Beef

A reader called to tell me that the Boomerang Pub (1110 S. Charles St.) has just started serving lunch. She raved for so long about the chili that I called chef Scott Heckendorn to see what made it so special.It is, he says, a "Texas-style chili," with chunks of lamb, veal and beef - "something like Michael Rork's chili." Heckendorn used to be the maitre d' at Hampton's in Harbor Court when Rork was the chef there. "I always had a culinary degree," he says. "And I got tired working the front of the house."

WASHINGTON -- Federal officials moved quickly yesterday to assure Japan that American beef is safe after Japanese officials discovered fragments of spine in a shipment of veal and abruptly halted imports. The halt came just five weeks after Japan had lifted a two-year ban on beef from the United States over fears that it could cause the fatal brain-wasting "mad cow" disease. The move posed a new threat to a U.S. beef trade worth more than $1 billion a year with Japan and other Asian nations that have just lifted similar bans.

NOW IS as good a time as any to discuss the downside of beef. No, this won't be a column warning you of the pitfalls of eating red meat and imploring you to turn vegan or die. That's for those wackos in the People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals. This is another kind of beef, as in the phrase "What's beef?" It's a saying common among our youth. Those into hip-hop and rap music know immediately what it is. Beef is any disagreement, static or flak you have with someone else that can and usually does lead to an altercation, sometimes verbal but often physical.

On a cool October morning 20 years ago, my college roommate, Dunst, awoke early and decided he was through eating meat.This startling decision was made known to everyone at lunch that day in the cafeteria.As I pressed a 2-story-high hamburger topped with pickles, lettuce, tomato and onions into my mouth, Dunst whispered: "Murderer!""Beg pardon?" I managed to choke."Steer-killer!" he said.Then he turned his attention to my man Witte, who was inhaling a cheese steak sandwich."You make me sick!"

Beef and onions are natural partners. The onion, at once hearty and sweet, is a sturdy accompaniment to the full-throttle flavor of red meat. Just think how a tangle of fried onions sparks a Philly cheese steak, or how short ribs seem to taste better braised with caramelized rings. This quick stir-fry celebrates the pairing. The recipe gets its name from the four members of the onion family used: a regular yellow onion, green onions, chives and garlic. The flavors are enhanced by using Japanese-style soy sauce (such as Kikkoman)

More than 1,100 people -- and a smattering of none-too-pleased cows -- were on hand yesterday for the fifth annual Maryland Beef Festival at the Carroll County Farm Museum in Westminster.The festival is a yearly celebration of all things beef, from all-beef frankfurters to all-beef patties, all-beef kebab and even some all-beef haute cuisine.A dish called "Cowboy Grilled Angus Rib Chop with Spicy Smoked Chopolote Pepper Sauce and Barbecued Painted Pony Beans" won top honors in the "Best of Beef" cook off. It was the second year in a row that Ron Leese, executive chef at the Westminster Inn, impressed the panel of three judges enough to capture first prize.

A REFERENCE in this space Monday to the hideous treatment of Jewish-style corned beef by a customer at Attman's pretty much ignited a howling cringe-fest in my circles. Friends and colleagues wrote, called and accosted me about the woman from northern Baltimore County who drove to Lombard Street last week to get an Attman's Deli fix, only to order her three corned-beef sandwiches on white bread. Some people think Attman's should have its license yanked for even serving the corned beef that way. The very idea struck most of the rational people I know as sacrilege.

LIKE MANY carnivores, I enjoyed a hunk of beef for a holiday dinner. It was delicious, pricey and, all of a sudden, newsworthy. Like an investor who jumped in the stock market just as it topped out, I invested in a $15-a-pound tenderloin just before news hit that the first case of mad cow disease had been found in the United States. The mad cow news and top dollar did not stop me from buying my holiday hunk of beef. I figured chances were very small that the meat from a dairy cow in Washington state would make it into a 5-pound tenderloin sold in Baltimore.

Jack Goldenson, a former East Lombard Street delicatessen owner who once had dreams of his business becoming a Jewish McDonald's, died at a nursing home in Scottsdale, Ariz., Feb. 8 of complications from heart surgery performed in October. The former Towson resident was 77. A native of Lublin, Poland, Mr. Goldenson lost his parents and five siblings to World War II and concentration camps. As a 13-year-old orphan, he traveled alone - and often hungry - through parts of Russia, Persia, Pakistan and Palestine before coming to New York in 1946, he told an Evening Sun reporter years later.

WHAT IS THIS?" the kids asked when a platter of corned beef was placed on our supper table.I rolled my eyes with disbelief. My offspring had failed to recognize corned beef, a traditional Irish dish. I was thankful that their grandmother or relatives on the Irish side of our family were not able to hear this remark.When I was a kid I was familiar with corned beef. It was the bright red meat that showed up on your plate with boiled potatoes and hunks of cabbage. Hours before you ate it, you smelled it cooking.