Local Favorites

(Editor's note: Sometimes this stuff just writes itself.)


The Honorable Larry Craig - United States Senator, Idaho
Specialty Recipe Favorite Breakfast "Super Tuber"


"Super Tuber is a great snack that uses one of my favorite vegetables: The Idaho Potato. Of course, I suppose any type of potato could be used, but I cannot guarantee that a Super Tuber made with anything but a true Idaho potato would taste as good. Sincerely, Larry E. Craig, United States Senator"

"Wash and dry potato. Rub with shortening or butter. With an apple corer or small knife, core out the potato center (end to end). Push hot dog through the center. Bake until potato is cooked through."


GET THE RECIPE: Idaho Senator Larry Craig shares his recipe for Super Tuber

PREVIOUSLY: Huckabee's Squirrel Poppers


Stay tuned for more on the road eats with our new Presidential campaign food coverage -- Trail Mix.

RSS Feed: http://www.slashfood.com/category/trail-mix/rss.xml

(Editor's note: The odd thing about my life these days is that this is the second brains & eggs recipe I've run across today -- and I wasn't even searching for one.)


The Honorable Howard Coble - United States Congressman North Carolina
Specialty Recipe Favorite Breakfast "Brains N' Eggs"


"When I was a youngster, my mom used to prepare Brains N' Eggs for breakfast. It was a fairly regular breakfast, not at all unusual. So that's when I started eating them. I've enjoyed them ever since, but I can't find any on Capitol Hill. I'll admit the name of the dish is not the most appetizing, but try 'em, you might like 'em!"


GET THE RECIPE: The Honorable Howard Coble shares his Mom's recipe for Brains & Eggs

PREVIOUSLY: Huckabee's Squirrel Poppers


Stay tuned for more on the road eats with our new Presidential campaign food coverage -- Trail Mix.

RSS Feed: http://www.slashfood.com/category/trail-mix/rss.xml

Special to AOL from Sean Redlitz


When tallying the symbolic and metaphoric content found in the produce aisle, the apple ranks high, perhaps second only to the cherry. The garden of Eden, an apple for the teacher, an apple a day. Apple records. The Apple iPhone.


But for me, when I think "apple" the first thing that comes to mind is the unmistakable taste of a ripe Macoun. Cut one and notice how its purple-red skin contrasts beautifully with its snow white flesh. Bite one and discover a crisp, toothsome snap followed by a juicy rush of deep, almost wine-like sweetness.


Part of the magic of Macouns is that your opportunity to eat one is constrained geographically and temporally. They're only grown in the Northeast U.S., and they're only in season through October and November. Unlike some of its better-known kin, the Macoun is not bred to be a sturdy traveler; they bruise easily and don't last long on the shelf. Thus, you'll seldom come across one more than few hundred miles from where it's been picked.


If you find yourself in the Northeast in the next few weeks, make a beeline to the nearest greengrocer or farmers' market and taste what I and many other devotees consider to be the pinnacle of apple-snacking. Then mark your calendar for October 2008, and treasure the memory until then.

Editor's note: Mr. Redlitz lives in Los Angeles, where Macouns are hard to come by. I bought 12 Macouns at a farmer's market in Manhattan today and threatened to let them rot on my desk unless he wrote this piece. He'll be receiving an express mail package at his office within the next few days.

Make some Apple Bread Pudding tonight.

From AOL Body's Jennifer Fields

Every October, my family used to make annual trips from Oklahoma to Dallas the weekend of the big OU/Texas game. I hate football, so while my dad and brother cheered Big Red, the game provided ample opportunity for mom and me to sample the culinary delight that is the Texas State Fair.

This is the birthplace of the corny dog. That's a not a typo. Its proper name is corny dog and Fletcher's is the original and the best. It's the quintessential fair food and used to be my favorite thing until I became a vegetarian. Fortunately, here you can get anything fried on a stick, like the cheese dog. It's a bit of a misnomer because there's no dog. It's just mounds of cheese that are rolled in cornmeal and fried. It tastes best when dipped in honey mustard and washed down with an extra-sweet lemonade.

Next on my must-have list is Frito Pie at The Dock. If you're not familiar, it's chili, cheese and sour cream on a bed of Fritos. It's crunchy, salty, spicy and downright delicious. And of course, you can also find it fried.

The fair isn't complete without a little slice of heaven in the form of a mini sweet potato pie from Vern's. Some pie places use sweet potato filling, but this is the real deal – not overly smooth and with hints of cinnamon and cardamom. It's the perfect way to end a gastronomic tour of the fair. And yes, they serve it fried.

Take the State Fair Fare Quiz

Special to AOL from Eric Diesel

"Mehepyew?" If you need to have that translated, you're not from the South.

Technically, I'm not either. I grew up in Arkansas, at the hands of defectors from the glittering lights of Tulsa, which means we were as much boots and saddles as we were hoop skirts and string ties. My folks were refugees from (counting backwards) young adulthood in the fabulous fifties, teenage-hood during the second world war, and childhood during the Great Depression. I'm not kidding – in photographs from the era that look like stills from a William Wyler film, my father wore a buzz cut and a letterman's sweater, my mother was a genuine bobbysoxer. And my grandmother, my blessed saint of a grandmother, was half Caucasian and half Osage Indian, a situation that informed her entire existence, as she did everything by halves and wholes: she was half-sophisticated and half-raunchy, half a genteel southern lady and half a rambunctious rodeo queen, half charming and half cantankerous. And we were half rich and half poor. And that's how, in a moment, we will get back to "Mehepyew."

If you know anything about Osage history, you know that during the Oklahoma land rush, many of these Native Americans wound up in the area surrounding what would become Tulsa, and that that selfsame land wound up being oil-rich. There are depression-era documentary photos of Osage women cooking on fire pits with Mercedes Benzes parked nearby. My grandmother was not one of the wealthy Osage, but she still felt the effects of being half traditional Indian and half city lady: like many of her contemporaries, being exposed to Tulsa gentility left its mark on her. One thing that she remembered vividly, even nostalgically was the ladies' luncheon room.