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Matzo Ball Soup{Worries Go Down Better With Soup}

New York City, fashion mecca and land of the Bubby.  As long as my memories go back, I have had this very hazy picture of eating corned beef, and not just any corned beef. . .corned beef from the deli promised land, nay the deli center of the universe, the Carnegie Deli.  Where the words “extra lean, half sour, and Russian dressing” float through the air on smooth currents of “chopped liver”.  Every grey haired man here was a potential grandpa or perhaps a not so distant relative of your great uncle’s cousin, Sheila.

So you sit there, and as you wait you feast on pickled tomatoes and other briny delectables from the pickle spectrum.  And then, sheer glee, my five year old life was complete! In front of me appeared, as if by magic, the most luscious ruby layers of warm corned beef stacked mountainously high between two rye encrusted cushions.

Oh yes, Bubby’s favorite color just might have been black, and she also may have slept in curlers, and she may not have let me play with the little glass boxes on her side table in her living room, but the food in Bubby’s city really had some  panache! Read the rest of this entry »


Smoke House SignWhen you walk through those double doors, you disappear through a time warp.  The bright California sun outside, a distant memory.  The heavy wood beams, brick, and red vinyl carry you back.  Back to the days when music was not electronic, but rather a cool croon from a talented vocalist with brass and strings as backup in dim comforting circles of light.  Where a Hollywood starlet and her beau  would dine on steak and potatoes rather than iceberg lettuce and saltines or the new fad raw diet.   Where is this place? The answer, is Burbank, and with a heavy heart I acknowledge the Smoke House Restaurant as one of the disappearing classic American eateries. Read the rest of this entry »