Straight No Chaser

After my friends and I ran a 5k in Atlanta we were starving. One of my friends whipped out her iPhone and used the app UrbanSpoon to find us a local restaurant with an outdoor patio that served American food. Joe’s on Juniper popped up with good ratings and it happened to be just around the corner. When we stepped out of the car we emerged into a quaint and colorful neighborhood in Midtown Atlanta. We were relieved to see other color runners dining on the patio outside. Joe’s outside patio was decorated with white hanging lights, chalkboards with colorful designs, and TVs. It had a rustic charm that provided a relaxing and fun atmosphere. People were sitting outside with their dogs, drinking mimosas, and doing work on their laptops. This trendy hangout is a converted bungalow with an elevated brick patio. There was upbeat music playing and a jukebox for people to choose their own music. If it were a movie, it would shift from black-and-white into 3D color as we entered the restaurant. Not only were the diners colorful but also the restaurant itself had colorful flags hanging.

            We were seated right next to a party of 20 or so male color runners. They smiled at us but we didn’t think anything of it because we assumed it was because we were fellow color runners.  Our waiter was friendly but made a sassy comment about our outfits. After he took our drink orders he handed us large and colorful menus. We all started to laugh because there were naked guys covered with whipped cream on our menu. We didn’t pay much attention to the menu or our surroundings at that point because we were still reminiscing about the run. Sharing pictures on our cell phones distracted us from the obvious clues around us. When we started to take a closer look at the menu we were surprised at the subtitles for the entrees. The headings all had overtly sexual innuendos. The headings included “Burgers, Between the Buns”, “Sandwiches, you can’t beat our meat”, and “Wraps, be safe…wrap it up!”  We were slowly picking up on the hints that maybe we were more out of place than we thought.

            My friend Jenna had come back from the bathroom and sat back down laughing. She proceeded to tell us her interesting bathroom experience. When she walked out of her stall in the women’s restroom a guy walked out of the stall next to hers. She was taken back and surprised to see a guy in the women’s restroom. He could tell that she was shocked and told her, “Look honey there were no available stalls in the men’s bathroom.” After she shared her story we all came to the conclusion that we were at a gay restaurant. When my extremely conservative friend put it together in her head, her face turned white. I think that alone made my dining experience worthwhile. Little did we know that Midtown was home to a large amount of the city’s gay population. We were not just getting looks from people because we were covered in paint, but because they knew that we didn’t know we were in a gay restaurant.

            The party of guys sitting next to us picked up on our new discovery and decided to try and make fun of us. They had obviously been drinking all morning and kept taking tequila shots. One of the drunker guys was wearing his color run t-shirt and Depends diapers. He leaned over and said, “Girls, you know you’re at a gay bar right?” We told him we had figured it out and we all had a good laugh together. He proceeded to try and get us to take shots with him, but since it was 11a.m. and we had to drive back to Tuscaloosa we decided that we should pass. We asked them why they were wearing diapers and they said that they had been drinking since 6a.m. and didn’t want to have to stop to use the restroom. Although it was a little too much information, the banter with regulars helped us get a sense of what the atmosphere is normally like. It was a fun laid back atmosphere where gay locals come to have a good time. There was a chalk board covered in bright pink chalk that had the week’s events written on it. “Bitchin’ Bingo” on Monday nights caught my attention. I can only imagine what that looked like.

Our service was extremely slow. Because our food was taking a longer than expected our waiter brought us complimentary chips and dip. We were worried about our food because our new friends told us it gave him the “runs” last time he ate here. When our food did arrive I was pleasantly surprised when my burger was juicy and topped with fresh mushrooms and Swiss cheese. My friend’s veggie burger came loaded with guacamole, sour cream, and looked delicious. The burgers were so big I had to use both hands at all times. To make up for the lack of taste, I doused it in ketchup.

People obviously don’t come to Joe’s for the food. Although the food is decent, it is the easygoing atmosphere and the cozy patio the people that keep customers coming back. It is a good mix of mostly gay but some straight people but they are inviting to everyone. This was a great place for a burger, a pitcher of beer, and people watching.  

Nick's in the Sticks

My four years at the University of Alabama have provided me many opportunities to look back with immense nostalgia. My experiences have all had an impact on shaping who I have become. In my unfortunate realization that I am graduating in May I felt that Tuscaloosa and I had some unfinished business. When I realized that time was quickly catching up to me I decided to make a bucket list and acquire as many checks as possible. My college bucket list includes (but is not limited to): visiting Old Bryce at night, sneaking into the stadium, singing karaoke at Jackie’s, attending a concert at the amphitheater, and eating at some of Tuscaloosa’s most notable eateries like The Waysider; Maggie’s Diner; Archibald’s; and Nick’s in the Sticks. As I embarked on conquering foreign territory I decided to start by eating my way through the list. First check, Nicks in the Sticks.

Although it is a part of the city’s roots it is by no means located in the heart of the city. Nick’s Original Filet House was affectionately nicknamed by locals as Nick’s in the Sticks. The name sums up the location of the restaurant because it is literally located in the sticks. To find Nick’s in the Sticks you must take 15^th Street about 5 miles past the University of Alabama and drive into the middle of nowhere. When you stop seeing signs of civilization you will approach a small cinderblock building with a small gravel parking lot. While the location might err on the side of sketchy but the food is anything but. The building looks and feels more a home than a restaurant. The inside of the Nick’s is as simple as the outside. The one dining room is plainly decorated with Alabama memorabilia, a large American flag hanging in the window, and a collection of dollar bills pinned on the ceiling. The simplicity adds to its hole-in-the wall charm. 

Before visiting Nick’s I was warned to get there right at opening because there will most always be a line. Most newcomers hear about this restaurant is popular through word of mouth from friends who have eaten there. When I arrived I was in company of the regulars. I was surprised to see how crowded it was on a Tuesday night. It is obvious that there is a core group of faithful customers that keep this place in business. They could actually get by all year on the business they have during football season alone. The couple sitting next to us was greeted by Spoon the waiter, with two sweet teas and lemons. He then asked the older couple “Will you be having your regular ma’am?” Spoon was so genuine and good natured that his presence added to the overall homey ambiance. This simple gesture made envy the inner circle; I wanted to be a regular.

 While I waited for our food I ordered a Nicodemus. The Nicodemus is one very important reason why this restaurant is on my bucket list. It is the house specialty drink and the recipe is a “secret”. Most can guess that it consists of fruit punch, vodka, rum, tequila, and Bacardi 151. This is Tuscaloosa’s spin on a Pat O’Brien’s Hurricane in a styrofoam cup garnished with a cherry. Fail a test? Drunkenly break up with your significant other? Lock yourself out of your dorm after all of your roommates have gone home? The Nicodemus will make you forget all of these problems. Apparently one will get you tipsy, two makes you lose memory and three gets you shirtless singing N’SYNC on a bar stool at Gallettes. Just kidding. Well, maybe.

My feast started with a small iceberg lettuce salad with two crackers packages on the side. You are given the option of three dressings: Italian, Thousand Island, and Ranch mixed with Bleu Cheese. I stuck with the ranch and blue cheese combination which is the regular favorite. By this time the Nicodemus started to take its toll. I felt happy, warm, and extremely hungry. Luckily after I finished my salad my steak burger and baked potato were brought out. It was my assumption that the low price the steak would not be high quality and that would was wrong. Not only does Nick know how to cook a perfect juicy steak but he cooks it to the customers order. It was delicious and cooked to perfection! I was pleased that my steak was cooked medium-well just as I ordered.

After I wrapped up my meal I went to the cashier to pay. There wasn’t a cash register or computer, just clipboards with scribbled paper clipped to them. I just pointed to my table and the cashier did the math by pencil. In honor of my bucket list I decorated my own dollar and asked to hang it alongside other loving patrons. I was proud to leave my mark on this establishment and have my bill join the array of other bills on the ceiling. Affordable steaks and drinks make Nick’s a winning combination. Leaving Nick’s I learned about some of the unwritten rules. Come early, because the tiny dive fills up fast. If you want to eat a healthy, low carb dinner keep on driving. Eating there on game days in nearly impossible and lastly be careful how many Nicodemus’s you drink. These intangibles are a part of the tradition in and of itself.

There are several must dos before leaving Tuscaloosa and being able to cross off some of these things from my list has provided me with some of my fondest memories at the Capstone. Nick’s is a not a gourmet steak house but a Tuscaloosa institution. With the campus ever changing, it is nice to know that I have something that will be the same when I come back to visit. For generations family and friends have gathered at Nick’s to feel a sense of home and nostalgia. I look forward to bringing my friends and children back to this Tuscaloosa Gem and reminiscing about my college years/

Oasis

When last night’s raging party got the best of you, and you literally can’t remember any it you might have drinkers remorse. But you wake up, and your pounding headache is enough proof of a rough night. On top of feeling like death, you are starving. To cure the pure head-pounding, stomach-churning, I’d rather be hit in the head with an axe hangover, a Gatorade and a greasy burger will help relieve the miserable symptoms. Drinking all week just prevented daily hangovers and rolled all into one big one.  When I re-entered the real world I was woken up with a massive headache, nausea, and fast heartbeats. A hangover like this would typically prevent me from getting out of my bed or being productive. I was irritable, having hot flashes, and body aches. I would have rather been hit over the head with a sledgehammer than get out of my bed.  But I did not feel as bad when I woke up with a text from my friend that said, “ I broke up with my girlfriend, punched my best friend, and peed the bed…and I don’t know which one to take care of first.” Sometimes spring break gets the best of you.

            The Monday after spring break I was extremely exhausted from spring break and my hangover was catching up to me. For class we ate at one of Tuscaloosa’s best-kept secrets, Oasis. As I entered the restaurant I felt like I was being transported back ten years. The wood paneling and jukebox dated the little dive bar, but if I have learned anything this semester it is that hole in the wall restaurants usually produce some of the best food. I loved seeing the locals drinking a beer at the bar at 2pm. Since they are known for their burgers and onion rings, I had to indulge myself. I had already gained all of my weight back anyways. I hesitantly ordered my hamburger with everything on it.

After much anticipation my burger arrived. I was disappointed that it didn’t come with fries or any sides. When my burger was placed in front of me it looked perfect. Until this moment I have not been able to eat a full sober meal. I am used to all of the condiments dominating the burger but I was extremely happy that my burger’s toppings came in proportions that matched the burger patty’s size. I hate when condiments are dominate the taste of the actual burger. The bun was soft, but not soggy, and the perfect ratio to bun. This was hitting the hangover spot.  The first bite just exploded with flavor. It was crunchy when I bit into it and the warm salty juices flowed over my tongue. The bun was warm, buttery, and crispy on the inside. After I finished my burger I turned to my friend and asked him if I could have some of his, or at least his bacon. I could not put it down and I was so hungry that I was not embarrassed at how fast I was eating. The onion rings were possibly the best I have ever had. The onions slices were massive and the fried part clings to the onion. I hate when I eat an onion ring and you eat the onion in the first bite, leaving you with just the fried ring. The combination of hamburger and onion rings hit the spot. The memory of the tender hamburger patty still remains in my mind. hile the hamburger didn’t necessarily cure my hangover, it did help me feel better. I felt like it was soaking up all of the excess alcohol and toxins, I had consumed in the previous week. I found Oasis to be my oasis. There was nothing better than a perfect burger to make me feel better.

Food as an Addiction

Alex Campisi

Food as a Metaphor

Imagine being double the size of a football linebacker, or the size of a full-grown male gorilla. How about being unable to leave your house, walk around, or participate in other everyday activities due to your weight? That was the reality of 600 pound Melissa. As a child, weight was always an issue, but never did she dream of the size she became. She struggled daily with lack of control through food consumption. Melissa’s enormous appetite was caused by her addiction to food, which stemmed from something deeper. She knew that her food addiction resulted from her troubled past, but could not escape the satisfaction she only felt through consumption. The mind is a very powerful tool, and mental associations can often trigger a person to crave foods. Food addicts eat for every reason. Food helps one relax, celebrate, and defocus on an emotional situation. People who suffer from a food addiction eat to fulfil emotional needs like safety and comfort, but they also eat because they are angry or they just enjoy eating because it makes them feel better. Next, imagine Stephanie, a 25 year old 98 pound woman who suffers anorexia. She too has a food addiction, but in a polar opposite way. She fears food but thinks about it as much, if not more than Melissa. She has suffered this food obsession for six years. Melissa and Stephanie’s food struggle is an example of how addiction is a metaphor for food. Both women reached a pivotal moment in their lives where they had to change their lifestyles to survive.

Addiction has a social stigma. One who is addicted could be addicted to different things for different reasons. Society is body image obsessed. The pop culture celebrates people based upon their appearance. The social standard drives people in different directions of addiction to be accepted. There are two extremes in this situation, a woman who fears food and is weakened both mentally and physically and a woman who obsesses food and is weakened in the same way.

Emotions are usually at the root of the food addiction, especially if you consider certain foods “comfort foods.” It would be normal for Melissa to eat 2 Big Macs, 20 Mcnuggets, chocolate, and soda. She would eat because she was afraid to deal with her feelings, to reward herself when she was frustrated or unfulfilled, and to fill emptiness. She longed to have children and her struggle with food addiction prevented her from conceiving. Filling this emptiness with food that made her comfort propelled this addiction. Her marriage became a crutch to her addiction. Her relationship with her husband was based on her eating habits because he was the enabler to her food addiction. Dependence is a symptom of addiction and Melissa depended on him for everything. Her husband did everything from feeding her to bathing her and helping her use the restroom. Her over reliance on him propelled the cycle of addiction causing Melissa to use food to try and make herself feel better. Food was a way to self medicate.

Melissa’s real journey began when she realized that her unhealthy relationship with food was taking a toll on her life. She decided to undergo gastric bypass surgery, which allowed her to start losing weight. To become “normal” she endured many struggles to regain control of her life. Food had weakened her emotional and physical strength. Her real battle was not only physical, but also mental. This high-risk surgery did not produce overnight results. Although it slowly changed her appearance it did not change her relationship with food. Finding independence from her addiction took extensive therapy and work. She was used to eating if she was happy, sad, and bored. Melissa had to acknowledge where her real issues stemmed from and figure out why she was using food to self medicate. . After seven years of recovery, lifestyle change, and determination, Melissa changed her life forever. After dropping over 500 pounds her post- surgery regime allowed her to shift her focus from food to starting a family. Although she struggles daily with her addiction daemons, she is finally in control and able to start a new life.

Stephanie longed to look like the models she saw in magazines and on TV. Her distorted image of what she saw on TV was caused by many factors, including family pressures and emotional disorders. Her addiction to food resulted in major health issues that damaged her body to the point of health issues like organ failure. Still, her fear of food only weakened her. She obsessed daily over what she was allowed to have and often limiting her intake to extreme amounts. Food was the gateway to many issues that she had to address before she could overcome this addiction. Through her addiction, she developed problems with anxiety and depression, which only drove her food obsession issue deeper. Once Stephanie reached an all time low of 72 pounds, and her family threatened to put her in a rehab facility. She realized she had to overcome her weakness to food. She needed to enjoy eating and not fear it

            Although Melissa and Stephanie struggled with food differently food controlled their lives.  Melissa’s extraordinary weight loss reveals the struggles of how an addiction controls your life and the extreme measures you have to take sometimes to gain control of your life back. Stephanie’s struggle lies within her inability to allow herself to eat. She displayed an extreme control of physically eating, but lacked in control of her mental addiction to obsessing over food.

Food addiction, like any other addiction, is a loss of control. People with food addictions crave foods that are unhealthy to their bodies even though they understand the consequences of their actions. Like other food addicts, Melissa used food like a drug, to fulfill emptiness and other unmet needs in her life. People have to eat to live but in a food addict’s life, they live to eat.

Dinner with Dr. Seuss

All right, I might as well be honest. When it comes to my food fantasy, I am a little unrealistic. But I am allowed to be because it is my food fantasy right? There aren’t too many people who would wish to be transported into Dr. Seuss’s whimsical world. But when I found myself at Seuss Landing at Universal Studios last summer, I wished I could be transported into this magical world of talking cats, truffula trees, and walking fish.

In my food fantasy the Cat in the Hat escorted me through the Lorax’s psychedelic forest into Seuss Landing. The hilly forest is filled with yellow, bright pink, and red truffula trees. The silky soft tufts are topped with fluffy flowers that look like cotton candy bushes. I reach my hand out and grab one as I walk by and sneak it in my mouth before the Cat catches me. The sticky, sugary, and sweetness of the truffula flower quickly dissolves in my mouth. Before I can grab another bite I have to hop on the Sky High Trolley shaped like a fish that spins and swerves me into the big top tent of the Circus McGurkus. The Circus McGurkus is a magical restaurant where you are able to interact with characters from several of Dr.Seuss’s books. Bright lights are strung across the tent over whimsical architecture. Strange creatures are performing and acrobats are twirling overhead. I am escorted to a long table with red and white linens and truffula flowers on top of vase filled with water while One Fish Two Fish swimming in the centerpieces.

Seated around the table are my favorite characters. I am in company of elephant birds from Horton Hatches the Egg, the Grinch and Cindy Lou Hoo, and Yertle the Turtle. As the Cat pulls out my chair for me, his cohorts Thing1 and Thing 2 pop out of a box near the side of the table. As Thing 1 and Thing 2 try to take my drink order, waiters pass by carrying trays stacked, a fish in a bowl, and a double layer cake. As they jump out of the box they knock over the assortment of dishes and plates that the other waiters are carrying. I could have expected them to be mischievous and clumsy.

It was family style dinner. There is something about the colors and descriptions of Dr. Seuss’s foods that make everything look as colorful as they taste. The imaginative mind of Dr. Seuss dreamed up food that is as delicious as it looks sweet. Who could pass up green eggs and ham? Thing 1 asked me if I liked green eggs and ham. He explained that you don’t just have to eat them in a house, or with a mouse, in a box or with a fox. He even offered me green eggs and ham hamburgers and cheeseburgers. He convinced me to have the green eggs and ham hamburger. There were a variety of other foods to choose from. Plates upon plates of were being passed around of cat in the aat cookies, jello lakes, Thing 1 and Thing 2 cotton candy cupcakes, poodles eating noodles, brown-bar-ba-loots truffula treats, green jello eggs, fish kebabs, wocket pita pockets, three cheese trees, and cat in the hat mallow pops.

It is hard to choose my favorite entrée because they all tasted like desserts. Everything I put in my mouth was a sweet combination of salty of sweet. The truffula treats had multiple layers. Each layer provided a different experience that satisfied a different taste bud. The first layer tasted similar to what heaven would look like, a melted marshmallow dipped in warm chocolate topped with cheesecake bites. Right as I thought my experience was over my tongue was overcome with a new flavor. My second bite provided a salty balance to the sweetness I just experienced. It tasted just like the salty mix you eat off of ranch sunflower seeds, without all of the hard work to get the seeds. The last layer was a fruit flavor I never experienced before. It was a hybrid of strawberry, kiwi, and pineapple that could be found nowhere else. It left my palette refreshed and cleansed so I could eat the next dish.

To wash down my all of this food I ordered Moose Juice. Moose juice tastes like tangerine juice but sweeter with a hint of sour apple. There are other drinks in Seuss Landing to choose from. The zany Pink Yink Ink drink is Two Fish’s favorite drink, which he highly recommended to me. He offered me a sip and it tasted like a mix of strawberries, blackberries, and honey that have a consistency of a smoothie.

After I stuffed my face with food, I asked to speak to the chef to thank him for my meal. I was expecting a jolly plump character to walk out of the kitchen with an apron and a huge smile. Instead I was surprised when the Lorax walked out of the kitchen. This hairy unpleasant man was shortish, and brownish, and oldish, and mossy, and he spoke with a voice that was sharpish and bossy. I asked him his recipe for the truffula treats and he explained that the dish does not require enormous amounts of effort and time but imagination and creativity. Truffula treats call for 2 cups of imagination, 10 cups of sugar and spice, 2 teaspoons of vanilla and nice, a handful of whim, and a dab of silliness. All of these supplies can be found in your heart. You never know when they are going to be ready because it is different for each person because you have to believe in the creation.

The meals served in Seuss Landing are never just about eating. They represent sharing of ideas and a vivacious lifestyle. I was well fed, happy, and relaxed. Laughter fills the air, while Thing 1 and Thing 2 are bouncing off the walls. The intoxicating aromas of marshmallows and melted cheese are still wafting through the tent.

In my food fantasy books come to life. My fantasy is not limited to the food I eat but the overall experience. Dining with in Seuss Landing was definitely one of the most immersive experiences. My fantasy meets the front cover of a storybook where I learn more about Dr. Seuss’s work, creativity, and detail that was put into all of his stories and characters.

Sitar Review

I pride myself on being a risk taker and being open to trying new and unusual things. This is credited in large part to growing up with a mother who loves to travel. She exposed me to new places and cultures, and she encouraged me to learn more about them. Together we would find a little hole-in-the-wall store or local restaurants to try. She could always ascertain the authenticity and quality of the restaurants by seeing who else was eating there. For example, if we ate at an Italian or a Japanese restaurant, we would hope to find Italians or Japanese people dining there. Generally, you find that international restaurants in our country fall into either one of two categories, authentic or Americanized. Sitar appeared to be an authentic Indian restaurant. I was excited to try Sitar’s cuisine because I like to support local restaurants, especially ones that I have not tried before. I went in open minded, but unfortunately, I left unsatisfied and hungry.

When I think of Indian food, two things cross my mind. Overpoweringly spicy food- far too much for my palate to handle. And, fish usually prepared with sides of rice. Eating at a foreign restaurant is a constant education. A quick glance at the menu revealed a series of unfamiliar names:   Aloo Gobi Masala, Aigan ka Bharta, Dal Makhani. Thank goodness for the translation under the meal names, or else an inexperienced Indian food diner like me would have some trouble ordering. I would have had to close my eyes and pick wherever my finger fell (and hope I liked it). This unassuming restaurant is located next to the run-down bowling alley and a dry cleaner/tan/video rental place. I am also pretty sure that the “video rental” is code for adult film. The only cars in the parking lot were those of my fellow diners because we were eating after the lunch rush hour.

When I walked in the door I wasn’t surprised to see an empty room. There were only a few other diners. We were directed by the waiter/host/busboy to the back wall where the lunch buffet was located. Above the buffet, there were beautiful metallic tapestries hung on both sides of two paintings, which created an authentic ambience. I awkwardly stood at the buffet, I examined the entrees and was pleased to see a wide array of selections. I hadn’t eaten all day because I knew I was going to have a big lunch. I was trying to make my food selections, but the signs above the food were hard to read, if there were any signs at all. I just had to guess what I was putting on my plate.  I couldn’t help but load my plate up with everything fried and bread based.

My plate was full of rich and deep colors. It was stacked with red chicken wings that were cooked in a clay oven, while another chicken dish was marinated in an orange sauce with fresh spices sprinkled in top. It looked delicious, so I dove right in. My mouth instantly caught on fire. I had to balance out the spiciness of the food by chugging my Diet Coke and stuffing my face with Naan. My favorite of this food, I discovered, was Naan. The floury it bread melted in my mouth mouth. It looked just like pita bread, but it was made with white flour and baked in a clay oven. Since I didn’t know what was on my plate, I tasted everything cautiously from that point on. I try to like spicy foods, but I just can’t seem to learn to enjoy it. The chicken tasted like it was doused in spicy-sweet sauce that tasted similar to ketchup. My dining experience could have been a lot better if I was more educated about the food. It would have been helpful if they had walked us through the buffet when we came in.

After a long process of trial and error, I finally found something I liked. Of course it was dessert. For my sweet tooth, I filled a bowl up to the brim with Mango Chutney. I could barely remember to take time to breath in between bites. I would have been in heaven if it had been topped with vanilla ice cream.  At the end of our meal, I started to feel a hovering feeling from the staff. It was that uncomfortable feeling when you know that they are ready for you to leave. So we wrapped up our meal and waited in line to pay. The credit card machine was not working, so they had to write down my card number. This made me uncomfortable because I didn’t sign anything or receive a receipt.

I am not accustomed to Indian food and am not an expert food critic, but I was under whelmed and disappointed with my Sitar experience. Although I did not enjoy my food, I did enjoy experiencing new cuisine and good conversations with some friends. Sitar’s Indian Cuisine was definitely an experience, though maybe not the most positive one. I thought the lunch buffet was over-priced, especially because I didn’t eat very much. Maybe next time I will order off of the menu, so I can be sure to like what I order. I can understand why some people enjoy eating there because of its quaint charm of a family owned restaurant. It is also refreshing and unique compared to most of Tuscaloosa’s limited dining options. Although I enjoyed the learning experience and trying something new, I don’t think I will be returning in the near future.

Family Food Memory

Meatballs are the most memory evoking dish: milk, cheese, onions, garlic, salt, and pepper, pulled together by homemade tomato paste. It smells of grandma and grandpa’s houses after church on Sunday afternoons. The combination of meatballs and sauce is echoed by my grandpa’s complaints of hunger. The splashing of water being strained from the noodles, are the last things prepared before Grandma’s serves the family sitting around the table. 

            Sunday dinners at Grandma and Grandpa’s were a tradition. Every Sunday it was a struggle for my mom to get my brothers and me out of bed and to church. The only thing that got me though church was the thought of eating at my grandparents after. I would be dizzy with anticipation for the meal that awaited me. We would pull up in the driveway and I would try and hop out before the car was to a stop. When I opened the door open I was greeted with the intoxicating aromas of garlic, basil, and tomatoes. From that moment I found myself salivating and making a dash for the kitchen. I would first greet Grandpa who would be sitting at the head of the table with a kiss. After I would run to the kitchen greet Grandma with a big kiss and beg for a meatball. I would usually steal a raw noodle or two to hold over my rumbling stomach.

Sunday afternoon meals were never just about eating. They were about the whole ritual of cooking that precedes the actual meal and are as much a part of the experience as the meal itself.  With a smile on her face, a smear of tomato sauce on her apron, Grandma would spend two days preparing her signature dish for Sunday afternoon. Sunday dinners were events. Food is the focal point of many Italian’s lives and it is centered on family. Eating together provided time for my family to bond and connect with one another. During a typical meal Grandpa would sit at the head of the table while the rest of us sat around him. He was the head of the house and always got what he wanted. He was very demanding and was always yelling at Grandma about something. He would complain to my grandma, “ Mary you burned the meatballs” or “ the sauce tastes terrible.” While we would wait for Grandma to bring out dinner his loving side would come out when he would sing silly songs that had been passed down from his parents. He would start my favorite song off by singing, “ Seesaw, knock at the door.” I would ask, “ Whose there?” and he would respond, “Grandpa , what do you want? A glass of beer? Where’s your wallet? In your pocket? Where’s your pocket? In your pants? Where are your pants? You left them at home? Get out of here your dirty bum.” Songs like this help me remember the lively chatter and heartwarming laughter that filled the table at every meal.

Grandma’s recipe cards tell so much more of a story. Grandma’s parents were both immigrants from Santa Ninfa, Sicily. Her father worked on Transcontinental Railroad to support the family. He lost his hearing from an explosion working on the railroad and shortly after became very sick and could not work. This was also during the Great Depression, and although they were extremely proud they were forced to go on welfare.  To help support the family Grandma left school at fifteen and began working at Wasserman & Gimbel, which was a big factory in Manhattan that made men’s suits. From these humble beginnings great traditions were born in the kitchen.

When I pull out the handwritten meatball recipe on a 3x5 index card before I cook, I see the person who wrote it. I can remember my petite grandmother standing over the stove for hours to prepare dinner for the family. I collect her handwritten recipes, written in her own words with a fountain pen, in hopes that one day I will be able to perfect one of her meals. As I go through her other belongings I find her wedding pictures, post cards written from my grandpa to my grandma from war, and pictures of her and me. These bring back memories from my childhood as well as teach me more about her life. But it is not just the content that matters; it is the memories that belong with them. Cooking meatballs has become a fun way to spend time with my family. This summer I spent time in Connecticut with my family from New York. My cousin and her children still continue the tradition of cooking meatballs on Sunday afternoons. My cousin was able to teach me how to cook Grandma’s meatballs. We spent a couple afternoons in the summer cooking together. While we cooked I was able to learn more about my family and appreciate the history and tradition my family. It is important to be able to pass on the essence of Italian family experience by sharing the food with family and friends.

Maggie's Diner

Maggies’s Diner is Tuscaloosa’s best-kept secret. Most of Maggie’s customers discover the restaurant by word of mouth. Located next to a cemetery and a jail, Maggie’s Diner is off the beaten path: a white run down building with black and white awnings and metal security bars on the windows. When I opened the door I was greeted with the perfect whiff of fried and greasy foods. The aroma of fried food and sweet desserts triggered vivid childhood memories of my Granny’s soul food.

I would consider myself half Italian and half southern mutt. I am lucky to have the best of both worlds because I have two grandmothers who are experts in cooking their regional dishes. Unfortunately, neither of my parents inherited the ability to cook. Every Sunday after church I would look forward to going to my dad’s mother’s house for lunch. Grandma Campisi would cook all Saturday to prepare for Sunday lunches. She would have homemade meatballs, sauce, and cannolis waiting for us. I enjoy nothing more than homemade meatballs.

My mom is an Alabama native and her side of the family still lives in there. Every summer my mom would drive my brothers and me up to visit our family. Upon our arrival my grandmother and great grandmother would greet us with a home cooked southern meal. We would get so excited for a warm home cooked meal we would run up the stairs to her house and eat before we unloaded the car. Just like Maggie’s, we would have a variety of vegetables like fried okra, mashed potatoes, green beans, and black-eyed peas that were cooked slowly in a lot of grease. This was a special treat for us because if we wanted to have soul food at home in Florida we had to settle for Cracker Barrel. Sometimes my mom would get desperate enough for traditional southern food she would drive us into predominately black neighborhoods to fulfill our cravings.

My favorite afternoons were spent in north Alabama at my Aunt Chris’s house. She had her own garden where she grew cucumbers, squash, onions, peppers, and other herbs. My cousins and I would play hide and seek and get lost in the tall corn and bean stalks that were like mazes. We would help Aunt Chris pick the cucumbers and watch her make her homemade dill pickles. Aunt Chris would put the fresh cumbers in the jars and then she would boil vinegar on the stove. Then she added homemade dill, garlic and hot pepper and poured it on top of the cucumbers. In two weeks she would have dill pickles. She would make us huge mason jars of dill pickles to take home with us. I could eat all of them in one sitting if I was allowed to.  She would also take her squash and cut them up with onions and peppers and boil them in vinegar. After boiling them together she would pour it on top on her canned squash and have squash pickles. She would also can her own tomatoes. I wish my Italian grandmother could use her homegrown tomatoes. She would make us huge mason jars of dill pickles to take home with us. I could eat all of them in one sitting if I was allowed to.

When I walked to the counter at Maggie’s began to drool as I passed by the peanut butter cookies, cinnamon rolls, and pies. The smell of the desserts reminded me of me of visiting my Granny and spending time together while eating her famous pound cake together. Some of my most vivid childhood memories with my family were spent eating cake together. Pound cake Granny’s pound cake is a southern delicacy and a staple in my family’s dinners. This family recipe was originally handed down orally. It got is name because it was originally made with a pound of butter and a pound of sugar. My grandmother explained that southerners used everything that they had on their farms to make breads and desserts. Their desserts were made of fruits from their orchards and the pie crusts were made from flour, eggs, and butter. To make a pound cake you have to first cream your butter and sugar. Then you alternate adding liquid and dry ingredients like milk and sugar. Pound cake is very versatile because you can add peaches, strawberries and custard to top it off. Now that my brother and I are in college my grandmother will freeze her pound cakes for us and send them to school. If my brother finds them before I do he will hide them from me or eat them before I can ever get a slice. Now that my great grandmother is in assisted living my Grandmother cooks the pound cakes. Unfortunately, I don’t think my mother will continue this tradition but I hope I can.

Black-eyed peas, creamed corn, and fried okra with buttered cornbread are a favorite of the Phillips family. One of the jokes that my grandmother laughs about is when my little brother came to visit and asked her for slimy corn instead of creamed corn, and now it continues to be a family joke. My favorite vegetable to eat is black-eyed peas. To cook them you boil the peas in water with a little salt and grease (butter, oil, or pork fat). Before margarine and butter were popular it was common to use mostly pork fat. This gives the peas a richer flavor. Even though I was full I could not stop stuffing my face. At Maggies I ordered mashed potatoes and gravy, fried okra, green beans, and corn. They tasted similar to my family’s vegetables because Maggie cooks them in as much oil and grease as my family does.

Poor people in the south ate biscuits because they didn’t have anything else. Over the years it has become popular to get a biscuit through a drive through and it became everybody’s breakfast. A lot of old southern foods that were related to poor people have now become gourmet and popular for everybody. For example, Cracker Barrel is very popular. Soul food has survived for a few centuries and is now one of the most popular cuisines in America. Instead of eating at these mainstream chains I support and encourage others to try eating at restaurants like Maggie’s. There is nothing like your grandmothers homemade dishes but Maggie’s Diner is as close to home as you can get. Southern food is food for the soul. College kids still love their pizzas and hamburgers but every now and then we get that craving for comfort food. Maggie’s Diner fills that void and provides a sense of grandmas cooking in Tuscaloosa.

Bad Dining Experience

New York, New York. Center of the universe. New York is home to some of the world’s best entertainment, fashion, and restaurants. One warm summer night we stumbled across a beautiful restaurant hidden in the SoHo borough.  I was excited to eat at a local restaurant and have a taste of real New York food. The quaint patio that overlooked a park was complete with an abundance of white market lights and a jazz band. The restaurant drew a hip local base and well dressed out of towners. I could not wait to sit outside, soak up SoHo, and people watch.

First off, let me say that by no means am I a snob or a difficult customer to please. When we discovered  a trendy restaurant called The Place I had high hopes. The Place served American, Mediterranean, and organic cuisine.  Upon entering the restaurant we were greeted by a friendly host who happily accommodated our five person party. We were seated at a table that was so small it was uncomfortable. We were basically sitting on top of each other. The table we were seated at was right in the pathway of the waiters. Waitresses kept walking by our table knocking into us and making snide remarks about how we were in the way.  A waitress purposely bumped in our table to show her annoyance because we were in her way. She yelled and cursed at the host in front of us for seating us in such an inconvenient location. We felt extremely uncomfortable, unwelcome, and in the way.

After the waiter took our order and brought us our drinks the manager came up to our table and asked us if we would mind moving to another table. Although it was a pain to move we were almost relieved because of how rude the staff was being to us. We had to pick up our own drinks, menus, and carry them to our new table. Not to mention the menu had typos and misspelled words. Our new table was located in the back of the restaurant which ended up being a sports bar. I was beginning to get annoyed because the reason we chose this restaurant was for the patio, music, and hip atmosphere. We were sitting at a less than average sports bar with unclean rickety tables. The tables in the front had nice clean white table cloths but in the back portion of the restaurant the tables with bare. The silverware was wrapped in a paper towel instead of rolled nicely in a cloth napkin. Major downgrade. The back of the restaurant was literally the complete opposite of the front of the restaurant. It looked similar to Buffalo Wild Wings, decorated with sports memorabilia and televisions. Although the back of the restaurant was a less than average version of the front the food still cost the same.

After being relocated to the back of the restaurant we waited for over 15 minutes before our new waiter decided to grace us with his presence. Our waiter pulled up a chair and sat down at our table to ask us if we were ready to order. Not only did he sit down with us he was unsuccessfully hitting on all of the girls at our table. He had the guts to try out a pathetic pick up line on my friend. He asked her “do you believe in love at first sight?”  Before she could respond and then he chimed in with, “or should I walk by again?” Was he serious?  At this point my patience is beginning to run out. Finally he took our order and I was hoping things would run a little bit smoother. I should not have gotten my hopes up because things only went downhill from there.  

While we waited for our food I had to use the restroom. I have been told that you can always judge how clean a kitchen is by how clean the bathroom is. When I entered the bathroom I was repulsed. The stalls were dirty; there wasn’t any toilet paper or soap. It smelled like a bar bathroom in a college town. I wanted to take a hot shower and sanitize myself after I left the bathroom.

After what seemed like forever our food was finally brought out. After we ate our appetizer and our empty plates sat on our table and no one came to pick them up.  I was so hungry I could have eaten my own arm. Not only was our food slow to come out they got my order wrong. I ordered a hamburger and they brought me a cheeseburger and I hate cheese. It was also cold and tasted like it had been sitting under a heat lamp for a long time. At that point I didn’t care because I was starving. Halfway through dinner my friend let out a gasp because she found a hair in her pasta. I wanted to barf. Unfortunately we weren’t surprised that something like that could happen.

After eating a cold and unsatisfying meal our waiter was nowhere to be found. It would have been easier to hail a cab at rush hour then find our waiter. He probably was out taking a smoke break. My friend had to get up from our table and walk to the front of the restaurant to ask someone to bring us our check. Finally, after what seemed like forever our waiter returned with our checks.  The checks were all incorrect and mixed up. We tried to make it as simple as possible for him by breaking down the check and writing our names next to our meals. The waiter sat back down at our table and proceeded to ask me if he could borrow my cell phone to calculate the check. He could not figure out how to divide the check so I had to do it for him. I did not think it was possible for someone to be worse at math than I am but I was wrong. This ordeal lasted close to 10 minutes. I felt bad for his other tables that weren’t getting any attention.

It is not every day that you have an awful dining experience and I usually don’t complain about service unless it is horrible. And it was. After ruining every part of our meal and experience, I expressed my annoyance to the waiter. Looking back I probably should have asked the manager for a new waiter in the beginning. The service was so abominable it overshadowed the bland food. There is nothing more that I hate than leaving an expensive meal hungry and dissatisfied. Long story short I left hungry, dissatisfied, and left my friends number for the waiter as a prank.

My Guilty Pleasure

When I wake up Sunday morning extremely hungry and slightly hung over, the first thing I want is breakfast. I have my heart set on Chick-Fil-A’s chicken biscuit, but then it dawns on me that Chick-Fil-A is closed on Sunday. Why do you always want what you can’t have? My love for the Atlanta-based restaurant knows no end. I have gone to such extremes as buying multiple chicken biscuits on Saturday and leaving them in my refrigerator just so I will be able to have a chicken biscuit on Sunday. Chicken biscuits have become a staple in my diet. The soft buttery biscuit contains a perfect ratio of biscuit to chicken. When I unwrap the silver foil with red writing, not only do I know my taste buds are going to experience pure bliss, but I know nothing at that moment can be more enjoyable than my guilty pleasure, the chicken biscuit.

This past summer I interned in Connecticut where the closest public Chick-Fil-A was two states away. It blew my mind that many northerners have not even heard of Chick-Fil-A. I thought the chicken biscuit was universal. Not being able to access Chick-Fil-A just made me want it even more. I was definitely exhibiting signs of addiction and withdrawals. Unfortunately, there were no Chicken Biscuit Anonymous meetings I could attend, or perhaps they are very exclusive about who they let in. Those two months were nearly almost impossible to get through. I had to settle for less than average chicken biscuits at other fast food restaurants like Zaxby’s and McDonalds. Not only were their breakfast items greasy and mediocre, the service and employees were not what I was used to. These fast food restaurants are similar to a NASCAR race. They try to see how fast they can get you in and out and on your way while providing less than average and inconsistent service. How many times have you left a drive through and opened your bag to be disappointed with a wrong order, missing straw, or an item missing all together?

What makes these biscuits so wholesome and delicious?  Maybe it could be the flakey buttered golden biscuits or the juicy, white meat chicken. The biscuit is a perfect blend of flour and butter. It is just the right combination of firm but moist so that it does not crumble when you are handling it. When the savory southern style chicken compliments the golden biscuit, it becomes irresistible. When I unwrap my biscuit you would think I haven’t eaten in weeks because of how fast I devour it. Sometimes I forget to breath in between bites, and it is not a pretty sight. For the perfect mix of salty and sweet I recommend ordering a cup of coffee with your biscuit.

Chick-Fil-A brings people together. When my cousin was living in New York City and attending NYU, she had access to the only Chick-Fil-A in the area. She had also moved up to the city without knowing anyone else in the city. A friend introduced her to another New Yorker, who became extremely enthused when she found out my cousin had access to the Chick-Fil-A. The two of them went there together on one of their first dates, and they’ve been together for over two years now!

Chick-Fil-A is an overall quality experience. Their service is just as high of quality as their food. One morning I was in the drive through and ordered my usual number one with black coffee. When I pulled up to the window I realized I didn’t have my wallet. I was so embarrassed that I had to ask them to hold my sandwich for me while I ran home to grab my wallet. The employee at the window explained that it was their policy that if a customer forgets their wallet or if they are slow providing the customer their food it was on them. I was taken with their kindness and understanding. This was just a reminder of their exceptional commitment to their customers. Another tactic they use to provide excellent customer service is at the end of every transaction you hear, “My Pleasure” instead of “You’re Welcome”. This week I spent writing about the chicken biscuit, Chick-Fil-A was giving out free breakfast for an entire week. I have never heard of any other fast food restaurant giving their customers free food. Above all, the quality of service makes Chick-Fil-A more than a positive experience.

There are countless Facebook groups dedicated to craving Chick-Fil-A on Sunday. I can sleep well at night knowing that I share this guilty pleasure with other self proclaimed Chic-Fil-A addicts. The only thing disappointing about the Chick-Fila chicken biscuit is that it has to end.