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Jul 04, 2000
Celebrating the 4th of July or the day of the dog:
I've never really associated myself with any of those national holidays—I mean, I wasn't there when Columbus discovered America, cheering as he set foot on our shores, or dining with the Pilgrims and Indians in Massachusetts on that first turkey with all those side dishes and triptophane problems on the third Thursday in November; Memorial Day; Labor Day; President's Day; Christmas (ok, I still see those guys occasionally on street corners in December and I remember sitting on Santa Claus's knee in some department store and getting my picutre taken and looking at it in my parents bedroom for the next 20, 30, 40 years and wondering what that guy really looked like behind the beard); New Year (I've been at least semi-conscious for that one every time it happens and also for the way it stays with you a while until you successfully make the transition to the new date). Why don't they just lump them all together and give everybody 10 days off: eat, remember, shop, labor, etc. etc? But the 4th of July, of course I wasn't there when they signed the paper, and there is no video of events. However, I was there the first time I ate a hot dog, and I've been there every time since. My anticipated excitement was rekindled yesterday with the announcement that employee meal at 71 Clinton would consist of the revered combination of hot dogs, french fries and ketchup (for some). After several hunter gatherer attempts by various staff members the requisite hot dog buns were procured. In this instance, amid great controversy amongst the various male members of the staff, the chef's choice of preparation prevailed and the dogs were boiled and served. (But without the ever-important celery salt, which is a key element to the enjoyment of the boiled dog, which the chef fondly remembers first having with his father in the famous Rhode Island style.) His father, not being present for staff meal returned to the restaurant to find a pile of naked dogs covered by cling-wrap on a plate in his wine storage area. Knowing that my beloved Rachael had not partaken of the staff meal, I proceeded to sculpt what we were both to agree was a divine dining experience: a little butter smeared on the rolls prior to toasting them a golden brown, the hot dogs themselves grilled with well done sweet, crispy bits and then combined with the rolls and some Dijon mustard resulted in smiles and moans of gustatory delight. Now, to the point of all this fluff I've been spouting: what to drink with the dog? At the end of the work night Rachael and I were again hungry, so, at her urging I repeated the earlier gastronomic experience, this time unexpectedly elevating our enjoyment with the accompaniement of a delicious dry 1998 Gewürztraminer
(Estate Bottled) from Navarro and a sample of a 1999 white Crozes Hermitage from Alain Graillot (Rousanne and Marsanne grapes) from that notorious bon vivant "the Wheel."
[posted by dew-dah]