Eatin'/Livin': Coop’s Favorite NYC Waterin’ Holes
The clip above is the promo for a new reality series in development by Jake Catchpole.
It's easy to get lonesome and lovesick in our nation's big bad cities. And every time I step out to New York City for a bit of big city bidness, I get a lil homesick and wind up walkin' after midnight like a ghost from a Patsy Cline song. They say you're never really in a city till you've had a drink there, but NYC is so full of uptight waterin' holes with doormen givin' you the stink eye, it's not easy for a country boy to know where to drown his sorrows.
So consider this a Southern Brand primer on a few joints that put a bit of country back in the city, in a genuine and heartfelt way. No corporate rat traps here, just rowdy people, cold beer and JD on ice. I'll name 6 joints. Good and bad. Half I tried and half I heard about and aim on visitin' next time around. Feel free to chime in buckaroos. Ready? Saddle up.
Red Rock West Saloon
457 W. 17th St., New York, NY 10011
www.redrockwestsaloon.com
On NYmag.com, Henry Tenney wrote, "When you walk into Red Rock West you think, 'I might get my ass kicked in this place' "— and went on about how it becomes a hillbilly burlesque show with dancing barmaids spitting shots into customers' mouths. And sure enough, smack dab in the middle of fancy pants Chelsea is what The New York City Bartenders & Patron Guide's says is consistently the wildest bar to make it onto nycbp.com.
Now, me, having had my shirt torn off by the bartenders in there, having had shots poured straight in my mouth there, having met quite a few darlin's there, having seen every single gal in the place - including wall street lawyers, lady cops and female Harley riders - all clog dancing on the flaming bar to the sounds of the Charlie Daniels Band, I can honestly say it's like nothing else in New York City, and like no place I (and in all likelihood, you) ever been.
All those girls that ran away from your hometown cause they were too great too be contained wind up here, as redneck bartender superheroes. Whatever you do, don't mention Coyote Ugly, unless you want a beer bottle broken over your head. They hate that corporate evil thing there. And DON'T touch the girls, the place has some mean-ass bouncers. I know about them too. Don't ask.
Doc Holiday's
Manhattan/East Village
141 Avenue A
New York, NY 10009
Alphabet City ain't no joke boy, you got about a hundred different people that look like they've completly lost their way, and they're on every corner, intermingling with all the pretty folk making the New York scene. And in the middle of all that is a bar pumping David Allen Coe and Billy Joe Shaver with that familiar aroma of dirt, sweat and Natty light. Cowboy boots and western ephemera everywhere it looks like a joint lifted straight outta Southwest Texas. You got your college kids in there lookin' to get their hurt on them $5 dollar 'all the beer you can drink' Tuesday nights. You got your $2 PBR's and at Happy Hour you got your 2 for 1. Way I figure it, that's a buck a Pabst. C'mon now New York.
Standing at the bar and by the pure country jukebox are the regulars. Ornery, down on their luck, out-for-kicks-or-thrills, outlaws lookin' for a dust-up, who could give a hoot 'bout the frat kids who find this "quaint" and "invigoratin". If yer young and fulla piss and vinegar, it's a blast. If you're older and you been around some, you can probably sense there's danger in the air. 'Cause there is. But it's worth doin'. A drink or two and then travel on, cause ain't much good gonna come out of this. Still gotta be done at least once. If you're fearless and don't mind throwin' the bones, hang out all night. You'll get a story or two outta it.
Rodeo Bar
375 3rd Ave
New York, NY 10016
www.rodeobar.com
Now I don't know nuthin' firsthand about Rodeo Bar - I think I was there one time to see Lee Rocker (fella that used to be in Stray Cats, helluva rockabilly wildman) bang the heck out a standup bass and rock the place like a real memphis hillbilly - but truth be told, I was more than a few Lone Stars into the night when I arrived or as I heard a city boy from Boston once say, ' was half in the bag, man, wicked pissed.'
But I remember tryin' to text message to Ray Ray to the rockabilly beat. I remember it was a country-ass place in the middle of the world capitol of city-ass slick. Now according to Drew Pisarra at citysearch NYC Rodeo Bar is a roots enthusiast's dream, featuring local and national honky-tonk, alt-country, bluegrass and rockabilly acts every night of the week and "real Texas BBQ". Yes, the Tex-Mex decor is fetchin'. The bar, built into a converted horse trailer, serves Lone Star and Negra Modelo in bottles. A good time, but best when a band is playin'. Which is every night at some point I guess.
Trailer Park Lounge NYC
Trailer Park Lounge
www.trailerparklounge.com
271 W 23rd St
New York, NY 10011
Waitresses that look like that sexy 'ol Bettie Page (or was that Patti Page?) I'm not sure if this place is celebrating us or makin' fun of us. But they got Champagne in a Can and Tator Tots. The menu also had moonpies and mac and cheese on it as well as a veggie burger (?). It's across the street from the Chelsea Hotel. Which is historic all right, but best of all it's next to Rub BBQ.
Rub BBQ
208 W 23rd St
New York, NY 10011
Yup across the street from Trailor Park, more or less, is some of the best BBQ in NYC. Here's tha Rub. (sorry) There's this fella, lives in Brooklyn - goes by the handle WhitetrashBBQ on blogger and he writes real good bout BBQ in NYC (and BBQ elsewhere too). He laid it down on what he calls the BBQ triangle:
"The other night me and old friend, Peter Vermaelen, and corporate chef Mark Slutsky, both of McCain Foods, went to RUB for part of our grazing through New York City's downtown barbecue triangle. What's the downtown barbecue triangle? Well, it's the triangle formed by RUB, Hill Country NY and Blue Smoke. All three are within walking distance and make a great BBQ crawl. (More on that later!) And yes, there are other BBQ triangles in NYC." Further readin' is on his blog, just click here.
Dinosaur Barbecue
www.dinosaurbarbque.com
646 W 131st St
New York, NY 10027
Now, I been in New York City a whole gaggle of times but I ain't always made it to the best BBQ joints. I've stared dumbfounded as my city friends went to town on BBQ'd eel, while I fumbled with those fiddle sticks. I've sipped cold-ass rice wine and puked on those damn Cosmos tryin' to pick up a Sara Jessica type gal (She said my boots didn't "make it for her", whatever that means). Most of the time I'm eatin' in NY, I get a hotdog, or I get an apple and a Coffee - Regular while I walk down the street. I feel like McCloud when I'm out there. But even a lost cowboy has heard about Dinosaur BBQ in Harlem. I never been there, like I said, big city friends would rather take me out to "arty shows" where some dude with only one name (usually a name like Gotan or somethin' who is actually a refugee from Missouri) has cut up a cow and called it art. Which, hell, it might be if it was smoked for 14 hours and served up with some cheddar cheese, pickle slices, raw onion and white bread. But anyway, Ray Ray lived off of the grub at the original Dinosaur BBQ up in Syracuse in the early 90's. Says he went in 170 lbs. soakin' wet, came out four years later, 205 sweatin' sauce. He still orders the "slatherin' sauce" from their site.
Well that's my take on the Southern side of NYC, if you got any tips for me, gimme a holler.
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Eatin': Hey Jimmy Dean, Don’t Mess With A Texas Man’s 16OZ Sausage!
If it ain't broke, then don't fix it.
Comedy gold.
Posted in Eatin'
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Eatin': Mississippi Delta - Home Of The Tamale?
I came across a great article a while back titled: The Red-Hot, Pork-Stuffed, Corn-Wrapped, Blues-Flavored Enigma by Colby Buzzell. It's about the top notch tamales to be had throughout the Mississippi Delta, the subculture they've spawned and the folklore surrounding their origins in the region. Here's an excerpt:
When I think of Mississippi, I think Southern accents and how the hell do you spell that? I don't think tamales. When I think tamales, I think Mexico and Mexicans. I have yet to meet a Mexican with a Southern accent. So tamales in Mississippi to me sounds about as logical as pierogies at Benihana.
But they're on the menu at Bud's Snack Bar in Tunica. And Stewart's Quick Stop in Cleveland. And Teal's Onward Store in Onward. Most of the tamales are stuffed with spicy beef or pork and corn dough. Some come wrapped up in corn shucks, some in wax or hot-tamale paper. Some are sold out of small wooden shacks the size of port-a-shitters, some out of carts on the side of the road, some out of trailers, some out of cafés, some out of houses. They're sold all over the Mississippi Delta, on what's become known as the tamale trail.
But here's the thing: Nobody here seems to know -- or really care -- how they got here. They just are.
When I left Bud's, I saw a bunch of black guys trying to stay warm next to a burn barrel. The neighborhood looked like the ideal place to shoot a Tom Waits video: decrepit, beat-to-hell one-stories that in any other city would have been condemned. The yards were decorated with mixed furniture and dead vehicles. I asked the guys around the barrel about the origins of tamales. The one sitting on a cement block enjoying a lunchtime Busch tall can said, "I tell you what, you tell us what they originally from, from what you know. You the journalist."
Okay. So I did. I told them, "From the research I did online, the Mexicans"
"Yup, the Mexicans," he said while nodding.
So I continued. "Years back, they introduced them to the -- " I paused because I didn't know what to say. Do I say "black people" or "African-Americans"? I grew up in the nineties at a time when political correctness was forced down our throats at gunpoint in school, so I wasn't quite sure what to do. I said, "To, you know, the people here. Cotton was real big back then so they introduced the tamales to the cotton pickers." After taking a swig, he told me that sounded about right from what he's heard.
But the guy next to him didn't agree. He said, "Our people! Black people! They did, and did it with a shook, a corn shuck. That's the way we did and my mama used to did it." He went on to tell me that it had to be the black people that brought tamales to the Delta. They are the best cooks. It just doesn't make sense any other way.
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Eatin': Kool-Aid Pickles
A Delta delicacy. Here's what John T. Edge had to say about 'em in the New York Times:
(Kate Medley took the picture)
A gallon jar of pickles sits near the register at Lee’s Washerette and Food Market, a mustard-colored cinder-block bunker on the western fringe of this Mississippi Delta town. Those pickles were once mere dills. They were once green. Their exteriors remain pebbly, a reminder that long ago they began their lives on a farm, on the ground, as cucumbers. But they now have an arresting color that combines green and garnet, and a bracing sour-sweet taste that they owe to a long marinade in cherry or tropical fruit or strawberry Kool-Aid. Kool-Aid pickles violate tradition, maybe even propriety. Depending on your palate and perspective, they are either the worst thing to happen to pickles since plastic brining barrels or a brave new taste sensation to be celebrated. The pickles have been spotted as far afield as Dallas and St. Louis, but their cult is thickest in the Delta region, among the black majority population. In the Delta, where they fetch between 50 cents and a dollar, Kool-Aid pickles have earned valued space next to such beloved snacks as pickled eggs and pigs’ feet at community fairs, convenience stores and filling stations. And as their appeal has widened, some people have seen a good business opportunity. Even the lawyers have gotten involved. Children are the primary consumers, but a recent trip through the region revealed that the market for Kool-Aid pickles is maturing.
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Eatin'/Readin'/Travelin': Let The Belly Be Your Guide
In Southern Belly: The Ultimate Food Lover's Companion to the South, John T. Edge travels the back roads from Texas to Virginia, from chicken shack to fish camp, from barbecue stand to pie shed, to bring you the most savory food and history the South has to offer. You'll find a South hidden in plain sight, where cooks who've been standing tall by the stove since Eisenhower was in office serve local specialties found nowhere else. The perfect traveling companion, Southern Belly reveals the stories and secrets behind this mouthwatering food and guides you to more than 200 places that have quietly become Southern institutions.
Check this out:
Southern Belly: The Ultimate Food Lover's Companion to the South (Paperback)
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