A Las Vegas Strip Sandwhich · 27 July 2007
The setting of Last Call by Tim Powers is the Las Vegas before its modern revival. Circus Circus, Caesars Palace (pre-renovation and Forum shops), and the Flamingo are the most widely lavish hotels. The Dunes, the Sands, and the Stardust are big powerhouses. One of the characters mentions that the Excalibur is under construction. The Mirage has just opened, ushering in a new era of mega-casinos. This is Las Vegas before it remade its image into that of a “family-friendly town,” a Las Vegas that had no place for fun and games or innocence, a Las Vegas in which people came to win or lose, at cards or at life.
I did a little bit of research on Vegas in order to write this review. And while Vegas really tried to clean up its image in the 1990’s, I read a few interesting tidbits. In 2000, the MGM grand closed down its amusement park due to lack of interest. In 2003, Treasure Island closed its video arcade, and revamped its kid-oriented pirate’s theme. In 2004, the Wet n’ Wild water park closed down.
It seems the roots of Las Vegas run deep, and the town itself is resisting the attempts to “clean it up.” The idea that Vegas is a seat of old power that wouldn’t take kindly to squeaky-clean family-fun is one that fits right in with the themes of Last Call. Las Vegas has a distinctive flavor, and it isn’t bubblegum.
Even though Las Vegas seems to be in an adult revival period, now more committed to catering to its libertine clientèle, a few people have claimed that the food in Las Vegas is changing, and I'd agree. There's been an infusion of celebrity chefs to join the celebrity entertainers and apparently it's no longer easy to find food on the cheap. But, at the heart of Las Vegas is the original home-style food first introduced at the Hotel El Rancho in the 40's. The last time I visited Vegas (admittedly 6 years ago) this food was still the bedrock of buffets all over town.
Moreover, you can see from a great collection of menus from the 1960's, that even if the selection wasn't as multinational back then, the idea of going out to a nice dinner in Vegas isn't new.
So food has long been part of the hedonistic experience of Las Vegas. When I think of eating in Vegas, I usually think of eating buffet style. That should have made it easy to come up with something to discuss, after all just about everything from sushi to scrambled eggs can be found in a buffet these days. But, I wanted to capture the original seedy feel of Las Vegas, the gambler's Vegas in which people who would look abnormal in the light of day.
He had found other things: the old women who played as obsessively as he did and who wore gardening gloves as they pulled the slot machine handles to fertilize a cold and stingy soil; he had seen players . . . so obese or deformed that their mere presence would elicit involuntary shouts of wonder in any town but this one, in which the facts of action made physical appearance genuinely irrelevant . . . - Last Call by Tim Powers
I remembered hearing a story about how the sandwich was named after one of the Earls of Sandwich, who favored the meal as something he could easily eat at the gambling table. It turns out there is a bit of ambiguity as to the truth of that rumor but it persists all the same.
The marvelous thing about modern sandwiches is that you can put just about anything on them. In order to tap into the feel of the Vegas that Scott Crane occupied, I decided to use some traditional Vegas buffet ingredients and make a steak sandwich. As usual, I set a challenge for myself with this recipe. You may have noticed that almost everything posted on this site is vegetarian. I do eat meat, but I rarely cook it myself. Even though it's summer, and the cooking trend is for fresh and fabulous, I decided on a hearty recipe to complement the mood of the city that never sleeps, for a sandwich appropriate to a casino in which you can hardly tell whether its night or day, much less what season it is.
Steak (or Portobello Steak) Sandwich with Carmelized Onion
Recipe adapted from - Epicurious. Steak Sandwich is pictured at top, and the Portobello one is pictured directly above.
- 1/4 cup prepared white horseradish
- 4 Tbsp (1/2 stick) butter, divided
- 2 1-inch-thick beef tenderloin steaks or 4 whole Portobello mushrooms
- 2 medium onions, thinly sliced
- 4 oz large shiitake mushrooms, stemmed, caps thinly sliced
- 1 cup beef broth
- 4 large ciabatta rolls, halved horizontally, lightly toasted
- 2 cups fresh spinach
Method
Melt 3 tablespoons butter in skillet over medium-high heat. Add onions; sauté until dark brown, about 25 minutes.
Add mushrooms; sauté until tender, about 5 minutes. Add broth; boil until juices are reduced to glaze, stirring occasionally, about 1 minute. Season onion mixture to taste with salt and pepper.
If using steak, melt 1 tablespoon butter in the same skillet over medium-high heat. Sprinkle tenderloin steaks with salt and pepper. Add steaks to skillet and cook about 3 minutes per side for medium-rare. Using tongs, transfer steaks to work surface and slice into strips. Return the strips to the skillet and stir-fry another 1-2 minutes to soak up the vegetable juices.
If using Portabello mushroom, add 3 Tbsp broth to the same skillet. Simmer on medium-low heat approximately 2 minutes on each side. Transfer mushroom to plate.
Toast ciabatta rolls. Place 1 bread bottom, cut side up, on each of 4 plates. Spread each with horseradish and top with 1/2 cup spinach leaves. Top spinach leaves with onion mixture, then with steak strips or Portabello mushroom. Place tops on sandwiches.
The steak sandwich was quite tasty. The horseradish added a nice bit of zing to the otherwise relatively mild flavors of the sandwich. The steak was excellent on the medium-rare side. I chose to cook the steak in the vegetable juices (rather than the opposite which was recommended in the original recipe) partly to keep the vegetable vegetarian, but also because I thought it would add some flavor to the meat. I'm happy to report that it worked well and that the Portobello eater also appreciated and enjoyed the mushroom sandwich.
Last Call,
Las Vegas,
mushroom,
Onions,
Portobello,
Steak,
Tim Powers
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The God of Small . . . Naan? · 20 July 2007
It seems like it’s been ages ago that I finished reading The God of Small Things. The story has run its course and left its traces in my life, as good stories should. It scattered little fragments of awareness and knowledge into the subconscious well that I try to tap and then flitted away to make room for new things. It was hurried on its way by my absorbing read of Tim Power’s Last Call and by my fun activities last weekend.
What better time then, to post my second recipe, a dish of Indian origin that’s been influenced by and adapted to American cooking?
In the God of Small Things, the characters are caught in a constant tug-of-war game. On one hand, they cling to their cultural traditions. Rahel’s family frets that she is divorced, Rahel’s mother suffers beatings from her father in silence as part of her role as the dutiful wife, and Rahel marks how the status of an Indian woman in part relies on the length of her oiled hair. On the other hand, the family fawns over Rahel’s uncle, who was educated in England, and over his English wife and daughter. They embrace The Sound of Music and, as children, Rahel and Estha idolize and imitate Julie Andrews.
My first Indian recipe was a tribute to the traditions in this book, an attempt to create as authentic of an experience as possible. I immersed myself in traditional websites and went to a local Indian market (where the only other non-Indian person shopping was a man with his Indian wife). My second recipe is an attempt to capture the way that food is influenced by culture and place, just as people are influenced by colliding with other cultures.
One of the things I love about going out for Indian food is the naan. One of the things that I love about San Diego is the awesome produce we get here. As Maia recently posted, the stone fruit here in San Diego is over the top this year. The end of the cherry season is quickly approaching, so I nabbed a bag while I could, somehow forgetting that 2 pounds of cherries is a lot for one person to eat (especially when the weather is so warm that fruit left on the counter ripens in a day). When I remembered that one of the current events over at Is My Blog Burning called for creative fruit bread recipes, it all seemed to come together. I’d make cherry filled naan and combine the best of both worlds.
After my last success with bread, I was on a yeasty high, but all the yeast based naan recipes called for traditional rising methods. I wasn’t sure I was ready to tackle yeast without the help of the bread machine, so I decided to try a baking soda recipe. I think it was a bad decision.
My naan baking attempt was fraught with difficulties. The recipe called for the naan to be baked at the highest temperature possible, close to the broiler, for 5-6 minutes. According to the instructions, the naan should “puff up” during the baking process, at which point it is almost ready, and you must watch it carefully, for fear it will burn. Sounded simple enough.
Naan take 1. Burned at 3 and a half minutes. Sticky on the inside. I decided to move the oven rack one step further from the broiler.
Naan take 2. Burned at 4 and a half minutes. Sticky on the inside. I decided to roll the naan dough thinner.
Naan take 3. 4 minutes, no burning. No puffing either. Naan was golden brown, but tough. Decided to move back up to the top oven rack and continue the thin roll.
Naan take 4. 3 and a half minutes. No burning. Sticky on the inside, tough on the outside.
Naan take 5. Left the pan in the over for 10 minutes so the heat was distributed evenly. Top shelf, 3 and a half minutes. No burning. Sticky on the inside, tough on the outside.
Naan take 6. Left out filling. Top shelf, 3 and a half minutes. No burning. Sticky on the inside, tough on the outside.
None of my naan attempts puffed. They look reasonably pretty, especially when the cherry filling is exposed before cooking them, but they don’t taste very good and they don’t look like naan. According to Mamta’s Kitchen (not the recipe I used) the leathery consistency comes from not having a hot enough oven. I think it may also have to do with the lack of yeast in the recipe I used. Has anyone made naan successfully? I’m up for another round, but I think this time, I’ll stick with the traditions of the experts.
Cherries,
Indian Food,
Stone Fruit,
The God of Small Things
Posted by fortrix
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The Melting Pot - Indian Food Meets California Culture · 13 July 2007
One of the many themes of The God of Small Things was the theme of losing one’s own culture due to Colonial influence. The book includes a heavy dose of Anglophile discussions and explorations on the effect of the English occupation of India. Though the Colonial era is gone, many countries are still struggling with their identity as independent countries, free from the rule of their colonial conquerors.
(<- Crepe) Though not always a Colonial effect, I’ve noticed that ethnic food is often diluted, or at least affected, by the country that it lands in. My sister’s boyfriend has a great story about eating “Mexican” food in Germany. His German business associates were thrilled to have a real-live Californian to critique their imported cuisine, so they marched him to the local Mexican restaurant. He ordered a burrito. What he was served was a pancake-like batter, folded over a filling of onion based vegetables, with a side of sauerkraut. As he tells it, the Germans looked expectantly at him, awaiting his reaction. “A crepe!,” he said. “You’ve served me a crepe and called it a burrito! Where are the rice and beans? The guacamole? The sour cream?” (Burrito ->) 
Which, of course, is the California conception of Mexican food. And, since we live pretty close to the border, it’s not too far from the Mexican conception of Mexican food, but it’s still not quite the same.
For the foods from The God of Small Things, I decided to recreate the effects of transporting cuisine and make two Indian dishes, one based on traditional methods, and one that’s been Anglicized. To find my traditional recipe I scoured the web for sites runs by women who grew up in India, and were trying to preserve their culture. I found a wealth of them. Saroj’s Cookbook, Ruchi’s Kitchen, and Cusine Cuisine all have dozens of varied recipes.
I also found that the Indian food that I find at restaurants (Tikka Masala, Tandoori style barbecue, Aloo Gobi, etc.) is only a small regional sampling of the many traditional Indian recipes.
In yet another instance of my world knitting itself together, I found that the mung beans I bought a few weeks ago on a whim are a traditional India dal (or pulses) ingredient. I took this as a sign and decided to make a mung (moong) dal dish. In yet another instance of me being blown off track, the mung dal dish that looked too irresistible to resist called for yellow mung. I had green. Now I have yellow and green. (Yes, I know, when it comes to new and interesting ingredients, I have little willpower).
There is a great local Indian market in my area. I was tipped off to it by San Diego Foodstuffs a few months ago and I hadn’t had a good excuse to go check it out, until now. The market was a resale/wholesale combination and they sold most ingredients in bulk. I was overwhelmed by the spice selection. Not only did they have a huge aisle devoted entirely to spices, they were so potent you could literally smell a variety of spicy aromas through the packaging as you walked the aisles of the market.
I ended up with quite a haul of spices (pictured at top) and a basketful of other traditional Indian ingredients that will be making their way into my cooking in months to come. The thing that I love about Indian food is that it’s incredibly flavorful without being laden with fat or salt, relatively easy to prepare, and freezes well. Since I’m on a limited time budget, these are all things that I look for in my daily diet.
Though England and America may have affected Indian cooking, I can guarantee that India is now affecting my cooking as well. It’s a give and take relationship, just as Arundhati Roy described in her book, The God of Small Things. The focus of cultural influence continues to shift, and new cultures are constantly colliding with each other. The only constant in cultural co-mingling is the necessary adaptation that we all deal with every time we escape out of our own cultural bubble and experience something new.
Cozy Toasted Dal (Yellow Moong Dal):
Courtesy of Kate’s Global Kitchen and inspired by Bharti Kirchner. This makes a large batch of dal, and Kate provided instructions for how to prepare part of the batch for reheating.
Mixture 1
- 2 cups yellow split mung beans
- 2 quarts water
- 1 teaspoon turmeric
- 1 whole serrano chile, or other fresh or dried hot chile (I used a fresh serrano)
Mixture 2
- 2 teaspoons salt
- 2 teaspoons sugar
- 2 teaspoons ground cumin
- 2 teaspoons ground coriander seed
Mixture 3
- 2 tablespoons mustard oil (equal parts vegetable oil and horseradish sauced may be substituted if you can’t find mustard oil)
- 2 bay leaves
- 3 tablespoons minced ginger
- 2 teaspoons minced serrano or jalapeño chile, with or without seeds (I omitted this)
- 1/2 teaspoon ajwain seeds (equal parts celery seeds and thyme may be substituted if you can’t find ajwain seeds)
- 1/2 teaspoon garam masala (The garam masala I bought is a mixture of cardamom, pepper, cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg, star-anise, and other spices)
Method:
Toast the yellow mung beans in a hot, dry skillet over medium heat, stirring frequently(yes, really, otherwise they will burn) until light brown, about 8 minutes. Rinse and drain.
While beans are toasting, boil water in a large, heavy saucepan. (Beans will expand in volume so make sure to use a large enough pan to allow for this).
After water has come to a boil, add the mung beans, turmeric and whole chile. Simmer on low, uncovered, until the beans are tender but not mushy, about 30 minutes. Stir the beans occasionally to keep them from sticking to the pot.
When the beans are tender enough to be broken easily between your thumb and finger, stir in the salt, sugar, cumin and coriander. Simmer for 3 to 5 minutes for the flavors to blend, or turn off the flame now if reheating later.
At this point the mixture can be set aside and reheated before use. Or, for a mild taste, you can serve the dal as is, skipping the remaining step. (I tend to like my Indian food mild, but I braved the final step, omitting only the extra chilis and the citris juice).
Make sure the dal is fairly warm. Just before serving, prepare Mixture 3: Heat the mustard oil on medium-low heat until hot. Add the bay leaves, ginger, and minced chile.
Stir and cook until the ginger begins to brown. Stir in the ajwain seeds and garam masala and cook for a few seconds; do not let the ajwain seeds burn. Stir the mixture into the pot of mung beans. Remove the mixture from the heat, stir in the lime or lemon juice and serve hot in small bowls or cups, with lemon or lime wedges. (Remove bay leaves before serving.)
Dal will be slightly watery after cooking and will thicken as it cools.
Though not particularly photogenic, this dish was awesome. The flavors blend together so well they are complex, yet not overpowering. Without the double dose of chilies, I wouldn’t even call it spicy. I ate it warm with whole grain bread and will be eating leftovers with rice on Sunday night.
Colonial Era,
Indian Food,
Masala,
Moong Dal,
Mung Beans,
The God of Small Things ,
Vegan,
Vegetarian
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