A Girl & A Steer @ A Fair

Under a hot cloudless sky in the summer of 1983, a 4-H banner stretches and yawns in a busy barn. It hangs in the only inland place in Orange County that can even sustain a breeze, Costa Mesa, California. The structure, circa 1940, is a leftover from an army base turned fairgrounds, now the temporary home for pampered steers. The animals are tended by members of the 4-H and FFA and raised for the livestock auction held annually at the County Fair.

 

The young animal owners with their hovering parents ready the steers for the big market beef show. The breeze carries smoke from smoldering concessionaire fires, music from the carnival and excited chatter from the crowd made up of dedicated family members. A speaker keeps cracking, "shhhep... Jim Bailey to the livestock office... Jim Bailey....shhhep."  Curious on lookers dragging cotton candy toting children mount bleachers to watch.

The speaker cracks again,"shhhep... 4-H Market Steers...4-H Market Steers to the show ring... shhhep"... The animal owners, who are also known as "exhibitors," enter the show ring, distractedly thinking about who to ask to ride on the Ferris Wheel, turn their attention to the half ton animals they are leading. None of the exhibitors are more then 19 years old and their well groomed steers are less then two. 

I was part of this group, making our way to the show ring. At 18, this would be my last steer to raise in the 4-H program and he was, I'm not ashamed to say, the most beautiful animal at the Fair. We slipped our paper entry numbers over our white shirted arms and entered the tin covered judging area.

I was more nervous then the others, my steer named "Mayor Bradley" weighed over 1200 pounds and was notoriously uncontrollable. Despite investing long hours of training, he had ignored all efforts in about 6 months to become civilized. Bradley dragged me around like a rag doll.

For some reason, that day was different, when we stepped off sticky asphalt into shavings that carpeted the ring he was remarkably calm. Bradley allowed me to walk him about for the judge to get a look at his shiny black coat that rippled with muscles beneath. He stood more alert then the other steers with his head held high and proud, announcing with out a sound, "that he would be the winner." The Judge agreed. 

The crowd roared and cheered when the Judge slapped Bradley's rump to show his selection for the 1983 Grand Champion Market Steer. I held on to the end of the lead as the "not so gentle giant," bucked and spun, then took me on a victory drag around the ring.

Days later, after the newspaper articles, pictures and praise the auction was held. Bradley wore fluttering ribbons and a blanket of flowers, purple and yellow. I wore a grin of astonishment at the final bid. The profit from raising him would pay for my first used car, and help with my first year of college. Not all kids are so lucky, many just break even and often raise animals at a loss. Young farmers do however, gain respect for animals, learn responsibility and even on a small scale, some basic business skills. 

Raising an animal in 4-H is an experience I would never trade, and it does have an unavoidable  bittersweet ending. You try not to, but it is easy to get attached to the animals all the same. Some say raising a pig, sheep or steer for market makes a kid insensitive, I saw the opposite to be true. 4-H and FFA project animals are raised with compassion and care, when the day comes there are no dry eyes. 

In the hours after the auction at the 1983 Orange County Fair, the sun slanted into the beef barn. Stall tags marked the spot for each steer with it's name and owner like me, would have to say good by. 

Tears streaming, I turned and left Mayor Bradley standing in the soft straw. Drowsy, content and chewing softly.

For more information on the OC Fair Junior Livestock Auction,  go to  http://ocfjla.org/

Foodcation, Philippe French Dipped Sandwiches, LA

It's a blistering winter afternoon in LA. I'm at the door of Philippe on Alameda Street in Los Angeles the legendary birthplace of a popular sandwich. My family and I are on another (what we fondly call) foodcation. A weekend of visiting places that have been in business for eons, to find out why they continue to be special.

Philippe opened in 1908 and one historic day in 1918 the owner dropped a french roll in pan of hot beef juice. The juice on the beef became a hit hot sandwich, the deli became famous for it's "french dip".

Ordering at the counter at Phillipe

Philippe moved once in the '50's for the building of a modern freeway, it still stands in a comfy place on the corner, a block from Olivares Street, China Town and the train station. Quiet on the exterior,however the inside is bustling and whirling with activity. Inside Philippe the clock seems to have slowed for a glimpse into the past.

The room is nicely warn just like it should be, the bar height community tables scarred with ancient names. Sawdust covered floors seem appropriate, as do the walls punctuated by neon. The heart of the Philippe, a deli counter as long as the room and just as packed. A dozen or so counter helpers, skilled at keeping up, were busy getting orders ready, helping each customer from start to finish.

I'm intrigued by the antique tiny glasses beverages are served in and how ice that sounds like chimes when they are filled. The vast menu offers breakfast to dessert which sound tempting, but I am here for the flagship "Original French Dip".

My sandwich is just as it should be, tender, moist with nose tingling mustard available. The homey potato salad is tasty if you like a boat load of relish,(I do). The cabbage swimming in dressing is tasty...it's coleslaw just like mom used to make.

Plates of French dipped sandwiches, coleslaw and potato salad at Phillipe

I ate every bite my original juicy beef sandwich, shared my coleslaw and scraped up all the potato salad. Every bit humble and delicious meal there is no doubt why Philippe has stood the test of time.

Philippe "The Original" 1001 N Alameda St  Los Angeles, CA 90012

Pinks, a hot dog adventure!

This obscene thing is my lunch. I do not feel guilty at all, not one little bit, I earned it. My husband and I drove 42 miles to have it, and anyone who has driven in L.A., can understand what that's like. We then waited forty-five minutes, on a hot side walk, in full sun, clutching our pink paper menu, preparing to order. Yes, we were rewarded for our effort.

I'm speaking of course of my "12"Jallepeno Dog" from Pinks. This massive beauty protrudes a full 6' off the bun's edge looking like a train parked on a sleeping bag. More like a sausage then a dog, it's riddled with jallepenos, smothered in chili, wispy diced onion and a smidge of mustard. We had some onion rings as well, but to be honest I think they steeped a little long in the grease. A Diet Coke to counter act any damage done by the rings and the dog.

Pinks, is a historical food lover's landmark. Located on La Brea at Melrose in L.A., it morphed from a little hot dog cart in 1939 to a white washed petite shack. Don't let looks fool you, the food is great, the service fantastically patient, and the prices amazingly low. It has been a" star magnet"for years, many celebrity's contributing their autographed pictures to the decor.

I thoroughly enjoyed munching my dog with a plastic fork,(I didn't dare try to pick it up) under a cheerful umbrella,on a clean graffiti free patio. Worth the drive, worth the wait, and way... worth the calories!


Now some guidelines for ordering etiquette at Pinks:

1. 45 minutes is nothing, people have waited hours for their delicious dog, so no whining about the wait. No fidgeting either.

2. With #1 in mind, if you bring anyone under 12 and they can't wait quietly, leave them with a sitter.

3. Read the menu ahead, don't stand in line for an hour get to the front and say, "gee...hummm... what do I want?...  because everyone behind waiting their turn, will kill you.

4. Don't screw with the food, just order off the menu! They have dogs, burgers all kinds of stuff master planned for every taste.

5. Don't annoy the staff, they are working elbow to elbow, and heroically patient. Order pay and move on.

6. Give up any Hollywood fantasy's that you'll be discovered here. Eat and go, I want your table.