Celebrating my birthday at the Atlantic Center Mall Chuck E. Cheese's opening week cured me of all desires to ever set foot in that shopping center again (ok, I had to get my driver's license renewed at the second-floor DMV). Tabletop diaper poopers, animatronic abusers combined with oblivious parents create the violent hot wing-loving teens of the future.
The most trouble I ever caused at a chain in high school was sharing a plate instead of paying for my own at Izzy's buffet.
Ad Age has a nice visual round-up of all the big burgers on the scene. Carl’s Jr.’s $6 Burger that launched in ye olde days of 2001 almost seems quaint now.
Meanwhile, I went back in time this weekend and tried a more petite Kaiser roll slider at White Rose System in Roselle, New Jersey, just one of many Garden State diners still griddle-steaming. Fortuitously, I ended up driving past another exemplary specimen in this genre, White Diamond in Clark, just a few hours after this lunch.
Unfortunately, I can’t speak at length about this slider and the experience because I became inexplicably and violently sick en route to New Jersey and could only pick at my burger and crinkle cut fries. I would’ve just chalked this up to random illness if the exact same thing hadn’t happened the last time we made a Saturday afternoon New Jersey trip in early September. I’m starting to think this is a case for House M.D.
The first time this happened, I was fine until we got onto Route 1 and out of nowhere began sweating so bad my hair became soaking wet and my head started spinning. I managed to accomplish one of my shopping tasks, buying hair color at Sally Beauty Supply but had to run outside because I felt vomit coming on. I couldn’t find a place to puke so went into the nearby Wal-Mart looking for a bathroom, then became extremely dizzy and disoriented. Ultimately, we had to turn around and head the 20 miles home.
This time I started getting sweaty, dizzy and nauseous within five minutes of getting into the car, before we even got on the BQE. By the time we got to White Rose System, a good 45-minutes-later, I was burning up and my stomach was jumping around. We stopped at Walgreen’s and picked up Dramamine, all I can think is that that I have a problem with motion sickness (as I kid I got car sick constantly, not so much as an adult). After taking a few pills and sitting in a freezing car with my eyes closed for 25 minutes while James was in Trader Joe’s I perked up a bit. The rest of the day I was sleepy and had the chills but at least didn’t feel like puking. I’m still sad that I didn’t get to enjoy my slider.
The odd thing is that we drive at least once a week, all over Queens and Brooklyn, and I never get sick. It’s only been the last two times we’ve gone to New Jersey. If this happens a third time, I’m really going to be baffled. In the mean time, I’m keeping a stash of Dramamine and Tums in the glove compartment and hoping I don’t have a brain tumor.
Also buried deep in all this fried chicken coverage is the news that Stephen Tanner, formerly of Egg and Pies and Thighs, will be bringing some chain flavor to the old Black Betty space. “Tanner says will serve bar food like Applebee’s, ‘but better.’” Williamsburg riblets!
What is it with Wendy’s and food-shovelers? First there was the Mormon girl who chugged her Frosty so fast she didn’t notice the engagement ring sailing down her esophagus.
Now, people are inhaling plastic utensils and getting them lodged in their lungs? The explanation was simple.
“‘I'm a gulper,’ he says. ‘I gulp stuff. I always have.’”
They are not alone. Apparently, there is a whole subculture of men who competitively scarf the entire Wendy’s Value Meal in one sitting. Ok, just these guys and this gentleman.
Even as someone who appreciates chains, I do have to side with modern Spanish gastronomy and Food & Wine's Kate Krader in this instance. Plus, who wants to align themselves with bankers, Jack Daniel's Ribs & Shrimp or not?
One of my favorite May-December romances of 2008 was the pretty boy teen and the not-so-pretty 37-year-old teacher. Does, "I'm tapping that ass and there's nothing you can do about it" ring any bells?
Former model, Joshua Walter, has now been arrested for participating in a crime spree that ended this weekend at a Queens Dunkin' Donuts with a pistol-whipping instead of an ass-tapping. Thankfully, it was not a Tim Hortons.
Why don’t run-of-the-mill grocery stores in NYC sell bulk food? This was literally keeping me awake last night. I yelled the question repeatedly from my bedroom into the kitchen where James was doing dishes and garnered no response until my third attempt got a ridiculous “It’s not worth answering.” That’s absolutely not true.
A million years ago when I first moved to NYC I was stymied by the Associateds, Key Foods, C Towns and the like packaging everything up for you in Styrofoam and cling film or plastic containers. What if I only wanted a handful of white mushrooms or half a cup of pecans? It seemed so wasteful to force large amounts of perishables on a shopper.
My genius idea would be selling fresh herbs in bulk. Of course, there wouldn’t be much profit in this business model. I can never use 20 thyme sprigs or even a whole cilantro bundle before it starts to go bad.
I’m still not sure if it’s a space and convenience issue; it’s just easier for a store to present you with ready-to-go items, if it’s hygiene like too many hands touching the goods, that people would just take food and not pay or that New Yorkers have a more difficult time than the average consumer with self-service (I tend to believe the latter having seen way too many jams and general cluelessness at the few stores that offer self-checkout).
My big scam when I was a younger teen and candy was enough to make my day, was filling my baggie with bridge mix and writing down the code for chocolate-covered peanuts, which were way cheaper. I only got busted once, which was no big deal because you could just play dumb. People were more trusting. This was during the era when stores would sell kids cigarettes with notes from their parents (I had a neighbor in high school who legitimately did this, the reasoning being that they had had drug problems and were in recovery and their family was happy to see them smoking as long as it meant they weren’t abusing other substances).
I’d forgotten about the lack of bulk food even being problematic until this weekend when I paid a visit to Wegmans in Woodbridge, NJ, a much higher class of grocery store than the already classier-than-NYC garden state supermarkets I normally patronize. The store is mammoth with spacious rows of anything you could think of (except corn tortillas and polenta in a tube it turned out—what’s up with the maize aversion? Maybe someone read The Omnivore's Dilemma one too many times) including a nice row of bulk food dispensers. You don’t even know the joy I derived from meting out the tiniest scoop of pepitas. It’s very satisfying to pay $1 and some change for what you actually need instead of $5 for a container that will just go stale.
I would’ve explored Wegmans further (and possibly found those corn products eventually) but I was running late to meet friends at Cheeseburger in Paradise just minutes away on the other side of Route 1. If you ever want live covers of all your favorite ‘90s hits (think Counting Crows and Extreme) and a signature cocktail composed of pina colada, rum runner, margarita, daiquiri and blue curacao layers, all in the same glass, garnished with a gummy cheeseburger on a toothpick and fruit wearing sunglasses (they’re called “garnimals”) show up at this Jimmy Buffet chain at 9:30pm on a Saturday.
Oh, and why don’t they sell bulk food in NYC?
I would be sad about Bennigan’s closing (I’m kind of excited about a Ruby Tuesday getting blown up, though) if I’d ever been to one. I didn’t even know the chain was Irish-themed. I wanted to learn more about the Kilkenny Country Chicken Salad, but their website is already down.
Mervyns (no apostrophe) filing for bankruptcy, however, fills me with sadness. I haven’t set foot in one of the so-so Kohl’s-esque retailers in over a decade, and I know they closed all of their Oregon locations early last year so this shouldn’t come as a surprise. But I’ve always had a soft spot for the chain.
Any shop that still has a section called missy (which contrary to popular belief is not a euphemism for plus-sized. Missy just means the even 4, 6, 8, etc. sizes as opposed to the odd-numbered 3, 5, 7 narrower-cut junior sizes. And while I’m on this tangent, I was shocked at this letter in Time Out NY a few weeks ago from a girl who claims she never can find XS or size 4 at H&M. Are you shitting me? I even emailed the store when they first arrived in NYC asking why they didn’t seem to stock larger sizes even though I know for a fact they make clothes up to a size 16 since it’s clearly listed on in-store placards. I did feel a bit vindicated by the Time Out’s response: “We did a random, unscientific sampling of the summer stock racks at four Manhattan H&M stores, and size 4 was among the top three most populous sizes in each instance, while a mere 6.7 percent of garments were size 14 or above.” ) is good with me.
Photo of a 2005 Mervyns still using the '80s font instead of the current yet still '90s perky style from The Detroit News
