A menu is more than a bunch o’ writing. A menu is an idea — an idea that Free People can get some-thing good to eat down their necks without the Big Business Fat Cat Elites shoving their celebrity–

chef–newer – is –better –inhuman–portions–precious–what-not cuisine down our throats.

A menu is an inspiration to those who yearn to be free and have the ability and dignity to determine their own supper-time.

When the agenda of bad people—you don’t know much about them, but you know they’re just really BAD—becomes de-structive of these ends, it is the right of the Good People (namely Grade “A” Fancy and everyone who agrees with us) to institute a new bill of fare: a Menu For America.

But phony Tea Party bloviation aside, here is what we want to see on the table.

Tomato Juice CocktailTomato juice should always be served in a curvy glass atop a saucer, with a doily or paper coaster lolling all classy-like between the two. Wedge of lemon at its side. Salt shaker handy. When I was five, nothing pleased me more than all the accoutrements and fancy pants fun. A little pomp can sometimes transform the simplest foods. Begin here.

Relish TrayPersonally, we think of the Relish Tray as a birthday present of crudités. The Relish Tray’s crisp wit and salty tales entertain guests while restaurant staff see to the soup and serving the chops. Everybody’s happy. Stars of the Relish Tray are Keens Chop House, Gene’s Restaurant on West 11th Street, and Jocko’s of Nipomo, CA.

Roasted ClamsIf there’s one thing the Jersey Shore does better than anybody else (let’s argue pizza!) it’s roasted clams. No bread crumbs, no crapola filler or seasonings. Just briny, tasty clams. Roasted. Hot clam liquor. Take that and compose a funky instrumental, y’all. Reigning king of Roasted Clams: Jack’s Tavern, Belmar, NJ.

Prime RibYes, blame it on the rib. Prime Rib pushed your editrix off the vegetarian wagon with a hefty heave-ho! With most people it’s bacon, but in this case she was possessed by comic strip curls of roasty beef aroma. If you had a mattress made of prime rib you’d probably get the best sleep of your life. So why is it that Prime Rib is curiously absent from many modern meat-obsessed menus? Memorable dinners with Prime Rib: The Gold Eagle in Brookville, PA, Taylor’s Steak House in Los Angeles, and Neary’s on 57th Street.

Open Faced SandwichA lunch-sized dinner, and a delicious way to get your recommended daily allowance of gravy.

SuccotashNot just for cartoons any more.

Cole SlawCole, darling. You’re at your vinegary best when you are snappy and sharp, but simply appalling when you arrive drowning in dressing.

Macaroni & Cheese permanently off the menuNo more toddler food. And, oh, chuckle—soon the twenty–nothings will all be fat from their limited diets of mac and cheese and bacon and simple syrup–laden creative cocktails. Ice Cream by the SliceA modernist angle on the classic service that blew our minds as tots. It’s the only way to serve Neapolitan ice cream. In your C02 piehole, Ferran Adrià.

PiePie is the most perfect food ever devised by man or nature. Pie is ideal for any meal or snack, and how many foods can you say that about? Eh? New Yorkers deserve fresh pie on every corner. Just the sight of a jolly slab on your plate will easily make our city a better place to live.

DoughnutWe don’t need to sell the sizzle of the world’s most popular fried dough form. All we know is that it should be eaten within a few hours of its birth, and it should never arrive wrapped in plastic.

Children’s PortionThere will be no coddling the youngsters with a special menu, only Children’s Portion. We will not serve chicken nuggets and risk the kiddies growing up spoiled and becoming the sort of poor citizens who drop cupcake wrappers wherever, text while walking up the subway steps, and demand macaroni and cheese in interesting restaurants. You’ll eat what the grown-ups are eating, only less of it. Quiet, now. Or no nitecap at Donohue’s.

Layer Cake Is there anything really better than a slice of layer cake? It’s maybe the only reason people want to celebrate birthdays. Forget the inedible spun sugar trumpet sticking out of my dessert, yawn at the crème de la crème of clever flavors stacked three high, poised to crash when a fork has the audacity to invade the pretty picture. Who wants cake? America, that’s who! Wake Up and Don’t Smell the CoffeeDid you smell nothing when you opened the door of the diner? Shocking, isn’t it? Not so long ago you would be smacked with the aroma of steamy coffee. But it isn’t improved exhaust fans, it’s the anaemic brew. We bury our nose in the mug and get nothing but a vague whiff of hot milk. We blame Mr. Coffee and his cronies. Their smaller “modern” machines replaced the big, trusty urns and coffee went down the tubes. If you don’t smell coffee when you walk into a coffee shop, you probably don’t want to drink the stuff.

Grade “A” Fancy

is published by

Karen McBurnie

and

Jon Hammer

until they run out of ice.

© 2010

grade.A.fancymag@Gmail.com