Burrito semantics

As you’ve noted several times, Taco Bell, and Mexican food in general, is often just the same ingredients in different permutations. Why is it then, that you can throw a bunch of red sauce, cheese sauce, etc. on a burrito and it’s still called a burrito (though, to be fair, sometimes called a “wet” burrito)? Shouldn’t this merit an entirely new name? In my mind, much of the simple pleasure of a burrito is the portability and ease of consumption via my hands. When you add sauce, or whatever, that entire dynamic changes, which in my mind necessitates a new name.

Basically, what I’m saying is that I live in fear of eating at a new establishment and ordering a burrito, wondering whether it will show up “wet” or in its usual simple glory. What is your take on this issue, as well as your “wet/dry” preference? Why isn’t this a bigger deal?

MJ Scalese, via email.

This is a good and important question. In at least a couple of places, I’ve seen “wet” burritos billed as “smothered” or “enchilada-style.” But then isn’t that just an enchilada?

No, it turns out it isn’t. Enchiladas are made of corn tortillas, whereas burritos use  wheat. The Wikipedia tells me that to be an enchilada, the tortilla needs to be covered in a chili-pepper sauce, since “enchilada is the past participle of the Spanish verb enchilar, ‘to add chile pepper to.'”

It’s awesome that there’s a verb for that, but none of this helps solve the problem you identify. But you know who does?

That’s right, it’s Taco Bell.

Longtime Taco Bell enthusiasts may remember the Enchirito in its original incarnation, when it was made from a corn tortilla. But since the late 1990s, the Taco Bell Enchirito has been essentially a “wet” or “smothered” or “enchilada-style” burrito, only with a far less confusing and/or cumbersome name.

And since that name is a portmanteau of “enchilada” and “burrito,” it seems to perfectly describe the menu item currently being served as an enchilada-style burrito, no? So get on it, people who own Mexican restaurants that are not Taco Bells: Start naming your stuff after Taco Bell items. Also, start serving MexiMelts. They’re delicious.

 

Two versions of Bobby V’s wrap creation myth emerge

Presumably most of you know by now that former Mets manager and soon-to-be-named Red Sox skipper Bobby Valentine claims to have invented the wrap sandwich. But check it out: Valentine has told at least two different versions of the story that vary slightly.

In a YouTube interview, Valentine says he invented the wrap in 1980 when the toaster at his restaurant was broken and a regular customer ordered a club sandwich for five straight days. In this version of the story, Valentine claims that after five days of trying to make the toaster work, he offered the man a club sandwich wrapped in tortilla, cut into thirds with melted cheese on top. “And from that day on,” he says, “they called it a wrap.”

But in an interview with Ken Hoffman of the Houston Chronicle in 2010, Valentine says he invented the wrap “a few years” after he first opened the restaurant in Stamford in 1980. He again cites the broken toaster, but there’s no mention of the five-day lag for inspiration. And this time, Valentine says, “In the mid-’90s, the Food Network was visiting our restaurant and my manager called the Club Mex a ‘Wrap.’ The name stuck.”

So was it really called a wrap from Day 1, or was that name something that came about years later? These are important semantic details.

I think the people of Boston deserve the real story. Get on it, Dan Shaughnessy.

Also, as for the boldness of the claim: I’m sure Valentine really did think to wrap sandwich stuff in a tortilla out of necessity in a Stamford kitchen on one fateful day, whether it was in 1980 or a few years later.

But I’m equally certain he wasn’t the first to do so. As has been discussed myriad times on this website, the idea of wrapping protein in starch is as nearly as old and as universal as food itself. Just about anyone who has ever claimed to have invented any broad form variety of sandwich has turned out to be incorrect, even John Montagu, the Fourth Earl of Sandwich himself.

There’s still some chance various more specific sandwiches have not yet been conceived, which is pretty much why we beat on in this waking life. And as with many inventions, it’s sometimes fair to credit those that popularized or perfected certain sandwiches even if they weren’t the first to actually create them.

There’s also this, via our man Takashi:

Wendy movin’ on up

Wendy’s could soon surpass Burger King as the nation’s second-largest fast-food burger chain under a strategy that focuses on premium foods and restaurant makeovers, according to an analyst report released Tuesday….

The debut of contemporary prototype restaurants along with a continued focus on food quality are giving Wendy’s the edge it needs to bump Burger King from its No. 2 spot, Kalinowski said during a phone interview Tuesday….

In his report, Kalinowski said he expects Wendy’s to increase sales if it continues to revamp stores with modern fixtures, fireplaces and flat-screen TVs.

Nancy Luna, OC Register.

I’m going to keep choosing Wendy’s over Burger King regardless of where it ranks among fast-food chains, just like I’m going to keep listening to Dark Side of the Moon over Back in Black even if the latter is more popular. But good for the fine people of Wendy’s if and when they do surpass Burger King. They have the superior product; they deserve the recognition. It’s a shame that Dave Thomas never lived to see the day.

The whole article is worth a read if you’re interested in terms like “limited-service hamburger sector,” but obviously the most intriguing part is this talk of the “contemporary prototype” Wendy’s restaurants with flat-screens and fireplaces. Has anyone seen one yet?

Check out what they look like:

Bold Flavors Snack of the Week

This was an inspired one, I think.

Inspired, I should say, by our man Catsmeat, who recommended something he made called a “doughboy” months ago, and by various recent discussions of savory pastries. But also inspired in the same way we say great performances are inspired, as if granted to the actors by some transcendent force that for some reason focuses its divine efforts on pleasing indie-film audiences and art critics.

Anyway, if I was the medium for inspiration in this case, the source was certainly a fridge full of leftovers combined with my wife’s insistence that I put some of them to use before they went bad. And they never went bad. They went well. So, so well.

Presenting: The Chili Doughboy:

Here’s how it went down:

1) Make chili. Serve with cheddar and monterey jack shredded cheese blend, sour cream, and tortilla chips. Enjoy chili with your wife’s family. Receive lots of compliments on chili, because the chili is delicious. Save remaining chili in tupperware in fridge. Also save remaining cheese, sour cream and chips.

2) Plan to make pizza. Buy small ball of pizza dough from local pizzeria. Scrap plans to make pizza. Something else came up.

3) A couple of days later, remove pizza dough from fridge and bring to room temperature. Using kitchen shears, cut pizza dough into quarters. Pre-heat oven to 400-degrees.

4) Stretch out one of the pieces of dough until it is roughly eight inches in diameter and lay it flat. You don’t want the dough to be NY-pizza-style thin.

5) Grab some of that shredded cheese — remember the cheese? — and spread it in the center of the dough, creating a little cheese-bed. I didn’t try it any other way, but I suspect this is important: You’re going to (SPOILER ALERT) put chili on top of the cheese, and I worry that if you put the chili right on top of the dough, the grease from the chili might seep through and jeopardize the structural integrity of the entire thing. The cheese is there to protect against that. It is also delicious cheese.

6) Put chili on top of the cheese. I used about two scoops, using a tablespoon. But not two measured tablespoons — I was just using a regular old tablespoon, like from my silverware drawer, and they were big heaping spoonfuls. Eyeball it. Use whatever you think looks like the right amount of chili for that amount of dough. This isn’t rocket science.

7) OPTIONAL: Crumble a couple of tortilla chips on top of the chili. I say “optional” here because I did it, but in truth it’s completely unnecessary. I was hoping I’d capture some of the magic of Taco Bell’s Crunchy Red Strips, but… well, more on that to follow.

8) Wrap that mother up. Brush with a little bit of olive oil, and dust with salt and chili powder. Repeat if you want more than one.

9) Bake at 400 degrees for 15 minutes, or until the top is lightly browned. You know what cooked things look like. Let cool — these things are hot. You might want to poke a hole in the top with the fork to let some of the steam escape.

10) Eat the Chili Doughboy. I mixed sour cream with sriracha to use as a dip, but it turned out the sriracha part was probably unnecessary. The chili itself was spicy enough that I really didn’t need any more heat. Just the sour cream would have been fine.

Turns out the Chili Doughboy is amazing. And despite all those steps, really easy to make — provided you already have leftover chili. It’s the bread-bowl approach to chili, without even the need for finding a worthy bread bowl (which is always way harder than it feels like it should be). Plus the pizza dough is fresh baked and piping hot, and just a touch sweet, which makes for a nice complement to a spicy chili.

The crumbled tortilla chips did nothing for this. They got lost in the mix with all the other flavors and textures, and I suspect they got sogged down by the chili in the cooking process and didn’t have the crunchifying effect I was hoping for. No matter. What I failed to consider was that the top part of the dough had a nice crust to it, which provided all the crunch this thing needed.

When I next make these — and I’m going to make them again, probably within the next few days because I still have some chili and some dough — I’m going to try making them a bit smaller, closer to appetizer-sized. I think I’m on to something here, you guys.

What I’m thankful for

It’s Thanksgiving, as you probably know. And I am of course thankful for all the awesome things I should be thankful for: My friends and family, my job, the food I’m about to eat, shelter, indoor plumbing, football, etc.

But in addition to those staples, here are three things I’m thankful for this year:

Change I can believe in: Fans are understandably down on the Mets. They’re coming off their third straight losing season, their owners are mired in a very public financial mess, and they might be on the brink of losing to free agency one of the brightest stars the franchise has produced in decades. And that all sucks.

But it’s comforting to know — or to be able to believe, at least — that the Mets’ current front office seems both capable of and dedicated to making the best possible baseball decisions to turn the club into a regular winner. It’s going to take time, of course. And I understand if you don’t believe me — the current front office has been so hamstrung by the decisions of the last one that it hasn’t yet had a lot of flexibility to show what it will do with what should be a big-market payroll. That’s a discussion for another day, though.

Point is, I haven’t yet lost faith in Sandy Alderson and the SABRos, and for that I’m thankful. Maybe there’s some blinders-on optimism in play here, but that’s fine by me: It’s nice to enjoy a sunny outlook about your favorite team’s future for once, and I’ll seize this opportunity as long as I can. If and when they start making short-sighted, reactionary, terrible moves, I’ll lament them. For now, I’m going to celebrate that somewhere in the eye of the ferocious hellstorm of nonsense whirling around the team stand (or appear to stand) a couple of calm, reasonable dudes making shrewd decisions geared toward building a perennial contender.

Banh mi sandwiches: How great are banh mi sandwiches? I’ve had three since I moved back to the city. They’re not readily available in Westchester — or at least not that I could find. So I’ve set out on a quest to find a Hall of Fame-caliber banh mi, and I’m not going to stop until you read that glowing review here on this site.

There’s a combination of flavors and textures in the banh mi that’s not found in most sandwiches traditionally produced by Western cultures. It’s the exquisite product of cultural interchange: Southeast Asian flavors with delicious, crusty French bread, and you just know if you trace back the history there’s all sorts of unspeakable colonial awfulness involved (kind of like Thanksgiving, really) but if you’re staring at the sandwich you can overlook it all for a second and revel in the years-later byproduct of imperialism.

Whoa, that got heavy. I want to go back to talking about the sandwich: The taste of a good banh mi floats around your mouth like a spicy, vinegary butterfly. It’s eminently filling, but somehow refreshing — a big, delicious sandwich that leaves you feeling like maybe you ate something healthy for once. I think that’s the cilantro. We should brush our teeth with cilantro. I’m also thankful for cilantro in general.

Beavis and Butthead: This is kind of a two-part thankfulness item. I’m thankful that Beavis and Butthead are back on TV because Beavis and Butthead are hilarious. I don’t know if you’ve caught any of the new episodes, but I find myself laughing nearly as hard and as often as I did when they ran the first time, back when I shared an age and general mindset with the show’s heroes.

I guess the thing is that Beavis and Butthead are kind of timeless: A couple of lazy dudes who love explosions and rock and hot women and who enjoy making fun of stuff that sucks. I hear that. And the new version of the show does a really good job sending up the various reality-TV fare airing on MTV these days, which makes sense: How could Beavis and Butthead watch music videos all day today if music videos almost never air anymore? Today’s version of the characters would be (and are) watching Jersey Shore, making fun of it as almost everyone who watches Jersey Shore does.

And that the show has remained funny upon its return gives me hope for the forthcoming fourth season of Arrested Development, which was announced last week. Since the first three-season run of that show was as close to perfect as anything I’ve ever seen on television, I’ve been a little nervous that the long-rumored movie or this newly announced fourth season could sully (in my opinion, at least) the show’s legacy. But if Mike Judge could pull off what appears to be a successful return, maybe Mitch Hurwitz and the folks responsible for Arrested Development will too.

Sandwiches as art

With Scanwiches I wanted to celebrate the remarkable qualities of one of my favorite foods, sandwiches. They’re these beautiful and personal objects that are easily forgotten or ignored. They have these architectural qualities, they’re constructed, not just made, that’s cool to me and I wanted to expose their intricacies.

I also love that they hold so many stories. Everybody eats food, and a lot of people eat sandwiches and for every sandwich there is some story.

Sandwiches like the hamburger tell us about the shaping of a nation. Individual sandwiches can jog a long-forgotten childhood memory like the smell of 3rd grade or that time we puked in the cafeteria in kindergarten. Deeply personal and important stories hide between those layers of bread.

Jon Chonko.

This, so hard. The Scanwiches exhibit at JS55 just catapulted to the top of my list of things to see in New York in the coming weeks. I’ll certainly report back.

Via dpecs.

Sandwich of the Week

Lo, a vegetarian option!

The sandwich: Spicy Falafel Pita from Kulushkat, Dean St. between 5th Avenue and Flatbush in Brooklyn.

The construction: Ahh, a lot of stuff. Spicy falafel, definitely. Hummus, some sort of eggplant goo, red-cabbage salad, and maybe some other things too.

Important background information: Falafel might be the No. 1 all-time drunk food. I think it’s the name. Three easy syllables, perfect for chanting once you’ve reached that shameless level of drunkenness where you don’t really care how you appear to the outside world because you’re young and free and you feel great and you just want to let everyone know how much you’re about to enjoy this falafel. “FA-LA-FEL!” Also, it’s fried, delicious, and chock full of carbs for sopping up that booze.

Come to think of it, though, I’m not sure I’ve ever eaten a falafel sober. Maybe falafels are just awesome all the time and I’m missing out. Especially since I really don’t drink all that often, so I pass up a lot of good opportunities to eat falafel.

Kulushkat is about a block from Uncle Barry’s, a new bar in Park Slope owned by a couple of my friends. You should check out both: Kulushkat because they make a hell of a falafel (more below), Uncle Barry’s because it’s a fine bar run by people I know and there’s a Mortal Kombat console in the back. Also, it boasts better odds than most bars that I’ll be there. Say hello. I’ll be the dude with the awesome hair, shouting about falafel.

What it looks like in the soft yellow glow of a Flatbush Avenue streetlight: 


How it tastes: Oh hell yes. Did I mention I’m drunk right now? I mean not right now while I’m writing about it, but back then when I was eating it. In retrospect it’s a testament to my experience as a sandwich blogger that I had the wherewithal and dedication to photograph the thing while stumbling toward the subway after several shots of celebratory Jameson because hey you guys opened a bar!

Anyway, that’s not important now. The falafel is crunchy, not too greasy and has just the right amount of peppery spice — not flaming hot sauce, kick-you-in-the-face-spice, more of a back-of-the-mouth type deal, something more subtle that sort of envelops the whole experience without overwhelming it at all. The cabbage adds crispiness of an entirely different texture than the falafel — oh, and a different temperature, too. That’s good, and an underrated sandwich element, I think. A mixture of piping hot and nicely chilled ingredients. A sandwich construction inefficiency, maybe.

The hummus is creamy and tasty, and the eggplant goo is mushy and sweet. The pita is soft and itself warm, and holds up under the duress of the various wet ingredients.

Oh — something important: I noted, even in my drunkenness, that the dude making the sandwich took time to stagger the ingredients. Scoop in some cabbage, some eggplant, a falafel, then some cabbage, some eggplant, another falafel, and on like that. I must have been visibly drunk, but he still invested the time to properly craft the sandwich for appropriate ingredient variability. It was not unappreciated, good sir.

I’ll amount that my judgment was less than perfect, given the circumstances. But I have not a single complaint about this sandwich. It was awesome.

What it costs: $6. It probably wasn’t enough to be dinner (for me), but it seemed like a good value nonetheless.

How it rates: 91 out of 100. A Hall of Famer, drunk or otherwise. I think.

Classic gyro-eating difficulties

Am I out of line to want my gyro bread bisected and then stuffed: thereby making my it more of a gyro sandwich than a gyro wrap? Tasting Gyros is a mouthparty. Eating Gyros is anxiety inducing. I feel like I’m too worried about how not to spray tzatziki on everyone to be able to fully enjoy the meal. Also, as currently constructed, its impossible to get a consistent bite. I’m either chomping on all bread and veggies or all meat and sauce. There’s like one bite in the whole process that is a perfect mix. (and it keeps me coming back every time). Sure, I could somewhat ease the mixing problem by reconstructing it myself a bit, but I paid for a meal, man, not a job. Who knows, maybe it’s been tried and the bread just isn’t hearty enough to support both sides when halved.

– Cake-Eater, via email.

Lots of classic gyro-eating problems here. I wish I had more wisdom, but truth is, eating a gyro is a tricky (albeit ultimately rewarding) endeavor.

Forget about splitting the gyro bread in half. I’ve only seen one place pull that off — The Little Cafe, near Georgetown in DC — and that place is now closed. Presumably the amount of effort that took ran them out of business. Plus — and as you suggest — though the gyro bread is thick, it’s not thick enough to withstand being stuffed with meat and sauce and vegetables. It worked at Little Cafe because the stuffing was chicken and hummus. Lamb is a greasy meat. That’s going to seep through.

I’d say: 1) The foil is your friend. The best way to keep everything as neat as possible when eating a gyro is to keep as much foil on the sandwich as long as possible. That means tearing it off bit by bit as you eat your way through. By the end you’re going to have one extremely messy sauce-well of foil, but you’re just going to have to face that when you get there. And it’s going to get all over your hands. Cost of doing business, brother.

2) Cut down on the vegetables. Seriously, are you eating that gyro for the iceberg lettuce and mealy tomatoes, or for the delicious, greasy hunks of lamb with tzatziki and hot sauce? See if you can talk the street-meat guy (are we talking street-meat gyros here? I get a good 85% of my gyros off the street) out of tomatoes entirely, and tell him to go light on the lettuce. You won’t be sorry. That stuff is just a third wheel on your date with delicious gyro meat. I get that you want some lettuce in there for crunch, but you’re still going to get plenty — and it’s going to mix in better with the meat if there’s less. It’s physics, or something.

Also, the gyros poster above hung on the wall at a diner in my town. Several times I tried to convince the owner to sell it to me but he never budged. Then the last time I was in there it was gone. What gives? I wanted that poster!

Around the world in savory pastries

Knish (Eastern Europe/New York):

Çibörek (Tartarstan):

Lumpiang (Indonesia/Philippines):

Meat pie (Australia):

Empanada (Southern Europe/Latin America):

Steak pie (Great Britain):

Kolache (Texas):

Lihapiirakka (Finland):

Burek (Bosnia):

Beef patty (Jamaica):

I could go on and on. There are so many delicious savory pastries in this world.

Most images via Wikipedia. Truly one of the more entertaining, albeit frustrating, Wikipedia tangents.