Tasty Cherce: Homemade Pop Tarts.

Yes, please.

Picture and recipe from the Smitten Kitchen (via Saveur).

And then there’s this guy…

In case you haven’t heard, salt is bad. Harumph. Still, Heinz is changing their ketchup recipe to include less salt. 

Will that mean less flavor? We’ll find out this summer.

[Photo Credit: Bright Lights Dim Beauty of Chicago]

It’s a soup is good food day.

[Photo Credit: Lisa’s Kitchen]

“When you unwrap a Reggie bar, it tells you how good it is.” – Catfish Hunter

This comes from Bags:

I grew up in Detroit. Used to go to old Tiger Stadium with my Dad. He once finagled seats right behind home plate for a game with the Yankees. The thing I remember most vividly was Dave Winfield. The man was huge. Just huge. Wait. Not huge. More like a giant. And he had this regal air about him. We were both speechless. I actually think that was the seed of my Yankee fandom, right there. I wasn’t as amazed by Dave Winfield as I was by the idea of New York City.

Tiger Stadium was near the epicenter of one of the great quirks of Detroit. There is a food phenomenon in Detroit known as the Coney Island Hot Dog. (It has nothing whatsoever to do with the place near Brighton Beach.) It is a natural casing dog that is fried on a flat griddle. Ever so slightly spicy. Then it goes on a soft bun. And is topped with a meat chili. And a lot of finely diced onions. And old school yellow mustard.

There are Coney Island restaurants all over Detroit. Coney Island is a food genre. Sort of like Famous Rays here. Anyone can open a Coney Island. But the ones in Detroit are “sub-branded” as they say in advertising. So there is a Layette Coney Island, and an American Coney Island, and a National Coney Island, and all kinds of other Coney Islands, scattered all over the city and the suburbs.

But here is the part I love. The two original Coney Islands are in downtown Detroit, on Lafayette Street. A short walk from old Tiger Stadium. And they are dead next door to each other. The food at one is indistinguishable from the other. But they compete. American versus Lafayette. Lafayette versus American.

They’ve been at it for 40 years. I vaguely recall going there as a very little kid with my Dad and having to walk past the gauntlet of guys out front representing the two places trying to get you to go into theirs and not the other one. Just a classic bit of Detroit weirdness that goes back to when Detroit was this vibrant place full of life and comfortable people and great (now vanished) places like the Lindell AC and the London Chop House.

Anyway. Long way around the bend, here is the story to go with the photo:

I found myself about two hours from Detroit a year or so ago. Had a noon flight back to NY. It was a Sunday. I got up at 5:00 am and drove to downtown Detroit and had myself 4 Coney Dogs with everything. For breakfast. At 6:52 am. Just me and the counter guy and the cook and some belligerent drunk. Beautiful.

Then I drove to the airport and had one more at the Coney franchise in the new terminal there.

For dessert, as Kris Kristoferson would say.

It’s cool, gray and rainy in the Bronx this morning.

Reminds me of Belgium.

[photo credit: thepetitfour and Last Night’s Dinner]

Sripraphai could be my favorite restaurant in New York these days (they’ve just opened a second location). I’ve been about a dozen times over the past three or four years and still have yet to try so much on their extensive menu.

If you like Thai food, what are you waiting for already?

[Photo Credit: Kelly Bone and ext212]

Tasty new spot on the Upper West Side. Corner of 81 and Amsterdam Ave. Twenty-five years ago there was an ice cream shop called American Pie in the same space. Used to serve pies from Umanoff and Parson–the strawberry rhubarb was slammin. The place didn’t last long but my brother, sister and I spent many hours there with our old man, who worked down the block in a hardware store.

The neighbhorhood is much different now, but the Tangeled Vine is worth the trip, especially the Pork Montaditos (Berkshire pork belly sliders, pickled radish,garlic dijonaise) and the Grilled Hanger Steak (duck fat smashed potatoes, watercress, red wine escargot butter).

I also loved the Charcuterie but I’m a sucker for that stuff on any day.

Diane hipped me to this piece in the Chicago Sun-Times on the current state of food photography. It’s a good ‘un.

[Photo Credit: Last Night’s Dinner]

Yes, please.

Okay, I know it’s early for blueberries but this just looks so damned tasty I couldn’t resist:

The best pizza jernts in the country according to gayot.com (via MSN).

Not an onion and not exactly garlic, it’s the spring thing: Ramps! 

From chef Yoshi Yamada at Gourmet.com:

I have not put ramps in my pipe, but I have smoked them—and also roasted, sautéed, blanched, pickled, braised, and puréed them. I have eaten them raw and dirty, and I have cleaned so many in a row that I almost wished for winter again. This year I may take a few home to put under my pillow, just because…my precious. I’ll buy a little grill and set it up on my fire escape, coating the ramps in olive oil, salt, and pepper and grilling them until the white flesh is soft and smoky but still toothsome, the leaves limp and folded in on themselves, tender, wet, and charred at the edges. Then I will eat them—right from the grill, with a little fresh bread if I can wait, but probably just by the handful, with nothing else.

At Babbo, one way we prepare ramps is by heating a sauté pan until the olive oil is just beginning to smoke. We pull the pan off the flame and toss in the ramps, shorn of their leaves. We hear the sizzle, see the spattering oil, and toss them once or twice, calming the pan before placing it back on the flame. We sear them until the whites are blistered, brown, and soft. We add garlic to the pan to amplify that flavor, toasting it to make it taste nutty. After 6 minutes and 30 seconds in boiling water, we add 4 oz of linguine—supple but still al dente—to the pan. We throw in breadcrumbs for texture and add the julienned raw ramp leaves, which wilt in the steam of the pasta and bring a brightness of color and flavor to the dish. We toss everything a few times before plating and then grate Pecorino Romano over the top, so that it melts slightly by the time the dish makes its way onto the table. It may be my favorite pasta ever.

The recipe.

The result:

Check out this terrific spring produce guide from the good peoples at Saveur.

From NYC…

To L.A.

“The smell of good bread baking, like the sound of lightly flowing water, is indescribable in its evocation of innocence and delight.”
M. F. K. Fisher

Sullivan Street Bakery. Pure goodness.

[Image from Serious Eats]

Rhubarb-Strawberry Jam via Saveur.

Yes, please.

Okay, got a mouth-watering food blog for you guys to check out: Last Night’s Dinner.

This girl’s got it going on.

Peace to Dimelo for hipping me to this: Say word.

I had dinner with a friend last week and asked him, “What’s your favorite vegetable?

“Asparagus,” he said without flinching.

“Really? You don’t mind that it makes your pee smell funny?”

“No, I love that, man.”

Go figure.

For the longest, I didn’t dare try asparagus and funny-smelling pee was the least of it. But I’ve learned to like asparagus in spite of that peculiar side effect. So I was eager to try a slow-cooking method that I saw in the Times last week.

I made it last night and it was tasty. Props to Melissa Clark for the article.

[Photo credit: Andrew Scrivani for The New York Times]

It’s the new style:

[Photo Credit: Leah Nash for the New York Times]