Here we have the need for differentiation rearing its head again. Heirloom vegetables have been around for eons, but there has been no real need to promote them until the marketplace became very crowded with competing products. I wrote about the consumer and vendor sides of this in Where’s the Special and Claims and Hooks.

Last year, I was introduced for the first time to heirloom tomatoes and was impressed (see here). On a recent trip to the Union Square Greenmarket, I ran across this array of heirloom potatoes. I had never really considered a world of heirloom vegetables beyond tomatoes, but there are many: beans, corn, cucumbers, lettuce, spinach, radish, melons, potatoes, okra, peppers, peas, squash, pumpkins, squash, tomatoes, and watermelons.

As with any heirloom vegetable, there are many cultivars. A number of them can be seen in the photo with names like Purple Peruvian, Russian Banana, Rose Finn, LaRatte, etc.
I have not tried any of these, but I plan to. With the plethora of food and product options out there, I think it only makes sense to judge on merit and on a case-by-case basis – some trends are great, while others are just a marketing spin.

Regarding the title of this posting: It once occurred to me that there was something quite curious about potatoes and tomatoes; they only had each other as good word rhymes and they were also both members of the nightshade family (plant family Solanaceae which includes potato, tomato, peppers, eggplant, and tobacco. It also includes some poisonous plants). At one time, many years ago, a friend who was into Macrobiotics told me that the reason they avoid nightshades is because they are extremely yin. Many years later, a friend told me that the reason her mother, who had arthritis, avoided nightshades was because the alkaloids (primarily solanine) aggravate the condition. However, I’m still intrigued about the connections via rhyme and reason…

In a competitive and crowded marketplace, many a business, product, TV program, or even political candidate needs a hook to distinguish itself. An idea, a claim, or an exclusive feature. In the case of bars, oldest is nice to be, and in NYC (like other places), the claim is sometimes made by more than one. After all, the prize of being first or oldest can be leveraged, so the battle of claims and counterclaims can be fierce. Adding a qualifier is a clever twist. This way, more than one establishment can take title to the same prize, a variation like oldest in continuous operation. For marketing, the qualifier can be dropped.

Ray’s Pizzas are probably the most infamous in the city, with numerous pizza shops all using Ray in the name and some superlative or combination of superlatives – Original, Famous, Famous Original, etc. – and claiming to be first. The Ray’s Pizza name has actually involved lawsuits. We also had a rather serious war over Guss’ Pickles.

In the world of oldest bars in NYC, we have several contenders, including Pete’s Tavern, the Bridge Cafe, and McSorley’s Ale House. Pete’s Tavern, located at 66 Irving Place at 18th Street, claims to be the longest continuously operating bar and restaurant in New York City (see 2nd photo here). They also say that “its most celebrated regular, O. Henry, wrote the classic Gift of the Magi here at his favorite booth by the front doors, in 1904.” Richard McDermott, a historian who has done a lot of digging, has cast doubts on all of these claims, including the O. Henry one. He has found that the Bridge Cafe is the oldest.

But the facts, particularly a newly revised history, typically don’t stick in people’s minds. Once something has been accepted as “fact”, it is frequently repeated and believed forever.
I find that when so much emphasis is placed on claims, sight of what’s important gets lost – the content and quality of the product or place. And, ironically, many of the places fighting over these things are not the best; they are frequently touristy spots hanging on to crumbs of questionable history to lure in customers. In the case of Pete’s Tavern, I can’t speak to the quality of the food or ambience – I have not spent time inside.

We are all barraged and saturated with messages. Unfortunately, to get our attention, businesses must frequently resort to pulling out all the stops and relentlessly hammering a simple claim with hope that it hooks…

No, I’m not lying – the smell of durian has been described as that of turpentine and onions, gym socks, civet, sewage, stale vomit, skunk spray, used surgical swabs, garbage, moldy cheese, rotting fish, and dead cats. Even where the fruit is popular in Southeast Asia, it is actually banned from some establishments such as hotels, subways, and airports. The scent is so strong that it can be picked up by animals half a mile away. The husk is incredibly spiky and dangerous to handle – mine was wrapped in newspaper before bagging. And I am not particularly enamored with the look of the flesh, which has been described by some as custardy in consistency – that’s being generous. Click here for photos of the fruit cut open and its flesh.

The fruit is still relatively unknown in America, where it is found primarily in Asian markets. I purchased mine in Chinatown for $7 – it is not inexpensive. Durian is strictly tropical, originating from Indonesia and Malaysia, with Thailand now the primary exporter. In Asia, where it is hailed as the King of Fruits, the smell is prized – the smellier the better. Many eat it every day. Durian goes back to prehistoric times and is the subject of legend and myth. There is a virtual world surrounding this fruit (click here for an in-depth article).

I’ve planned on writing about this fruit for sometime. Yesterday I finally purchased one and brought it back to the office for all to share. I can still see and taste this thing this morning, but I’m really giving it a second and third chance, hoping it grows on me. The first time I tried to eat durian, I was absolutely revolted, so this time I was better prepared. For those not used to it, Durian is truly an acquired taste. I’m going to try some again today. Wish me luck…

Footnote: In an interesting twist, a no-stink variant was developed in 2007 in Thailand by scientist Dr. Songpol Somsri. After working for decades and crossing 90 varieties of durian, he has created Chantaburi No. 1. It reputedly has an odor as mild as a banana.