An Introduction to New York Style Barbecue

Given the diversity of the New York food scene, one of its great mysteries is why certain regional or ethnic cuisines struggle to take root.

At any time of day, there are at least two programs about Barbecue competitions somewhere on basic cable. It is now a national tradition, yet New York struggles to come up with a credible joint.

There are many places in the five boroughs that offer southern comfort food. There aren't any good ones. The one exception is Blue Smoke, however, it's too upscale to count as traditional. It's a good restaurant, with a nice selection of bourbon. However, this discussion only pertains to places where you wouldn't take clients.

There are two factors which restrict the growth of barbecue in New York:

1) The ignorance of the local market. The historic lack of barbecue makes it hard for locals to distinguish good from bad. With nothing else to go on, New Yorkers gravitate towards cartoon pigs and hubcaps on the walls.

2) Space and zoning. Proper barbecue restaurants are difficult to introduce in dense urban areas. Whatever slow-smoking device used needs a proper flue, which can be tricky. Also, such restaurants require steady source of hardwood, and space to keep it.

In response, New York has developed its own take on barbecue. This style was created by three local chains, Dallas BBQ, Dinosaur BBQ, and Brother Jimmy's.

When it comes to smoked meat, all three are below average. Pork shoulder, ribs, brisket, and chicken are all served dry, slightly greasy, and under seasoned. Portions are small, expensive, and served with equally lifeless sides.

In traditional southern terms, they are terrible. But to write them off on these grounds is to miss the point. New York style barbecue isn't about barbecue.

The crown jewels of New York barbecue are alcoholic beverages, served as a slush or punch in a lucite goblet with a little umbrella in it. House specials are often named after natural disasters. In New York barbecue, the food is just there to soak up the booze.

In terms of design, these restaurants are meant to satisfy Upper West Side preconceptions of what West Virginia must be like. In a phrase, it's 'Cracker Barrel chic.' This means rusty farm implements and concert bills for old country music stars. In this regard, New York barbecue restaurants were trendsetting. They picked up on the dilapidated barn aesthetic well before anyone in Brooklyn got the idea.

New York style barbecue may not match up with the best America has to offer. But after a fourth Hurricane Sandy Shandy, who cares?

We Do Live in a Golden Age (with Colorful Filling)...

Is Rock and Roll still relevant and viable?

Usually this question is only asked as a jump off to ramble on the decay of American pop culture. It's become the 'back in my day...' speech for younger Baby Boomers and older Gen X'ers.

Talking points include:

-Nostalgic references to bands that were never actually relevant or viable (e.g. The Velvet Underground. That's right Lou Reed, here's the eulogy you always wanted, you overrated poser. I know you'll rest in peace. The grave is a great place to have no real ideas).

-Insinuations that Ariana Grande is responsible for growing belligerence in the Pacific Rim. Yes, we'd all have one less problem without Kim Jong Un, but let's not connect dots that aren't there.

-Vague explanations as to how The Twitter has undermined the character of American youth, aka 'the kids today...' sub-speech.

But getting back to the original question, is Rock and Roll a 21st Century music form?

Yes! The problem is not the music, but the musicians. Since the early 2000's rock has been in a talent drought.

Don't worry, these things happen. Rock and Roll itself emerged partly due to stagnation. By the mid-1950's, two major wars had either killed or derailed the young talent which fed traditional pop. Rather than developing fresh new acts, the music establishment was running on the fumes of Bing Crosby, Cole Porter, and whichever big bands could still scrounge bus fare to Des Moines. The time ripe for hungry young men with a raw, homespun sound.

For whatever reason -and I still haven't heard a good one- we just don't have great rock bands right now. There are several good ones, but none that add up to more than the sum of their influences. For example, Mastodon is very good metal band, but what do they do that wasn't being done 25 years ago? Joe Bonamassa is one of the strongest guitarists of his generation, but as long as his best material is classic rock covers, he won't make the transcendent impact of players like Clapton, Hendrix, et al. Rock doesn't lack a future so much as a way forward.

This brings up the next question: If America's best creative minds aren't making good rock music, what are they up to?

That answer: They're making cookies.

Today was the first time I realized how many more types of Oreos we have today as opposed to ten or even five years ago. Once upon a time, Halloween Oreos were a big deal. Today at the grocery story, I saw seasonal Limeade Oreos.

Limeade isn't even listed on the Oreo website. But Lemon is. So is Berry, Chocolate, Chocolate with Vanilla Cookies, Peanut Butter, Marshmallow Crispy, and... COOKIE DOUGH!

At the end of the day, there's no crisis at all. Rock music lacks creative vision right now, but the difference has been made up in the Nabisco labs.        

Remembering Tom Watson... The 2009 Open Championship; 5 Years Later

Five years ago, a 59 year-old Tom Watson nearly won a 6th Open Championship. Needing a par on the 72nd hole for the win, he bogeyed. One four-hole playoff later, Stewart Cink was the 2009 Champion Golfer of the Year.

I was crushed.

Tom Watson is one of the 15 greatest players of all time. He made his bones as Jack Nicklaus' greatest post-Kennedy Administration rival. He dominated the Open like no one since Harry Vardon.

Stewart Cink is a talented player and a worthy major champion. In 14 years between turning pro and winning the Open, he defined Very Good. He won 6 PGA Tour events and recorded a Top-5 finish in every major.

He also built a strong candidacy for World's Least Interesting Man.

Cink is the sort of boring, clean-cut southerner who has long filled out the PGA Tour's middle and lower classes. His is the consistent, conservative, uninspired game that golf instructors love.

I wasn't upset that Tom Watson lost. I just would have preferred he lose to another great player, an out-of-nowhere journeyman, Angel Cabrera, or any other opponent who makes for an interesting narrative. The disappointment came watching the tournament be won by someone so uncompelling.

The same year as Watson's Last Stand saw the publication of Mark Frost's The Match. It recounts a 1956 four-ball match in which up-and-coming amateurs Harvie Ward and Ken Venturi took on the aging professional team of Byron Nelson and Ben Hogan as part of a bet arranged at of Bing Crosby's infamous Clambakes. Though only a friendly game, Frost portrays it as a bellwether event in golf history.

The match was close throughout, but the cagey old pros won in the end. As Frost points out, never again would the gap between the best amateurs and professionals be so close. Golf at its highest level was no longer a game of leisure.

At the time, I thought the 2009 Open was a similar end of an era. With Tiger Woods declining fast, the future of professional golf was murky. Phil Mickelson, Ernie Els, and Vijay Singh -golf's last great shotmakers- were aging fast. In a decade on Tour, Sergio Garcia had gone from golf's most exciting talent to a player defined by failure. Despite the buzz around some kid named McIlroy, I assumed he would follow suit.

Turnberry seemed to be a Culloden moment (Smugly dropping references to Olde Scotland is as time honored a tradition as the Open itself).  The bland, consistent, Scottsdale Standard game had won out over the expressive brilliance of Tom Watson. It seemed nothing interesting could fill Tiger's monolithic void.

Five years later, I'm pleased to say I was wrong. Els and Mickelson have captured the past two Open Championships. McIlroy followed a meltdown at the 2011 Masters by shooting the lowest aggregate score in U.S. Open history two months later. Bubba Watson has developed into the player John Daly once could have been. Even Martin Kaymer has reimagined the TPC style of play with his own Teutonic twist.

Hindsight reveals that the 2009 Open was no historic inflection point. Rather, it was the crowning achievement of a deserving professional, and one more story to tell the Watson grandchildren. Following golf is no longer as easy as watching Tiger kick everyone's ass, but that's not a bad thing.

Picking Up the Crumbs of Crumbs

The Wall Street Journal today reported there may be investors interested in resurrecting Crumbs, a chain of cupcake bakeries which ceased retail operations earlier this week.

This makes sense. At this point Crumbs is a good value on paper. One could reason the company's biggest problem was over-expansion. Founded as a single location in 2003, within a decade it had grown to a chain of 79 stores. By 2011, is was listed on the NASDAQ. The cash intensive nature of expansion, coupled with the decline of the cupcake industry are what initiated the financial death spiral.

However, Crumbs had a more fundamental problem. Their cupcakes were lousy.

By volume, a Crumbs cupcake was about half frosting. This made for an unwieldy cupcake that defeated the point of the medium. On top of that, the frosting had no flavor. Though visually exotic, Crumbs cupcakes all featured this same insipid, sickly sweet frosting piled on a dry, flavorless cupcake. Factor in the $3-4 price for a single cupcake, and it's no wonder the novelty faded.

Crumbs may still become a useful investment. For the right price, it makes sense to buy the company and strip it to the bone. However, Crumbs is worthless as a bakery.