dinner, replete with a five-pound lamb leg and pastitsio, quite possibly the most non-Greek Greek favorite. Pastitsio--a sort of Greek lasagna--requires taking one day off of work, browning meet interminably long, stirring a bechamel sauce for about 45 minutes...straight..and being comforted by female relatives (who have made pastitsio) as many times as they will pick up the phone and answer your harried queries.













I was even lucky enough to have a Yiayia who happened to have baked Greek koulourakia a few days before my party and a mother who didn't mind Fedex'ing them about seven states over.


I headed to fancy Gramercy Tavern in Manhattan sometime in March and enjoyed the simple pleasures of wine and petits fours on a Thursday afternoon. (Admittedly, not a bad gig.) I had some food for lunch but the treat was the carrot cake with butter pecan ice cream--with candied carrots--and the quarter-sized macaron. And the subtle ambiance of dining at your perfect idea of where ladies-who-lunch actually lunch.

The next day, my friend Sonia--now a recent graduate of the French Culinary Institute--and I wandered more around Manhattan. She took me to Baked By Melissa, a delicious mini-cupcake almost-stall that sells delicious cake/icing combinations like peanut butter and jelly, red velvet, and mint chocolate chip. In profile, they look like this, copyright almost certainly infringed:



I clearly enjoyed them as well. And the lamb Sonia braised, while in the kitchen at the restaurant at the French Culinary Institute, the night before.



















I was finally able to visit Philadelphia and instead of starting with a cheese steak, had a Croque Madame at the Ritz, which was surprisingly artsily photogenic (the sandwich and the hotel). Then I happily gave in and went to a cheese steak place.



















Then I watched its beautiful construction and ate every last bit.













Earlier in my eating-across-America tour, I had gone to Kansas City, visiting my old haunts (food and otherwise) with my parents to celebrate Allison's bachelorette party (like her wedding, her bachelorette party was deliberately built around food, to my satisfaction).

There was Tex Mex and a beer tour, with requisite tasting.













There was a robust appreciation for the variety of barbecue sauce at a local grocery store and envy for Boulevard's prolific beer choices and great labels a few aisles over.













And of course, farm-choked-chickens at Stroud's and BBQ-sauce-drenched chopped beef at Gate's.













I had mole enchiladas in Austin, necessitating a cowboy-size appetite.



















There was Southern food and spiked coffee (the "Irish Hangover Cure") with Sue (my favorite UGA/Oklahoma fan) at Kitchen 2404, with all manner of fried eggs, grits, and shrimp.



















And then, there was the birth of Stephanie's baby--the first of many girlfriends' lovely children--sweeter than any many-dollar Jose Andres dessert concoction.