ELV note: We recorded this at KNPR in December, 2004, and you can listen to us perform the script in the mellifluous, whimsical and melancholy tones for which we were known by clicking on the link below. Happy New Year 2012!

You’re Toast!

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Happy New Year, Great Saturnalia, Season’s Greetings or Yumpin’ Yule– however you celebrate the shortest days of the year, I’m sure food (and especially drink), has a lot to do with it. And since all holiday celebrations begin or end with a toast, I thought some information about how all that clinking of glasses came about, might be fun, and provide some good conversation fodder should you find yourself trapped behind a punchbowl with nothing witty to say.

Toasting came about because once upon a time the rich and famous were in the nasty habit of poisoning each other rather than filing lawsuits. A nobleman in 14th century Europe in the midst of a pesky property dispute with his neighbor might suggest mead cocktails at Lancelot Lagasses or the Earl of Puck’s Steakhouse so they could “settle” things. Rather than appear with a high priced mouthpiece to plead his case, or perhaps lacking any real evidence that he was entitled to starve his serfs into submission and steal their land, His Royal Fullness would have his in-house chemist poison the wine or beer (usually the only disease-free potable liquid), of his political or business opponents. One dinner, a few drinks and poof, no more plaintiff! When you consider the time and money saved in court costs, legal fees, and copying charges, it was a beautiful system. Unfortunately it made dining with strangers, and especially your relatives, a dicey proposition.

So the expense-account crowd in medieval London, came up with a custom to take the stress out of imbibing anywhere but your own back yard. The host would take some toast (dry bread soaking up more liquid than fresh), and dip it into his guests flagons and take a bite. Assuming he didn’t keel over, everyone breathed a sigh of relief, got drunk, and went back to the business of debauchery and exploiting peasants.

The glass clinking thing dispensed with the bread, and had the host pour some of his guest’s wine into his glass or cup, and then drank up. Upon seeing him do this, everyone clinked (or clunked) their wooden or metal cups together, signifying trust and honesty at the table. So along with this indispensable trivia, here’s a six-pack of pretentiously obscure toasts to use instead of the same old boring “cheers!” or “salud!” over this year’s vintage bottle of October 2004 Manischewitz. All of these are some version of “to your health” or “here’s to good food and drink”:

In Basque it’s Topa. Greeks say Kali Orixi. While Russians yell Na’zdroveya. Asturians (whoever they are) proclaim Gayola, and in Italian you say Chin Chin. (which is not to be made amongst Japanese, since you would be toasting their penises)

And my personal favorite: In Zulu – Oogy Wawa. This is John Curtas wishing you a Happy New Year Topa! Chin Chin! Oogy Wawa! and Gayola!!

On our way to Mexico - 1965

As a prelude to this year’s Thanksgiving, ELV’s staff thought a trip down memory lane was in order. More specifically, a return to a few commentaries he did on Nevada Public radio about his favorite holiday….including not one, not two, but THREE recipes for the world’s greatest bean dish — featured for years on News 88.9 FM KNPR-Nevada Public Radio, and now brought to the readers of Eating Las Vegas for your shared enjoyment and delectation. ELV promises you, if you make them once, your Thanksgiving table will never again be without this sweet, savory and sour treatment of these luscious legumes.

Before we get to cookin’, you might like to tune in here, where, in 1999, we explored some of Thanksgiving’s history…in a rather high-pitched and rapid fire delivery. (Our voice would improve over the years, thanks to a number of great producers at the station.)

In this commentary (and in a more modulated tone) we give a nice snapshot of where our neighborhood food scene was in late 2001.

Giving thanks was our theme in 2002, when we rattled of our favorite experiences and hallowed haunts of the previous year.

Grandma Schroader’s Sour Beans made their first appearance on the air on Nov. 27, 2003, when we wrapped the recipe around memories of Thanksgivings in the sixties.

FOOD FOR THOUGHT

GRANDMA SCHROADER’S SOUR BEANS (Radio version #1)

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1. Fry and crumble a pound of bacon….which is really more than you’ll need, but half of it will miraculously disappear as you complete the recipe.

2. Take one 10 oz. package of frozen, French cut green beans—-uh excuse me…I meant one package of Freedom cut green beans. Microwave them for a few minutes (drain) and put ‘em in a nice serving bowl.

3. Bring to a boil:
1/2 cup vinegar
1/2 cup sugar
1 tsp. of salt
1 chopped up onion

4. Now this is the hard part so pay attention…Pour everything over the beans and garnish with whatever bacon hasn’t miraculously disappeared from your kitchen counter.

5. Serve hot, cold or any temperature in-between.

Looking for an appropriate toast to make tomorrow? Then listen to our history of toasts, along with a few obscure ones, from this commentary in 2004. (Our favorite: OOgy WaWa - “bon appetit” in Zulu.)

Thanksgiving 2006 was mea culpa time, as we had to sheepishly admit we had been tinkering with our family’s classic sour bean recipe.

Here is the real, actual, authentic, straight from the 50s recipe, taken down in the handwriting of Marcella Ruth Schroader Curtas (d.o.b. 8.10.24 – The Official Mother of ELV):

GRANDMA SCHROADER’S SOUR BEANS  (Authentic version/Radio version #2):

The Actual, Authentic Straight-From-The-Fifties Recipe

2 cans green beans
1/4 lb. Bacon

Fry and crumble bacon

Bring to a boil:
1/4 cup vinegar
1/3 cup sugar
1/2 tsp. Salt
chopped onion

pour over green beans
garnish with bacon

JOHN CURTAS’ RECIPE (Modern version #3)

Fry and crumble a pound of good pepper-crusted bacon – which is more than you’ll need, but half of it will have miraculously disappeared before you use it as a garnish.

Trim and french-cut 12 oz. of fresh green beans. Cook (steam or par boil without salt) until tender. Drain and  put them in a nice serving bowl.

While the beans are steaming or simmering or microwaving, bring to a boil 1/2 cup red wine vinegar, 1/2 cup sugar, 1 teaspoon of salt and one chopped onion (chopped not too fine).

No here’s the hard part so pay attention: after the sugar/vinegar/onion mixture has come to a full boil, pour the entire mixture over the cooked green beans and garnish with as much crumbled bacon as your cardiologist allows.

Serve hot, cold or any temperature in between. These beans co-exist wonderfully with any Thanksgiving dinner, and ELV promises – if you serve them once, you’ll serve them every year.

By now, you are probably besotted and bored by legumes. So we’ll beat it from beauteous beans soon enough pilgrim, but not before we refer you to one last homage to Phaseolus vulgaris– aired on November 22, 2007 — where we paid tribute to this humble fruit, and revealed one final surprise.

For some reason, we skipped our Thanksgiving commentaries in ‘08 and ‘o9 (maybe because things were so depressing in Vegas), but finished with KNPR on a high note — on November 24, 2010 – when we repeat the recipe again (Susan Stamberg-style) and reminisce about Thanksgivings in Florida, and expose my family’s claim to this Thanksgiving staple as a fraud. Yes, a fraud, a lie and a deception…a veritable prevarication foisted on the American public, if you will!

As it turns out, neither Grandma Hazel Schroader, nor our mother, nor anyone related to the Schroader, Cutsumpas or Curtas clans had anything to do with Grandma Schroader’s Sour Beans. Turns out they came from a neighbor lady (Fran Kesler) who clipped out the recipe and gave it to our mother (Ruth Curtas) sometime in the late 50s while we were living on Via Venetia Avenue in Winter Park (Florida, not Colorado).

Sad but true. But as John Wayne (or maybe it was Andy Warhol) once said: “When the legend becomes fact, print the legend.”

That’s our story and we’re sticking to it. No matter who invented them, Grandma Schroader’s Sour Beans* is a recipe destined for your Thanksgiving table. Make them tomorrow and thank us later.

Happy Thanksgiving!

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

* And let’s face it, Grandma Schroader’s sounds a lot more lip smacking than Floridian Fran’s. Floridian Fran’s Sour Beans sounds like the title of a geriatric comedy at a Miami Beach dinner theater.

People tend to forget that Mandalay Bay began as a rival to the Bellagio and the Venetian. When it opened in 1999, Circus Entertainment (or whatever the corporation was called then) intended it to be as upscale as anyplace in town.

Great designers, chefs and restaurants were brought in to compete with Steve Wynn’s showplace, and it sported its own murderer’s row of eateries: Fleur de Lys, Border Grill, China Grill, Bleu Blanc Rouge,  Lupo, Aureole, miX, and the Foundation Room (or Hooker Central as we used to call it). One of our favorites, from the first time we laid eyes on it, was Shanghai Lilly.

SL was designed by Tony Chi and in a very subtle, feng shui sort of way, was every bit as stunning as any dining room in any hotel. From the moment you walked down the tiled entry along its babbling brook/pool, you felt like you were entering the formal salon of an important Asian potentate, or an inner sanctum of the Forbidden City. The photos of Chinese prostitutes lining one wall invoked a sense of mystery rather than sex — which is what we suspect Chi was gunning for — and the bar was tucked away and impressive (at least to look at). Acoustics and lighting were wonderful in the main dining room, as were the columns of fabric that were evocative of Chinese ceremonial garb.

It also served a kick-ass Peking Duck:

…at a great price, as you can hear from our commentary about it on KNPR in 2007.

Unfortunately, with all of that going for it, it never got its due. When MGM-Mirage bought Mandalay Bay in mid-decade, all those upscale restaurants suddenly were playing second (and third) fiddle to its other properties, and without a stream of Asian high rollers to swell its coffers, Shanghai Lilly slowly became  just another over-priced Chinese restaurant.

Tomorrow it goes tits up for good — consigned to the dust heap of ex-eateries locals barely paid attention to. But we will miss its decor and that tasty duck….and wonder where oh where will the Mandalay Bay hordes now go for the breast of both in town?

PS: Word has it that a very well known Strip chef will be re-locating his digs to the SL space, after extensive renovations. If it were up to us, the naked female statuary would stay.

Someone once described Argentinians as: “A bunch of Italians who speak  Spanish, who think like Germans, wish they were British and act like the French.” (or something like that)

ELV knows nothing of such things, other than to say they seem to be a people in love with meat…especially beef….and that beef dominates the menu of this popular restaurant/deli stuck amidst all the Asian joints up and down Spring Mountain Road.

Truth be told, it had been ten years since last we dropped in — and inexcusable delay when you consider we drive by the place several times a week. We remember going a couple of times around the turn of the century, and giving it a favorable review on KNPR, but that’s about it, so we dropped in a few days ago to get our empanadas on….and eat what might be one of the best sandwiches in town.

It’s called the Lomito Completo (lomito appears to be either Argentine slang for filet mignon, or an all-purpose word for meat/steak), and a more complete amalgamation of protein on a bun would be hard to find. Individual recipes probably vary, but this one boasts filet and ham and lettuce and cheese, on a nice, fresh, semi-squishy/semi-crispy bun with a nice, runny fried egg on top to bind everything together. A carbo-protein load to be sure, but one sandwich easily feeds two fressers. In the words of Anthony Bourdain, you will find it either “…really delicious or a war crime.” (Whatever that means?) In a city with a dearth of decent sandwiches or sandwich shops, this one might take the cake.

Not to be missed either are the empanadas — lighter and flakier than many a Central American riff on this pastry — they are the quintessence of a meat pie (or a corn and onion one), and much more delicate than the play-doh pockets foisted on eaters by cooks (and countries) with a heavier hand.

Dip everything in the addictive, house-made chimichurri sauce, and in no time you’ll feel like invading the Falklands.

RINCON DE BUENOS AIRES

5300 Spring Mountain Road

Las Vegas, NV 89146

702.257.3331

Here is our script and the audio from our very first review of Rosemary’s, right after it opened in August, 1999. Click on the Real Audio link to listen to the mellifluous tones of ELV – for which he was known — and try not to get a major case of the warm fuzzies.

FOOD FOR THOUGHT

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