W10: IS IT A SANDWICH?!?!?!

Not A Sandwich

Regarding the subject of identifying sandwiches from other food items, United States Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart once famously declared "I know it when I see it." I'll have to agree with Stewart on this call. If I was forced to define the term "sandwich," I'd describe it as a meal in which some type of edible material was stacked in between two pieces of bread-product. Or Something. Sure, it may be a hazy definition filled with plenty of gray matter (or hopefully not, in the case of an actual sandwich), but I refuse to go through life as a narrow minded buffoon who maintains a strict definition of a sandwich. Not everything can be answered with a strictly black-and-white response; some things are more complicated than that, and those things are usually sandwiches.

The most common question I receive throughout the course of a day is "but Milo, if you define a sandwich as 'some type of edible material was stacked in between two pieces of bread-product' then, pray tell, how would you define something as simple as the common hot dog?" Unfortunately, I haven't an answer to this vast and complex query. By sheer definition, there shouldn't be anything wrong with calling a hot dog a sandwich. The hot dog is (arguably) made out of meat, and it's layered in a bun; buns, being a food item that bread is in! It all should add up, but when you yell "I'll have a sandwich with mayonnaise and relish!" to a hot dog vendor at a sporting event, you're bound to receive some questioning glares from those sitting around you. Not only because hot dogs are rarely thought of to be "sandwiches," but because mayonnaise and relish is a disgusting combination and nobody should put both on their food.

Another question that keeps me up at night is "if sandwiches are covered back-to-back in bread products, then what's a Double-Down?" The Double-Down, a KFC product, is a meal consisting of melted cheese and bacon in between two deep fried pieces of chicken. There is no bread to be had, yet the item is advertised as a "sandwich" on KFC's website. Is this false advertising? Additionally, how does one going about describing another fast food mainstay- the quesadilla? What about a crepe? Sure, they're stringy and kind of pointless without enormous dollops of Nutella, but surely there's a case to be made. Why should these items be spurned the "sandwich" label while others reap in it's starchy delight, and roll around in doughy fortunes?

Many of Taco Bell's products could largely be thought of as "sandwiches" according to my vague definition. They contain filling, and are surrounded by bread-product. It's here that I, once more, implore the reader to exercise their own judgment. When you think of a crunch wrap supreme, is the first thought that springs to mind "boy howdy, can't wait to get my hands on one of those tasty sandwiches!" Of course not. It's time for our generation to set this straight and take a stand for what's right, once and for all. While it may fit under many basic definitions, a quesadilla, crepe, or hot dog is anything but a sandwich, and should never be treated as such.

W9: All American Dinner At Nelson Dining Hall: A Review!

AMURRRICA

The morning of February 22nd felt like any other. I woke up, showered, got dressed and headed out the door to attend class. As I strolled past the Nelson Dining Hall, however, I noticed an abundance of balloons hanging outside the doors. Not just any balloons; these were red, white, and blue balloons! "Those...those are America's colors!" I loudly declared, drawing the attention of everyone passing by. Upon further inspection, I discovered a flier announcing Nelson's "All American Dinner," being featured that night. Eagerly anticipating that night's events, I grabbed a balloon and texted my friends to accompany me for dinner that night.



At 4:30 on the dot, we arrived at Nelson fully prepared to consume excessive amounts of delicious American food. Greeting us at the door was an enlarged Hot Dog mascot; according to his name-tag, this delightful fellow was named Frank. As far as good signs go, this simply had to be an omen of good things to come. Using every inch of the ballroom next to the dining tables, Nelson employees decorated the room with bright streamers and American flags. Each item on the night's menu was portrayed as a trademark of one of five major American locations: New York, Boston, Santa Fe, Texas, and Philadelphia. Being the culinary expert that I am, I decided to try one of every dish offered; strictly, of course, for academic purposes.

I began my meal with a bowl of Lobster Bisque soup. I found this appetizer to be a tad disappointing; I consider myself a fan of any and all things "bisque," and this bowl of soup didn't quite seem to live up to that label. Thick and viscous, this soup wasn't easy to consume, and didn't have the rich, creamy texture one would look for while eating Lobster Bisque. Also available from the seafood department were imitation crab cakes. Personally, I'm not as opposed to the concept of imitation crab meat as others, but the manner in which the cakes were deep fried until unrecognizable made them unappealing.

Moving onto the main courses, I indulged in baby back ribs, New York strip steak, and prime rib. The baby back ribs were delicious, but both types of steak contained more fat than I had hoped for. Additionally, the prime rib appeared well done from the outside, but was underdone and chewy inside. For desert I feasted on a piece of Boston Creme Pie, and called it a night.

All things considered, I would have to consider Nelson's All American Dinner an emotional roller coaster. The balloons and hot dog mascot were major positives, with most other aspects coming up short of my expectations. While it remains amusing to think of Ohio University storing away a giant Hot Dog costume just for special occasions, the lack of quality in the steaks prepared was disheartening, and left me wondering if more effort could have been put into this patriotic potluck.

Week 8: The Moral Crusade Against Foodies

In the battle between foodies and author B.R. Myers, I suppose I'll just root for a fair fight. I find myself to be an easily persuaded reader at times; the most visceral arguments can rapidly sway me into agreeing with the author, no matter how absurd the topic at hand is. I am, in short, Myers' target audience with this article. "What?! How dare those rich, elitist fat-cat foodies talk down to us middle class folk! My local senator will hear about this!" I hypothetically could have been declaring, in between bites of fictional Doritos. Instead, using the trusted editorial method of "pummel the reader with your opinion until they're left confused and frightened," Myers overwhelmed me with large doses of opinion rather than stating the facts, and let the reader arrive at their own conclusion.

Throughout the article Myers makes no secret of his disdain for foodies everywhere. From the beginning, he portrays them in a light that suggests an elitist view on their end ("It has always been crucial to the gourmet’s pleasure that he eat in ways the mainstream cannot afford."). A reader unfamiliar with the work of Kim Severson, or Anthony Bourdain would almost undeniably encounter a somewhat pompous tone. This is the main flaw of Myers' piece. These things are so evident that listing egotistical quotes from foodies, and then leaving remarks such as "A vegetarian diet, in other words? Please." emits the tone of a disgruntled reader leaving an anonymous blog comment rather than an established editorial writer expressing his educated view.

Perhaps my primary gripe with this article is the "inside the box" mentality Myers writes with. It's easy to repeatedly state the opinion that foodie writers are condescending and arrogant. Myers never makes an effort, however, to explain or ask why foodie writers engage in this genre. I find this question to be far more relevant to the subject at hand than any addressed by Myers. There's clearly a market for this brand of literature and media; there's no use in bashing all who participate in it as "gluttons." Food is something vital to the lives of everyone, and Myers did a weak job arguing why he thinks releasing books or other program on that subject matter is morally wrong.

I would have really enjoyed being on Myers' side after reading this article. There are certainly elements to this piece I agree with. One should certainly feel a degree of moral emptiness after stating "I’ve eaten raw seal, guinea pig. I’ve eaten bat." This is far from the only example of wastefulness in the world, however. People spend more money than they have to attend or support sporting events when they could be donating to charities. People attend concerts and purchase music when that money could well have been used to give to a homeless shelter. Likewise, people spend money on exotic foods and review them for people's entertainment because there's a market for it. It doesn't make them, or the consumer bad people for showing an interest. Myers could have hooked me along his bandwagon with this article; instead I came away thinking he had a few good points, but was severely mis-guided.