The American Series, Pt. VII — Cherry Cobbler

With summer comes all things American — baseball, barbecues, fireworks, hot dogs and burgers, corn on the cob, the beach. It seems as if summer is the quintessential American season — a time of sunny optimism, that most American trait.

Willa picking cherries

Willa picking cherries

Each region of the country celebrates the season a little differently. We have our own unique summer traditions in Southern California — margaritas and mariachi, carne asada, Spanish rosé, tri tip on the grill, Dodger dogs and Hollywood Bowl picnics. One summer favorite I’ve always eyed with suspicion was cherry cobbler. Until recently, that is… More

The American Series, Pt. VI — The Oyster Bar

“He was a bold man that first eat an oyster.” —Jonathan Swift

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I found an article online, “The 10 Best Classic American Dishes and Where to Find Them.” Number 3 was New England clam chowder, and the place to get it was the Oyster Bar at Grand Central Station in New York. Which got me thinking about oyster bars.

The Walrus & the Carpenter

If I had unlimited disposable income and could eat anywhere I wanted, at least one night a week would be spent at an oyster bar. More

Heaven Sent, Via Kentucky

I am fortunate to have not lost many friends over the years. There was a rash of deadly car crashes in high school, reckless kids gone almost before they began, but since then things have pretty much been quiet. With the exception, that is, of one of my dearest friends — a Southern gentleman named Dann Byck.

Dann at Byck’s Department Store in Louisville, 1977

Dann would bristle at that description of him, which is exactly why I use it. He had a good sense of humor. We met at a coffee joint on a snooty street in Santa Monica where we would both sometimes sit in the mornings and watch the beautiful Range Rover mothers push their babies past in Italian-made Peg Perego strollers. More

The American Series, Pt. VI — Julep Jars

Our friend, Heather, invited us and a few friends recently to celebrate her birthday. She wanted to do a “Southern potluck.” I offered to bring gumbo, fried chicken, corn bread and a few other miscellaneous items. “You nut,” Heather responded. “It’s not a potluck if you make everything!”

Heather & her julep

Ultimately I settled on buttermilk fried chicken wings and mangalitsa lard-infused corn bread. And, to drink, mint juleps. More

The American Series, Pt. V — Buffalo Chicken Wings

In the sacred domain of Sunday sports, the holiest day of them all is Super Bowl Sunday. And if there is a culinary sacrament most cherished by its practitioners, it would be the Buffalo wing.

Buffalos don’t have wings. But chickens do, and the story goes that a guy with a bar in Buffalo, New York stumbled upon the fabled recipe while either trying to stimulate his patrons to buy more drinks, or trying to use up a mistaken delivery of chicken wings. Whatever the truth, we say thank you.

You could veer from tradition and try this recipe with Tabasco or some other spicy red sauce rather than Frank’s Red Hot (available online or in most well-stocked grocery stores); you could use margarine or olive oil rather than butter, or bake your wings instead of frying them. People do all sorts of crazy things in life. More

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