Fun & Fellowship

March 24th, 2011

Gaffney, SC

They were loud. Incredibly loud. Obnoxiously loud. My six year hold hands could barely cover my ears enough, while holding a blow up sword in one and a bag of cotton candy in the other, to halt a drum blowout. They were the bane of every parade I attended in the early years of my life. 

Shriners Go Karts. 

Whether made over to look like stock cars, Corvettes, old hillbilly trucks or 57 Chevy’s, you could hear them pop and sputter and whine for what seemed like miles before they entered site. Call me a wuss but I was young, had sensitive ears and hated those things. For all I new those guys’ idea of a fun weekend was tying a few kids to a post and driving circles around them in those backfiring soap boxes. What were these Shriners anyway... old dudes in funny hats with, at the time at least, bad mustaches? 

As has happened with so many things in my life, I grew up to find what I once thought true to be just a bit different. Not only do most Shriners refrain from intentionally scaring kids with their minicars, but they also raise millions of dollars every year to fund their 22 hospitals in North America where children are treated for spinal cord injuries, burns and orthopedic ailments without financial obligation. I have found that they can cook the hell out of some Quail as well.

Established in 1870 as an appendage of the Free Masons on the basis of “fun, fellowship and brotherly love,” the club known for it’s social participation and generosity. Twice every year the Cherokee County Shrine Club hosts a fundraising dinner which focuses on the delectable little fowl that, unless you own a 12 gauge and a few acres of land outside of town, are not typical dinner fare. Tonight I was able to attend my second of these “Quail Dinners” with my dad and younger brother who was visiting from Charleston, SC. Over a thousand of the farm raised little birds were brought in to the “Temple” situated on, appropriately enough, Shrine Club Rd on the southern side of my home town, Gaffney, SC. 

In the spirit of the previously mentioned fellowship, this is great “activity food” as I like to call it. Not unlike a crawfish boil, oyster roast or low country boil(I believe it was only coincidence that those three examples all revolved around seafood, but I am certainly in need of a trip to the beach), eating quail require a large amount of effort on the part of the eater. Many small bones must be navigated, avoided and discarded in order to enjoy the relatively small amount of meat they possess. This is a down and dirty, eat with your hands, 24-paper towel kind meal. Lightly breaded and deep fried in peanut oil, when you tear into a half dozen or so(emphasis on the OR SO)  you feel the satisfaction of having at least put in some effort for your meal. 

The small muscles of the quail take on the consistency of fried frog legs, a good amount of chewiness, but not so much that it diminishes the enjoyment. Though it does make one wonder the difference between the admittedly non-professional kitchen “staff” here at the Shrine Center and the french guys to whom I forked over $20 for my last plate of amphibian. Perfectly seasoned and still warm from the oil, it was very hard to pay attention to the array of sides accompanying the main but I was strong enough to give them their due. 

Corn and green beans, staples on any dinner table in our region, they were good but not necessarily noteworthy. The dressing however, wow. Traditional southern cornbread dressing, awesomely seasoned and still incredibly moist, this is one side dish that I admittedly have never made and want so dearly to master. Biscuits - light, fluffy, buttery perfection. Screw a gun, happiness is a warm biscuit. All of these were spread out on the tables to be passed and eaten family style and were highlighted by the pièce de résistance - pitchers filled with brown gravy. PITCHERS FILLED WITH BROWN GRAVY! When any item ran out you raised your hand and they brought you more. What that means is for an entire hour, this evening, I had PITCHERS OF BROWN GRAVY ON CALL! I raised my hand and guess what happened...MORE BROWN GRAVY!

Sorry, I got a little overwhelmed there, ok, Im back. 

So the ol’ Masons were looking for fun, fellowship and brotherly love. I’d say that this night had all of that - great food, a couple of beers, hanging out with my dad, brother and some old friends I had not seen in quite some time, not to mention those pitchers, I would highly recommend making the trek to Gaffney at least once to check out this night of bone throwing. You have 2 chances per year!

 Cherokee Shrine Club
151 Shrine Club Rd.
Gaffney, SC 29340

Don’t F#@% With My Cheeseburger

March 20, 2011

Charlotte, NC

The majority of the senior management at my company, when trying to convey a point, explain a process or just tell a story, use sports analogies. They often relate a coach’s relationship with a player or a team’s triumph over a one-man show. 

These are typically lost on me. Not that I am unable to see the correlation between the anecdote and the issue at hand, but it just doesn’t get my creative juices flowing especially when they are referring to a specific game or player from 30 years ago. I like sports, just not THAT much.

In one instance, however, I was all ears while listening the our President and CEO speak when he used a food analogy. He is a very surefooted and pensive man who is not afraid to make fun of an economic analyst in an 8K or curse, with gusto, in a room full of employees in the middle of the bible belt. He was discussing our company’s plans to begin a new service offering and mentioned his only instruction to the group initiating this new product was that “this new hotdog had better not F#@% with his cheeseburger.” Now we’re talking! 

Interest now peaked and ready to seriously pay attention, I listened as he explained how a cheeseburger shop can make the best burgers in town. Then, in an effort to follow that entrepreneurial American spirit, they decide to add a hotdog to the menu. The hotdog is subpar and, because of their distain for the new venture, customers stop coming altogether - awesome burger or not. Next thing you know the place is out of business. This is what I thought of the first time I walked into Cast Iron Waffles and looked at the menu. 

Aside from their beverages - typical breakfast fare made up of fair trade coffees in all her forms, assorted teas of excellent quality and smoothies along with milks, juices and sodas - they serve waffles. Belgian Liege Waffles to be exact, but more on that in a second. They do not offer hashbrowns. No omelette station, eggs over easy on a griddle or even the fake stuff stirred in a cup and zapped on high for 45 seconds. No pastries, muffins or danish. No toast with jam. And, heaven forbid, NO MEAT PRODUCTS AT ALL! I mean no sausages, country ham or BACON. “How in the hell can a place serving breakfast not offer delectable, crispy, cured pork product to accompany its main lineup and expect to stay in business,” I asked myself on that first visit. 

I thought back to the musings of my almighty Chief Executive because when I originally thought about his analogy for a bit I realized that it was quite singular. Think about it, outside of those hotdog and hamburger temples, who else out there is able to get away with cooking only one thing. Its quite the opposite actually. These days most restaurants, especially those in the middle of the road, national chain, category, make a gut-wrenching game of who can cram the most crap on one menu (read Cheesecake Factory, if I wanted to get fish tacos, asian shrimp and a french dip at the same place I would mosey over to the Food Court and save myself 60%). No, those roadside burger joints and downtown hotdog carts are the only places that can get away with it. To try that with any other kind of fare would be financial suicide. Unless....unless, like those hero’s of grease, you take that one item and prepare it as if your life depended on it - because no doubt your livelihood does. You set out and through trial, error, science, common sense, skill and whimsy create something that is absolutely wonderful. Something truly different and astronomically better than anything of its kind that people have had in the past. What I’m saying is that if the Liege Waffles in Belgium are any better than those at Cast Iron Waffles then I can never have them, as I would die. 

Originating in the city of Liege, Belgium, these waffles are typically a more rich, dense and inherently sweet waffle than the traditional Belgian. Basically the volume on all of the great aspects have been turned up to 12. Adapted from brioche bread dough, they incorporate chunks of pearl sugar. At Cast Iron, when the waffles come out of the namesake Press, they are transferred to an inferred broiler where that sugar is caramelized in the outer crust. This creates an awesome crystalline crunch, not unlike that enjoyed in hunks of really good parmesan, which really adds to the decadence of the experience. 

Cast Iron offers their waffles in several forms, Naked - typically dusted with powdered sugar - giving you the ability to simply enjoy it for what it is... pretty damned close to perfection. Extra Sweet are topped with your choice of house whipped cream, an incredible maple butter, melted belgian chocolate or, my wife’s favorite, Nutella. The Deluxe takes the Nutella and whipped cream and ads fresh fruit, typically strawberries, peaches, kiwi, etc. They will top your waffle with a scoop of fat free(which is basically like ordering that Diet Coke with your Quarter Pounder meal) to make it a sundae. They have also started making some specialties such as the berry cobbler and the peanut butter cup, which is what I had this morning and inspired me to write this article. It was a sweet, salty, slightly crunchy square of awesomeness that had that rich mouthfeel of an over-stuffed peanut butter fold-over with a stellar contrast of warm waffle and cold from the fridge whipped cream. 

I have to be honest, the first day that I walked in I said to myself “eat up now because there is no way a place that just serves waffles can stay in business.” But I swear, when they do something this incredibly well, it makes complete sense that now, months later, they are still thriving...and my stomach is very thankful for that. 

Cast Iron Waffles

9604 Longstone Ln

Charlotte, NC  28277

What Comes Around...

February 28^th, 2011

Charlotte, NC

In my elementary school years I was involved in a boys group at church called the RA’s or Royal Ambassadors. Not unlike the cub scouts for that age group, it focused on development of character as well as growth mentally, physically and spiritually. One of our more frequent activities was taking one-night camping trips on some farmland owned by one of our RA leaders. It was on one of these trips that I was introduced to two things that would, ultimately, have a long lasting impact. The first…snipe hunting. I would spend many late, dark nights thereafter initiating others into the adventure of pursuing those elusive little rodents. The second…SPAM.

I was first served SPAM, sliced, sautéed in a skillet over a campfire and served on toast, by a fellow RA when I was 11 and he 12. I can remember watching that rectangular wad of compressed meat and binder splat onto the plate and then seeing it give way to a butter knife far too easily to be an actual meat product. I knew it was a bad idea before taking a bite but hey, I was with a loving and supportive group of boys that were between 10 and 13 years old – had I not tried it I would have been made fun of so badly I would not have been able to go to sleep because of the rapid-bottom-lip-movement. So I grinned, endured the taste texture and smell and then vowed never to eat it again. Simple.

A year or so later I went with my parents and bother on a little family excursion to Universal City in California. We were able to stay on the concierge floor of the Universal Hilton where, everyday, an afternoon snack was served. There would be various little treats and beverages, a pretty cool spread for a kid my age. One day there were these little rolls with rice on the outside and some kind of protein and vegetation inside. From what I’d seen on TV I knew that this stuff was sushi. And since I had recently read that the favorite food of Jason Gedrick, who played my favorite character of all time (Doug Masters), in my favorite movie of all time (Iron Eagle), was sushi, I was then bound and determined to try it and love it. Although it’s a little fuzzy nearly 2 decades later, I am pretty sure that my first foray into the Sushi arena that day in California was, a platter barely gas station worthy California Rolls. I decided very quickly that those “Hollywood” people were crazy to eat such horrible vittles and, again, made a solemn vow – this time to avoid the consumption of sushi, in any of its forms, ever again.

Thankfully, a few years later, I came to my senses, tried sushi again – at a very worthy and unfortunately now defunct temple to sushi called Tokyo in Charlotte, and I was able to find one of my most beloved food platforms. Sushi has opened my eyes to an entire world of flavors, textures and creatures that are rare to experience in most any other foods.

An enjoyment of SPAM, however, was not something that had come full circle. I had had no other reason, opportunity or inclination to venture back into the realm of potted meat. It’s just not a common “go to” in my life. For those who live in Hawaii, though, this is a different story. The love of “The Hawaiian Steak,” as SPAM is referred to often, is so dominant in the islands that it is on the menu at both McDonald’s and Burger King. It would then make sense that, on my first visit to Aloha Hawaiian BBQ & Grill in the White Hall Shopping Center on S. Tryon in Charlotte, I found something very interesting on the menu – SPAM Musubi. Literally an onigiri roll made with rice and sliced, warm SPAM. Do you really think I could say no?

I ordered one immediately and was amazed at what was laid before me. A thick layer or warm sushi rice and a freshly griddled slice if compressed ham, neither too thin nor too thick. Paired with a sweet and sour dipping sauce, it was quite incredible. The soft rice and chewy nori perfectly masked any possible textural unpleasantness created by the SPAM itself. The combination truly seemed to result in some umami characteristics. I will be ordering this again in the future.

The also have some other pretty incredible Hawaiian favorites. Chicken Katsu – pounded thin and breaded then fried to an awesome crispness. BBQ Chicken marinated in Hawaiian sauce – it stays very moist while on the charcoal. Kalbi Short Ribs - sweet and succulent. This little joint really has a lot to offer.

But in the end, there are 2 things that I once said I’d never try again that I have now come to love. Oddly enough they had to be combined for me so be able to say that about the both of them.  In an effort to save my son from a partially similar fate I have, at least, planted the sushi seed – which seems to be growing nicely.

Aloha Hawaiian BBQ & Grill

8107G South Tryon Street

Charlotte, NC 28286