Filed under Food and Drink …

Oct 26 2011
7 Comments
Food and Drink, Pittsburgh, Social Media

22. meat.

Last Wednesday, we headed over to Scarehouse for the second-annual Crazy Scary VIP night, otherwise known as our best chance to hassle Michelle and Ginny on the one night a year when they can’t do anything about it.

Crazy Scary treated me very well last year — and it would do so again in 2011. But we’ll get to that in a minute.

We got to go through the haunt again, and it was even better than last year. The post-apocalyptic final section — definitely the creepiest for me a year ago — was replaced, but with something that was even better: A zombie-overrun Pittsburgh, with all kinds of local touches, like a Primanti’s-esque diner and one of the t-shirt stands on Penn in the Strip. I missed one crucial detail: Dudders, also known as the tallest zombie in Pittsburgh, who did her best to scare us towards the end of the haunt.

We didn’t have the same chance to torture Michelle and Ginny as we did last year, but they both got up close and personal with one of the Scarehouse’s zombies; that was scarier for Ginny than it was for Michelle — at least until the zombie hugged our favorite non-hugger.

Other good stuff:

  • We went through the haunt with Gina and Andy (hint: foreshadowing). If you want to laugh as much as you scream while you go through a haunted house, you’ll go through with Gina.
  • We had great food from Las Velas, but the baking orgy conducted by Mindy in advance of Crazy Scary was truly outstanding. Say it with me: Ancho-chili chocolate cupcakes.
  • Watching Scott Harbaugh eat squid chips was pretty funny.
  • We were part of an effort that raised $6,000 for Make Room for Kids and Christmas Crazy. Six. Thousand. Dollars.

And yes, there were prizes again this year. We bought raffle tickets, picked out a bunch of stuff we thought would be cool and went to town with our tickets.

And to our surprise, we did well. We won Andy’s Big Box of Meat for the second year in a row, and we also made off with Gina’s Pittsburgh basket, filled with stuff that will mostly end up on Mrs. Crappy’s desk. We were thrilled with both.

And there was one truly scary thing about this year’s Crazy Scary night. As we said goodnight to everyone we stopped to talk to Michelle.

Who was drunk or something.

Because she hugged me.

Parallel universe! Entered the Matrix! WHAT HAPPENED? AAAAHHHHHH!

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Oct 11 2011
1 Comment
Elsewhere, Food and Drink, Home, Ohio, Pittsburgh, Social Media

11. happy…

I had the pleasure of spending Birthday Eve at Bocktown Monaca with Chris and John. We hadn’t really set out to do a birthday kind of anything; rather, we had tried to find an occasion to open this:

That’s a 2009 Dark Lord from Three Floyds. Chris mentioned offhand a while back that she had a b0ttle and said she’d be happy to share it with me when the time was right. There have been a couple chance when we could have cracked it, but in the end, we came up with this — at some point after the B2 hoopla had calmed a bit, it would be a nice way to mark the occasion. The fact that that moment came the night before my birthday was a nice bonus.

Chris bought dinner. The appetizers — mussels with andouille on one hand, grilled scallops with a kiwi salsa on the other — were delicious. The Bocktown burger was sloppy and spectacular — just as I like it.

But the beer — and the fact that we shared not only the Dark Lord but also a bottle of Three Floyds’ Arctic Panzer Wolf and a beautiful home-brewed saison — made the night. I am so grateful to have friends who would not just think of me when they come across a special bottle but also wait nearly two full years to open it up.

I say this a lot: I have the best friends anyone could have. I can’t imagine what my life would be without them.

Or without you.

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Aug 22 2011
7 Comments
Food and Drink, Pittsburgh, Social Media

crappy pineappy.

There were like three people taking my picture all at once and I wasn't sure which way to look. Which is how I ended up with the odd expression on my face.

I don’t think I could have come up with a dumber name for my entry at last weekend’s Sangria Fest in North Park. Fortunately, I also don’t think I could have come up with a better white sangria for the party — and I’m especially fortunate that the judges thought it was pretty good too.

Click on this pic of the lovely Mrs. Crappy trying to get every last bit of a sangria jello shot, and you'll be magically transported to the Flickr set of my Sangria Fest photos.

It was good enough to net me a plastic trophy; more importantly, it was good enough that a bunch of you asked me how I made it. Here you go:

The hard part.

This was the inspiration for my sangria, and while it’s not actually all that hard, it does take a little time.

Many years ago, a friend of mine in Columbus turned me on to a great summertime tradition — filling a jug with vodka and pineapple chunks, letting it stew in the fridge for a while and occasionally pouring some over ice to help with summertime relaxation efforts.

I’ve done it a few times, and I’ve found that I like rum in place of the vodka even better. And when we heard about Sangria Fest, I knew this would be the key to whatever it was I was going to make.

Again — a difficulty factor of about 2:  Core and cut up a pineapple, dump the chunks in a good-sized jug or a jar and pour on the rum — I used Bacardi white — until the pineapple is covered. Don’t touch it for a couple days; after that, if you take a sample or two, be sure to add just enough additional rum to make sure the pineapple stays covered.

I think this is important: the rum I used for the sangria soaked with the pineapple for about a month. You could use pineapple-flavored rum, but you’re going to miss the sweet that you get with the little pieces of pineapple floating in the home-infused stuff.

The rest.

The basic proportions for my recipe came from here, but there’s a bunch of stuff I tweaked. Here’s how it went:

  • I used a bottle of Barefoot Pinot Grigio (cheap but flavorful).
  • I used the juice of two oranges (Valencias, specifically) and two lemons, instead of the singles called for in the recipe. Also, I used the juice only — the rinds never made it into the pitcher.
  • I cored and chopped another fresh pineapple and put all the chunks in the pitcher. I could have used the pineapple from the rum, but after a month, they were really boozy, and that would have taken away from the flavor I was looking for.
  • I made my test batch without the coconut rum, and it wasn’t as good; I think you really need that extra flavor in the background. Probably important: I used low-test (20 proof) coconut rum; I wanted flavor, not alcohol heat.
  • I used way more booze that the recipe calls for. The nice folks at about.com seem to think three shots of coconut rum is enough; I went with a little more than a cup of coconut rum and a little more than a cup of the pineapple infused rum.
  • I used absolutely no sugar. The pineapple rum and the orange juice is sweet enough. If you let the citrus rinds soak in the sangria, a little extra sweetener might be necessary, though.
  • To be honest, I’m not sure how much ginger ale I added. Pour until you can barely taste it.
  • Stir it up and keep it cold. I liked it served over ice and if I had remembered to bring some fresh mint, I think that would have been a tasty garnish.

There you go. If you told me you liked it — and I really appreciate everyone who said so — you have plenty of time to give it a try for yourself this summer.

And if you come up with a better name, go for it. Please.

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Jun 28 2011
4 Comments
Food and Drink, Pittsburgh

catch the wave.

(Subtitled: Or some other marketing bullshit.)

When I made my rounds on Friday, I picked up a bottle of Iron City’s newest burst of brewing genius — IC Light Mango. My beer folks had been waiting for this one since news of it came out a few weeks ago, and, yeah, I need to try one — one — just out of morbid curiosity.

And tonight was the night.

I had already had a solid western Pennsylvania kind of evening — brats from Parma in the Strip, with a glass of White Magick from Voodoo in Meadville — so something from Pittsburgh’s oldest brewery — sort of — was the perfect capper, right?

Heh.

Here we go. The bag was appropriate, I thought, probably more than the Penn Brewery glass. Let’s take a closer look.

Hm. Looks like a funky Coors Light. But I’m committed here, so let’s see what it looks like in the glass.

After a hard pour, that head held on for a while, thereby exceeding my expectations. But even more important than the look? The smell. Holy mangoes, Batman — the powerful fruit on the nose promised something that would taste like fruit juice. Maybe not so good for a beer, but I was hopeful.

But that’s not what I got.

The nose promises a fruit bomb, but the flavor doesn’t match the nose; in fact, it doesn’t even come close. Going in, I didn’t expect to like this, but I was expecting a cloying, fruity mess, and what I got instead was actually just kind of dull: a hint of the promised mango flavor, and nothing that suggests that any hops or barley had anything to do with the production of the beer.

Here’s the odd part. I hate this kind of marketing crap, when a brewery blindly follows trends in hopes of scoring a winner. But while I wouldn’t recommend IC Light Mango, I didn’t hate it. It is bland, inoffensive and will probably sell by the truckload for the rest of the summer.

And that’s probably my biggest problem with IC Light Mango — there are a bunch of people who will buy this and think they’re being adventurous. And that’s a bummer, especially when there are so many really good fruit beers out there to try. The next time East End releases one of its berry-rye concoctions, get yourself to the brewery in a hurry; they go quick, because they’re that good.

If you want to try IC Light Mango because you’re curious? Fine — go have a taste and see what you think. But please think twice about rushing to buy a case, just because it’s the newest thing from Iron City — you’d be much better off spending your money supporting brewers that put some thought and care into their beer, rather than those that chase marketing numbers instead.

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Jun 20 2011
1 Comment
Food and Drink, Ohio

#ohiotour (monday).

We both had days off, and neither of us had to be back at any specific time, so the drive from Cincinnati to Pittsburgh was a leisurely one. We stopped at an outlet mall. We visited the Andersons store in Pickerington to check out their beer.

And, as I told you before, we ate pretty well.

In fact, our breakfast on Monday makes this whole post worthwhile. We spent Sunday night in Mason, which I had previously known as the town closest to Kings Island, the giant amusement park where I spent many teenaged days being amused. The town itself is a little odd; it’s the home of Procter and Gamble, and the tax revenue provided by the company has to be off the charts. City-maintained landscaping dotted every corner of every boulevard, and the strip malls — including the one where we were headed — were nicely tucked out of view.

Still, it wasn’t hard to find the Mason location of Blue Ash Chili, a 40-year-old local chain of chili parlors which specialize in Cincinnati’s local delicacy. Forgive me if I’ve explained this to you in person, but Cincinnati chili is different. The spices are Mediterranean and not Mexican; yes, that’s cinnamon, allspice, nutmeg and maybe even a little cocoa powder. The beef is finely chopped, so the chili has an almost-smooth consistency.

And it’s served over spaghetti. This is not negotiable.

The base is the three-way, which is usually chili, spaghetti and a mound of finely grated cheddar. Four-way? Add kidney beans. Five-way? Add onions. Oyster crackers aren’t a “way” in and of themselves, but they are practically required as well. Add some shakes of hot sauce, and you’re ready to go.

Mrs. Crappy thought it was a little too early in the morning for something that didn’t resemble breakfast; besides, she had had her heart set on a chili omelette since before we left for the trip.

Yeah, I know I posted this pic already. It was good enough to be worth it.

I have no such hang-ups, so 10:30 a.m. seemed like the perfect time for a five way and a side of fries. Mrs. Crappy’s breakfast looked delicious, but I made the right choice.

Here’s the funny thing. When I first looked at the menu online, I couldn’t help but notice that there were Food Network logos everywhere. This was thanks to a visit by Guy Fieri and his Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives show. I’ve always found Guy to be a little cheesy, but I’ve never had a huge problem with his show (unlike some friends of mine, who seem to react violently to the very mention of his name).

However.

Remember a few paragraphs ago when I said spaghetti was one of the things that makes Cincinnati chili Cincinnati chili? Seeing this on the menu made me snicker:

So let’s recap: Three-way. Four-way. Five-way.

And Guy’s Way? The Wrong-way.

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Jun 13 2011
4 Comments
Food and Drink, Music, Ohio, Uncategorized

#ohiotour (sunday).

Besides that night’s show in Cincinnati, I had one thing on my mind when we got up Sunday morning — breakfast.

And that’s when the day got weird.

Mrs. Crappy found a place in Fairlawn called the Sweet Pea Cafe that had a fabulous-looking breakfast menu and sparkling reviews on Urbanspoon and Yelp. I had taken a cursory glance at the menu the week before and hadn’t noticed the corn-and-bacon pancakes — please allow me to repeat that: CORN-AND-BACON-PANCAKES — and I was stoked when we placed our order. The wait certainly would be worth the payoff, right?

Waiting. And waiting. And waiting.

Um.

Unfortunately, I can’t answer that question. We arrived in time to spend about 45 minutes on breakfast before we headed southwest towards Cincy, and while I didn’t expect breakfast to hit our table Pamela’s fast, I also didn’t think waiting for our meal would eat up that entire 45 minutes. When we finally gave in, we were met with a shrug from the owner, who made us wait to ask him about the wait for our order.

No food. Indifferent owner. Sweet Pea Cafe outside of Akron? Avoid.

And while we gamely made do with our day-old Giant Eagle subs for breakfast, we got lost in Akron. We found the nastiest rest rooms we’ve seen for years in a gas station-Subway combo south of Columbus. We had to switch hotel rooms in Mason — our Cincy-area stop — because the bathroom in our first room hadn’t been cleaned. We encountered horrid traffic outside of Riverbend. We even had to move once we got parked because the kids who were directing traffic weren’t bothering to direct traffic.

But once we finally kicked back in the lot with a beer or two, the crap of the day started to melt away. It wasn’t as hot in Cincinnati has it had been at Blossom. We met an excellent dude from Louisville who works as a brewer for New Albanian in southern Indiana, who was happy to give us a taste of his excellent APA before we went inside.

And then there was the show.

I loved the set list from the start, but I have to admit that I was still feeling a little clenched from everything else that happened that day — so the band sort of snuck up on me a bit. I hadn’t heard a Punch You In The Eye before; I hadn’t seen a Twist in a couple years. But when Mound started up, I finally started paying attention. A smooth Jibboo, a Fee that Mrs. Crappy almost missed and Backwards — still my favorite song from Joy and one that’s turning into a monster live — wrapped up the first set, with a cool breeze and a stunning sunset to top it off.

The second set started with an indication that the band wasn’t fucking around: Carini. Bam. My first Tweezer, a Crosseyed that rivaled the one we saw at Star Lake in 2003, a Boogie On that might not have been in the ideal place in the set — I was awfully happy to hear it nonetheless — and the capper: a raging Julius into a perfect YEM. Encore? Loving Cup and a thunderous Tweezer Reprise.

Maybe with the exception of Steam, this show had a different feel than the one the night before — a little darker, a little more intense. Blossom was an explosion of energy; Riverbend was about plumbing the depths. Different shows, yes, but the band was near its best both nights.

We didn’t make the same mistake at Riverbend that we had at Blossom — this time, we found food in the lot before we left. Mrs. Crappy found a guy selling the ubiquitous veggie burritos: still warm, beans, zucchini, carrots, peppers, rice and cheese. It couldn’t possibly be more cliché; it also couldn’t have been any better at that moment.

We had a 30-minute drive from Riverbend back to the hotel, and we kept passing exits along Cincinnati’s outerbelt that teased with gleaming White Castle signs. I drove past them all, full, tired and happy.

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