#7. Split Maryland beaten biscuits and put some thin slices of ham in them.

I make a lot of dough…

…and no I don’t mean money. I mean literal dough, pizza dough to be exact, that you put in an oven and bake. I enjoy making dough though almost as much as I enjoy making money. There is something blissfully mindless and relaxing about measuring out some simple ingredients, following some instructions and having something delicious come out of it all that you made with your own hands. So I decided to make some dough of my own and what better way to kill two birds with one stone than make doughy Maryland beaten-biscuits for my blog.

       These unusual biscuits are generally connected with the mid-Atlantic and southern Appalachian regions. Marlyand Beaten Biscuit recipes are good examples. Food historians trace the practice of "beating" bread to England, possibly as far back as the 16th century.

       Maryland beaten biscuits have an interesting history of being economically accessible, culturally specific and, almost always, a very local and authentic food in the Old Line State. Beaten biscuits consist of four ingredients: lard, flour, water and salt. The dense and sticky dough is mixed manually and beaten by hand, some recipes calling for 1000 times and some for a half-hour of pounding; the beating part is what makes these little bread balls truly unique.

       Recipes for these biscuits can be found as far back in colonial times, originating from Southern Maryland and Eastern Shore plantations. Archaeologists believe that leavening was in short supply during colonial times; most likely due to slow shipments and tight budgeting, as shipping foodstuff to the Colonies was time consuming and expensive. In order to make biscuits that could rise without leavening, one had to beat the dough which put tiny air bubbles all throughout. Dough was often placed on tree stumps and wooden boards and beaten with the back of an axe  or an iron bar until you could hear popping noises. These biscuits could also be kept for a long time due to their sturdy nature; hard and stiff on the outside, doughy and chewy on the inside. Dough balls the size and approximate weight of golf balls were formed by hand and then baked.

       This dough was so particular to the southern and coastal parts of Maryland they were called “Maryland Biscuits.” The economical and simple biscuits were even considered high-class party fare in the late 19^th and early 20^th century, where the tiny biscuits were served with thin slices of country ham.

       Today, beaten biscuits are not nearly as popular or well-known as they were 100 years ago; the necessity of the biscuits has disappeared due to the availability of any food products and monetary resources. However, on the Eastern Shore the tradition lives on with Orrell’s Beaten Biscuits. The Orrells have brought beaten biscuits into the fancy 21^st century with multiple flavors of biscuits (including whole wheat for the health nut and pizza for the adventurous foodie) and online ordering and delivery. Although modernity has touched the antique recipe, the biscuits are still made and beaten mostly by hand; for practicality reasons, the beating process was replaced with a mechanical roller that delivers the same motions to the dough. Other than this small change, the hand-made biscuits have remained relatively untouched (ha ha). The Orrell’s attempts at bringing an old Maryland culinary and cultural tradition back to the forefront of popular local cuisine have been successful this far:  multiple retailers throughout Maryland sell them (including Grauls!), they have been featured in the New York Times and they ship thousands of the little babies all over the country.

I did not purchase my biscuits from Orrell’s, as much as I would have liked to. I was pretty tired from making pizza dough and I figured I’d try my hand at making the biscuits the old fashioned way. After beating the dough for half an hour, getting flour all over my kitchen and having to clean it all up I realized it would have been less work to drive 40 minutes away to just buy some. Nonetheless, they were delicious and fresh. I filled the hot biscuits with butter and home-made strawberry preserves for dessert and today I filled two with thin slices of ham for a snack. For a while though, I’ll stick to making dough as in money. It’s much less exhausting than making biscuits.

References:

http://orrellsmbb.com/

http://www.foodtimeline.org/foodcookies.html#beatenbiscuit

#41. Gorge yourself on the Monday night all-you-can-eat at Vaccaro's

Okay, so today I learned that Monday’s really aren’t that bad.

Today, in yet another blog adventure, I discovered another one of Baltimore’s Monday Specials. Craving dessert, my cousin Annie and her parents (my Uncle Tom and Aunt Terri) all went out to Vaccaro’s Italian Pastry Shop in Little Italy for their $16 all-you-can-eat dessert special. We all thought it would be easy to eat $16 of dessert each… oh the naiveté.

Vaccaro’s is a Baltimore dessert institution; Italian restaurants all over the city and county (and sometimes other counties) boast Vaccaro’s cannoli, as well as some of their other desserts. The café in Little Italy is a beautifully decorated, small but busy shop with large display cases of cookies, cakes, pies and gelato. The sweet smell wafting out of the shop is enough to make you drool, and it becomes even stronger when you walk in as the sweet smells mingle with the scent of fresh espresso.

Vaccaro’s has been tempting citizens of Baltimore since 1956. Gioacchino Vaccaro, born and raised in Palermo, Italy, came to Baltimore and opened his pastry shop using authentic recipes from home. Mr. Jimmy, as Gioacchino came to be known as, started just with cannoli, rum cake and ricotta pie. As the pastry shop’s popularity grew, Mr. Vaccaro and his sons opened the café across the street and, eventually, three other locations throughout Baltimore and the surrounding counties to accommodate the increasing demand for their pastries, now much more than just cannoli, rum cake and ricotta pie.

When we sat down, my aunt, uncle, cousin and I discussed all the courses we thought we would be having that night. Boys were we wrong. I ordered the plate of “mini” cannoli, Annie got an éclair the size of an infant, my aunt Terri got “Death by Chocolate” (which I am pretty sure you could either smother yourself with or drown in) and my Uncle Tom ordered a hot fudge sundae with a plate of cookies that could have fed three people. We, as well as the people who had just sat down next to us, were astonished by the size of the delicious looking desserts. We each managed to eat at least half of our desserts (which is a rule: one dish at a time, you must eat at least half before ordering another and no take-out) before ordering another. Another sundae (apple pie napoleon this time), some chocolate gelato and for me a slice of ricotta cake were all we could muster between the four of us. I was full and happy by the time I finished off half of my plate, exhausted by my busy day and all the delicious food I had eaten.

Vaccaro’s prides itself on serving authentic Italian desserts and drinks to the citizens of Baltimore for affordable prices. The pastry shop’s identity as an authentic, family owned eatery makes the store even more beloved by Baltimore, where family institutions are upheld as delicious tradition. The shops history is prominently and proudly displayed on the menu, a testament to the humble family beginnings and Italian heritage of the pastry produces. Where else can you get delicious, home-made Italian food, let alone dessert, for only $16? Cannoli as big as my forearm, éclairs as large as my head, scoops of gelato the size of grapefruits nestled next to unbelievably light pieces of Italian ricotta pie… I had to stuff myself to even get my money’s worth. Waddling through the streets of Little Italy in twilight is never attractive. But it was all worth the reminder that Mondays can be oh-so-sweet sometimes.

References:

http://vaccarospastry.com/history.jsp

#70. Chicken salad from Graul's Market!

This Monday morning was particularly dreary.

     Waking up at 6:30 to drive to Towson to take the GRE was already exhausting, but getting out of the test to find a cloudy, rainy day really made me want to go back to sleep. Instead of going right home though, I made a stop at Graul’s Market on Bellona Road in Towson for some of their famous chicken salad and a fun distraction from a rainy day full of typing and research. Graul’s is known as an upscale food and drink market and is a Baltimore favorite from way back. Just walking into Graul’s and seeing all the colorful items on the shelf, most of them different than those on your local grocery chain’s shelves, is always an adventure. The ready-made dinner counter, deli and bakery’s display cases are filled with delicious, home-made foods that make anyone’s mouth water. This is where I found myself at lunchtime today, not knowing if I’d be able to only buy lunch instead of a few carts worth of food.

The first Graul’s market was opened in 1920 by Fred and Esther Graul on East Monument Street in Baltimore City. The second store was opened in Cape St. Claire, outside Annapolis, by Fred and Esther’s son Harold Sr. in 1958, upon Harold’s return from service in World War II. As the Graul family grew, so did the family business, not unlike many others in Baltimore. Harold Graul’s four children each grew up and opened their own Graul’s market, one in Ruxton (where I visited today), one in Lutherville, one in Annapolis, one in Herford and one in Saint Michaels on the Eastern shore. The markets have grown to be popular and sought out destinations for gourmet and high-quality groceries and family traditions for shoppers as well as the Graul family. And just as the stores have become a Maryland tradition, their famous chicken salad has become a sensation as well.

Just my luck, Monday's do have something good about them: Monday's special at the deli is a chicken salad sandwich lunch. Graul’s chicken salad is a Graul family recipe, handed down through generations, and one of the best examples of fresh, home-made foods that Graul’s is famous for. Graul’s Market stores use that same recipe which includes their semi-secret ingredient: home-made mayonnaise. The sandwich comes on bread (I suggest the rye!) with a fresh and crunchy pickle and a bag of chips; grab a glass-bottled artisan soda (such as Boylan Bottling Company sodas) and you still come out under $7 for a gourmet lunch.

Graul’s is marketed (ha ha) at a more upper-middle and upper class clientele, as the foods and brands sold in the stores are a bit more pricey than mass-produced products at mega chain supermarkets. The stores are also located in typically wealthier neighborhoods, but the history of Graul’s is one of humble beginnings. Like Graul’s, Baltimore is an up-and-coming city; more “cosmopolitan” neighborhoods are “reclaimed” in the city every day as fashionable restaurants, bars and boutiques sprout up. But, regardless of how “hip” Baltimore becomes, it’s hard forgetting the city’s roots as a working-class, industrial town while walking down the street and seeing how “Power Plant Live” was actually a power plant, or knowing that crabs and oysters used to be given away for free before they were considered delicacies. The same thing applies to Graul’s market: even though you may be buying a $4 bottle of soda and a bag of gourmet potato chips, the friendliness, homey layout and design of the stores and pride in the chain’s mission on remaining a home-town, local, quality chain is very much reflective of the store’s working-class, family roots. The friendly cashier and beautiful boxed lunch put me in a much better mood and made me feel particularly productive on this rainy Monday.

Oh, and the chicken salad is phenomenal. I wonder what they put in that mayonnaise….

References:
http://www.graulsmarket.com/default.aspx

#95. Sip a Bloody Mary with an Old Bay rimmer and #40. Smith Island Cake

Okay, sometimes a girl has GOT to get away from it all.

     Between studying for the GRE, working on my SMP and working at PAP (Peace a Pizza) I am overwhelmed with acronyms and information most of the time. By Thursday afternoon, I was in serious need of relaxation in the form of dessert, some libations and a visit from my lovely boyfriend on the Eastern Shore again. Delicacies from the eastern side of the Chesapeake find their way into the city and experience a revival, becoming popular and well-known once more. This weekend I enjoyed a Bloody Mary, an old favorite recently rediscovered as cosmopolitan in Baltimore bars, and Smith Island Cake, a traditional Chesapeake Bay dessert that is now gracing the menus of Baltimore bakeries and restaurants.

     On this lazy Saturday morning Brendan and I decided that, since we would be fishing and swimming all day, we’d have a little cocktail with breakfast. Of the few acceptable A.M. drinks out there, the Bloody Mary was most appropriate drink for our surroundings. While sitting at the dining table overlooking the Wye river, watching crabbers pull in their early-morning trap lines, Brendan and I had a delicious breakfast followed by Bloody Marys with old Bay rimmers. No one really knows the origins of the Bloody Mary cocktail, but there are so many recipes out there that the drink is virtually customized for every city and state. The basics of the Bloody Mary are tomato juice, hot sauce, Worcestershire sauce and vodka; since tomatoes are a local summer crop and Old Bay is a statewide obsession, Maryland-style Bloody Mary’s are easy to find as well as easy (and cheap!) to make, using only the basic ingredients and coating the rim of a chilled glass with Old Bay. Brendan made ours beautifully and strong. The perfect start to a relaxing afternoon.

     After a day of fishing and reading poolside with my own personal bartender, I was ready for a relaxing dinner and some couch time. A distinctly Maryland dinner of crab soup we cut into a small Smith Island cake. While not the traditional flavors of yellow cake with fudge icing, the reverse-flavored chocolate cake with vanilla icing was moist, delicious and beautiful. Smith Island, where this particular type of cake comes from, is the only inhabited off-shore island in the Chesapeake Bay; the island was settled in the early 1600s by English settlers. The island can only be reached by a ferry and most of the islanders don’t even need to leave very often; the island is known for its strong community ties, especially within the Methodist church, as well as the way its residents earn their livelihood in the fishing industry. The island is also known for its peculiar language, resembling that of the Western parts of England and, last but not least, its cake.

     Traditional Smith Island cake is 5-15 layers of yellow cake frosted with chocolate fudge icing. Legend has it that fishermen’s wives would make cakes with thinner layers and fudge frosting that would not dry out during long trips harvesting oysters in cold winter months. Another local legend has it that the art of slicing thin layers of cake and stacking them high became a competition between local housewives. The cake is known as an everyday dessert, not particularly fancy or expensive and not reserved for holidays or special occasions. It was made the Maryland official state dessert in April of 2008 for its popularity and accessibility in many local bakeries, despite the long and slow journey to Smith Island for an original.

     While a weekend away and all the delicious things Brendan and I ate and drank may seem indulgent, expensive and reserved for special occasions, the truth is that a trip to the shore, Bloody Marys and Smith Island cake are all accessible, cheap and well-loved in the beautiful state of Maryland with just a 30 minute drive, a quick run into the liquor store and a trip to the local bakery. The simple things in life make me smile.

References:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bloody_Mary_(cocktail)

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Smith_Island,_Maryland

http://www.originalsmithislandcakeco.com/smith-island-history

http://www.smithislandbakingco.com/lore.html

#73. Raw beef and onion sandwich with raw yellow onion and salt and pepper on fresh rye bread

I am a true carnivore.

I love my steak rare; I like to tease my sister that I like it to “moo” on the plate. My meat loving is not restricted to steak though; chicken, pork, lamb, veal, ostrich, buffalo and any kind of fish all make me salivate. I even plan on trying gator meat when we take Maureen to college in Florida. One of the more unusual meat dishes I have a taste for is what I call “Steak Tartare a la Baltimore.”

And yes, it is what it sounds like to all the foodies out there.

“Tartare a la Baltimore” is ground round with chopped yellow onions mixed in, salted and peppered and served on dark rye or pumpernickel bread sandwich-style. My parents enjoyed and introduced this dish to me at my grandfather’s catering hall where this popular dish was served at almost every bull-roast, wedding and buffet they could remember. Despite the popularity this dish enjoyed years ago, its origins are a bit more vague.

My research leads me to Norway. Tartarmad is minced steak served with raw onion, a raw egg, salted and peppered and served on rich, dark rye bread. Similar, no? A similar German dish, by the name of Mett or Hackepeter, is minced pork with salt, pepper and onions served on rye rolls. The source of these dishes is traced back to the ethnic Tartars, the horse-riding inhabitants of central- and Siberian northern-Asia. These nomadic people were said to eat their meat raw because they were on the move so frequently, and legend has it they kept steak underneath their saddles where it became extremely tender and fell apart. The tradition continued to Russian medieval plates, where the egg was added to enhance the taste. The popularity of the dish spread from Russia to neighboring countries in northern Europe and voila, the rest is history.

So how did this dish come to Baltimore? Any frequent reader of my blog knows what I am about to say: immigrants. Danish and German immigrants came to the United States and introduced this dish to the people around them. A bull and oyster roast (a VERY Baltimore tradition and subject of a later blog) is very much like a Scandinavian Smörgåsbord, a large potluck or buffet with lots of alcohol involved. This is perhaps why so many Scandinavian foods are incorporated in a bull and oyster roast, such as sausages, sauerkraut, rye bread, and steak tartare, etc. Although steak tartare was a very popular dish in Baltimore (not so much now because of health concerns), it was and remains much more popular in areas heavily settled by Scandinavian immigrants such as Wisconsin, which boasts a large tourist attraction known as “Little Norway”. In fact, my hero, muse and aspiration Anthony Bourdain is eating steak tartare and cheddar in Milwaukee on the television in front of me as I type. This proves great minds think alike (and that he should hire me/make me his prodigy).  

The Baltimore version of steak tartare echoes the tradition of the dish’s past: a working-class comfort food, served at large get-togethers or in small kitchens. The dish is reminiscent of bull and oyster roasts, which bring to mind a working-class party with food and flowing alcohol. I always grew up watching my parents and grandfather eat it out of a metal bowl in the kitchen of the catering hall where they worked. It is easy and cheap enough to make: raw ground beef or steak seasoned with the simple salt and pepper combo, with minced yellow onions and a few slices of rye bread. For all you meat-eaters out there, I suggest you try it. Health concerns be damned. Make sure you’re eating quality fresh-ground chuck and you’ll be fine.  People have been eating this dish for centuries and I now understand why.

References:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Steak_tartare

http://homecooking.about.com/od/foodhistory/a/groundbeefhist.htm

http://www.mindspring.com/~cborgnaes/smrrbrd.html#Beef and Egg

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tatars

http://www.littlenorway.com/about-little-norway.html

http://www.wisconsinhistory.org/teachers/lessons/secondary/norwegian.asp

#2. Pick steamed hard shells at Mr. Bill's Terrace Inn in Essex (...or not.)

Alright. So I cheated a little bit.

I did not get the crabs I ate today at Mr. Bill’s in Essex. Although it is a Baltimore tradition (and, as I have heard from many, rightly so), on this Father’s Day we picked up our crabs from a real Eastern Shore waterman being as we were already on that side of the bay. However, Mr. Bill’s is a Baltimore favorite worthy of discussion and investigation into its identity as a local culinary and cultural favorite.

Essex, almost due east of Baltimore, lies off of Eastern Avenue and borders the northern shore of the Chesapeake Bay. It is a working class neighborhood that was hit particularly hard by the decline of the industrial boom in Baltimore, especially after a fire in 1957 destroyed an entire city block of business buildings. Mr. Bill’s Terrace reflects this working-class, old-fashioned Baltimore vibe. Its décor is fashionably outdated with Formica counters, old Baltimore sports memorabilia, leatherette booths and folding tables covered in brown paper.  Mr. Bill’s is also, apparently, quite famous to many Baltimore natives for its laid-back atmosphere and special spice blend that some say is a mixture of black pepper, cinnamon, rock salt and a touch of Old Bay seasoning.

Mr. Bills has built its reputation around being a working-class, extremely casual, local and very Baltimore crab house.

Crabs are also around $46/dozen at Bills. And I am a poor, poor college student. Although that’s about the average price nowadays for steamed Maryland blue crabs, I have easier means of obtaining some of our favorite deliciously crabby little friends. My family has a home on the Wye River, just about 6 miles from Kent Island and Chestertown, both meccas for Chesapeake Bay watermen. We were there for Father’s Day weekend, fishing off the pier, swimming in the pool, kayaking and just watching the lightning bugs. My father happens to be good friends with a genuine Eastern Shore watermen named William Ford, otherwise known as Captain Weasel. He is a 60-some jack of all trades, a relic of times past, an original waterman (Chestertown accent and all).

 “HEY BUDDY,” is his answer on the telephone every time my dad rings Captain Weeze, clearly audible from across our old red pickup truck. Captain Weasel crabs and uses the steamers at Harris’ Crab House on Kent Island, selling his locally trapped, hand sorted, freshly steamed crabs out of the back of the restaurant. My dad and I picked up a bushel of steamed number one males this morning for an undisclosed (but very cheap) price. Captain Weasel told me he steams with a very similar spice mixture used at Mr. Bills: rock salt, Old Bay and a dash of cinnamon; some vinegar is used in the water to steam the crabs. Each flavor is distinct in its own way. The mixture is not too spicy and had a touch of sweetness to it that you experienced in the aftertaste.

Picking crabs is also a uniquely working-class, Baltimore activity. Sure, at pricey restauraunts you may be able to get a few dozen crabs to pick, but there is nothing like laying newspaper or brown butchers paper down on a table (outside or inside) and pouring some hot steamed crabs right in the middle for everyone to pick, socialize and eat. Maybe throw in a few pitchers or bottles of beer and some potato chips and you've got a true Maryland summer celebration. Both Mr. Bill's Terrace and my kitchen table overlooking the Wye River had the same vibe. At Mr. Bills, you're picking crabs in a cheerfully crowded rastaurant. At my house, you are picking crabs and trying to yell over the noise of my many cousins, aunts and uncles running all over the house. Tomatoes, toe-mah-toes.

I know I definitely cheated and did not go to Mr. Bills, but in a way I had the same kind of experience you can find at the Terrace Restaurant: distinctly working class, nostalgic and local. I only had to go as far as making a trip to see my buddy Captain Weasel.

References:

http://www2.citypaper.com/eat/review.asp?rid=10543 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Essex,_Maryland

#98. Mary Sue Easter Eggs

I dream in chocolate.

No, seriously, I have dreams where I am sitting in a pile of chocolate just stuffing my face in a pseudo-Wonka fantasy, right out of the pages of R. Dahl sequel. Freud would have a field day, but it probably has something to do with the fact that I am trying to eat healthy. Despite all the sumptuous treats I devour and describe in this blog, I try to restrict most of my other meals to healthy options in order to maintain my rugby flanker physique. Working in a pizza shop doesn’t help either. I stare at the pizza slices while I eat my lunch of raw broccoli, grilled chicken, dices tomatoes and slices of avocado. But chocolate is what I fantasize about the most. Ever since Rheb’s candy, I’ve been thinking of another delicious Baltimore confection ever since. Mary Sue Easter Eggs. The melt-in-your-mouth chocolate shell, the creamy fillings of coconut, vanilla, peanut butter and chocolate… my heart breaks as I drink my v8 this morning thinking about it.

The Mary Sue Candy Company is replete with Baltimore culture and tradition. The company was founded in 1948 in the basement of a Southwest Baltimore rowhouse (similar to, and not far from the Rhebs) on South Smallwood Street. The founders of the company’s names were Samuel Spector and Harry Gerwig but the company was named after Gerwig’s daughters Mary and Sue (arguably much more sweet-sounding and appetizing than Spector and Gerwig Candies or Samuel and Harry Easter Eggs).

In the 1950’s, business was so good that Spector (the only founder still alive) opened a factory on South Caton Avenue and started producing copious amounts of candy, some even say 8 million eggs were sold one Easter season. Business was so good, Spector advertised on the radio with a jingle sung by none other than the young Baltimore Colt’s quarterback, Johnny Unitas.

“Here’s a treat that is sunny For your Easter bunny, The creamiest candy that’s made. Mary Sue Easter eggs, Mary Sue Easter eggs, Brighten you Easter parade.

We have those Easter eggs, Mary Sue Easter eggs, People are making the switch. Cause’ using pure butter Makes Mary Sue better, And you never had it so rich.

Mary Sue Easter eggs, They’re the best Easter eggs Honey your money can buy. So sweet and delicious, So rich and nutritious, Give Mary Sue Candies a try.

Brighten your Easter parade Try Mary Sue Candies Today!”

Even today, Mary Sue Candies prides itself on using tried and true candy recipes, traditional equipment such as copper pots, and keeping their candy cheap and accessible; although not as cheap as in Baltimore past, the eggs are usually still less than a dollar (which is more than can be said for the plain old Hershey bar. In fact, the giant ½ pound Mary Sue Easter egg only retails for about $4.00; the egg is so large and rich, it is almost equivalent to an entire Easter basket. Mr. Spector is long-gone, but Mary Sue (along with another Baltimore favorite, Naron candies) is now owned by Ruxton Chocolates, whose president is Bill Buppert. Although it seems like a cold, corporate takeover, Mr. Buppert has kept things very old-fashioned and prides himself on the originality the candy companies have maintained. He prides himself that the candies are all hand-made and unique products and that most of the employees have been making candy for many years. Fun fact, though, is that most of the employees are women because they supposedly have colder hands which are more capable of keeping the candy from melting. THAT is dedication to hand-made chocolate.

The combination of ever-low prices, old-fashioned flavors and techniques, a strong home-town tradition and a plethora of pop-culture symbology tied to Charm City (the iconic candy wrappers, the old jingles, the flowy and vintage “Mary Sue” that appears on each candy…) all are contributing factors as to why the candies are beloved in their hometown of Baltimore and shipped all over the world to enjoy.

After this short but very sweet blog entry, the candy craving is really starting to get to me. Too bad it’s way past Easter season…

Terms:

Symbology: the art of expressing language, culture and meaning through symbols

References:

http://www.marysue.com/index.html

http://welcometobaltimorehon.com/a-sweet-treat-for-easter

http://www.baltimorestyle.com/index.php/style/food_article/f_a_good_egg_ma09/

#39. Throw in a shrimp salad from Kibby's.

Is it bad that my first memory is in a restaurant?

Well, maybe not bad, but certainly expected of me. Interestingly enough though, that restaurant that my conscious life began in was Kibby’s Restaurant and Lounge on Wilkens Ave. in Baltimore.  I can remember clear as day, standing on the booth seat, looking out the window for Saint Agnes Hospital where my mom (and newly born sister) were; I was very confused as to why they weren’t there and I’m pretty sure I was annoying my grandfather by standing up on the table.

Kibby’s is located right across the street from where I was born, down the block from my grandfather’s house, Rheb’s candy, the Cardinal Gibbons High School (where my father and many other family members attended), Seton Keough High School (formerly Archbishop Keough, both schools the Alma Mater to many other female family members), a mile from my mom’s parents and just 3 miles from where I live now. In other words, it’s a familiar sight and someplace I take for granted driving past almost every day for many years. I don’t eat there very often, but my grandparents have always been regulars and my parents even had their rehearsal dinner there before their wedding, so they have fond memories as well.

Most people, though, know Kibby’s for their famous shrimp salad and hometown feel. Starting as a speak-easy during prohibition, Kibby’s Lucky Number 7 Night Club flourished as a neighborhood bar and restaurant off of Winchester Street in Edmonson. Later, Kibby’s started serving alcohol legally and opened as the Restaurant and Lounge in the current location on Wilkens Avenue in 1934. The shrimp salad, which has received several “Best of Baltimore” awards, is simply their house-steamed shrimp (vinegar and lots of Old Bay seasoning), peeled and tosses with Helman’s mayo and celery pieces. The salad needs no seasoning because the shrimp are steamed so perfectly. It is usually served on a soft, white Kaiser roll with a pickle spear on the side.

Using my grandfather as my primary informant, I asked him why Kibby’s was so popular and why the shrimp salad was so good. He told me, “They give you free cheese.” Although a little… abstract (and typical of my Pop)… this comment sums up Kibby’s perfectly. Let me explain. As my grandfather went on, he told me he always knew most of the wait staff and the bartender, and always ran into someone he knew at the restaurant. He likes the menu because it has familiar favorites, nothing too fancy but real Baltimore comfort food, like crab fluffs, hot roast beef and gravy, oyster sandwiches, steak and sour beef and dumplings. Although informal and very blue-collar, Kibby’s is a neighborhood joint with consistently delicious food and famous shrimp salad with a deceivingly simple recipe (see the Recipes section!). Oh, and they serve a (free) ball of port wine cheese and crackers on the table to munch on as soon as you arrive; unique, old school and delicious, just like the restaurant itself.



Locals playing "cornhole" in the dining room



Kibby’s is authentically Baltimore purely because it has been around so long; opened for almost eight decades (legally), it has become a Baltimore institution because of its well-made, familiar and home style dishes with local ingredients and cultural influences (Greek-style sour beef and dumplings, pasta dishes, kielbasa and sauerkraut…) that ensure there is something for everyone on the menu. The low prices and location make the restaurant accessible to almost everyone, especially the blue-collar and working-class residents of the surrounding neighborhoods. Last but certainly not least is the fact that Kibby’s is a big part of the local culture; holiday parties, Ravens Roost meetings and game-days, weekly specials and family dinners are frequent events. Regular customers are a huge part of Kibby’s business and locals are a constant presence, giving the restaurant that local, hole-in-the-wall flavor.

The outside of Kibby’s (and the inside, for that matter) are nothing special; in fact, the place is kind of a hole in the wall. But, like the shrimp salad, delicious things are sometimes the most simple, wrapped in tin foil and Styrofoam. My mom, who has been going to Kibby’s for years, picked up a few shrimp salad sandwiches (the small ones, the large can feed 3 people) while I was out running errands with dad. Walking out into the rain, she ran into an old friend and gave him a ride home down the street. Typical of Kibby’s, you can’t walk in without seeing someone you know and eating something familiar.

Terms:

primary informant: member of a culture or someone met in the field of study from whom the researcher gains firsthand knowledge of the culture/area from

References:

http://www.examiner.com/restaurant-in-baltimore/old-school-homemade-dinner-baltimore-at-kibby-s-across-from-st-agnes-hospital
http://www.kibbysrestaurant.net/index.htm
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Kibbys-Restaurant-and-Lounge/54787631098

Recipes:

-steam shrimp salad with water, vinegar and liberal amounts of Old Bay until done
-peel, de-vein and cool
-add Helman's mayonnaise to taste and diced celery

#69. Gravy fries

Gravy fries, like many other diner foods, have questionable origins.

Seen in the movie “Diner,” set in Baltimore, french fries and gravy appear in a Fells Point diner; they also make frequent appearances on menu’s in deli’s, sub shops and diners all around the city. Gravy fries are usually crispy, thick cut fries (either crinkle-cut or steak-cut) served with a heaping helping of hot, thick beef gravy poured on top. The fries stay slightly crispy, with the parts covered in gravy soft and soggy in a good way. In my opinion, the best time of year to eat this hot, savory dish is in the dead of winter with an open-faced, hot roast-beef sandwich on the same plate.

 All in all, french fries with gravy (like their cousin, cheese fries) is a primarily working class food. French fries have always been a working class food, but they are beloved by all walks of life. The “french” in french fries refer to the process of deep-frying rather than the particular cut of the potatoes. These deep fried potato slices are said to have originated by poor fishermen in Netherlands, where potatoes were deep fried alongside fish or instead of fish when rivers froze over. The fried potatoes came to Belgium where peasants, who had access to potatoes as a cheap and home-grown food source, would deep fry them with salt. The french fry craze spread throughout Europe as a cheap, lower-class, fast food; in England they were referred to as “chips” and served with fried fish wrapped in newspapers. Post World War II, french fries became widely popular in the United States, popularized by fast-food chains like McDonalds. Gravy, like french fries, is a primarily working-class or lower class food. Made from juices left over from cooking meat (or vegetables, in some cases) mixed with flour to thicken it, gravy is an example of how no food went to waste amongst poorer families.

So who put french fries and gravy together? Well, no one really knows. It would be lying to say they are a purely “Baltimore thing.” But in Quebec, formerly part of French-Canada, is home to a famous dish called Poutin: french fries served with cheese curds and gravy. This dish is known as a blue-collar or lower-class dish in the area. Poutin and gravy fries are both popular dishes in the Northeast United States, and gravy goes on many, many things in the Southeast United States. My guess is that Baltimore, which (as I have said many, many times before) is a blue-collar town, acquired gravy fries from influences both above and below: Poutin and the general idea of gravy on french fries from up north and gravy on anything from down south.

Regardless of where gravy fries really come from, they are a delicious, simple and familiar food. And after a long, cloudy day of working and running errands, gravy fries were the perfect comfort food.

References:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Poutine#Origins

#64. Pit beef from anywhere without a door, followed by #5. Snack on a Berger cookie.

I grew up on pit beef and Berger cookies.

My grandfather, Joseph Dennis Grace, owned Town & Country Caterers for over 50 years. My earliest childhood memories is sitting on the kitchen counter with slices of roast beef, maraschino cherries and a Berger cookie on a paper plate watching my parents cater bull and oyster roasts with my grandfather; and let me tell you, I am spoiled now because of it. I remember watching my grandfather and his brothers Jerome and John dry rub rounds of beef with dry mustard, pepper, salt and oregano, rosemary and thyme and slow cook them on spits outside “the Hall” occasionally spraying them with red wine vinegar. I always took for granted that everyone knew what bull and oyster roasts were and that the only way to eat pit beef was on a Kaiser roll with raw white onions and horseradish sauce. I also took for granted that they HAD to have Berger cookies all over the world, because they were coveted in lunchboxes and kitchens almost everywhere I turned.

As I grew older and ventured outside of the Baltimore bubble, I began to realize that these things were just not true. There were no Berger cookies on the west coast (or UTZ for that matter…) and my friends from up north did not know what real pit-beef was, let  alone that it usually came from an outdoor location.

I have learned that pit beef is actually a traditional Baltimore delicacy, with recipes popping up all over the internet for “Baltimore Pit Beef.” Apparently, Baltimore pit beef is the top- or bottom-round cut of beef, dry rubbed and slowly cooked over an open flame, usually cooked rare or medium rare. The tradition of pit beef supposedly comes from working class neighborhoods in east Baltimore, such as Rosedale and Essex. The round cuts of beef are inexpensive and become tough when overcooked or dry, so pit beef was the perfect solution to a delicious steak dinner for less. Bull and oyster roasts were also an easy, cheap and local solution to a large celebration.

Now, onto Berger cookies. Those delicious but sinfully caloric Baltimore confections.

In 1835, brothers George and Henry Berger immigrated to Baltimore from Germany. Henry Berger, a baker, settled into East Baltimore and opened a bakery; eventually, he had three sons, two of whom (Otto and George) opened their own bakeries while Henry the younger took over their fathers. Now back then, most food was purchased in “open air markets” and the public markets in Baltimore. All three brothers kept stalls in these markets and their name became quite popular in the baking business, especially with one of their products: a vanilla wafer cookie topped with chocolate fudge. Eventually, the brothers combined the bakeries under a single name in the late 1800’s.

When the Berger brothers eventually grew old and passed away, the remaining brother George sold the bakery to Charles E. Russell and his family. Charles Russell Jr., the current owner, still makes sure the bakery uses the same recipes and ingredients as in the 19^th century when the bakery first started producing Berger cookies.

Berger cookies and pit-beef, like a lot of other Baltimore institutions I have written about, have blue-collar origins and/or is a product of immigration to Baltimore. Although it is repetitive, it does present a theme: Baltimore is a working-class, melting pot city. Many food items Baltimoreans know and enjoy come from this immigrant, working-class background, even if they are sometimes dressed up and presented as a high-class culinary confection (take fried soft-crabs for example). Many of these foods were marketed or eaten out of necessity or enjoyed in lieu of more expensive things by people with little means (see snowballs, first entry). The accessibility of these foods to the lower-, working- and middle classes made these foods popular and well known, eventually leading to them becoming cultural delicacies in our beautiful city and elsewhere. Pit beef was even an institution in my family; my grandfather made his living off of it and eventually became very well-known in the area for his simple but delicious food. My family is still in the restaurant business and no one forgets that we had our roots in plain old, working class, southwest Baltimore culture. All I know is that there aren’t many ways to dress up pit-beef or Berger cookies, but I like it like that. Plain, simple, and oh-so-Baltimore, hon.

References:

 http://www.cookscountry.com/pwlogin.asp?did=28930&area=recipe&iseason=

http://bergercookies.com/

http://www.nytimes.com/2000/06/28/dining/how-to-say-barbecue-in-baltimore.html

Today, while running around Arbutus getting all hot and sweaty, I got a whiff of pit-beef cooking and instantly I had to have it. I loaded up my sister, brother and cousin Annie in the car and drove to a small but well-known red trailer parked on the side of Rt. 1 by the Home Depot. Two women (with distinct Baltimore accents I might add) took down our order for 2 pit-beef and 2 barbeque beef sandwiches. Almost immediately 4 hot, tinfoil wrapped packages were handed to us. Attached to the trailer is a little condiment table. I loaded my sandwich up with raw white onions, salt, pepper and spicy horseradish sauce, just like my grandfather does. On the way home, Maureen (trying to redeem herself for previous blog failings) ran into 7-11 for some Berger cookies, because who can have that delicious beef without some dessert? On her part, it was a good move. In the June heat, they were slightly gooey and a delicious compliment to the rich, rare, flavorful beef on (naturally) a fresh white Kaiser roll. What a perfect summer lunch.