“I’m hungry. Can someone please help me? Please. This is serious. I haven’t eaten since early this morning. Please.” The plea came from a diminutive man I had just rushed passed on 8th Avenue in New York City. He was wearing a grey cap pulled down over his forehead and held a tattered white plastic shopping bag. It was 12:30 a.m. A hard March wind was blowing through Chelsea and everyone who passed this pleading man, was hurrying to someplace warm, including me.
I had just eaten at one of my favorite joints Casa Mono. I started with the pulpo with fennel and grapefruit and followed with the dorada with artichokes and langostinos (the langoustine tail meat was a bit mushy but still flavorful.) My belly was full and I still had the glow of a quarto of solid Spanish red.
For a reason I still do not know, after getting a few steps past this man, who was all but invisible to passers-by, I stopped and waited for him to catch up. When I offered a dollar bill to him, he said, “No man, didn’t you hear, I’m hungry. This is no joke. I don’t want money. I’m just very hungry.” “Really, no bullshit?” I said.
Sandwiches
The Perfect Sandwich
A Sandwich Classic: PB & J
I have to admit – as much as I love trying new recipes – there are times when nothing quite compares to the satisfying goodness of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Some days there's just no time for chopping, grilling, or baking and a classic PB & J is the perfect solution.
According to Smuckers, no one really knows when or where this sandwich was first created. Bread and jelly have been around for ages, but peanut butter wasn't invented until 1890. This spreadable creation was a hit at the 1904 World's Fair in St. Louis, and during the 1920s and 1930s, commercial brands of peanut butter such as Peter Pan and Skippy were introduced. Around the same time, pre-sliced bread became common in the U.S. But there's no mention of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches before the 1940s.
The National Peanut Board reports that the average kid eats 1,500 peanut butter and jelly sandwiches before graduating from high school. They're not just for kids – I've often been on airline flights, when a waft of peanut butter drifts my way, and I turn to see some business exec pull out a Ziploc bag from a briefcase and enjoy a pb & j out – much to the envy of fellow passengers. You can also take comfort in knowing you're helping to save the planet!
Cheese Steak Phanatic

I am from Philadelphia, and when I meet someone who isn’t from
Philadelphia they always say “Oh! You are from Philadelphia. You must
love cheese steaks,” because this is the only thing people know about
Philadelphia.
Cheese steaks are embedded into the national imagination as “Philly
food,” or “Philly phood” (mad men dreaming up ad campaigns for local
Philadelphia business or sports teams love to replace “f” with “ph”
whenever possible). Philadelphians bear this and other burdens
patiently, but at a certain point, even the most sanguine lose their
cool. How many times have I weathered cheese steak-related questions
with the same bottled response, which is: the secret to a great cheese
steak is the bread, and the secret to the bread is the water, and the
water has to be Philadelphia water because otherwise it doesn’t taste
quite right.
Two Ways of Looking at a Sandwich
Since I photograph at least 50% of what I cook and bake, just in
case I might someday wish to write about it and preserve an ephemeral
cupcake or casserole for posterity, my camera is always where I can
easily find it. Today, however, my camera was at a Minor League
baseball game with Sam, after a prolonged series of
“pleaspleasepleasei’llbe caaaaaaaaareful!” attacks wore me out. It
didn’t occur to me until after we had eaten what I considered to be an
interesting lunch that I could have photographed it using my phone – I
just scrapped the whole project when I remembered that my camera was on
walkabout among a herd of sugar-addled sixth graders.
I had made really good sandwiches based on things lying around the house: leftover whole grain buns, two different kinds of cheese with hot peppers, pulled pork with barbecue sauce, an abandoned avocado…stuff like that. Mr. Annie got two giant sandwiches piled high with pork, Cabot Habanero Cheddar and avocado, and I made myself a more modest vegetarian model with no pork and a healthy pile of spicy alfalfa sprouts. Alas, these gems of thrifty husbandry were doomed to slip away (literally and figuratively), unmarked.
What's Your Favorite Chicken Sandwich?
How did chicken sandwiches become so popular in the U.S.? Supply and demand. The emergence of large scale chicken processing companies such as Perdue and Tyson in the 1920’s and 1930’s respectively, helped propel chicken’s popularity in America. With such easy availability, chicken prices decreased, consumption increased, and chicken became a steady part of the American diet.
With many families cooking whole chickens, leftovers became standard lunch fare. Sliced leftover chicken meat became a favorite filling for sandwiches (and was the original filling for the classic club sandwich).
Fast food chicken sandwiches as we know them originated in 1967, when Truett Cathy, founder of the Atlanta based restaurant chain Chick-fil-A, introduced the chicken sandwich -- a perfectly crispy-on-the-outside, juicy-on-the-inside breaded boneless breast of chicken served on a toasted buttered bun with dill pickle chips. Whether it's fact or fiction, Cathy claimed that pickles were the only condiment he had on hand, and to his delight, were a big hit with consumers. Other fast food chains quickly followed suit. Then in the late 1980's and early '90's the grilled chicken sandwich emerged as a healthier alternative to the fried original.
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