The Dirty Dish: Intimate Acts with Food & Wine

Recipe: Chocolate Fondue Brunch

2011-03-31T11:24:00.000-07:00

In GrubStreet NYC's post today on chef cribs - inspiration!:

"While The Wall Street Journal takes us into Max Brenner’s Manhattan townhouse, where he throws nonalcoholic breakfast parties capped off by chocolate fondue..."

Be still my heart, Mr. Brenner, I'm totally stealing that idea!...Except for the alcohol part. No need to make any pretense about virtue when there's a tub of molten chocolate on the table at my house. This orange-infused recipe sounds like a lovely contender for the job:

Bittersweet Chocolate-Orange Fondue

Bon Appétit | February 1997

1/3 cup whipping cream

1 1/2 teaspoons (packed) grated orange peel

8 ounces bittersweet (not unsweetened) or semisweet chocolate, finely chopped

3 tablespoons Grand Marnier or other orange liqueur

8 1-inch pieces pound cake

8 1-inch pieces angel food cake

8 fresh strawberries, hulled

2 kiwis, peeled, each cut into 4 rounds

1 small pear, cored, cut into 1-inch pieces

1 large banana, cut into 8 rounds

1 orange, peel and white pith removed, cut into sections

8 dried Calimyrna figs

8 dried apricot halves

Bring whipping cream and grated orange peel to simmer in heavy medium saucepan. Reduce heat to low. Add chopped chocolate and 1 tablespoon Grand Marnier; whisk until mixture is smooth. Remove fondue from heat and blend in remaining 2 tablespoons Grand Marnier.

Transfer fondue to fondue pot. Place over candle or canned heat burner. Serve with cake pieces and fruit for dipping.

Guess I'm a NoMi Girl

2011-03-30T12:52:00.001-07:00

Funny thing. A couple of weekends ago, we went to L20 to celebrate my husband's birthday, the second of our two annual Go-Big Dinner Events. The other is our anniversary in September, when we went to NoMi last.

At L20, we had the "luxury" tasting menu - how can that qualifier not make you snort quietly to yourself? - with the wine pairings. Looking back, I feel like something was missing. The food and wine were spectacular, and given my pescatarian status, about as perfect a match as I could dream up. But the space felt somehow blank (sorry Dirk Denison, I still adore you for this) and the service was...flat and technical. Maybe it was all the beige decor and grey suits.

Comparatively, I still remember the NoMi experience vividly and how our waiter was so adept at conducting our meal while we talked about food and wine throughout the night, I wanted him to sit down for dessert. He joked that he was morose that I wouldn't take any of his recommendations. He sent over the sommelier to chat about Charbono even though our bottle was far from luxury status by their standards. He gave us his card at the end and said he would love it if we asked for him on our next visit. In short, we had an interactive experience that was, um, several hundred dollars less than L20 and somehow much more gratifying.

I would love to tell you how the L20 night stacked up against our visit to Alinea, but we were with several of our wine industry friends that night. So I actually have no recollection of the service at all. Just a lot of amazing food and laughter.

Taste of Next

2011-03-29T13:30:00.000-07:00

As the opening of Next approaches on April 6th-ish (955 W. Fulton), the Achatz/Kokonas promotional machine is in full swing. Dish just published a sampling of items from the first menu. My fave is the lowly anchovy elevated to elegant status on a quail egg, done all soft a fab on the inside. Gorgeous as a Vosges truffle....not to mention personally relevant since "Aunt Chovy" is my mom's nickname to all of my cousins, and she's no slouch when it comes to presentation either.

Eating Paris 1906

2010-12-14T08:34:00.000-08:00

I just saw this short video about the menu development underway at Next, Grant Achatz's anticipated new restaurant. The concept is innovative in that the menu theme will dramatically change every few months, with Paris in 1906 being the first.

Watching them plate this dish reminds me of my most favorite cookbook ever - the posthumous publication of Toulouse-Lautrec's personal recipes, circa 1905, entitled The Art of Cuisine. Oh Monsieur Lautrec... I could spend hours talking about how he was a brilliantly gifted misfit in search of acceptance from the Parisian women celebrities he adored from afar, and eventually made icons during his short life. Almost better, he was a sparkling wit and a skilled hunter with deep family pockets that he used to support his true love of the kitchen. Like his art, this book is an endless joy that tells so much about the person who adored nothing more than throwing an over-the-top and totally out-of-hand-party for his circle of now-famous and infamous friends. You can find it at used book dealers through Amazon.

The Only Gift You Need

2010-12-10T12:56:00.001-08:00

This holiday, I'm all about ease. (That, and accepting the chaos, but that's another matter.) So rather than tax your already taxed yuletide attention span with a long list of potential foodie gifts, I'm going to give it to you straight.

Get all your foodie-fied friends the new cookbook published by the New York Times.

Why?

1. I'm hearing good things. Mostly from David Lebovitz, who thinks it's surprisingly great.

2. How often does the NYT publish a cookbook? Like, nevah. Hardly anyone has it yet, and its mere publication makes it a momentous event... Especially if the NYT doesn't exist in 5 years. Imagine the eBay value then!

3. With its significant heft, you can also use it to kill bugs, work your core, as a hotplate, or to press your own gravlax.

Review: Owen & Engine

2010-12-07T10:59:00.001-08:00

Can we hug? I'd been eyeing the renovation of this building across from the movie theatre for months, daring to hope for anything to break up the endless blight of fast food, empty car dealerships, and mechanics on Western. I thought it was a mirage Saturday night after our movie when I peeked inside the lovely wall of frosty French windows to see...tables set with sparkling glassware and linen napkins? A glimmering bar stacked four tiers high with premium alcohol? A late night menu...with a cheese plate? (Ok. I couldn't see the menu or the cheese. But I felt them like Yoda feels the presence of the Force.)

Me to husband: Do you wanna-

Husband: YES.

Inside, cozy heaven: candles twinkling in pubby darkness, servers in checky menswear outfits, the good vibes that come with excellent beer and wine circulating, an air of possibly authentic Britishness (although who cares on Western? I mean really), and a late night menu that reminds me of the Gage. Someone actually built a gastropub near Targhetto. And I love them.

The cheese included five stellar selections organized from mild to ballsy. They were accompanied by a pile of light savory crisps and rye bread, plus four relishes to smear it all together in dizzying combinations (honeycomb, vidalia onion, apple, and cranberry). My husband had the rarebit, which I always thought was related to rabbit. But then what do I know? It's what you eat when you don't catch any rabbit - i.e. good quality cheddar melted on rye bread with a few other goodies. Nice, cozy, simple food. Wallace and Grommet food.

Diverse wine list. Global selection of beers. Amazing cocktails. We're hooked.

Anthony Bourdain vs. Food Critics

2010-09-22T21:20:00.000-07:00

Jeff Ruby, the amusing Chicago magazine food critc, wrote a piece this month on why you should ignore Anthony Bourdain's advice and read food journalism for your restaurant recommendations rather than going to a site like Yelp. In a nutshell, Jeff tells us a) you can't trust Yelpers and b) they probably don't share your tastes anyway. I would add to the list that reading most of them is pure agony, whereas Jeff has sparkling wit and can spell "fork" correctly.

This made me think about how I make my restaurant decisions. Case and point, my wedding anniversary is coming up, and as new parents who've worn a path between our condo, offices and Target for four months, we've decided to go big. Not Alinea-big, but pretty dang big.

Problem is, I don't know where to go big at, because I've been in baby-love lala land for so long. Here's about how it breaks down these days:

1. Go to Urbanspoon online. Look at Talk of the Town list. Decide that this crappy economy is the reason that Alinea is the only expensive restaurant on it.

2. Go to Menupages online. Search for $$$$ restaurants that look intriguing. Click on descriptions of the newer ones. Link over to a couple of the restaurant websites to look at pretty pictures of dining rooms. Wonder if I have anything to wear. Decide new peeptoes may be in order.

3. Go to Open Table. See which of those places have bookings open. None do. Decide that this crappy economy is the reason that there aren't more options. Launch a new search for expensive restaurants that do have openings. Decide to book NoMi as a backup plan.

4. Go to Zagat online. Troll through reviews. Did I miss anything?...No. Get tired. Decide NoMi will be lovely. Go to bed, promising myself to read up on restaurants again at some point...by reading Helen Rosner at the Menupages blog, because the girl's got skills.

So Jeff, I have a recommendation for you. Develop a Jeff Ruby app for the iPhone. Charge $1.99 a pop. Now your writing is even more relevant and you don't need to rely on Chicago mag's plastic surgery ad revenue to keep you in foie gras.

You're welcome. xo

Paramount Room on Groupon

2010-09-22T06:51:00.000-07:00

Hustle! Ok, so it's only $15. But the Paramount Room is dark, velvety, and delicious, with a stellar food and wine menu. And despite the name, it's odd location and tiny, underground weirdness make it feel like a secret.

It's Official, Obvs.

2010-09-21T20:07:00.000-07:00

I'm back to the blog, as a new mommy. Life is totally different (more on that later). But the stir of fall in the air has me all giddy for two of my most favorite things: fall food + wine pairings, and fashion. Maybe that's three things? Whatever.

It's the most wonderful time of the year. And it's good to be back.

Perfect Middle Eastern Lentil Stew

2010-09-21T10:35:00.000-07:00

This recipe for a cozy fall lentil stew from Epicurious is so ideal, I can't find anything to change for once. Nothing. It's easy breezy to pull together on a weeknight, it's totally healthy, and its earthy flavors brightened up with lemon and mint pack much more of a punch than I expected. It's even ultra-healthy and the ingredients are dirt cheap.

Beat that.

Ok - just thought of something. Double or quadruple this puppy to have it on hand for a few meals. Now you just saved yourself two hours in the kitchen for the week.

2 tablespoons olive oil
2 large garlic cloves, chopped
3 cups canned vegetable broth
1 cup lentils, rinsed, picked over
8 ounces red-skinned potatoes, cut into 1/2-inch pieces

1 lemon
6 ounces torn fresh spinach leaves (about 8 cups)
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1/4 cup chopped fresh mint

Crumbled feta cheese

Heat olive oil in heavy large saucepan over medium heat. Add garlic and stir 30 seconds. Add vegetable broth and lentils; bring to boil. Reduce heat, cover and simmer 10 minutes. Add potatoes; cook uncovered until potatoes and lentils are tender, stirring occasionally, about 15 minutes.

Meanwhile, grate 1/2 teaspoon peel from lemon; squeeze enough juice from lemon to measure 2 tablespoons. Add lemon peel, lemon juice, spinach and cayenne to stew. Cover and simmer stew until spinach wilts and is cooked through, about 2 minutes. Mix in mint. Season to taste with salt and pepper. (Can be prepared 1 day ahead. Cover and refrigerate. Rewarm over low heat before serving.)

Spoon stew into large soup bowls. Sprinkle feta cheese over, if desired.

Nigella Lawson Restaurant/Food Pick

2010-02-10T08:02:00.001-08:00

Nigella Lawson Restaurant/Food Pick
...for Valentine's Day.

Posted using ShareThis

My New Crush

2009-12-15T11:11:00.000-08:00

I'm officially crushing on Chef Novelli from Bravo's reality show Chef Academy, which is one of the only food shows that makes me want to cook even more - ok...just as much as - I want to eat what I'm watching. He's a master with food. He makes basic things extraordinary. And he's so French, it kills me. Sweet Jesus. Men can surf porn online - women have this.

It also doesn't hurt that Novelli's students are on a much more relatable level than the technical stars of Top Chef. Their job is to master the essentials he's teaching them, not create on their own.

Case in point on making the simple extraordinary, this cooking demo on Novelli's pea and mint soup:

TA-DAaaa!: Foodie Gift Roundup

2009-12-08T10:18:00.000-08:00

Buyin' It

1. Wine Country Gift Baskets: I've been an annual devotee for a few years now. Their baskets are filled with high quality sweets and savories, they ship super-fast, and the wine selection is goes beyond the usual mass-market suspects. Some of their bestsellers even ship for free. I gave my aunt their Classic basket last Christmas. She called me 10 days later to say that it had become the highlight of her kids' and husband's day to decide what to fish out of it for a snack each evening. Perfect for foodies, wine lovers, and snackers.

2. Stonewall Kitchens: My gram sent me a set of amazing jams and infused olive oils from here last week, and the idea is so good, I'm stealing it for my food-centric tribe. They have a huge array of gifts at all price points, including TONS of delish sauces and relishes that your dear ones can pop open and apply to something, or use to zazz up an actual recipe. Great for peeps who love eating, but aren't necessarily trolling the Atlantic Food Channel every day.

3. Whole Foods Baskets: I eyed some really impressive ones at the Lincoln Park store last night. They've got stacks pre-made, but if you have special needs, you can visit the holiday order table up front and they'll assemble one for you. Perfect for food snobs or your vegan friends who wear hemp jumpers.

4. Just Grapes on Washington Ave.: Their wine selection is focused (they're picky about what they stock), special (boutique producers you won't find at Binny's) and moderately-priced. You can order online, and they deliver or ship anywhere. Perfect for wine lovers who know their schtuff.

Makin' It

1. Nigella's Rocky Road Crunch Bars: I'm making these to fill goodie boxes for the neighbors, mostly as an apology for the dog throwing his bouncy toy down our front stairs at 7:00 every Saturday morning. 'Gella's philosophy is to keep it easy, especially for the holidays. Word, girl.

2. Cherries Simmered in Red Wine: These babies are red, festive, sweet, easy, and versatile as all get out. Your recipient can use them on ice cream, pound cake, with creme fraiche, or in a trifle. Or they can just fork them out of the jar like I do. Did I mention they keep forever?

3. Duo of Sugars: If actually cooking or baking makes you want to lie down, how about tossing together some fancy sugar and putting a bow on it? Whole Foods has ideas on their web site, including these. If you can locate dried edible lavender and vanilla bean pods, you too can impress.

Two other morsels of advice: No one beats the Container Store for all manner of festive little receptacles for your food gifts. And avoid Martha's site this season, as it requires a PhD in Crafts...unless it's for decorating your mantel or tablescaping (she completely rocks the casbah at those).

So... Whad'ya Eat?!

2009-12-01T10:39:00.000-08:00

The Obama Foodorama blog posted the White House's Thanksgiving menu below, which is plenty generous on the Southern-style sides - but Holy Pie, Batman! That's six kinds of pie! Imagine all the leftovers THEY'RE having.

Turkey
Honey Baked Ham

Cornbread Stuffing
Oyster Stuffing

Greens
Macaroni and Cheese
Sweet Potatoes
Mashed Potatoes
Green Bean Casserole

Pumpkin Pie
Banana Cream Pie
Apple Pie
Sweet Potato Pie
Huckleberry Pie
Cherry Pie

Thanksgiving at our house was traditional this year. My sis and I have done some New Mexican themed holiday dinners in the past, from which I've snuck in a dish or two for Thanksgiving. And I'm famous for conjuring up a risotto for any occasion. But since it was just my husband's family visiting this year, I decided to keep the green chile and pasta products mostly out of it.

Everything with an asterisk came from Cooking Fools, which meant I spent four hours cooking, rather than the typical 8-10.

Turkey*
Gravy with Fresh Herbs*

Mushroom and Parmesan Bread-Pudding Style Stuffing
Mashed Maple Sweet Potatoes with Candied Walnuts* (the breakout hit of the show, I think)
Roasted Root Veggies with Garlic and Thyme *

Crushed Cranberry Sauce
Walnut, Orange and Red Onion Salad
Rosemary Ciabatta Rolls

Martha's Pumpkin Cake with Brown Butter Icing

2007 Ehlers Estate Pinot Noir

In preparation, I finally bought all the things from Crate and Barrel and CHEF's that I didn't know to register for when we got married three years ago...Like an army of serving utensils and white ware bowls, a table cloth in a shade of any-season-friendly green, a 12-quart stock pot, and generous latte mugs for guests to endlessly fill with hot tea to warm themselves.

I flaked on the extra candles for the mantel and kept the table almost Quaker in terms of embellishment, but the big fire in the fireplace was all the atmosphere we needed.

All in all, a success. More than anything, I'm learning that successful entertaining means impressing people with as little work as possible so they can enjoy my company as much as the food.

Review: Belly Shack

2009-11-10T08:35:00.000-08:00

Kudos to Bill Kim for getting this place opened with lightening speed. The laid back attitude and quick service are just exactly what the neighborhood likes, and while I'm really happy they're here, it isn't amazing yet. Innovative and interesting, definitely. But not amazing. We've just been once so far, early on an already-busy Saturday night. We sat at the big communal table in the middle of the space to compare notes with other patrons, and the consensus was surprisingly consistent: good and interesting, but not great.

My boricua sandwich got all of its flavor from a great sauce served on the side, rather from the plantains (which I couldn't taste), marinated tofu (totally blank soy flavor), or rice. In fact, the rice on the sandwich wasn't successful at all - there's a reason rice sandwiches are rare - it tastes too starchy with the bread and falls out. My husband's lemongrass chicken sandwich was okay, but again, not all that flavorful.

Our generous neighbors offered us wine from their BYOB bottles, something the entire restaurant seemed to be loving too. I passed in favor of dessert - a decent mint soft serve ice cream with chocolate brownie chunks. I had higher hopes for my husband's Vietnamese cinnamon caramel version, but the cinnamon was just barely detectable.

Come to Mama

2009-11-05T14:28:00.000-08:00

So, I'm pregnant. Thirteen weeks to be exact, which brings me to the glorious, grateful close of my puke-y first trimester. I'll tell you, nothing else I can think of can screw with your appetite so drastically for so long. Some new lessons I've learned on life as a fertile woman:

1. Life without wine really blows. I took an itsy sip of the hubbles' prosecco about a month back and nearly started bawling in my stupid club soda it was so good. Incidentally, my Italian-American mother drank a small glass of wine at Sunday dinners when she was pregnant with me, and I was born a perfectly healthy mostacholi, as she still relishes recalling. Those days are long gone, mi amici. Try this in America now, and well-intentioned people will accost your person for being a brazenly psychotic baby-killer... including my husband.

2. Nausea is straight from hell. The cruel joke is that it's at its absolute worst when you're at your hungriest. It's God's official way of getting back at me for sass-talking to my mother.

3. Sneak attack food aversions are real. I can't pass within 20 feet of a sushi restaurant without shuddering. Pre-pregs, I could eat it daily. My other forms of kryptonite have been any form of raw fish, coffee, peanut butter, meat smells, sometimes chocolate and God help me, my usual endorphin-source of choice, truffle oil.

4. Random and sudden hunger pangs - also real. My husband knows I'm having one when all of a sudden I'm laying on the car horn in the driveway 60 seconds after announcing it's time to mobilize for Chipotle. How LONG does it take him to find pants anyway?

5. Heelllooo, Chipotle.... and Potbelly's. I'm not proud of it, but these are the things I crave when I go out to eat lately. I'll also settle for pretty much any form of pasta, risotto, mac and cheese, or other comfort food. And Jimmy John's? Their scrappy little delivery guys can seriously have a sandwich in your paws (with that guac spread) less than 12 minutes from right now. Imagine the possibilities.

6. Waiters at good restaurants get bitchy when I pass on the alcohol. It ranges from mild puzzlement to openly expressed disapproval. I'm not showing yet, so they don't know what's up, especially since I always urge my husband to order the martini or the split of pinot for himself. I've been thinking maybe I should hand out a pre-printed card with: "In first trimester. Back the f*** off."

7. The joy of a fresh fruit or veggie smoothie never tasted so good. Ahhh....sweet, sweet cool, creamy deliciousness, I love you.

8. Yep, I can justify almost anything I do want to eat. Fish and chips? Giddy up. Mayo on the veggie sub? So much better. Pancakes at brunch? Sha - yes. Four bananas in succession? Try to stop me. With so much out there making me cringe, I'm not about to pass up something that's screaming my name.

9. I will go code blue for the bread basket. Now that I'm in my hormone-induced irritability phase, waiters need to be forewarned that if the bread doesn't hit the table within two minutes of seating, there could be some serious hell to pay. I barely used to even touch the stuff. Now I'm homicidal for it when I show up at a restaurant hungry. And guess what the odds of that are?

10. Fake drinking is an art. My options were to a) suspiciously avoid my horde of wine-chugging friends for three entire months or b) enlist the help of one trustworthy soul to help me fake them out at dinner. How? You and your partner in crime order the same drinks and sit next to each other. You pretend to drink, but swap glasses after a little bit when no one's looking. Your friend, the trooper, will need to consume twice the amount they order. And, yes, you'll need to buy her a really nice Christmas gift to apologize for that hangover.

Sleep in on Thanksgiving

2009-10-16T07:22:00.000-07:00

Last Thanksgiving I was a crazy woman. Though it's my all-time favorite meal, I was working so many hours, I barely had time to floss much less cook two days for a feast. I pretty much told the Hubbles to plan for a quiet night at home with a burrito. But then the fine geniuses over at Cooking Fools sent me an email I didn't expect: they do pre-ordered Thanksgiving dinners. I just had to call it in ahead, pick it up the night before, and warm it up the day of.

So we invited over some cousins, and I ordered the turkey, sweet potatoes, spinach gratin, bread, and gravy. I made my own favorite stuffing, salad, cranberry sauce and dessert in about two hours, just to keep it feeling homey and yummy. Added wine, and - all done. So easy. Totally, totally delish.

This year's Thanksgiving is seeing a snowball effect. We're already at five people and could go up to seven. I have a far more zen life now....but since I'm spoiled, I emailed Cooking Fools yesterday anyway to ask whether I'd be receiving that magical email again. Nick Faitage, their executive chef/owner assures me that I will. They just haven't worked out all the menu details yet.

Oak Treet

2009-10-02T14:00:00.000-07:00

After receiving some sad, sad news about a good friend today (not Mayor Daley or the Olympics...but that didn't help either)... I was in a blue, blue funk this afternoon. Add to that the 50 degree high, blowing wind, and drizzle, and I just needed to get the hell out for some distraction.

So I grabbed a cab and headed to Bloomingdale's, where I knew warm, shiny things would await. Mostly I was just starving to death, so I went straight up to the top floor of 900 N. Michigan and got myself a seat at the Oak Tree. Why do I forget about this place? It's so civilized and lover-ly there. My view of the side of the Hancock Tower and down Michigan Ave. instantly made me remember why I love living here, even in the rain. And then the food.

A pot of hot Orange Dulce tea. A cup of Tuscan Veggie soup. And a gooey, melted cheddar, fig preserve, caramelized onion, and Roquefort cheese sandwich.

Sigh. All better.

The Purist's Peach Pie

2009-09-10T14:31:00.000-07:00

We recently got back from relaxing at a cottage in Saugatuck, Michigan (Mayberry meets gay rivera) with my family for about a week, and it was blissful as always. Cape Cod cottage? Check. Bike rides to the beach? Check. A healthy squirrel population for the dog to chase? Definitely check.

Add to that our collective excitement to pick something growing off a real tree at one of the U-PICK farms nearby. My mom nixed the idea of Michigan's famous blueberries..."sounds hard, doesn't it?" Which was a damn good thing since the season had just passed. But peaches! Oh, the peaches were beginning to drag their tree branches down to the ground, they were so fully massive and lovely. So six of us accepted what we considered small-ish bags from a farmer and galloped into the early-bloomer Blazing Star rows of his orchard.

Ten minutes later my mother emerged with 30 lbs. of fruit overflowing from two heaving bags. The rest of us plopped our bags onto the scale with hers and snorted in laughter at the digital number that popped up: 69 lbs. Of peaches, people. It's not like you can go put any back. So back to the cottage we went, debating... Pie? Cobbler? Smoothies? My aunt, a former chef, has the most food cred in the family, not to mention actual leadership skills, so she made a sound decision:

We're making pie. And we're keeping it simple.

Back at the cottage, she and my mother (I was on vacation, remember?) assembled eight pies. The ingredients were:

4-5 gigantic peaches, sliced

1/4 cup brown sugar

sprinkle Fruit Fresh

2 pie crusts

egg whites

So, if I need to tell you...We tossed the sliced peaches with the sugar and Fruit Fresh. Then we plopped the mixture into a crust, topped it with the second crust, and brushed that with egg whites before baking or freezing each one.

The point isn't that this is complicated or innovative. The point is that sometimes you simply don't need to mess with the perfection of something like gorgeous freshly picked peaches. Especially when you're on a summer vacation and should really be taking a nap someplace nice, like under a tree.

We ate two of the pies while there - one for breakfast - and the rest are in my freezer, awaiting a chilly fall night or typically sub-artic Chicago winter weekend.

The rest of the peaches we ate fresh or bagged up as gifts for our neighbors, who are still sending me emails about their amazing cobblers.

Swedish Snacks Gone Wild

2009-08-23T08:30:00.000-07:00

File this under "imaginative uses for Swedish crispbread." Wonder what they could do with those equally ubiquitous tubes of caviar...

Sweden got talent - Naked guys dancing!- Watch more Videos at Vodpod.

NYC Post Script: The Bar is Waiting

2009-08-23T07:25:00.001-07:00

During last year's trip to NYC, I was surprised that several restaurants generously offered a tasting portion of wines sold by the glass before pouring the full serving, a practice that quickly caught on in Chicago. That didn't happen once on our trip this past weekend, which seems a logical enough cost-cutting measure in tougher economic times.

A more revenue-generating trend seems to have replaced the freebie tasting -seating diners with the wine and cocktails menu for a good 15 minutes before delivering the food menu. This happened at two of the higher end restaurants we visited, and was obviously deliberate as I observed the same thing at nearby tables. For drinkers who aren't in a hurry (um, that would be us), it works out well for us and the house. We thoroughly mulled over the libations lists and ordered a round before getting distracted by the food options. I have to think this might drive many impatient New Yorkers insane though.

Wine Makers Update

2009-08-20T07:43:00.000-07:00

Don Sritong has returned from California a survivor. He made it through the first round of eliminations as a contestant on PBS' the Wine Makers last weekend. He said his back and knees are killing him, so I'm guessing there was some toiling in the vineyard. He'll be on his way to Rhone soon for the rest of taping. Thankfully, we have the awesome Maggie to hold down the fort at Just Grapes while he's gone.

His audition video for the show is here:

NYC - Day 3

2009-08-18T13:55:00.001-07:00

Morris-Jumel Mansion (Washington Heights) - George Washington slept here while it was his headquarters in the fall and winter of 1776. He returned 14 years later as president for a dinner party with his cabinet. In attendance were future presidents Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, and John Quincy Adams, as well as Alexander Hamilton (who would later be killed by the man of the house - Aaron Burr in our country's most famous duel). I took a pic of the dining room where the victuals went down. And it gave me shivers.

Pierre Hotel (2 E 61st St) - Just for high tea. I've had high tea in Chicago at the Peninsula, Burnham Hotel, and the Drake. This was better. This was three generous, gorgeous tiers of dainty tea sandwich and petit four heaven. Uniformly great food and service in a setting that transports you back to the golden age of 1920s New York. The tea itself was quite nice too. I didn't want it to ever end.

But end it did.

Next time we go: That dinner at Red Cat, a guided tour of the UN, and the second floor of Zabar's for cookware.

NYC - Day 2

2009-08-18T13:54:00.000-07:00

Balthazar (80 Spring St) - Large French bistro with a majorly scene-y brunch scene. My scrambled eggs in puff pastry were okay. Pretty, but otherwise nothing spectacular. I'd give the place another shot, but I'm not eager to go back. (A brunch at Bistro Zinc in Chicago is much better.)

Lower East Side Tenement Museum - Don't go on the hottest day of the year, but do go. It gives you new respect for the phrase "turn-of-century immigrant experience," by visiting actual tenement apartments reconstructed to look as they did 100 years ago. Book ahead!

Lolita (266 Broome St) - You know those simple, real, low-key hoodie bars you instantly love? This is one of those. It's right around the corner from the tenement and saved us from passing out in the heat. A nice little list of refreshing summer cocktails for $8.

WD-50 (50 Clinton St) - Just for the famous five-course dessert tasting - we sat at 6:00 pm because a) we're hardcore and b) why not? (As I texted Dar, who proposed the idea the day before, "Dinner later can just be sandwich.") All five courses were excellent. Two were transcendent. Solid dessert wine pairings that offered a few surprises, like a blend from Rhodes, Greece. The staff was surprisingly laid back and fun to chat with.

High Line - This is the new elevated rail line downtown that's been turned into a landscaped public space. I've never seen New Yorkers so chilled out and happy. Chicago will get it's own version sometime in the future on the Bloomingdale Trail, which I happen to live over.

Red Cat - Dinner? Not a sandwich. But we did go light by each ordering the special scallop appetizer instead of an entree, and each of us tried it paired with a different white wine. The wine list here is big and stellar. The place is cute as a button, but all glowy and elegant at the same time - it's style meets substance. The scallops were giant and divine - seared simply over a bed of farm-fresh sauteed veggies. It's at the top of my list to go back for dinner next time. Absolutely loved it.

New York City - Day 1

2009-08-18T12:38:00.000-07:00

I'm not surprised to be saying that my trip to NYC this past weekend turned into food tour of NYC. My husband and I went to see my friend Dar, the one who wrote in about stalking the bouchee at La Maison du Chocolat in Manhattan a few months back. And...well...I guess you can see where this is going.

Day 1 - We arrived in the a.m., and with Dar working all day, I just decided to wing it. Temperature around 90 degrees, with humidity above 80%.

Dean & Deluca (Rockefeller) - Late morning caffeination stop. Pricey, but above average.

Tesucher (Rockefeller) - Nabbed a box of four Champagne truffles for later, a tradition my husband started a few years ago. Hoped they wouldn't melt.

Frick Collection (1 E 70th St) - Vermeer, Goya, Rembrandt, Holbein. You can't do better than this for Old Master nirvana.

Le Charlot (19 E 69th St) - I stumbled across this French bistro near the Frick in a pair of painfully adorable peep-toes, famished and hoping it wasn't a blister-induced mirage. We lingered two hours over lunch, smiling at the blasting air conditioning, the abrupt French waiter, and the sublime food. The tuna nicoise was way above average; the giant tiger shrimp was fantastic. We ordered a bottle of rose from Provence. The tart tatin? The best I've ever had. Yes, it's supposed to be small. Yes, it's supposed to be brusque. Order what they tell you to and eat it, Yankee.

Siesta at hotel - with E!'s Top 40 Celebrity Scandals. I still think Eliot Spitzer trumps Bill Clinton for sheer surprise value...

Esca (402 W 42nd St) - All southern Italian seafood, all the time. Chef Dave Pasternack is said to be a consummate fisherman. I pictured him back in the kitchen all salty, gilling a giant carp. By the looks of the menu, that's pretty much what he was doing. There are pages of appetizer and crudo options, followed by long lists of seafood pastas and entrees. The cocktails were excellent, as was the service, but the food fell a little shy of my high expectations.

Followed by a long, warm, nighttime walk back to our hotel in Midtown.

Spring Restaurant on GroupOn Today

2009-08-13T07:41:00.000-07:00

Giddyup! Only 14 hours left to get $75 worth of Shawn McClain's amazing seafood fare for $35 on Groupon. Over 800 people have already bought, so the deal is on. Only strings: it expires on February 13th of 2010 and can't be used for New Year's Eve.

Roundup: Graham Elliot, Pig Cheese, and Local Rock Star

2009-08-11T21:19:00.000-07:00

1. OMG. Graham Elliot's truffle-Parmesan popcorn deliciousness at Lolla absolutely rocked. Hugely. There was no line at the booth, but that's probably just because they'd already sold out of the lobster corndog. Or perhaps it was because I was one of the few there who, due to my seasoned years, realized that truffle oil trumps drugs and alcohol any day.

Due to said popcorn consumption, my post-concession stand conversation went something like this for a while:

The Hubbles: What's happening over at Perry's again?

Me: Mmmmm....merph-um-wahumf. (crunch crunch crunch)

The Hubbles: Wow, hon. I really wish we could find you a napkin.

Me: Yumph. (crunch crunch)

And thank you Helen at GrubStreet for once again demonstrating that you have my back on these deeply weighty matters.

2. I've been around Greece a bit, and the feta cheese is pretty spectacular. But Whole Foods' store brand (the one with the plain black goat sticker on the front) makes me swoon more than any I can remember eating in Hellas. Last night I was savoring it, and two things occurred to me:

a) Goats aren't chubby, yet their milk turns out lovely cheese.

b) Pigs are extremely chubby, and yet they don't join their barnyard brethren in producing dairy products. So why no pig cheese?

Naturally someone has already explored this on the Interweb. Answer: "Pork cheese" is produced in Mexico and Hungary, and probably other places, but it doesn't taste similar to cow, sheep or goat cheese because the fatty acids in it differ from those animals' milk.

We totally need a Food Mythbusters for this type of thing.

c) Hey, didja see the news down below about Don? Chicago's got one more culinary reality TV rock star.

Go, Don, GO!!!

2009-08-11T18:48:00.000-07:00

Oh, the excitement! My good friend Don Sritong, the mind behind Just Grapes on Washington, found out yesterday that he's made the cut for Season 2 of PBS' reality show The Wine Makers! Contestants of the show will fly to the Rhone valley this September to compete for the honor of creating and launching their own wine brand nationwide (presumably stateside rather than in the French market). Season 1 airs this fall.

Don is on his way to California this weekend to start filming the first round of challenges and cuts. As the only person I know who's more competitive than my husband, my money says that he'll show up with all guns blazing. And a killer wardrobe.

Go, Don, go!!!

Lolla Needs Food for Grownups

2009-08-07T07:36:00.000-07:00

Lollapalooza descends on Grant Park and my life for the fifth year this weekend, bringing with it a litany of scorchingly great music and the summer weather to match. I realize that I'm at the upper end of the age demographic and all, but I can't help but wonder every time why the food and eating areas are so damned awful. I mean they uniformly bloooooooooow. It's greasy fried food on sticks, Bud Lite, and overflowing trash cans for miles. And because of the size of this thing, it's not like you can pop in and out for a decent bite. It's like the Hotel California that way, without the pink Champagne.

What's funny is that Lolla's otherwise exhaustive website doesn't even mention food anywhere. On the event maps, the very long concession areas are labeled as "Bars/Beverage." I can learn how to Rock, Recycle, and Win a Honda, but there's no way to see which vendors might be on board. The only bright spot is that Whole Foods is a partner this year. Whole Foodies could definitely deliver me from eating the same bad falafel pita sandwich for three days. I hope. I pray. But I will pack Clif bars.

Grab Your Mallets and Your Mouse(s)

2009-08-05T10:49:00.000-07:00

I'm stoked about Julie & Julia opening this Friday. Its timing conflict with Lollapalooza means striking a hard bargain with my husband to wedge a viewing in somewhere between Andrew Bird and Jane's Addiction over a sweaty marathon music weekend. But so be it. Madame Streep as Julia Child is simply not to be missed, and I'm absolutely giddy to have a foodie movie to sink my chops into since Ratatouille. (You can only get so much culinary mileage out of animated vermin, even if it comes from the genius pen of Pixar.)

Many of my compatriot bloggers are not however so enthused about Julie Powell's turn of fortune in all this, and we have what's left of the tattered newspaper world to tell us so. I don't mind dissent in the ranks. In fact, among bloggers I think you have to presume a certain constant dull roar of it. Snark is our favorite candy.

It got me thinking though. Julie & Julia is a two-part story that offers up two heroines. Both are brash, fearless upstarts entering the culinary world during entirely different eras and through entirely different means. How each enters the fray is a fascinating look at how much life and popular culture have changed, but both women have the moxie to search their foodie souls in full public view. And at a minimum, isn't Powell's version of that moxie exactly what all food bloggers share? I hope so.

Proof the Coffee Gods Love Us

2009-08-03T19:10:00.000-07:00

I'm still giddy from stumbling into the sweetest little Italian coffee chain ever this weekend in the newly risen and architecturally droolworthy Lakeshore East neighborhood: Caffe RoM - pronounced with a long accent over the "o." Er, like the city.

Imagine a shiny, spanking new, happy place where the menu is straight out of Milan and the design sensibility is one part Vespa, one part Jetsons. SI! SI! SI! Our service was excellent and the coffee had that heavenly smooth, well-rounded flavor that the Italiani do to perfection. Even better, it's a Chicago venture with three locations in the Loop already - the other two are in the Hyatt Center and in the Prudential Building. Am a huge fan. Am cursing recent job decision to ditch the Loop. But, ever the optimist, I took one of their rewards cards anyway.

Blackberry and Orange French Toast Bread Pudding

2009-08-01T20:17:00.000-07:00

My 16- and 17-year old nieces flew in from New Mexico for their annual summer visit this week, and having them over is a great excuse to do things like sleep in until 9:00, watch chick flicks, and eat ice cream every day. This morning, they asked for french toast, which I love too, but never enjoy making. Since I've been cleaning up the kitchen several times a day while they're here, I decided to hunt down a baked variation that would be quick and easy to throw together.

I found this strata recipe on Epicurious that I adapted, using blackberries and orange instead of raspberries and lemon, and making the custard a little richer. They were impressed with how beautiful it looked and absoltuely loved it's delicious warming sweetness, and I was amazed how much better I like it than typical french toast.

1/2 cup maple syrup
3/4 loaf of whole grain bread with crust
1 1/2 pints fresh blackberries
6 large eggs
2 cups milk
1 cup half & half
1 teaspoon grated orange zest
1/4 teaspoon salt

Heat the oven to 350 degrees, with the rack positioned at the center. Lightly butter a 9 x 13 in. baking dish. Pour the maple syrup into the bottom of the dish - don't worry about evenly coating the surface. Cut the bread up into large cubes and scatter around the bottom with the blackberries.

In a large bowl, whisk together the eggs, milk, half & half, zest, and salt. Pour the custard over the cubes of bread and pop the baking dish into the oven. It'll need to bake 45 to 50 minutes. Look for a nice, puffy golden brown surface with no wet spots in the center. Let cool 5 minutes before dusting with powdered sugar and serving with more drizzled maple syrup on top.

WTH, I Have Readers?

2009-07-24T12:36:00.001-07:00

I figured the blogosphere had ditched me a few weeks back when I took a little time out to stop and smell the peonies. Imagine my shock to see my ticker spike with that last post. Hi foodies! I missed you! Even the angry ones! I'm sure my new employer will be thrilled that I've rediscovered my love for monitoring food and wine news all day.

I've left the Loop for a great new organization in the Old Town/Gold Coast area, where I've begun to spoil myself daily with tranquil lunches in the park and in sidewalk cafes. Wells Street is just a hop away, beckoning with smells emanating from the Spice House, Topo Gigio, Bistro Margot, and about a dozen others. Not to mention all the potted herbs sitting outside of the Old Town Garden shop.

Yes, heaven.

On top of all that, the Venetian Wine Cruise is finally here! Just Grapes changed the time to start later in the afternoon, at 4:00 pm. Jump aboard if sipping a trio of sparkling roses on the lake sounds, oh, kind of okay for a Saturday afternoon diversion.

Shaking a Fist at Urban Belly's Bill Kim

2009-07-24T07:22:00.000-07:00

Bill, I don't know you, but I'd like to have a chat. I've been on food blogging hiatus for a few weeks while I transition out of a crazy job, exorcise the jumbo-sized stress I've accumulated while there, and get settled into a new workplace. I'm not exactly in a foodie headspace at the moment. But when I read that you bought out Vella to open another Urban Belly on Western, one burning question jumped to mind that I have to ask.

Do you have something against free market capitalism, Bill? Have you BEEN to the rest of Western Ave in that neighborhood? Did you maybe notice that there are like 12 zillion empty storefronts right NEXT to Vella where you could set up shop and compete with our talented friends there? Do you know how happy two great places would make us, Bill?

Ok, that's more than one question. And maybe the Vella babes were dying to get out. I don't know the whole story. All I know is, no more Everything but Meat Pizza with the caramelized onion smeared a quarter-inch thick on that perfect crust. No more scrambled eggs with sweet potato hash. Bloody hell, Bill! It's true, the place is a bone-rattling noise box. And there was that one time the delivery guy dropped our pizza, only to bring us a second one half an hour later with only two ingredients on it. But we worked all that out. Vella is a gem - most importantly our neighborhood's only gem of it's kind - where you can drop in for a quick, unique, delicious meal served by happy people. We do not need to swap it out for something else. We need options, Bill. Options.

It's one of the hardest parts about living in a big city.... getting emotionally attached to a hoodie joint. I mean, I'm still scarred from the loss of Filter's veggie reuben. Excuse me. I need to go find some Kleenex.

Tonight! Home Chef-fery Class for Like, Peanuts

2009-06-25T08:16:00.000-07:00

We're going to the home chef class tonight at 6:00 p.m. that Just Grapes is co-presenting with Soigne Culinary Artistry at the Calphalon Center. Tom McGuinty is going to dazzle us with a cooking demo and new ideas for food and wine pairings that will up our dinner party hosting game. Because frankly, it is a competition.

Oh, and the class fee is only $25. How great is that?

PS - soigne is pronounced (swan yay) and means stylish, elegant, and well-crafted. Now you know.

Hot Love in Roscoe Village

2009-06-25T08:01:00.000-07:00

The following is an email I sent to my friend - let's call him Rocky - yesterday after he asked me for restaurant suggestions around Roscoe Village. Besides location, his main criteria was that it "not be too over the top." Here's my answer:

Have a date you're trying to underwhelm? Ah, you romantic bastard.

Hmm...Roscoe Village.

Sola - I have some very picky friends who are in love with this place (www.sola-restaurant.com)

Kaze Sushi - honestly my favorite sushi place ever, we just never get over there (www.kazesushi.com)

Chalkboard - I hear good things - upscale comfort food

A little further away...

Lula Cafe - holy schmoly I love this place. It's kind of got a quirky casual urban hipster atmosphere and the food is freaking KILLER. Love. Gets utterly packed. Def make reservations (www.lulacafe.com).

Happy mating dance.

E.

Speak, Gastronomy

2009-06-08T12:17:00.000-07:00

Nabokov gave us Speak, Memory. Hemingway, his Movable Feast. Fisher, her Postcards from the Edge. And Grant Achatz is working on his memoirs, Life, on the Line - at 35. Maybe I'm naively old school about this, but as a fellow Gen X'er, it seems way too early for a career retrospective. Even for the most accomplished among us and even for someone who's had to wrestle with mortality so young. I say save it for Oprah, and then get back to work on the actual line.

Venetian Night as Bacchus Intended

2009-06-07T19:58:00.000-07:00

Quick: what do you think when I say "Venetian Night"?

Massive crowds on the lakefront. Sticky weather. Mayor Daley's obsession with replicating European civic delights in the City of Broad Shoulders... All to see a bunch of lucky ducks in

Polo shirts sailing by on 35 lit up vessels from the Yachting Club, as they salute their cocktails to the masses and say, "Cheers, suckers."

Right.

But this year, no sir, skipper. Rather than elbowing my way to a patch of grass near the harbor, I'm planning ahead. Actually, Just Grapes did it for me, because they've chartered a boat for a Venetian Night Wine Cruise on July 25th. From 2:00 to 5:00 pm I'll be on the boat working on my tan, with a range of lovely summer wines to taste, great food, and a wine guide. It's $85 all-inclusive, and it's genius. Absolutely can't wait to go.

Terzo @ 20 Days

2009-06-06T13:21:00.001-07:00

I'm not quite ready to post any reviews of Terzo Piano yet, having eaten there just twice in its first 20 days of business. We went for dinner with a pair of great friends on Thursday evening though, and here's a quickie recap:

Bubbles: There's no Prosecco on the menu. Pour que?

Smelts: I talked the table into ordering these with a wistful story about my Italian grandfather. They were just ok. Fried perfectly, all lightness and crisp. But not a lot of flavor. The fried lemon slices that accompanied them however are my new favorite weird thing to eat.

Flatbread: The vegetarian flatbread with asparagus, mint and fresh mozzarella? Killer good with a flawless crust. The mint is just such a nice surprise.

Crab sandwich: I ordered this new item on the menu sans bacon. It was solid, but I thought the unbelievably adorable housemade buns overwhelmed the delicate flavor of the crab a little. (Phil Foss at Lockwood knows how to get this balance right. I'm drooling thinking about his salmon sandwich....)

Sesame crusted whitefish: This was the most improved dish I tried since the opening. They've perfected the interplay of textures, and the flavor of the fish was excellent. Nicely done.

Desserts: They were amazing the first week, and they didn't disappoint this time either. The dynamic among the four of us at the table went something like: Sample, swoon. Sample, swoon. Sample, sip, swoon.

Service: Getting better. There was only one long pause in service this time around. I'm sure the lack of work stress and presence of friends with two bottles of wine helped too.

Equipment Detox: Ditching Bad Plastic

2009-06-03T19:32:00.000-07:00

We are a nation buried in plastic. So you can imagine the sinking feeling I got when I read up on the toxicity of the stuff, especially considering how much of it leaches out of containers into what we eat and drink everyday. Why care? When you consume plasticizers, the compounds alter your chromosomes which can cause disease and organ dysfunction, especially in our reproductive systems. Since I hardly need any more issues going on there, I've detoxed our kitchen, realizing it's impossible to entirely escape the stuff. Here's what to know.

1. The numbering system for plastic is a valuable way to differentiate between the worst offenders and those that are known to leach out a lot less. The bad guys to chuck are:

#3 - PVC, especially common in plastic wraps and, in my case, dirt cheap picnic ware from Target. Make sure you use a wrap that says "no plasticizers" on the label if you can't find an actual number.

#6 - All styro products, including takeout containers.

#7 - PC, this is a hard plastic that's very common for durable water containers. Pitch that puppy and get yourself a new aluminum one. Sigg makes some lovely versions.

2. The better plastics to look for in the store: #1, 2, 4, 5, and 7-PLA. That last one is actually made from corn and it's starting to pop up in organic store brands. It's the only one of the bunch that's totally safe. If you don't see the PLA attached, it's the bad version of #7.

3. Heat and plastic should never mix. No matter what type it is, it'll leach if you heat it up. This means no plastic in the microwave and no hot takeout containers from the Thai place down the street. Sorry. Don't leave bottled water out in the sun where it can get warm. And do I really need to tell you not to eat frozen entrees? If you really must, transfer it to a glass or ceramic plate before nuking it.

4. If the plastic is cloudy, really old, stained or scratched, pitch it. It's leaching.

5. Meet your old friends, glass, ceramics, waxed paper cartons, and aluminum. They didn't mutate your grandma's DNA and they won't mutate yours.

Wine Tasting Tonight (Pants Optional)

2009-06-03T11:54:00.000-07:00

So, we're going to the Wednesday tasting at Just Grapes tonight (560 West Washington), which will focus on some big, bodacious Aussie wines. And you should too! It'll be a particularly good one because the owner Don and his authentically Aussie wife just got back from an extended trip there. Don will have some interesting new goodies to share... not to mention stories of the wine-makers, who can always be counted on for some rollicking "pants-off" fun, as they call it.

Gotta love those Aussies.

David Lebovitz: My Bono

2009-06-01T11:12:00.000-07:00

Any 12-step program will tell an addict to avoid their triggers, much less invite them into your home on a live-in basis. This is why I've never allowed myself to purchase an entire box of cake mix for no specific reason or, say, date a pastry chef. Not that I haven't fantasized about those things. (Those 80s commercials about "living in the land of Dairy Queen"? They still haunt me to this day.) I just know that my personal danger zone of no-holds-barred consumption behavior is paved with butter cream frosting, so I only allow myself to indulge in limited doses, preferably with my husband or friends to serve as backup. This is a Category 5 sweet tooth I have, people.

Despite his considerable chops as a nationally-celebrated pastry chef, I'd never heard of David Lebovitz before two days ago. Alice Waters and Chez Panisse? Yes, of course. But David's fame is from two all-dessert cookbooks he wrote after spending years at Panisse, both of which I've averted my eyes from in bookstores to resist taking home in plain brown paper bags and stashing greedily under my bed. This week, however, I was in le mood for some nonfiction foodie reading and saw that The Sweet Life in Paris by Lebovitz is #6 on Amazon's Kindle nonfiction list. Now I'm in awe of this man doing God's work in France as a transplant, and dispatching books and blogs about it. Aside from Paris's art world, which I explored somewhat in my late college years, he's given me the foodie half that I just knew existed - and it's even better than I hoped.

It's been my dream to take a romp through Paris that I've very creatively entitled the "Let's Eat Our Way through Paris Trip." Despite having a willing spouse and knowing two great couples to go whole hog with me on the idea, it's still just a glimmer in my eye, thanks to the recession, the underperforming dollar, and my own career ambitions of late. So. Lebovitz's book has been an excellent substitute. He's not only a witty observer, he opens up his personal life to make his essays feel like the first-hand accounts of a friend, one with a three-dimensional life that just happens to revolve around 5 kilo slabs of chocolate.

Amazed at his description of G. Detou, the pastry-makers paradise he describes in the book, I pounced on his blog online and MON DIEU! found that he leads culinary tours through the city. The one I'm fantasizing about is this Gastronomic Adventure in October, and I swear, if I went he would certainly not need to give me the shorts and fanny pack lecture.

One day, my friend. One day.

(The above photo of G. Detou is by Jason Whittaker.)

Two Quick Friday Observations

2009-05-29T10:31:00.000-07:00

1. Lockwood is super-smart for promoting this 20% discount off lunch or dinner when you show them your Art Institute ticket stub, in honor of the Modern Wing opening. If you want formal environs to help recover from your post-art coma, theirs is indeed a lovely and very convenient option. Terzo Piano on the other hand is arty casual.

2. Open two weeks now, Terzo's service staff is definitely still getting its legs. Lunch there has been averaging about 90 minutes - a long time for most of us to escape our typical weekday maelstrom. I'm checking it out for dinner next Thursday to see how the experience varies from mid-day.

Chicago Grilling Season Kickoff

2009-05-26T10:36:00.000-07:00

Don't you love it when you invite an eclectic mix of friends over for a super-causal dinner, and everyone just clicks? We did this on Sunday afternoon to officially open grilling season. Despite the fact that the weather was too chilly to lounge on the rooftop deck, it was the easiest, most enjoyable entertaining we've ever done. We kept the menu simple and fresh so that I could relax and enjoy having everyone camped out around the kitchen island, which is where they all usually end up anyway.

The Menu

Grape, Mint and Jalapeno Salsa
Navy Bean Artichoke "Hummus"
Blue Corn Chips
Pitchers of Vodka Lemonade
Grilled Salmon Fillets with Ginger Soy Glaze
Grilled Petit Sirloin Steaks
Red Potato Salad with Gorgonzola
Tossed Green Salad with Mango
Assorted Cookies

Nothing on the menu took more than a few minutes to prepare, except for the steaks - which at succulent 4 inches thick required some serious grilling. The quality of both the salmon and steak (from the previous day's Whole Foods expedition) were AH-MAZ-ING.

The big star of the day however seemed to be the grape salsa, for its unexpected blend of cool sweetness, mint, and heat. Pile that onto a salty chip and YUM!

Grape Mint Salsa
From Southern Living Magazine by way of Epicurious

2 cups green seedless grapes, coarsely chopped
2 cups red seedless grapes, coarsely chopped
2 tablespoons chopped fresh chives
2 tablespoons chopped fresh mint
1 tablespoon fresh lime juice
1 whole jalapeño pepper, seeded and finely chopped (don't forget your gloves for this part!)

Whole Foods Gives Chicago Big Box Organic

2009-05-24T06:55:00.000-07:00

Ah serendipity. After our recent resolve to go all organic, we girded our loins yesterday and headed for the new 75,000 square-foot Whole Foods that just celebrated its grand opening on Wednesday, located on Kingsbury and North Ave. We watched it go up this winter from the terrace of our gym nearby, wondering if it would improve the black hole of congestion that the smaller store caused for so long two blocks north. That it would be a stellar experience inside, I never doubted, but I have to admit this third-largest Whole Foods in the world has exceeded even those expectations.

The parking sitch: Not bad. The 400+ space facility was as full as you'd expect on Memorial Day weekend just after the grand opening (are we nuts, by the way?), but it's designed well enough that you can easily circulate until someone vacates a spot, which only took a couple of minutes.

The first impression: In Broadway parlance, it's a WOW. We entered on the second floor and descended the long escalator into a bright, airy, lofty space bursting with produce, live music, patrons sipping coffee at cafe tables, and people. Lots and lots of people.

Navigation: Maybe it's just the museum geek in me, but I wanted a map with my shopping cart. Looking south, I saw more and more store. It goes on for days. There's a mezzazine level and a diner, not to mention six other eateries tucked into various sections, only a few of which I saw on this visit. The produce section however didn't seem any bigger than the former one, and its still laid out at angles with cramped aisles - maximizing eye appeal but minimizing mobility. From there, the rest of it meanders generously around the big key landmarks, like the impressive Butcher counter and Bakery, which I swear attracted about 300 people with its free tasting stations.

Favorite surprise: Aisle Rage could have set in between Seafood and Dairy if my astute husband hadn't spotted a fellow shopper carrying a glass of beer who informed him that, "This whole store is a bar. You can get drinks at different places and carry them around." He pointed out the beer bar; my honey quickly began hunting for the inevitable wine counterpart. Which he found across from the milk, next to the large wine department. The double-sided Da Vine bar is surprisingly big, with an elevated seating area, knowledgeable staff, and a menu offering some interesting wines-by-the-glass and cheeses. A few steps away, a kid carved up giant wheels of amazingly tangy Parmigiano Reggiano for free samples. Sipping and munching, I relaxed considerably and ticked items off our shopping list. I turned to my husband and said, "Yeah. This is our store. We've come home."

The six remaining eateries are thematic to Chicago's neighborhoods: Wicker Park Subs, Pilsen Taqueria, Taylor Street Pizza, Asian Express, the retro Riverview Diner, and the Chicago Smokehouse and Rotisserie. There's also a lounge area, outdoor tables overlooking the river, and the entryway coffee and beer bar with a live music stage.

Other surprises: The seafood department offers three types of fresh wild salmon. My husband stared in wide-eyed wonder at the endless possibilities of the DIY nut butter station, not to mention the trail mixes possbile in the expanded bulk foods area that's about double the size of the previous one. In every area, selection is vast. I chose from eight kinds of European-style butters and nearly freaked when trying to decided on yogurt.

Customer service: Seriously great. They must be plying the staff with free yoga and aura massages, because we only encountered cheerful, helpful people who never forgot to ask if there was anything else we needed.

Cooking En Feugo

2009-05-23T21:13:00.000-07:00

Why is it that whenever I dice jalapenos or other hot peppers for a recipe, it never occurs to me to wear gloves? As a contact lens wearer, I've stood in the bathroom exhausted before bed more than a few nights, squinting my way through a case of Searing Capsaicin Eyeball. Not good. Not good at all.

So I Googled it and naturally found a litany of discussion board strings offering all manner of sage advice for when the usual handwashing has failed. "Soak your hands in bleach." Um, no. Just plain no. "Scrub with a polmace stone." I'm thinking that was meant to be pumice stone, but again, I must decline on the basis that I want to keep my epidermis mostly intact. Being Italian-American, my first inkling was olive oil. I nearly headed in that direction when I saw a post, by a strong speller, who swore that half and half was his miracle cure. I was a little sad to waste any of the sacred dairy combo, but I indeed just bathed my hands in some, and well, wow. About 90% of the burn is gone.

But if you know a better way, please tell.

Climbing on the All-Organic Bus

2009-05-20T13:31:00.001-07:00

The confetti has been swept, thousands of Champagne bottles have been recycled (I hope), and the mayor and Rahm-bo have long since left the building. Everyone in my area of the museum has a jumbo-sized opening week excitement hangover, but the new wing and all its inspiring features are, in fact, launched and chugging along nicely. Hordes of visitors are pouring into it for free as I write. Art and handmade pasta for the people! Yes! We! Can!!

It's a given that my brain is fried. But on Sunday, once I consented to peeling myself off the sofa, I walked over to a mirror to confront what 10+ months of monster-truck-sized stress have done to my body. And people, I am fat. Not Biggest Loser fat. Just there's-no-way-in-hell-I'm-going-to-fit-into-last-summer's-pants fat. And last summer? Not exactly a moment to celebrate in my personal journey toward glowing health and fitness.

I've made three decisions about this. 1) It is not going to be my new norm. Noooo, nononono. NO. Change is coming to these hips, America. 2) It's time to put the kibosh on the stress. And 3) I will eat my kind of food to return to a healthy weight. No sense in pretending that I'm going to forgo real food pleasures for, well, anything ever. I'll just have to pace them somewhat more between fresh seasonal produce, whole grains, and...um, something else that my take-out habit has fogged up my brain cells too much to remember.

To brush up on these weighty matters - sorry, couldn't resist - I downloaded Jillian Michaels' new book Master Your Metabolism on my (amazing, awesome, stellar) Kindle. I never watch her show. But I do relish her refreshing talent for honest, sweaty, ass-kicking fitness, and the fact that the book focuses on endocrinology intrigued me greatly.

It has me REELING. Michaels relates how in past years she meticulously consumed 1,200 calories a day and spent over six hours in the gym a week to keep her bod in top form. No shock there. But if she "relaxed" and ramped it up to all of 1,800 calories with the same workouts, she gained 15 lbs. almost immediately. I know dozens of people who can relate to a similar scenario...just none who look like her or have her discipline. An endocrinologist treating one of Michaels' clients eventually tested her and found that literally every major metabolic hormone in her system was totally out of whack - thanks to years of dieting, stress, lack of sleep and consuming processed foods.

And it's that last item that has me reeling. I always knew that processed foods could trigger allergies or lead to long-term health issues like heart disease, and I've minimized them without getting too worked up over it. But I didn't imagine that they could so quickly bring on a vicious cycle of obesity, for one. Or ovarian cysts. Or premature puberty. Or depression. Or any of the other honestly serious immediate dangers triggered by hydrogenated oils, FDA approved preservatives, and additives. In short, if wellness nazis like Jillian Michaels aren't immune from the effects of this toxic junk that's completely taken over our culture, then America, my friends, we are all deeply, truly effed.

Big time.

So I have to believe that this is where Darwinism kicks in, and the smart ones will take the advice to thrive in spite of the overall environment of crap. Which means going all-out, full-stop organic. And breaking up with diet Dr. Pepper and protein bars for good. And learning the entire number system for plastics so I know which ones will alter my DNA if put in my dishwasher. None of which sounds so terribly daunting, but just try to go stand in line at Cosi and order lunch with all this spinning around in your head.

As usual, my friend Dar has a way of just knowing like Yoda. She sent me a package from Zingermans this week as a gift, and when I opened it, I was greeted by a box of Rabitos Royale ...Spanish figs filled with brandy liqueur, dipped in chocolate. No, not diet food. But here's the thing: it wouldn't even occur to the Spanish to fill this unreal little bonbon with toxic crap. In the US, we'd slap an "ALL NATURAL" banner on the front and sell them for 300% markup. But this little darling is exactly the one special treat of my day that won't make me miffed about doubling up on the salads.

Italian Red from Heaven: Marco Donati's Taroldego

2009-05-10T14:30:00.000-07:00

My husband and I went to Spiaggia for a quiet brunch today and lingered over a gorgeous meal that I'm going to think about for a long, long time. Aside from the food, which was equal parts artful and soulful, our waiter suggested a little known wine varietal in the US that was absolute love at first sip - taroldego, a red grape from the Alto Adige region in the northern Alps of Italy.

Drinking it brought back one of the sweetest memories I've ever had. About eight years ago, I zipped through Trento's back roads in a Ford Escort with two friends on our way to Venice, and in one of those great unplanned travel moments, we spent the night in Trento. Aside from knowing the incredibly useful fact that it hosted a Vatican council in the 16th century (um, not), I knew nothing about it. We arrived late at night, and all I could tell was that it was tiny, had plenty of medieval charm, and its residents were amused by tourists. We checked into the one pricey hotel because the rest were full. When I woke up the next day and opened the windows on our terrace, I was speechless. It was a bright May morning and had just finished raining. With the air sweet and clean, the misty clouds were still drifting in and out of the incredibly dramatic green peaks surrounding us. We spent the rest of the morning exploring its little nooks and crannies.

While the clean, flinty white wines of Alto have become relatively familiar territory since then, I don't recall ever seeing a red from the area. Today's 2005 Marco Donati teroldego had notes of that same sweet earthiness that I inhaled when I opened our terrace window years ago, which was like music to my nose. Aside from that heady memory, it was filled with bright fruit and a lovely structure similar to a pinot noir, with an unbelievably long finish that made my husband and I both sit quietly and smile.

In this case, Trento's terroir had the same effect on me as the town itself did years ago: a slowing of the senses to appreciate just how beautiful life can be.

The Gage's Swanky Little Neighbor

2009-05-10T06:08:00.000-07:00

Last night, as I left the Modern Wing's still-percolating Gala at 9:30, I was hungry for dinner (I didn't sit with the guests for this one). So I popped over to the Gage to order takeout on my way home. While I waited on my caramelized lobster at the bar, the bartender and I chatted about the new restaurant concept that Dirk Flanigan and Billy Lawless have in the works for next door. They're still debating ideas on the menu, but they've settled on creating an intimate four-star experience with a small number of tables and no bar. They're even considering Italian, and are ultimately aspiring to earn Michelin's attention when the rater finally covers Chicago.

Terzo Reservations to Open Next Week

2009-05-07T10:17:00.000-07:00

I'm too crazed for words, but here's the news today....

Terzo Piano will begin taking reservations on Monday, May 11th. You may make reservations for parties up to 8 by phone (312 443-8650) or online at www.opentable.com.

The restaurant will hold its grand opening on Saturday, May 16th. It will be open daily for lunch from 11am-3pm, on Thursday evenings until 9pm in the summer (during late hours) and until 8pm the rest of the year.

Update on Terzo Piano

2009-05-03T06:56:00.001-07:00

Mama mia, another post about Terzo Piano. (At the risk of being monomaniacal, the Modern Wing is all I'm eating, breathing, or sleeping for the next couple of weeks as we enter the final stretch for the opening festivities, so please humor me.)

Friday afternoon, I walked through the restaurant space with one of my project teams on our way to the Bluhm Family Terrace, and it was clear that Terzo has turned a major corner since my last visit just a week ago. Staff members were unloading and stacking dishes and cookware in the kitchen. Even better, as we emerged into the dining area, there was a collective gasp: the interior architecture is completely finished and it is *gorgeous*. Denison has done a phenomenal job with his usual minimalist restraint, although the pearl-toned mosaic on the bar is a surprising touch of understated glamour. The chairs and other furnishings were just beginning to make their way in, some of them supporting nervous-looking interviewees.

Can't wait! Can't wait!...and I won't have to for very long, because I'm booked for a "rehearsal" lunch there this week.

I've also learned that the restaurant plans to take reservations on Open Table. I have to admit I'm proud yet shocked that AIC has decided to go this way. In the eight years I've worked there, the museum has always been veeeery slow to adopt any form of new technology. It's truly a new day. Naturally, this also means it's going to be all the more competitive to get a reservation for those lunches and once-weekly dinners.

Communalism Taking Over America!

2009-04-25T21:45:00.000-07:00

This week, the topic of communal table seating came up a few times with friends in conversations, probably because so many new places like the Bristol, Urban Belly, and the Publican have embraced it. Despite the urban restaurateur's obvious enthusiasm for it (i.e. love for a high mouths per square-foot ratio), the consensus among my incredibly unscientific poll is that at its best, it's tolerable. At its worst, it gives plenty of people a reason not to try a good restaurant.

At Pierrot last week, I was surprised when the waitress squeezed me between two men. They were both young-ish, attractive-ish, and, I'm pretty sure, European-ish. If I were single this would all be very, very good. But mostly I felt like I had just been assigned a middle seat on a plane. All three of the others near me were alone, avoiding eye contact like malaria, and had staked out their table real estate with personal detritus like sunglasses, iPods, books, and mobile devices arranged in a fan formation around their place setting. Those who had the latter were picking them up and clinging to them like life rafts, checking and re-checking for messages in a way that said, "I'm not desperate. People are absolutely dying to get a hold of me."

Time Out Chicago did a pretty good article on communal etiquette last fall. What it doesn't acknowledge is that it's pretty natural to feel awkward in the communal situation when you're dining solo. Introverts and extroverts aside, human food-sharing is a primal behavior that we've been hardwired to use for bonding to others at every stage of life - from breastfeeding to dating to power-lunching. We use food to connect with other humans to get our needs met.

And so there you are, sitting between two total strangers, reeeally hoping they don't want to bond while you have your way peaceably with a tuna salad. The graceful thing to do is, as Time Out suggests, at least acknowledge the humans around you. Time Out suggests making introductions - as in, they want me to voluntarily exchange names with the entire table. I have never once seen this done. I think a simple hello should suffice. Then, if you're not feeling up for a brisk round of networking, reading is always a good strategy to politely say, "Do not disturb." Just make sure your newspaper doesn't turn into a weapon as you turn pages. Or you could make like Oprah and pony up for a Kindle. As Amazon's CEO Jeff Bezos was super-quick to point out on Jon Stewart, it's like, totally perfect for reading with one hand.

Bah-dump-bum.

Hibiscus Cocktails Gone Wild

2009-04-25T10:49:00.000-07:00

Papawow (who always cracks me up) posted a Hibiscus Champagne Cocktail recently that looks so wonderful, I found myself wishing the gi-normous megabyte photo was real. P'dubs took the exploration a step further by rolling up his sleeves and walking us through the recipe for making the hibiscus extract. Slurp, delish! I might have thought this was just overachieving and not considered it much further had I not recently had an exceedingly chuggable - ok two exceedingly chuggable - Hibiscus Cobblers at Bluprint with a BFF in the Merchandise Mart two Fridays ago. The experience convinced me that happy hour is in fact just as medicinal as Xanex, and with far fewer side effects. You haven't met the Hibiscus Cobbler? Let me introduce you:

Hibiscus Cobbler

2 oz. gin
dry vermouth
pineapple juice
hibiscus syrup
grenadine
bitters

Now that you're acquainted, I bet you're wondering about the name. A Cobbler cocktail uses a base of wine, sugar, fresh fruit, and ice. The original was the Sherry Cobbler, which was most popular in the late 19th century. (Your silver cocktail shaker with a built-in strainer at home? That's called a Cobbler shaker, but then you probably knew that.) The vermouth is the wine in this case, although I'm guessing it's used in a very small quantity. I tried going back to Blueprint this Friday to bribe the barkeep for the recipe, but they were closed for an event.

Curses! I'll try again soon and will share the bounty.

Friends & Family Discount @ Art Institute

2009-04-24T07:58:00.000-07:00

Hello, my lovely readers!

As a thank you for patronizing my foodie boite, I thought I'd pass along a 30% Friends & Family Discount for membership at the Art Institute. This means the typical $80 membership will run you $56. This rate is totally transferable and good until May 31st, so feel free to use the code and send it along to other art lovers.

All levels of membership get these bennies:

Access

Free admission to the museum (unlimited visits!)
Free admission to special exhibitions (ditto!)
Members Only Previews of the Modern Wing next month and to special exhibitions (skip the lines!)
Free admission for all member children 18 and under in the member household
Access to the Member Lounge (comfy sofas...free coffee)
Member-only travel opportunities
Access to the Ryerson and Burnham Libraries
Exclusive opportunities for Reading between the Lions book club
Invitations to member events throughout the year
Subscription to the museum’s e-newsletter

Discounts

10% discount in the Museum Shop and restaurants (including Terzo Piano!)
25% discount on Museum Studies
Member Appreciation Days with member-only tours and double discounts
Discounts on continuing education courses and membership at the Gene Siskel Film Center

How to do it?

1. Go here to see which membership package you want.
2. Go here to sign up. Use "AICFamily" in the Promotion Code field.
3. Under AIC Staff Referrer enter: "Emilie" (that's me)
4. Await your shiny new membership card in the mail.

2009-04-24T06:06:00.001-07:00

I'm testing my new mobile blogging!

Review: Pierrot Gourmet

2009-04-20T18:58:00.000-07:00

It's ironic that Pierrot Gourmet is named for the jilted French clown from the Commedia dell'Arte. Because from what I can tell, everyone eating at Pierrot is really happy...and sad clowns are, well, freaky. In a tough work week last week, I decided to take myself out for a couple of nice lunches, and this was the best of the two. I'd forgotten exactly how much I adore this little cafe attached to the Peninsula Hotel. Its sunny, southern French atmosphere is welcoming and charming without being fussy, with three large communal tables down the center and rows of wine and pastries at the fringe. The service is worthy of the hotel that houses it...and the food! Oh, the food! I had the chopped shrimp salad with mangoes and peanut dressing, and it was spectacular. The perfect afternoon lunch to make me forget the relentless flow of emails and messages piling up in my office. I was a little shy of my spot at the communal table until I realized that this is one of the best and busiest of people-watching locations downtown. That, and I could totally ogle the food of my neighbors.

Terzo Piano Fact Check List

2009-04-17T13:59:00.000-07:00

Chicago magazine did a lovely, lovely job of covering the upcoming opening of the Art Institute's Modern Wing - including a sidebar piece by Penny Pollack on its restaurant Terzo Piano. Besides Tony Mantuano, her points, in brief:

1. Dirk Denison designed the restaurant interior? Check. Besides working with Rich Melman and Laurent Gras to design L20, he's a professor of architecture at IIT and a Mies van der Rohe expert. (I also dig him because it was his idea to invite Hubbard Street Dance Chicago to perform in the restored Crown Hall on IIT's campus. He's most certainly cool people.)

2. The Nichols Bridgeway will take pedestrians from Millennium Park to the restaurant level? Check. And it will be awesome.

3. There are no walls, only windows in the restaurant? Um, well, no. There are walls. Not many, but some. You can't see into the kitchen, for one.

4. The glass covered patio is next to an art-filled terrace that overlooks the park? Actually, the patio is part of the terrace. Tables will be near art. Art will be near tables. Even better, no? And the view there, is breathtaking.

5. The lunch menu includes a salad that's an ode to the pea, and cheeses from Iowa and Wisconsin? Check.

6. The dinner menu includes house-made spaghetti? Check. But one important thing bears mention on this point: Dinner will be served just Thursday nights, when the museum is open late.

As of today, reservations for May 16th and thereafter haven't started being accepted yet.

My First Chicago-Style Dog

2009-04-16T11:24:00.000-07:00

Ever since Phil Foss responded to Menupages' street food challenge with the lobster dog at Lockwood, I've been flirting with the idea of ordering it up. I usually make most non-life-altering decisions in about a nanosecond, but I vacillated on this. Maybe it's because I feel so left out of the Symphony in Pig movement, as Dennis Ray Wheaton coined it in Chicago mag this month, that's seduced dozens of chefs at places like Mado and The Publican. These are restaurants where pescatarians like me feel a little like Tracy Flick showing up at an orgy. The cults of Hot Doug's and charcuterie are having such a moment lately, even something as honestly marine as Foss' creation struck me as getting a little bit sucked into the pork vortex.

But, hell, I work a block from Lockwood and literally walk through the Palmer House lobby several times a week. And a girl's gotta eat something other than tuna wraps for lunch. So I parked myself at the bar today fully expecting to order the crab cake sandwich, as I did last time I was there. Except that there is no crab cake sandwich anymore. It's been replaced by the dog. So I ordered it... with truffled chips.

It really is quite good. Not life-changing. But surprisingly rich and delicate at the same time, if not a touch too oozy with more saffron-ginger buerre blanc than it needed. Foss did a great job of honoring all the textures and flavors of the hot dog (if I remember anyway...it's been 15 years or so) using lobster, scallop mousse, leeks, tomatoes, a potato bun and spices. But even if you were oblivious to the provenance in say, a blindfolded, 9 and 1/2 Weeks type situation, it stands on its own as inventive, decadent, comfort food. I don't know anybody who isn't going for that right now. At $18, it's not a recession darling, but I'm not going shame you from enjoying one. Quite the contrary. Despite what the media wants to tell us 24-7, some people have money right now and they're still spending it on things that make them feel good. As were the six other people eating at the bar with me today.

Our waiter mentioned that Potter's, the cocktail lounge at the Palmer House, is offering the dog for half price on Wednesdays. That's nine more bucks for your cocktail kitty.

Santa Fe Must-Do: Flying Star Cafe

2009-04-14T18:04:00.000-07:00

If there's one thing - just one solitary entity - that I could have in Chicago from New Mexico where I grew up, it would be a Flying Star Cafe. Jean and Mark Berstein's local chain of up-early, open-late spots in Albuquerque are what I think of as perfect all-around restaurants, and they're the first place I ask to go when I visit home. The food is fresh, organic, stunningly delicious, affordable, and available damn near 24-7. You can breeze in for a quick nosh, a long lingering coffee, a full dinner, or something killer decadent from their extensive bakery. From meatloaf to vegan, caramelized french toast to chopped Cobb, nothing they do is mediocre. It was the site of my first mac-n-gouda orgasm. Enough said.

Best part: They're on the verge of opening a Santa Fe location at the Railyards on May 4th! Which is awesome, because the new Rail Runner Express runs between Albuquerque and Santa Fe in less than 45 minutes. Meaning I can skip the 85 mph drag race on I-25 in favor of relaxing with a nice read, to then hop off the train for a hand-mixed Italian soda and a steaming Buddha Bowl. BLISS.

Oh, and I guess Obama ate at one when he was in town. You have to admit, the man knows his pie.

Ferran Adria's Ice Cream Maker

2009-04-14T17:53:00.000-07:00

Liquid nitrogen in the kitchen sounds so NASA to the culinary world, but this video by ForaTV shows us it's really just a very handy sorbet-maker.

Wine for the Innocents

2009-04-13T14:32:00.000-07:00

In yet another excuse to write about dogs this afternoon (!), I saw that Alpana posted today about how her Pug, Haruki, loves to sniff newly opened wine. She's stopped just short of letting him have a slurp. Kind of amazing to consider what his canine sense of smell is bound to be able to detect in there, don't you think? I'm sure his nose beats the absolute pants off Robert Parker's. Just imagine if Haruki could spell and had opposable thumbs.

Haruki's appreciation reminds me a little of my friend Don's 9-month old son. Yesterday at brunch, his wine-loving parents showed us how he's already learned to lean in and sniff the bouquet in a glass, imitating his dad's most serious expression while he does it. Pretty awesome. It made me feel slightly less freakish for having grown up in a family so Italian that I was literally enjoying veal cutlets and watered down vino in my highchair.

Et Tu, Atlantic Food?

2009-04-13T08:53:00.000-07:00

My closest friends and family know that I daily walk the line that crosses into Crazy Dog Lady territory, but even I think the tsunami of press coverage about Bo the First Portuguese Water Dog is getting out of hand. Marion Nestle of the Atlantic's food blog is chattering about what Bo should find in his food bowl every day. Ah, that the press had its own trainer with a firm hand and some smelly liver to lure them into a nice, calming Sit-Down-Stay.

My Easter Buffet Playbook

2009-04-12T07:33:00.001-07:00

Easter and Mother's Day are the two high-holiest of spring buffet holidays, probably because both are family-centric and fall on Sunday. I don't have kids, live near my family, or go to mass with any regularity, so I can't remember the last time I actually went to an Easter buffet. That will change today when we go with a group of friends, and one 6-month old, to the Ritz Carleton's buffet this afternoon. Such a feat requires a strategy. Here's mine:

1) Reservations are required. This is not a drop-in dining moment, at the five-star hotel buffets in particular. My friend Nicole booked ours a while ago and she's sent email updates to remind us to be on time. She isn't paranoid. I remember managing the Easter reservations at the corporate club where I worked ages ago, and the rule for late-comers was You Snooze, You Lose...or at least get put on stand-by, because we gave your table away after 10 minutes. Nicer restaurants are a good alternative, and there's usually less Darwinism. I just checked Open Table, and plenty of great spots are still open starting at 1:00 today, including Spiaggia, Aigra Doux, Farmerie 58, Brasserie Jo, Graham Elliot, and the Gage.

2) Skip one meal today. Otherwise your're just asking for love handles and acid reflux.

3) Definitely work out twice this weekend. Hard.

4) Do not show up famished. Have a light snack before if necessary.

5) Start with the lighter items - soups, salads, fruit, crepes. Visiting these stations first is always a wise strategy to avoid misery later because it avoids filling up on the heavy stuff too fast.

6) On the second trip, look for something dazzling and enjoy an RDA portion. Then revert back to the lighter stuff if there's any room left. If I have dessert, it'll be fruit-based.

7) Try to keep it down to 2-3 glasses of wine. Today's feast is with our friends who own Just Grapes, so this will pose a challenge since we tend to order bottles by the round with them... It's okay to substitute one specialty cocktail, but just one. After two I'm sauced and my entire playbook goes out the window.

8) Do not hit the couch post-buffet for a couple of hours. Since Chicago's Easters are usually frigid, this usually means window shopping indoors or getting creative.

Anniversary Dinner with Mayor Daley

2009-04-09T19:27:00.000-07:00

As of today it's been 20 years since Mayor Daley took office as the benevolent dictator of our metropolis. Holy crap is right, Chicagoist. In honor of this occasion, perhaps you could celebrate by going to Gibson's and asking for "the Mayor's table." This of course will not get you a decent table at all, but one near the kitchen that the wait staff refers to this way to appease demanding jerks who walk in with no reservation. Gibson's was old school Daley.

For new school Daley, skip that and go to Santorini in Greek Town where he's reportedly been trying to lay off the red meat in favor of pasta, seafood, and olive oil. Don't forget to order an Old Fashioned before dinner though. You don't want to go too crazy with the healthy. For the evening's entertainment, you'll want to get yourself to the Lyric Opera. Which production? Faust, naturally.

Bravo Duchamp!!

2009-04-06T19:05:00.000-07:00

Michael Taus' wife, Annette, just announced to her Facebook peeps (including moi) that Duchamp won the Time Out Chicago Critic's Pick Award tonight.

Go, Duchamp, go!! And congratulations to Michael... who makes the best damn veggie chili ever, by the way.

Recipe: Shrimp and Corn Chowder

2009-04-06T18:22:00.000-07:00

Lately when I get home, I can barely string together a sentence, much less practice my knife skills on a rutabaga. It's in these moments, as the only cook in the house, that I take a deep breath, open the fridge and let a calm acceptance take over as I channel my inner Nigella. Usually the food gods answer with some sort of inspiration or another that'll require minimal effort on my part. Friday night it was this comforting soup that managed to remind me that even though it was bitterly cold and ugly outside by April's standards, spring is in fact lurking quietly and stubbornly in our midst. It's partially inspired by Nigella's corn chowder, and partially by my favorite salmon chowder recipe. And the best part is that it was literally ready in 10 minutes flat.

Shrimp and Corn Chowder

14-oz can light evaporated milk
14-oz can sweet corn

1 cup veggie broth

small handful parsley

2 scallions

8-10 large shrimp, shelled

dash cayenne pepper

dash ground chipotle

garlic powder, salt, pepper

In a large sauce pan, warm the evaporated milk over medium heat and add the broth. In a food processor, add the corn, scallions, and parsley and blitz together into...well, a slurry, really. Scrape the corn mixture into the broth and stir well as it heats through. Add the cayenne, garlic powder, chipotle, salt and pepper to taste. Once it gets hot, add the shrimp and let them cook through until opaque.

Serve with tortilla chips.

Chicago Cocktails for Advanced Drinkers

2009-04-05T07:30:00.000-07:00

Two items of innovative cocktail brilliance were just put on the menu last night at Tavern at the Park downtown:

- The 20-Sixtini honors Mayor Daley's ultimate obsession and the IOC's visit to our city this week for the city's 2016 Olympics bid. It's a blend of mandarin vodka, vanilla-infused simple syrup, Blue Moon and ginger beer. Fruity, tangy and surprisingly delicious. A little steep at $13, but it's a Chicago-sized serving and some proceeds support the city's bid funding (i.e. pothole-filling, police).

- Cloudgate, the drink, will run you $199. At that price, what's in it (Grey Goose vodka, champagne) is not the point. What's served with it, however, is an Elsa Peretti Bean pendant necklace from Tiffany in sterling silver. While Peretti's spitting-image design predates our gloriously jumbo-sized, iconic Anish Kapoor sculpture - Cloudgate - across the street in Millennium Park, it couldn't be a more fitting trinket to celebrate our city with your nice wife who enjoys bling. Nicely done, Tavern. Nicely done.

What's Going Down in the Next 60 Days

2009-04-02T19:51:00.000-07:00

So here's the deal. I've been working on the capital campaign to build the Art Institute's new Modern Wing for well over a year, which means I'm a tired, cranky woman who writes about food to distract myself from the myopic focus, insomnia and general pissiness that such a massive undertaking requires. Despite that, we are a mere four weeks away from one of the proudest and most painful moments of my career - the two-week marathon of opening events that will damn near kill me and most of my colleagues. Twenty-four events in 22 days, to be exact. I'm telling you this because I'm just not sure how much love I'll be able to lavish on the Dirty Dish pages over the next two months. I will try my level best.

On the bright side, the art tribe loves beautiful food, and it's a big part of the Modern Wing's many amazing celebrations, not to mention Tony Mantuano's new restaurant that will reside permanently on its third floor. Many foodie details are under wraps that I'm verboten to share. But I promise I will when I can.

Deal? Deal.

xoxo, E.

Review: Red Rooster

2009-04-02T19:13:00.001-07:00

I went to Red Rooster in Lincoln Park this weekend with my husband and some out-of-town family guests. It's a tiny, wood-paneled place that feels like a hole-in-the-wall secret in Europe. A little dusty, it definitely hasn't changed in decades - perfect for dinner on a rainy night...or perhaps for when you're shagging your philosophy professor who reads you Proust in bed. The food is old fashioned but delicious, and it's remarkably cheap for the quality. My sauteed skate wing was bathing in a rich caper sauce, with buttery fingerling potatoes. There were multiple raves for the duck confit at the table. Desserts are equally rich and generous. The creme brulee was served in an unsually large glass bowl, and my vanilla mousse with fresh berries was amazing and bottomless. A very nice dinner value if you're after a low-key, simple atmosphere.

Elitist Stamp of Approval

2009-04-01T10:38:00.000-07:00

For my lunch-time diversion, I took Time Out New York's food snob quiz. No news bulletin here, but this was the verdict.......

Your Score: 69

Sorry to break it to you, but you’re a Bona Fide Foodie Elitist. Looks like your love of fancy foods has given you a bit of a tude, hasn’t it? Go sit in the corner with your shad roe.

Oui, TONY, oui. Je suis also une big art snob as well. Fortunately, I giddily embrace all species of dog and mutt, enjoy a rowdy weekend in Vegas, and can fishtale a pickup truck on dirt without spinning out. One has to be balanced, bien sur.

Crisis in America's Nuts

2009-03-31T18:12:00.000-07:00

When I ordered my Signature Salad at Cosi this afternoon, the cheerful big guy behind the counter broke some news: FDA recall on the pistachios, miss. I've got bigger problems, so I snarfed it anyway. But let me tell you, if this were Italy, I'd probably be out on a campanile ledge right now. Italian life without pistachio gelato is unthinkable.

It turns out the issue with the nut in question is salmonella found in the crop of a large producer from California. A mere million pounds or so. First peanuts, now this. What is happening to our country's nuts, I ask?...not altogether seriously. But truly, how is it that these alerts are happening often enough to justify the FDA going on Twitter?

Memories of School Food

2009-03-31T08:51:00.000-07:00

The people behind the Memories of School Food contest at NBC must be counting on the fact that they're opening a Pandora's box of formative traumas. The only place I remember more grade school angst going down was at actual recess.

I went to Catholic school, where we had rules for everything, poly-blend uniforms, and mass on Fridays. And nuns. An army of them, scorning our innocence into military-like precision under the beatific gaze of our loving Lord Baby Jesus and Virgin Mother. I encountered my first school-engineered meal in the first grade at Our Lady of Fatima. After months of knowing only the homemade fare packed into my metal Strawberry Shortcake lunch box, I piled into our burnt-orange 1981 Volvo one morning to my mother's shocking announcement: "I couldn't make you lunch this morning. Here's money to buy it." She handed me a tenner. This was more money than I had ever held in my entire six years, and I was stunned into silence. Buy it?...You mean like those kids whose mothers don't care about them? With this? No one is allowed to have $10 by themselves. The food stinks like grease and plastic...

Seeing my worry, my mom walked me into class, where she briefed Sister Ada about my monetary surplus situation. Sister slipped the bill into an envelope and said I could get it before lunchtime. As if I wanted to. Lunch eventually rolled around and I obediently picked up my cash and made my way into the eating hall line like a little prisoner clutching an atom bomb. My menu options were sweaty hot dog in flaming hot plastic or gritty hamburger in flaming hot plastic. Both sat shrieking under the gamma rays of a heat lamp. Distrustful of the grease collecting at the bottom of the hot dog packages, I chose a naked burger, burning the total crap out of my fingers.

My stomach churned as I approached the cash lady with my specimen, who did a double take at my loot. "This is all you have? This can't be all you have. Oh, well..." and she dug below to change the $9.25 in singles and coins. At which point I began sobbing because I had no idea what to do with all that money. (No pockets on a standard issue first-grade plaid jumper, strangely.) The lunch monitor jumped to my aid, promising to keep the money for me if I would just get some milk and sit down. Humiliated, I did so, taking refuge in my cold dairy goodness and nearly gagging on the smell of the burger as I attempted applying mustard to it.

My peace didn't last long. Sister Lucille, our 5 foot tall, bulldog of a principal in a dress, brought 80 clamoring children to a halting silence with the repeated bang of her keys on the metal cash box. "Who put the wrong money in here?!! Someone paid with ten dollars!! This is the WRONG MONEY! WHO PUT IT IN HERE?!" She was facing the children, and she wanted names. No one, apparently, had discussed with Sister Lucille the idea behind this particular form of currency being legal tender for all debts public and private. Nor the virtues of stocking the till with plenty of ones. I looked at the cash lady. She avoided my glance, probably nearly as afraid as I was. And that was the first time in my 16-year parochial education that I had the thought: To hell with the nun and her crazy talk, I've been through enough.

Feasting on Life

2009-03-30T09:19:00.000-07:00

When one of my closest friends went through a horrible break-up five years ago, I gave her this poem by Derek Wolcott, which I'd since forgotten about. She stumbled across it last week and mentioned it to me this morning. Reading it reminds me of two things: 1) God, am I glad our 20s are over, and 2) the imagery of nourishing oneself back to wholeness with food and wine after heartbreak would certainly resonate my Italian aunties and mom. No wonder I love it.

Love After Love

The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other's welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.

Strategic Planning for Foodies

2009-03-27T09:47:00.000-07:00

Kate at IFA posed a Pantry Challenge today, listing a bunch of ingredients that she discovered in her cabinets. She resolved not to grocery shop until she uses all 29 of them. It's a formidable challenge. I find that even when I have rock stars in my pantry and freezer, some fresh produce from the store is always in order to bring them alive.

Which brings me to The System. Shortly after my husband and I shacked up a few years ago, I decided it was time to finally summon the full flower of my cooking mojo with some inspiration and organization. For the former, I subscribed to Cook's Illustrated and refreshed my cookbooks. For the latter, I just winged it and created The System for planning meals and shopping at warp speed. It's pictured above and it goes like this:

Make a chart with three sections: Have, Need, and Make. I start with Haves, meaning the ingredients I've got on hand that I want to use up during the week. Next the Makes, the meals I want to use the Haves for, usually four dinners, a couple of snacks, maybe a dessert. Then...I think you get the idea...I just continue working backwards to the Needs to identify the items I'll get at the store or order from Papa Peapod. The key to the idea is that the Haves combined with the Needs results in the Makes. I have no idea if anyone else uses this too, but it's so logical, I figured it's fairly common. My husband saw it and asked me to explain. When I was finished he said, "You know. You basically have your MBA. That's pretty much an entire two-year curriculum distilled down to an executive summary in visual form." Since he's a big UofC MBA geek, I took that as a compliment. I pretty much know what Goolsbee knows....and I make quiche.

Some cooks have a favorite appliance or piece of equipment they use in the kitchen. This is my favorite tool.

So Easy to Love

2009-03-25T15:31:00.000-07:00

Monday night my husband and I sat on the couch wondering what to do. It was officially and actually his birthday, but somehow after the 10-course dinner that weekend, three gifts from me, and piles of well-wishing from friends, he still wasn't done being feted. (I attribute this to a childhood short on juicy presents and envelopes stuffed with cash on birthdays, but then that's just my spoiled Italian butt talking.) Then he lit up and shouted, "The port!"

Upstairs to the wine fridge. Downstairs to the glassware. Some rummaging through a gift bag... and out came a 40-year Taylor's Fladgate Port, two glasses, and a tub of Trader Joe's almond chocolate clusters.

I chose my spouse well, no?

We are not what you would call novice port drinkers. Our good friend Mr. Just Grapes gave us the bottle on my husband's 40th last year because it's one of the adult beverages we're known for loving. Rubies and tawnies are like dear, beloved friends we invite over year-around. The highlights: We served the 2003 Fonseca Vintage Port as one of the dessert wines at our wedding a couple of years ago... and it sort of took over the party after a certain point, in the best way possible. I still snicker at the tiny dots that stain my silk wedding dress. This fall we enjoyed a gorgeous 1986 tawny the night before Thanksgiving dinner, and then...this, the Full Monty of ports. It was incredibly rich, with loads of buttersotch, caramel, and hazelnut, with a silky smooth finish that lingered and lingered like only port can. Adding the chocolate with the almonds actually made me swoon. Since then we've also tried it chilled before dinner, and found it to be absolutely delish.

Excellent idea for a birthday, or really, any night you decide to take Alpana's advice and open something lovely...now-ish.

Review: Coast Sushi

2009-03-24T15:16:00.001-07:00

Coast does just fine for a solid weeknight sushi nosh, but it's nothing special. Maybe I'm spoiled -or possibly have spent too many nights dining in Vegas - but for a place that's so often described as sexy, I find it a little on the ordinary side. Yet it's totally packed every single night. We went yesterday evening after a long absence and found the minimalist interior to be still, well, basic and dark. The long list of sushi rolls offers a mostly typical menu of options, although the quality of our fish was strong overall and I was glad to see that they aren't over-using so many rich sauces as they did a couple of years ago. The BYOB status is clearly a draw - literally every table in the place had a bottle sitting on it. A good meal, but you can get much better elsewhere if you're looking for great sushi.

The First Garden Goes Live

2009-03-23T20:30:00.000-07:00

The inevitable photos of Michelle Obama and co. digging into the White House lawn for a garden have hit the wires. A few thoughts:

1. Girl, who do you think you're kidding in that outfit? Maria Pinto and the sheath dress notwithstanding, ditch those city boots stat and put on some denim and a pair of Wellingtons. America loves a First Lady who can dig in the dirt like a real woman, I just know it. All of Kansas and Nebraska are laughing at you right now.

2. Would the media please stop calling Alice Waters for a minute? We get it. Organic. Sustainable. Out of the ground. All very, very good for the future of food policy and the planet. Now let the woman zip it so she can roll up her sleeves and DO.

3. Alice "never dreamed of the brilliant stroke of bringing in schoolchildren" for the garden? Wow. She really hasn't been around the block with politics much. Or anywhere near most urban garden programs, apparently.

4. Landscape architects are likely a little miffed that Alice said they taint the movement. She better watch herself before they organize and build a manure topiary on her front lawn.

5. Yay fifth graders. Yay Sam Kass.

Recipe: Matcha Hottie Latte

2009-03-22T20:00:00.000-07:00

Between Starbucks' green tea lattes and Jamba Juice's matcha smoothies, I developed a full-blown matcha addiction about two years ago. For once, it's a culinary Siren song that I don't have to resist. Matcha has a long list of health benefits, including the ability to detoxify blood, instill a relaxed state of alertness, boost metabolic rates, and flood your system with twice as many antioxidants as red wine. So I bought a little tin of it from Stash Tea a while back, looking forward to all the matcha magic that I would make in my kitchen. My ardent enthusiasm was met with defeat. Following a couple of recipes for lattes I found online, I achieved vaguely green soy milk with a ton of bitter powder clinging to the bottom of the mug...and a big honkin' hive on my upper lip. Lesson One: in high doses, I'm allergic.

This weekend I dug a little deeper and found an enlightening web site that describes all the different methods people use at home to coax the beloved froth out of their matcha powder, with most recipes calling for a 1/2 teaspoon of the green stuff. After researching Japanese whisks and Bodum's cute (although somewhat sex-toy-like) electric frothers online, I decided what the hell? Let's just try a martini shaker first. SUCCESS! Beautiful froth, deep green suspension of the tea in the milk, and no hives anywhere on my person. It totally works. Here's how:

1. Using a Cobbler martini shaker, pour in 6 oz. of cold soy milk
2. Add 1/2 teaspoon of high grade matcha powder
3. Toss in a bit of sweetener if you like - I use stevia leaf powder, another super-concentrated antioxidant source
4. Cap and shake it, shake shake shake it, shake like a Polaroid picture...for about 30 seconds
5. Pour this green loveliness into a deep cup or mug, making sure to tip out all of the froth from the bottom of the shaker
6. Nuke it in the microwave for one minute. The green froth will expand as it heats - once again reminding you that physics can be our friend.

When is physics not our friend? When we put hot soy milk into a metal martini shaker, that's when. Unless you miss the nice folks at the ER and/or cleaning explosive gunk off your kitchen ceiling, don't try this experiment at home.

Review: Sixteen

2009-03-22T06:52:00.000-07:00

Ever since Trump planted the first shovel in the ground on Wabash for Trump Tower, Chicago has honed its art of publicly hating the Donald. It's hard to resist. Between his obnoxious antics, ego, and excess there's enough to make your lip curl. At some point though, that gets trite and you may as well see if the reality lives up to the hype.

Sixteen's space is just as gorgeous as every review describes - stellar architectural views of the Wrigley and Tribune towers, and a luxurious interior to match - but then that's not really a rarity. There's no shortage of expensive, opulent restaurants in Chicago, although I don't think any of them have been vaguely derided for it like this one has. We went to Sixteen last night to celebrate my husband's birthday, and overall the food and wine pairings of our blind tasting menu were just shy of excellent, with truly great service that's actually too rare in our city.

Over three hours, Paul our sommelier presented all 10 of the small courses and their wine pairings to us. Chef Frank Brunacci's kitchen did a great job of adjusting the menu around my dietary restrictions of no meat or poultry, with one hiccup that was quickly resolved. The highlights were Brunacci's signature scallops with "bang bang" pear chutney, a Tasmanian sea trout with an amazing ginger reduction... and fried winter point oysters that I'm still thinking about. My husband's scallop, accompanied by fois gras, was his favorite of the evening, followed by a duo of fillet mignon and short ribs that had him swooning. The plate of artisanal cheeses was one of the best we've had anywhere, followed by two very good dessert courses. Paul's wine pairings were solid with moments of brilliance, and when he learned of our fondness for the Mary Edwards Pinot Noir, he sent more. You only eat like this a couple of times a year, if you're lucky. Would we go back? In a hearbeat.

The consumate lover of a great view, my husband eyed Sixteen's massive terrace from our table all night long. Paul said they plan to open it for brunch service later in the spring.

Texting Shamu: R U Green?

2009-03-20T09:58:00.000-07:00

As a pescatarian, I eat a lot of seafood. Not as much as Jeremy Piven maybe, but at least five times a week. Given that the FDA appears to barely bother to monitor seafood sold in the US, there are a few questions you might ask yourself when sitting down at the sushi bar. Like, where did this fine specimen come from? Is it endangered? Am I depleting the ecology of the ocean and planet and altering the entire weather system by dipping it in wasabi and savoring its buttery flesh? Or maybe, this is perhaps not yellowfin tuna at all but some sort of fraudulent usurper of tuna?

Damn.

The Blue Ocean Institute has devised a simple way to help answer the first three questions easily enough with their cool service called FishPhone.

1. Text to 30466 FISH + the name of your potential dinner victim.

2. They'll text you back an environmental thumbs up or down.

For example, I texted them for Artic Char, and their cheerful reply was,"Farmed Artic Char: very few environmental concerns; most char are farmed in inland facilities that cause little pollution."

It won't give you PhD-level insight into the issue, but it's one step closer to gaining peace of mind at the fish market or while perusing the specials menu.

Recipe: Crab Quiche

2009-03-18T17:03:00.000-07:00

Despite my Italian/New Mexican upbringing, my favorite food to make and eat at home is, without question, quiche. To me it's the perfect dish: low-effort, comforting, with seasonally adjustable ingredients, and you can enjoy it for any meal or at any temperature. All that, and it fills the entire house with a delightful smell that says something awesome is happening in the oven. When I know I'm going to have a gauntlet of a week at work, I make two different quiches on Sunday to bail me out of making dinner for a few nights. I have no idea why my mother never thought of this. A salad, or some fresh fruit, and maybe a glass of wine, and I'm happy as a clam.

Crab quiche is by far my favorite version, and I've experimented with it for a few years... beginning with a recipe that's supposedly John Travolta's fave. Surprisingly, I prefer to use at least half imitation crab meat because the whitefish in it holds the pie together well and gives it a great, meaty texture. Pure crab on its own is too rich, and this is a hell of a lot more convenient. Harder cheeses are best, like Parmesan and Swiss because they have a sharper flavor that gives the custard more dimension, but shredded mozzarella on its own does fine in a pinch.

Crab Quiche

Frozen deep-dish 9" pie shell

6 oz crab meat, picked through for shells

6 oz imitation crab meat

2 cups half and half (I always use fat-free)

4 eggs

1 cup shredded Swiss, mozzarella, and/or Parmesan cheese

1/2 tsp Old Bay seasoning

pinch nutmeg, preferably freshly grated

2 tbsp chives
2 tbsp cilantro and/or parsley
salt
pepper

Pre-bake the pastry shell for ~10 minutes, according to the package instructions. Remove it from the oven onto a baking sheet to cool for a minute and re-set the temperature to 375 degrees.

In a medium bowl, whisk together the eggs and half and half, and then add the herbs and seasonings. Blend well. Make sure the crab is completely drained, and if necessary blot with a paper towel so that it won't leach out excess water into the custard while baking. Place the crab meat in the warm pie shell, top with the cheeses and slooowly pour the custard over, so that the liquid has time to fill in all those delightful crevices before overflowing onto your baking sheet.

Bake 35-45 minutes, first checking your quiche at the 30-minute mark. The top should be puffy and kissed golden brown all around. Remove and let it cool 10 minutes so that it's easy to slice and serve.

Notes:

1. I'm sure this would be wonderful with a proper homemade crust, but due to my great aversion to anything resembling baking, I've never done it.

2. For taking this dish to parties, I've found it's best to double the recipe for a large glass or ceramic baking dish and go crustless (easy, now!), using just cooking spray to grease it. This way the crust doesn't have a chance to get soggy or crumbly between transport from your kitchen to the serving table. I let it cool completely and slice it into large square, stackable individual pieces. Every single time I've brought it, someone yells, "Crab quiche!" and a crowd gathers.

I'm sure Vinnie Barbarino would tell you, enjoy it with a Riesling, Chenin Blanc, or a Chardonnay.

Sterling & Goss: Glammed Up Bucktown Butcher

2009-03-17T19:08:00.000-07:00

I was surprised Sunday when my husband I stumbled on the new Sterling and Goss Purveyors on Milwaukee. As a non-red-meat or poultry consumer, I'm hardly going to be this local butcher's best customer. But I warmly embrace all gourmet food arrivals in the neighborhood. A dig through the cases and shelves turned up a few nice cheeses and olive oils, and more than a couple of great little chocolate bars. True, when I ordered my veggie wrap to go, I got a look of puzzlement at first. But then what do you expect from a 6' 5" Mr. Lamb Shanks?

Raising a Glass to Cook the Wolf

2009-03-17T17:52:00.000-07:00

I'll confess, I rarely enjoy the food and wine writing that I bother to read in newspapers. Maybe I'm a snob or I just take eating too personally, but I almost never enjoy what the populist foodie pages are dishing up. Bill Daley... how do you go on? Every time I read a question posed in that column, I want to tell the author to put their bloody pen down and go back to their box of Franzia.

I know, Mee-OW.

Literate, personal, insightful food writing...now that's the stuff. Some blogs have it, some don't. I'm not entirely sure that I read Emily Nunn's work in the Trib when she was with them, but I'm already a fan of her new blog, Cook the Wolf. And I'm not just saying this because we share a first name, a salon, or blog titles inspired by MFK. She wants to tell me about her grandma's mayonnaise? Bravo. I'm all ears when someone tells me of a formative food love. Especially when they know their parts of speech. She wants to suggest turnip perfume? Well.

The Demeter Fragrance Library doesn't have turnip cologne spray specifically, but comes close. How about Basil, Beet Root, Celery, or Dirt? Wet Garden maybe? Or better, in honor of a much needed new direction in life, New Leaf.

I'm personally a Tiramisu + Paperback + Champagne Brut blend. My own grandmother would definitely be Clean Windows + Angel Food + Gin and Tonic. No question.

Review: Think Cafe

2009-03-15T09:01:00.001-07:00

Despite high hopes, our dinner at Think Cafe on Western Ave. was an all-around letdown. We arrived at 7 p.m. on a Saturday, and literally the entire little space filled to capacity within 10 minutes. Many larger restaurants can handle this tough service challenge, but Think can't. The handful of waiters and bussers that they have room for literally tripped all over each other to get everyone settled, and it took a good 15 minutes before we actually heard the specials.

The food was mediocre. My husband enjoyed his seared scallop appetizer, but my Caprese didn't have much more than presentation going for it. The "organic grilled" tomatoes were bland and just slightly warmed. The mozzarella was barely flavorful and the texture was too chewy. The only highlight was the excellent balsamic vinegar. My lobster pasta special was a miss too. The lobster meat was lovely, but there wasn't much of it. The sauce was too oily, the wilted tomatoes contributed no flavor, and I'm still unsure what the buffalo mozzarella was doing showing up in this dish. Most of the flavor came from several beautiful, large grilled shrimp, but they were overdone and leathery. His venison was festooned with rich flavors of truffle oil, demi-glace, black truffles, and mashed potatoes...but it was slightly overcooked and somehow not very flavorful. Our banana caramelo dessert was fine, but Think has an issue with using awkwardly designed plates. This one showed up in a reed-thin canoe that kept capsizing as we tried to eat out of it. Next to that, I tried to drink my coffee out of a cup with a wavy handle so poorly designed, I fantasized about what it would feel like to hurl it into a fireplace and yell OPA!

Nonetheless, the place was packed and most people around us seemed oblivious to the bone-rattling noise and poor service. Maybe they were so happy with their BYO wine, they didn't care. I can't help thinking that the BYO policy is only thing keeping people so interested.

BYO Follow-up Edition: Know Your Liquor Control Act

2009-03-14T07:35:00.000-07:00

So there author Jean Iversen was, giving us the rundown on BYOB logistics on Thursday, when someone asked the question I had in mind: Why? Why is Chicago one of the only major cities in the US to allow people to bring their own wine or other hooch into a restaurant? The answer, most likely, is beer.

Jean didn't really know. Liquor control is a state-level jurisdiction, so all of Illinois is allowed to have BYOB restaurants, should the establishments choose, according to the Liquor Control Act of 1934. Being a big geek, I decided to dig further to hopefully discover the Founding Father of BYOB in Illinois. I didn't. But here's what I did find out:

1. Two-thirds of Chicago was dry in the early 1900s due to the temperance movement, which advocated for wards to vote taverns and saloons out of town. Chicago was a wild place back then, and utterly shocking deeds - even by today's standards - went down in the city's much maligned Levee district nightly. (For a thorough read on this, see Sin in the Second City. Crazy. Stuff.) The idea was that affluent, white Protestants loved Jesus too much to drink or fornicate...at least not at home. That's what the Levee was for.

2. At that same time, Chicago was a beer capital of the country, with over 60 breweries in town. The huge Irish and German immigrant populations brought with them the tricks of the trade, and business was great. Chicagoans couldn't buy beer retail because large amounts of ice were necessary to keep it cold, so they had to go to a tavern to enjoy it or buy it off a huge beer wagon. Retail sale didn't really begin until the 1930s, when refrigeration became commercially viable - an invention that was underwritten by Chicago's largest brewers like Charles Wacker.

3. In 1934, Illinois passed what still serves as its liquor act. Although portions of it have been amended heavily, its hallmark is known as the Local Option law. In a nod to the still highly charged temperance movement then, the Local Option allows wards and other municipalities to vote themselves dry or control liquor sales as much as they want. Some wards in Chicago have been dry for decades, places where you're sure to find BYO restaurants operating since they can't get a license. Tre Kroner on Foster is an example.

4. The act, however, explicitly allows for recreational establishments to permit their patrons to bring in alcohol, should the business choose. Huh. This strikes me as an amusing loophole in the dry clause. The lawmakers knew that plenty of wards would go dry, but they allowed businesses in those places to let patrons enjoy alcohol on premises if they brought it in from elsewhere. It's entirely up to the business to set the rules for how much can be consumed on site. A commerce-friendly decision, indeed.

5. The other thing that strikes me about the act is that "recreational establishments" term. So...we can have BYOB movie theatres? Yes, in fact, the 3 Penny Cinema in Lincoln Park was a BYO until it closed in 2006. Bowling alleys? Yep, although all of the ones I've checked in Chicago have their own liquor license. I'd imagine that pool halls and anything else you can legally make a case for as recreational could work too. Spas? Bookstores? Imagine the possibilities...

6. I couldn't write anything about this topic without mentioning Prohibition. Naturally, the Mob presence in Chicago during the 1920s "underwrote" shall we say a lot of illegal production that went underground for a while. While the lore is legendary, Prohibition did a huge amount of damage to legit business. Among the casualties were of course those 60 breweries. It's very possible that we owe the BYOB clause to a lawmaker hoping that the breweries would recover in Chicago post-Prohibition, but all of the large-scale operations died out. Micro-breweries and brewpubs keep the city's beer making tradition alive.

So here's to beer, Chicago. As we celebrate St. Patty's Day today all over the city, it's a fitting reminder that it has always run through her veins...and sometimes the streets.

Food Pairing for BYOB Bliss

2009-03-14T04:55:00.000-07:00

The BYOB Basics class at Just Grapes on Thursday night was enlightening and great. Naturally, it was primarily a food pairing class, with five fantastic dishes prepared by some of the city's BYOB restaurants to each try with six different wines. Delish! It was incredibly fun to experiment with the chemistry happening in my mouth. Here's what I figured out:

1. By far the most versatile of the varietals we tried was a Riesling, in this case O'Reilly's from Yakima Valley, Washington. It was light and drinkable, with a just barely a touch of fruity sweetness, decent acid, and a very clean, almost watery finish. Nice - but I wasn't gaga for it solo. It was absolutely stunning with maki from Meiji, picking up the sweetness in the unagi sauce in particular. Surprisingly, it paired almost as well with guacamole, contrasting the spiciness while complementing the acidity of the lime and tomatoes. It also worked very nicely with pad Thai, although I preferred a Gruner Veltliner slightly more.

2. It's wise to check the BYOB's menu online to pair your meal in advance. If you're unsure about pairing a tricky place, like say, Schwa, where they'll be throwing all kinds of innovative flavors at you (mmm...barnacles), you can print out the menu and take it into your favorite wine store for advice. You'll become an instant darling of the staff.

3. Saving that, it's usually fine to take a few bottles with you to the BYO so you can have some options. Please fetch a decent carrier, so you're not rolling in there all ghetto with your brown paper sacks. The market abounds. Just beware, a few places like Coast Sushi have a limit on the per head amount of alcohol you can bring in.

4. The most versatile food pairing wines are those with low tannin and good acid. Many whites naturally excel at this: most sparklers, Riesling, Albarino, Gruner Veltliner, Chenin Blanc, Sauvignon Blanc, and a lot of Chardonnay and Roses are great. Regionally, wines from Alsace and Austria often have that clean style with decent fruit to keep things interesting. For reds: Pinot Noir, Barbera, and Beaujolais are good bets. We stocked up on more of these to have on hand when BYO duty calls, and to play with pairings at home.

5. Stick with that profile especially for anything that's kick-you-in-the-arse spicy, like Mexican or authentic Thai. Tannin and high alcohol will just throw gasoline on your already en fuego situation, mi amor. More sweetness is a great idea to cool you down.

6. Don't fear the fruit. Even sushi tastes fantastic with wine that's showing some interesting fruit character.

7. More robust cuisine with earthy flavors, like a lot of Italian, Spanish, and other Latin food can obviously take bigger tannins. This where the Old World wines of my grandfather work: big, hairy, interesting reds with some Kung Fu acid. Go for it, Don Corleone.

8. If you're in a rush or just totally overwhelmed by wine performance anxiety, grab a bottle of something from the same country as your cuisine. It'll probably work.

9. A technical note: When you're playing with pairings, make sure you have some of the food in your mouth when you actually take a sip of wine. The chemistry happens when the food and wine come into direct contact. I can't think of a better place for such magic than right on my palate.

10. Don't sweat it too much. Open the bottle and enjoy.

Cupcake Provocateur

2009-03-11T13:59:00.000-07:00

A co-worker just breezed into my office to ask me whether I've been to the cupcake store up the street? Um. The WHAT?! Apparently a little sweet spot called Sugar Bliss opened on Wabash across from Macy's in January. She knew. Mike Doyle knew. I didn't know. This is what happens when you work 6 gazillion hours a week and walk around stressed out and sleep deprived. You miss out on cupcakes, that's what. No matter. I think fair play means that you have to let a new place get its legs before you go there once or twice and then blog all over them for not being good. Like some cupcake eaters might.

So obviously I need to ditch one of several dozen meetings and get myself there stat. While I'm at it, I'm going to pop around the corner to enjoy cup of Clover-brewed goodness at the Intelligentsia. Call me the un-Doyle.

Nigella 4-Eva

2009-03-10T19:09:00.000-07:00

The first time I saw Nigella Lawson, she was deep-frying a Twinkie on Oprah. I was appalled and awe-stricken in the same way you might be in the waiting area of an ER or perhaps a Chicago police precinct on a Saturday morning (oh like you never did it). But then a few minutes into the segment, I felt myself succumbing to her loquacious charm, perfectly pink, pouty lips and old soul banter about needing to play to your strengths in life. And I nodded in unison with Oprah, 'So true, Nigella, so true.'

A few years later this January, I went on a Nigella spree while stuck home with a cold, watching hours of Express segments on YouTube and ordering up the cookbook on Amazon. Like any courtship, I need to live with a cookbook for a while before I decide if we're meant to be. I might fall hard in the beginning. But then it's trial by fire, baby, and you better bring your A-game. And let me just say that after two months, Nigella Express has passed the gauntlet with flying apron strings. She's my girl. Knock her at your own risk. I will cut you.

Some observations:

Linguine with Lemon, Garlic, Thyme and Mushrooms - Sweet Jesus, the brilliance of this sums up the genius of the entire book. Here's a combo of familiar ingredients that you can literally throw together while all cranked out and exhausted after work. And not only is it simply delish, it requires no more actual cooking than boiling water. Magic.

Ginger Passon Fruit Trifle - How is it that we don't have more cookbook authors advocating for the free-form, non-bake, high wow-factor dessert orgasm that is the trifle? How? 'Gella even encourages us to skip the work by acquiring our "sponge" at the store. Her version of dessert perfection calls for none of the patience, all of the pleasure. And it's gorgeous. Yes. Please.

Moonblush Tomatoes - I love three things about this: 1) It's an old idea dusted off, and a damned good one at that -- roasting tomatoes by shutting off a hot oven and leaving them to gradually reduce overnight. 2) She understands that for those of us who are brain dead after a typical workday, "easy" takes different forms. You can't get much lower effort than walking away from the kitchen and going to bed. 3) The results are bloody great. I mixed them into the mushroom pasta above, and a choir of Italian ancestors appeared in my living room to hum sweetly as my husband and I snarfed it down like starved wolves.

Cheddar Cheese Risotto - Imagine what would happen if creamy Arborio rice had sex with mac n' cheese. Now imagine it some more. Keep imagining....I'm not going to tell you it's wrong.

Caramel Croissant Pudding - Are we back to dessert already? Imagine that. Forget food porn, just reading the name of this thing put me in a tailspin. After all those years of turning my nose up at the notion of English puddings, I realized that I'm a big dumb dork. I now have a new outlook: I don't trust people who don't like dogs, or this pudding. Because who wouldn't adore being handed a bowl of this? No one I can hang out with long, I assure you.

And as for the fried Twinkie, I'm defending it as a genius publicity stunt. Got her on Oprah. Beat that.

Sazerac Theatre

2009-03-07T20:57:00.000-08:00

Yesterday as a colleague and I enjoyed a walk downtown in the gorgeous sun and dry weather, he asked me if ever I'd had a Sazerac. He's a big fan, I'm a big fan, and this delicious drink is definitely enjoying the huge resurgence in popularity it deserves after being relatively obscure in most parts of the US for ages. For this, we have to thank the group of many new "bar chefs" revolutionizing the cocktail world, most of whom at one point have worked in the bartending captial of the country and home of the Saz, New Orleans.

There are over a dozen videos on YouTube to teach you to mix it, all of them featuring a fairly hefty history lesson -- it's the George Washington of cocktails after all. This is the best one I found, once you get past the intro. Cheers!

Michelle Obama: Lovin' America with Risotto

2009-03-06T08:35:00.000-08:00

The IFA blog posted a piece this morning on the state of the American corporate cafeteria. Having worked for the non-profit sector all my career, the thought of having such an employee amenity at my disposal is as foreign as Christmas bonuses or office parties not preceded by the word "potluck."

Even so, IFA makes a great point. How can we even pretend to care about the quality of the meals we feed kids in public schools when most corporate cafeterias - the Beemer of high-volume lunchrooms - sell adults swill smothered in cheese? My observation has been that European companies do an amazing job of offering cafeterias with impressive food - a truth illustrated by the change that happened when my husband's Dutch employer was bought out by an American company last fall. Literally overnight, the employee cafeteria food went from fresh fish grilled to order to coagulated meatloaf sitting under a heat lamp. And the meatloaf was more expensive.

I was inspired by another news item this morning that occurred in a cafeteria setting most consider to be even below the standards of a public school: Michelle Obama volunteered at a soup kitchen in DC yesterday. Rather than serve their usual menu, she brought with her mushroom risotto and broccoli from the White House kitchen. That kind of respect for how we nourish other people's bodies and spirits in even the most basic of ways isn't the norm, which favors efficiency, convenience, and cost containment. This makes me like Michelle even more.

Lighter Reds with Moves

2009-03-05T20:17:00.000-08:00

You know how you're always buying the same little black dress over and over again ... only to realize that your prized new booty has 7 clones to cavort with in the closet? Or maybe it's the same black turtleneck or snakeskin fuchsia clutch (my, my, I can't imagine who would do THAT). Whatever form it takes, when we really like something we tend to fall for it again and again. This is a rut, people, and it can even happen with wine.

My honey and I are a New World, fruit forward couple. I know that's awfully personal, but it's true. So we often end up lugging home more than a few bottles of big, sexy, fruit bomb wine, only to wonder why we never have anything to go with the veggie pizza I like on a weeknight. We finally got wise a few months ago and started reigning ourselves in at the wine store...FOCUS! We need light reds! Bold whites! Step AWAY from the Shiraz and Barolos!

Alas, the trick to any rehab program is finding a few solid standbys that work over the long haul. Here are two we've begun to warm up to:

Makor Merlot, Bien Nacido Vineyards, Santa Barbara County "Westside," CA - Aside from the obviously cool gangland terroir, Makor isn't your average soft, flabby Merlot. Tea, tar, chocolate, and black cherries with great structure and balance have me all over it.

Graziano Zinfandel 2005, Mendocino, CA - Some wines are just totally drinkable and delicious, and this is one of them. It's filled with red fruit, white pepper, and smoke, so it's ideal with anything grilled.

Sexy Vocab 101

2009-03-04T20:06:00.000-08:00

My brilliant friend Janet forwarded me a new word that I love so much, I have to share it. Art, wine and literary geeks, rejoice with me.

vinaceous - \vye-NAY-shus\
adjective

Meaning
: of the color of red wine

Example Sentence

Matisse's The Red Studio painting at MOMA is a moving example of a vinaceous interior that seems to fill the entire gallery with its vibrancy.

Cue the Civic Minded Cake Consumption!

2009-03-04T15:22:00.000-08:00

Today is Chicago's 172nd birthday, and I can't imagine she's ever looked or tasted better.

I mean seriously.... We have a sparkling, gorgeous lakefront; a twinkly Bean in Millennium Park; and the Art Institutes' absolutely stunning Modern Wing opening in a matter of months (wink, wink, nudge, nudge), and that's just within a few square city blocks. We have Grant Achatz and Michael Carlson keeping the entire culinary world guessing what's next. We have dozens of home-grown boutiques dedicated exclusively to shockingly exotic truffles, gourmet cupcakes, and organic cookies for dogs. We even have cult-status gourmet cocktail bars so rarefied, no one can get into them. Oh, yes, and there's certain former Senator in the White House, and a very promising bid for the Olympics brewing.

So I don't want to hear any boohooing about the economy or the weather today, people! Today, I want to see cake and candles and puppies frolicking. May I suggest something luscious from Sweet Mandy B's on the way home? Or a cocktail named for our fair city?

Chicago Cocktail
A classic after-dinner drink from the city of big shoulders

2 oz. Brandy
1 oz. Champagne
Dash of Angostura Bitters
Dash Triple Sec

Use a cocktail glass with a sugar rim (make by rubbing a lemon around the rim and then dipping in powdered sugar). Then combine ingredients (except the champagne) in a shaker with ice. Shake well and strain into the glass. Finally, add the champagne.

The Clueless Urban Farm Chick

2009-03-03T19:46:00.000-08:00

Last Christmas, I decided 2009 is my year to plant a rooftop garden. Maybe it was reading the Blue Zones book, which told that me that planting any garden is one of the healthiest things a homo sapien can do to grow old gracefully. Maybe Mayor Daley (aka Mayor Flowerpot) and his Green Mafia finally got to me. But more than likely it was the crap tomatoes at the grocery store. That, and the fact that I have a 900 square foot rooftop deck that I share with only my husband and a Chihuahua. I'm a lucky girl, and there's definitely room up there for a few veggies to take root.

I definitely want herbs. I definitely want tomatoes. I know there's going to be some big containers with some nice, happy dirt. Aside from that, I'm clueless. Ironically, my family has owned a company that has sold horticultural products to garden centers for over 20 years, so...it seems like some knowledge by osmosis should kick in. But there's something that feels so different about an urban rooftop environment at the 41st North latitude. It's not a greenhouse in the Rocky Mountains.

What I have learned from the past two summers on the roof is that it's exposed to blazing hot sun and some occasionally fierce wind over the relatively short Chicago growing season. I need hearty stuff that can take full sun.

All forms of advice are welcome. So far, I'm starting to study up with the Mayor's green roof guide. I can just picture him sleeping with a copy of it under his pillow, dreams of radishes dancing in his sweaty head.

Jugo Verde for the Soul

2009-03-02T19:52:00.000-08:00

We returned last night from a perfect long weekend in Mexico to... well, the regularly scheduled Chicago winter starring sleet, snow, and their cranky bed mistress, the blahs. Ay carumba, I miss the Yucatan. By the time I trudged my way into work this morning, I wanted to smash my computer with a hammer. Instead I settled for a cup of tea and scratched at my itchy, sunburned shoulders.

What would cure this funk is a nice tall glass of the happiness I discovered on the brunch buffet Saturday morning - jugo verde. After chugging my third or fourth glass of its delightfully sweet, green goodness, I realized that I 1) felt awesome, and 2) had no idea what it was. Exotic tropical fruit? No, mamacita. Turns out it's simply jucified parsley, maybe with a little pineapple juice mixed in. That's it. I could actually spelunk into the depths of a cabinet right now, dig out my juicer and whip up a batch of the stuff tonight.

In Chicago. Where my soul has once again become encased in a layer of icy winter discontent.

Back Monday

2009-02-26T16:46:00.000-08:00

I'm on vacation for a long weekend. See you Monday!

Ash Wednesday Confession Box

2009-02-25T15:14:00.000-08:00

I guess since it's Ash Wednesday, I'm feeling a little confessional. Either that, or too much Facebook.

1. I'm not watching Top Chef this season, even though I relish it and have developed a crush on Colicchio. (Bald men are my thing. Food is my thing. You do the math.) I guess I just needed a break from all the lust... not to mention Padma and Gail who are shifty, uncharming creatures.

2. I can't eat anything called a pastie. Forget it.

3. The worst thing I ever put in my mouth was a gritty Polish duck soup at my friend's mother's house on Easter. She invited me to break bread with her family on the high holiest of Catholic holidays, and all I can remember thinking is that that soup is what the waiters serve in hell.

4. I have consumed orange Swedish caviar from a tube and enjoyed it.

5. Usually when I see a beautiful gourmet cupcake, I wish I could just lick off all the frosting and be done with it.

6. I'm a terrible baker because I modify every recipe I get my hands on, and I'm impatient as hell.

7. The only reason I went out with my husband on our first date was because he invited me to Le Colonial. He sensed this immediately and will tell you the story in great detail.

8. I love anything invented or perfected by monks: cappuccino, Chimay, Champagne, brandy. I once ran smack into a woolly Trappist monk entering the Panera Bread on Diversey and took it as a definite sign that God was winking at me for this.

9. My mom drank a glass of wine a week when she was pregnant with me. Explains a lot.

10. I once spent a week in my 20s eating nothing but dessert and drinking wine and cocktails. It was seriously fantastic.

This is only fun if you share some now.

BYOB Like a Wine Scion...or This Guy

2009-02-25T10:06:00.000-08:00

Chicago is a great, big, fat awesome city, and I definitely put BYOBs on the list of reasons why. It was a completely foreign concept to me when I moved here 10+ years ago. Drive-thru package liquors? Suuuure. Everyone knows that's a stellar idea for beverage enjoyment while making the roads safer. But the thought of bringing your own wine into a restaurant? It only meant one word to me: corkage.

My friend Don, of the French Laundry fretting below, is presenting a BYO Basics class on Thursday, March 12th, at his shop Just Grapes on Washington. You should go. Why? Because, as he astutely points out, our city has literally hundreds of BYOs, and, "We aren't talking second-rate establishments or fly-by-night joints that can't afford a liquor license. These businesses are shining examples of the culinary ingenuity and entrepreneurial spirit of our great city." Places like Schwa, Think Cafe, Coast Sushi, HB, and Bonsoiree. Places we love for letting us trot in with a bottle or two we've been dying to open.

Date: Thursday, March 12th
Time: 6 PM - 7:30 PM
Cost: $25 before March 6th
Place: 560 W. Washington Ave.

Jean Iverson, author of BYOB Chicago, will share BYOB etiquette, a brief history of this restaurant species in Chicago, and other helpful tips for picking your pairing.

Oh, and I'll be there.

When Trotter and Keller Whiff It

2009-02-25T05:19:00.000-08:00

Two friends told me recently about hugely disappointing experiences at restaurants any foodie would have looked forward to for weeks. The first case was a couple we know from Austin who were in town over Valentine's weekend. As former Chicagoans (and one once a sous chef), they couldn't imagine a better way to celebrate than at Charlie Trotter's, so they booked for the first seating that Saturday night. Their verdict? Cold food courses that shouldn't have been and terrible service. The second case was my friend Don, the owner of Just Grapes wine store, who dined at The French Laundry a few days ago with his wife. They were surprised to find it so lacking that they actually spoke to the general manager after the meal.

Most Americans have much bigger problems at the moment, but it is an enormous letdown when you've earmarked the cash - and in both of these cases, booked the flights - to make a pilgrimage to a sacred temple of gastronomy for naught. Terrible service and dumb food mistakes just shouldn't happen in some places, and if they do, they should be addressed by the management immediately...not in a lukewarm apology on the way out.

Naturally, no diner should passively sit back and watch the suckitude continue. As a waiter, I always appreciated the guests who swiftly, quietly, and respectfully told me exactly what it was that had just ticked them off so that I could correct or make up for it on the spot. You can't imagine the things I'd produce for these kind people, with the blessing of my manager.

As for the distasteful jerks, chronic complainers, and people who claim to have received 2+ bottles of corked wine? They are haters who deserve whatever circle of dining hell they land in.

Review: Farmerie 58

2009-02-23T08:57:00.000-08:00

Out of the crop of newer restaurants, Farmerie 58's rich seasonal menu looked like one of the more promising. For Restaurant Week, my husband and I tried their prix fixe lunch menu yesterday, in spite of their recent chef drama and our still lingering wedding-bash hangovers. I'm glad we did. It's a study in understated luxury, and our experience there was terrific.

For first impressions, Farmerie's bistro has one of the most beautiful rooms in the area... cozy Asian chic with a generous dose of retro Modernism. I instantly wanted to return at night to see it glowing. Even so, the crowd was mostly casual 30- and 40-somethings enjoying lazy Sunday lunches. We appreciated the relaxed vibe and settled sleepily into our seats.

I woke up when I tasted what I think is a mark of a good restaurant: the butter. A place that's taken care to give you excellent bread and butter is rising above and beyond, and this little dream...had...truffle oil whipped into it. After my giggly endorphin-high subsided, I grabbed the waiter and pointed, "Um. This butter. Has. Truffle oil in it. Who's idea was that?" Convinced he was probably dealing with some sort of addict, he grinned and said politely, "That would likely be our executive chef." Note: New chef Nathan Kosakowski is keeper. Waiter is adorable.

We started with the lobster bisque and butternut squash volute. I surprisingly preferred the squash for it's unusually fresh, genuine flavor with only a touch of sweetness. The seasonal menu was heavy on red meat and chicken - not a plus for a pescatarian, but the waiter agreed they could easily modify the Salmon BLT for me. I loved that it was served on obviously homemade sliced, light rye bread, about the size of a sandwich your grandmother would make. (Remember RDA portions? So quaint, I know.) It was packed with flavor, and sitting next to a mountain of truffled pomme frites that I wanted to stuff into my handbag. Finally, our desserts, mine a perfectly executed ginger creme brulee, his a new-school innovative bread pudding - light and soft in texture - topped with drizzly caramel popcorn. It was a playful flavor/texture combination, and I hope they'll encourage more risks like this on the menu.