Category: Food and Drink
How Coffee Conquered the World
I don’t know about you, but I can’t get moving in the morning without a cup of coffee—or, if I’m honest, about three. Coffee has been a faithful companion through late nights and early mornings for most of my adult life.
I’ve written about it before, but there’s one story I’ve never shared—the time coffee actually sent me to the hospital.
A Pain in the Chest (and a Lesson Learned)
It happened not long before I turned forty. Back then, forty felt ancient. I started getting chest pains bad enough to send me to a cardiologist. After a battery of expensive tests, he said, “I don’t know what’s causing your pain, but it’s not your heart. Go see your family doctor.”
Problem was, I didn’t have one. (This was before I thought seriously about medical school.) So, I found a doctor, went in for a full workup, and after all the poking and prodding he casually asked, “How much coffee do you drink?”
“About eight cups a day,” I told him.
He raised an eyebrow. “You need to stop that.”
I asked if he really thought that was the problem. He didn’t hesitate—“Absolutely.”
This was before anyone talked much about reflux, at least not the way we do now. But I quit coffee cold turkey, and just like that, the chest pain disappeared.
These days I’ve learned my limit: three cups in the morning, and that’s it. Any more and the reflux reminds me who’s in charge.
It’s funny how something so simple can be both a comfort and a curse. Still, for all its quirks, I wouldn’t trade that first morning cup for anything.
From Goats to Global Obsession
My little coffee story fits neatly into a much older one. For centuries, coffee has stirred passion and controversy in equal measures. Its history is full of smuggling, religion, politics—and even the occasional threat of beheading.
The story begins in the Ethiopian highlands, in a region called Kaffa—possibly the origin of the word coffee. Wild Coffea arabica plants grew there long before anyone thought to roast their seeds.
According to legend, around 850 CE a goat herder named Kaldi noticed his goats acting wildly energetic after eating the red berries. We will never know if Kaldi was real or just a great marketing story.
By the 1400s Yemeni traders brought coffee plants from Ethiopia across the Red Sea to Yemen. The first recorded coffee drinker was Sheikh Jamal-al-Din al-Dhabhani of Aden, around 1454. He and other Sufi mystics used the brew to stay alert during long nights of prayer—a kind of early spiritual espresso shot.
Coffee and the Muslim World
By 1514, coffee had reached Mecca and through the early 1500s it spread across Egypt and North Africa, beginning in the Yemeni port of Mocha (yes, that Mocha). Coffeehouses—qahveh khaneh—sprang up everywhere. They were the original social networks: lively centers for news, politics, debate, and gossip, often called “Schools of the Wise.”
Coffee also had its critics. Some Muslim scholars debated whether it was halal, arguing that its stimulating effect made it suspiciously close to an intoxicant.
The governor of Mecca banned coffee altogether, calling coffeehouses hotbeds of sedition. Thirteen years later the Ottoman sultan lifted the ban, recognizing that you can’t outlaw people’s favorite drink. Similar bans came and went—including one by Sultan Murad IV in the 1600s, who reportedly made drinking coffee a capital crime. It didn’t work. Coffee had already conquered the Middle East.
Europe’s Complicated Love Affair
When coffee reached Europe—most likely through Venetian traders—it faced new suspicion. To many Europeans, coffee was “the drink of the infidel,” something foreign and threatening.
Some Catholic priests went so far as to call it “the bitter invention of Satan” or “the wine of Araby”. The issue was both secular and theology—wine played a central role in Christian ritual and Muslims, forbidden to drink wine, had elevated coffee to their own social centerpiece.
Then around 1600 Pope Clement VIII joined the debate. Instead of banning coffee, he decided to try it first. The story goes that he found it so delicious he “baptized” it, declaring it too good to leave to the infidels.
True or not, coffee won papal approval—and from there, Europe was hooked. Coffeehouses spread like wildfire.
In England, they were called “penny universities” because for the price of a penny (the cost of a cup), you could join conversations on politics, science, and philosophy. Coffeehouses became the fuel of the Enlightenment—an alternative to taverns and alehouses. King Charles II tried to ban them in 1675, fearing they encouraged sedition, but public outrage forced him to back down.
The Global Takeover
For a long time, Yemen held a monopoly on coffee exports, carefully boiling or roasting beans to prevent anyone from planting them elsewhere. But where there’s money there’s smuggling.
The Dutch managed to steal a few live plants and in 1616 and began to grow them in Ceylon and Java—hence the nickname “java.” The French followed suit, planting coffee across the Caribbean. One French officer famously smuggled a single seedling to Martinique in 1723; within fifty years, it had produced over 18 million trees.
Brazil entered the scene in 1727 when Francisco de Melo Palheta snuck seeds out of French Guiana. Brazil’s climate proved perfect, and before long, it became the world’s coffee superpower.
The Bitter Truth
Coffee’s global spread had a dark side. Its plantations across the Caribbean and Latin America were built on enslaved labor. The beverage that fueled Enlightenment discussion in Europe was produced through brutality and exploitation in the colonies.
That’s the paradox of coffee—it has always been both a social leveler and a symbol of inequality.
Why It Still Matters
From Ethiopia’s wild forests to Ottoman coffeehouses, from Parisian salons to Brazilian plantations, coffee’s story mirrors the forces that shaped our modern world—trade, religion, colonization, and globalization.
That cup you’re sipping this morning connects you to centuries of human ingenuity, faith, conflict, and resilience.
Your latte isn’t just caffeine—it’s history in a cup.
The Wild Delicacy with a Pungent Reputation
Introduction
Every spring, frenzy erupts in the forests of Appalachia. It’s ramp season—the time of year when foragers, chefs, and food lovers alike scramble for a taste of Allium tricoccum, better known simply as “ramps.” These wild leeks are native to eastern North America and have been part of regional cuisine, especially in the Appalachian Mountains, for generations. But while ramps are beloved by some for their intense flavor, others object to their strong odor. More recently, there has been controversy over the ethics of harvesting them.
Where do you find ramps?
Ramps typically grow in rich, moist woodlands from Georgia to Canada, with a heavy concentration in the Appalachian region, including West Virginia, Kentucky, Tennessee, and North Carolina. They thrive in shady spots, often under beech, birch, or maple trees. Patches of ramps emerge in early spring, usually from late March to early May, depending on elevation and latitude. The plant resembles a small scallion, with smooth, broad leaves and a purplish stem. Both the leaves and the bulb are edible, and they carry a flavor often described as a cross between garlic and onion.
Traditionally, ramps were harvested by hand, with foragers pulling up the whole plant, bulb and all. However, the surge in popularity—fueled in part by chefs and food writers discovering their unique taste—has led to overharvesting in some areas. Today, sustainable harvesting practices are strongly encouraged. These include taking only one leaf per plant or harvesting just a small portion of any given patch to allow for regeneration. In some public lands, such as national parks, ramp harvesting is now restricted or banned altogether due to conservation concerns.
What do you do with them?
The bulb of the ramp—the white, root-like portion at the base—has the strongest odor and flavor. That’s where the pungent, garlicky-onion aroma really hits its peak. It’s rich in sulfur compounds (like those found in garlic), which is why the smell can linger on your breath—and in your kitchen—for days.
The leaves, in contrast, are milder and more herbaceous. They still carry that signature ramp flavor, but with a fresher, greener tone. Many foragers actually prefer using the leaves for things like pestos and sautés, partly to preserve the plant (since you can harvest one leaf and leave the bulb) and partly for the gentler taste.
So, if you’re after full-on ramp intensity, go for the bulb. If you want a subtler approach (or plan to be around other people), stick with the leaves.
As for how ramps are used, they’re astonishingly versatile. In traditional Appalachian kitchens, ramps are often fried with potatoes or scrambled with eggs. Ramps will frequently appear in Southern dishes like pimento cheese, corn bread, and brown beans. Modern chefs toss them into pastas, pickle them, or char them on the grill. More recently, ramps have appeared in pesto, risotto, and aioli. I recently tried ramp waffles with ramp butter—not a fan. I have also seen ramp wine and ramp ice cream but I’m not ready to try them.
The flavor is bold (some say obnoxious) and lingering—fans adore it, but detractors complain that it overstays its welcome. The smell of raw ramps has been compared to extremely potent garlic and eating them can leave a person with a powerful body odor for days. Some schools and workplaces in ramp-happy regions unofficially discourage bringing them for lunch. When I was younger, I remember kids being sent from school after eating too many ramps. I thought about it, but decided school wasn’t as bad as living with ramp odor.
The ramp’s cult-like status has sparked a larger conversation about food ethics and cultural respect. For many Appalachian communities, ramps are more than a trendy ingredient; they’re a cherished sign of spring, rooted in local tradition and memory. Commercialization by outside markets has created tension between tradition and profit, raising questions about who gets to define their value.
In the end, ramps remain a symbol of Appalachia’s deep culinary roots—an edible wild treasure that’s as complex in its social meaning as it is in taste. Whether you’re a die-hard fan or someone who politely passes on the smell or someone who makes every effort to avoid them, ramps are a reminder that even humble woodland plants can stir strong opinions.
In the United States today, we have a very expansive view of what constitutes Christmas celebrations. We don’t find it at all unusual to see an inflatable Santa Claus next to a manger scene. The wisemen are as likely to be following neon snowflakes as yonder star. This combination of religious and secular is something that we just accept without a whole lot of thought. But it wasn’t always the case. In colonial America Christmas was celebrated in a mostly religious fashion when it was celebrated at all.
Colonial New England
Colonial New England was settled in large part by Puritans. They even extended their influence to areas that they did not initially settle. They went so far as to banish, and in some cases even execute people who did not agree with them. They were determined to create a society dominated by Puritan beliefs.
The Puritans did not favor Christmas celebration; they believed there was no scriptural basis for acknowledging Christmas beyond doing so in prayer. In 1621 Governor William Bradford of Plymouth Colony criticized some of the settlers who chose to take the day off from work because as Puritans he felt that they could best serve God by being productive and orderly.
The celebration of Christmas was outlawed in most of New England. Calvinist Puritans and some other protestants abhorred the entire celebration and likened it to pagan rituals and “Popish” observances. In 1659, the General Court of Massachusetts forbade, under the fine of five shillings per offense, the observance “of any such day as Christmas or the like, either by forebearing of labour, feasting, or any such way.” The Assembly of Connecticut, in the same period, prohibited the reading of the Book of Common Prayer, the keeping of Christmas and saints’ days, the making of mince pies, the playing of cards, or performing on any musical instruments. These statutes remained in force until they were repealed early in the nineteenth century.
It is important to note that Puritan hostility to Christmas was not because they did not believe in the divinity of Jesus Christ. They objected to the way the holiday was being celebrated. They disliked the excesses of Yuletide festivities in England. Christmas had become a time for the working class to drink, gamble, and party. The Puritans would not tolerate any sign of disorder and believed that it was an affront to God.
They tried to protest Christmas revelries while still living in England but had little impact. Once they moved to the New World where they were able to exert control, they would not condone any form of excess. Except, perhaps, an excess of piety and self-righteousness.
Any form of Christmas observance that did occur took the shape of fasting, prayer, and religious service. Even the famous New England cleric Increase Mather loathed Christmas and believed the holiday was derived from the excesses of the pagan Roman holiday Saturnalia. We shouldn’t think that Mather was completely humorless; he once called alcohol. “a good creature of God “. Drinking wasn’t bad, but like all things it must be done in moderation with complete self-control. That’s probably good advice for everyone, whether they’re a Puritan or not.
Middle Atlantic Colonies
Many of the traditions that we now consider part of the American Christmas have their origins in the middle Atlantic colonies, most notably in Pennsylvania. Many of these were brought by settlers of German heritage as well as some traditions brought by the Scots and the Dutch.
In Pennsylvania there were two quite different Christmas traditions, one of the protestant groups and another of the Quakers. They differed considerably in their approach to Christmas.
Some colonists celebrated Christmas by importing English customs such as drinking, feasting, mumming and wassailing. Mumming involved wearing masks and costumes and going door-to-door singing carols or performing short plays in exchange for food or drink. Wassailing was a tradition where people would go from house to house singing carols and drinking toasts to the health of their neighbors. Some non-Puritan New Englanders also continued these traditions but kept them private to avoid attracting the attention of the Puritan officials.
Many of the Christmas traditions that we think of as being a quintessentially American are derived from the settlers of German descent who were known as the Pennsylvania Dutch. These include celebration of the advent season, the decoration of the Christmas tree, singing of Christmas carols, the display of nativity scenes, and the exchange of gifts on Christmas Eve or Christmas morning. We can’t imagine Christmas without these things, but we seldom remember that it was our German American ancestors who gave us these wonderful traditions.
To me the most interesting and probably most significant tradition passed on by the Pennsylvania Dutch was what led to our current concept of Santa Claus. During the colonial period, they had the tradition of Beltznickle. He is depicted as a man wearing furs and a mask and having a long tongue. He’s usually shown as being very ragged and wearing dirty clothes. He had a pocketful of cakes, candies and nuts for good children, but he also carried a switch or a whip with which to beat naughty children. Beltznickle took the naughty and nice list very seriously.
He was a long way from Clement Clark Moore’s jolly old elf in ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas and the jovial Santa Claus that we know today from the original Coca-Cola ads of 1930.
Quakers had a much different approach to Christmas. They did not celebrate it at all. It is not that they were opposed to Christmas as were the Puritans. It’s just that they did not celebrate any holidays, Easter, birthdays or any other holidays. They had no set liturgical calendar, so they did not have an advent, or an Easter season or any other religious holiday. There is no central Quaker authority to set beliefs or doctrines. Each Quaker is free to decide how to observe religious traditions. They focus on spiritual reflection and social justice.
Non-Quakers did not always understand their religious beliefs or practices. Here is an example of how Quaker practices were seen by outsiders. Swedish naturalist Peter Kalm visited Philadelphia in 1747 and recorded the following observation in his diary:
Christmas Day. . . .The Quakers did not regard this day any more remarkable than other days. Stores were open, and anyone might sell or purchase what he wanted. . . .There was no more baking of bread for the Christmas festival than for other days; and no Christmas porridge on Christmas Eve! One did not seem to know what it meant to wish anyone a merry Christmas. . . at first the Presbyterians did not care much for celebrating Christmas, but when they saw most of their members going to the English church on that day, they also started to have services.
Apparently, Presbyterians were much quicker to adopt popular practices then were the Quakers.
Southern Colonies
Celebration of Christmas was similar throughout all of the southern colonies. We’ll consider Colonial Williamsburg as a proxy for the rest of the southern colonial region. This is largely because there is more information available about Williamsburg than other areas and because it represented what was the majority of practices at the time. The major religion of the southern colonies was Church of England and they followed those practices.
Religious services were a central part of their celebration. The majority of the religious observances were during the advent season, the four weeks leading up to Christmas which were a period of reflection on the significance of the coming of Christ. The southern colonies usually held Christmas Eve services although occasionally Christmas Day services were held. Christmas Day was considered a day of celebration and family feasting.
It should be noted that the Christmas celebration was only for the white population. If the enslaved people received a holiday for Christmas, it was only because the weather was too bad to work in the fields. And of course, the house slaves were expected to attend to all the needs of the Christmas celebration.
Margie and I decided to visit Colonial Williamsburg in December of 2019, the period we refer to as BC (before COVID). We’ve always had a special affinity for Williamsburg because that’s where we spent our honeymoon 52 years ago. I’m not sure exactly what I was expecting, perhaps a large inflatable George Washington holding a Christmas wreath. But it was much more understated than what I had anticipated.
According to our tour guide, even those low-key decorations were probably more than would have been evident in the colonial era. People typically decorated their homes on the day before Christmas and removed the decorations the day after Christmas. Decorations were usually limited to candles in the window and pine boughs on the tables and mantle pieces. Pine boughs were used to decorate the church in what was known as “sticking the church”.
At Colonial Williamsburg we saw many displays that included fresh fruits and pineapples. Our tour guide told us that those were too precious to actually have been used as decorations and might have been included as part of a table display to be consumed during the Christmas feast. Some people would even rent a pineapple to display on their table as a sign of their wealth.
The first Christmas tree did not make its appearance in Williamsburg until 1848.
The southern colonists were very social people. They enjoyed wassailing as did the people of the mid Atlantic colonies. They also considered Christmas as a time for feasting, dancing, and celebrations. Men of the upper class celebrated Christmas with fox hunts and other outdoor activities. Men of the working classes frequently celebrated Christmas with shooting matches and drinking parties. Women, of course, were expected to stay at home and prepare the meals. Christmas Balls were a common practice among the upper class of the southern colonies. They were often elaborate and included large banquets with musicians, dancing and occasionally masquerades.
Present exchange was not standard practice in the southern colonies. However, it was common to give children small presents of nuts, fruit, candy, and small toys. Adults generally did not exchange presents.
Virginian Phillip Fithians writing in his journal in 1773 gave the following description of a gather just before Christmas: When it grew to dark to dance. . . . we conversed til half after six; Nothing is now to be heard of in conversation, but the Balls, the Fox-hunts, the fine entertainments, and the good fellowship, which are to be exhibited at the approaching Christmas.
Life in colonial America could be hard, but that did not stop them from having a joyous Christmas celebration.
Will We Find Each Other?
Margie and I hadn’t been together since February when I left for a 13-month unaccompanied tour with the Marine Corps in Okinawa. I took leave at Christmas time 1975 and Margie flew from Charleston, WV to Tokyo to meet me for the holidays. I went to the airport to meet her only to discover that her flight had been cancelled. Remember, there were no cell phones, e-mail, or texts. The airline didn’t know if she had been rescheduled or not or when she might arrive. After waiting through the last flight of the day, I decided to come back for the first morning flight.
I arrived at the airport the next morning to wait for the San Francisco flight. The Tokyo airport, like everything else in Japan, was very crowded. I was wondering how I would find Margie in that crowd, but it turned out not to be a problem. She was six feet tall and was literally head and shoulders above everyone else in the arrival area. I could see her from across the terminal.
Transportation In Japan
Fortunately, I had the hotel’s name written in Japanese on a piece of paper. I’m not sure we would have made it to the hotel had I not been able to show that paper to the cab driver. It was difficult to find a driver who spoke English. The cab ride to the hotel was fascinating; as we were absorbing the sights, the driver pointed to a McDonalds, then newly arrived in Japan, smiled, and said, “Big Mac-San.”
When we arrived at the hotel, we were greeted by the doorman who was wearing a top hat, white gloves, and a morning coat. He opened the door and smiled and said “Hi ya Joe”. That was the only thing he ever said to us in English the whole time we were there. He was about the right age to have been a young boy during the American occupation right after World War II. I suspect that’s where he learned that phrase and it was probably the only English he knew. But I don’t even know that much Japanese.
Japanese public transportation was also quite an experience. There’s no lining up to get on or off buses or trains. As soon as the doors open everyone rushes in or out. Margie is always trying to be polite and to let other people go ahead. I tried to tell her we would never get on if she kept deferring to everyone else. When the doors of the train opened, I got behind her and just pushed her on board.
I found this behavior by the Japanese to be strange given what I thought was excessive politeness about everything else and every other encounter we had in Japan. We even had a salesclerk apologize to us because we thought the price was too high on something we were considering. The only thing that I can think of is that public transportation was not a one-to-one personal encounter but was more of a group event and didn’t require the same degree of civility.
An Unusual Photo Op
There was one interesting thing about being so tall in Japan. We were walking together when a Japanese man came up to us with his camera, pointed to it, and said something. I thought he was asking us to take his picture. But he quickly turned around handed his camera to a friend and then, stood between us to have his picture taken with the big, tall Americans; his friend followed suite. It’s nice to think that our pictures are somewhere in a Japanese family’s photo album.
Christmas, Japanese Style
Christmas is a big deal in Japan, but it has no religious connotations. It is strictly a commercial holiday. Neon snowflakes and candy canes and Santa Clauses were everywhere. Needless to say, we did a little Christmas shopping while we were there.
This was the most unique Christmas Eve we have ever spent. We had dinner in a French restaurant in a Japanese hotel. After that we went to a movie in a Japanese theater. We saw the Steven Spielberg film “Jaws”. It was in English with Japanese subtitles. They don’t have popcorn in Japanese movie theaters (at least they didn’t then). We had Tangerines and sushi rolls.
On To Hong Kong!
From Tokyo we flew to Hong Kong. We stayed in a little more upscale hotel than I had on my first trip; on my second trip I stayed on board ship. I was determined that our reunion trip was going to be first class and we stayed at the Hong Kong Hilton. It was a beautiful place and had a Rolls Royce fleet parked in front. Of course, they weren’t there for our use. Apparently, a lot of very wealthy people stay there.
Shop ‘Till You Drop
Hong Kong was literally a shopper’s paradise. You could go bankrupt saving money! The exchange rate was about six Hong Kong dollars to one U.S. dollar. It seemed to us that things were really cheap; we just divided the price by six. You bargained for everything, even a pack of gum. We bought a lot of gifts and souvenirs and thoroughly enjoyed this new (to us) style of shopping.
Finally, a potential major purchase caught our fancy. While window shopping at a carpet store, we noticed one of the most beautiful rugs we had ever seen and maybe the most beautiful we will ever see. It was a deep crimson hand-woven rug known as the five-dragon rug. There was a large dragon in the center and a smaller dragon in each corner. We stood there looking at it and trying to figure how we could fit it into our living room. The price on it said $5000. Thinking it was Hong Kong dollars, we decided if shipping wasn’t too much, we should just go for it. We went in and asked the clerk exactly how much the price was in U.S. dollars to start the bargaining. He looked back at me and said “$5000 US, firm”. (Just to put it in perspective, my annual salary at the time was $9500.) So, of course you know there is no five-dragon rug in our living room, although I still regret not having figured out some way to make it work.
Eating Out And A Lesson Not Learned!
Despite my experience with bitter melon and pigeon, we decided to try for a real Chinese dinner. (I can be a slow learner.) We were advised to look for a restaurant where there were few or no westerners in the dining room and where the women were playing mahjong.
We found our restaurant and it looked good. Most of the restaurants where we had eaten served ala carte where we ordered dishes individually and they were served in small bowls that we shared. The menu had very little English and none of the typical Chinese restaurant dish names that we recognized. We found out much later that such staples of western Chinese restaurants as Chop Suey and General Tso’s Chicken were not actually of Chinese origin. Our most popular “Chinese” dishes would be a mystery in China.
There was one waiter who spoke limited English. I would point to something, and he would explain it to us as best he could, and we would decide whether or not to order it. We ordered a number of dishes expecting they would all come in small bowls that we would share.
We should have been suspicious when the waiter came and set up a folding table beside us. He then proceeded to load the table up with several large serving bowls. It seems this restaurant served family style.
Each bowl held enough food for somewhere between four and six people and we had seven bowls. As if having all this food on a table beside us wasn’t enough, the staff then lined up behind the table to watch the big Americans eat. Well, we gave it our best effort, but we couldn’t get through even a small amount. We took a little sampling from each and left most of it. (We both hoped that someone would be able to use the leftovers.) We had several more days in Hong Kong but never ventured into another Chinese restaurant.
A Trip Ending Too Soon
Reluctantly, we parted in Hong Kong. Margie flew back to West Virginia and her classroom. Fortunately, her return trip was less eventful than coming over. I headed back to Okinawa for the rest of my tour. We had a wonderful two weeks and would be together again in three months. We are both thankful we never had to be apart that long again.
We hope you also have wonderful memories of bygone trips and adventures. And, there’s more yet to do!
I can remember when I was younger watching old black and white movies on TV. I was impressed by the elegant ladies in evening gowns and the suave men in tuxedos. They looked so sophisticated sipping crystal clear martinis while smoking cigarettes. A few years later it was James Bond in a white dinner jacket instructing the bartender “Shaken not stirred.” Oh boy, I couldn’t wait to get my first martini, but I must confess, it is an acquired taste.
The martini is a very simple drink, only two ingredients. Yet so many bartenders make it so badly. There are as many recipes as there are martini drinkers and each is sure that his or hers is the best. Although, unless they’re using my recipe, they’re probably wrong.
So here it is:
Five parts gin. (Yes, gin)
One part vermouth.
So how can you go wrong? For one thing you can skimp on the ingredients. Go for quality not price.
For gin I use Plymouth or Tanqueray. A gin that is too smooth will give a bland drink. A gin that has too many botanicals will give a muddy drink. There are a lot of new craft gins on the market. Most of them command an elevated price. While some are quite good, others can best be described as awful. While you are learning your martini basics, stick to the classic London Dry Gins. If you have any questions, contact The Grumpy Doc. I’ve tried most of them and of course, you know I have an opinion.
For vermouth I use Noilly Prat or Dolin (harder to find). The single biggest mistake of the novice martini maker is to follow the recipe found in many bar guides that calls for a 2:1 gin to vermouth ratio. This leaves you tasting a drink that like it can’t decide what it wants to be. Some people are vermouth minimalists. They either leave it out all together or add only a few drops. Vermouth adds complexity (I know, a nerd word) and without it you have a glass of chilled gin. If that’s what you like, fine. Just don’t call it a martini.
Now for the garnish. The short answer is: “I don’t use one.” I don’t like anything distracting from the crisp flavor of a properly proportioned martini. The classic picture is always two olives on a cocktail pick. But unless you can find olives packed in vermouth, even a small amount of brine will ruin the drink. (Don’t get me started on that crime against nature, the dirty martini.) Occasionally on a hot summer day when I’m on the deck I’ll add a lemon twist, but it can overwhelm the drink.
Finally, we come to Mr. Bond’s instruction. Sorry 007, it’s not shaken. But you weren’t entirely wrong; it’s not stirred either. It’s poured. Mix your martini and pour it into a flask or a cocktail shaker (without ice) and put it in the freezer until it looks like it is starting to thicken. Don’t worry, it won’t freeze. So why poured? If either shaken or stirred for too little contact with the ice, you’ll get a warm drink, and no one wants that. Too much contact with the ice results in a diluted drink. If you like a little dilution in your martini (misguided though that may be) add a tablespoon of water to your mix. Depending on the ice for dilution leaves too much to chance.
Finally, don’t forget to put your glass in the freezer as well. The only thing that keeps your drink cold is the initial chill on the liquid and the glass. A stemmed glass will keep it cold longer; just remember to hold it by the stem.
The Grumpy Doc says “Cheers.”
The advent of spring in Appalachia brings about another ramp season and with it all things ramp. I’ve decided to get lazy today and repost my blog from May 2021.
What Is It About Ramps?
Continuing my reminiscences about growing up in West Virginia I’m going to visit the subject of ramps. For those of you who haven’t been blessed to live in Appalachia, ramps are a type of wild leek in the onion family. They have a very pungent flavor that is like a highly garlicky, sulfureous onion. They have a short season in the spring and are highly prized by those who enjoy them.
If you think politics can be contentious, you haven’t seen anything until you’ve seen the disagreements about ramps. You either hate ramps or you love ramps. There is no middle ground and almost no one is neutral on the subject.
Those unfamiliar with ramps might think, “If you don’t like them, just don’t eat them.” Well, it’s just not that simple. If you think garlic or onions can give you bad breath, just standby.
Ramps may give you the harshest breath that you’ve ever experienced. But that’s not the worst part. The odor of ramps will radiate from your body for several days. Despite much folklore about the best ways to rid your body of the odor, the only thing that works is the passage of time.
I can remember many years ago when I was in school, kids who would eat too many ramps sometimes would be sent home because the odor was just too much to bear in a closed classroom. There were times when I thought eating ramps might be worth it if I got a day off school. Ultimately, I decided maybe school wasn’t so bad.
The spring of my senior year in high school a buddy and I decided to go to Richwood for the annual ramp festival. Richwood sits in a river valley and as we started down the hill, we could see a haze hanging over the town. As we got closer to the festival site I was almost driven back. I grew up in a town with several chemical plants so I thought I was used to bad odors in the air, but was I ever wrong. The only thing that kept us going was free beer. We had both just turned 18 and could legally drink.
Even the federal government has declared ramps to be a public nuisance. The editor of the Richwood weekly newspaper once mixed ramp juice with the ink for a special edition. The smell was so bad the post office refused to deliver the paper and destroyed all the copies in its possession.
People who love ramps talk about the many ways to cook them. In the spring in West Virginia restaurants seem to continuously look for new ways to present ramps during the few weeks that they are available. They have ramp burgers, ramp pimento cheese, ramp jelly and ramp omelets. There has even been the misguided ramp infused wine. It seems to me that most recipes involve ways to disguise the flavor of ramps.
It’s not just when they’re cooked that they put off this objectionable odor. Even raw they can be hard to deal with. I was out in the country with my brother and his wife when she decided to pick some ramps (leaves only, the bulb is left to grow next year’s crop). Let me say I was glad we drove out separately. He said it was at least three days before the smell of ramps was cleared from the car. He joked that while ramps may not be grounds for divorce, they certainly could be grounds for temporary separation.
If you love ramps, I hope you enjoy them. Just make sure everyone else has enough warning to avoid you during ramp season. And that is The Grumpy Doc’s opinion about ramps. Be sure and leave a comment with yours.
Nacho Tots and Other Strange Things
A few years ago, Margie and I used to love watching Diners, Drive Inns and Dives on the Food Network. The host Guy Fieri would travel around the country, supposedly in his vintage Camaro convertible, visiting local restaurants, dinners, and bar and grills, in search of unique experiences. We especially liked to watch it when we were getting ready to take a trip and we were looking for places that we might want to visit.
Our daughter and her family live just outside of Atlanta and on one show Guy visited a place there called the Vortex. After watching the show, we decided we had to go there. It looked like one of the most interesting places we’d seen in this series. Of course, that doesn’t count that West Virginia gem, Hillbilly Hot Dogs that was featured in another episode of the show. (More on it in another post.)
Even before you walk through the door you know you’re in for a unique experience. You enter the Vortex through the gaping jaws of hell, and that’s just the beginning. The interior is crammed with more unusual things than you could ever see in a single visit. There are signs, posters, and artifacts of all kinds, including full-sized motorcycles attached to the walls and suspended from the ceiling. At one point we sat under a suspended motorcycle, and I was wondering just how securely it was fastened to those roof beams.
This may be the only restaurant I have ever been to where they present you with two pages of “house rules” before you get the menu. They called it Stuff You Really Need to Know. Among the many things on their list are the topics: Read Our Menu, Idiot Free Zone, No Whining, and Tip Or Die. Each of them has a paragraph long description that goes with it. They’re written in a humorous style, but I think there is absolute seriousness that underlies them. Check it out on their website www.thevortexatl.com, because even if you never go there, it’s worth reading this list.
On our first visit (yes, we’ve been several times) we decided to sit at the bar. The first time we visit a new place we often like to sit at the bar and talk to the bartender and get an overall feel for the restaurant and its environment.
Our bartender was a young gal probably in her mid-20s. She had spiky hair, multiple tattoos, and very dramatic makeup. But most dramatic was the fact that she was wearing a tank top which showed off her sculpted biceps and her full sleeve arm tattoos. She came up to take our order, Margie ordered a salad, and I ordered a burger with fries because that’s one of the things they’re known for.
Just as the waitress was getting ready to leave with our order Margie said, “I’d like the dressing to be fat free”. The waitress stopped in her tracks. She turned around, walked up to Margie, put her hands on the bar, leaned forward, and said, “This is the Vortex, we don’t do fat free!” Margie was intimidated and told her that regular dressing would be fine. I was also intimidated and thought, just to be safe, I should order a side of grease to dip my fries in.
After we finished eating the bartender who let us know that the Vortex was too tough for fat free, came by and offered Margie a drink called The Firefly, which was a tea-based drink with grapefruit vodka and a girly flavor. The guy sitting beside us started to laugh. I couldn’t reconcile “We don’t do fat free” with the frou frou Firefly. Apparently though, my beer was a manly enough order.
On our next visit I decided to be daring and try an appetizer that I had never heard of but have since seen in a few other places. That is the nacho tots mentioned in the title of this post. Imagine your standard nacho chip order but with tater tots instead of tortilla chips. The tots are roasted first then covered with melted cheese, jalapenos, onions and ground chorizo or beef and then given a quick spin under the broiler. When they first come out and they’re still hot they’re really good but when they start to get cold, not so much. I asked our waitress if these were popular and she said, ”Oh yes, drunk people really like them.”
They are justifiably well known for their burgers, but one group of burgers needs special mention. These are the coronary bypass burgers. They begin with the single coronary bypass which can be ordered anytime and then they progress through the double, triple and quadruple which can only be ordered between 2:00 o’clock and 5:00 o’clock PM with no takeouts and no substitutions. They recommend you order in advance. I’m not going to go over the details of all four, but I will summarize the quadruple coronary bypass burger.
This may be the biggest monster of a burger I have ever seen, and it is hugely stacked up. First, I’m going to tell you about the buns and there are four buns, a top and bottom bun and two middle buns. Each “bun” is a full grilled patty melt on Texas toast. In between these buns are 32 ounces of grilled sirloin patties, 28 slices of cheese, 27 strips of bacon, four fried eggs, grilled onions, relish, and mayonnaise served with 20 ounces of French fries and tater tots topped with melted cheese and bacon bits. The total calorie count for this meal is estimated to be in excess of 9600 calories.
If this sounds like something you might want to give a try, you should investigate their Super Stack Challenge. In this challenge you eat the entire quadruple coronary bypass burger and all of its sides together with two 32 oz soft drinks. If you want to take the challenge, they request that you call ahead. Oh, and you have to do it in 30 minutes. Apparently, a number of people have tried and failed because they also give you a bucket in case you need to throw up during the challenge.
So, what do you get if you pass the challenge? Of course, you’re going to get a T-shirt, you get a T-shirt for everything, and you get the burger for free. Your name and photo will appear on their wall and on their social media pages but that seems to be about it. They don’t cover any of your subsequent visits to the cardiologist.
Apparently, only two people have ever completed the challenge. That’s two more than I would have ever thought could possibly have done it. If you decide that’s something you’re up for, let me know and I’ll do my best to try and talk you into ordering something not as insane. But, if you decide to go for it, make sure the bucket is close by.
Just Remember, they don’t do fat free.
I know there are a lot of recipes for a Margarita floating around and that they all claim to be the “Perfect Margarita”. But they are wrong! After much experimentation and working in consultation with a world-renowned Margarita expert (my wife Margie), I have settled on the following recipe.
2 oz Patron Silver tequila
¾ oz Cointreau
1 oz simple syrup
1 oz lime juice
1 oz lemon juice
½ oz orange juice
Shake with ice and pour into a chilled Margarita glass.
Garnish with a lime wheel.
Enjoy!
Comments on preparation from The Grumpy Doc:
- Don’t skimp on the tequila. I tried to slip in a cheaper brand because I thought there were so many other ingredients it wouldn’t matter, but my consultant called me on it after the first sip and she didn’t know I’d made the switch. I now have an almost full bottle of middle shelf tequila gathering dust.
- Use Cointreau. It’s tempting to try and save money by using Triple Sec, but it doesn’t have the flavor. Some people like to dress it up with Grand Marnier but it can overwhelm the drink.
- Fresh squeezed juice only, no bottles or squeeze containers. And please, no bottled mixes!
- Simple syrup made with cane sugar. Agave syrup, if you can find it, works well. Please don’t use the abomination sold as bar syrup.
- A salt rim is optional but The Grumpy Doc thinks it detracts from the drink.
- Drink responsibly.
CHEERS!
What Is It About Ramps?
By John Turley
On April 15, 2024
In Appalachia, Commentary, Food and Drink, Reminiscence
It is time for my annual reposting of the blog about ramps, a widely unappreciated source of air pollution in West Virginia.
For those of you who haven’t been blessed to live in Appalachia, ramps are a type of wild leek in the onion family. They have a very pungent flavor that is like a highly garlicky, sulfureous onion. They have a short season in the spring and are highly prized by those who enjoy them.
If you think politics can be contentious, you haven’t seen anything until you’ve seen the disagreements about ramps. You either hate ramps or you love ramps. There is no middle ground and almost no one is neutral on the subject.
Those unfamiliar with ramps might think, “If you don’t like them, just don’t eat them.” Well, it’s just not that simple. If you think garlic or onions can give you bad breath, just standby.
Ramps may give you the harshest breath that you’ve ever experienced. But that’s not the worst part. The odor of ramps will radiate from your body for several days. Despite much folklore about the best ways to rid your body of the odor, the only thing that works is the passage of time.
I can remember many years ago when I was in school, kids who would eat too many ramps sometimes would be sent home because the odor was just too much to bear in a closed classroom. There were times when I thought eating ramps might be worth it if I got a day off school. Ultimately, I decided maybe school wasn’t so bad.
The spring of my senior year in high school a buddy and I decided to go to Richwood for the annual ramp festival. Richwood sits in a river valley and as we started down the hill, we could see a haze hanging over the town. As we got closer to the festival site I was almost driven back. I grew up in a town with several chemical plants so I thought I was used to bad odors in the air, but was I ever wrong. The only thing that kept us going was free beer. We had both just turned 18 and could legally drink.
Even the federal government has declared ramps to be a public nuisance. The editor of the Richwood weekly newspaper once mixed ramp juice with the ink for a special edition. The smell was so bad the post office refused to deliver the paper and destroyed all the copies in its possession.
People who love ramps talk about the many ways to cook them. In the spring in West Virginia restaurants seem to continuously look for new ways to present ramps during the few weeks that they are available. They have ramp burgers, ramp pimento cheese, ramp jelly and ramp omelets. There has even been the misguided ramp infused wine. It seems to me that most recipes involve ways to disguise the flavor of ramps.
It’s not just when they’re cooked that they put off this objectionable odor. Even raw they can be hard to deal with. I was out in the country with my brother and his wife when she decided to pick some ramps (leaves only, the bulb is left to grow next year’s crop). Let me say I was glad we drove out separately. He said it was at least three days before the smell of ramps was cleared from the car. He joked that while ramps may not be grounds for divorce, they certainly could be grounds for temporary separation.
If you love ramps, I hope you enjoy them. Just make sure everyone else has enough warning to avoid you during ramp season. And that is The Grumpy Doc’s opinion about ramps. Be sure and leave a comment with yours.