Let’s make this clear:

Stadium food is, by and large, utterly horrible stuff.

Yeah, yeah, we’re the city with Wrigley and Soldier Field and Chicago Hot Dogs are legendary and that those brats and Polish sah-sages taste so good by the third quarter. I know. But it doesn’t mean that the food you so happily enjoy at a game is actually good. Robbed of its context–alcohol, entertainment, tens of thousands of screaming fans–a stadium dog is a sad little thing, with its sometimes-soggy, sometimes-rock-hard bun and its squishy tube o’ meat. Same goes for, say, your mom’s really greasy enchilada casserole that’s always so delicious when you visit her but turns out, well, greasy when you make it yourself. It’s not that you can’t cook it; it’s that you learned it was good in a particular set of circumstances and, robbed of those circumstances, it just doesn’t measure up.

I’m sure this rule of context only applies to very specific foods, but it’s interesting to consider how psychology and geography can play into how much you enjoy what you’re eating. I mean, I wolfed down a couple hot dogs at the Bears/Chiefs game (we will not discuss the Cowboys debacle; it never happened) and at the time they were pretty much the best things ever. Imagine if I got the same dogs on my plate at a fancy restaurant–hell, even at some hot dog dive–I’d have an entirely different reaction.

This is promising, really. It means I’ll never attempt some horribly unhealthy State Fair food on my own, because when you’re in your kitchen a deep fried twinkie is just gross.

-Jim is torn between being excited about his car and hyperventilating until he owns this

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Visiting the Renn Faire over the weekend (following Hillary’s footsteps), I noticed a theme to things beyond medieval outfits and terrible Elizabethan accents:

Sort of a…trend?

I don’t know, maybe it’s the hand-painted signs. What do you guys think?

Why are we, as a culture, so enamored with things on sticks? It’s not simply in fair food; look at the humble chicken drumstick (or, if you must, the gargantuan turkey legs available at the Renn Faire). Kids fight over it; KFC markets it; everyone loves it. I guess it all comes down to the pleasure and convenience of one-handed eating. I mean, if you only need one hand to chow down on your frozen banana, think of all the stuff you can do with that other hand: drive! Write! Hold more food!

Pratchett fanboy that I am, I kind of want to see more “___ inna bun” foods show up at fairs. Then again, given how Pratchett describes those foods, maybe I don’t.

-Jim

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Why not? Boardwalk food can get away with anything! J* and I visited my friend in Ocean City, NJ over the weekend, and over-indulged in all of it, as we strolled along beach shops, carnival rides, ferris wheels, and plenty of mini-golf. After driving for several hours on Friday without stopping, we were famished. My friend whisked us away to Mack and Manco’s Pizza (there are several locations on the boardwalk). Without menus, aside from what’s on the wall, we both ordered “Plain,” meaning just cheese. The slice was quite tasty; very cheesy with crispy crust, just the way I like it. The sauce was just slightly sweet. We asked for another, and the server shrugged and said “Yeah” with a little shake of his head. He was just barely mocking us, implying “That’s what I’m here for buddy.” That’s Jersey for ya.

After a disappointing experience at Coney Island, J* and I gave Ocean City a chance with funnel cakes. The Friday night cake was good (fresh and crispy), but nothing compared to the cake on Sunday night bought at a lemonade shop (Love’s maybe? 2 for $4 deal somwhere). This cake was fluffier and absolutely drenched in powdered sugar. It was sooooooo good. For a final shot of boardwalk food absurdity, J* tried the fried oreos (which are frozen before frying and covered with powdered sugar). I wasn’t a fan, but he loved the way they melted inside the fried funnel cake-like coating.

I tried a chocolate-covered banana for the first time ever, but was not thrilled, despite the fact that it was also covered in rainbow sprinkles (festive!). I passed on a Philly Cheese Steak as my friends devoured them, fearing my body would outright revolt, but they looked delicious from Del’s Beachside Grill. We also enjoyed the wonderful view over lunch from the “shack on the beach,” Sugar’s.

What a wonderful weekend of reading (on a whim, I’ve decided to read all the Harry Potter books, I read the first two on Saturday and Sunday) , eating (above), and a little bit of swimming (as I was laughing at J* for something and facing the shore, I was unexpectedly clobbered with a huge wave, almost lost my bikini and scrapped my knee on the bottom, fun fun fun!).

-Caley, amused by the number of calories this weekend but looking at salads and sushi for several weeks

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I saw the movie Waitress last night, and in short, it inspired me. If you’re worried this is going to be a movie review, don’t turn away just yet, it’s not. It just happens that this movie, centered around pie, motivated me to do some thinking about how food can be an outlet for so many facets of our lives.

In order for you to follow along with me, I do however need to give the obligatory summary of the movie (Warning: it may be considered a spoiler) so here goes:

When it comes down to it, I think cooking is an outlet for a lot of people. In terms of family, cooking can be a way to bridge generational gaps or settle differences. It can also make you feel like you belong. Cooking can evoke a sense of identity depending on with, for, or by whom you cook. And, not to stereotype, but for many women it can be very self-gratifying to be able to say they watched their mother’s or grandmother’s in the kitchen and are now carrying on their family’s food traditions. Even Jenna (from Waitress) does the same thing. Food keeps memories alive; recreating traditions time and time again from ancestors long ago.

Cooking can also be a form of expression. Like Water for Chocolate (the book and the movie) is about a woman named Tito who loves a man married to her sister but was never able to be with him physically. She expresses her love and intimate feelings for him through her cooking; feelings that he reciprocates and embraces while eating. Jenna, the woman in Waitress puts all of her emotion into her pies which explains why they are considered the most fantastic pies in the world.

It goes without saying that food is a basic need for all of us, but that is exactly why it helps us to relate to one another. Sure, food has its stratifying differences, from reputations attached to caviar as well as to chicken fried steak. But I think that when we cook, regardless of what the food is, or where it is from, we are fulfilling a hunger for something more than our own stomachs. We are fulfilling a hunger for self definition, expression, and maybe even sometimes, relationships. I think the expression “made with love” applies well here as the best meals are those that have meaning.

Food has the ability to nourish the soul, as well as the body, and I don’t think it could hurt to just realize that from time to time.

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Sunday afternoon and I found myself on the other side of Brooklyn at Coney Island. Since the powers that be will be soon be tearing down most of the old attractions, the long, LONG train ride from my island to Manhattan and through the better part of Brooklyn was a must. But, I’m not complaining. I had wonderful company and time to work up an appetite for artery-clogging carnival food.

Coney Island is hilariously boorish with its classic Astroland collection of rides, actual “freak shows,” and snake-adorned performers. Emerging onto the boardwalk, I immediately spotted a live-human target game called, I kid you not, “Shoot the Freak.” The poor (yet surprisingly nimble) sport was being shot at with paintballs and wore a necessary amount of multi-colored armor. People were lining up to participate and the crowd chose sides to cheer. I felt dirty just standing in the crowd and quickly moved off.

A little “grass” hut further down the boardwalk offered Daiquiris and Pina Coladas, as though Coney Island was an acceptable substitute for a tropical vacation. We humbly requested the latter from a distracted bartender, and nodded yes when she barked, “RUM?!?” Un-carded and having witnessed the liberal pour, we giggled at the staggering amount of alcohol filling up a large portion of the plastic cup. Aren’t Pina Coladas supposed to taste like pineapples and coconuts? Nonetheless, it tasted delicious about halfway through.

We moved on to bigger and better things. I wanted an elephant ear, but evidently funnel cakes are the preferred fried dough in these parts. We devoured a funnel cake on the beach that really should have been crispy but at least was completely covered in powdered sugar (as was J* with his navy-blue polo, ah what a yuppie). After a bit of walking around, I settled on a corn dog and J* ordered a “Coney” dog smothered in onions and mustard. This is the kind of awesomely disgusting food that you simply must eat in such settings. These baked Low Fat Corn Dogs are a much more reasonable way to enjoy carnival food in your own home.

We passed out on the train on the way back only to awaken and eat too much salt-water taffy compliments of Atlantic City.

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