Entries associated with the tag "Peter Engler":

This week in Omnivorous I profiled Vienna Beef VP Bob Schwartz, whose new book Never Put Ketchup on a Hot Dog is a warm and fuzzy history of classic Chicago hot dog stands. Schwartz is a gregarious and funny guy--that's his license plate in the photo--and despite his book's provocative title (provocative to outsiders anyway) it is fairly good natured when it comes to the raging controversies that flare up from time to time when debating hot dogma. If you don't know what I'm talking about check out the minor shitstorm that broke when contributor David Hammond dared to slag Jimmy's Red Hots. Hey, you guys are friends! (But for the record, I wondered what Hammond was smoking too.)

I bring this up because that distinguished Investigator of South Side Culinary Oddities Peter Engler referred me to a few old newspaper clips during my research that challenge some of the conventional wisdom passed down through the ages about the origins of the "Depression sandwich." For one thing the legend of Fluky's founder Abe Drexler pioneering what we know today as the Chicago hot dog "dragged through the garden" seems somewhat flawed given this passage by Charles Leroux from the Tribune of May 17, 1975:

There are a half-dozen or so hot dog stands that have grown into shrines to the Chicago-style pup—steamed poppy-seed bun; big slices of tomato, pickle, etc. One of these is Fluky's, 6749 N. Western Av. There, under a three-story revolving hot dog sign, you can sit in the spacious parking lot and have a dog (50 cents, 89 cents for a double) with the works (mustard, catsup, relish, onion, pickle, hot peppers, tomato slices).  

That's right--"the works" at Fluky's at one time included "catsup."

I come from a land where it is perfectly acceptable to dress franks with ketchup, but I really don't have a dog in this fight. I only point it out--with apologies to Schwartz--to suggest that the wiener police ought to take a deep breath and concentrate on their own condiments.

We have 20 other hot dog joints in the listings, orthodox and reformed.

Is there anything Louisa Chu can't do? Not only has her prerecorded run as guest judge for Battle Zucchini just finished, but she's taking a break from a summerlong cheffing stint on a fishing boat in Sitka, Alaska, to serve as fixer for Anthony Bourdain and the No Reservations production team, in town today through early next week to film the long-awaited Chicago episode. Louisa, who made a memorable appearance in the first season's Paris episode (and many on Gourmet's Diary of a Foodie) will be escorting Bourdain and crew to L20, Calumet Fisheries, and Burt's Place, among other locations--including a visit to the Tom Tom Tamale factory and Fat Johnnie's with the distinguished Peter Engler.

For the last few months my pals Peter Engler and Rob Lopata have spearheaded an ambitious project: a survey of soul food joints, with a particular focus on the many little places that exist all over the south and west sides, quietly serving their neighbors with nary a mention in the media. I've been lucky enough to tag along on most of these forays, and so far I've been present for a few remarkable finds, one of which I wrote about in Omnivorous this week, recalling the momentous day when Peter found a place that sells Mississippi Delta-style hot tamales.

Another I've been meaning to write about for weeks is Doggy's S.S. Soul Eatery. Rob ID'd this little place around Harrison and California months ago, and we've had a couple excellent lunches there that included giant, heaping plates of ham hocks, fried pork chops, short ribs, and a seasonal smothered rabbit special, all at extremely reasonable prices. For instance, a seemingly bottomless bowl of soupy chicken and dumplings, filled with big chunks of rangy meat, charts at a mere $4.50. The sides that come with these show a particular amount of care in the making: green, leafy stewed cabbage; tangy mac 'n' cheese with a thick, clingy sauce; candied yams with pronounced orange and cinnamon notes; spicy and slightly sweet greens; and caramely bread pudding that, along with corn muffins, arrives with each order. Even the sauces on some of the main dishes distinguish themselves--for example, the gravy on the rabbit has a particularly peppery bite (pix attached). 

There's a lot of sports memorabilia on the walls, and someone has won some trophies racing cars. Each time we've visited, it's been filled with old-timers sitting around shooting the shit and playing the dozens. Last time we were told that each day an old woman arrives around three in the morning and makes the day's dishes. 

I wish I could give you a little more background than that. In person the operators are as nice as can be, but so far every time I've called up for a chat I've been offered a big bowl of "get lost." According to a commemorative plaque on the wall they've been around since 2000, but as far as I can tell Doggy's has been overlooked by every search engine, forum, and food writer in town. They're obviously doing just fine without the help.

Doggy's S.S. Soul Eatery, 2815 W. Harrison, 773-722-4037, Mon-Sat 7 AM-9 PM, Sun 7 AM-7PM

Peter Engler, Investigator of South-side Culinary Oddities, hipped me to Peerless Potato Chips, the subject of this week's Omnivorous. Peerless, based in Gary, Indiana, is one of the few remaining independent chippers in the region, which is to say they are Punk Fucking Rock. Depending on "how hard we want to work," Scott and Jack Hogg and their employees fry about a metric ton of finished potato chips every day--enough to crush you like a bug. Here Scott allowed me to clamber up into the innards of the assembly line, where I could have holed up and survived on hot salty chips for years.

This weekend marks the inaugural event of the Greater Midwest Foodways Alliance, "dedicated to celebrating, exploring, and preserving unique food traditions and their cultural contexts in the American Midwest." Though the organization is still in its infancy it has some heavy hitters behind it, including Roosevelt University food historian Bruce Kraig, Kendall Culinary Arts Dean Chris Koetke, LTH-er and Chicago Culinary Historian-Foodways Roundtabler Cathy Lambrecht, and food scientist Kantha Shelke. The very idea of the organization indicates it has the potential to attract the kind of funding that the heavily budgeted and highly successful Southern Foodways Alliance wins (on which it is modeled)--and a number of commercial food producers have ponied up cash and product to get things rolling.

Saturday's program is titled "Stuffed: A Journey of Midwest Sausage Traditions" and itself features a formidable roster of sausage scholars, including Andy Smith, editor in chief of the newly updated Oxford Encyclopedia of Food and Drink in America, Buz Waldmire of Cozy Dog in Springfield (home of the corn dog), and my pal Peter Engler, who has singlehandedly rescued the South Side mother-in-law from obscurity. Lunch alone may be worth the cover charge, featuring Vienna Beef hot dogs, corn dogs, Michigan's Coney dogs, brats and sauerkraut, sausages from Ream's Elburn Market, Toledo's Tony Packo hot dogs, mother-in-laws, and a Milwaukee specialty known as "sausage salad."

It starts at 9 AM at at Kendall College, 900 N. Branch. Registration is $35.