They Call Me "Tater Tot"
Who invented home fries anyway? A person who loved french fries and wanted it for breakfast but didn't want the burden of deep frying or extra calories?
According to Wikipedia (oh, I how I love Wikipedia!)Home fries are a type of potato dish made by frying diced or shredded potatoes that have been par-cooked by boiling, baking, steaming, or microwaving. The potatoes are cooled between the two stages.
The frying is typically done in butter or vegetable oil, and chopped onions, pepper, and other ingredients are typically added.
See all the details you can get?
I love home fries! As a matter of fact, I pretty much love all things "potato." I remember having mashed potatoes at La Cave and boy was it good! They mashed the potatoes the old-fashioned French way. The potatoes are boiled in salted water and pressed through a sieve. At the same time, fresh cream is being carefully brought to a scald and added to the potatoes. Last but not least? A huge lump of fine unsalted sweet cream french butter. Mind you, you have to have the french butter for its higher fat content. The end product was fluffy and ultra-creamy. That was my meal; Creme de Poulet (cream of chicken soup), steak au poivres with mashed potatoes; of course my Fanta Orange, and Peach Flambe for dessert. If I have gone to La Cave 50 times in my life, that was the meal that I ate 50 times in my life there.
Potatoes are not in the Vietnamese diet except for curries or so. I don't know why this is. Maybe I should have asked my mother before writing this entry (I'll get back to you on this) And by the time we arrived in Washington, Pennsylvania, we didn't stay long enough to explore the potato aside from chips and french fries...which I thought was heaven on earth. BUT, by the time we were settled on the upper west side of Manhattan in the summer of 1976, our potato urges exploded after we discovered HOME FRIES!!!!!!!!!!!!
Unless you have lived in New York City, you will never know what it's like to have your favorite diner or coffee shop within walking distance from your abode. AND not only their proximity, but these eating joints also deliver around the clock and within the half hour. No wonder so many New Yorkers don't cook!
Growing up on Manhattan's upper west side, we were all entitled to having a ratio on average of one coffee shop per four blocks. Yummy! Where else can you go and order breakfast and dinner at the same time? And soup too? Yes, on any given day, you can order a soup of your liking from any of these fine dining establishments; always a soup of the day somewhere that would satisfy your cravings. Maybe it is because we are Asians and we are conditioned to eat soup; love soup; feel dry and unfulfilled if we don't end our meals with soup; or maybe those coffee shops spoiled me and set me up to love soup for the rest of my life.
My sister, brother and I knew all the soup specials. We could tell the days of the week by the soups that would be offered on that particular day at that particular coffee shop. Our favorite days were Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday; split pea soup with giant deep fried croutons that oozed hot oil in your mouth, cream of turkey, and cream of turkey, respectively. To this day, the love for these favorites still remains deep in our hearts. Once in a while, my sister would call me from Manhattan and say in her teasing voice something like - guess what I just had? I would instantly give her the answer after pausing a mili-second to see which day it was.
We had settled on the upper west side because my father had purchased a single room occupancy hotel, known to those in the know as SRO, called the Opera on 76th Street and Broadway (I will detail our journey from PA to NYC in another entry..think eight non-speaking immigrants, and the one driving doesn't have a license, in a beat-up green station wagon with no headlights on the Pennsylvania Turnpike in the middle of the night..it is a wonder we didn't die a miserable death or were crushed by a truck.) It was to be our home for the next two and a half years. Early in 1976, my father had taken a bus to New York City and knew instantly upon stepping foot at the Port Authority, that if we were to make it anywhere, it would have to be in NYC. Had to get out of Washington; we were just wasting away there.
The upper west side used to be kitsch-y in the 70s, but we were kids and we didn't know the difference. We were in our own world anyway. I don't remember how it all started when we had all of our meals delivered, but most likely it was because my parents were busy adjusting to a new country, a new language, and running a business that they had absolutely no knowledge of or training in to say the least; they were working around the clock to stay afloat!
But it happened like magic. We picked up the phone, we ordered, and they brought the food in round tin foil containers with white paper lids. Everything was easy and disposable. The food would come, my mother would pay for it in the lobby where she was switchboard operator in training, front desk clerk, and cashier. And we three would open our door of apartment 1604 like mice and steal away with the food after grateful thank yous to the delivery men.
The home fries were a surprise! The very first time we ordered breakfast, I remember the person on the other end asking if I wanted french fries or home fries? I was curious and automatically replied home fries without asking my sister and brother. When our food arrived that morning, I opened the steamy lid only to discover that home fries were like fried pieces of potatoes. That particular coffee shop, now that I know better, cooked their home fries with just onions and paprika so that the potatoes were slightly speckled with red dust. We hastily ripped open the packages of Hunt's ketchup and covered our home fries and eggs with them. The potatoes melted in our mouths. We became so enthralled that by the end of the week, we requested home fries with every meal; hamburger deluxe with home fries; breaded pork chops with home fries; soup and a side order of home fries- our English suddenly improving and we became more confident belting out these orders for food.
I have heard that somewhere, people actually put homefries on their pizzas. Neither my siblings nor I have come across this as yet.
Home fries, tater tots, hash browns have become synonymous with our early years in New York City. Now, when we eat breakfast out, we always judge a diner or coffee shop by their home fries. One of our favorites is the Citi-Diner on West 92nd Street, and the best hash browns of all? The ones you order as a side dish (along with creamed spinach,of course) at Smith & Wollensky's in the City. It is on our "To Eat" list with our kids. My husband and I just want to introduce them to everything that is out there - the more variety their taste buds experience, the wider their world will be. Our oldest son just reminded us that it has been a while since he had Schwarma from our favorite Mamoun's (175 MacDougal). If you are in the area, please do give them a try. At $2.00 a sandwich, they serve upwards of 2000 falafels a day (watching the amazing gentleman behind the counter is almost as good as Cirque du Soleil); their hot sauce recipe is a secret; they have the best vegan green lentil soup on earth, and their exotic hot spiced tea is only 50 cents. We go very, very often!
Life, love and food - they all must be balanced. And when you have the equations all figured out, hold on to them with your dear life!
According to Wikipedia (oh, I how I love Wikipedia!)Home fries are a type of potato dish made by frying diced or shredded potatoes that have been par-cooked by boiling, baking, steaming, or microwaving. The potatoes are cooled between the two stages.
The frying is typically done in butter or vegetable oil, and chopped onions, pepper, and other ingredients are typically added.
See all the details you can get?
I love home fries! As a matter of fact, I pretty much love all things "potato." I remember having mashed potatoes at La Cave and boy was it good! They mashed the potatoes the old-fashioned French way. The potatoes are boiled in salted water and pressed through a sieve. At the same time, fresh cream is being carefully brought to a scald and added to the potatoes. Last but not least? A huge lump of fine unsalted sweet cream french butter. Mind you, you have to have the french butter for its higher fat content. The end product was fluffy and ultra-creamy. That was my meal; Creme de Poulet (cream of chicken soup), steak au poivres with mashed potatoes; of course my Fanta Orange, and Peach Flambe for dessert. If I have gone to La Cave 50 times in my life, that was the meal that I ate 50 times in my life there.
Potatoes are not in the Vietnamese diet except for curries or so. I don't know why this is. Maybe I should have asked my mother before writing this entry (I'll get back to you on this) And by the time we arrived in Washington, Pennsylvania, we didn't stay long enough to explore the potato aside from chips and french fries...which I thought was heaven on earth. BUT, by the time we were settled on the upper west side of Manhattan in the summer of 1976, our potato urges exploded after we discovered HOME FRIES!!!!!!!!!!!!
Unless you have lived in New York City, you will never know what it's like to have your favorite diner or coffee shop within walking distance from your abode. AND not only their proximity, but these eating joints also deliver around the clock and within the half hour. No wonder so many New Yorkers don't cook!
Growing up on Manhattan's upper west side, we were all entitled to having a ratio on average of one coffee shop per four blocks. Yummy! Where else can you go and order breakfast and dinner at the same time? And soup too? Yes, on any given day, you can order a soup of your liking from any of these fine dining establishments; always a soup of the day somewhere that would satisfy your cravings. Maybe it is because we are Asians and we are conditioned to eat soup; love soup; feel dry and unfulfilled if we don't end our meals with soup; or maybe those coffee shops spoiled me and set me up to love soup for the rest of my life.
My sister, brother and I knew all the soup specials. We could tell the days of the week by the soups that would be offered on that particular day at that particular coffee shop. Our favorite days were Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday; split pea soup with giant deep fried croutons that oozed hot oil in your mouth, cream of turkey, and cream of turkey, respectively. To this day, the love for these favorites still remains deep in our hearts. Once in a while, my sister would call me from Manhattan and say in her teasing voice something like - guess what I just had? I would instantly give her the answer after pausing a mili-second to see which day it was.
We had settled on the upper west side because my father had purchased a single room occupancy hotel, known to those in the know as SRO, called the Opera on 76th Street and Broadway (I will detail our journey from PA to NYC in another entry..think eight non-speaking immigrants, and the one driving doesn't have a license, in a beat-up green station wagon with no headlights on the Pennsylvania Turnpike in the middle of the night..it is a wonder we didn't die a miserable death or were crushed by a truck.) It was to be our home for the next two and a half years. Early in 1976, my father had taken a bus to New York City and knew instantly upon stepping foot at the Port Authority, that if we were to make it anywhere, it would have to be in NYC. Had to get out of Washington; we were just wasting away there.
The upper west side used to be kitsch-y in the 70s, but we were kids and we didn't know the difference. We were in our own world anyway. I don't remember how it all started when we had all of our meals delivered, but most likely it was because my parents were busy adjusting to a new country, a new language, and running a business that they had absolutely no knowledge of or training in to say the least; they were working around the clock to stay afloat!
But it happened like magic. We picked up the phone, we ordered, and they brought the food in round tin foil containers with white paper lids. Everything was easy and disposable. The food would come, my mother would pay for it in the lobby where she was switchboard operator in training, front desk clerk, and cashier. And we three would open our door of apartment 1604 like mice and steal away with the food after grateful thank yous to the delivery men.
The home fries were a surprise! The very first time we ordered breakfast, I remember the person on the other end asking if I wanted french fries or home fries? I was curious and automatically replied home fries without asking my sister and brother. When our food arrived that morning, I opened the steamy lid only to discover that home fries were like fried pieces of potatoes. That particular coffee shop, now that I know better, cooked their home fries with just onions and paprika so that the potatoes were slightly speckled with red dust. We hastily ripped open the packages of Hunt's ketchup and covered our home fries and eggs with them. The potatoes melted in our mouths. We became so enthralled that by the end of the week, we requested home fries with every meal; hamburger deluxe with home fries; breaded pork chops with home fries; soup and a side order of home fries- our English suddenly improving and we became more confident belting out these orders for food.
I have heard that somewhere, people actually put homefries on their pizzas. Neither my siblings nor I have come across this as yet.
Home fries, tater tots, hash browns have become synonymous with our early years in New York City. Now, when we eat breakfast out, we always judge a diner or coffee shop by their home fries. One of our favorites is the Citi-Diner on West 92nd Street, and the best hash browns of all? The ones you order as a side dish (along with creamed spinach,of course) at Smith & Wollensky's in the City. It is on our "To Eat" list with our kids. My husband and I just want to introduce them to everything that is out there - the more variety their taste buds experience, the wider their world will be. Our oldest son just reminded us that it has been a while since he had Schwarma from our favorite Mamoun's (175 MacDougal). If you are in the area, please do give them a try. At $2.00 a sandwich, they serve upwards of 2000 falafels a day (watching the amazing gentleman behind the counter is almost as good as Cirque du Soleil); their hot sauce recipe is a secret; they have the best vegan green lentil soup on earth, and their exotic hot spiced tea is only 50 cents. We go very, very often!
Life, love and food - they all must be balanced. And when you have the equations all figured out, hold on to them with your dear life!
posted by cream cheese dreams at 8:24 PM
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