The Rake Magazine

Here's what happened. Mitch Omer -- one of my dearest friends in this world -- showed up at my house on Thanksgiving with a red-lined version of Andrew Zimmern's December column, livid about some of the things it contained. Mitch railed. I defended Andrew on many points. We got into a bit of a tiff, which we worked out in about 30 seconds over a nice Cabernet. Then we moved on.

Before leaving my house, Mitch asked if my editors at The Rake might be interested in publishing his thoughts. I said they might, he should send. So he did and they did and Mitch's funny, blasphemous and hugely popular Ode to a Sycophant was published early on the morning of December 27.

Later that same day -- around noon, according to the time stamp -- Andrew's Chow & Again appeared responding not to Mitch but to me, referencing a desultory, down-home Top Ten list I'd posted in large part to make a point about these lists being rather ridiculous: subjective, random, and, in most cases, designed to show off what the reviewer knows or where he's been.

Zimmern wrote:

Bauer is a very good writer, more of a craftsperson than I will ever be—I am more of a hack. But reading [Breaking Bread] throughout the last month and finally seeing Bauer’s piece touring us through the highlights of her year of eating was the biggest buzz kill of my day. Sample Room? Kinhdo? Coffee News Cafe? Pizza Luce? Atlas Grill? Anne, you need to get out and eat more!

Now, put aside the fact that he misspelled my name repeatedly [note: most, but not all, of these errors have since been corrected, no doubt by MSP's fact checkers] as well as the confusion about why Andrew happened to be on our site reading and what he actually was upset about. . . .

There are a few things I'd like to clarify. (Though in truth, I feel as if I've been clarifying them for years, and it's getting pretty damn old.) First off, I AM NOT A FOODIE. I am a food writer who also writes about literature, film, art, culture, history, religion, health, and politics. I often tie these things in, because I believe that food while central to existence should not be central to life. (It's a fine distinction, I know, but one which I hold strongly.) My 2005 Salon essay "Food Slut" described my position as a food writer -- and, by the way, resulted in a truly delightful turn on Zimmern's now-defunct radio show, Chowhounds -- and I posted a blog just a couple weeks ago restating it.

Second, in order to get a rise out of Andrew Zimmern -- let's face it -- I'd have to eat great-spotted lizard eggs or suck down the testicles of an endangered wildebeest. This is a man who travels the world and masticates things I believe should be left to evolve in the wild. . . .or, rarely and only for the sake of study, housed happily inside the glass walls of a terrarium. Not my bag, and how it informs an audience of viewers in Indianapolis or Billings about what to eat, I just cannot parse.

This brings up another point: I will never knowingly eat food that involved the torture of animals -- or the exploitation of people -- in its production. This means no foie gras (which I absolutely love) unless someone can assure me the fowl that donated their livers never had their feet nailed to the floor and grain poured through a tube down their throats. Not even in pursuit of the perfect meal. Never.

Finally, Zimmern suggests The Rake should send me out with more money to dine and runs a list of his own, which includes:

Patricia Quintana week at Masa

Heartland on principle and because I love the ‘everything from scratch’ vibe.

Foie terrine at Cosmos

Sautéed fish with pickled vegetables at The Teahouse

Quail with pineapple at 20.21 . . . and brunch as well—the smoked salmon alone is worth it.

Almost anything at Peninsula

Morton’s for a salad, a steak, and some creamed spinach

Oysters at Oceanaire

Striped bass at Alma

Everything I ever ate at La Belle Vie, and each time I go there, it gets better and better.

Mussels and a wedge of pate at the bar at Vincent

Homestyle tofu at Little Szechuan

Lunch at Que Nha—you can’t go wrong.

Passion fruit and chocolate dessert insanity at Chambers, and its truffle pizza and the ridiculously good galangal dipping sauce

Punch Pizza

What I find puzzling is this: Why is his pick of Punch Pizza somehow superior to my predilection for Pizza Lucé? And how is that tofu at Little Szechuan hits a higher mark of sophistication than tofu at Kinhdo?

As it happens, I did go to Vincent this past year and I was disappointed (heartbreakingly so, for the first time ever, in both the food and the service) which is why the restaurant didn't make my list. I love the food at 20.21, always have, but am so fatigued by the noise level it downgrades the dining experience for me. I'm long on record as loving Oceanaire, but as a former East Coaster I prefer to eat my fresh shellfish, er, fresh and by the sea. I went to the Chambers this year and, to be blunt, the décor there gives me the willies, making it tough for me to enjoy my food. And I have been perplexed by Masa -- the brightness, the weird layout, the ersatz Chihuly light fixtures, and the high-priced pedestrian fare -- since the day it landed on the Nicollet Mall.

As for Heartland, I adore the restaurant, the wine bar, and the owner, Lenny Russo -- with whom I am under contract to write a cookbook about his "everything from scratch" philosophy. I am there often and have written about Russo's cuisine as recently as December 5.

I am, moreover, a synesthete, which means my senses intertwine. I see sounds in color, I taste emotions and can identify the flavors of wind, thunder, sun, and rain. Along with this heightened sensitivity goes a tendency to evaluate factors other food crtics might not. If there is a scent coming from the kitchen that does not cohere with my meal, I will be unable to separate the experiences. One wine I tasted recently brought to mind the memory of kissing a baby's sweet, sweaty neck. A dish like the vegetable salad at the Sample Room, which was on my original list, delights me because it is simple and triangulated: cool greens, warm winter gourds, oily dressing. To me, it evokes hay fields and full October moons, lacy, gray clouds scudding across the darkening sky.

In other words, a good, hot black bean burrito with goat cheese and homemade corn salsa in a clean, bright lake-facing room after a long motorcycle ride is going to make me happier than all the pomp and whipped beef foam and jangling table service in the world.

As for Zimmern's charge that he goes out more and has a bigger expense account: True and true. (So, so true. . . .) My bet is that he dines out 8 to 15 times a week (and is known by the proprietors in 90 percent of these cases), while I go maybe four times and am treated the same way, uh, YOU might be. If there is any limit on Zimmern's budget -- which I doubt -- it's probably still ten times the one I share with Jeremy Iggers to do this blog. One reason for that is that The Rake has less money to throw around because they let us say absolutely anything we think, without regard to how it will affect advertisers, which is what I call journalism.

But we're not here to debate the flimsy firewalls at Minnesota's lifestyle magazines.

Here's the truth. I enjoy Andrew Zimmern -- a lot. I think he's funny and smart and raucous and, for that matter, just darn cute. What other middle-aged man do you know who can get away with wearing a suit and red Converse shoes? But it's never occurred to me that we were competing for audience share. His show is grand and opulent. He travels the world on someone's full-service jet. He has been shown in the pages of his own magazine sitting in his huge, perfectly-decorated, and photogenic home.

I, on the other hand, am a woman more like you. A little younger than he and definitely less monied. I live in a little St. Louis Park house that no one is going to feature in a magazine, but I love it because there usually are six or seven teenagers draped over the living room couch. I have a talent for writing and for tasting and if I don't quite have Zimmern's globe-trotting flair, I think of myself as serving a different constituency altogether: people like myself and my husband, hardworking professionals and parents for whom a night out at Restaurant Alma (the one place where my list and Zimmern's overlapped) is a profound and rare treat.

The way I think of it is this: When Andrew's followers go out to eat, they talk about the food. But mine? I'm hoping that you, like I, enjoy the meal but discuss more important things. Whether there is a God. What your 16-year-old's curfew should be. Philip Roth's latest Zuckerman novel and whether he is the last great Jewish male writer extant.

Here's one more thing you should know: I'm not, depite the way I may posture, a cynic. And neither is my colleague, Jeremy Iggers, which is one of the many things I love about working with him. Both of us bring a strong ethical approach to food, and a reverence, if you will, for the fact that we're surrounded by riches. Restaurants needn't be brand-new or lushly carpeted or habituated by the so-called "beautiful people" and visiting starlets to impress the two of us.

We're big fans of the long-standing Minnesota restaurateurs who've been in operation for years, chefs who care about the provenance of the food they prepare, and establishments — both haute cuisine and casual — where diners receive exactly the same high level of service no matter what their color, dress, or station in life.

Which reminds me: I forgot to add Milda's Cafe on Glenwood Avenue to my original top ten list. It's not going to appear on anyone else's, I guarantee you. But I had one of the most pleasant and inspiring lunches of my life in this little box of a place. I watched people walk in and be greeted by name: black, white, elderly singles, and families with small children. It was as happy and warm and welcoming as anywhere I've been. And more to the point of this blog, I had an entire plate of American Fries — diced, golden, grilled potatoes mixed with crisp shards of green pepper and perfect little curls of fried onion — for about three bucks.

It may not be Morton's, Andrew. But the company at Milda's was wonderful. The conversation was uplifting. And the food? Amazing.

Still haven't decided where to go for New Years Eve? Besides the usual suspects, and the places I wrote about last week in Part I the options range from free champagne and hors d'oeuvres at midnight at the new Driftwood Char Bar, three- and five-course options at First Course, and a seven-course gastronomic blowout at North Coast in Wayzata.

The Driftwood recently opened in the former Westrum's Tavern space at 44^th and Nicollet Ave. S., Minneapolis, which closed last spring after the city pulled its liquor license. The new joint seemed to have some of the same spirit and clientele, but a mellower mood. Flyers at the Driftwood promise complimentary champagne and hors d'oeuvres at midnight, but if you want something more substantial, you can order ff the menu, which sticks to basic tavern fare: burgers, sandwiches, chicken wings, home-cut French fries, and a first-rate homemade macaroni and cheese ($5.25, with a side of steamed broccoli). Driftwood Char Bar, 612-354-3402.

The menu at North Coast starts with five courses for $55, including poached cold water lobster tail, with braised artichoke and rapini ratatouille; mushroom and fresh ricotta "cheesecake;" Thai curry glazed king salmon with coconut seared spaghetti squash; prime Angus filet mignon, and a dark chocolate crème brulee, but if you really want to put on the dog, you can add the flight of five selected wines for $25, and optional courses of American Sevruga caviar and Schramsberg blanc de noir champagne ($35), and an intermezzo of French foie gras medallion with pear flambé and ice wine reduction ($20). If that's a little too rich for your blood, a limited selection from the North Coast's regular menu will be available a la carte (entrees $16-$34).
North Coast, 294 E. Grove Lane, Wayzata, 952-475-4960.

The three course prix-fixe at First Course starts with Norwegian smoked salmon wih frisee and salmon roe; followed by Thousand Hills short ribs with tallegio potato gratin, and a chocolate trio of raspberry terrine, fallen cake and truffle for dessert - all for $40, plus $20 if you select the accompanying flight of three wine and glass of champagne. The five-course version, which costs $60, adds a carpaccio of foie gras with miso and Japanese truffle sauce, and braised pork belly with herbed polenta; add $30 more if you want the flight of five wines and champagne. Reservations recommended.
First Course, 5607 Chicago Ave., Minneapolis, 612-825-6900.

So. I was at the Jewish Community Center on Christmas Day — along with what appeared to be every other fitness-minded non-Christian in the western metro — on the elliptical trainer, reading Self magazine, when I ran across an article entitled The Great Sex Diet. And out of a deep sense of professional responsibility, I read.

This was no small task. It was a very lengthy treatise that included not only food advice, but a list of "myths" about aphrodisiacs, the testimony of a sex expert, and (oddly, I thought) the intensely personal thoughts of the author — an online novelist (?) named Valerie Frankel — who had tried all the recommended techniques with her husband, as well as a blow-by-blow account of exactly how each one worked out.

Unlike most magazine articles, however, this one failed to provide any useful, scannable information in the form of a handy-dandy bullet-pointed list. Rather, the advice was buried in and amongst details none of us needs to know. So in order to save you the pain and embarrassment of reading the entire article for yourself, I'm going to do here what I think the editor at Self should have done for her readership.

If you want to have better sex, try eating:

Almonds and Walnuts -- they're high in arginine, an amino acid the body uses to make nitric oxide, which in turn opens blood vessels and allows them to expand

Salmon, Cod and Halibut -- also contain arginine, plus omega-3 fatty acids, which may increase both libido and orgasmic intensity

Spinach, Broccoli, Beets, Berries, and Grapes -- because they're high in antioxidants which clean up free radicals and improve general cell health

Dark Chocolate -- also a great source of antioxidants, plus endorphin-raising compounds that enhance circulation

In other words, the very same foods (jeepers!) you should eat to ensure peak cardiovascular function, prevent premature aging, maintain a healthy weight, and build strong hair, bones, fingernails, and teeth. Hmmm. . . .Could it be that healthy living actually leads to better sex? Wow!!! Who in the world could have predicted that?

Apparently not Frankel, who went on (the diet portion was only the first third of the article) to talk about all the fancy supplements she took to increase her level of free testosterone, her always "reliable" clitoris and inadequate G-spot, as well as her use of a device called a GyneFlex that sounded kind of like a Thighmaster for the vagina.

Believe me, you're better off not reading the entire article, in which Frankel talked glibly about giving up cigarettes temporarily in order to improve her circulation so she could orgasm more easily (never mind breathe. . . .) And then she went way, way too far, suggesting that those in search of good sex should give up coffee and alcohol, too. As if being perpetually cranky, tired, and stone cold sober ever did anything for anyone's love life.

Anyhow, culling the two or three paragraphs of useful information from this mess of personal memoir and genital workout routine, I think the message can be distilled down to this:

On your next date night, go out (or stay in), relax, have a glass of red wine; a spinach salad with walnuts and a nice balsamic vinaigrette; a piece of grilled fish; and for dessert, a few squares of 70-80 percent cacao dark chocolate. Then feel free to finish it all off with a good, strong cup of espresso.

This is me talking now and I say go for it, caffeine be damned. Because God willing, you're going to be up until dawn.

Truth to tell, I'm not a big fan of these end-of-year Top Ten lists. They tend, I think, to be both subjective and showy: meaning listmakers record either what's obscurely relevant to them or what will demonstrate their great intellect and breadth of knowledge, or both.

Two years ago, for instance, every book reviewer in America was raving about the Zadie Smith novel On Beauty, which I bought (in hardcover) and tried to bull my way through but could not abide. Then I went back and looked over the articles I'd read; suddenly I realized they sounded remarkably similar to one another. Follow the leader, it seemed to me. Being a fan of the young, beautiful, biracial Smith was simply the style that year.

Please take my list for what it is: a random recollection of my ten most memorable eating experiences of the year, touched by all the emotional, irrational, and regional variables that make one meal sing like a chorus of angels while another -- equally well-prepared -- falls flat.

1. Pizza Lucé -- The Ruby Rae, an upside-down pie with spinach, tomatoes, Italian sausage, and crushed hot peppers, covered in a thick red sauce and sprinkled with parmesan; our favorite takeout meal.
2. The Sample Room -- Roasted Vegetables on Wilted Spinach, a huge plate of greens, warm, hearty roasted vegetables (such as squash or beets), and a balsamic vinaigrette; great for a cold winter night.
3. Kinhdo -- Tofu with Spicy Peppers and Extra Cabbage, a stewlike vegetarian meal over white rice and hot, hot, hot (are you sensing a theme here?); best eaten at home on paper plates.
4. Atlas Grill -- Fire-Roasted Salmon over mixed greens, a simple, nearly untouched piece of fish flashed over fire and served with fresh leaves of arugula, maché, and the like.
5. Restaurant Alma -- Roasted Duck with Baby Brussels Sprouts, as simple and wholesome a meal as I had all year and so fresh, I could have been dining on the farm.
6. W.A. Frost -- Cauliflower and Goat Cheese Soup, a creamy, savory mixture as warm as the crackling fire in the dining room and topped with fresh tomato purée plus a dollop of nutty green pesto.
7. Hell's Kitchen -- Huevos Rancheros, a crisp tortilla layered with hash browns, scrambled eggs, black beans, heaps of cheese, salsa and a big scoop of sour cream; breakfast enough to last you all day.
8. Coffee News -- Carrot Cake, five layers high and covered in cream cheese frosting; this is my occasional indulgence before teaching a night class at Macalester.
9. Lake Avenue Cafe (Duluth) -- Black Bean Burrito, a hot wrap stuffed with beans and feta cheese, served with homemade corn salsa; my standard after the motorcycle trip to the North Shore.
10. Home -- John's Satay, a combination of peanut butter, serrano peppers, and lime juice; nothing tastes better to me on a night when I'm tired, hormonal, or coming down with a cold -- I'll even eat it on popcorn.

And there you have it: a list reflecting my personal tastes (I think it's pretty obvious, I'm partial to spicy food, black beans, and goat cheese) and highlighting a handful of really excellent restaurants, plus my husband's best recipe.

But as I said, "expert" Top Ten lists are by definition self-limiting and narrow. What's important is not what I liked this year but what you did. So. . . what did you eat that you loved in 2007?

I've spent only one Christmas alone — and by "alone," I mean myself and three young kids.

I was recently divorced. My parents were visiting my sister's family in Philadelphia. And my ex-husband, a "recovering" Catholic and practicing alcoholic at the time, had slid into his annual holiday slump. This is how I found myself in a movie theater Christmas Eve, with my three all lined up and feeling — I'm sure — a lot less melancholy about the situation than I.

In fact, they were very good sports. We went home and had frosted pumpkin bars around our kitchen table then separated and went to bed. The next day, we watched a video and stayed in our pajamas until well past noon. Everyone survived. And yet. . . .It was a little lonely. Even for the four of us clustered together in a tight little snow-covered house. Though we had movies and sugary treats to keep us occupied. Despite the fact that we're Jewish, for God's sake!

It is a fact of this ceaselessly commercial and bedecked season that being alone — or even with others but not celebrating — feels odd and empty. Everything is too quiet. Houses are either unoccupied or bursting. All the stores that were jam-packed only 24 hours ago are closed. You can't go to the gym or the library or the mall. Here in Minnesota, it's often too cold even to take a walk.

That's why my family now throws a small party on December 25 for all the people we know who are far from home or sharing kids with an ex-spouse or non-Christians who would ignore the holiday and go to work only their offices are securely closed. (We never give gifts on this day: it's an irrational but deeply-held principle of mine that the only way to buck the mercenary nature of Christmas is simply to opt out.) And in its more profit-conscious but equally merry way, I'm sure, Oceanaire is doing the same — holding a special dinner on Christmas Eve.

They can't announce their specials yet, because chef Rick Kimmes doesn't decide what to feature until the daily fish shipment comes in. But the front of the house is promising a Bing Crosby's White Christmas theme with vintage holiday songs and hot drinks including buttered rum, eggnog, peppermint patties, hot toddies, and a warm Café con Leche martini made of coffee liqueur, vodka, butterscotch schnapps, and heavy cream.

Now granted, this won't solve the problem of single mothers or orphans or elderly shut-ins, but if Charles Dickens taught us one thing with his timeless Ebenezer Scrooge it's that all the money in the world doesn't stop a man from contemplating his own mortaility in a cold bed alone on Christmas. I suggest our local Ebenezers drop off a donation at Sharing and Caring Hands or some other philanthropic organization before stopping in at Oceanaire for crooned carols, warm food, and a good stiff drink.

And just in case you can't make it on Christmas Eve, be assured, all these warm winter concoctions will be available at least throughout the holiday season, until the New Year.

Oceanaire is taking reservations up to 11 p.m. on Christmas Eve, 612-333-2277.