Give me a real beer and sandwich

New Holland Ichabod Ale, originally uploaded by straylight6.

By Scott Beveridge

PITTSBURGH, Pa. – Give me a beer that tastes like, well beer, at happy hour and I'm happy.

No. I don't want one of those girlie beers flavored with apples, oranges, lemons or limes. The worst, in my opinion, have been brewed with cloves and should be used for a higher purpose to oven roast an Easter ham. When I am feeling most like a beer snob, I'll reach for a venerable, high-test coppery and malty India Pale Ale.

But, I must say it caught my attention over the past week as my twitter feed became filled with tweets about pumpkin beer on tap at Bocktown Beer and Grill. It wasn't hard to miss them among the F-bombs posted by beered-up Steelers fans who were angry about their beloved team's 17-14 loss Sunday to the Baltimore Ravens.

Bocktown can be found in the real world at a nearly-abandoned strip mall in the otherwise bustling Robinson Township shopping sprawl district off the Parkway West. Its a locally-owned and bit pricey small place with a large selection of specialty beers on tap and a great food menu.

Its owners have surfaced as being masters of the art of using social media to boost business, a move that has helped to keep the room filled with customers on most nights.

Speaking of that, a tweet from Bocktown just moved on my twitter feed and it reads as follows:

"If you make it to Bocktown today or tomorrow, try a fun pumpkin beer flight! Ichabod 4 ways: Plain, infused with..."  followed by a link to its Facebook feed about that beer being infused with Old Whiskey Hollow soaked oak.

Whatever it takes to get people here, but Bocktown is certainly worth the trip for anyone hankering for polite conversation among friends and strangers and something to drink other than Coors Light.

Tonight, New Holland Brewing of Michigan has beeb giving away samples of its pumpkin beers. I try two of them and decide they don't taste too pumpkin obnoxious and that I probably would drink two with dinner had I not already decided on an IPA.

The brewing company's T-shirts are much more attractive, as they bear over black cotton a headless horseman holding up a pumpkin in his right hand. I would have bought one of them had the creative geniuses at that company thought to have stocked some to sell at this party.

Then I am gently interrupted by the guy to my left dressed in a starched shirt and looking over the menu with his pretty, thin girlfriend who appeared hungry.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but what are you eating?" he said. "She thinks its really looks good."

"Oh it's no bother," I respond. "It's the adventureland burgher. It's delicious. Everything on the menu is good, especially the steak sandwiches."

He goes back to her because I could hardly turn my attention away from my food basket.

This has to be one of the best burgers I have ever tasted. It's set atop a nest of creamy coleslaw, special sauce, pickles and onion crisps.

It certainly would not go good with a fruity beer.

The "greener" burger

By Scott Beveridge

PITTSBURGH, Pa. – Sonoma Grille dishes up a beautiful burger on a shiny bun next to a pile of seasoned French fries, three thick plum tomato slices and a nice dill pickle.

Looks aside, this sandwich is far from ordinary at the West Coast-style wine bar in Pittsburgh's Penn Avenue Cultural District.

The plump burger comes from a grass-fed cow supplied to a restaurant that is buying into the fast-growing "buy local" trend followed by people who want to know where their food comes from and how far it has traveled from farm to the plate. It also serves a local braised short rib, and a mache salad with local spring radish. Fear not, though, the menu does not suggest the main ingredient in the duck dishes was shot down over in the nearby Allegheny River.

The beef in my burger, according to the menu, once had a life at the Ron Gargasz organic farm in Volant, a Pennsylvania town that really isn't local to Pittsburgh, either. The beautiful village of Volant is an hour's drive from the city, but it's close enough at time when the average cow has been traveling 1,200 miles from the farm to a feed lot before its meat is sold in supermarkets.

Consumers have been considering alternatives to feeding on products sold from corporate farms because of all of the food scares, the most famous of which put Chi Chi's out of business after three people died of liver failure in 2003 after they ate tainted green onions at one of its chains north of Pittsburgh.

Then Time magazine featured a cover story last summer, "From Farm to Fork," exposing crowded livestock practices at farms owned by megacorporations. The article concluded that America's addiction to meat has contributed to an epidemic of obesity. At the same time, these giant farms consume more fossil fuels than any other source, and seep fertilizers that are damaging the Mississippi River and Gulf of Mexico, the magazine reported. The investigative piece came out shortly after a documentary, Food Inc., tackled similar concerns.

The Sonoma burger was the first organic one of its kind that I have ever ordered from a menu, and I admit that it wasn't as flavorful as those from cows, which had been fed corn, antibiotics and hormones. It was a bit dry, almost like chewing on meat mixed with whole grains. And the fact it was paired with processed potatoes was odd, considering that people who have been turning away from non-local products also don't want to eat processed foods. I'm thinking deep-fried green beans or freshly-made potato chips would have been a better marriage on that plate for those wanting to feed on supposedly healthier red meat.

Regardless, I've been digging this buy local concept. And that sandwich didn't sit in my belly like a lead balloon, as have most of its competition in the burger wars.

A notch up from hillbilly grub

By Scott Beveridge

PITTSBURGH, Pa. – An unpeeled banana dusted with paprika and melted cheddar isn’t on the menu at Double Wide Grill, a restaurant in an old filling station in Pittsburgh.

But that’s what a server delivers on a recent Sunday afternoon as a joke to the bartender at the kooky 2-year-old business on East Carson Street in the Pittsburgh, Pa.'s, trendy South Side district.

“That’s why I love working here,” said the bartender named Carly, who bears a mild resemblance to Jennifer Aniston, but as a dark brunette. “Your foods up,” she said while passing the silly tapas to me and others while flashing her infections smile.

Of course no one else takes her up on that side dish, but there is plenty of other he-man food being passed around this joint, where auto is king.

The business at Carson and 24th streets will bring a smile to anyone's face. An old green pickup truck strung with Christmas lights is suspended above the bar while recycled chrome step bumpers double as foot rests.

Gas pump nozzles pull double duty as coat racks, and mirrors framed in car tires can be found in the rest rooms. Meanwhile, hubcaps line the ceiling and empty metal gallon-sized oil cans hang over the tables as chandeliers.

The menu is similarly as quirky. The “On Tråys” are loaded with beef, pork and chicken, and can be mixed and matched on build-your-own TV dinner-style metal plates. The hubcap potato discs with garlic and herbs would best complete each meal.

There are vegetarian selections, too, including that nothing food known as tofu. The unlikely vegan who might land here could also select a house trailer salad with sweet corn and avocados.

This restaurant in what was once a bland four-bay concrete-block garage is another gift to the city by Scott Kramer and Steve Zumoff, owners of the coffeehouse down the street where young bohemians with robins egg blue hair mingle with middle-aged nerds over organic tea.

It’s noisy at the Double Wide, though, and especially so on nice days when the garage doors are up and a fleet of Harley-Davidson motorcycles rumbles away from the neighboring biker bar.

This place and all of its hillbilly charm is a NASCAR fan’s fantasy. The only things missing are shots of moonshine and the smell of high-octane engine fuel.

A burger and fresh carp

NORTH VERSAILLES, Pa. - Bill Balsamico was in a somber mood Saturday and so was that famous sign above his bar and restaurant, Casa D’Ice. Usually he posts his angry thoughts about the war in Iraq or immigration in bright lights outside his business, and sometimes they include obscenities below the special on the menu. That night, it indicated he was about to announce his support for an independent for president.

While talking to customers inside, Balsamico said he was bummed out to celebrate his 62nd birthday while a relative was in poor health. Usually, he blows out the candles with a live band. At the last minute Saturday, he settled for a disc jockey to entertain a handful of people who stopped by to sign a petition to support Pittsburgh native U.S. Rep. Ron Paul for president in advance of the Pennsylvania primary.

Balsimico gained national attention with his banter after the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks prompted him to put his angry thoughts on his signs. Even the Washington Post sent a reporter two years ago to his establishment on Route 30 beside a Kmart. You couldn’t miss the building at night with its blue neon lights in the shapes of icicles dripping from the roof line.

For his youtube.com video, Balsamico read from a script, in a monotone voice, his suggestions for President Bush to return all troops from across the globe to stand guard at the U.S. border with Mexico and “protect our nation from within.” It's dead wrong for a Mexican woman to "jump a fence" to give birth and assure her child U.S. citizenship, Balsamico said, even though he traces his heritage to Italian immigrants.

When I stopped by, the conversation across the bar went from a dislike of career politicians to Balsamico boasting of drinking several cases of Corona beer and bottles of Sambuca during one of his Christmas parties before his wristwatch stopped dead. Yet, to everyone's surprise, his bitter heart kept beating.

He might as well keep drawing customers to the bar with those signs because his food doesn't make a bold statement. My hamburger and fries came plopped on a layer of tin foil spread across a plastic serving tray. The food wasn't so hot.