ELV — the man, the myth, the carbohydrate connoisseur — considers himself a professor of pancakes.
A griddle cake gourmand. A harbinger of hotcake hauteur.
A flapjack fanatic if you will.
What is it about summertime that makes us love sausages so?
Is it because they’re synonymous with grilling?
Or so simple to eat?
Or because that snap of a natural casing, enclosing spicy-sweet cured meat, accented by tangy mustard, is the perfect confluence of all the taste sensations: sweet, sour, salty and bitter?
Try as I might, I can’t get excited about the Wine Spectator “awards.”
Because they’re really not a measure of excellence; they’re only a publicity stunt that restaurants from coast to coast buy into for whatever free publicity it garners them.
They’re also a fraud.