Food, glorious food! I think there is definitely some kind
of connection between people who love food and love to eat, but are disasters
in the kitchen. It can’t just be me, right? I can prepare some food, which
means I can open the can of soup and heat it in a saucepan. I can grill a
burger, I can make a basic salad, and I can roast a chicken, if it doesn’t
require herbs, brining, or trussing the bits up with a French braid of twine
and toothpicks.
So, while I am no gourmet, I love to eat, and I’m
especially fond of any combination of pizza, French fries, and seafood. In
fact, I would elbow an elderly nun out of the way if someone had a clam pizza
and a side of fries. I also love to travel, so many of my favorite meals or
treats have been on the road. This weekend got me thinking about how I can
combine the things I love—travel, good food, and maybe visiting some friends
too.
They’re not mentioned above in my top three because before
this weekend, I thought hot dogs were good, but not worth assaulting an elderly
nun. A short road trip to Rhode Island, however, and I discovered not just a
good hot dog, but a”hot weiner.” I know, I know, we’re all giggling like a
10-year-old boy who just told a fart joke. But you know what? They’re real, and
they are spectacular.
In Rhode Island, you can get a hot weiner at a place called
“The New York System.” These beauties are a creation unlike anything else.
They’re a combo of beef, pork, and veal, with top-secret spices, mustard, and
onions. They are mostly served with “coffee milk,” another Rhode Island treat,
which is coffee-flavored milk that even Governor Healey would give up her Dunks
iced regular for. Fortunately, I have two good friends who live in Rhode
Island, so I will get to have this blissful combination again.
If I had to choose a favorite pizza, it would have to be in
New York City, a place I wish I could get to more often. It’s Joe’s Pizza in
Times Square. There is a near-constant line at this place, where you can get a
slice or a whole pie fresh out of the oven. It’s usually a minimum 30-minute
wait, but I’d wait twice that. Maybe it’s the New York City water that makes
the dough so crispy good, and the residue of a thousand pies that makes the
cheese so melty? It would simply not be possible to have pizza this good
anywhere else, and trust me, I’ve had pizza in hundreds of places.
In Vermont, where I often go to visit friends, there is
Al’s French Frys. A tiny spot just outside downtown Burlington that has
fresh-cut potatoes fried to order and soft-serve “creamies” that are not
low-fat yogurt but actual soft ice cream that tastes like something that came
out of a cloud of jimmies and milk. On a sultry July night, the flashing
neon-esque arrow signals that Al’s is open, and the parking lot is full of
friends old and new, crispy fries, and melting cones. I never miss a stop at
Al’s when I’m on the road to Vermont.
While it’s nice to hit the road for friendship and food,
when it comes to seafood, I have to give it to another red-shoed girl, Dorothy,
who taught us all there’s no place like home. Right here is where the Barnacle
serves up twin lobsters so fresh they were mouthing off at the cook while
hopping into the pot. The fish and chips would make King Charles weep, and the
view can’t be beat. When you see a pick-up truck offloading coolers at the
kitchen door, you know you’re dining local, with a catch that is mere hours
old.
Finding a new spot to road trip to for a delicious treat
made me realize that every special treat that I like, I heard about from a
friend. So thank you, Jake, for telling me about the Rhode Island dogs, thank
you, Molly, for pointing out Joe’s Pizza, and thank you, Mary, for Al’s French
Fries and creamies. Anytime you’re up in my part of the food scene, the fish
and chips are on me.
