Having been a fat-ass most of my days, I am an authority on chewing things in my general vicinity.
I began life in Baltimore, where I soon developed my lifelong hatred of green beans and radishes. From a very young age, I remember the old black men with horse drawn carts coming down the street, yelling, "Tomatoes! Cantaloupes!" I am that guy in your way at the grocery patiently searching for the perfect tomato.
As one of four kids in a single income blue collar family, we didn't dine out much and it was far from haute cuisine when we did. I had no idea there were peppers other than bell and jalapeno until I left home. Never saw an artichoke or avocado.
One thing dad always had was a boat. We grew up fishing and crabbing on the tributaries of the Chesapeake Bay. The six of us could pack the cooler, load the boat, trailer it from the city to the loading dock, launch and, usually, with hand lines or two modest "trotlines", fill a bushel basket with "keepers" and get home in time to steam them up for dinner.
Blue crabs, steamed in a mixture of water, vinegar and lager, seasoned with Old Bay, with some ears of Maryland "eastern shore" Silver Queen corn on the cob.
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The heathens here in Texas like to boil crabs. Were it not for their brisket making talents, I'd have dispatched them long ago...
Vine ripened Maryland "ta-maters", sliced thick on white bread with mayo, salt and pepper. (You, know, the BLT, without the BL...)
Downtown Baltimore has/had a thriving "Little Italy" and a stretch known as
"Corned Beef Row". An obscene pile of paper thin sliced corned beef on lightly toasted rye, with a squirt of mustard and a fat barrel dill pickle on the side. A pile of Utz potato chips to round out the plate.
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Polock Johnny's was always good for a quick bite.
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At age 17, I enlisted and ended up spending most of my seven years in the swamps of Georgia. Running 2-5 miles per day and enduring other calorie burning tortures allowed me to fully enjoy stuffing my face and still fit into my fatigues.
Much criticism can rightfully be launched at military food, but one thing the mess hall got right was breakfast. Take a plate the size of a galvanized trash can lid. Pile onto it a scoop of grits, two over easy eggs, a biscuit with sausage cream gravy and a strip of bacon. Now, grab your knife and fork and mix it all together until it looks like a failed endeavor in reanimation. Liberally shake Tabasco or Texas Pete on top and dig in. That shit would kill me, now... ?
Once off post, I learned the ways of southern dining. One restaurant, I think it was called Ms. Mattie's in the town of Hinesville, just outside the gates of the base. She made two dishes per day, always "home cooked", never fancy.
Corn bread, greens, black eyed peas, chicken, meatloaf, catfish, fresh pies. Good old fashioned Colombian coffee that you had to chew...
Now, being in Texas for 22 years, I don't believe there is a single solid food item I've not had on a tortilla. The sheer number of taco trucks dispersed across the landscape is mind boggling. The ones held together with duct tape and staffed by non-English speaking persons are the ones you seek.
If it walks on four hooves, it has been dissected, seasoned, grilled and offered on corn or flour. Only a gringo wants flour unless it's a breakfast taco.
There's always the choice of red or green salsa. They are never the same. The green ones have a 50% chance of making you sterile. ?
Always get the fresh pico de gallo and cilantro. Most also include a lime wedge to squeeze on top, however, I prefer to pass on that.
Traveling just east of Austin, into Elgin, one will encounter several sausage producers battling for supremacy. A pork/beef link with jalapeno and cheddar built in is my personal favorite. Should I die prematurely due to cardio related issues, these cholesterol bombs will surely be the cause.
I spent two years in Portland, Oregon before coming to Texas. While most of my diet during that period was drugs and alcohol, I do remember fondly Shelly's Honkin' Huge Burritos.
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These were appropriate nutrition both before and after severe alcohol abuse. She had a great side table next to her cart with dozens of different and interesting hot sauces to try. She was located right on the town square. Sadly, she closed up shop a few years ago. But she made her mark and even has her own "holiday" in Portland.
During Desert Storm, we trained next to some "local" forces for a while. While we were enjoying yet another case of MRE's, it was interesting to see how their supply line worked. One day, they got fruit, vegetables, cheese, bread and live chickens. They had fruit, bread and cheese for breakfast, roast chicken for lunch and chicken stew for dinner. The next day was the same, except the chickens were replaced with goats. They alternated between the two daily. We were quite jealous...
I have to make an honorable mention of New Mexico. I've never lived there, but, when moving from Oregon to Texas, I took a Greyhound to Phoenix, then bicycled through the desert in winter to Texas. My first stop in New Mexico resulted in a big bowl of Green Hatch Chile Pork Stew for breakfast. It was so freakin' awesome, I refused to eat anything else for the duration of my time in the state. Every stop had some. Each place made it a bit differenty, of course, but it was always great. Every year, when the Hatch Chiles come in, I try to grab some and recreate that dish.
I could talk about food all night, but I think I'll go make a sandwich... ?
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