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I spent a lot of time flying around this year — my frequent flyer account tells me 127,000 miles flown ytd — and the one thing that makes me not regret all those hours spent on planes next to a bunch of C.O.S. is all of the time I was lucky enough to spend experiencing a bunch of different cultures and cuisines. It’s easy to say that no time was more enjoyable than my exploration of Italy with my good friend Courtney, who has been the most amazing guide to all things good in not only Italy, but in life.

With it being the end of the year, I’m guessing that everyone is either on a beach, a ski slope or killing time (at home or work) on the internets. So I figured it would be a good time to think about the places and adventures that will shape 2012. This idea came to me recently while watching every episode of Anthony Bourdain’s food / travel show The Layover. I missed all of these shows when they originally aired (because I don’t really have any time to watch teevee), but thankfully all of the shows are available online and for me to share with you here.

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My family has always had a theory that the uglier and more out of the way a restaurant, the better the food. When I was a kid, my dad was under the impression that there was nothing worth eating in our suburban Chicago town, so we routinely found ourselves at 65 Restaurant in Chinatown, which had a giant red and gold Buddha in the entrance and a wonton soup to which I compare all others.

I felt a little out of the loop when other kids would talk about eating deep-dish pizza from our local Giordano’s chain, but we had Buffo’s; a sleazier, wood-paneled joint 45 minutes from home with decidedly better pizza. While it used to annoy me, I’ve come to embrace the theory wholeheartedly as I’ve gotten older. It’s no secret that restaurants that look like they’ve stood the test of time tend to serve great food, or maybe food just tastes better when you have to work a little for it.

Either way, Salumeria Biellese is one of those places. If it weren’t for the sun-faded press clippings and awards plastered all over one of the font windows, you could walk by every day and not realize that it offered anything to distinguish it from the hundreds of other generic corner delis in the city. It resides on a stretch of 8th Avenue below Penn Station with little to lure in crowds besides superior encased meats. While locavorism and slow food have become increasingly popular in recent years, Salumeria Biellese has been making its own cured meats and sausages since 1925. They expanded operations to New Jersey a few years ago, but local family farms continue to supply all of their meat (mainly Berkshire hogs), and the salumi are based on traditional Piedmontese recipes.

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The diner is a rightly beloved cultural institution, and yet it remains a curious one. In one sense they all resemble one another—you could order in any diner without referring to a menu. And yet they also reflect their owners and neighborhoods—they may have an unexpected specialty or insist on serving something only one way. (We won’t get into the hash browns v. home fries debate at the moment, though it is a rich one.)

Consider the Viand, on Madison Avenue and 61st Street. It’s near Barneys and Hermes, not the exact provenance of a fried eggs and bacon—unless you’re ordering room service at The Pierre. The Viand is narrow—the booths are only one person wide—and nearly always crowded with one of the more unusual cross-sections of diners in the city. You may sit at the counter next to a high-powered lawyer or a woman who would typically lunch in a far tonier setting. But it’s not always an overly smart crowd, you come across tourists, office workers, shopping Europeans. It’s local and international at the same time, which is to say, it’s a uniquely New York institution.

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Today’s Wall Street Journal has an interesting article by Jessica Firger about Master Purveyors, supplier to many of New York’s “institution” steakhouses like Keens and Peter Luger. The old-school butcher is one of the last remaining companies in N.Y. that specializes in “Prime” cuts of beef, which need to be cut, hung and handled entirely by hand to ensure the high quality meat retains its “Prime” classification and to make sure it is perfect when cooked and subsequently devoured.

The meat has just completed an overnight haul from Chicago, but its journey through one of the world’s largest wholesale food markets to the plates of New York City’s finest steakhouses has just begun. “This came to us today and it was walking on Friday,” says Sam Solasz, 83 years old, who opened wholesaler Master Purveyors more than 50 years ago.

Master Purveyors specializes in prime fresh and dry-aged Angus beef, served at renowned restaurants like Keens Steakhouse, Peter Luger, Wolfgang’s Steakhouse, Gotham Bar and Grill and the Four Seasons, as well as at markets like Fairway. Only 2% of U.S. cattle are graded “prime,” a label that normally commands twice the price of “choice” or “select” meats.

“We’re the last of the Mohicans,” says Mark Solasz, 48, assistant vice president at Master Purveyors and Sam Solasz’s youngest son. “It’s a dying industry because it’s hard work.”

Read the entire article here.

Photos by Natalie Keyssar for The Wall Street Journal.

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While in Austin a few weeks back we popped into Lamberts for a quick bite and a break from the chaos that is SXSW. The intention was to saddle up to the bar and dine on some of the tasty food that Lamberts has become known for. While tempted by the aromas of the slow smoked meats, we instead veered slightly off course and selected the Frito Pie, a decision that will reverberate for years to come in the form of cravings for a dish in a far away city.

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Slyman's in Cleveland, Ohio.

The corned beef sandwich is a very important part of a man’s diet. The practice of eating such delectable meats dates back to Ireland in the 12th century, where the salted beef was first referenced in the poem Aislinge Meic Con Glinne. The poem tells the tale of King Cathal mac Finguine and and his desire to purge himself of his obsession with food and the “demon of gluttony.”

During his battle with gluttony King Cathal mac Finguine had a vision of a land made entirely of food (from Wikipedia):

The fort we reached was beautiful,
With works of custards thick,
Beyond the loch.
New butter was the bridge in front,
The rubble dyke was wheaten white,
Bacon the palisade.

Stately, pleasantly it sat,
A compact house and strong.
Then I went in:
The door of it was dry meat,
The threshold was bare bread,
cheese-curds the sides.

Smooth pillars of old cheese,
And sappy bacon props
Alternate ranged;
Fine beams of mellow cream,
White rafters – real curds,
Kept up the house.

Can’t say I haven’t been there myself, King.

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To me, the bread is by far the most important part of the post-Thanksgiving leftover turkey sandwich. The harvest holiday is the one time of the year that I would specifically make a point of eating white bread (and Wonder Bread at that), because it makes a turkey sandwich that much better. Well, this year, I took the white bread turkey sandwich to a whole new level. My last stop in Manhattan before my drive to Ohio was at Takahachi — a newish Japanese bakery in TriBeCa. If you have ever been to Japan, you will know very well the Japanese love of baked goods. They execute bread better than any country with the exception of France. Thankfully, places like Takahachi, Cafe Zaiya and a few other NY based spots supply people like me with the much coveted and utterly amazing Japanese white bread. The bread is super soft with a perfect outer crust and it is so delicious that it makes almost every sandwich taste better. If you have already consumed all of your left over turkey, deploy it for a grilled cheese with soup, which is almost as satisfying. The bread comes in two thicknesses (thick or thin) and no matter which loaf you pick will not be disappointed. White bread from Takahachi will set you back $3.50 and could be the best thing to happen to a sandwich since sliced bread.

Takahachi Bakery | 25 Murray Street (at Church Street) | (212) 791-5550

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The quest for the ultimate American burger mandated a stop at King’s Place in Miesville, Minnesota a wonderful destination for burger enjoyment. King’s Place is a classic Midwestern bar and grill situated amongst the corn fields of Minnesota. While the burgers aren’t huge (in fact they are quite manageable) the variety is overwhelmingly awesome. King’s offers 53 different burger varietals including everything from bacon to mayo to avocado to peanut butter — everything you could ever want. Some of the more exotic menu options have a note next to them where the folks at King’s nudge you to “trust us” and go for it. After my visit, that is definitely the play at King’s. Get one safe burger and one adventurous option that you won’t have anywhere else. Wash em down with a Mr. Pibb (no Dr. Pepper) or a couple of cold ones and you are all set. Long live King’s Place and long live the great American burger.

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One day out of the blue I got an email from Gabriel Stulman — the guy behind a few of New York’s smallest and most loved restaurants (Joseph Leonard, et. al.) — inviting me to lunch sometime. If you have ever been to Joseph Leonard you will understand Gabriel and I share an aesthetic, something that was further established for me the first time we met. That was about a year ago and it was near the beginning of the process of planning Gabriel’s newest spot, Jeffery’s Grocery. The concept is oyster bar meets local grocery meets late night drinks-and-a-sandwich. destination.  Eventually, our shared appreciation for vintage American aesthetics led to a series of discussions and meetings over the next several months where Gabriel and I would meet to talk about the look and feel for Jeffrey’s. We discussed everything from the colors of the wood that made up the bar, to the beadboard, the employee uniforms (which are from Levi’s, Gitman Bros. Vintage, Kenton Sorenson Leather, Stanley & Sons and The Hill-Side; more on that here soon) and all of the little design details and layout that goes into making a place unique. I’d even see Gabriel and his fiancé Gina up at Brimfield with all sorts of cool old stuff that was destined for Jeffrey’s. It was obvious  early on that Jeffrey’s was going to me my type of place.

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Grand Central Station is one of the only New York City tourist destinations that I can stomach, and I mean that literally. Tucked away in one of the giant building’s cavernous hallways is a piece of quintessential New York — the Oyster Bar. It’s a great place to kill time drinking beer while waiting for Metro North. Oyster Bar is also a great place for a solo lunch. When I want to escape for a half an hour I sit at the bar, drink a nice cold draft beer and put the hurt on some oysters or a lobster roll. L-I-V-I-N.

More photos here.

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John Tinseth and I met sometime in 2008, back when I worked with J. Press. We met up one night for drinks with a mutual friend. I think John got stuck with the tab that night (which if memory serves was around $300; not that he has let me forget it).  In my defense, I would have happily paid, I’m not one to skip on a check especially when lubricated. Anyway, John started his website The Trad around the time I started ACL. The Trad is a little bit older actually — a fact I’m sure Tinseth enjoys privately. Well, it is at least something he doesn’t relish in front of me. Which is nice of him.

Tinseth and I hit it off immediately — the man is easily one of the best story tellers I have ever met in my life. Shit, add liquor into that mix and you have yourself one hell of an evening, which we always do. I don’t want John to get a big head, but The Trad is by far my favorite blog to read — especially since I know John and how he is in real life. Even if I didn’t know him I’m sure I would still love it. Tinseth has the rare skill of being a great story teller, but also being able to put those stories into words. I don’t know why he hasn’t been offered a book yet.

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Part of my July 4th weekend was spent in the most delicious way, baking southern-style biscuits. I asked my mother to supervise while I attempted to become a skilled and successful Yankee biscuit maker — something the Lee Brothers seemed to have accomplished. So I spent several hours making and tasting rolled biscuits (I haven’t even attempted drop biscuits, but they have to be easier to make), trying to get the rise just right and the insides fluffy and perfect. I should say that I’m not much of a cook and I am even less of a baker, but I really just want to master this one skill. I want to become a champion biscuit maker so I can selfishly enjoy my own creations, and also so I can impress people. Shit, I want to impress people from the south. At the end of the day, I just don’t want to have to drive to Sunrise Biscuit Kitchen in Chapel Hill to get a good biscuit. While my quest of biscuit cookery continues, I wonder who has the best biscuits in New York. And in that same thought, who makes the best biscuits in the world?

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