Adam Matthews - Quality Journalism Since 1997

	Adam Matthews Journalist Updates

Updates Articles Biography Photos Links Contact	Taking Flight June 29, 2008 06:38 AM A recent issue of Saveur features a tribute to Duncan Hines, whose mission was to free Americans from inedible highway food with his guidebooks to good eating. For chowhounds, the interstate system is a black hole of homogenized hot garbage. The grub proffered at the highway gas stations/rest stops/gift shops/food courts (notice the order) is a short step above pet food. Apparently, me and the cake mix cover boy are simpatico. I’ve long prided myself on the ability turn off the Interstate and trust my instincts. This has yielded very serviceable South Carolinian soul food, New Haven’s superlative Frank Pepe’s pizza and decent Jamaican oxtail stew in Stamford. But everyone has slumps. Things haven’t gone as swimmingly lately. In the last four days, I drove from NY to DC to Pittsburgh to Toronto. I started with New Orleans food in Jersey. The gumbo tasted like gravy studded with Pollock-based crab stick; the crab cakes were redolent of Castrol. I dumped the whole mess 15 percent in. The very next day, with the clock ticking (outside of New York, restaurant kitchens close at 9:00), I ordered Mex in the Pittsburgh countryside. The results were almost as unpalatable. Imagine high school cafeteria grade ground beef crammed into hard shell tacos. The same briny beef appeared in enchiladas, a bargain at just 5 bucks. Not really, though. The road salt seasoned meat was drenched in a goopy crimson slop somewhere between Mole and red sauce. The whole mess was crowned with some inedible cheese product -- the bastard child of queso Blanco and cheese wiz. Anxious to prove myself, the next day wifey and I headed north on Interstate 79, braving 100 miles of countryside before reaching Erie, a graying post-industrial city near Buffalo. I opted for Alfee’s, which boasted the best wings in town on their Italian themed awning. Since Anchor Bar owner Teressa Bellissimo invented Buffalo wings some 44 years ago nearby, I figured it a safe bet. The diminutive wings came bathed in equal amounts of butter and hot sauce. The medium were perfectly piquant, and soothed by smooth blue cheese sauce. Perfect. No so for the sandwich. Salami and capicollo were crammed into a toasted hero roll alongside bargain basement lettuce and several sleazy slices of provolone. The whole matter was drenched in low grade cooking oil, accentuating the sodium nitrate in the luncheon meat. There is obviously a lesson here. Eating well on Interstates requires picking food uniquely American in genesis. Great American dishes – Chicago Italian Beef, Philly Cheesesteak, New Orleans’ po boy, Buffalo wings, BBQ – are local standards often invented by accident. Once you’ve had a real Italian Panini, the Italian-American equivalent, the kitchen sink hero tastes like salinated overkill, a loud and greasy imitator. I’ll stick with the lowly chicken wing instead, the result of a happy accident. And I don’t want to speak for Duncan, who passed tragically in 1959, five years before Bellismo birthed her glorious wing, but I am guessing he’d do the same. Noble Cumming June 01, 2008 02:11 PM Noble Cumming is re-tooling my website. He knows something about tooling! Check out his most recent opus. Excessive Force? March 07, 2007 05:49 PM The April issue of King features my report on the tension between the NYPD and the city's young black men. It's been over three months since Sean Bell's shooting; no indictments have been handed down. I learned a lot through reporting the piece. I was suprised to learn how many young black men in New York -- including countless friends -- have been victims of harrassment, brutality and even trumped-up charges.