Spotted near Cedar Rapids, IA:Pragmatism meets style. The perfect hat and polo shirt
for an afternoon enjoying popcorn at the park.
6/21/10
Fashin Watch
Spotted near Cedar Rapids, IA:Pragmatism meets style. The perfect hat and polo shirt
for an afternoon enjoying popcorn at the park.
6/18/10
Fashin Watch
Spotted in Shedd Aquarium, Chicago, IL, at the live show Fantasea:A stout performer/dolphin trainer wearing a form-fitting silver unitard
makes a dramatic entrance in a suspended canoe.
6/16/10
Food Discussion: Onion Blossoms Guide
A Quick Guide to the Onion-Based Appetizers of the Midwest's Franchised Steakhouses
Mmm, the Midwest's favorite appetizer: a splayed, fried onion with its requisite tangy orange dipping sauce. It's the ultimate staple of any generic steakhouse experience. It's so famous that it even has its own Facebook group and a Pringles flavor in honor of the delicacy.
And yet it's a calorie-loaded dish so simple (onion... batter... dip) that you wonder if anyone could come up with it. If you've ever paid attention to your steakhouse menus, you've probably noticed that many chains nonetheless suggest that they have an original stake (PUN) in this recipe, especially in that glorious sauce. In order to appreciate the variations and distinctions of each version, let's survey the different names and descriptions used for the delicacy and its close relative, the onion petal pile. Now, if you're like my nephew Tanner, then you already know all the different terms and nuances of each recipe, in which case this is old news for you!
Outback
Once you get beyond the poor grammar of these menu scribes and the atrocious misuse of hyphenation, you'll notice that each steak-peddling establishment claims to be the progenitor of a unique onion blossom dippin' sauce. (As far as the general idea for a fried onion appetizer, I believe Outback assumes credit, as is repeatedly asserted in the menu description). I honestly find these dipping sauce claims rather dubious as they all taste the same to me, but Tanner tells me that there truly are subtle differences. He does have a pretty refined palate for a child of 6 and has already eaten at more steakhouses than most people do in a lifetime, so I'll take his word for it. He says, for example, that the Outback sauce is slightly tangier than the Texas Roadhouse sauce, but the horseradish is more detectable in the latter's variation. He also thumbed his nose at the Damon's onion loaf, claiming that "you end up using too much sauce with every dip 'cause the onions are so stringy and they jus' pick up more. Then you run outta sauce before you finish the loaf." I would never have considered the delicate relationship between onion shape and sauce quantity/consistency, but this is a good point for the economically-minded sauce consumer. Be prepared to ask for extra sauce!
Right here in the Midwest, complaints have also been issued against the assault on taste launched by these dishes. No, not taste as in "Mmm!" but taste as in "clearly you have none." The Chicago Tribute awarded onion blossoms #1 on their list of the 10 worst dining trends of the last ten years. They say, "We like to believe the fried onion blossom could be done right -- i.e., not sweaty, or greasy, without slivers of onion behind monstrous tan shells, served like county fair food on porcelain -- but we haven't seen it yet." Another site says that onion blossoms "need to go away" because they are "too sweaty, too greasy, too little onion, and too much fried stuff."
There seems to be a backlash against the onion blossom in Chicago, and I've found many reviews and opinion pieces denouncing the delicacy not for it's calorie count, but for its offensiveness to good taste. One piece, entitled "Three Cheap Eats in Chicago that Don't Serve Fried Onion Blossoms" recommends Italian, Greek, and Armenian restaurants as the antidote to onion blossom culture. Of course, the author thinks that $50/head counts as cheap (huh?), failing to mention that onion blossoms are between $4-8 -- not quite breaking the bank.
In spite of the health concerns, I think the onion blossom is too delicious to strike it out of my diet completely.... Somebody wrote a rebuttal to the Trib's complaint list, stating, "C'mon, a fried onion blossom is basically just a great big pile of onion rings. Granted, they usually run a little greasy. But who doesn't like onion rings? I'm not recommending you have one of these for lunch every day, but once a year that is pretty good, fun eating!"
That's right!
On my next food discussion, I'll discuss and compare the "Tour of Italy" equivalents at Macaroni, Olive Garden, Carino's, etc.
Mmm, the Midwest's favorite appetizer: a splayed, fried onion with its requisite tangy orange dipping sauce. It's the ultimate staple of any generic steakhouse experience. It's so famous that it even has its own Facebook group and a Pringles flavor in honor of the delicacy.And yet it's a calorie-loaded dish so simple (onion... batter... dip) that you wonder if anyone could come up with it. If you've ever paid attention to your steakhouse menus, you've probably noticed that many chains nonetheless suggest that they have an original stake (PUN) in this recipe, especially in that glorious sauce. In order to appreciate the variations and distinctions of each version, let's survey the different names and descriptions used for the delicacy and its close relative, the onion petal pile. Now, if you're like my nephew Tanner, then you already know all the different terms and nuances of each recipe, in which case this is old news for you!
Onion Blossom Guide
Outback
- Bloomin' Onion® with Bloomin' Onion® sauce
- Menu: "A true Outback original. Our special onion is hand-carved by a dedicated bloomologist, cooked until golden and ready to dip into our spicy signature bloom sauce."
- Texas Rose®
- Menu: "Enough for two! A fresh, whole onion, cut to bloom, hand battered and served with our famous seasoned sauce."
- Cactus Blossom® (comes as Baby Blossom® or Double Blossom®)
- Menu: "Perfect for two people to share! Our signature hand-battered onion, golden-fried, and served with our Cajun Horseradish dip" and "Two Baby Blossoms great for four people or more"
- Rockin' Onion Petals®
- Menu: "A bucket of crispy fried onion petals with our Texan petal sauce"
- Texas Flower®
- Menu: "The ultimate feeding frenzy! Exploding onion battered, fried and served with our seasonal sauce."
- Damon's Famous Onion Loaf (comes as Half Loaf or Full Loaf)
- Menu: "We use sweet onions and pop our own rings fresh every day. Then they're lightly seasoned and battered, deep-fried to a golden brown, and served with a side of our spicy dipping sauce"
- Texas Tonion®
- Menu: "Crispy onion petals drizzled with sour cream and served with zesty dipping sauce"
- Onion Strings
- Menu: Lightly-breaded and flash-fried, served with rémoulade dipping sauce "
- Why no Awesome Blossom? Because it was removed from Chili's menu after it was declared worse for your health than shooting yourself in the neck.
Once you get beyond the poor grammar of these menu scribes and the atrocious misuse of hyphenation, you'll notice that each steak-peddling establishment claims to be the progenitor of a unique onion blossom dippin' sauce. (As far as the general idea for a fried onion appetizer, I believe Outback assumes credit, as is repeatedly asserted in the menu description). I honestly find these dipping sauce claims rather dubious as they all taste the same to me, but Tanner tells me that there truly are subtle differences. He does have a pretty refined palate for a child of 6 and has already eaten at more steakhouses than most people do in a lifetime, so I'll take his word for it. He says, for example, that the Outback sauce is slightly tangier than the Texas Roadhouse sauce, but the horseradish is more detectable in the latter's variation. He also thumbed his nose at the Damon's onion loaf, claiming that "you end up using too much sauce with every dip 'cause the onions are so stringy and they jus' pick up more. Then you run outta sauce before you finish the loaf." I would never have considered the delicate relationship between onion shape and sauce quantity/consistency, but this is a good point for the economically-minded sauce consumer. Be prepared to ask for extra sauce!
Ordering Onion Appetizers
Now, when ordering a blooming onion or onion petals, use of the appropriate term is important to a lot of people, including Tanner. I, however, cannot bring myself to say things like Rockin' and Tonion, but I've discovered that most waiters know I want if I say "onion blossom." Alternatively, one can always simply point to the menu and say "give me this." This works about 90% of the time. Oh, and Tanner tells me that it's okay to point to the menu and grunt "whenever your mouth is full or when you're busy swallowin' bread." I'm sure this is effective, but in his case, this may be due to the fact that all the local waiters and waitresses know him by name, by how he likes his 12-oz., by his refill schedule, etc.Health and Cultural Complaints
Anyways, in spite of its deliciousness, health studies have apparently placed onion blossoms among the worst foods in America. It would be awkward to end my onion appetizer guide with a stern suggestion never to order this dish, but I will just say that the aforementioned Tanner is almost 170 pounds by now and can't even get his fingers around the tv remote anymore. I can certainly believe that routine consumption of onion blossoms and/or onion petal piles can be no good for one's size and shape.Right here in the Midwest, complaints have also been issued against the assault on taste launched by these dishes. No, not taste as in "Mmm!" but taste as in "clearly you have none." The Chicago Tribute awarded onion blossoms #1 on their list of the 10 worst dining trends of the last ten years. They say, "We like to believe the fried onion blossom could be done right -- i.e., not sweaty, or greasy, without slivers of onion behind monstrous tan shells, served like county fair food on porcelain -- but we haven't seen it yet." Another site says that onion blossoms "need to go away" because they are "too sweaty, too greasy, too little onion, and too much fried stuff."
There seems to be a backlash against the onion blossom in Chicago, and I've found many reviews and opinion pieces denouncing the delicacy not for it's calorie count, but for its offensiveness to good taste. One piece, entitled "Three Cheap Eats in Chicago that Don't Serve Fried Onion Blossoms" recommends Italian, Greek, and Armenian restaurants as the antidote to onion blossom culture. Of course, the author thinks that $50/head counts as cheap (huh?), failing to mention that onion blossoms are between $4-8 -- not quite breaking the bank.In spite of the health concerns, I think the onion blossom is too delicious to strike it out of my diet completely.... Somebody wrote a rebuttal to the Trib's complaint list, stating, "C'mon, a fried onion blossom is basically just a great big pile of onion rings. Granted, they usually run a little greasy. But who doesn't like onion rings? I'm not recommending you have one of these for lunch every day, but once a year that is pretty good, fun eating!"
That's right!
On my next food discussion, I'll discuss and compare the "Tour of Italy" equivalents at Macaroni, Olive Garden, Carino's, etc.
Fashin Watch
Spotted in Clinton, MI:Mr. Stanley Christmas, activist, community leader and Detroit mayoral
candidate not too long ago, sporting some exquisite glasses and jewelry.
6/15/10
Fashin Watch
Spotted in Normal, IL:Rhapsody in Purple! The perfect sunhat for the perfect floral print.
6/14/10
Local Landmarks: Chicago's Pedestrian Underpasses (part 1)
(Part 1: Introduction and Lake Shore Drive)
Whenever I visit Chicago, the locals are eager to tell me stories of one of the city's most underrated series of landmarks. No, I'm not talking about the Sears Tower or the many famous underground water retention systems. You've probably guessed by now that I'm referring to Chicago's pedestrian underpasses, especially those that run along -- or under, rather! -- Lake Shore Drive (pictured left), the busy thoroughfare that more-or-less serves as the boundary between the city and Lake Michigan itself and a conduit between the affluence of the north side and poverty of (parts of) the south side.
Chicagoans with free time and cool sports wear have long been provided access to the city's famous lakefront by these underpasses. Locals tell me that these subterranean architectural marvels embody many social and cultural sides of the city, and, for the outsider, they serve as a good introduction to one of Chicago's treasured pastimes: complaining about motor traffic and lakefront congestion and/or cursing "those arrogant" cyclists.
I’m told that many of the lakeside pedestrian underpasses were introduced to the city of Chicago in the late 19th century, and that their original purpose was to provide safe, weather-protected spaces for muggers and panhandlers to practice their trade. But after decades of a booming industry, city developers began to ponder other uses for these “public toilets”.
Old-ass picture of underpass construction
Around the 1990's, one freethinking city administrator proposed a series of new plans for the underpasses, suggesting that they could also be used to funnel pedestrian and bicycle traffic towards the recreational areas of the lakefront and its attractions, thereby eliminating the congestion and danger while earning revenue for the attractions and seeing another increase in the value of property near Lake Shore Drive. The idea was implemented almost right away, resulting in a yet another renewal of appreciation for the city's lakefront and its many urban beaches and bicycle lanes.
But, as any Chicagoan will hasten to inform you, these underpasses are about far more than finding a place to tan or simply getting from Point A to Point B to Promontory Point (haha). They are also sites of art, community, politics, urination, and infrastructural progress. Underpasses are even the subject of yuppie self-reflection and humor, appearing in theater productions such as the 2010 Our Lady of the Underpass, which touches on "a disgruntled jogger... [who] goes off on the 'retards' f---ing up his Fullerton Avenue running route as they gather to pray at the titular image." (see a review here-- "If there’s a more authentic archetype of urban assholery on stage this month, we’d be surprised.").
A scene from "Our Lady of the Underpass"
Examples of "art in transit", many underpasses are adorned with beautiful, and sometimes insightful, large-scale murals or mosaics. Some murals were officially commissioned by the city to beautify the tunnels and convince passersby that the city is not bankrupt, while other decorations exist as the result citizen initiative (such as this one in the suburb Arlington Heights).
Bricolage mural in the Bryn Mawr underpass on the north side
Aside from attracting the eye and discouraging urination, underpass murals are designed with the intent of overcoming historical tragedies and reminding passersby about the forced relocation of indigenous peoples. The new mural at the underpass at Foster Avenue and Lake Shore Drive, for example, includes iconic American Indian symbols, promoting remembrance of obscured communities who inhabited the area long ago.
In addition to displaying an array of political and socio-cultural issues (too many to cover, but these include race, green living, depression, and social justice, to name a few), the underpasses themselves are spaces where such issues are continuously acted out. I'm told for example, that the $16+ million dollar underpass at Solidarity Drive near Adler Planetarium, represents to some the act of channeling funds away from relevant socio-political problems, while to others it symbolizes the feat of cheating death while traversing a congested area. This underpass, and Lake Shore trail in general, is a favored spot for showcasing new Northface apparel or other seasonal athletic wear, and without it young South Loop condo owners would have no way of signaling their success and athleticism to random strangers and tourists. As their as numerous comments indicate (see the above cited links), cyclists and in-line skaters are loathe to share the lakefront paths with tourists, parents with strollers, or any other "idiots" who loaf around Lake Michigan as if they have any right to be there (more on their perspective is here). Some poorer, non-cycling residents of the area told me that they wished the money had been spent on other projects, especially ones that didn't encourage "yuppie arrogance."
The new Solidarity Drive Underpass
Very near this underpass, the Roosevelt Road pedestrian underpass to Museum Campus provides locals and tourists with breathtaking geometric design, perhaps a poignant comment on the importance of breathtaking design and underpass construction itself.
Inside the handsome, light-spattered Museum Campus/Roosevelt Underpass
Exuding safety, this underpass proudly displays its expensiveness. It is strikingly expansive and well-maintained, no doubt to encourage a steady flow of tourist traffic towards the lakefront museums. The underpass is rivaled in beauty only by the Riverwalk underpass under Lake Shore Drive, designed by a prominent south-side artist.
Riverwalk underpass: tourist attraction, pedestrian route, river history timeline,
and mind-manipulating portal that makes you feel like spending some money....
South of this bustling area, pedestrian underpasses are far more modest and definitely less opulent, focusing more on the pragmatics of getting pedestrians across Lake Shore to the lakefront.
55th Street underpass on the south side.... ew.
Residents of the area told me that the 55th Street underpass confronts its travelers with smells more pungent and disturbing than can be described, and vehemently warned me against using the underpass after nightfall. "Hopefully we'll get our makeover someday too, but we don't need a fancy tunnel anyhow," said one local. "Getting to and from our park is the point." Reportedly, this underpass formerly showcased vibrant murals but is presently white-washed. I regret that I don't remember the reason.
From north to south, Lake Shore Drive underpasses share one thing in common. They allow people to cross one of the city's busiest roads without experiencing death. Who crosses? And what salient issues will they learn about along the way? Such is determined by each specific underpass and, more importantly, by the personality of its community.
In Part 2: "Art at Knifepoint: the Metra Pedestrian Underpasses."
Whenever I visit Chicago, the locals are eager to tell me stories of one of the city's most underrated series of landmarks. No, I'm not talking about the Sears Tower or the many famous underground water retention systems. You've probably guessed by now that I'm referring to Chicago's pedestrian underpasses, especially those that run along -- or under, rather! -- Lake Shore Drive (pictured left), the busy thoroughfare that more-or-less serves as the boundary between the city and Lake Michigan itself and a conduit between the affluence of the north side and poverty of (parts of) the south side.Chicagoans with free time and cool sports wear have long been provided access to the city's famous lakefront by these underpasses. Locals tell me that these subterranean architectural marvels embody many social and cultural sides of the city, and, for the outsider, they serve as a good introduction to one of Chicago's treasured pastimes: complaining about motor traffic and lakefront congestion and/or cursing "those arrogant" cyclists.
I’m told that many of the lakeside pedestrian underpasses were introduced to the city of Chicago in the late 19th century, and that their original purpose was to provide safe, weather-protected spaces for muggers and panhandlers to practice their trade. But after decades of a booming industry, city developers began to ponder other uses for these “public toilets”.
Old-ass picture of underpass constructionAround the 1990's, one freethinking city administrator proposed a series of new plans for the underpasses, suggesting that they could also be used to funnel pedestrian and bicycle traffic towards the recreational areas of the lakefront and its attractions, thereby eliminating the congestion and danger while earning revenue for the attractions and seeing another increase in the value of property near Lake Shore Drive. The idea was implemented almost right away, resulting in a yet another renewal of appreciation for the city's lakefront and its many urban beaches and bicycle lanes.
But, as any Chicagoan will hasten to inform you, these underpasses are about far more than finding a place to tan or simply getting from Point A to Point B to Promontory Point (haha). They are also sites of art, community, politics, urination, and infrastructural progress. Underpasses are even the subject of yuppie self-reflection and humor, appearing in theater productions such as the 2010 Our Lady of the Underpass, which touches on "a disgruntled jogger... [who] goes off on the 'retards' f---ing up his Fullerton Avenue running route as they gather to pray at the titular image." (see a review here-- "If there’s a more authentic archetype of urban assholery on stage this month, we’d be surprised.").
A scene from "Our Lady of the Underpass"Examples of "art in transit", many underpasses are adorned with beautiful, and sometimes insightful, large-scale murals or mosaics. Some murals were officially commissioned by the city to beautify the tunnels and convince passersby that the city is not bankrupt, while other decorations exist as the result citizen initiative (such as this one in the suburb Arlington Heights).
Bricolage mural in the Bryn Mawr underpass on the north sideAside from attracting the eye and discouraging urination, underpass murals are designed with the intent of overcoming historical tragedies and reminding passersby about the forced relocation of indigenous peoples. The new mural at the underpass at Foster Avenue and Lake Shore Drive, for example, includes iconic American Indian symbols, promoting remembrance of obscured communities who inhabited the area long ago.
In addition to displaying an array of political and socio-cultural issues (too many to cover, but these include race, green living, depression, and social justice, to name a few), the underpasses themselves are spaces where such issues are continuously acted out. I'm told for example, that the $16+ million dollar underpass at Solidarity Drive near Adler Planetarium, represents to some the act of channeling funds away from relevant socio-political problems, while to others it symbolizes the feat of cheating death while traversing a congested area. This underpass, and Lake Shore trail in general, is a favored spot for showcasing new Northface apparel or other seasonal athletic wear, and without it young South Loop condo owners would have no way of signaling their success and athleticism to random strangers and tourists. As their as numerous comments indicate (see the above cited links), cyclists and in-line skaters are loathe to share the lakefront paths with tourists, parents with strollers, or any other "idiots" who loaf around Lake Michigan as if they have any right to be there (more on their perspective is here). Some poorer, non-cycling residents of the area told me that they wished the money had been spent on other projects, especially ones that didn't encourage "yuppie arrogance."
The new Solidarity Drive UnderpassVery near this underpass, the Roosevelt Road pedestrian underpass to Museum Campus provides locals and tourists with breathtaking geometric design, perhaps a poignant comment on the importance of breathtaking design and underpass construction itself.
Inside the handsome, light-spattered Museum Campus/Roosevelt UnderpassExuding safety, this underpass proudly displays its expensiveness. It is strikingly expansive and well-maintained, no doubt to encourage a steady flow of tourist traffic towards the lakefront museums. The underpass is rivaled in beauty only by the Riverwalk underpass under Lake Shore Drive, designed by a prominent south-side artist.
Riverwalk underpass: tourist attraction, pedestrian route, river history timeline,and mind-manipulating portal that makes you feel like spending some money....
South of this bustling area, pedestrian underpasses are far more modest and definitely less opulent, focusing more on the pragmatics of getting pedestrians across Lake Shore to the lakefront.
55th Street underpass on the south side.... ew.Residents of the area told me that the 55th Street underpass confronts its travelers with smells more pungent and disturbing than can be described, and vehemently warned me against using the underpass after nightfall. "Hopefully we'll get our makeover someday too, but we don't need a fancy tunnel anyhow," said one local. "Getting to and from our park is the point." Reportedly, this underpass formerly showcased vibrant murals but is presently white-washed. I regret that I don't remember the reason.
From north to south, Lake Shore Drive underpasses share one thing in common. They allow people to cross one of the city's busiest roads without experiencing death. Who crosses? And what salient issues will they learn about along the way? Such is determined by each specific underpass and, more importantly, by the personality of its community.
In Part 2: "Art at Knifepoint: the Metra Pedestrian Underpasses."
No Swimming part 2
After posting on Pinckney's "No Swiming" catastrophe, I've decided to keep a collection of Midwestern "No Swimming" signs and symbols and post them here as I find them. If you have a good one, send it!
So here we have No Swimming at Promontory Point in Hyde Park, Chicago, IL.
I'm not sure I would think about swimming here anyways! As much as it usually thrills me to swim near factories and e. coli outbreaks, I think the water was way too cold.
So here we have No Swimming at Promontory Point in Hyde Park, Chicago, IL.
I'm not sure I would think about swimming here anyways! As much as it usually thrills me to swim near factories and e. coli outbreaks, I think the water was way too cold.
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