Okay, I admit

I have been more than remiss.  Criminal, really.  Isn't there a blog police?  

As my non-communication might attest, I have been introspective of lately.  Or, more like . . . intromural.  As I cleanse my new apartment of bedbugs . . . Ewww.  Yes, the nasty lil' critters have taken up habitation with me.  And they must be purged. 

I notice that to a large extent my blog has been about food.  Everything has been homecooking as of late.  I promise a St. Louis style pizze 'splosion soonish - more like T-day. Turkey Day.  Thanksgiving time.  

It was a dark and stormy Thursdsay

I have been remiss.  

I know.  

I've been busy.  School has started and there is lots to do.  Most of it involving me, the library and a photocopy machine.  Hence, there has not been a lot of Missouri Experience Project.  

I did, however, go to Costco.  It took us twice.  The first time we shaved the arrival time too close and then messed up on the freeways.  BUT as we headed across the Ole Miss to E. St. Louis (anybody seen National Lampoon's Vaca?) we did see the most ghetto-pimptastic school buses ever.  They were lit up like a moving discotheque.  And one of them was towing a fine looking SUV.  Costco was closed by the time we got there. So we went and had fantastic Vietnamese.  Deepfried spicy tofu tossed with lemongrass and other exotica.  The tofu were little puff balls of perfect frying technique.  A thin layer of crunch that then exploded into a luscious soft cream.  I am drooling as I write this.  Then I had bun with charbroiled pork and crispy springrolls.  Ah, more drool.  The pork was an ungodly red color, but tasted like the little piggy had been forcefed ginger, garlic and chiles its whole piggy life.  How else could little bits of meat taste so intense.  So, I have found decent ethnic.  Yet the ultimate ethnic food eludes (and I blame only myself) - St. Louisian.  

Trip number two was more successful.  Red vines and Diet Dr. Pepper were purchased.  The fuel of all champion academics (so I tell myself).  And as we left, armageddon fell down upon us.  Like the wind picked up and blew off a stapler.  Yes, a stapler.  We made it back safe n' sound.

Now I'm off to enjoy this dark and brooding day.  By brooding in a dark way. 

Meat, meat, meat

So, I think that I may begin a photo-essay of meat sections in local St. Louis grocery stores.  A visual anthropological - social exploration of the intersection between 1) economics 2) cuisine and 3) neighborhood community. 

For example.  Same grocery chain, two different locations. 

1) Ground turkey breast, lamb (ground, chops etc.), decent parts of the pig and cow.  Decent as in - not guts.  Your standard organic/angus ground beef with all the range of fat percentage from 80 to 93.  Chicken breasts, lots of them. 

2) Tripe, pig trotters, an entire smoked meat section, the fattest-loveliest cuts of pig steak and beef steak I've ever seen, 1/4 (of a cow) slab cuts of brisket, 5 pound packages of ground beef (60-73 percent fat, no extra lean on display here.  Let's be honest, not even vaguely lean on display here.).  Lamb - nope.  Ground turkey breast - nope.  Poultry breast bits in general are not the majority - more turkey thighs and chicken thighs then you can shake a stick at. 

Hmmmmm.  Let's see - what kind of neighborhoods do you think these two different stores serve?  You'd probably be right. 

I've got to start dragging my camera along on these adventures.  I know I know.  We live in a visual culture now.  Reading is too hard.  Tough (for now). 

A Payback is owed

So, all of you out there that have been salivating at my eating St. Louis cuisine will be repayed in full. With pictures, mind you.

I owe somebody something. Om nom nom, as they say.

FYI (not meaning to offend anyone), but I miss the good old days when commies were commies and we were renegade proud democrats. I mean the Olympics just don't have the same oomph if I can't surreptiously root for the 'other side'. I had a platonic crush on Katarina Witt. (I was always more of a winter voyeur). I hated her for defeating Debbie for the gold at Sarajevo, but spent several hours post-broadcast attempting to recreate on dry land her skater-ific Carmen.

1984 Los Angeles. It was momentous because it followed the non-appearance of our nation in 1980. And it was always about the Eastern Germans. But, really - consider what that really means. We were traumatized athletically by communists from a very small country. Many of them from half of a city. Half of a city. Politically and Historically important, but still . . . small, really small.

And we've never really reconciled our national fascination/distruct of Bella Karyoli. And Nadia . . . there is still no competition. But when Mary Lou hit that vault landing, it was thrilling. My parents had moved a mattress downstairs in front of the tv (thank god for their forbearance and patience with my antics) so that I could bounce along. I still prefer Nadia's stoicism to any perky americana, but she was the 'enemy'. In the end, I still say Go commies - but that's beside the point.

Final Thought: Is Michael Phelps not human? He just set the pace for some sort of crazy world record setting relay - like 5 secs under the current world record. He's 5 gold medals for 5, ALL OF THEM WORLD RECORDS. Wtf.

This is it.

Today in the mail I received a postcard. A postcard of destiny.

From Imo's pizza. The 'original st. louis style' pizzeria. Serving it up real style to the fine folks of St. Louis.

But, darn, cracker-crust and provel don't come cheap. A medium two topping is 9.99. And it goes up from there.

I'm tempted to order. Yet - shucks, I just put a pot of chile verde on the stove. I guess I'll just have to wait.

But time is not on my side. The postcard says that I only have until Sept. 30 to take advantage of their offer. For now, it is an offer I can refuse.

tick tock tick tock

Today. A Day like most other days.

I'm beginning to believe that I live in some strange land where everything takes twice as long. A fairy land of 'hurry up and wait.' Or, maybe this is just midwest living?

I spent a lot of time on the phone today with lots of different people to try and fix my internet. Its not really fixed, but the consensus seemed to be 'well, if that's the way it is. that's the way it is.'

Also, my on-again, off-again relationship with Charter is . . . on-again. This time its the crazy-making buzzy hum that emits from my tv, but only when I'm watching cable.

And I still have water damage, and no word on when 1) roof will actually be fixed and 2) when yucky icky stainage on the walls will be a thing of the past.

Did I tell y'all about Mortimer? He was the cockroach I killed the other night. A bloody huge one. I measured him post-mortem. 1.5 inches of buggy carapace. Antenna another 2 or more inches.

Sigh. Its enough to make a girl miss southern Italy. The weather was actually nicer in Naples. And the pizza was tasty and cheap and not 'snot on a cracker'. And everyone expects everything to take twice as long, so you can be pleasantly surprised when it doesn't. And even tho' there was garbage - I never saw a cockroach/rat the whole two weeks (a better comparative average than the two weeks here.)

Oh, and not to be all complainy - but my shuttle bus is kind of scary. Like there was a crack or meth addict on it this morning (with sores), and on the ride home (at 11:30 am) one nice lady had already gotten her drink on. Mmm, yessir. I don't think I've ever smelled public transportation so redolant with spirits. At least, I am willfully hoping that it was the lady and not the bus driver.

It takes a village

Today I went to the grocery store.   It became an adventure in community trust building.  

1) For the record, the temperature outside with humidity is something like 101. 

2) That humidity could crush a bear into little bear bits. 

3) I missed the first shuttle bus. 

4) I had to go to the nicer Schnuck's (note for non-St. Louisians, this is equivalent to Shaws or Safeway or QFC or Stah-market)

5) I missed the shuttle bus. 

6) So, up pulls a nice SUV with Debby - the nicest person ever !!  Seriously.  She picks up a stranger on a realllly hot day and drives me home.  Yes, this was not necessarily the smartest move on either of our parts.  But - I no look gift SUV air conditioned ride to my house in mouth (whatever that would be). 

7)  I get out of car and nice Quadrangle housing guy rushes over to help me carry groceries to door. 

8) Then nice next door neighbor makes point of holding and propping door. 

I'm sure this is all a heat-induced mirage.  I am probably lying on the side of the road halfway home, having started out and then fallen prey to the heat.  I've probably eaten my pork loin roast raw and am now crawling pathetically along the searing sidewalk trailing my groceries as a I go.  Debby probably doesn't exist.  The Quadrangle guy is probably someone stealing my groceries as I crawl.  I can't explain the nice next door neighbor. 

All I can say is - what a lucky girl am I .  And thanks to all those that made the homeward bound leg of my grocery journey pleasantly eventful. 

Surprise St. Louisian Celebrities (see told ya)

I live a block off the Delmar Loop.  The loop contains amongst many other things the St. Louis Walk of Shame . . . I mean Walk of Fame. 

Here are a few tantalizing tidbits.  Bet you didn't know the following were St. Louisians: 

Josephine Baker 

Vincent Price 

Joseph Pulitzer

Marlin Perkins 

Kevin Kline

There are more.  I just don't know them / haven't crossed the street yet (yeah yeah, I'm working on that). 

Maybe tonight I'll try a St. Louis Pizza.   Ha ha. . . or maybe Thai food.

Ahhh, how sweet

Charter Communications sent me a Hallmark Greeting card.  A sort of "Sorry, we love you, we won't abuse you again" kind of business card.  Do I take them back?  Do I repeat old patterns? 

On the front a man dressed in business attire and a blonde girl-child in pink shorts do the hullahoop side by side.  Caption reads, "Wishing you time to enjoy what matters most".  What if my husband and child (blonde girl-child perhaps) had both been killed in a tragic accident involving a circus clown, a lion and a hullahoop.  Wouldn't this have sent me over the edge.  Or what if the business guy is stalking the little blonde girl-child . . . ewwwww.  

I guess I'm not a fan of the Business Hallmark Greeting.  

Coming up next (like right next, like now): Surprise St. Louisian Celebrities 

Sticky

It is hot.  Outside, that is.  Inside, I've decided to give in and crank up the AC.  

It is 90 degrees.  More like 700 degrees when you factor in the sticky moistness that is humidity. 

Supposedly the mercury is going to rise.  

I need to do laundry.  But that would mean I have to go outside. 

I need to get groceries.  But, again, outside.  I don't need fresh fruits and veggies anyways.  Right? 

I can always order me up a pizza. 

Other Than Mizzura

Where have I been?  Not in St. Louis.  Rather in other places, that is other than Mizzura. 

Cork, Dublin, Naples, Pompei(i) and then Naples (again). 

Ireland was great, but freezing cold.  

Highlights from Naples/Pompei include (but are not limited to):

Getting into the basement of the Museo Nazionale.

Getting locked in the basement of the Museo Nazionale.

Having the proprietor of the restaurant (where I had the best pasta ever - roasted eggplant, tomato-gorgonzola sauce.  Dear lord it was tasty) decide to defend his honor.  With a large serrated knife.

Getting into the storage area of Pompei. 

Staying in a Hotel-Motel that rents rooms by the hour.  

Watching the bats (pipistrelli) swoop down on the pool at said 'hotel' by night.  

Leaving said 'hotel' early. 

Having the next door neighbors at the boutique hotel in Naples have a knock down, drag out 7 hour Neapolitan family drama.  What this means is lots of screaming, lots of slammed doors, crying child and threats of 'I'm going to kill you'.  Or to be more precise 'I'm going to kill you in a messy way (amazzare not uccidere - look it up).

Finding the glory that is Italian Amy Winehouse = Giusy Ferreri.  Non ti scordar mai di me. 

No more 'foreign' posts, back soon to the foreign land that is St. Louis.   And no, I've still not had St. Louis style pizza.  I'm on a break from pizza anyways.

Sandwich Time (jazz hands)

The culinary culture of St. Louis is replete with many variations of the sandwich.  A noble snack, a hearty dinner, a good anytime munchie.  These, however, are not your mobile sandwiches for the most part.  Knives and forks seem to be de rigueur.   Bread as a conveyor of tasty sandwich innards merely acts as a discrete covering or a pedestal for the display of all that tasty . . . meat n' stuff.   Two of these bad boys celebrate the openface with aplomb. And no, I haven't eaten any of these yet.  But I will, except for number 4. 

 

1) The Gerber - a relative latecomer, 1970's or so.  Like Provel/St. Louis Cracker Pizza this comes from down off the 'Hill' - oh, wait there is provel involved.  It is relatively simple, and served openface:  loaf of french bread sliced, spread with butter/garlic butter, pile high with thin shaved ham, top with provel, bake until bubbly/melty.  This is said to be proprietary to Ruma's Deli . . . so, don't go trying to name your openface cheesy-ham melt a Gerber.  

2) The Prosperity - an earlier openface (and not much seen apparently of late).  Origins are at the Mayfair Hotel, circa 1920s:  on top of two slices toast pile turkey and ham, cover with cheese sauce, toast and then top with bacon.  I believe that after the advent of Provel (the messiah of St. Louis cheese culture - BP and AP?), the tasty combo non-cheese became involved.  Can you hear your heart valves pumping a little more strenuously?

3) The St. Paul - no, not Minnesota.  This one is gross/amazing all at the same time.  A specialty of the Chinese restaurants, who were apparently attempting to meet the needs of a sandwich obsessed city:  make an egg foo young patty including bean sprouts and minced onions, fry it up good, put it on Wonder Bread (this is critical) with a slathering of mayo, accoutrements include usually lettuce, tomato and dill pickle.  Behold!!

Behold, again!

4) The Brain Sandwich - here the moniker is descriptive.  Calf brain, sliced, deep fried. On white bread.  Pickles optional.  This is a sad victim of Bovine Spongiform Encephalopathy - or rather, people don't want to eat this and then become a victim of BSE.  This is not a 'St. Louis' unique sandwich, rather it was a favorite of German immigrants with happy access to stockyard left0vers.   Evansville, Indiana, and the Ohio Valley more generally also maintain a fond/strong connection to the spongy, crunchy combo.  Still served at some local establishments like Ferguson's. Young children, vegetarians and the sensitive of stomach avert your eyes:

Nothing to do With Mizzura

Um, Facebook seems confused about my gender. Here verbatim the recent 'note' I received: 

"Which example applies to you?

Right now your Mini-Feed may be confusing.  Please choose how we should refer to you.

Melissa edited her profile. 

Melissa edited his profile."

I was tempted to choose option 2, but then I thought - no, Facebook deserves my serious answer. I don't want to continue the obvious confusion (??!!!??) about my gender.  Sorry to any Facebook friends who were momentarily confused by my obviously gender-boundary crossing profile edit.  

I am a girl.  I swear.

The "Not Cheese"

So, I promised you Provel.  This is a locally consumed and loved processed cheese product.  According to the FDA it is not cheese - its moisture point is all crazy.  

What is it? It is an amalgam of provolone, cheddar and swiss.  It stays 'softer' at room temp.  When melted and you bite into, there are no strings.  Critics claim a greasy/oily/chemical feel.

Why?  Apparently it was 'invented' to fill a gapping need for another St. Louis original - St. Louis style pizza.  They wanted a cheese that had a clean bite (no cheesy strings, well . . . its not really cheese).  This natural-unnatural hybrid was concocted in Costa Grocery on the 'Hill' sometime in the 50's.  

And now we come to the other great mystery - St. Louis Pizza, the unholy marriage of provel and . . . cracker crust. 

Yes, you heard right - here's a description.  The base of the pizza is an unleavened cracker, piled with your toppings of choice and then provel.  The round pie is then cut into squares.  Its a cracker with cheese, round-n-square.  Imo's Pizzeria is apparently king of the pie. 

I find descriptions of the taste (no, I haven't tried it yet) - equal parts intriguing and terrifying.  The sauce is sweet.  The unique flavor/texture of provel adds a 'sour' note.  Again, salt is a predominant note.  The crust is well . . . a cracker, 'saltine' is often used as a descriptive reference.  

I will try it.  Its just a matter of time and perhaps enough beer.  Next time, weird sandwiches and the city that loves them. 

Living the Loop

Okay, that is perhaps an overstatement.  I've only really been to the Starbucks.  And had a sandwich at Brandt's.  Oh, and I went to the Post Office.  But. . . the loop is a happening place (see official website for details of its happening-ness: www.visittheloop.com). 

Things / Places that intrigue me:

Tivoli Theater - appears to be the only Landmark Theater in St. Louis ( I may be wrong).  It was built in 1924, closed in 1994 but was resurrected.  Kind of like Jesus - but then it didn't have to do that whole 'on the cross' thing.  I don't know, maybe it did.

Riddles Penultimate - sheesh, both great/irritating name.  Supposedly its a restaurant/wine bar.  The food is acclaimed to be fantastic.  There is a lot of local sourced happy pigs and such on the menu.  

Thai Pizza.  Enough said.  Maybe this one will stay on my 'never ate there, kind of scary, what the $%#* is a Thai pizza'.  

Saleem's - on the corner.  It claims to serve Lebanese food for those that love garlic.  And it has Pabst Blue Ribbon Draught specials - 1 dollar all Thursday night. 

Blueberry Hill - is huge.  Its a restaurant.  I think.  And a bar.  I think.  And maybe also a music venue.  It takes up a whole block with its Blueberry colored walls.  It serves both deep fried ravioli and trout almondine.  And they do all day breakfast.  I don't know how I feel about this one.

Brandt's - a little too perky, but has sidewalk seating and serves one of the most extensive Belgian beer menus I've ever run across.  With Lambic on tap. 

Cicero's - another 'do everything, be everything' place.  This time with Italian food. 

Melting Pot - Yup, fondue.  But this is not your momma's 1970's fondue.  They do fancy things with that bubbling pot of goodness.  And it is not cheap. 

HBS Tobacconist - yes, a real oldskool tobacco shop.  Here was a scene I enacted I like to call Little 1930's Mel:  "Can I get some matches, sir?  The pilot light on me stove has gone out."  Yes, smoking is allowed here.  Anybody remember "Smoking or non-smoking?" upon entering a restaurant?  Well, you can relive it here.

Starclipper - its current window display includes Ugly Dolls of allll sizes and colors.  I mean colors and sizes I never even dreamt of.  Makes me miss my Uglies.  And want to buy more.  Mwahahaha. 

Coming soon - meditations on Provel.  You'll just have to wait to find out.

Why I hate Cable Companies

I'm getting to know the awfully friendly folks over at Charter Communications very very well.  Perhaps, too well.  My lovely new cable landline does not work.  And all the technicians with all their tech know-how couldn't put Melissa's landline back together again.

I wait with baited breath.  I have another date tomorrow.  Maybe this time it will go past telephone first base - which would mean that it works for longer than 3 hours. 

Sigh.  

Wash U is nice tho'.  My promised pics will be up soon - the camera has to charge.

Addendum. 

Advice/Observation from my Grandpa (he's a Kentucky boy).  

"You should get yo'self a nice Mizzura boy.  They are hill-billy types, and so good people."  

Wise words.  wise words.  For now I'll stick with the one I've got, but good to know your options.

Hmmm.  My first blog. Ever.  A momentous moment.  I'm sure this has been observed before.  Okay, so this is for my friends/significant others (you know who you are)/relatives and the random stray that makes it here. 

I am going to record my time in Missouri.  I'm on day 2.  

So far, I am still alive.  The natives have not eaten me, yet.  Originally from Seattle (close enough) and then transplanted to Boston (for more years than are necessary to count), I find myself in the 'middle'.  With no major ocean to run to in case of emergency, or away from in case of emergency.

Tomorrow, I shall review my 'hood.  University City, a stone's throw away from Delmar and the 'The Loop'.