Meat Loaf Is the Answer, Part 3: A brief postscript to yesterday's Taco, Broccoli and Lutefisk Walk reference.

Meat Loaf Is the Answer, Part 1: Local food culture presupposes local culture. Popeyes, anyone?

Meat Loaf Is the Answer, Part 2: Let's come together over meat loaf.

The straight dope on the Taco Walk.

DNA's Durian Fruit Taco Walk started me thinking about meatloaf (meat loaf).

Develop New Albany's Broccoli Walk is August 12. What? Oops, sorry -- it's a Taco Walk.

I'm not an ogre, and I'm not hiking my leg and Dugginsizing all over a good idea from a well-intentioned individual. Rather, I regard it as a teaching moment, whether or not I have any students in attendance.

A Taco Walk or similar activities should be the domain of a functioning restaurant association, which currently (and unfortunately) we possess only as a conceptual outline. Some day, I hope this comes together.

Eateries constantly are approached with such ideas as a Taco Walk, many of them good and others not so much.

Invariably, these events are one-offs, constructed to maximize the future of the event itself and the share taken by the sponsor. Just as inevitably, the events are "special," not reinforcing of the day-to-day, as with the notion of a pizzeria making tacos only one day a year, only for the Taco Walk, which isn't necessarily a productive use of time or effort because it doesn't represent what it does on a daily basis.

In the case of one-off events like the Taco Walk, owners and managers are hesitant to refuse participation for fear that it will offend the city, which is perceived to be the force behind the idea, seeing as the city sponsors DNA, and DNA sponsors the event itself. That's why it can seem like a shakedown, even when it isn't.

Far better that these events come from within a restaurant association as a consortium of those who know best what's best for their businesses. Right now, this couldn't originate where it should, because the framework barely exists. As I said, maybe some day this will change. Note also that the same idea applies to independent local businesses in general, apart from food and drink.

Furthermore, speaking personally, it comes back to how one wishes to direct his or her money.

I'd say the vast majority of expenditures Diana and I make on food and drink goes to eateries and watering holes in downtown NA, precisely the ones participating in the Taco Walk.

Concurrent to this, there is DNA, now positioning itself as yet another captive arm of City Hall's diversionary propaganda and events-planning efforts, while neglecting certain key aspects of its mission as a Main Street organization, presumably because these are matters that Deaf Gahan likes to keep in his own in-box for maximum political self-aggrandizement.

Finally, there is the fact that yes, I served my terms inside the DNA organization (just shy of three years, if memory serves), and have subsequently immersed myself in the wider issues that pertain to the success of the city's food and drink community -- streets, sidewalks, subsidies, policies and the like. That's something DNA itself might try doing -- as a change of pace.

Restaurants and bars cannot exist in a vacuum. Various governmental decisions with ramifications on the conduct of commerce every single day matter tremendously -- and these are the same decisions DNA traditionally has avoided any involvement in reaching, except when they directly impact DNA itself (see market, farmers); only then does DNA leap into the fray.

Put all this together, and it should become clear that while I'm perfectly willing to spend my money by handing it directly to locally-owned businesses, I'm unwilling to do it when DNA acts as the intermediary.

Instead, I'll hand it directly to Chef Israel next Saturday night.

On the other hand, when (if) DNA undertakes useful activities that address the wider issues, I'm willing to support them. As it stands, DNA is serving as a toady for a mayor-for-life's crass daily re-election campaign, and I have no interest in contributing to this.

But I have an open mind, and await persuasion. There are numerous others, but here are three relevant questions for DNA:

1. How much is municipal government contributing to DNA's operation each budget cycle? I believe the sum used to be around $5,000 per year. Now that DNA has a part-time staff person, we can surmise that the sum is greater. Is it?

2. Since it remains the case that any time an organization like DNA is funded by the city, from a mere thin dime up to thousands of dollars, it is the right of any citizen to know where his or her tax monies are going, how much of the proceeds of the Taco Walk remain with DNA after eateries are reimbursed, and what will DNA be doing with the proceeds?

3. Ranging a bit from meat loaf (why?), is DNA playing an active role in the city's implied (though unrevealed "Make parking Great Again" plan for downtown? I've heard city officials make hints at merchant meetings, and am wondering if this is something occurring with the active participation of DNA, seeing as this would actually be a component of the organization's Main Street mission.

I won't be holding my breath waiting for answers, but make no mistake: DNA should be providing them.

Meat Loaf Is the Answer, Part 2: Let's come together over meat loaf.

Meat Loaf Is the Answer, Part 1: Local food culture presupposes local culture. Popeyes, anyone?

Meat Loaf Is the Answer, Part 3: A brief postscript to yesterday's Taco, Broccoli and Lutefisk Walk reference.

DNA's Lutefisk Taco Walk started me thinking about meatloaf (or meat loaf), and a far bigger civic game, surpassing Mexican-derived street food in August.

Develop New Albany's Broccoli Walk is August 12. What? Oops, sorry -- it's a Taco Walk.

The most recent mention of meat loaf in the NAC archives comes in 2013:

ON THE AVENUES REWOUND: Wonderful and delightful harvesting ... in 2013.

Here's the reprint, lightly edited for topicality.

Alas, we've waited to long for implementation, because Paxico, Kansas has beaten us to the meat loaf festival*. However, since Paxico numbers a mere 211 residents, I suspect we might yet infiltrate their shtick, just so long as we don't claim world championship status for the winners. 

Let's come together over meat loaf.

---

We’ve considered another pressing question many times previously: Do we need a second major civic festival in New Albany?

Whatever its future disposition, Harvest Homecoming has the autumn outdoor imagery slot locked up tight, and in late April, two weeks of Kentucky Derby revelry usually consumes Southern Indiana residents and then spits them back out in mid-May, after the horse pimps have moved on to fresh drugging elsewhere.

A few years back, there was a springtime Da Vinci fest in downtown New Albany, which in retrospect may have been just slightly before its time. Da Vinci’s twist was a bicycle racing component; if it ever were to be resurrected, as with the recent New Albany Crit, I’d like to see beercycling events take place, too. 

Of course, a dozen or more weekends annually are booked with local and regional church picnics, concerts and specialized fetes. Finding an open date for our second major civic festival might be difficult, indeed.

(While none of the preceding can compete in scale and impact with the true heavyweight world fests – Oktoberfest, Mardi Gras, Running with the Bulls, or that lesser-known fete in Spain where they stage massive civic tomato fights – the violence inherent in each of these, real or imagined, certainly qualifies them as worth copying for city council fundraising opportunities.)

With the chair’s permission, permit me to repeat my insistent civic festival proposal: As held on Election Day in November, it calls for the exaltation of meat loaf.

Not upper-case Meat Loaf, formerly Marvin Aday, who always wanted to sleep on it, but lower-case meat loaf: The myth, the legend and the great extender, tastily stretching limited household meats and means. Meat loaves of varying composition are rock solid staples in cultural, culinary repertoires the world over.

Great meat loaves? There’s a certain ring to that, and a growling of stomachs.

Does head cheese qualify as meat loaf?

I think so. Pig parts congealed in aspic and formed into a quivering block definitely merit a side competition for the more adventurous, because after all, aren’t we past the whole catsup glaze notion? Instead, our competition will encourage creativity. You can barbecue meat loaf, make it Cuban, or substitute Honey Creme doughnuts for filler.

Why Election Day for this festive “New Albany Loves Meat Loaf” gig? It’s an apt metaphor for a municipality (and county, and state) with budgets long since pared of lean and fat, where we’re down to cooking the bones for a bit of flavoring marrow.

Indiana’s former governor, current university head and future saint Mitch Daniels already had the Hoosier 99% dining on scant meat loaf when he left office, and his successor Mike Pence (and now Eric Holcomb) is steady at the helm when it comes to ensuring the better cuts of cow stay at the “right” tables. 

The rest of us might as well learn a few meat loaf recipes sooner rather than later -- if not for own sustenance, then maybe for paying the municipal workers.

---

*

Meat Loaf Is the Answer, Part 1: Local food culture presupposes local culture. Popeyes, anyone?

Meat Loaf Is the Answer, Part 2: Let's come together over meat loaf.

Meat Loaf Is the Answer, Part 3: A brief postscript to yesterday's Taco, Broccoli and Lutefisk Walk reference.

The Broccoli Taco Walk started me thinking about meat loaf (meatloaf).

Develop New Albany's Broccoli Walk is August 12. What? Oops, sorry -- it's a Taco Walk.

Way back on 28 June 2014 we pondered the dimensions of local food culture in New Albany. It's worth another look.

---

Might we invent a local food culture in New Albany?

Cincinnati has goetta and it's own distinctive chili.

Down river in Evansville, calves' brain sandwiches are a specialty, albeit one probably borrowed from St. Louis.

Does Louisville's hot brown fit the bill, or is the entire state of Kentucky represented by cured hams and bourbon? After all, they represent all the relevant food groups.

Then there's New Albany, and no, Rally's is not eligible as a yardstick.

I've consistently advocated meatloaf as the culinary concept most in keeping with local culture, or its absence, suggesting that we promote a themed meat loaf festival as a springtime alternative to Harvest Homecoming. Now that there is a Boomtown fest on Memorial Day weekend, perhaps the time has come: A Houndmouth ale in every hand, and a meatloaf ciabatta in every disposable wrapper. The band itself can judge the cooking competition. There can be meatless loaves, too.

It begs a question: At one time, would river cats and carp have been staple in a place like this? Noting that Hungarians render a fine, peppery soup from Lake Balaton carp, a bottom-feeding Scribner Bouillabaise springs to mind. Serve with a spoon and strainer, as those fish are bony.

Local food culture presupposes local culture, and in this sense, New Albany's legacy of dependable underachievement jibes almost perfectly with glib American stereotypes of Frenchmen rising in the morning to be first to surrender. Maybe the NA baguette needs to come without meat or cheese, and stale. If it cannot be eaten, it can be used to smack new ideas in the face.

How to invent a local food culture, by Simon Preston (The Guardian)

In many British towns, local dishes have never evolved or have been forgotten. Is it possible to invent a meaningful food culture for a place that doesn't have one?

In most areas of Britain, local dishes have never evolved or have been forgotten. But might it be possible simply to invent a food culture for a place that doesn't have one? After all, a connection to the food we eat and to the place we live is a vital part of helping us to lead happy, healthy lives.

ON THE AVENUES REWOUND: Wonderful and delightful harvesting ... in 2013.

ON THE AVENUES: Wonderful and delightful harvesting ... in 2013.

A weekly web column by Roger A. Baylor.

NABC’s 6th annual Fringe Fest provides an oasis of beer-driven sanity amid the bedlam. This column has been updated to reflect new, unchanged realities in New Albany. 

Properly rendered, civic festivals are just the sort of exercise to promote good times, unite the citizenry, help us bond through joy and alcohol (on second thought, that’s a redundancy), and maybe provide another yearly excuse to conduct a spate of deep street cleaning – preferably, both before and after the crowds come through.

When it comes to civic festivals, New Albany prefers ponderous bludgeoning over subtle stilettos. In rhetorical terms, so do I, and yet my feelings about Harvest Homecoming probably are more nuanced than they often appear to be.

I like it.

Except when I don’t.

For those just tuning in, Harvest Homecoming is New Albany’s annual 800-lb municipal gorilla, or stated more mildly, it is the granddaddy of all festivals in this slowly recovering, stubbornly hidebound city.

The annual arrival of the itinerant carnies precedes the opening weekend’s parade (this year, on October 5), and starting on the 10th, the heart of the historic business district downtown is handed over lock, stock and sewer pipe to Harvest Homecoming’s mysterious, Kremlinesque governing committee. Four solid days of throng-crowded booths ensue, manned by local indies and huckster mercenaries alike, dispensing foodstuffs, arts, crafts, politics and anti-abortion counseling, and completely disrupting any semblance of downtown commerce as finally functioning properly.

Increasingly, this yearly disruption constitutes the flash point.

For decades, there was little objection to Harvest Homecoming’s yearly invasion and occupation of downtown, because downtown was a ghost town. Now it isn’t, and dynamic revitalization has a predictable way of igniting a revolution of rising expectations among a new generation of downtown business owners, investors and clients. These are plain facts. However, as yet, there is no obvious solution to dynamism’s clash with conservatism, primarily because the low level of daily communication between various interested parties makes sparse dialogue between North and South Korea look like a beer hall sing-along in Munich.

Yes, there have been painstakingly slow and incremental concessions, and as Harvest Homecoming generationally reloads, the festival surely must go through a necessary process of reinvention. But from the standpoint of newer downtown businesses, the root equation remains largely unaltered: Harvest Homecoming’s longtime business model is dependent on the existence of a clean, moribund downtown slate that no longer exists, and if anything, will grow even less adaptive to the festival’s needs in the years to come.

My personal nuances are these: I don’t dislike the idea of Harvest Homecoming, only its current implementation. I believe it can be adapted to take full advantage of potential symmetry between it and an evolving downtown business district, without sacrificing its tradition, and to the benefit of all parties involved. I envision a downtown food and drink court on the current booth grid, one maximizing the uniqueness of our burgeoning dining scene, retaining space for booths while not blocking year-long purveyors. I foresee a celebration of what downtown New Albany is, and is becoming.

You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one. I’m just the only one stupid enough to dream aloud. For this, I'm sure to be punished.

---

We’ve considered another pressing question many times previously: Do we need a second major civic festival in New Albany?

Whatever its future disposition, Harvest Homecoming has the autumn outdoor imagery slot locked up tight, and in late April, two weeks of Kentucky Derby revelry usually consumes Southern Indiana residents and then spits them back out in mid-May, after the horse pimps have moved on to fresh drugging elsewhere.

A few years back, there was a springtime Da Vinci fest in downtown New Albany, which in retrospect may have been just slightly before its time. Da Vinci’s twist was a bicycle racing component; if it ever were to be resurrected, as with the recent New Albany Crit, I’d like to see beercycling events take place, too. Of course, a dozen or more weekends annually are booked with local and regional church picnics, concerts and specialized fetes. Finding an open date for our second major civic festival might be difficult, indeed.

(While none of the preceding can compete in scale and impact with the true heavyweight world fests – Oktoberfest, Mardi Gras, Running with the Bulls, or that lesser-known fete in Spain where they have tomato fights – the violence inherent in each of these, real or imagined, certainly qualifies them as worth copying for city council fundraising opportunities.)

With the chair’s permission, permit me to repeat my insistent civic festival proposal: As held on Election Day in November, it calls for the exaltation of meatloaf.

Not upper-case Meat Loaf, formerly Marvin Aday, who always wanted to sleep on it, but lower-case meat loaf: The myth, the legend and the great extender, tastily stretching limited household meats and means. Meat loaves of varying composition are rock solid staples in cultural, culinary repertoires the world over.

Great meat loaves? There’s a certain ring to that, and a growling of stomachs.

Does head cheese qualify as meat loaf?

I think so. Pig parts congealed in aspic and formed into a quivering block definitely merit a side competition for the more adventurous, because after all, aren’t we past the whole catsup glaze notion? Instead, our competition will encourage creativity. You can barbecue meat loaf, make it Cuban, or substitute Honey Cream doughnuts for filler.

Why Election Day for this festive “New Albany Loves Meat Loaf” gig? It’s an apt metaphor for a municipality (and county, and state) with budgets long since pared of lean and fat, where we’re down to cooking the bones for a bit of flavoring marrow.

Indiana’s former governor, current university head and future saint Mitch Daniels already had the 99% dining on scant meat loaf when he left office, and his successor Mike Pence is steady at the helm when it comes to ensuring the better cuts of cow stay at the “right” tables. The rest of us might as well learn a few meat loaf recipes sooner rather than later -- if not for own sustenance, then maybe for paying the municipal workers.

ON THE AVENUES: Wonderful and delightful harvesting.

ON THE AVENUES: Wonderful and delightful harvesting.

A weekly web column by Roger A. Baylor.

Properly rendered, civic festivals are just the sort of exercise to promote good times, unite the citizenry, help us bond through joy and alcohol (come to think of it, that’s a redundancy), and maybe provide another yearly excuse to conduct deep street cleaning – preferably, both before and after the crowds come through.

When it comes to civic festivals, New Albany prefers bludgeoning over stilettos, and in rhetorical terms, so do I, and yet it probably isn’t readily apparent that my feelings about Harvest Homecoming are more nuanced than they often appear.

I like it, except when I don’t.

For those just tuning in, Harvest Homecoming is New Albany’s annual 800-lb civic gorilla, or stated more mildly, it is the granddaddy of all festivals in this fair city. The itinerant carnies’ arrival preceded last weekend’s parade, and starting today, the heart of the historic business district downtown is handed over to Harvest Homecoming’s mysterious, Kremlinesque governing committee for four solid days of throng-crowded booths, manned by locals and mercenaries alike, dispensing foodstuffs, arts, crafts, politics and anti-abortion counseling, and completely disrupting any semblance of commerce as usual.

Increasingly, this yearly disruption constitutes the rub.

For decades, there was little objection to Harvest Homecoming’s invasion of downtown, because downtown was a ghost town. Now it isn’t, and dynamic revitalization has a predictable way of igniting a revolution of rising expectations among a new generation of downtown business owners, investors and clients. These are plain facts. As yet, there is no obvious solution to dynamism’s clash with conservatism, primarily because the low level of daily communication between various interested parties makes sparse dialogue between North and South Korea look like a beer hall sing-along in Munich.

Yes, there have been painstakingly slow and incremental concessions, and as Harvest Homecoming generationally reloads, the festival is going through a necessary process of reinvention. But from the standpoint of downtown business, the root equation remains largely unaltered: Harvest Homecoming’s own business model is dependent on the existence of a clean downtown slate that no longer exists, and if anything, will grow less adaptive to the festival’s needs in coming years.

My personal nuances are these: I don’t dislike the idea of Harvest Homecoming, only its current implementation. I believe it can be adapted to take full advantage of potential symmetry between it and an evolving downtown business district, without sacrificing its tradition, and to the benefit of all parties involved. I envision a downtown food and drink court on the current booth grid, one maximizing the uniqueness of our burgeoning dining scene, retaining space for booths while not blocking year-long purveyors. I foresee a celebration of what downtown New Albany is, and is becoming.

You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one. I’m just the only one stupid enough to dream aloud.

---

We’ve considered another pressing question many times previously: Do we need a second major civic festival in New Albany?

Whatever its future disposition, Harvest Homecoming has the autumn outdoor imagery slot locked up tight, and in late April, two weeks of Kentucky Derby revelry usually consumes Southern Indiana residents and then spits them back out in mid-May, after the horse pimps have moved on.

A few years back, there was a springtime Da Vinci fest in downtown New Albany, which in retrospect may have been just slightly before its time. Da Vinci’s twist was a bicycle racing component; if it ever were to be resurrected, I’d like to see beercycling events take place, too. Of course, a dozen or more weekends annually are booked with local and regional church picnics, concerts and specialized fetes. Finding an open date for our second major civic festival might be difficult, indeed.

(While none of the preceding can compete in scale and impact with the true heavyweight world fests – Oktoberfest, Mardi Gras, Running with the Bulls, or that lesser-known fete in Spain where they have tomato fights – the violence inherent in each of these, real or imagined, certainly qualifies them as worth copying for Bicentennial fundraising opportunities.)

With the chair’s permission, permit me to repeat my civic festival proposal: To be held on Election Day in November, it calls for the exaltation of meat loaf.

Not upper-case Meat Loaf, as in Marvin Aday, who always wanted to sleep on it, but lower-case meat loaf: The myth, the legend and the great extender, tastily stretching limited household meats and means. Meat loaves of varying composition are rock solid staples in cultural, culinary repertoires the world over.

Great meat loaves? There’s a certain ring to that, and a growling of stomachs.

Does head cheese qualify as meat loaf? I think so. Pig parts congealed in aspic and formed into a quivering block definitely merit a side competition for the more adventurous, because after all, aren’t we past the whole catsup glaze notion? Instead, our competition will encourage creativity. You can barbecue meat loaf, make it Cuban, or substitute Honey Cream doughnuts for filler.

Why Election Day for this festive “New Albany Loves Meat Loaf” gig? It’s an apt metaphor for a municipality (and county) with budgets long since pared of lean and fat, where we’re down to cooking the bones for a bit of flavoring marrow.

Saint (and mercifully soon to be former governor) Daniels already has the 99% in Indiana dining on meat loaf, and so we might as well learn a few recipes sooner rather than later, if not for eating ourselves, then maybe for paying the municipal workers.

Today's Tribune column: "An ingénue’s guide to festive NA."

From waterfront to meat loaf, in 900 easy words ... and not a single disingenuous syllable.

BAYLOR: An ingénue’s guide to festive NA

The Ohio River is the very reason for New Albany’s existence. It is a multi-faceted presence, serving as an artery, an impediment, a friend and sometimes, as in the epochal floods of 1937, an adversary.