our turkeys 12 hours before. You just
don’t get the same effect of the Bobbie if
you’re using processed, sliced turkey.”
You’ll find the same slow-food philosophy at Harrows, known for its chicken
pot pies. It opened in the 1930s, a beacon
in the landscape when Reading, Mass.,
was a valley of farmland. Nowadays, the
business—all takeout—is on a commercial strip of road at the intersection of
routes 123 and 93. Today, the family of a
former employee owns it, but nobody has
changed a thing about the way they make
the pot pies: with slow roasted chicken,
big chunks of carrots and potatoes and
from-scratch gravy, sealed inside a
freshly baked crust. It sounds like any
regular old-fashioned chicken pot pie,
but the twist here is the serving size.
Instead of preparing only individual
pot pies (cute) or family-size pot pies
(practical), Harrows’ also offers what’s
called Apartment Size pot pies. They
feed two or three people. And here’s a
tip: They sell them cold for takeout, but
If you want one to eat there, call ahead
and ask them to bake it for you—and for
your two friends.
From Crabs to Dogs
When it comes to the crab bomb at
Jerry’s Seafood, you may want to keep
your food all to yourself. The restaurant
is a sleeper: largely unknown outside
the region, but universally praised
within it. There are four locations now,
but the original is in a former pub in
Lanham, Md. The crab bomb is sort
of like the food version of the world’s
largest ball of twine: a mammoth (but
delicious) spectacle. It’s 10 ounces of
lump backfin crab meat seasoned with
Old Bay, held together with a whisper
of mayonnaise and mounded up in a big
pile. It’s then baked.
“You can’t fry a crab bomb, it’ll
blow apart,” owner Philip Gainey, who
bought the restaurant from his uncle
Jerry, was quoted as saying on Gazette.
net, Maryland Community Newspapers
Online. The bomb earns well-deserved
praise not only from regulars, but also
from insiders. One Chowhound.com
contributor said (on the Q. T.) that a
well-known D.C. chef is a big fan.
Size is one of the many twists that
Walter’s presents to the hot dog fan. Hot
dogs—we’ll get to those in a minute—
are offered in singles, doubles or triples,
f
t
t
depending on how many you want packed
into one bun. An old newspaper editor
friend of mine once proclaimed the single
has “the best meat-to-bun ratio.”
But what you notice first about Waler’s is not the menu. It’s the architecture. Walter’s is an old-fashioned road-side attraction, in a building shaped like
a Chinese pagoda. Even the sign outside
has another twist; it looks as if it’s written in Chinese calligraphy, but actually
has a font made of hot dogs criss-crossed
to form letters.
Gene Warrington, whose father,
Walter, opened the shop in 1919 and
moved it to its present location in 1928,
says he doesn’t really know why the
restaurant was styled like a pagoda, but
guesses it might have something to do
with an old photo of his father sitting on
a bench between two Chinese friends.
Plus, he says, “that style of architecture
was very strong in the U.S. in the ’20s.”
At any rate, it got Walter’s noticed.
The kids from across the street at
Mamaroneck High School lined up
every day for lunch, and celebrities like
Jonathan Winters and Bette Davis came
for hot dogs.
“She came with a chauffeur,” says
Warrington. “She might have come up
from New York.”
It’s about a 20-minute train trip from
he city, but people from much farther
away than that are enamored with
Walter’s. Warrington has a collection of
postcards people have sent from around
the world longing for a Walter’s hot dog.
There are postmarks from Japan, Nepal
and Russia—“every country, I’ve got
them here in the closet,” says Warrington. The prized postcard came from the
Byrd expedition to Antarctica.
The hot dogs really are worth pining
or. They’re a mixture of beef, pork and
veal—and here’s another twist: they’re
split down the middle and grilled in a
secret butter-based sauce. Sinful.
Warrington said his dad got the idea
after seeing a split hot dog at Little Miss
Jo’s hot dog stand down the road at
Rye Playland. That one has sauerkraut,
so Walter thought he’d try something
different: special mustard. It’s mixed
with relish and it absolutely makes the
dog. Jane and Michael Stern, writing in
Gourmet magazine, proclaimed it the
No. 1 hot dog in the country. Now that’s
a destination food.
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