McRib is Back!

There are many unexplainable phenomena in our world — UFOs, Bigfoot, Carrot Top. But perhaps none more unexplainable than that culinary equivalent of a Jerry Springer show — McDonald's McRib sandwich.

The McRib sandwich has a long and storied fast food history. It originally test-marketed well in the Midwest, bombed in its national rollout, was taken off the market, and then returned to the market under the guise of no-less than 3 separate "Farewell Tours." Well it's back, as a national TV advertising campaign has made so perfectly clear.

The McRib inspires passionate acclaim from its supporters (here, here and here) and virulent criticism from its detractors. I suppose that provides some explanation for its yo-yo marketing campaign. A visit to www.mcrib.com website provides further clues as to this current marketing campaign. Proclaiming "saucy love is back," the sandwich is being promoted alongside online music downloads provided by Pandora (shame on you Pandora!, although I suppose you have to make money somehow). With the website featuring a "McRib DJ" and a strong mobile phone marketing camgaign, the current promotions are squarely targeted to teenagers and young people.

So what is an intrepid Houston Foodie to do when confronted with such a peculiar culinary phenomenon? That's right: Taste test!

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Let me start by saying I have not been to McDonald's in several years. The way I see it, a foodie setting foot in a McDonald's is kind of like a politician patronizing a titty bar — there's nothing really wrong with it, it just looks bad. So I donned some sunglasses and a baseball cap, pulled down low, and drove to my neighborhood Mickey D's. I ordered the McRib meal (4 bucks and change). I drove home with all 4 windows down, otherwise the McDonald's smell lingers forever. (Side note: Years ago I had a vegetarian girlfriend and on the rare occasion I would sneak in a McDonald's run, the next time we got into the car she would wrinkle her nose and proclaim indignantly, "You went to McDonald's!" I couldn't tell if she was offended or jealous).

Back at home, the evaluation began. Digging the paper-wrapped sandwich out of a clot of bag fries, the first thing you notice is the overwhelming smell of liquid smoke. There is nothing subtle about the BBQ sauce that the McRib sandwich is drowned in. Aside from the standard-issue bun, pickle, onions and sledge-hammer BBQ sauce, the McRib's focus is the "processed pork patty."

This processed pork patty is a wonder of engineering. Processed into a perfect oval shape with fake horizontal bumps representing either grill marks or ribs, it has a similar external texture as a hamburger patty, except the McRib patty has a duller, sicklier gray color.

Biting into the sandwich reveals a texture and consistency like no other worldly substance — variously described as "fluffy" or "mealy". The pork particles (?) seem to be bonded together in a thick, rubbery, gelatin-like suspension. Yummy!

So far, so weird. But what about the taste? Not unexpectedly, the actual flavor of the patty does elicit the slightest pork rib flavor. But after a few bites all you taste is the BBQ sauce. Overwhelmed by the liquid smoke, the patty just becomes a delivery mechanism for the BBQ sauce.

I would venture to say that the real reason hardcore fans of the McRib love it so much is simply the BBQ sauce. It's like a nuclear explosion in your mouth. The pork patty, essentially flavorless, acts as a filler with a unique "mouthfeel."

This may explain some of the unusual geographic marketing of the McRib. McDonald's only makes it available in some areas of the country. Perhaps they focus the marketing in areas that do not have big BBQ traditions so that the McRib BBQ sauce offers a more unique experience? That of course does not explain its presence in Houston, but maybe it does in Omaha. Anyway, just a guess.

After finishing off my McRib, I did indeed feel like I had just watched an episode of Jerry Springer — while it was on I was marginally entertained in an hypnotic, "watching-a-train-wreck-in-slow-motion" sort of way. But then when it was over all I could think was "What the hell was that?!"

Update 12/5/08: The New York Times has a lengthy piece on the McRib and its (un)availability. When it comes to the McRib, if you live in NYC then you're SOL.

The New Yorker finds its Texas BBQ Religion

The New Yorker Food Issue is out and Texas BBQ is front and center.

The New Yorker dispatched none other than the esteemed Calvin Trillin to report first hand on Texas Monthly's BBQ issue. It's an interesting read, although I get a bit nervous when New York or Hollywood types start sniffing around Texas institutions. Heck, half of the Hill Country is now owned by Hollywood folks (thanks for nothing McConaughey!). Fortunately, all the New York hedge fund managers are going bankrupt so even if they did decide to dabble in Texas BBQ they probably don't have the coin to do so. But I can see the headlines now: "Disgraced New York hedge fund manager used embezzled bailout money to buy up top 5 Texas BBQ joints."

My favorite takeaway quote from the article, via former Texas Monthly editor Greg Curtis: "All barbecue experts are self-proclaimed." True, true.

Update 12/11/08: Food fight! Robb Walsh calls into question the BBQ bona fides of both Trillin ("...a Kansas City barbecue fan") and Texas Monthly ("...a magazine run by a vegetarian from Queens"). Oh SNAP! The NY Times wisely withholds judgement on Texas BBQ but throws gasoline on the (mesquite) fire with a mention in the Diner's Journal blog.

Food Fight 24/7! Biba's vs. Katz's

Biba's One's A Meal lands right in the middle of lower Westheimer, taking on not just one, but two, neighborhood heavyweights.

What's not to love about Biba's One's A Meal? It is, after all, a Houston institution. John Katsimikis has been serving up gyros, pizzas, pancakes, opinions, and personal advice to generations of families, hipsters, neighborhood miscreants and drunken party-goers for what seems like forever.

Of course the W. Gray location was showing its age for some time. The announcement that Biba's would be moving to 812 Montrose, in the old Rouge restaurant space, was met with great anticipation by Biba's many regulars.

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It seems to be a successful move. A recent Saturday morning visit found John presiding over everything and the tables filled with regulars.

The new location, when considered by itself, looks like a great move. Montrose and Westheimer is a great place for a 24-hour diner. But when taken in context, the location proves to be quite interesting. Not 200 feet away, of course, is the 500 pound gorilla of 24-hour Houston diner/delis — Katz's. Is there enough of a market in this area for two 24-hour diners side-by-side? Probably. Anyway, it should be interesting to watch this competition play out.

But Biba's is not just a diner, it's also a Greek restaurant. And again, the new location is provocative to say the least. Not 2 blocks away is the 500 pound gorilla of Houston Greek restaurants — Niko Niko's. Is there a big enough market for 2 Greek restaurants in such close proximity? Very probably, considering the ubiquitous long lines at Niko's.

Update 11/17/08: Today Alison Cook added Biba's chili cheeseburger to her ongoing list of burger reviews.

Link Feast: 11.14.08

The High Price of Cheap Food - Ironically, high food prices makes Americans fat, not skinny.

Chocolate-covered Bacon - 'nuff said.

Chocolate in the Boondocks - This has foodie road-trip written all over it.

Best Seafood Restaurant: Reef - So says Bon Appetit. They decided. And an excellent decision it was.

Houston-area Restaurants Tightening Their Belts - Pun intended?

Stealthy Shrinking of Containers Keeps Prices from Rising - Just confirms what many of us suspected already.

Grotesquely Overpriced Bunny-food Emporium - Hilarious, Brit-style send-up of Whole Foods.

Sartin's gets a shout-out from the Dirty South

Errr, I mean the "New South" as defined by the provocatively titled Garden & Gun Magazine.

When I got a tip about an interesting new Southern lifestyle magazine called Garden & Gun, I immediately envisioned big...haired women in American-flag bikinis posing with assault rifles. But to my surprise it was a nicely-designed website with professional features and copy. Promising.

Of specific interest was a feature called 100 Southern Foods You Absolutely, Positively Must Try Before You Die. It's a groovy interactive map of the South spotlighting foodie joints. And not just the usual, expected highlights of Southern cuisine, but some real unexpected finds.

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Of personal interest to me was one of 3 entries for seafood in Texas: Sartin's in Nederland, home of the all-you-can-eat Barbecue Crab platter. For anyone who grew up in deep Southeast Texas, the name "Sartin's" has a special meaning. Starting with its slogan "Giving people crabs since 1971," the often colorful and always delicious history of Sartin's belies a dedication to a unique culinary art that originated in the tiny town of Sabine Pass, Texas.

A "Barbecue Crab" is, of course, a misnomer. There is no smoke or grilling involved. Back in the 1940s a cook at Granger's Restaurant in Sabine Pass had the inspired idea to take a cleaned blue crab — plentiful along the Gulf Coast — smother it in a dry rub traditionally made up of Sexton's Alamo Zestful Seasoning, and then deep fry it to crispy perfection.

Many years later, in the 1970s, Sartin's Seafood restaurant in Sabine Pass took up the cause and perfected the BBQ Crab with their own secret rub. From there, Sartin's restaurants opened throughout Southeast Texas, including Beaumont where I grew up and came to love the heapin' helpin' of all-you-can-eat BBQ crab.

In the ensuing years, hurricanes and family squabbles have divided Sartin's into the Nederland Sartin's and then a number of Sartin's around Beaumont and Houston. Not unexpectedly, litigation ensued over the Sartin's trademark (if any city has more lawyers than Houston, it's Beaumont).

The original Sartin's Restaurant in Beaumont on the Eastex freeway was toppled by Hurricane Rita in 2005. Many memories of my misspent youth were toppled with it. I remember the long picnic tables decorated only with rolls of paper towels, paper plates, and plastic bibs, with the young waitresses in t-shirts and shorts carrying towering trays of BBQ crabs to your table. Of particular note: this is where the plan for my first business was hatched on November 26th, 1994. Sketched up on the back of a paper plate (rather than on the back of a napkin — it's a SE Texas thing), the presentation didn't exactly impress any VC's so we ended up bootstrapping it. That business is still around today.

If only the original Sartin's could have lasted as long.

New Foodie Destination: Lone Star Culinary

This self-proclaimed "spice market" is a great new resource for Houston's foodie culture.

Lone Star Culinary
2503 Link Rd. (at Airline, across from Canino's)
Houston, TX 77009

So I was walking back to my car at Canino Market this weekend and glancing across Airline Drive my eye caught the words "spice market." For a foodie, the words "spice market" are always a good sign. Visions of frankincense and myrrh, Marco Polo and the spice road, the Grand Bazaar in Instanbul, spice-laden camel caravans in Yemen all come to mind. OK, this wasn't quite so romantic, but Lone Star Culinary, as this spice market is called, is a great new destination for vicarious foodie travel.

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Once inside, one whole wall of the store is given over to powdered spices. It's an impressive lineup. The store has only been open for about a month so some of the containers have yet to be filled, but the breadth and depth of this spice collection is great.

The opposite wall of the store is home to an encyclopedic collection of dried herbs, spices and teas. What wall space that's left over is filled with a flat screen TV tuned to the Food Network. Nice touch.

The center of the store has shelves containing interesting foodie gewgaws and knickknacks, many of an Hispanic and Mexican-American variety.

I encourage all my fellow Houston Foodies to patronize Lone Star Culinary. This is a great addition to the Houston Foodie scene.

Whole Foods gets a bailout; Luby's doesn't - yet

Not unexpectedly, the economic tough times are taking a toll on high-end supermarkets like Whole Foods. But there's always someone willing to throw good money after bad.

Whole Foods had a bad quarter. No big surprise. Fortunately a sugar-daddy stepped in with a wad of cash to provide the "financial flexibility to manage through these difficult economic times." We'll see.

For a hilarious take on the Whole Foods phenomenon including the recent troubles, check out Tim Hayward at the Gaurdian. He actually called Whole Foods a "grotesquely overpriced bunny-food emporium." And I thought I was hard on Whole Foods!

Meanwhile, Luby's reported a 3.7 million dollar loss for the quarter. Ouch. I guess the price increase hasn't kicked in yet.