Old Grand-Dad

Épicerie Jean-Alfred Moisan
Oldest grocery store in North America

Épicerie Jean-Alfred Moisan, North America's oldest grocery

Épicerie Jean-Alfred Moisan, North America's oldest grocery

Épicerie J. A. Moisan is a historic grocery store hidden in plain sight in a row of trendy shops and eateries on rue Saint-Jean in Québec City’s Upper Town. Before A&Ps grocer apron was even a bib, Jean-Alfred Moisan was selling imported and high-end foodstuffs and alcoholic beverages to the wealthy citizens of Québec from the red brick storefront he opened in 1871.  The store was passed through several generations of the Moisan clan until it was sold off in 1978; it changed hands again permanently in 1999. The building itself dates back several centuries, having been renovated in the latter part of the last one to restore and retain the magic of a day gone by.

A black wooden sign with gold leaf lettering hangs above the portal to yesteryear; there’s no garish neon or back-lit plastic to detract from the sensation of visiting Monsieur Moisan to inquire what epicurean comestibles have arrived from the four corners of the earth for your culinary enjoyment. What appears to be the original storefront sign hangs from the wood-paneled ceiling in the middle of the room that hosts the charcuterie; chapeau-topped staff man the slicers and scales behind the meat cases, preparing and packaging your selections. Prepare to feel like a kid in a candy store (or at least a carnivore in a butcher shop) – the glass cases are your window to a magical world populated with exotic sausages, cured hams, salami, pâtés and luncheon meats. Across the wooden floor, a refrigerated case holds a dizzying array of cheeses appropriate for virtually any gastronomic application (don’t feel like slicing your own raclette cheese? J. A. Moisan has you covered).

Charcuterie!

Charcuterie!

The back of the store is lined with shelves and refrigerators (obviously modern conveniences) brimming with local and imported beer and wine (you can even get absinthe if you know where to look); a wooden island in the middle of the area is stocked with olive oils and marinades. Around the store, glass display cases hold items that haven’t been available for decades making J. A. Moisan part grocery, part museum. In one corner, a faded 8×10 photo of Joan Crawford hangs autographed with a word of thanks for supplying her with cosmetics.

Everything you would expect to find at a full service grocery is here; the left side of the store features an alcove with bins, canisters and hoppers filled with teas and coffees from around the world. Offset shelves form an obstacle course through which you gain extra points filling your basket with crackers, cookies, biscuits, candies, licorice, chocolates, baked goods, preserves, pickles, sauces, and food items that are limited only by your imagination. While shopping, it’s easy to forget what century is whizzing past on the avenue on the other side of the lace-curtained windows. Although the store isn’t very large, you can easily find yourself lost for hours; it’s often difficult to tell what is an artifact and what is for sale. You’ll be pleased to know that the rather exotic and fancy cans and boxes in the sealed glass cabinet holding truffles and foie gras are for sale.

Paper or plastic?

Paper or plastic?

All fixtures (except the refrigerated cases) in the store are befitting of the establishment’s proud lineage; globe lights and ceiling fans hang from silver tin ceilings; shelving, furniture and glass cases all appear to be antique mahogany; counter-tops are lavishly finished in marble. If you decide that you are unable to resist the temptation of consuming your purchases before you get back to your hotel or place of residence, J. A. Moisan has provided marble-topped cafe tables and chairs in an alcove where you can shamelessly devour the spoils of your shopping foray beneath the stuffed and mounted tarpon that sadly is inedible.

The city of Québec itself is a quaint and magical place, evoking the charm of European antiquity, and Épicerie Jean-Alfred Moisan is a small yet precious jewel in the treasure chest of the city’s rich and illustrious history. I wouldn’t be surprised if your purchases are placed in a plastic bag as a way to slowly re-acclimatize you to the 21st century as you venture back out into the street.

Épicerie Jean-Alfred Moisan
699, rue Saint-Jean
Québec, QC G1R 1P7
GPS Coordinates: 46°48’37.68″N 71°13’8.04″W

GALLERY: See images from Val’s visit to Épicerie Jean-Alfred Moisan, North America’s oldest grocery store

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Here’s Johnny

Johnny Pacific
Winnetka, California

The unassuming Johnny Pacific in Winnetka CA

The unassuming Johnny Pacific in Winnetka CA

John Walquist was born into the food service industry and grew to love surfing; almost a decade ago he merged those two methodologies into a modest and casual establishment whose gruff exterior in a miniature strip mall belies the fusion cuisine within. The decor is island surf, with photos of tropical waves flanking a plasma screen playing video of hotdoggers dropping into the pipeline; an old wooden surfboard stands at attention near the counter. The chalkboard wall serves as the menu, displaying a variety of tropically-inspired dishes available with tributes to cuisines around the Pacific Rim, dishes featuring mango and coconut, satay skewers and fruit-infused salads. The real draw to Johnny Pacific, however, is their self-proclaimed, number one-rated empanadas. With at least fourteen meat and vegetarian empanadas to choose from and a handful of desert empanadas, making a selection requires some thought.

These aren’t your diminutive South American-style empanadas we’re talking about – these hand-made pastries are almost the size of your hand and are liberally stuffed with a variety of fillings, some rather surprising. The crust is thick without strong-arming the dish, and for the most part they’re crispy and not the slightest bit soggy. The sealed edges feature thick pleating that make a plate of these savory pies look like a herd of stegosaurs, which is appropriate since the empanadas are so substantial you’d need to bring the appetite of a velociraptor (I recommend getting at least four and sharing).

Most, if not all of Johnny Pacific's empanadas

Most, if not all of Johnny Pacific's empanadas

Although the sans-animal flesh options are listed as “vegetable” empanadas, most of these also contain cheese (including one that only contains cheese); there didn’t seem to be a variety in taste in regards to the cheese – it all tasted like a mild Monterey Jack. In the vegetable category, there were some standouts and some that didn’t quite hit the mark; the spinach and cheese was crammed with fresh spinach that still had some texture to it and a fresh flavor that was not overshadowed by the melted cheese. The mushroom empanada was earthy and smoky with big, fat chunks of fungus lending an almost meaty taste, while the corn empanada boasted roasted corn kernels that smelled and tasted like they just came out of the smoker at the county fair (although the accompanying chopped poblano peppers and caramelized onions merely presented themselves in a minor supporting role). I was a little disappointed with the grilled veggie empanada – it really only appeared to feature asparagus and red bell pepper, and even though the proliferation of chopped garlic and onion helped, the pastry as a whole seemed a little lackluster.

A cross-section of some of Johnny Pacific's empanadas

A cross-section of some of Johnny Pacific's empanadas

In the meat category, the options are diverse – there are two chicken empanadas on the menu: a savory ground chicken and a pollo al pastor. The former had the texture of ground beef and was perfectly spiced, approximating the best South American empanada in taste, yet even though the latter featured cubes of flame grilled yard bird the taste was lost among the other ingredients. The ham and cheese was another that seemed to be vanquished by the cheese, which outnumbered the pig in the empanada by about two to one. Although ample cups of dipping sauces (basil aioli, chimichurri, chipotle, barbecue, and sweet and sour Thai) were provided, the flavors of the empanadas stood well alone, although the ham and cheese needed some barbeque sauce to ramp up the flavor a bit.

Another cross-section of empanadas

Another cross-section of empanadas

The ground beef empanada had a rich, savory tongue that hinted at cumin (although we were told that it is flavored with powdered vegetable soup mix) and had a subtle nod to a modest application of tomato.  Unfortunately the pulled pork empanada fell a little flat; the bottom of the pie was somewhat soggy, probably due to the inclusion of barbeque sauce inside. Although it was moist, it was also a bit mushy and somewhat bland, failing marginally in the spice department. The Cajun representative carried itself well, with big chunks of zesty Andouille sausage taking the lead in a pie bolstered with pepper, onion and the omnipresent Jack cheese.

Kailua pork empanada

Kailua pork empanada

I reserved the remaining three for last since they provided the taste experience I want to remember Johnny Pacific for. The braised Kailua pork was exemplary; the sweet, smoky flavor evoked the taste of pig flesh pulled right off the animal as it sat on hot rocks in the sand and the spicy follow-through was memorable. Although similar in appearance to the pulled pork it had a little more resistance to the teeth and was plump, moist and bursting with flavor. The chorizo and potato empanada had a 50/50 blend of the main ingredients; although I feared the potato would steal the show, the chorizo provided a strong contrast and had a wonderful kick without any of the grittiness that sometimes accompanies substandard sausage. By far, the best of show was the beef tinga, and outstanding chipotle-infused meat dish that smelled intoxicatingly dessert sweet (most likely from the inclusion of a hint of brown sugar). The beef nuggets had a muscle fiber texture but weren’t chewy or gristle-bound; this will definitely be my first selection of choice on my return visit.

A chocolate coconut dessert empanada

A chocolate coconut dessert empanada

Although Johnny Pacific seems to be a Jack of all Pacific Ocean trades in search of an identity, you will undoubtedly enjoy discovering what that identity is as you sample a variety of their hearty and filling empanadas. More power to you if you manage to save enough room for their sweet dessert empanadas; moderation is in order if you don’t want to end up like I did in a wipe out, rag dolled after hitting an empanada wall.

Johnny Pacific
7574 Winnetka Avenue
Winnetka, CA 91306
GPS Coordinates:   34°12’28.99″N 118°34’14.26″W

GALLERY: See images from Val’s empanada feast at Johnny Pacific in Winnetka, California

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Kidney Punch

Fish kidney curry at Jitlada Thai Restaurant
Hollywood (Los Angeles), California

Death in a bowl - fish kidney curry

Death in a bowl - fish kidney curry

You could drive past Jitlada several times before you find it, tucked into the elbow of a diminutive strip mall in an unsavory and otherwise unremarkable stretch of Sunset Boulevard. Unfortunately there’s no lava floe or cinder cones to alert you to the fact that you’ve just pulled up to the portal to the realm of Hades on the river Phlegethon; oh, sure, it looks innocent enough – but once you take in the unmistakable aroma of brimstone, you know you’ve arrived. The building’s façade features two yellow signs, one which reads, “Jitlada Restaurant Thai Cuisine” and the other in Thai reading, “Not responsible for third degree burns”. A friend from Austin wanted to meet for dinner and have Thai food close to where he was staying; I suggested Jitlada since I’d heard positive feedback from survivors who had returned from their incendiary lunches and dinners to recommend it with what was left of their blistered tongues.

The Sultan of Hot, Hollywood's Jitlada Restaurant

The Sultan of Hot, Hollywood's Jitlada Restaurant

A neon sign in the front windows advertises “Real Chilis Real Spicy” and like Smokey the Bear, you’d best heed this PSA. The menu is somewhat substantial and I was pleased to see selections I didn’t recognize either by name or ingredients; naturally I gravitated towards the kaeng phûung plaa kûng sàp (fish kidney curry). We started with the Shrimp in Golden Thread (although to me it seemed more like shrimp in golden string); this odd little basket of crustacean takes a decent-sized shelled shrimp and weaves golden noodles around it in a loose cocoon that imprisons it while it is fried to a crackly crunch. The dish is somewhat of an enigma in that the noodles are fried and crispy, yet the entombed shrimp inside is precisely cooked (not white and cold, nor charred). The only drawback to biting into this mouse-sized shrimp nest is that the noodles are so crunchy that they disintegrate all over the plate, leaving you with a shrimp and a few defiant strands of noodles.

A perfectly cooked shrimp entwined in golden noodles

A perfectly cooked shrimp entwined in golden noodles

I was instantly “whited” when ordering the fish kidney curry; I was asked if I wanted it milder (with coconut milk) and warned that it is extremely spicy, and like an idiot wanted the traditional preparation and told her to bring the heat.  As the food was brought to the table, I briefly envisioned the bowl being set down with insulated tongs by service staff in a flame-retardant hazmat suit, but there it was, the square bowl of thick, roux-like lava chock full of exotic vegetables such as bamboo and Thai Green eggplant and partially dissolved bits of shrimp and fish half-submerged in the caustic brew like the Terminator robot. I fished around in the curry for fish kidneys but could find no such animal; apparently my penchant for offal was thwarted by a menu translation faux pas. Before muting the incendiary stew with rice I navigated an eggplant quarter and chunk of shrimp onto the spoon and carefully placed it in my mouth. I thoroughly relished the blend of curry and spices and the thick, hearty texture of the sauce, contrasted with the firm flesh of the eggplant, just prior to the immolation of the inside of my mouth. The pain spread down my throat, rendering speech futile, and yet through the agony the rich, almost erotic flavor of the sauce was not only pleasant, but amplified.

Fire and brimstone delivered to you through the portal to hell in back

Fire and brimstone delivered to you through the portal to hell in back

I imagine the milquetoast version would have had a completely different flavor, and although it may have spared me from going down, down, down in a burning ring of fire for the following two days, I have no regrets ordering the nuclear version (in fact, I took the uneaten portion home in its convenient asbestos-lined container to finish for lunch the following day). Jitlada is legendary for turning the flame up to eleven but I’m not sure where the fish kidney curry sits on the Scoville scale in comparison to their other dishes. The restaurant is divided into two dining rooms, and we had opted to situate ourselves several tables from the open kitchen doorway in the room to the left. Midway through dining I began coughing and my eyes began stinging; I initially thought I was ingesting the fumes from my order, but there seemed to be an invisible cloud of tear gas emanating from the kitchen. I have no idea what some poor bastard ordered that was being concocted in Hell’s Kitchen, but if it had that effect on me in the other room, that diner was in for a special treat and a midnight trip to the emergency room.

I would seriously caution anyone who takes issue with spicy food to avoid Jitlada like the plague; however, if you’re like me and have a difficult time discerning the fine line between pleasure and pain, I can personally vouch for the fish kidney curry as a fine selection for masochistic dining ecstasy. If you’re looking for a second opinion, Satan gives it four stars.

Jitlada Thai Restaurant
5233 W. Sunset Boulevard
Los Angeles, CA 90027
GPS Coordinates:  34° 5’54.52″N 118°18’14.75″W

GALLERY: See images from Val’s fiery visit to Jitlada Thai Restaurant in Hollywood, California

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I Wish I Drove An Oscar Mayer Wiener

The Oscar Mayer Wienermobile

The full monty - RELSHME, the Wienermobile calling California home

The full monty - RELSHME, the Wienermobile calling California home

When I explained to Hotdoggers Itzel “Schnitzel Itzel” Cruz and Kylie “Ketchup Kylie” Hodges that Trippy Food was born of the love of hitting the road less traveled with the search for unusual and interesting food, the response I got was, “What a coincidence – we do both!” The thought of hitting the road IN food never crossed my mind, but running into the Oscar Mayer Wienermobile recently rekindled a childhood desire to experience the mobile hot dog first hand. Contrary to popular belief, the Wienermobile is not a food truck – although the Hotdoggers (the official name given to the aerodynamic sausage’s pilots) hand out promotional materials, including coupons for Oscar Mayer products, they don’t distribute food. In fact, there’s nary a stove or even a microwave oven aboard the 27-foot vehicle. Since Hotdoggers represent the parent company (Kraft), one wonders how they manage meals – the vehicle would be somewhat conspicuous in a Hardee’s drive-through.

Itzel Cruz, one of the Hotdoggers piloting the Wienermobile

Itzel Cruz, one of the Hotdoggers piloting the Wienermobile

The Wienermobile has been an elusive road warrior since Oscar Mayer’s nephew Carl built the first one back in 1936. The original windowless 13-footer was a single-seater, with a hole in the top for navigational purposes; through the decades the Wienermobile has gone through several iterations including a version in 1940 that looked more like a hot rod than a hot dog. The vehicle has been built on several chassis including Dodge and Jeep; one on a Chevy RV body; and, even a 15-foot 2-seater built by Prototype Source on a Mini Cooper S chassis in 2008. The Wienermobile I encountered (RELSHME – “Relish Me”) is one of the longer (27-foot) 2009 models built on a Chevy Truck chassis. I asked co-pilot Itzel Cruz how difficult it was to maneuver a giant hot dog through city streets; she stated that the Wienermobile has a better turning radius than some smaller trucks.

The spacious interior of the Wienermobile

The spacious interior of the Wienermobile

Hotdoggers must undergo an extensive training program before they’re given the keys to the car; beginning in 1988, recruiters began visiting college campuses across the country looking for program participants. Prospective Hotdoggers must submit applications through January for a one year contract which commences in June. Only graduate students are considered, preferably with degrees in communications and advertising due to the nature of the Hotdogger role as wiener ambassador. At each stop, the Hotdoggers greet the public, answer questions, provide photo opportunities, and hand out merchandise including postcards (which are placed in a mailbox to be returned to Oscar Mayer headquarters for mailing) and the beloved Wienerwhistles. The tiny Wienermobile-shaped whistles were a promotional gimmick designed to be blown by excited children (and possibly a few over-excited adults) who witnessed the Wienermobile passing by. The original metal whistle has been replaced by a plastic one resembling the modern Wienermobile, but it’s still small enough to have the same effect as a hot dog to children under the age of two. The Wienerwhistle has become as much of a cultural icon as the Wienermobile itself, even garnering a cameo appearance in the 1994 film, “The Santa Clause“.

The famous Wienerwhistle

The famous Wienerwhistle

Teams of two pilot the Wienermobile to assigned locations in the areas where their particular vehicle calls home. There are currently six of the 27-footers on the road, along with the diminutive Mini and a Wienermobile food truck; each has a name based on their wiener lingo license plate including WEENR, WNRMOBL and BIG BUN. Don’t bother contacting Oscar Mayer for the next appearance of your friendly neighborhood Wienermobile – the locations are tweeted in a similar manner to food trucks. Hotdoggers also maintain a blog about their adventures on the road, although these don’t appear to be updated daily. The web page features a map where you can see which region has a Wienermobile and where the most recent sighting was.

If riding shotbun (the term applied to a Wienermobile ride-along) is your lifelong dream, the wait in line is considerably longer than for Space Mountain. In addition to special trips for groups like the Make a Wish Foundation, Oscar Mayer also occasionally auctions off use of the Wienermobile for a day (occasionally with a hot dog picnic thrown in for good measure) to benefit various charities. The only way to get to drive the dog is to become a Hotdogger, and with the job requirements and scarcity of positions (less than 20 Hotdoggers per given year) in which to place the thousands who apply, the chances are thinner than an all-natural hot dog casing.

Many have dreamed about getting up-close and personal with Oscar Mayer’s motorized wiener, and in the electronic age this has never been easier. With a little patience and dutiful monitoring of the Wienermobile’s twitter feed you can experience the Wienermobile for yourself; now if I could only get an answer to the mystifying hot dog-to-bun ratio conundrum…

GALLERY: See images from Val’s visit to see the Wienermobile as it traveled through Southern California

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McCafe

Irish coffee

Guaranteed to take the chill out of you

Guaranteed to take the chill out of you

First off, there is no Sean Valdez hand picking the finest beans in the coffee plantations along the Twelve Bens with his faithful Irish Draught horse. Irish coffee is a somewhat modern libation, invented in Ireland in the 1940s in County Limerick:

There once was a head chef at Foynes
Who for only a couple of coins
Would rather quite briskly
Mix coffee, cream and whisky
Said New Yorkers who drank it, “It boins!”

I’m sure I’ve taken liberties with the Gaelic pronunciation of the Foynes seaport, but we’ll attribute it to poetic license. Before the opening of Shannon Airport on the flats farther up the port, Foynes was a landing spot for seaplanes and other aircraft; Chef Joe Sheridan came up with the idea to create a drink that warmed passengers disembarking from transatlantic flights on the cold inlet. According to the original “recipe”, Caifé Gaelach added Irish whiskey and sugar to hot coffee and then topped with a thick cream that floated on top. For authentic Irish coffee, the cream is not mixed into the coffee and brown sugar is the preferred sweetener (in fact in 1988, the National Standards Authority of Ireland instituted “ID 268, Irish Standard #417 – Irish Coffee” to describe the proper way to maintain authenticity and integrity of the hot beverage).

It is written in bronze, not stone

It is written in bronze, not stone

Journalist Stanton Delaplane is credited with bringing the drink to the United States, having sampled it on a trip to Ireland while working as a travel writer for the San Francisco Chronicle. Delaplane approached the Buena Vista Cafe to propose they serve the drink, and after several marathon test kitchen runs, the drink familiar to San Franciscans was born on November 10, 1952. Although Tom Bergin’s in Los Angeles also claims to have discovered the drink (as an archaic neon sign out front still suggests), they state somewhat vaguely that they’ve been serving it since the 1950s. Anyone who has been in San Francisco when the cold fog rolls in and wraps itself around you like a misty ice cube would probably agree the drink is more suitable for that clammy clime than sunny SoCal.

The Buena Vista has a slight variation in production than with Sheridan’s drink; the glass mugs are first filed with boiling water and allowed to set for a while to get the mug hot; after the water is poured out glass is partially filled with hot coffee. Where Sheridan used a teaspoon of brown sugar, the Buena Vista drops two white sugar cubes into the mug (along with a shot of Tullamore Dew Irish whiskey) and stirs until dissolved. In the old country, the cream is poured over the back of a spoon raised slightly above the coffee, while the Buena Vista’s technique appears to us the spoon as a baffle. In early experiments the cream would naturally sink to the bottom, but after conferring with a local dairyman the Buena Vista found that frothing the cream after aging it for several days allowed it to rest on top of the coffee.

Topping off the Irish coffee with cream

Topping off the Irish coffee with cream

Watching the production of an Irish coffee at the Buena Vista is a spectacle that today still brings in a crowd; the bartender rarely pours a single coffee. Normally the bar is lined with up to twenty mugs with the bartender working in quick precision to fill them all (a tip is appreciated for this caffeinated spectacular, which is usually done in front of a large crowd). The Buena Vista’s location ensures that it is always packed; located on the corner of Hyde and Beach Streets, they are two blocks from Ghirardelli Square; across the street from the terminus of the Hyde Street cable car line; two blocks from Hyde Street Pier and the maritime museum; and, a brisk walk from Fisherman’s Wharf. The building itself carries some history – built as a boarding house, it was converted to a tavern in 1916. The main dining area is somewhat small; in addition to the old bar, the Buena Vista whips up a great breakfast (just plain coffee is recommended) with standard saloon fare served throughout the day. During most hours of operation getting a table is hard to come by; it’s not uncommon to see people standing over your table waiting for you to finish so they can grab the spot; the after-work crowd fills the joint to standing room only, mostly for drinks.

The Buena Vista, American home to Irish Coffee

The Buena Vista, American home to Irish Coffee

Naturally the Buena Vista is a popular spot on St. Patrick’s Day but when the cold sea air rolls in off the bay on big cat feet, anytime is perfect for warming your innards with Sheridan’s magic elixir. Now if I could only find an Irish kopi luwak…

The Buena Vista Cafe
2765 Hyde Street
San Francisco, CA 94109
GPS Coordinates:  37°48’23.80″N 122°25’14.45″W

GALLERY: See images from Val’s visit to San Francisco’s Buena Vista for Irish Coffee

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