#13 & #63. Corned beef on rye and a bologna-wrapped hotdog at Attman's.

My family loves to eat; it must be genetic.

So naturally many of my family members are big supporters of my blog. My cousin Nick, however, is a huge foodie much like myself and has been dying to join me on some of my adventures. Much to my pleasant surprise, he texted me at work today asking if we could go to Attman’s Deli with his lovely girlfriend Taylor (who navigated us there easily and by heart). Needless to say, I responded with a yes and right after I got off of work.

Attman’s Delicatessen on Lombard Street is (ironically) famous for being a little piece of New York in Baltimore. In fact, the sign says “New York Delicatessen.” The Deli is also famous for its Jewish-American food, such as potato knishes, kugle, and fresh kosher dill pickles. This is because the owning family, the Attman’s, are Jewish. Established in 1915 by Harry Attman, Attman's has earned its reputation for some of the best and most authentic corned beef in Baltimore, even being on “Corned Beef Row,” a very unique Baltimore landmark. “Corned Beef Row” is a few blocks of Lombard Street east of Little Italy and Presidents Street; Attman’s is always in competition with Lenny’s Deli and Weiss Deli, two other Jewish-owned, New York-style delicatessens. The reason Attman’s has remained so popular is because of their delicious, unchanging, inexpensive food and restaurant. The owning family is the same, the recipes are the same and by the looks of it the décor, lights, tables and signs are all the same as they have been for over 50 years. My father and grandfather can vouch for that: my dad remembers riding on the back of my grandfather’s horse (he was a Baltimore City Mounted Police Officer) to Attman’s in the 1960’s, which he says looked just as old when he was a kid.

When we got there at 3pm, which I assumed would be off-hours, the line was still to the back of the deli. It was so loud with the sounds of yelling, chatting and chopping that I had to yell over the tall counter that I wanted one corned beef on rye (no mustard), one hot pastrami on rye, two green dill pickles (green meaning freshly pickled) and five spicy red cherry peppers. Waiting for my food, I watched the staff fight and point knives at each other, in a range of accents ranging from inner-city, jewish-American, Italian and middle-eastern. I was absolutely fascinated that it really did seem like I had walked off the streets of Baltimore into a deli in the heart of New York City. I got my food, sat down in the dilapidated dining room adorned with old pictures, signs and paintings and experienced the most delicious pastrami south of New York. Attman’s also happens to be famous for their bologna-wrapped hotdog, a giant kosher beef dog wrapped in fried beef bologna with mustard and onions. Lucky for me, Nick ordered this strangely delicious food (which I remember my mom craving while pregnant with my sister) and saved me oh, a few thousand calories and being a beach ball for the rest of the day.

Although Attman’s food is not authentic to Baltimore, let alone Maryland, the way that the deli has been ingrained into the local culture has made it part of Baltimore, the living, breathing, melting-pot city made by immigrants and outsiders. The food is delicious, cheap and unpretentious, making the deli appealing to almost everyone on this middle-class city. Even those working behind the counter are the epitome of the city: a screaming, multicultural, slightly violent, bustling mess that somehow produces delicious food worthy of lines out the door.

References:

http://www.citypeek.com/baltimore/restaurant/attmans-delicatessen
http://baltimore.about.com/od/fooddrink/tp/cornedbeefrow.htm
http://www.attmansdeli.com/history.php

#72. OTTERBEIN'S COOKIES!!!!!!!!!!!

My boyfriend calls me a “lactard.”

This is in reference to my unfortunate lactose intolerance. Go figure though; lately I have been suffering through my new obsession with whole milk. And what better to go with whole milk than cookies? Specifically Otterbein’s Cookies. Otterbein’s Cookies are made in a bakery in Baltimore and I decided that they probably some of the best mass-produced cookies I have ever had before this blog was even thought of. The cookies are ultra-thin, light, extremely flavorful and pleasingly crunchy; each cookie is cut into a small triangle, circle, heart and gingerbread man shape making you feel like a little kid again.

Otterbein’s is a longtime Baltimore bakery tradition. The familiar cookies in the red and white-checked bag started churning out in 1881 when Adam Otterbein, a recent immigrant from Germany, opened a bakery near Fort McHenry. His German confections were popular but his sugar cookies quickly became his best seller. The cookies, thin and cut by hand, were a fast sellout and became well known throughout the city.

The business stayed in the family and, eventually, moved from Fort McHenry to Northeast Baltimore in the late 1950’s. Despite the change, the high demand for the sugar cookies did not change one bit. In 1996 Adam Otterbein’s great grandson Mark began producing the cookies wholesale and adding different varieties (such as gingerbread, lemon, oatmeal raisins and chocolate chip) as well as allowing bags of the cookies to be sold at grocery stores throughout the area. The cookies are relatively low priced, local and a family tradition which only adds to the appeal of the cookies and their reputation as top-sellers.

These cookies are another wonderful contribution of working-class immigrants, specifically German immigrants, to the city of Baltimore. Although the taste, texture, look and bag of Otterbein’s cookies have become a part with Baltimore food culture, their history as a home-style German recipe should not be forgotten.

References:

http://www.otterbeinsbakery.com/history/

#61. How about the fried green pepper rings at Gunnings?

It’s been kind of a hectic week.

While I originally intended to write this blog Thursday night, our electricity went out and I have been playing catch up on some chores that require the gift of our good friend Thomas Edison. Now that I have some time to sit and reflect on Thursday evening, I can also ask myself “What were you thinking??”

My dinner on Thursday evening was completely deep-fried. Battered deep-fried, green bell pepper rings dusted in powdered sugar and a battered deep fried crab cake served with deep fried fries. The explanation? Gunning’s Seafood. I’ve always known about Gunning’s; it is somewhat of a family tradition, being my grandfather’s favorite restaurant and a place where my mom worked for a few years when she was younger. Jumping at the opportunity to re-visit and eat some of her childhood favorites, my mom decided to treat me to some dinner. It was a perfect rainy day to go out for a late dinner and we got to hang out one-on-one, which is rare having two younger siblings.

Gunning’s was first opened in 1969 as a blue-collar bar by Andrew E. Gunning in South Baltimore on Hanover Street. In 1970, Andrew’s son Edward started bringing in bushels of steamed crabs and selling them for $9/dozen. Obviously, Gunning’s (now Gunning’s Crab House) became even more popular because of its inexpensive crabs and local neighborhood feel. As the crab house grew, it evolved into a restaurant and started including even more of the Gunnings family: Ed’s mother-in-law started working in the kitchen and introducing family recipes like pepper rings and crab fluffs to restaurant patrons. The continuing reputation for low prices and authentic Baltimore neighborhood feel made the restaurant popular to both locals and tourists, helping the restaurant to grow even more. The authenticity of the restaurant was (and still is) a huge draw to anyone because of the simple, Baltimore cuisine served at Gunning’s and the restaurant’s origins. Because of the public clamor for this popular, authentic Baltimore experience, a second restaurant was opened in Ocean City and thrived until a fire caused the family to close its doors. Regardless, Gunning’s retained its popularity and moved to a larger location in Hanover, Maryland about 15 minutes outside of the city, allowing the restaurant to stay local and service even more customers as well as maintain its cultural identity as a cheap, local family restaurant.

The restaurant menu has changed very little since the 1970’s; Gunning’s is now run by Ed Gunning, Jr. (Ed Senior’s grandson) and the family recipes that made the restaurant popular are still closely guarded and taste the exact same. My mother, who worked in the kitchen at Gunning’s, told me that all the batter, desserts and spices are pre-made and mixed to prevent anyone outside of the family from knowing what makes them so unique and delicious.

While I shudder now, Thursday night was definitely delicious and well worth the extra calories. Hanging out with my mom and using her as a primary informant (….I mean listening to her tell me old stories…) was a cool experience that showed me culture can be found in the lives of my own parents as well as in a deep-fryer.

References:

http://www.gunningsonline.com/maryland_seafood_crabs/baltimores_best_crab_houses_steamed_crabs.php

Terms:

Primary informant: main source of inside information about a particular culture

#24. Polish sausage from one of the two Ostrowski shops.

Most of my childhood memories revolve around food.

A smell, a taste or the sight of a familiar dish can bring me back to hundreds of specific memories from when I was little. I have learned to accept this as I embrace my inner fat-kid. One of those memory-filled foods is sauerkraut and kielbasa. My grandmother lived in the southwest district of Baltimore city in a neighborhood of polish and Italian families which was reflected in her cooking style. One of her most frequently made and most popular was Polish sausage cooked in sauerkraut, fermented cabbage with a tangy, sour taste.

On the southeast side of the city, though, is where you can find the most authentic Polish sausage in town. Actually, there are two stores in southeast Baltimore to find authentic Polish sausage. Two competing Polish sausage stores compete for the title of most authentic and most delicious in Baltimore. Both stores have similar histories: started by Polish immigrants years ago (Ostrowski’s on Bank Street for 34 years and Ostrowski’s on Washington Street for 90), both have become Baltimore traditions, both Polish and non-Polish, for years, sometimes becoming mistaken for one another. This is easily done, considering both stores have reputations for selling delicious and inexpensive authentic Polish delicacies.

Although the Ostrowski’s on Washington Street was voted “Best in Baltimore,” their products are relatively inaccessible to anyone who does not have the time nor the patience to drive to Fells Point (i.e. me…). However, the other Ostrowski’s (of Bank Street, only a few blocks away) sells their products at multiple grocery stores and butchers stores around the Baltimore metropolitan area. Accessibility is the key to spreading culture and in that aspect Ostrowski’s of Bank Street is beating Ostrowki’s of Washington Street. I happened to figure out that these sausages were sold at a nearby butcher, Trueth and Sons, in Oella, Maryland (which is another Baltimore story altogether), for $2.89/lb on Mondays. So, in the true spirit of an impoverished foodie, I made my way to Trueth’s and picked up 8 giant Polish sausages, half spicy and half sweet/mild, for less than $6. Just the scent of the sausages in the bag brought me back to summer nights on Gebb Avenue in my Grandma’s house, minue the sauerkraut. The memory became almost as overpowering as the smell and I asked my mom to pick me up some sauerkraut on the way home. I grilled the sausages, cooked the sauerkraut and loaded some on a plate with some potato salad for dinner.

As I ate, I thought about the Baltimore families who had probably had this meal countless times throughout the years; it’s a cheap, easy to make comfort food, familiar to everyone and a piece of home for those with Polish heritage. I may not be Polish, but the meal was definitely a piece of home for me as well. Next time I get the hankering for some kielbasa and sauerkraut, I’m going to call my Grandma.

References:

http://www.ostrowskiofbankstreetsausage.com/

http://ostrowskifamous.homestead.com/Storefront.html

http://polishplate.com/stores/ostrowskis-polish-sausage,583.html

http://www2.citypaper.com/eat/review.asp?rid=9894

#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