I’d like to thank Serious Eats for finally having the bollocks to do a write-up of Rules, London’s oldest restaurant. For anyone who is curious, this single establishment is actually the place that convinced me that offal is not so awful. The steak and kidney pie was my first foray into the true workings of innards. And that was in 1998. I’ve been happily enjoying the inner workings of animals ever since.
Read it here. It has more words and better pictures than I could ever do from NYC.
It’s Wednesday, and that means it’s farmer’s market day. Selection at the market has been lacking, since all the rain this summer has really f-ed things up. Tomatoes are still around, and some root vegetables are starting to pop up here and there. My favorite ground cherries are still around, but the price is going up like oil after an OPEC conference.
I only picked up a few things, since I am not sure when I’m going to be eating at home this week. I got a few bianca rosa eggplants, some baby arugula, okra, and some baby garlic. I don’t usually make okra, so that will be an adventure in the kitchen for me.
Having finished off the stuff I got from Ronnybrook last week, I meandered down towards 1st avenue at the market, expecting to see Ronnybrook there. BUT THEY WEREN’T. WTF? Where are they? Does anyone know?
Also, if any of y’all want to see the burgerboy in action this weekend, I’ll be at the Seaport farmer’s market at 5.30am, helpeing set up.
Didn’t think so.
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Follow all of the crazy BloggingforBurgers antics on twitter! User name @burgerblogger. Get updates via email, send it to your friends, you name it, we can do it.
So BG and I spent the weekend out in Bridgehampton, getting some much-needed sun and relaxation. While out there, I usually stick to grilling up some fresh fare and lazing around. July 4ths 12-hour smoked pork shoulder was pretty hard to beat.
July 4th Smoked Shoulder
However, this time around I had a craving some a little scene and a little ground beef. My last burger at a restaurant had been DBGB and the “burger” from Mantao really wasn’t cutting it for me. I also wanted to experience the day scene at Bobby Van’s in Bridgehamton. Call it my inner 60 year old.
So BG and I prepared physically by going for a nice walk around town. Walking by BV’s early on, the scene was pretty dead- only a few busboys walked around setting up tables and stuff. It was pretty much like every other Hamptons hangout by morning light: totally unimpressive.
Later, after soaking in some sun, we headed back. I was starving so I had a Blue Moon as my pre-appetizer. Then I settled into a huge salad with blue cheese, walnuts, and roasted golden beets. Note the order in which I listed the ingredients. The plate had more blue cheese than I knew what to do with (and survive, at least). But that was ok, I saved half, like the conscientious eater I am, and waited for the main event.
When the burger showed up, I was instantly a little bit disappointed. Whoever had made it did let it rest, but they let it rest a bit too long– some of the cheese had already congealed on top and had hardened a little bit. I was mildly disappointed with this, since I like my cheese gooey and my crust crunchy. This was not the case. Not sure if it was an off day or what, but I was let down. The flavor was good, so I knew that the meat was a quality blend and the seasonings were correct. I usually wouldn’t think to send something back, and I thought about it for a second, but couldn’t do it. I’d say that if you all head out to Bobby Van’s for lunch in Bridgehampton, do yourself a favor and order it rare– it’ll probably come medium.
Despite this, I still did manage to finish every last bite…
Bobby Van's Burger
NB: the fries are excellent– nice crunch and the perfect amount to prevent you from feeling like a fat kid.
4 out of 7 cows.
Bobby Van’s Main St., BridgehamptonA quick anecdote on the power of word of mouth, aka, I don’t think the kracker is an actual doctor.
A few months back, while pregnant with my soon to come cousin, my aunt decided to go ahead and develop gestational diabetes. While this in general is a pain in the ass (as she said, it “forces me to eat healthy but without any of the weight loss benefits”), it has had an unexpected effect on the sales of a certain gestational-diabetes-friendly product, Dr. Kracker’s Crackers.
Now, I don’t think that Dr. Kracker really exists, and if he does, he should change his name, because he’s a racist (and he might be related to uncle kracker, but I digress). In any case, the Dr. Kracker story starts in the German plains, where he was inspired by their flatbreads and blah blah blah. Net net, the crackers are made with whole grains and are diabetic-friendly.
In any case, my aunt brought these cookies to her own baby shower, much to the delight of all of her guests. The krackers were instantly a hit. I had a couple myself, and they are pretty good, but I have not actively sought them out. The BG, on the other hand, is a different story. She was so taken aback by these crackers that she began a crusade to find them. After several failed attempts, she finally found them at a certain branch of the Whole Foods monolith. She took them home to her apartment, where she co-habitates with her mother.Her mother was so overtaken by Kracker, MD, that she, too, became mildly obsessed with them. To demonstrate the degree to which she has become entirely infatuated with these crackers—she eats around five different food items. This is now one of them. The Kracker has taken over exactly 20% of her normal food intake. That is a brand manager’s wet dream.
And the chain continues—after finding the crakers, BG writes on my aunt’s facebook wall, “I found the Kracker!” not trying to be racially insensitive, of course. A random girl responds to the BG, “I don’t even know you, but I love them, too!”
The kracker gets around.
And the chain continues—on a weekend trip to BG’s grandmother’s house, BG’s mom brings a box of the crackers. Dr. Kracker comes in with his suave Doctor-game and sweeps BG-ma off her feet. Game, set, match, Kracker. She is obsessed with them now, too. I saw her take out no fewer than 10 boxes from her traveling bag last night. While visiting BG-ma’s house, BG’s aunt comes over and samples the dcotor’s goods. What happens? She hates them and spits out her first bite.
Just kidding. She becomes obsessed, too. Sensing a theme here?
I can only imagine that this is but one of many similar stories across the US. Never underestimate the power of word of mouth. It is a true marketing tool.
