Gado Gado, Chinese Chicken Salad (1961); "Hot Dog" credit to Bruce Kraig again

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Sun Apr 4 01:49:29 UTC 2004


   The ProQuest LOS ANGELES TIMES digitization is now through the end of December 1961.  Still no "granola" or "smoothie" or "trail mix" or "kiwi" or "California roll" or "tri-tip sandwich" or "taco salad" or "hot dogging" (surf slang) or "soul food" or "Mississippi mud cake/pie" or "whole nine yards," but we're surely closer.
   This is a little earlier than the "Gado Gado" and perhaps "Chinese Chicken Salad" that I'd posted before.  (See ADS-L archives.)  "Gado Gado" is still not in OED?

Simple an Satisfying Salads from Around the World; Salads---a World at Your Table
MARIAN MANNERS. Los Angeles Times (1886-Current File). Los Angeles, Calif.: May 4, 1961. p. A1 (2 pages):
   Gado Gado salad from Bali sounds like an
(Please Turn to Pg. 10, col. 1)
outlandish creation, but the dressing is the major oddity.  Peanut butter flavors the creamy-style dressing.
   Vegetables for Gado Gado salad are a mixture of raw and cooked.  Oriental pea pods or bean sprouts may be substituted for the green beans in the recipe or added to the collection of vegetables on the plate.
   Chinese chicken salad as served in a good Oriental restaurant may look and taste like a complicated dish, and often it is.
   We have streamlined the recipe to saute chicken and toast sesame seeds at the same time.  Then the chicken is tossed with well-chilled shredded lettuce.
1 cup cut green beans
1 cup sliced carrots
2 cups shredded cabbage
   Lettuce or other greens
1 small cucumber, sliced
1 bunch radishes, sliced
1 tomato, sliced
3 hard-cooked eggs, sliced
   Peanut dressing
   Cook green beans and carrots together, covered, in small amount of boiling salted water until just tender.  Cook cabbage in small amount of water in another pan about 5 minutes.  Drain cooked vegetables and chill thoroughly.  Place bowl for dresing in center of large plate.  On crisp lettuce arrange mounds of cooked and raw vegetables and sliced eggs.  Spoon peanut dressing into bowl in center.  Makes six servings.
   Note: 1 cup cooked Chinese snow peas or bean sprouts may be added or substituted for green beans, if wished.

2 tablespoons chopped onion
2 tablespoons butter or margarine
   Dash cayenne pepper
1 teaspoon lemon juice
6 tablespoons peanut butter
1 tablespoon chopped celery
1 1/2 cups water
   Salt to taste
   Saute onion in butter until lightly browned.  Add cayenne, lemon juice, peanut butter and celery.  Mix well.  Gradually stir in water.  Cook over medium heat, stirring often, until thick and smooth, 10 to 15 minutes.  Add salt, if needed.  Makes 1 1/4 cups dressing.

3 lb. chicken breasts
2 tablespoons oil, butter or margarine
2 teaspoons sesame seed
1 tablespoon soy sauce
1/2 cup chopped parsley
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 medium-size head lettuce, shredded
   Remove bones and skin from uncooked chicken, using sharp knife.  Cut meat into thin strips.  Saute chicken and sesame seed in oil or butter until golden brown, adding more oil or butter, if needed.  Stir in soy sauce, parsley and salt.  Pour over well-chilled shredded lettuce and toss lightly.  Makes six servings.


   Once again, Bruce Kraig gets credit for my "hot dog" work.  In the nine years since my work was published in COMMENTS ON ETYMOLOGY (the work has been in the HISTORICAL DICTIONARY OF AMERICAN SLANG H-O for seven years), I have not received a single credit in any one of these articles.

Copyright 2004 The Chronicle Publishing Co.

The San Francisco Chronicle

LENGTH: 1109 words


A tribute to America's favorite ballpark fare

SOURCE: Chronicle Staff Writer

BYLINE: Carol Ness

The best way to cook a hot dog is to head out to the ballpark and buy yourself one.

Grilled? Steamed? Boiled in beer? Who cares? It's the first dog of the season, the baseball gods are smiling and your team is a contender, for now anyway.

Take that first bite of salty, sweet, smoky meat, let the juice dribble down your chin and lick the mustard off your fingers (or your shirt). That's the taste of summer, of possibility. The sun is shining, life is good and hey, maybe that bulked-up first baseman has picked up a step over the winter.

Opening Day (Monday for the Giants, Tuesday for the A's) signals the official start of the hot dog season. Estimates are that Americans eat almost 26 million hot dogs in Major League ballparks from April to October.

That's a lot -- but it's just a fraction of all the hot dogs we consume. The National Hot Dog & Sausage Council likes to say the total is 20 billion hot dogs a year, or something like 65 for every American man, woman and child -- though they do admit it's a "ballpark estimate."

"It's distinctly American. It's one of those foods that identify us. Though it's German in origin, we consider it ours," says Chicago's Bruce Kraig, one of the nation's top hot dog authorities. A Roosevelt University professor and president of the Culinary Historians of Chicago, Kraig lectures around the world on hot dogs.

Notwithstanding baseball's long romance with hot dogs, we eat far more of them at home than anywhere else.

So how are all those hot dogs getting cooked? That's almost as burning a question as what to put on top of your dog. Mustard or ketchup? Relish? Onions? Sauerkraut? If you're a Coney Island dog person, you slather it with meat in a spicy sauce. Chicago-style fans put a whole salad on top. Regional rivalries over these things have consumed Americans for, oh, a century.

Not in the Bay Area, however, no matter how food-obsessed we are. "The areas with real hot dog culture, and I hate to say this, are New York and Chicago," Kraig says. "They have the real gourmet-ship about hot dogs."

OK, but we still need to cook our dogs. The hot dog council says grilling is Americans' number one method, used by 41 percent of people surveyed. Steaming comes second (31 percent). But what about boiling in beer? Microwaving? Some people swear you have to split them and fry them in butter. In Florida, people even deep-fry them.

In the interests of hot dog science, The Chronicle food staff spent a week in the kitchen trying out all the cooking possibilities -- at least the ones that didn't involve major investments in equipment. See Best Way for the results.

But first, you have to figure out which ones to buy.

In Bay Area supermarkets, most hot dogs aren't called hot dogs at all; they're labeled frankfurters, or franks, especially the all-beef kinds. Others are made from pork, or blends of beef, pork and poultry, and a few of them call themselves hot dogs. Oscar Mayer, of course, still goes by weiner or its jingle wouldn't work.

According to federal hot dog regulators (the U.S. Department of Agriculture), hot dogs, frankfurters, weiners and even bologna are all the same thing -- cooked and/or smoked sausages.

They developed from the sausage culture that arrived with German immigrants in the mid-1800s, Kraig says. The arrival of Jewish immigrants around 1900 established the all-beef tradition in New York and Chicago.

(For the record, Kraig debunks the myth that a New York newspaper cartoonist came up with the "hot dog" nickname in the early 1900s; he says it first cropped up in college slang at Yale and Princeton in the mid-1890s, meaning a good athlete, like hot stuff; college humor magazines attached it to sausage carts that showed up at sporting events. The rest is history.)


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