Yeah I Like Coney Islands

After five months of healthy eating, I was wondering whether I had lost my taste for fast food. Without regular fixes of Taco Bell chalupas, White Castle sliders, and Subway meatball sandwiches, I found myself 20 pounds lighter and my "bad" cholesterol at a respectable number. Can't say I've been craving those foods either.

But, in the last couple of weeks, unique fast food opportunities came my way, and I felt compelled to indulge. First one came in Iowa. During several road trips this year traveling back of forth to Des Moines with my college daughter Amelia I saw an oversized, illuminated sign advertising a fast food restaurant from my youth. Right off of I-80, mid way between Iowa City and Des Moines, a Maid-Rite hamburger shop beckoned me.

I ate Maid-Rites a lot during my teenage years in Muscatine, Iowa. In case you've never tasted a Maid-Rite hamburger, this franchise specializes in loose meat sandwiches. Rather than grilling or frying hamburger patties, at Maid-Rite hamburger meat is sauteed in an open pan along with chopped onions and a secret combination of salt, pepper and spices. This meat is served up on a bun along with dill pickle slices.

Maid-Rite style sandwiches briefly achieved national attention when Rosanne Barr opened a restaurant on her television show where they served, you guessed it, loose-meat hamburgers. Rosanne discovered Maid-Rites when she and her former husband Tom Arnold lived in Ottumwa, Iowa. I'm not sure if she loved the sandwich or thought the idea of loose meat hamburgers was so ridiculous that it became a running gag on her comedy show.

Joke or not, every time I passed the restaurant I wanted to eat a Maid-Rite. And I always said to my fellow passengers, "Let's stop and get one. They're great!"

So last week, driving back from Des Moines, my wife agreed to stop at the restaurant under the giant Maid-Rite sign. She was probably sick of hearing me talk about these sandwiches. While I couldn't persuade her to try one, I was almost giddy with aniticpation.

The restaurant was clean and modern--not the dingy, greasy smelling hole in the wall I remember--which was a good sign. And the menu had expanded. Not just the traditional Maid-Rite, the restaurant offered new fare, like a Cheese Rite (which was slathered in Cheese Whiz); a Bacon Cheese Rite (add hard bacon bits); and even a Texas BBQ-Rite (bring on the barbeque sauce!). I elected a "Classic" Maid-Rite, which was the sandwich I remembered. And, and the sandwich delivered to my table featured and big bun and a heaping mound of loose, cooked hamburger meat. I took a bite, and . . . the Maid-Rite prompted no memories. In fact, the sandwich was kind of bland actually. Ketchup and hot sauce helped a little. Not sure what I found so delicious in a Maid-Rite when I was a teen. Not special at all. Guess I won't be stopping next time, not even if I need a Cheese Whiz fix! Such disappointment.

On Friday last week, my hankering for fast food hit me again when I found myself in Philadelphia. After Maid-Rites turned out to be less tastey than I remembered, maybe my tastebuds would find redemption in a new fast food. For years I heard of the much bragged about Philly Cheesesteak but had never tasted one. An opportunity to try the sandwich presented itself in the Philadelphia airport where I had time during a layover to try one for myself.

The sandwich was not what I expected. I imagined the cheese was going to be yellow--either sharp cheddar, American, or Velveta. And the steak--well I expected seasoned chunks of beef that looked liked pieces of a sirloin steak piled on a hoagy bun. Guess what? That is NOT a Philly Cheesesteak. The Philly Cheesesteak I ate in the Philadelphia airport, and I got a "loaded" version that included grilled peppers, mushrooms and onions, was bland, kind of like the Maid-Rite sandwich I had four days earlier.

The meat in a Philly Cheesesteak looked like the flat pieces you get in a gyro, only this meat was not seasoned like a gyro, in fact I couldn't taste any seasoning at all! And the cheese was not yellow cheese, but white. But not good white cheese like gouda, mozzarella or swiss, this sandwich featured soft Philadephia Cream Cheese. Does that sound good to you? Philly Cream Cheese and hot beef together? In a sandwich? I like Philly Cream Cheese in celery sticks and on top of bagels, with capers and red onions, but as a complement to tasteless gyro meat . . . yuck.

To get over the disappointment of my Maid-Rite hamburger and first-ever Philly Cheesesteak, I knew I some needed truly delicious fast food. I wanted to remember that high-fat, high-sodium, inexpensive menu items could actually satisfy. So, last night Isaac and I hauled ourselves to our local National Coney Island and ordered some truly good fast food: a "classic" Coney Island sandwich. For those of you not from my neck of the woods, a Coney Island is a hotdog served with mustard (never ketchup), chopped onions and chili (no beans) on a steamed bun. As if that wasn't enough all by itself, we also ordered chili cheese fries (bring on more chili and copious amounts of Cheese Whiz) and a spicy hani (seasoned chunks of chicken, chopped sauteed veggies inside a pita).

Look at the attached photo. Doesn't that look good? Doesn't Isaac look happy with our meal? And yes, we're drinking Diet Cokes. Very satisfying. I'm going back to health food knowing that there are still artery clogging choices I can enjoy any time I feel like falling off the low fat, low carb, low sodium band waggon.

Now that's fast food, Detroit style!

Beer Snob Diary

Thursday evening found me in a world of hurt and I desperately needed a liquid getaway. Before I sound like a roaring alky, let me explain what happened that evening and maybe you won't think poorly of me.

This Thursday my wife and I drove from our home to our daughter's college so that we could be with her after she finished her freshman year and to send her off on a once-in-a-lifetime trip to South Africa that begins this next week. It's a long drive from Grosse Pointe to Des Moines--at least 600 miles--and I drove every mile. Further, my wife and I found ourselves engaged in deep and meaningful conversation virtually the entire trip. Needless to say, after nine hours of driving and non-stop talking, I needed a drink.

At midnight, however, my options for finding alcoholic beverages were limited. I wasn't going to a bar and the grocery stores that sold my preferred beers and wines had all since closed. Instead, I visited a popular convenience store next to campus that provides libations to many Drake students. So, at midnight, I walked into the Kum and Go, yes, that's the name of the store, Kum and Go, to find a beer.

The place was packed with young, scruffy looking folks, most of whom were standing in front of the beer case. I quickly scanned my choices: Bud, Bud Light, Coors, Coors Light, Miller, Miller Lite, and . . . well I kept looking for other choices. Sam Adams? Nope. Leinenkugel Red--we were in the Midwest after all. Nope. They had to have Rolling Rock--wasn't that a popular college beer? Apparently not at Drake. In fact, in that beer case I couldn't find a single beer I'd consumed in the past 25 years! Out of desperation, I grabbed the one beer I'd never heard of--it was 18 ounces and only cost $1--how bad could it be? So I grabbed two Steel Reserves and tried to leave the Kum and Go as quickly as possible.

Unfortunately, I had forgotten how difficult it is to escape a convenience store at midnight, especially when there was only one barely functional cashier working (who did not speak English as his first language). Do you remember how college students buy drinks? I had forgotten. Especially during finals week, one friend collects money from all his/her friends and runs over to the Kum and Go and buys one beverage apiece for every friend in the dorm who gave them money. Apparently nobody at college treats their friends--they pay for each beverage individually. Needless to say, I stood in that line a long time.

And not everyone in the Kum and Go was a college student. The guy in front of me, besides buying his Mountain Dew, also bought a hot dog out of the hot dog warmer. I can't imagine that a college student, even a hungry one, would ever eat a nasty hot dog that had been sitting all day in that hot dog warmer spinning in front of a greasy light bulb. Gross. I couldn't get out of there fast enough.

Little did I know that Steel Reserve is actually a popular brew among college students. It's a malt beverage with a higher alcohol content than normal beer--and is most typically purchased in 40 ounce bottles. Now that would have been a hoot--me walking out of the Kum and Go in Des Moines with a 40-ounce Steel Reserve in a brown paper bag! My wife is convinced I'm trying to relive my youth--maybe I've just proved her point because I actually enjoyed the Steel Reserve. I don't know if out of exhaustion, thirst, or my intense need to unwind, but the drink went down fast--and I fell fast asleep about five minutes after it was gone.

Yep, I enjoyed my first experience with a Steel Reserve, however, not as much as I enjoyed another brew I tasted last night for the first time. We had dinner at the Court Avenue Brewing Company, which is a popular Des Moines restaurant that is similar to hundreds of other microbreweries in the U.S. The owners took a turn-of-the century retail building and converted it into a hip restaurant. Think high ceilings, hardwood floors, outdoor seating, antique signs on the walls, a massive bar and lots of noise. But, unlike other similar establishments, the Court Avenue Brewing Company had an interesting menu and the brews they produced actually tasted good.

Again, I was in the mood to drink. The primary reason for my alcohol thirst was that I was meeting my freshman daughter's boyfriend for the first time. The bartender offered a large selection of beers on tap, but I felt compelled to drink the "Honest Lawyer IPA" draft. I didn't know what an IPA was, but I ordered it anyway. It was good.

IPA stands for India Pale Ale, which is a class of light-colored beers that are especially appropriate for summer drinking. The one made by the Court Avenue Brewing Company had a hint of citrus and went down quickly and easily. Drinking the IPA helped put me in the right mood to meet Byron.

Actually the boyfriend was delightful--confident, handsome, with an easy smile and clear appreciation for my daughter. He was respectful toward my wife and answered all our questions (and we had a lot of questions) without a hint of discomfort or resentment. While both Byron and Amelia are far too young to think longterm, it appears they are well suited for each other at this time in their lives.

We're now engaged in helping Amelia pack for her trip. Fortunately, we're staying in a suite with a small refrigerator that I've stocked with enough Stella Artois to keep me in the right frame of mind through her Tuesday send off.

I'll talk to you again when I get home.

Twenty Things

This will be my twentieth blog posting. While I anticipated writing more often when I started in January, it's still a lot of words. Thank you for those who have slogged through all those words with me.

The number twenty came up again last week when Clarisa and I celebrated our twentieth wedding anniversary. You know, twenty is a big number. And the idea that we've been together this many years is amazing. Despite a lot of challenges, we've done pretty well together--and I expect we've got at least another twenty years more in the gas tank. So, stay tuned.

To honor twenty years of marriage, I want to share with you twenty things I love about my wife Clarisa. I can think of a lot more nice things to say about her, so this list is not exhaustive. Also, I'm not trying overly hard to be romantic nor am I saying that these twenty things are the twenty best things about my wife. All I'm saying is that I gave myself twenty minutes to come up with a list, and here it is:

1. I love her name. Clarisa Caridad. Really poetic, don't you think? She's the first person I ever met named Clarisa. The second is her aunt (and namesake) in Panama. Caridad is Spanish for "Charity". Oh, and if you're going to say her name, say it correctly. Emphasize the middle vowel--it's Clar E sa, not Clar isssa. That's how it's said in Spanish, and I really think it sounds prettier that way.

2. I love her heritage. I've long said that we really stirred up the gene pool when we made children together. I mean what a mix! She's got African blood by way of Jamaica. She's got east Indian blood (you should see the photos of her turbaned great grandfather) by way of Bombay. She's got white Spaniards and native Panamanians all mixed in there for good measure. Talk about diversity, she's a whole United Nations all in one person.

3. I love that she's bilingual. I don't know too many people who are completely fluent in multiple languages. The remarkable thing about Clarisa is that she speaks English like an American (no hint of an accent), and she speaks Spanish like a Panamanian. And to boot, she's not too bad at French and Portuguese! I'm in awe of her language abilities--it makes her accessible to so many people.

4. I love her complexion. How to describe it? Deep tan? Honey brown? Rich copper? Anyway you look at it, she has amazing skin and really doesn't need make up.

5. I love her legs. This is the last physical attribute I'm going to mention. Trust me, there's a lot more to say about her body, but I'm going to share that with her privately. About those legs--she's 50+ years old and not one spot of cellulite. It's true! Her legs are long and shapely and lovely in short skirts.

6. I love that she's passionate about every detail in her life. I don't care if Clarisa's washing clothes, entertaining guests, or settling some world crisis, everything she does feels important. She sweats every detail and never relaxes her standards. Never.

7. I love that Clarisa loves children. And they love her, too. What's unusual about my wife is that she never condescends to a child. She speaks to them directly, often in the same tone and using the same language that she uses with adults. She also remembers important details about their lives, and asks questions about these details. That's why she's so successful as a room mother, a Sunday school teacher, and a class sponsor. Hundreds of children know her by name and are not ashamed to greet her when they meet her in the street.

8. I love how she makes bacalao. I could have just as easily said chicken and rice, sugar cookies or skirt steak, but bacalao was the first home cooked meal she made for me and I've loved it ever since. For those who don't know bacalao, it's kind of a stew made with salted cod fish. I know, it sounds gross, but it's really good when made with love . . . and lots of coconut milk!

9. I love how Clarisa resists routines. When life seems mundane, Clarisa makes changes. Even when running errands, she doesn't drive the same paths over and over. In our house, the furniture gets rearranged regularly. Dinner is never at the same hour from day to day, and you're never quite sure whether that standing appointment is going to stand from week to week. The only things predictable in our lives are surprises.

10. As much as Clarisa resists routines, I love her diehard embrace of meaningful traditions. From year-to-year Clarisa is the one who insists that we continue traditions. For example, every year, at her insistance, we sit down together and share daily family devotions during Lent; we light candles and say prayers during Advent; birthdays are celebrated with homemade cakes; and newlyweds always receive creches for their first Christmas. Maintaining these traditions requires time, attention and money. Still, Clarisa proudly soldiers on, carrying the torch for traditions, despite lack of cooperation from the rest of us.

11. I love that Clarisa expects the best. She never settles for lesser models or slapdash efforts. She expects jobs to be completed correctly, that the goods she purchases are top quality, and that individuals give their best efforts in whatever they do.

12. I love her firm faith. Since I have the seminary degree, people assume I'm the religious one, but the person with real faith in my family is my wife. Her vibrant prayer life, devotion to Scripture, and very public faith witness are authentic expressions of her faith. While I seem stuck in shadows of doubt, Clarisa's faith propels her fearlessly forward. Her trust in God's goodness is truly awe inspiring.

13. I love Clarisa's compassion. Again, this may come as a surprise, but she's the softy, I'm the hardhead when it comes to people's needs. She wants to help the widows, the orphans, the people in distress, and she motivates me to feel likewise.

14. I love that Clarisa is the least intimidated person I know. Powers and princes mean nothing to her--she will speak her mind fearlessly, no matter the situation. I've become a braver, stronger person since I've known her.

15. I love that Clarisa loves baseball. It's my favorite sport and it would have been a shame not to share this interest. I know her love of baseball didn't start with me because her love for the game is genuine, longstanding, and passionate. We'll never forget that walkoff homerun we saw in 2007 in Detroit that that clinched the ALCS.

16. I love that Clarisa loves our life together. Many people I know wish their lives were different or pine for people and places far away from their homes. Not Clarisa. She's right where she wants to be in her world, and the fact she's content gives the rest of us great peace.

17. I love that Clarisa is devoted to her offspring. Though they may say she treats them differently, I see clearly her love and commitment to all four of our children. She defends them with every ounce of her being and never stops thinking of ways to help them.

18. I love that she has insisted that her family embrace me. It has always been Clarisa's belief that I was part of her family--and since the day we were married, she has insisted that her family treat me as one of their own and not as an alien outsider.

19. I love that Clarisa tries hard to please others, even when it hurts. For my 45th birtday, I was excited about a romantic long weekend in Quebec I had planned for the two of us. Though she was sick as a dog, Clarisa without a complaint dragged herself through museums and stores and sat through endless meals and even pulled off the sexy, negligee-wearing temptress at night, just to please me. I would have taken two Tylenol and gone to bed, but not Clarisa. And it's not just for me, Clarisa works hard to please every family member and friend in her life and I love that about her.

Finally, #20, I love that Clarisa loves me. During good times and even when we don't get along, I've never doubted her love, not once in twenty years. That's saying a lot.