Secret Histories Of Iconic American Restaurants

The transcription discusses the importance of exploring a city's culture through its food history rather than traditional tourist attractions. It highlights iconic food establishments across the United States, such as Union Oyster House in Boston, Katz's Deli in New York, and St. Elmo in Indianapolis. It also delves into the evolution of American gourmet dining, starting with Alice Waters' farm-to-table movement, Thomas Keller's French Laundry in Napa Valley, and avant-garde experiences like Alinea in Chicago. The transcription further explores high-end dining experiences at Masa in New York and Burns Steakhouse in Tampa, emphasizing unique culinary offerings and experiences. Lastly, it delves into the regional identity of New Orleans, showcasing iconic establishments like Commander's Palace and Dong Phuong Bakery. The narrative provides insights into the historical significance and cultural impact of these food destinations. So I have a theory, I'm just going to throw it out there. If you land in a new city and you really want to understand the soul of the place, I mean the real thing, not the tourist version, you should skip the history museum, you walk right past the big statue in the town square. And go where? The city archives. You go to lunch. To lunch. Okay, okay. I can get on board with that. A menu is, I mean, it's often a much better historical document than a plaque on a wall. It tells you about migration, local farming, economics, everything. Exactly. And that is the mission for today's deep dive. We are going on a cross-country culinary road trip. We've got this massive stack of sources lists of the most expensive restaurants, James Beard winners, hidden gems, you name it. It's quite the itinerary. We're going from the oldest oyster bar in Boston to a futuristic edible balloon in Chicago and then all the way down to the spicy streets in New Orleans. This is basically the ultimate bucket list for your stomach. We're talking about food that tells a story. And I think we have to start with the legends. The places that have been around so long, they're basically time machines. If we're talking time machines, we have to start in Boston. Union Oyster House. Union Oyster House, yeah. Established 1826. That just blows my mind. That's before the light bulb, before the telephone. It is the oldest continuously operating restaurant in the United States. And the atmosphere, it really reflects that. It's not a reproduction. It's the real deal. You walk in, you've got the low ceilings, the exposed beams, that classic U-shaped raw bar. It feels like you've stepped back in time. And the sources mentioned this wasn't just a place for a meal. It was a political hub. Well, absolutely. Being so close to Faneuil Hall, it was where deals were made. They actually have a designated JFK booth upstairs. Right. John F. Kennedy used to go there for some privacy, you know, read his Sunday paper and eat lobster stew. Imagine being the waiter for that table. No pressure. But my favorite detail about this place is it's actually about dental hygiene. The toothpicks. Yes, the toothpicks. The sources claim this is where they were first popularized in the U.S. It's a great story. This American businessman, Charles Forrester, he imported wooden toothpicks from South America. But to create demand, he supposedly hired Harvard students to go eat there and then loudly ask for toothpicks after their meal. So it was an influencer marketing campaign in the 1800s. Essentially, yes. And it worked. Only in Boston. Hmm. OK, let's move from oysters to something a little heavier. We have to talk about the movie stars and specifically Katz's Deli in New York. Katz is iconic. And usually when a place gets super famous for a movie scene, in this case, when Harry met Sally, the food kind of takes a nosedive, becomes a tourist trap. We'll have what she's having. Exactly. But Katz is the exception. The sources all emphasize that the food lives up to the hype and there's a real technical reason for it. It's the curing process, isn't it? That's it. Most commercial corned beef you get is like injection brined. They pump it full of saline to cure it in maybe 36 hours. It's fast. Right. Cheap. Katz's cures their meat for up to 30 days. 30 days versus 36 hours. That's a massive difference. It is. That slow cure lets the enzymes break down the muscle fibers naturally. It creates a texture and a flavor you just can't fake. That's why people line up. Speaking of movies, I was so surprised by the story of Mystic Pizza in Connecticut. I just assumed the Julia Roberts movie was filmed there because the place is already a big deal. It's the reverse, actually. The screenwriter saw the pizza place and wrote the script. But the restaurant in the movie? That was a set. So the real Mystic Pizza was just a normal pizza joint. Pretty much. Until the movie became a huge hit. They got so overwhelmed by fans that they eventually had to remodel the real restaurant to look more like the movie set. Wow. Life imitating art. I love it. Now, we can't do a Legends tour without a steakhouse. And we've got two heavy hitters, St. Elmo in Indianapolis and Peter Luger in New York. St. Elmo is fascinating. It's got that classic Midwestern, Grand American steakhouse vibe. Been there since 1902. But the thing people actually talk about isn't the steak. It's the shrimp cocktail. The spicy one. I've seen videos of people eating this. They look like they're having a medical emergency. It is incredibly spicy. They use a massive amount of fresh ground horseradish. It's like a hazing ritual for business dinners in Indy. And every entree comes with tomato juice or navy bean soup. Yeah, that's a quirk from a century ago that they just kept. It's charming. Then you have Peter Luger in Brooklyn, which kind of thrives on being a little grumpy, right? That's part of the brand. It started as a billiards and bowling alley in 1887. The waiters are fantastically brusque. But the real insider move there isn't the steak. It's the thick-cut bacon. I saw a photo that looks like a pork chop. It is substantial. But if we connect this all together, these places, Union Oyster House, Katz's, St. Elmo, they represent consistency. You go there because you know exactly what you're getting. But then in the 1970s, the script just completely flips, which brings us to our second segment, the high end and the avant-garde. It really all seems to point back to one woman in Berkeley, California. Alice Waters and Chypnese. This feels like a huge shift in the story. It is. Before 1971, if you said gourmet in America, you meant French. You meant heavy sauces, imported ingredients, everything frozen or canned. Alice Waters introduced this radical idea that the ingredients themselves should be the star. The farm-to-table movement. Exactly. But you have to remember, in 1971, this was a logistical nightmare. There was no distribution network for local organic baby lettuce. She had to convince farmers to grow specific things for her. She basically built the supply chain from scratch. It's wild that finding a good fresh tomato used to be a challenge for a top chef. But her alumni, they went on to define modern American food. They did. And that leads us directly to the Napa Valley Transformation and Thomas Keller. The French Laundry. This place is legendary. It just celebrated its 30th anniversary. It is arguably the most famous fine dining restaurant in the country. A three-hour, nine-course meal. And what Keller did was take that farm-to-table idea and refine it with just incredible French technique. I was reading about his signature dish, Oysters and Pearls. Pearl tapioca with caviar and oysters, it sounds so fancy, but also kind of playful. That's the balance. Yes, it is. But the economic impact is what gets me. The French Laundry turned Yonkville and Napa Valley into a global dining destination. It spawned a whole ecosystem, which is other places like Ad Hoc and Bouchon Bakery. Okay. So we have the ingredient obsessives, but then you have the scientists, the magicians. We have to talk about Alenia in Chicago. Ready? It's Alenia. This is where dining becomes theater. People call it molecular gastronomy. The edible balloon. How does that even work? It's a helium-filled balloon made from green apple taffy. The sugar is stabilized so it holds the gas. You suck the helium out, your voice gets all squeaky, and then you eat the sticky balloon. That's fantastic. It's like being a very wealthy kid again. And they paint desserts right on the table. There's smoke, aromas. It totally redefines what a restaurant can be. But if you really want to burn a hole in your wallet, the sources point to Masa in New York. The Hinoki counter experience. It can cost nearly $950 per person. $950 for one dinner? That's the ultimate splurge. But you're paying for fish flown in directly from Japan. You're paying for the absolute mastery of Chef Masa Takayama. It's the complete absence of compromise. On the other hand, for a different kind of excess, there's Burns Steakhouse in Tampa. Oh, Burns is a fun one. It's old-school opulence. They have one of the largest wine cellars in the world, but the real draw is the Harry Wad dessert room. Wait. A separate room just for dessert? Yes. You order a steak, and then you're escorted to a completely different area with private booths made from old wine casks just for dessert and coffee. It makes the end of the meal its own event. I love that. Okay. Let's unpack this. We've done history. We've done fancy. Now I want to get into the vibe. Because some cities just have a flavor you can't find anywhere else. You're talking regional identity, and there is no heavyweight quite like New Orleans. New Orleans is just on another level. I mean, you've got Commander's Palace. The Victorian mansion painted Commander's Blue. You can't miss it. Famous for turtle soup and, of course, the 25-cent martinis at lunch. 25 cents. That is dangerous. It's a tradition. But beyond that, Commander's Palace was the launch pad for chefs like Emeril Lagasse. It's a training ground. But no law isn't just about that. You have to mention Juki Chase's restaurant. Yes. Run by the late, legendary Leah Chase, the queen of Creole cuisine. A crucial stop. During the Civil Rights Movement, mixed-race groups couldn't meet publicly. Juki Chase's became the strategy room. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., the Freedom Riders, they met there over gumbo to plan the movement. It's amazing how food creates those safe spaces. And on the flip side, you've got the bakery scene. Dong So Long is a James Beard winner mentioned in our sources. Right. This represents the huge Vietnamese influence in New Orleans. They're famous for the French bread for po' boys and their king cakes. The line for those cakes during Mardi Gras is hours long. Speaking of lines, let's head west to Santa Fe because there's one very important question you have to answer there. Red, green, or Christmas? Referring to the chili sauce, of course. Exactly. New Mexican cuisine is very distinct. It's centered on the hatch chili. And if you order Christmas, you get both red and green sauce. And the enchiladas are different, right? Yeah. That's a key detail. They're usually stacked flat like pancakes instead of rolls. Totally. Different texture. And Frito pie, which you eat right out of the bag. That's high cuisine to me. Pure comfort food. And don't forget the Biscuit Cheetos, the official steak cookie flavored with anise and cinnamon. Moving from child to smoke, we have to talk Austin, Texas. Austin is the capital of the current barbecue renaissance. And the temple is Franklin Barbecue. The line. I've heard so many stories about the line. It is part of the experience. People show up at six in the morning with lawn chairs and coolers of beer to wait for brisket. Is it really worth waiting four hours for meat? Technically, yes. Aaron Franklin mastered the stall. The stall. It's a physics thing. When you cook a big piece of meat, the temperature stops rising at a certain point because of evaporative cooling. Pushing through that stall without drying out the brisket is an art. It breaks the collagen down into gelatin. That's why it jiggles. Okay. When you describe it as physics, it sounds impressive. It is. But, if you want music with your food, there's Stubbs for their Sunday Gospel Brunch, or Threadgill's, which started as a gas station where Janis Joplin used to sing. That's the vibe I'm talking about. And while we're in the South, we can't skip Nashville? Hot chicken. That is the signature. And we're not talking about the spicy chicken sandwich at a fast food chain. No. Real Nashville hot chicken is aggressive. It's an oil-based paste, heavy on cayenne, served on white bread with pickles. It's meant to hurt a little. But Nashville also has the neat and three. One neat, three sides, ultimate comfort food, and for dessert, a piece of candy history. The Goo Goo Cluster. A candy bar with caramel, marshmallow, peanuts, and chocolate. It was the first combination candy bar ever. Before that, candy was just like solid chocolate or taffy. The Goo Goo Cluster changed the game. Okay. This is where it gets really interesting for me. We've covered the big names, but our sources also have these hidden gems and quirky spots that aren't on every tourist map. These are often the most rewarding stops. Let's look at Portland, Oregon. Voodoo Donut. That place has such a cult following. It embodies that Keep Portland Weird slogan. They're known for crazy flavors. The Bacon Maple Bar or the Voodoo Doll Donut, which is filled with raspberry jelly. Little dark, a little delicious. It fits Portland perfectly. I'd also want to highlight some of the historic small restaurants that were mentioned in these preservation grants. Places keeping local history alive. Like the Summit Diner in New Jersey. Yes, a classic 1920s rail car diner. Or Owl's Restaurant in St. Louis. A 1920s steakhouse vibe, but they have a filet mignon stuffed with Romano cheese and prosciutto. Stuffed filet. Okay. I need to book a flight to St. Louis immediately. Then there's Bertha's Kitchen in Charleston, South Carolina. No frill sole food, but it's a James Beard winner. It proves you don't need white tablecloths for world-class food. And sometimes the best food is in the most unexpected locations. One source mentioned a place called Fat Daddy's on Bay Tracks in Charleston, West Virginia. A humble spot. Incredible fried catfish and mac and cheese. It's a reminder that great food is often hidden in plain sight. Speaking of humble beginnings, I was shocked by the origin of Joe's Stone Crab in Miami. I think of that place as super fancy. It is now. But it started in 1913 as a lunch stand on a dirt road. So how did the crabs even come into it? The biologist brought Joe Weiss some local stone crabs. Nobody ate them then. They were considered trash. Joe boiled them, served them chilled with mustard sauce, and realized, wait a minute, these are delicious. From a dirt road to selling out instantly? It's the American dream. Served with mustard sauce. So looking at this whole list, we've gone from $950 sushi to Frito Pies in a bag. What is the common thread here? I think the thread is storytelling. Whether it's the history of the building, like Union Oyster House, or the story of the ingredients at Chespanese, or the theatrical story at Alinea. These places aren't just selling calories. They're offering a memory. That's a great way to put it. And look at the diversity. You have immigrant stories like Cass's, indigenous flavors in Santa Fe, the African-American influence in New Orleans and Charleston. The American menu is a map of its people. It really is. And honestly, reading through all this, I don't just want to eat. I want to travel. That's the goal. Right. So here is our challenge to you, the listener. Don't just go to the chain restaurant down the street. Pick a city. Maybe it's New Orleans for the history. Maybe Austin for the BBQ and plan a weekend just around the meals. Treat the menu like a museum guide. Ask questions. Exactly. And I want to leave you with a final thought to chew on. In an era where we can get anything delivered in 30 minutes, where fast food is everywhere, why are we still willing to wait four hours in line for brisket or save up for a year to go to the French Laundry? It raises a really important question about value. Perhaps it's because sharing a meal, a real meal, is one of the last true communal rituals we have left. It forces us to slow down, sit across from someone and just be. And that is always worth the wait. Couldn't agree more. Thanks for joining us on this culinary road trip. We'll see you on the next deep dive. Stay hungry. Goodbye, everyone.