In Search of Q, Inside the Beltway

We've been told not to bother with the Q in the District. The good stuff is in deep far-away Virginia. However, necessity (an empty tummy after a day of moving) is the mother of invention (taking advantage of what's at hand), so this past Monday we tried Kenny's. It's around 8th and Maryland NE in Capitol Hill, so within walking distance of our new abode. We went with chopped pork sandwiches per usual, the standard against which I tend to measure a purveyor of Q. After a little wait and some super-sweet Nestea from the cold drink dispenser, we got massive sandwiches with sauce and slaw on the side. I could have used only about half as much meat, since the bun was so full it couldn't accommodate any slaw.



The meat was decent, not the best quality, but sufficient. (I think it isn't cooked in-house, since there isn't an overwhelming smell of it outside and it was served from a steam table. So it has that warmed-up-leftover taste that not-the-very-best meat gets.) The medium sauce had a little kick and was thin and runny, so it could get down in all the little runnels and rivulets in the meat. The bun was yellow and sweetish, like an egg or kaiser roll (weird). In all, a good place to scratch a sudden and ineffable itch, but perhaps not the place to go for serious, contemplative Q. I wonder how the beef is.....

postscript: Kenny's serves up a full compliment of meat-and-three sides, like greens, red beans and rice, macaroni and cheese, black eyed peas, etc. I noticed on the way out with our porky load that you can get a plate of three sides with cornbread for $7. Since I have recently been lamenting the lack of a good cafeteria around here, this will be m choice next time....

Capitol Hill Pumpkins

Happy Halloween!

Unfinished Business: Dallas Photo Essay: Centraltrak

In Search of Q, Part 2

To any regular patrons of the Atwater Village Farmers’ Market on Sundays, this is old news. I, however, tend to be a weekend lay-a-bed, so it was not til a couple weeks ago when I had a craving for tamales that my nose led me to the source of my newest barbecue crush: Bigmista. That weekend I demurred, going instead with the old tamale standby for lunch (pork and sweet corn, obviously). M suggested that, even though my nose was swooning for the heady aroma of wood smoke and melting fat, I didn’t want to get my hopes up to have them dashed by subpar Q. So when we got home, I did some research and discovered other bloggers raving about Bigmista. I resolved to give him a try…

This past Sunday, we did just that. Two Mini Mistas (a sandwich, a side, a cold drink), both with pulled pork, one with beans, one with potato salad (cole slaw was gone by 12:30). I focused on the meat first, after pouring out my little plastic cuplet of sauce and dipping my finger in—sweet and smoky, black-peppery like what I encountered in Illinois. I sampled the meat with my fingers too, since it overflowed the bun. MMMM! Tender juiciness, just the right amount of slick greasiness, it rivaled Whole Hog, my personal back-home favorite, next to McClard’s (which, really, you go to for the atmosphere and maybe the tamales, which are wholely different from tamales as experienced out here, served with ketchup and Saltines).

I took home a catering menu, from which I can order meat and sides by the pound. I think Bigmista is going to be making an appearance at the upcoming Team M 30th Birthday Party. Be prepared with your wet naps.

***
ps – oh! The potato salad! So good, made with mustard like it ought to be, like my Aunt Inez used to do. I think she would approve.

Neighborhood News

Last weekend there was a shooting in my neighborhood of LA, Echo Park. In total, two men were killed, one wounded, and one suspect apprehended. Police say the shootings were the result of an internal dispute among leaders and members of the EXP gang.

I was especially disturbed when I first learned about the shooting because of its location: in the middle of one of the neighborhood’s main avenues which is always covered up with pedestrians, bicycles, and cars, across the street from an elementary school and a coffee shop. Granted, it was Sunday afternoon, so school was not in session, but I’m sure there were still plenty of kids and other locals out and about. So what gives, gang bangers? Don’t shoot up the place, and keep your violence to yourselves.

However, I also know that these gang members and their gang are long-time fixtures of the neighborhood, just like the elementary school and the little markets that dot the avenue. I know too that they view the neighborhood as theirs, and a white-skinned, light-haired person like me is just one of those newbies who doesn’t understand, doesn’t want to be educated about the neighborhood’s real culture, and never will really belong here.

At least, that’s the message I’ve gotten from reading the postings on several neighborhood blogs and listservs in the past few days. Incidents like this one bring up to the surface our divisions, differences, and beefs, perceived or otherwise. Discussions about this event seem to have instantly generated comments about the increase of white residents in the neighborhood over the past 10 years, the lack of respect given the old residents by the new ones, and the ignorance of the new residents when confronted with the realities and mores of the previous generations.

I’m not entirely sure what the two things have to do with each other, or why these subjects are so quickly related. I didn’t realize any one race or ethnicity had corned the market on hopes for bullet-free walks down the street, or that the wish for such could be understood as disrespect. Isn’t it natural for us all to want a safe place to coffee-sip, porch-sit, shoot the breeze (not each other!) and watch kids play?

The recent conflict over these questions makes me feel bad. I'm pretty sure that we do indeed all want the same basic things in life, but our outside differences are just too much for us to overcome in order to find that common ground.

magical mystery mattress man

i see this guy very often on my way to my studio. his stack looks a little bit different every day. with luck, i'll someday get to see him working on it. for now, looks like a magical process to me.

not so fast...

I stole this photo from another blog—I think maybe it was Curbed LA? Anyway, I am going to snap and make some similar signs one of these days, because I feel the same way about traffic on my tiny little wind-y ass street in Silver Lake, which people who do not live here think is the most ingenious shortcut ever. And a big wide highway to boot. Bleh.