Category: Food and Drink

  • Not So Neat

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    I’ll take the highlands, you take the neat fee…

    This is ridiculous and embarassing. A “neat fee”? You pay for the ounces of liquor poured, not the amount of room in the glass.

    Scotch drinkers who enjoy their malt neat (of which I am one) expect a smaller portion, an unassuming golden slip of elixer in the bottom of the glass. If you’re up-charging to give us a bigger portion of booze to make the glass look fuller, well thanks, but you don’t understand Scotch or the people who drink it.

    Neat is not a cocktail, it’s not a version of the bastardized Martini. It’s a simple matter of delivery, that’s all. It would be interesting to see if they had ordered a scotch on the rocks as well … I wonder if they would have seen a “rocks fee”?

  • V-Day #2

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    And then there’s this…the most romantic, best way to show someone how much you love them is by cooking a meal together.

    Turn off the TV, put on some good music, pour a couple hefty glasses of wine, and roll up your sleeves. The converstations that happen while you’re chopping onions will never be the same ones you have in a restaurant, at home you can talk in your socks. That’s intimacy.

    Splashy overtures, like horse-drawn carriages and names written by sky-writers, can be thrilling, yes, but tend to fade quickly. Keeping someone’s wine glass full and offering them a taste of the sauce from the pan are moments of generosity that tell of a good soul.

    There’s something about the sizzle and warmth of a kitchen, the heart of the house, that allows you to be real, to let down your guard and invite others in. Cooking together, each adding something to the meal, is the way to build a real life, one that lasts beyond the flash and hype of Feb 14.

    If you’re game, and it’s your virginal attempt in the kitchen with your Someone, a few tips:

    Have a Plan … You will have to shop ahead of time, so make sure you know what you have on hand, and what you need to find. Know the recipe.

    Don’t Go Overboard … If your specialty is grilled cheese sandwiches, don’t try to attempt a lobster souffle. Stay within your comfort zone, but try to upgrade.

    Fresh is Best … “Luxury” items like truffles, lobster and foie gras can be a treat, but fresh accessible food is just as elegant if you do it right. A lovely apple tart is as beautiful as any chocolate concoction you can make.

  • V-Day #1

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    ain’t happenin’ …

    Valentine’s Day is an odd holiday for the restaurant industry. Yes, it’s a money maker, but most of the reservations are two-tops. And you can bet that your walk-in traffic will be next to nothing. And then there’s the fact that you will be working the holiday, so your spouse, ahem, will have to suck it up.

    But I am a purist, celebrate the holiday ON the holiday, meaning dinner reservations should be on Wednesday. And if you ask me, mid-week dining is the best anyway: fresher chefs, less crowded, not as many drunk people. Many restaurants will be creating special menus, so it’s a great opportunity to see something creative from our local bunch.

    Vincent’s five course tasting menu features poached guinea hen and lobster ravioli.

    I’d be all over the pumpkin-lavender chevre tart at Heartland.

    W.A. Frost does tasting menus every night anyway, as does La Belle Vie.

    I don’t know if there are any tickets left, but you have to buy in advance for Solera’s V-Day gig which includes an eight course tasting menu and entertainment.

    Don’t worry, if you’re one of those who doesn’t buy into all of the pink-smothered traditions of Feb 14, there’s a place for you: Joe’s Garage is hosting a Surly V-Day in conjunction with Surly Ale. They “invite the cynical people to drink through their angst with bargain basement prices…” and indulge in specially priced blue-plate specials. You’ll have to call, as their website’s events page isn’t updated … which makes me surly.

  • Parked

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    I have a semi-quiet Saturday ahead of me so I’m a little excited to park myself at the kitchen computer with a steamy cup of French Roast and a slice of pumpkin bread while I catch-up with my food writer reading…

    TONY rules, does he not? And thank goodness Michael Ruhlman allows him space to rant about all the gloriously eeeewy things on the Food Network.

    Have we spoken of Orangette? Or have I been keeping that one for myself? I have to admit I am a little bit in love with Seattle Molly. And she’s one of the good bloggers who actually deserves the book deal she’s got cookin’.

    I’ve been meaning to get the whole story on the Annie’s vs. Kraft mac n’ cheese discussion on Megnut. It’s a hot topic in my house because the kids sneak the Spongebob adorned Kraft boxes into my cart when I’m not looking, and they find Annie’s to be OK, but how do you fight crack-laced Spongebob?

    I am seriously delinquent on my Grub Street patronage.

    The re-design of Chowhound/CHOW mag has had loyalists in a quite a twist. I haven’t had time to really dig.

  • Feelin' Fishy

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    Are you a land lubber or a sea lubber? Or do you actively lub both, as I do?

    Well, according to the National Oceanic & Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) even though there was a slight decrease in seafood consumption in 2005, we spent $65.2 billion on seafood products, a $3 billion rise over 2004.

    We were hungry enough to consume 4.8 billion pounds of seafood in ’05, and are the third largest consumers, behind China and Japan, of course.

    Per person, the average amount eaten over the year was 16.2 pounds, and 25% of that was shrimp! Shrimp is king, and ’05 exports reached a 10 year high of 95.5 million pounds.

    Canned tuna consumption dropped a touch, which is too bad because I’m beginning to expand my horizons on canned tuna, and what can be wrought from a beautiful canned fish.

    I love the NOAA. The agency began 200 years ago with the establishment of the Survey of the Coast by Thomas Jefferson in 1807. With the formation of the Weather Bureau and the Commission of Fish and Fisheries in the 1870’s, plenty of science that we know today began with the NOAA. Plus, whenever there’s a hurricane, they have the coolest pictures.

    And now I’m hungry for fish tonight. So I might thaw some scallops I have in the freezer if I’m feeling lazy, but more likely I’ll pop down to Coastal and see what looks good. A bright and sharp tuna ceviche might be just the ticket to cut through the ridiculous perma-chill.

  • Unsung Heroes of Beer

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    Yesterday, I spent a few delicious hours as a judge for the Town Hall Brewery’s Chili Cook-Off. There were definitely interesting ingredients used in some of the dishes: zucchini, venison, curry, cocoa. Challenging the very definition of chili was one dish with a cream base and another that consisted solely of beef cubes and sauce, no beans, nothing else. Sadly, there were no entries that could be called blow-up-my-membranes hot, as I was gleefully expecting. I know we’re Minnesotans, but come on people! Can you really find any other folks more deserving of fiery foods than those willing to venture out on a briskly -4 degree day?

    I think of myself as a chili traditionalist, but I have to reward the innovators. I gave the dish that used cocoa powder high marks because, What A Pleasing Surprise!

    The bigger surpise was the Town Hall Brewery itself. Even though it is located in the Seven Corners area, it’s not your average slimy-floored college bar. It’s smart and comfortable and above all, a kick-ass brewery.

    While I was waiting for the tasting to begin, I was introduced to a seasonal beer named Retreating Darkness (points for that). Brewed with Peace Coffee (more points), this American black ale has the darkness of a stout with all the rich aromas and java overtones, without being a full meal. I could never have had a Guiness while sampling 18 chilis, but the two pints of Retreating Darkness served me well. Maybe that’s why I liked the cocoa laced chili so much, it complemented my beer perfectly.

    More points for Town Hall:

    1. They do this chili thing (on a smaller scale) every Sunday night. For a measly $6, you get a pint of beer and all the chili you can eat. Sounds like a perfect Sunday Night Blues beater to me.

    2. Humble and diligent (admirable qualities in a brew-pub), the brew boys are serious about crafting the best beers around. Don’t just take my word for it, take the word of the judges from the Great American Beer Festival.

    3. Although you can’t buy bottles from your local liquor store, you can buy a big jug of beer, known as a growler, directly from the bar. And it’s cheaper when you bring it back for a refill.

    I don’t know, maybe a growler full of Retreating Darkenss and a scorching bowl of chili could be the ultimate Valentine’s Day dinner set-up.

  • Top Chef Finale

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    So Ilan is Top Chef, Marcel is the fool.

    Meh.

    Each chef had to prepare their version of The Perfect Meal. The food looked tasty enough, most of it sounded yummy, and yet.

    Ilan touted his passion for food, his ability to cook from the heart but I just don’t believe him. He knows that is what he is supposed to say and he turns out his food like he’s reading cheat-sheets written up his arm. How do you walk between a cuisine’s traditions and innovations? I think I would have liked something that said ILAN. Although I can’t help but think of him as a sniggering Muttley in the corner as he plots his next frat-boy insult.

    Marcel has stupid hair. He wants to play in the big sandbox, but kids with stupid hair will always be The Kid With Stupid Hair. He admires and works toward emulating some of the most creative food minds in the world and yet isn’t humble enough to see beyond the recipe, the technique. And the fact that he blamed the missing Kampachi on his helpers, without taking any top-side ownership shows a deep level of fear and self-doubt. Not so inspiring in a kitchen.

    Of all the contestants, I admired Sam the most. For his maturity, his hunger for knowledge, his sense of taste, and his humility, he will be well sought in the coming years. Plus did you see Padma almost lose it when she had to cut him? I think she loves him.

    For a sharper take on the contestants, there’s no one like Tony.

  • McWow

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    Maybe it’s because they’re just too McSkinny in Japan.
    Maybe it’s because they have a history of readily accepting improbable, huge monsters.
    Maybe it’s because they love restaurants with a toilet theme.

    Whatever it is, Japan is getting the Mega Mac.

    If that freaks you, wait until you find out what the hell Grimace actually is.

  • Three Dozen

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    Today is my birthday.

    Looking back, the past year held various cooking victories: the ice cream follies of the summer (basil/lemon, chocolate/zinfandel, strawberry/balsamic, Guiness, sake/cucumber sorbet)…a few good looking loaves of ciabatta, and one really ugly but tasty boule … the perfect Stephanie pizza (pesto, prosciutto, arugula, and egg cracked on top) … a five layer cake that looked exactly like a giant Crabby Patty … oh there must be more.

    There have been some failures as well, like Thanksgiving dinner. I never told you about that? Huh.

    But tonight nobody has to cook, and everybody has been asking where I want to spend my birthday dinner.

    There are so many great options. I’d love a quiet evening at Restaurant Alma, so simply elegant. And if I hadn’t had sushi on Friday, I would be parked at BaGu Sushi, my new raw fish favorite. We could jazz it up and go to The Oceanaire, because three dozen oysters for three dozen years would seem quite appropriate to me. If it were just me, I’d snag a seat at the 112 Eatery bar and selfishly order for three.

    But it’s not just me. It is the six-pack that comprises my family and it is a Monday and it is freakin’ cold outside (as it always is). So it may not be fancy, or cutting edge, but we are heading to the LT tonight, where a worthy and luscious double California cheeseburger will grace my little paper plate. Topped off with softy fries and 1919 Rootbeer from the tap, this soul satisfying meal will happily kick-off the next 364.

  • Red Heat from Spain

    I have often thought that the Forty Martyrs of Sebasteia should be the patron saints of Minnesota. Never mind that they are most likely mythical; they can stand for all the other martyrs the Romans executed in the first three centuries A.D. And the myth is certainly appropriate to our chilly state.
    The Forty, it is said, were Roman legionaries serving on the Empire’s Euphrates frontier in what is now eastern Turkey when they were given the command to offer sacrifice to the Roman gods. When they refused, they were ordered to stand out in the middle of a frozen lake ’til they changed their minds. One of them did actually give way, legging it to the shore and then to a nearby bathhouse, which had been fired up by the detachment’s commanding officer in order to provide an allurement to apostasy. He promptly exploded. And the bathhouse keeper no less promptly ran out onto the ice to make the number of martyrs back up to forty. What then? Crowns, of course, descended from heaven onto the martyrs’ frozen heads, to the accompaniment of unearthly music and the crashing applause of the first-night audience. Martyrdom on Ice: If Minnesota doesn’t like the title, you could try it on Broadway.
    An appropriate saintly patron is also apparently being sought for the Internet. The heavenly protector of Al Gore’s invention will probably be Saint Isidore, bishop of Seville in southern Spain in the early seventh century, and compiler of a work that swiftly became the medieval equivalent of Wikipedia. The Internet and Isidore surely deserve each other; Isidore’s Etymologies are replete with secondhand information, difficult to navigate, and often inaccurate. While the Internet …
    What Isidore says about wine, for instance, is a characteristic blend of the derivative, the unpalatable, and the obvious. He alludes to Falernian, the famous sweet white wine from ancient Campania, which he had read about in Roman authors like Horace but is hardly likely to have savored himself. Beverages he is more likely to have actually sampled sound rather less pleasant—for instance, Oenomelum, a sickly syrup compounded of wine and honey.
    But then, just as you give up on him, Isidore displays a gem of genuine interest. He mentions the wines of Gaza, carried from the Holy Land as ballast in the ships bringing pilgrims home from Jerusalem. This is interesting because archaeologists find the distinctive, dumpy flasks that held Gaza wine at excavations of post-Roman sites all over Western Europe. In fact, they find them as far away as the southern coast of England, where grand beach barbecues seem to have greeted the arrival of merchant ships coming from the eastern Mediterranean. It is good when the written story fits the physical facts. In fact, Gaza wine is important as evidence that Mediterranean trade long survived the end of the Roman Empire, until the Arab invasions swept through the lands east and south of the Mediterranean, reaching, within a century of his death, southern Spain where Isidore had lived and written.
    Funnily enough, Isidore has nothing to say about the wines of his native Spain. It seems that they were no better publicized in the seventh century than they are now. That may be why they are such an excellent value when you do find them.
    Try, for instance, the 2004 vintage of Protocolo, which costs less than seven dollars hereabouts. This wine comes from the high plains of La Manchuela in the bottom right-hand corner of Spain, an area with extremes of climate that the Forty Martyrs would have found familiar. The color is a deepest red, like the workers’ flag (which shrouded oft our martyred dead)—this area was a stronghold of the International Brigades during the Spanish Civil War. The grape is the Tempranillo, the variety made famous by Rioja, but Protocolo is innocent of the turpsy oak associated with those famous wines. This is a well-balanced and fruity wine with a firm scrunch in the center of the taste. This was pleasing with a piece of steak and tasted just as good with pasta. One can imagine it accompanying paella. At that price one could even mull it with suitable spices. If you do, be careful not to boil off the alcohol (there’s plenty). Anything to keep winter at a distance.