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| flickr photo by Imperpay |
I believe Philippe's side of the story, because they do it up right. We're talking slices of beef served on a crisp French roll dipped in an au jus that is literally the nectar of the gods. (If you're a vegetarian, there's lots of sides and I'm sure you can get a pretty good cheese sandwich there.)
Here's the story of how bread, beef and au ju formed a menage a trois of deliciousness, changing forever the face of the hot sandwich industry. The restaurant website explains that "Eureka!" moment:
One day in 1918, while making a sandwich, founder Philippe Matthieu "inadvertently dropped the sliced French roll into the roasting pan filled with juice still hot from the oven.
The patron, a policeman, said he would take the sandwich anyway and returned the next day with some friends asking for more dipped sandwiches. And so was born the 'French Dipped Sandwich,' so called either because of Mathieu's French heritage, the French roll the sandwich is made on or because the officer's name was French. The answer is lost to history."
It's easy to get lost in history at Phillipe's.
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| flickr photo by Mike |
Come to think of it, there is some pretty good and cheap cafeteria dining at Ikea. On the next cold winter's day, when you can't think of what to do with yourself and your kids, you might want to ponder hitting up the Ikea.
Going through the store gives you decorating ideas, even if you don't much money to spend, many Ikeas have a play place where you can drop off the little ones, and they have some cute gift items there that are pretty cheap. And the prices for comfort food like Swedish meatballs and macaroni and cheese in the cafeteria are great.
But I digress.
Philippe's is old-school in so many ways. There is sawdust on the floor, you eat on these long communal tables, they only take cash and their coffee is 45 cents. Every table is equipped with Philippe's "Hot But Good" mustard. It is heavy on the horseradish and, if you use enough, it will clear you sinuses. Once you get used to it and even come to love it, as I have, the extreme heat is actually a bit of a high!
You can buy this kick-ass condiment in person at the restaurant (101 N. Alameda St. in Los Angeles) or you can stock up online on the Philippe's website. It's $5, making it an affordable gift to your self or to someone on your holiday shopping list.
And now, it's time for me to toot my own horn, sharing a recent culinary epiphany I had, thanks to the inspiration of Philippe's amazing mustard.
I had just fried up some chicken tenders when it occurred to me that honey mustard dressing is one of the best dipping sauces around. I found some clover honey, mixed it up with the mustard and, wow, that was some gourmet dipping sauce. I'm going to try it on a salad next.
I like to imagine that the judges in the kitchen of the reality cooking show "Chopped" would exclaim over my creation.
Now, I think your best bet is to go with the real-deal Philippe's mustard, but I did, while writing this blog, come across a recipe on RecipeCottage.com that purports to be a perfect recreation of Philippe's mustard. It seems like quite a bit of work to my thinking, but you may want to give it a try.
 | 4 Tablespoons Dry mustard powder 1 Tablespoon White Wine Vinegar 2 Tablespoons Flat beer 1 Clove Garlic 1 Teaspoon Sugar 1/2 Teaspoon Salt 1/4 Teaspoon Turmeric 1 Tablespoon Olive oil -- optional Whisk together dry mustard, vinegar and beer. Use a garlic press or large pair pliers to squeeze the juice from the clove of garlic into the mixture. Stir in sugar, salt and turmeric. To make mustard smoother and less hot, add olive oil to taste. What have you been cooking lately? —Sarah Torribio | |
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