Author Archives: glenn van nostrand

About glenn van nostrand

Spent some years making my way around the cities and states, working, learning about new food ideas and planting and eating my share. Making my points about rejecting the corporate take over of our food source to my opinions about the New York food scene. LASTLY: No matter the size of my living area, I am always growing herbs & vegetables and enjoy the nurturing experiences of the growth to the nutritional value it gives from the table.

Burger Barn N.C.

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I knew it at the time as much as I know it now and as much as it bothers me, I’m not changing the fact that I spelled cheeseburger incorrectly. And nobody called me out on it. (I was driving, the sun was in my eyes, the elevation caused light-headedness and much more) The call out person would have levitated from parts unknown to reach me with the secret piece of jagged gold locket that fit my other half perfectly — true love.. Only pulling your lariats, I love you all..

I’d have bet dollars to donuts after observing the barn that Burger Barn would have had me saying “where are my socks?” As in ‘knocking them off’, well – not exactly, due to a smidge of too much grill time. Big thick burgers are not to my liking either, this was not that, as there’s usually issues in the middle. So the double or triple stacked mid bovine grind are more my preference, assuming cook temp is shy of Chernobyl. My double was a bit well done, but the free fixings options righted the ship quicklike.

Leave it to the gastronomic genius over here to order a Philly cheese steak at a burger joint. (Oh crap, am I spelling this wrong too, are the words connected? I’m loosing it folks, and at such a young age too, pity, pity. Well, at least I have my looks — no, wait, they’re gone too. I’ll get back to ya on that one)

I just wanted something I had fond memories of as the weighted down wagon rumbled Northbound — anybody remember SteakUms?

Au jus would have had tremendous redeeming qualities, as was pointed out by a SC homie of mine. But for road food and to support local business, I’ll go that route all day long.

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Once Village Market

Click the link for a 5 star review by: Glenn Van Nostrand

https://www.yelp.com/biz/olde-village-market-and-deli-north-charleston?hrid=WsGxtb1GsGNFb2c0ZwIjzg&utm_source=ashare&ref=yelp-android


And Now She’s a Teenager.

With eyes raised, her Masters look to scan.

The joy — the solice, the aid of man.

The richmans guardian, the poor man’s friend —

The only creature faithful to the End.

Happy 13th Birthday to my Sydney.

Let’s go for another 13 my LOVING pup.


The World is Changed

“We can destroy what We wrote, but we cannot unwrite it.” #clockworkorange

“The world has changed, I feel it in the water, I feel it in the earth, I smell it in the air. Much of what once was — is now lost. For none of those that remember — still remain.” #LoTR

To be continued…


Blue Ridge Parkway, Christmas Day 2018

Four hundred and sixty nine miles of rugged terrain sit upon the short yet sturdy hills of the lower Adirondack trail. It feels very close to you, because it is very close — you and the road are in it.

Winding roads do not detract from the smooth ease of the venture upwards, and then downwards, it adds to the feeling. The feeling of being into a mountain and coming out the back end, a light form of modern day, hustle and bustle expedition.

Of the many words I set aside to describe the drive, ‘Diversity’ is the one that comes most often to mind. Diversity of nature more specifically, what you see in December is not what what you will see in May nor will September show you any February.


Stoners Pizza Dude

 

 

Over thirteen hundred reviews on YELP later and now I’m thinking “have I reviewed food that has reached me by delivery?” And I can not say for sure that I am completely certain that I have or certain that I have not.

Pecking in my choices of size, bread, sauce and toppings and tip into my phone was quite seamless. And now the clock starts and they’ve projected for me a ten minute window, thirty five minutes out. Forty minutes later, there was a jingle at my door. Super friendly fellow, represented his company and himself very well.

The pepperoni ring pattern of round and round around the pizza we go can be your laying technique, but the look to me is damaging — I prefer a more random and rustic look myself. Extra cheese is just the darnedest extra topping to add because you never really get it, you always get charged and no recourse for them possibly cheating you out of it, but I do it anyway.

The crust sagged a bit, the cheese wasn’t exactly of the quality I’d had thought they would use. The sauce just kinda sat in the background and lingered like the last party guest that isn’t leaving and isn’t getting the picture that it’s time. There is just so little to say.


Hurricane Florence – the build up

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Driving back to South Carolina, the storm had not yet begun to make the NEWS and until a few days after my arrival, nobody was talking about it. The dogs and I had just returned to Charleston after a week in New York, working out another chapter of a writing project I have been collaborating on and have built an odd sense of affection for.

Early in the morning of September 10th, a report came across my bathroom radio — something to the effect of “A tropical storm developing off the coast of Africa”. “It is our first storm of the season and could be a big one”. So upon arrival, we had quickly taken up shelter and saught out immediate residence at a motel, some ten northeasterly miles inland off the coast of Charleston, South Carolina. My rental home just did not feel safe enough for us to return…

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Hurricane Florence – the build up

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Driving back to South Carolina, the storm had not yet begun to make the NEWS and until a few days after my arrival, nobody was talking about it. The dogs and I had just returned to Charleston after a week in New York, working out another chapter of a writing project I have been collaborating on and have built an odd sense of affection for.

Early in the morning of September 10th, a report came across my bathroom radio — something to the effect of “A tropical storm developing off the coast of Africa”. “It is our first storm of the season and could be a big one”. So upon arrival, we had quickly taken up shelter and saught out immediate residence at a motel, some ten northeasterly miles inland off the coast of Charleston, South Carolina. My rental home just did not feel safe enough for us to return to and welcome this unknown storms potential wrath within. I soon felt this was the right decision as it was about this time that I heard Governor McMaster voice come across the airwaves calling for a “mandatory evacuation” for the coastal area beginning the very next day at noon. Over three hundred and fifty thousand South Carolina residents have been evacuated and headed away from the projected path of Hurricane Florence inland toward Columbia, some eighty miles northwest of our position.

But with nowhere to go and no reason to get anywhere more unfamilia, I decided to stay put and request a second floor room. I immediately scoffed at the initial designation for a first floor room as quickly as I had heard it assigned to us.

Once inside, I turned quickly and looked directly behind me to the horizon, I stood there for a few moments and looked to the sky for a hint, a clue, yet nothing was telling about the impending storm that is set to arrive tomorrow on Friday in the early morning. Florence seems to be moving more slowly now than when it started – today being Wednesday the 12th.

Meteorologists electronic highlighters show a multitude of potential paths upon the screen, more lines than not seem to indicate a turn southeast toward where we are, they think it is coming to where we are after it makes landfall.

I dialed a friend to ask of his preparedness or evacuation position, and he told me that he and his dog are staying. He lives on James Island and is far more likely to endure higher winds, more rain, harsher conditions and a better likelihood of losing power. Assuming that the storm doesn’t cycle back south like a backwards letter ‘C’ and loom for a while, which is some folks opinion, I am not in the path at all. I would consider myself safe and years later tell of it, I’ll speak like I am weather tested, like I survived a natural disaster – “this is not my first storm’ I’d tell them pridefully “of course I stayed and did not evacuate”. I actually wont tell such tall tales, but in a pinch it is the makings of decent conversation.

Waiting for a hurricane is an odd feeling of which I cannot recall having ever had prior, we had hurricanes in New York but we didn’t prepare much and we didn’t even hear a breath about evacuation plans. My window foe evacuation here and now, is within four hours — noon time — however I respectfully continue to dismiss with a swift flick from the back of my hand — “To that I say pish posh” and decline. Off to the store for some essentials and as the storm inches nearer, I hear a distant exhausted thunder rumble, I realize that I should use the money wisely and I quickly scribble out a list. As the roads began to look to ease from their typical mumble and rumble of cars and trains, I drove back with what one would consider my camping food cuisine of canned dry goods and having really only camped once. It then occurred to me it was not clear what would work together to provide more meal verities than the six different ingredients than I have and sunk into canned menu creation depression.

Update: Signs are now appearing, I think to myself that an immediate flash of shock from a weather emergency might be easier to endure mentally, you have less time to think about the random outcomes of hardship – I have already created about five. Just after having thought that thought, there is a sound. It isn’t a howl, it’s more like a roar. I close my eyes and outstretch my arms in the middle of the motels parking lot and I can hear the gentle sights of the wind. A deeper and much less subtle sound than its whistle I heard a half an hour before. Then there is silence. No birds, no bees, no crickets — no sound. Nature went on mute for a moment — then remained for another three minutes. It ws a weird experience when everything seems to just stop, to be stuck in time. Something is changing, whisky grey low lying clouds are beginning to gather together and move with the wind above. The weather is now happening — the little creatures always know it first.


Jack and St. Croix

 

Perched upon a well backed bar stool, it wasn’t the bar I was wanting to eat — because, as lore has it, sometimes the bar eats you.

Candice (Red) took to a powerful and passionate verbal onslaught of what St. James is about from the kitchen on forward. With the emphasis on original recipes, batters, breading and non-frozen foods, such as seafood dishes, that are not subject to the deep freeze. I listened intently, as its been ages since such a delivery was put to me, her eight years of service is a testament to how wonderful my dinner at St. James was.

The St. Croix Ribeye was Red’s soft and subtle suggestion, pineapple and other native tropical fruits created a uniquely bright, and very pleasing marinade. It has personality, it had kick and bite yet didn’t give away the steaks presences, it wasn’t a mask, it was a food relationship I’ve not known prior.

The loaded mashed potatoes and my Jack were along for the ride, sitting in the passengers seats as the St. Croix Rib-eye grabbed the wheel and punched the gas on a culinary expeditionary journey to Deliciousland.

 


Watch “NY 2 SC, 1st bit of southern driving range time.” on YouTube