This in the TNT Diner inbox this morning:

Hello--
I'm a former resident of Tacoma, south end.  We used to go to two different Italian restaurants in that end of town, La Pergola in Spanaway, then South Tacoma, and Amerigo's in University Place ..... I am looking for some kind of contact or any recipe info the TNT might have published.  We're talking the 1950's.
Thanks for your help.
Richard White

Unfortunately, a hand search of our microfiche library could take days or weeks and I'm on deadline for two stories and a project this week and next (doh!).

I recommended the reader connect with the Northwest Room at the Tacoma Public Library for some background research. But I thought perhaps TNT Diner readers may have background information, fodder, maybe even recipes for this reader. If you do, please comment.

Photo by Janet Jensen/The News Tribune

TNT Diner reader Olemag asks in the You Plate Special thread, "But WHERE ARE THE REAL TAMALES?"

When I think of good tamales, I think of Vuelve a la Vida on Pacific. A few years ago I was invited to a gourmand potluck with chefs, sommeliers, food writers – completely lovable, but snobbish food elitists, all of them. The theme was "best Mexican ever." I presented a tray of Vuelve's tamales. I didn't even get one, they flew off the table in a tamales flurry. My friends pledged allegiance to Vuelve.

TNT Diner readers agree with the lure of Vuelve. Here's what they said:

TNT Diner reader kalvyn: If you like Mexican food, and you've not yet eaten at Vuelve A La Vida, do so immediately if not sooner. Thursdays are homemade chiles relleno night. Don't do on those nights, so I'll have some chiles left for us when we get there!
For what it's worth, I've been to Mexico twice in the last few years. I've STILL not had better Mexican food than what you get at Vuelve, even in Mexico!

TNT Diner reader steilacoomtaxpayer: I totally agree with you,kalvyn, Vuelve A La Vida cannot be surpassed in T-Town, or anywhere in a radial 100 miles (thus falling short of Yakima, though they would have a real go at it there). Wow! That is good Mexican food.

YOUR TURN: Where do you get your tamales? Click the read more button to see a few places around town that serve tamales (it's not a complete list).

My standards: a good ratio of sauce to masa, with an ample amount of meat inside. I like a small sting of spice in the sauce. And a lightly sweet corn flavor to the masa. What are your tamales standards?

=> Read more!

We spent last week eating our way around tribal casinos for today's GO section. You can read our analysis of eats at the Emerald Queen Casinos in Fife and Tacoma, the Muckleshoot Casino in Auburn and the Red Wind Casino in Olympia right here.

Craig Sailor and I both noted in our reviews the pervasiveness of the cigarette smoke in the restaurants at the tribal casinos (tribal casinos on tribal land aren't governed by Washington state's public indoor smoking laws). I have been so accustomed to eating in smoke-free restaurants, it was quite a palate shock. How do you handle it when you're eating at a tribal casino? Or do you avoid eating at tribal casinos because of the smoke? We're curious.

Like bacon, soup is not exactly food fodder for August, (although it's not really summery or hot or anything), but I bring it up anyway because it's what I plan to write about for the food section in September-ish, probably sometime after the bacon dessert story.

I stopped in at Infinite Soups last Thursday to talk soup with co-owner Wendy Clapp (full disclosure: Clapp and Infinite cohorts Laura Adams and Todd DeShazo used to run Cafe Trib here). I ordered a cup of avocado corn chowder and we chatted about the making of soup. Good, delicious soup. She'll be a great source for the story.

I'd like to branch out into soups of varying cultures and construction. Like the samlah kako soup at Mitapeap Khmer, a Cambodian restaurant off of 72nd and Portland. I lunched with Arts & Entertainment editor Craig Sailor there a few weeks ago and we started a conversation with chef and co-owner Tharath Eang about his samlah kako. He says the flavor punch in the green curry soup is roasted rice powder. Agreed. I like the chunks of pumpkin and eggplant that make this deeply flavored soup a seriously hearty fall dish. Yet still, I crave it in August. Such a good soup. In the category of stew, Eang used to have a great beef stew on the menu. It was deliciously hearty and punched with star anise, the kind of stew that commands an accompanying baguette. He says he'll bring the stew back on the menu soon, but will make it if a customer requests. Believe me, I will be requesting. So should you.

So forget that it's August. Help me get started on the soup story. Who else should I talk to? Which restaurants here have great soups? Tell me, I might be able to score you a recipe.

I have been in search of banh mi, those tasty Vietnamese salad sandwiches, since coming to Tacoma to be The News Tribune's food editor (2004, if you're taking notes).

I was introduced to them in Seattle by my friend, food writer Matthew Amster-Burton. Just head to the intersection of 12th and Jackson in the International District to find the banh mi collective. On one corner is Seattle Deli. Just steps from there is Saigon Deli. There used to be another shop, Banh Mi 88, but it looks as if it has closed. Of course, there are other shops nearby that sell them, but I like 12th and Jackson, that neighborhood, best.

My operating premise: Grab two sandwiches (both for the low price of under $5, of course) and hoof over to Safeco for a Mariner's game. Forget ballpark dogs, I'll take mine banh mi, thanks (plus maybe barbecued pork from Kau Kau).

I know banh mi hit a frenzy five or so years ago in Seattle, and now the sandwiches are just another cheap bite in the culinary landscape there, but I don't think I have found enough places that make them in Tacoma. With my lunch budget shrinking thanks to (insert generic rising gas price reference here), I'm restarting my prowl for cheap, good sandwiches. So far, I've only found banh mi at Vicala Market (next door to LeLe on MLK) and at the East Asia Supermarket on 38th

So banh mi collective in Tacoma, where is it?

With berry season upon us, we've been salivating all week in the newsroom over thoughts of pie. We're formulating our pie lust into a story, of course.

We've got our eye on interviewing a few of the winners from the Puyallup Fair pie contests, but who else should we lob our pie questions at? Any great pie bakers around here we should talk to? Which restaurants dish up great pie?

Oh, and the important question: what makes you want to dig your fork into a slice? The crust? Filling? The delicious merging of both? Your thoughts appreciated.

Posted by Sue Kidd, Food Editor

Fish House Cafe's deep-fried catfish sandwich -- great, even without tomatoes.

I usually order Fish House Cafe's fried catfish sandwich with cheese. Yesterday, I forgot to order the cheese. Something else was different: Fish House eighty-six'd the tomatoes.

Blame it on the tainted tomato tornado that's affecting only a small percentage of the nation's tomatoes but is sweeping across America, with many restaurants pulling fresh tomatoes off their menus. (At Steamers at Titlow Beach today, fresh tomatoes graced my fish taco. When I inquired, the cook said to have no worries: "Our tomatoes are good.")

At any rate, Fish House's fried catfish sandwich is terrific with or without tomatoes. It's $5. Be sure to order the crunchier corn-meal breading. You get two big and juicy filets, tartar sauce, lettuce and (conditions permitting) tomatoes, on a soft sesame bun. The contrasting stack goes like this: soft, crunchy, tender, soft. Add a slice of unmelted American cheese if you enjoy the processed texture in the middle. I do.

Speaking of tomatoes, I spoke with two lady farmers at the Proctor farmers market Saturday. Both said their tomatoes are running late, thanks to the gloomy June weather.

Another red fruit, however, is said to be on track. A farmer from Puyallup's Sidhu Farms told me Saturday that he'll have strawberries this week.

Fish House Cafe: 1814 Martin Luther King Jr. Way, Tacoma; 253-383-7144

Have you had any Copper River salmon yet?

Looking for Copper River salmon at South Sound restaurants? Don’t strain your eyes.

Anthony’s at Point Defiance and Anthony’s in Gig Harbor, along with CI Shenanigans and the Lobster Shop on Tacoma’s waterfront don’t have any of the coveted fish.

Amid bad weather, Friday’s opening yield was about one-seventh of the anticipated harvest, according the Alaska Department of Fish and Game

"We got some on Saturday but we sold out by Sunday,” said Paul Schmitt, manager of Anthony’s at Point Defiance.

Schmitt’s forecast echoed other South Sound restaurants: No Copper River king or sockeye salmon today and maybe not tomorrow.

“We’re hoping to get some at the very latest by Wednesday,” Schmitt said.

Referring to the limited catch the fleet of Anthony's restaurants received, Schmitt said, “We have to spread it out. The Seattle stores need some.”

Two Seattle Anthony’s locations, one at Pier 66 and one in Shilshole, said they have Copper River king on the menu today. Meanwhile, Anthony’s in Gig Harbor is in the same boat as its Tacoma kin.

CI Shenanigans reports that it’s also waiting. The chipper hostess who answered the telephone at the Tacoma waterfront restaurant this morning offered this uplifting concession: “We do have Washington wild salmon.”

Some supermarkets are fishless. Metropolitan Markets in Tacoma’s Proctor neighborhood and in Dash Point report “limited” shipments on Saturday. This morning, fishmongers at both stores were waiting. QFCs in Parkland and Lakewood haven’t seen any Copper River fish.

“The opening was kind of a bummer,” said Mike Carver, the seafood manager at Metropolitan Market in Tacoma.

Carver said he got two of the 800 kings caught Friday.

This morning, Carver was waiting for more.

Which sets the hook for a simmering question: With retail Copper River prices ranging from $28-$39 per pound and restaurant dinner prices ranging from the $28-$50, is Copper River salmon worth the wait and worth the price?

Can't you smell that smell? I did, even before my longtime dining companion turned up her nose and said, "I don't want to be here."

Last week's stinky dinner -- the food was good, the air was greasy and the owner eventually turned on the ceiling fan -- wasn't the first time that a restaurant didn't pass my longtime dining companion's sniff test.

Mold.

Lysol.

Smoke.

General funk.

My longtime dining companion has been odiferiously offended by all of them. In the past, we've walked out of restaurants rather than stay. This time, I gave my longtime dining companion the vinegar-and-dagger look that said, "Hold your nose and eat. I've got a job to do."

Which leads to a simmering question:

What kind of restaurant smells annoy you? What do you do when something stinks?

Amid a tottering economy, rising inflation, increasing unemployment and a housing market meltdown, waiters, beauticians and pet groomers report that customers are growing tightfisted.

[snip]

On a typical Saturday night, Brian Best once earned as much as $200 in tips as a server at Bubba Gump Shrimp Co. at Universal CityWalk. Since the fall, Best's tip take has slid to about $120 on a weekend night.

"People just don't have the money. They will go out to eat, but won't tip as much," Best said.

He now gets 10% to 15% of what his customers spend at the eatery, down from 15% to 20% before the economy's nose dive.

"I am hanging out a lot less at clubs and bars. I don't have the money," Best said.

That tipping tale is from today's Los Angeles Times.

It stokes a simmering question for diners:

Do you tip less when money's tight?

It stokes a simmering question for servers:

How are your tips these days?

Now there are seven kinds of Coke
500 kinds of cigarettes
This freedom of choice in the USA drives everybody crazy
-- from "See How We Are" by X

My dinnermate dove into the mosh pit of side-dish indecision at McGrath's Fish House in Federal Way last week.

The wild roasted salmon stuffed with asparagus came with a choice of side dishes: red potatoes, pasta, rice, fries, tomato slices or cottage cheese. It also came with green salad or cole slaw, and an unspecified vegetable that turned out to be Chinese broccoli.

But, wait, there's more:

For an additional 59 cents, my dinnermate could upgrade her regular dinner salad to the one with pears and blue cheese or to the petite shrimp Louie -- or she could have a cup of chowder or seafood stew.

It didn't help that the server ran through the sides, salads and soup upgrades faster than a punk rocker on a power-chord drive.

Of course, my dinnermate said, "Huh?" and the server recited the whole thing again while I wondered why the restaurant was upselling a so-so salad instead of just raising the entree price by 59 cents. The whole she-bang, without the sales pitch.

I welcome Oregon-based restaurants like McGrath's and Original Roadhouse Grill into the South Sound market. They're casual, affordable, family friendly vein of concept restaurants. They're different from each other (McGrath's: "Pacific Northwest fresh" seafood, burgers and steaks; Original Road House Grill: burgers, steaks, peanuts on the floor) but similar in that they both give customers a number of side-dish choices.

I'll admit I enjoy ordering Whoppers without pickles and lettuce (as Burger King used to say, "special orders don't upset us"), but I've been chewing on choices since I enjoyed half of my dinnermate's salmon at McGrath's last week (she enjoyed the rest, although we both thought the early-season asparagus was stalky and stringy). It's left me with a simmering question:

Is choice empowering or burdensome?

I dared my dinnermate to tell the waiter she'd give him 59 cents if he told the cook to make the decision about her side dishes for her. She ignored me. How do you feel?

There once was a newsroom colleague who liked to smell other people's food. Not in a get-a-yummy-whiff way, but in the way that she buried her snooty snout in co-workers' food and uttered pretentious clap-trap about communing with one's cuisine.

So I wasn't too annoyed when EJ peered over our cubicle wall and said, "Dude, whatever you're eating stinks."

It must have been the pickled radishes on the bahn mi sandwiches I'd brought back to the office. They smelled and tasted a touch funky, but within the limits of edibility and enjoyment.

Self-consciously, I stopped eating. I balled up the sandwich in a plastic bag, looked for a trash can in another part of the newsroom, and threw it away, along with the wrapped but uneaten sandwich that I might have enjoyed if my lunch hadn't encroached on my colleague's air space.

Which leads to a simmering question:

What is it about smells and food that turn us on and turn us off?