We pronounce it "baloney," but it's spelled "bologna," like the city in Italy. Americans have had a love-hate relationship with bologna, the sandwich meat, seemingly forever.
I say love-hate because most people would publicly disavow any affection for bologna, but for some it's a guilty pleasure. How could it not be, considering most of us ate bologna sandwiches when we were growing up, usually with cheese and mustard or mayonnaise or both.
Wasn't it comforting in elementary school, when it was almost lunch time and you were really hungry, to think about that bologna and cheese sandwich that Mom put in your Hopalong Cassidy lunch box?
The topic of bologna came up at the office a while back when someone noticed there was something called "bologna salad" in one of the vending machines. Seems someone found something creative to do with all those end pieces. I don't know anyone who tried the bologna salad and I don't know if it's still there, but I think they made it with mayonnaise and one of my rules of life is to never eat anything with mayo on it that comes from a vending machine.
Bologna is a sausage made from beef and pork parts usually. Exactly what parts depends on the maker and it's probably not a good idea to delve too deeply into the question. Who was it who said it's better not knowing what goes into the making of a sausage or a law?
In the case of bologna, let's just say it's not-so-prime parts of beef and pork and sometimes chicken, some sugar and salt and pepper and other spices, and of course some chemicals like good old sodium nitrite to keep it from spoiling too quickly. It's really the same formula as for making hotdogs.
At the Cincinnati Reds' stadium and also at the Buffalo rink where the Sabres play, you can get a fried bologna sandwich. It's a thick slab of bologna fried crispy on both sides and served with melted cheese and caramelized onions on a bun. Canadian fans, who frequently are in the stands for Sabres games, love it when their bologna is charred a bit.
And why is it called "bologna?" Probably because it looks like -- though doesn't much taste like -- the mortadella sausage made in and around Bologna, Italy.
Of course, an essay on bologna wouldn't be complete without reference to Oscar Mayer and the jingle, "My bologna has a first name." Consider it done.
Where do you stand on bologna -- dreck or secret pleasure?
Italy and the kiwi
When you think of kiwi, the fruit not the bird or a New Zealander, you probably don't immediately think of Italy.
But you should associate the two. According to the National Institute of Agricultural Economics, Italy has grown to become the world's largest producer of kiwi, also known as kiwifruit and once known as Chinese gooseberries.
An article in the Los Angeles Times recently says that annual kiwi production in Italy now tops 400,000 tons and that it has helped to revive the farm economy in parts of the country where people might have otherwise left the land and headed for the cities.
Here's how the Times explains it:
"A kiwi plant, it turns out, adapts fairly easily to the infrastructure used for grapes. It is planted along the same configuration of long, furrowed rows; The thin trunk is latched to a post, and its branches spread laterally to form a canopy, just like the grape vine. From a distance you might not even spot the difference, except that the leaves of the kiwi plant are rounder, fuller and a deeper shade of green."
I'm not sure what the Italian word for "kiwi" is, but the story pointed out that two of the letters in the English word don't even exist in the Italian alphabet.
Roasting corn
It's too early to get local corn yet but once you can, do try grilling it rather than boiling it in salty water. Roasting or grilling corn produces a much better flavor than just husking it and tossing it in hot water.
You know of course that the best corn would be corn that is plucked from the field and carried directly to grill or oven. The sooner it is cooked after it is picked, the better it tastes.
In past summers, I've roasted corn on the grill and in the oven and it's basically the same formula. Peel some -- but not all -- of the outer husk of the corn, and discard it. Then roast your corn on the grill, turning it often with tongs to get even cooking and avoid burning it.
The wonderful smell will alert you when it's done.
Try this: Mix some chili powder, a pinch of cumin and a dash or two of fresh lime juice to some melted butter. When your corn is ready to eat, brush it with the melted butter mixture for a delicious Southwestern flavor.
You can roast corn in the oven following roughly the same formula. Sometimes, for oven-roasting, I prefer to remove the husk completely, brush the corn with the butter mixture, and wrap it in foil for roasting. Reserve some of the butter for the finished product.
What are your corn on the cob secrets?
Reader feedback is always welcome. Add your comments below or write to Irv Dean at dean@dailygazette.com.
