I'm over in the Brookhavenish part of town, which means I've been eyeing the TOWN development warily since construction started (and stopped, and started again). It seems, in lots of ways, like a lint trap for everything I dislike about this part of town -- namely traffic and dude-bros of various ages & levels of entitlement -- but it contains food and also beverages, so I've been exploring parts of it over the past couple months. Some initial impressions:
The movie theater, CineBistro (an swankish version of the dinner-and-a-movie concept) has nice seats, good snacks, and behind-the-times mixed drinks. Try the popcorn calamari -- a mix of well-seasoned popcorn and tender, deep-fried squidbits, the perfect answer to salt cravings and more-than-just-carbs-level hunger during an action flick. Skip the cocktails -- the mojitos are the only ones that don't rely on commercial sour mix, and mine came with wilted mint and stale limes. I'm hoping that they'll improve and expand their drink menu in the future (it's neither difficult nor expensive to squeeze fresh citrus, and it makes a Universe of flavor difference). In the meanwhile, the beer list is short but competent, and I'll be sticking with that. If you're planning on eating, do make sure you arrive at least 30 minutes before showtime to place your order at the bar. And don't bring the kids: This theater is 21 and up.
There Bar is one of the small pubs that's cropped up in Towncenter, and it's my new favorite neighborhood hangout for its casual, friendly atmosphere and small menu of consistently tasty pub fare. The chef, Ryan Hickey, formerly worked for Concentrics' Trois and Bocado, and he's brought those joints' senses of whimsy (and sensibilities about sausage) along with him. If you're carnivorous, ask your server about what meats are in the grinder when you go -- the kitchen's been sourcing a variety of game meats for their burgers and sausage dishes. I haven't had a dish I didn't like, so try what strikes your fancy -- but do go for the garlic rosemary fries on the side. Fresh cut and smothered in raw minced garlic, rosemary, and parsley, they're completely worth the calories.
As of early May 2012, you can still expect occasional hiccups in stock and service, and the cocktails are inconsistent at best: classic Moscow Mules have been perfect, but Manhattans came way watered down, and the house creations have been the over-sweet, syrup-thick sorts of things you'd expect in a frat-house kitchen, not a self-proclaimed "upscale dive bar." They have some great local beers on draft and in bottles, though, that are perfect with pub food. There is also the most reasonably priced non-fast-casual joint in the development -- you get plenty of food for the cost. (For more current information than their website offers, check There's Facebook page.)
The owners of Cafe at Pharr (who I desperately wish would redesign their logo to something that reminds me less of Mellow Mushroom) opened an offshoot called Baci that's serving the usual sandwich & salad suspects during lunch hours and delightful plays on Italian/American/Asian bistro cuisine at dinner. Try the mussels of the day (ours came in a red wine/fresh tomato/herb sauce that sounds iffy but was absolutely drinkable). The beet salad and burger were also excellent -- the latter involved thin double patties, near-magically cooked to temperature, and is my new city favorite of its kind (previously an honor bestowed upon Bocado's). The staff seems to be family, and be prepared for them to treat you like honored guests in their own home: impeccably polite and a bit familiar.
Next time: Noche, Old Blinde Dog, and the Olive Bistro. Let me know what you think if you've been!
Showing posts with label booze. Show all posts
Showing posts with label booze. Show all posts
Monday, April 30, 2012
Sunday, February 20, 2011
breakfast: the most important meal of the day at any o'clock
Haven't been brunching much lately, but I finally got out to try Rosebud's brunch offerings [which happen on Saturdays (and apparently Fridays, and Monday nights) as well as Sundays, which is delightful because I simply cannot be buggered to go farther than my couch on Sunday mornings]. My ladyfriends & I shared a plate of sweet corn mini-muffins as a starter, which were a bit on the crumbly side but still tender and moist with a nice crisped edge, the perfect vehicle for the whipped butter and rich peach preserves they were served with. The bar was out of one of the housemade components for the brunch cocktail I'd had my eye on, The AT&T (apricot- & thyme-infused gin and tonic), so I ordered a Gingham (gin, lemon juice, and a touch of housemade grenadine, topped off with cava & a strip of lemon peel and served in a champagne flute) instead, which was crisp and sunny, just the thing for brunch.
For my main dish, I had an openface, house-cured salmon sandwich on Holeman & Finch pumpernickel, topped with citrus-fennel slaw, a fried egg, and a drizzle of horseradish aioli. It was a serious, heavy dish in a bright, Springy way, with good herbal punch from the pumpernickel and slaw. The salmon was a bit thick-cut and therefore slightly chewy for my tastes in places, but the rest of the textures were perfect -- airy bread, crunchy cabbage, and melt-in-your-mouth over-medium egg.
I also tasted my friends' mains -- the pastrylike & sticky, sweet-tart "not your momma's french toast", stuffed with Nutella and topped with pineapple compote; a side of creamy baked/herbed/fried potatoes; and the aptly named Nasty Royale breakfast sandwich, which consisted of salty Berkshire ham, melty slices of brie, and savory-sweet truffled egg omelet with truffle honey mustard on a thick, soft baguette, and which gave me the same happy-filthy feeling I get from watching The Tudors. A certain @tracyvwilson snapped a picture of it. (And hey, Internets, @amypage says hi!)
All of the portions were generous-bordering-on-huge, and the staff was unfailingly polite. I'll definitely come back for brunch again -- maybe even early enough to catch the Morningside Farmers Market next time, or at least with a grocery list for Alon's.
In other breakfast food news, I finally tried one of Atlanta Fresh's Greek-style yogurts -- the 2% vanilla & caramel flavor. It was dessertlike, rich and thick and creamy, with just a touch of roasty caramel sweetness to compliment the yogurt's tang. The 6-ounce cup had only 3 grams of fat (0 saturated) and a nice 15 grams of protein, but 26 grams of sugar, which is a lot for me. I can't justify paying $2.50 to $3.00 for a single serving of yogurt on any kind of frequent basis (even in support of fab local producers), but it'll make a terrific sometimes-treat. I found mine at the Whole Foods on Pleasant Hill, but they're available all over Atlanta.
I also tried a couple Kalona SuperNatural yogurts this past week -- the 2% strawberry and vanilla flavors, both with cream tops (which are my favorite things for yogurt to have). The texture of the strawberry yogurt was off to me, sort of broken/lumpy/gooey, but the tart & tangy flavor was nice. I liked the vanilla much more overall -- the cream top was intact, the vanilla flavor was strong, and the texture was smooth. With 2.5 grams of fat (1.5 saturated), a minuscule 6 grams of sugar, and 6 grams of protein per each 6 oz. cup, I felt good about eating these (and adding granola). I found them at the Fresh Market on Roswell.
For my main dish, I had an openface, house-cured salmon sandwich on Holeman & Finch pumpernickel, topped with citrus-fennel slaw, a fried egg, and a drizzle of horseradish aioli. It was a serious, heavy dish in a bright, Springy way, with good herbal punch from the pumpernickel and slaw. The salmon was a bit thick-cut and therefore slightly chewy for my tastes in places, but the rest of the textures were perfect -- airy bread, crunchy cabbage, and melt-in-your-mouth over-medium egg.
I also tasted my friends' mains -- the pastrylike & sticky, sweet-tart "not your momma's french toast", stuffed with Nutella and topped with pineapple compote; a side of creamy baked/herbed/fried potatoes; and the aptly named Nasty Royale breakfast sandwich, which consisted of salty Berkshire ham, melty slices of brie, and savory-sweet truffled egg omelet with truffle honey mustard on a thick, soft baguette, and which gave me the same happy-filthy feeling I get from watching The Tudors. A certain @tracyvwilson snapped a picture of it. (And hey, Internets, @amypage says hi!)
All of the portions were generous-bordering-on-huge, and the staff was unfailingly polite. I'll definitely come back for brunch again -- maybe even early enough to catch the Morningside Farmers Market next time, or at least with a grocery list for Alon's.
In other breakfast food news, I finally tried one of Atlanta Fresh's Greek-style yogurts -- the 2% vanilla & caramel flavor. It was dessertlike, rich and thick and creamy, with just a touch of roasty caramel sweetness to compliment the yogurt's tang. The 6-ounce cup had only 3 grams of fat (0 saturated) and a nice 15 grams of protein, but 26 grams of sugar, which is a lot for me. I can't justify paying $2.50 to $3.00 for a single serving of yogurt on any kind of frequent basis (even in support of fab local producers), but it'll make a terrific sometimes-treat. I found mine at the Whole Foods on Pleasant Hill, but they're available all over Atlanta.
I also tried a couple Kalona SuperNatural yogurts this past week -- the 2% strawberry and vanilla flavors, both with cream tops (which are my favorite things for yogurt to have). The texture of the strawberry yogurt was off to me, sort of broken/lumpy/gooey, but the tart & tangy flavor was nice. I liked the vanilla much more overall -- the cream top was intact, the vanilla flavor was strong, and the texture was smooth. With 2.5 grams of fat (1.5 saturated), a minuscule 6 grams of sugar, and 6 grams of protein per each 6 oz. cup, I felt good about eating these (and adding granola). I found them at the Fresh Market on Roswell.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
consumerism WOW: post-holiday patterns of villainy
SO. As I began the process of publishing this episode of Consumerism WOW (in which the gig is this: I provide a list of shiny things, Adam P. Knave guesses why I want them, and I tell you why he's wrong), it came to my attention that many of you failed to procure holiday gifts for me. An unintentional oversight or postal mishap, I am sure! Whatever your reason, excuse, "legally" binding contract, or commitment to The Sleeping Elder Gods of the Deep that has prevented you from giving me something, I forgive you. Perhaps you were merely wanting for a gift idea! Here's 10, slackers. My birthday is May 29th. Perhaps you can get it together before then, hmm?**
Thing #1
Adam: This is a secret warning to people who want to bring you food that, in actuality, you eat tiny bits throughout the day. NOM. NOM. NOM.
Lauren: Well, that's true! And very much exactly how hypoglycemia works. But mostly I just want one of the smaller notebooks because, despite having a blog and a job on the Intarwebs, I'm better at thinking on paper than I am on a keyboard.
Thing #2
Adam: Ahh I see someone made a graphical representation of your dream journal, Lauren! How did you convince them to do that?
Lauren: I had the anthropomorphic dream cupcakes send the artist a fax! Durr. Did you not realize that cakefax goes both ways?
Thing #3
Adam: You want to lay this out and then tell people "Oh no, it's just sugar. For your coffee," and then sit and snicker as they find out it is le spicy.
Lauren: I would never do that to coffee! But Adam, I'm running out of ways to shock people with my baked goods. They're used to me putting meat in cookies already. I need to step up my game. (Also, I would totally do that to chai or hot cocoa.)
Thing #4
Adam: Whenever you open a hoodie. Wherever you need to get in a bag. Each time you unzip your pants. They'll be there. Tiny donuts. And you can tug at them, to ease your pain of not having real donuts to eat.
Lauren: That is also exactly how hypoglycemia works. (C'mon, they're such cute donuts! And one of them is sad 'cause he got ate! And the artist, Heidi Kenney, is fantabulous!)
Thing #5
Adam: Uhm, I hate to be the one to tell you, but not only will this not do anything to keep the rain off, but if you use it in sunlight to protect your oh-so-dear-lord-get-some-sun skin you'll just tan in a lacy pattern.
Lauren: I don't tan, I burn and then peel to white. But I suppose I wouldn't want to burn in a lacy patter, either. I appreciate your advice, and promise I'll only use it as a sunblock on cloudy days. (Though mostly, I want it as a defensive weapon and skeletal accessory.)
Thing #6
Adam: We need no reason or excuse for booze. Carry on.
Lauren: I should hope not! Especially for excellent, smokey-leathery scotch-whisky-esque reposado mezcal tequila.
Thing #7
Adam: This is for your crime fighting career as "The Perfume-agator" isn't it? Throwing bombs made of the stuff to mark and later hunt down criminals. Your secret is safe with us, Lauren!
Lauren: That would be the worst plan ever! I would track down the bad guys and they'd smell so nice that I'd just nuzzle them. I would-- be every conflicted, sexually tense superhero ever written. No, I just want to dab a little bit of each of these scents on myself and find The One that makes me smell like sexy cookies served with whiskey-laced tea (Earl Grey, hot).
Thing #8
Adam: Is… is that Hello Kitty's skull? What have you done with Hello Kitty? Hello? Kitty?
Lauren: Not Hello Kitty! It's a calavera -- a skeleton that's excited to be a skeleton 'cause the prevailing cultural belief system of its (previously inclusive) people celebrates and honors it! ....But you can't say that Kittydidn't wouldn't have it coming.
Thing #9
Adam: I'll be honest here, kid, I thought this was made of roe at first and wondered why you wanted to wear eggs. And then it kinda made sense. But that isn't what this is at all and now I wonder why it isn't an egg bracelet.
Lauren: Roe doesn't have the structural integrity to form a bracelet, Adam, that's why. ....Unless maybe you find a way to magnetize them, like organic, squishy Bucky Balls.
Thing #10
Adam: Do you really think that if you smack people hard enough with this that you can leave fun patterns on them? Really?
Lauren: Well I mostly just wanted to leave fun patterns in shortbread cookies which I could then mail to people like you, but y'know, that's a much better idea. I shall be a supervillain with lace-pattered sunburns and shortbread-patterned victims, and the world shall tremble before my fearsome patterns of destruction!
Until next time, my dear consumers! BWA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HAcough!
**Taking a quick step back (up? diagonally?) from Consumerism WOW, I just wanted to put in that while I covet many, many commercially available products, the best, most favorite gifts I've received have been handmade by friends & family. No one ever needs to give me stuff. Certainly, no one ever needs to buy me stuff. (But if you're gonna, I would earnestly appreciate owning any of the things I mention in any Consumerism WOW episode.)
Adam: This is a secret warning to people who want to bring you food that, in actuality, you eat tiny bits throughout the day. NOM. NOM. NOM.
Lauren: Well, that's true! And very much exactly how hypoglycemia works. But mostly I just want one of the smaller notebooks because, despite having a blog and a job on the Intarwebs, I'm better at thinking on paper than I am on a keyboard.
Adam: Ahh I see someone made a graphical representation of your dream journal, Lauren! How did you convince them to do that?
Lauren: I had the anthropomorphic dream cupcakes send the artist a fax! Durr. Did you not realize that cakefax goes both ways?
Adam: You want to lay this out and then tell people "Oh no, it's just sugar. For your coffee," and then sit and snicker as they find out it is le spicy.
Lauren: I would never do that to coffee! But Adam, I'm running out of ways to shock people with my baked goods. They're used to me putting meat in cookies already. I need to step up my game. (Also, I would totally do that to chai or hot cocoa.)
Adam: Whenever you open a hoodie. Wherever you need to get in a bag. Each time you unzip your pants. They'll be there. Tiny donuts. And you can tug at them, to ease your pain of not having real donuts to eat.
Lauren: That is also exactly how hypoglycemia works. (C'mon, they're such cute donuts! And one of them is sad 'cause he got ate! And the artist, Heidi Kenney, is fantabulous!)
Adam: Uhm, I hate to be the one to tell you, but not only will this not do anything to keep the rain off, but if you use it in sunlight to protect your oh-so-dear-lord-get-some-sun skin you'll just tan in a lacy pattern.
Lauren: I don't tan, I burn and then peel to white. But I suppose I wouldn't want to burn in a lacy patter, either. I appreciate your advice, and promise I'll only use it as a sunblock on cloudy days. (Though mostly, I want it as a defensive weapon and skeletal accessory.)
Adam: We need no reason or excuse for booze. Carry on.
Lauren: I should hope not! Especially for excellent, smokey-leathery scotch-whisky-esque reposado mezcal tequila.
Adam: This is for your crime fighting career as "The Perfume-agator" isn't it? Throwing bombs made of the stuff to mark and later hunt down criminals. Your secret is safe with us, Lauren!
Lauren: That would be the worst plan ever! I would track down the bad guys and they'd smell so nice that I'd just nuzzle them. I would-- be every conflicted, sexually tense superhero ever written. No, I just want to dab a little bit of each of these scents on myself and find The One that makes me smell like sexy cookies served with whiskey-laced tea (Earl Grey, hot).
Adam: Is… is that Hello Kitty's skull? What have you done with Hello Kitty? Hello? Kitty?
Lauren: Not Hello Kitty! It's a calavera -- a skeleton that's excited to be a skeleton 'cause the prevailing cultural belief system of its (previously inclusive) people celebrates and honors it! ....But you can't say that Kitty
Adam: I'll be honest here, kid, I thought this was made of roe at first and wondered why you wanted to wear eggs. And then it kinda made sense. But that isn't what this is at all and now I wonder why it isn't an egg bracelet.
Lauren: Roe doesn't have the structural integrity to form a bracelet, Adam, that's why. ....Unless maybe you find a way to magnetize them, like organic, squishy Bucky Balls.
Adam: Do you really think that if you smack people hard enough with this that you can leave fun patterns on them? Really?
Lauren: Well I mostly just wanted to leave fun patterns in shortbread cookies which I could then mail to people like you, but y'know, that's a much better idea. I shall be a supervillain with lace-pattered sunburns and shortbread-patterned victims, and the world shall tremble before my fearsome patterns of destruction!
Until next time, my dear consumers! BWA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA
**Taking a quick step back (up? diagonally?) from Consumerism WOW, I just wanted to put in that while I covet many, many commercially available products, the best, most favorite gifts I've received have been handmade by friends & family. No one ever needs to give me stuff. Certainly, no one ever needs to buy me stuff. (But if you're gonna, I would earnestly appreciate owning any of the things I mention in any Consumerism WOW episode.)
Saturday, October 2, 2010
creature comforts in Boston
New job has been full of learning curves! Thrilling, anxiety-inducing, curly-wurly learning curves. But it's also been full of friendly, nerdly people, being encouraged to tweet for fun & profit, and a trip to Boston during which the aforementioned nice people introduced me to restaurants with delicious foods.
My first night in town, after a ridiculously long day of travel/office shenanigans, extraface, @rubicantekid, and I grabbed pre-collapse dinner at Chutney's, which lives in a tiny food court space in The Garage on Harvard Square. It's an Indian fast-food sandwich shop -- like Subway (a franchise of which the owner also runs), except the breads you choose from include naan, roti, and paratha, the components you choose from include aloo chana, basmati rice, lamb kabob, and chicken tikka, and I've never been offered tamarind chutney at a Subway. I got the paneer tikka with rice, tomato, cucumber, and mint & tamarind chutneys on naan. They smooshed the ingredients inside the naan and then toasted the whole thing in a panini press, and it was near-terrifyingly unabashed comfort/junk food, the textures all gradients of soft and the flavors warm & savory-sweet with just a touch of heat. I very much recommend the place to hungry students and weary travelers.
The following night, with a bit more planning & wherewithal, extraface, Ian, and I headed to Central Kitchen in Cambridge on Central Square. Tucked into a space no larger than Brick Store minus the Belgian Bar, Central Kitchen's cozily dim tables and short, seasonal menu of increasingly intriguing comfort foods made me feel instantly at home. The craft cocktail list, beginning with the old-standard Aviation, helped too. My Tom Collins concocted with house-made rosemary simple syrup was somehow refreshing and savory at the same time in a way that was lovely rather than conflicting.
For food, Ian and I shared a daily-special appetizer of spreadably soft, creamy chicken livers with rich balsamic gravy and a kick of sweet & sour cooked berryish things (currents, maybe?) over soft, just-caramelized toast -- which was pretty much transcendental. Dave had the cocktail shrimp, which were elegantly presented and reportedly delicious. My entree of seafood bouillabaisse was a tad bit salty, but the squid, mussels, and clams were all perfectly chewy-tender, and the cod, shrimp, tomatoes, and saffron conspired to make the broth both bright & rich. We tried two of the desserts -- a baked chocolate pudding that was nearly sensory overload (think solid, spoonable hot chocolate) and a deceptively simple butter cake with berry sauce (like a warmer, denser berry shortcake). I absolutely recommend Central Kitchen to gastro-geeks.
Let me know if there's anywhere in particular I need to go the next time I'm up Boston-way!
My first night in town, after a ridiculously long day of travel/office shenanigans, extraface, @rubicantekid, and I grabbed pre-collapse dinner at Chutney's, which lives in a tiny food court space in The Garage on Harvard Square. It's an Indian fast-food sandwich shop -- like Subway (a franchise of which the owner also runs), except the breads you choose from include naan, roti, and paratha, the components you choose from include aloo chana, basmati rice, lamb kabob, and chicken tikka, and I've never been offered tamarind chutney at a Subway. I got the paneer tikka with rice, tomato, cucumber, and mint & tamarind chutneys on naan. They smooshed the ingredients inside the naan and then toasted the whole thing in a panini press, and it was near-terrifyingly unabashed comfort/junk food, the textures all gradients of soft and the flavors warm & savory-sweet with just a touch of heat. I very much recommend the place to hungry students and weary travelers.
The following night, with a bit more planning & wherewithal, extraface, Ian, and I headed to Central Kitchen in Cambridge on Central Square. Tucked into a space no larger than Brick Store minus the Belgian Bar, Central Kitchen's cozily dim tables and short, seasonal menu of increasingly intriguing comfort foods made me feel instantly at home. The craft cocktail list, beginning with the old-standard Aviation, helped too. My Tom Collins concocted with house-made rosemary simple syrup was somehow refreshing and savory at the same time in a way that was lovely rather than conflicting.
For food, Ian and I shared a daily-special appetizer of spreadably soft, creamy chicken livers with rich balsamic gravy and a kick of sweet & sour cooked berryish things (currents, maybe?) over soft, just-caramelized toast -- which was pretty much transcendental. Dave had the cocktail shrimp, which were elegantly presented and reportedly delicious. My entree of seafood bouillabaisse was a tad bit salty, but the squid, mussels, and clams were all perfectly chewy-tender, and the cod, shrimp, tomatoes, and saffron conspired to make the broth both bright & rich. We tried two of the desserts -- a baked chocolate pudding that was nearly sensory overload (think solid, spoonable hot chocolate) and a deceptively simple butter cake with berry sauce (like a warmer, denser berry shortcake). I absolutely recommend Central Kitchen to gastro-geeks.
Let me know if there's anywhere in particular I need to go the next time I'm up Boston-way!
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Mockingjay and Top Flr
Just picked up my long-awaited copy of Mockingjay, the third and final book in the YA Hunger Games series by Suzanne Collins! Along with a keychain so's I can properly advertise my dorkiness (since Scholastic has, for some reason, decided not to cash in on the pins they're making but rather to offer them only as prizes and student incentives).*Please note that I'm being responsible and doing the writing/editing I've promised to finish tonight and tomorrow, and that I'll bloody well put an arrow through the pig of anyone who spoils me before I get a chance to read this thing. ^____^
In quick food updates, I had dinner at Top Flr last night -- they do a $15 3-course prix fix on Mondays, and you should really go the next time you've got a Monday evening free.
Last night, the first course was a salad of peppery-green arugula with sweet slivers of dried fig, heat from slices of pepperocini, bright cherry tomato halves, creamy-sharp parmaggiano flakes, and a bare, tart lemony dressing to bind the lot together.
The second course was an option of a crumbled chorizo, jalapeño, onion, and arugula flatbread or a seared scallop with a warm, Asian-inspired salad of kale, cucumbers, cherry tomatoes, celery, onion, and octopus. The flatbread was tasty in a distinctly late-night-college-snack sort of way, but the scallop dish was really delightful -- the sugared soy & sesame dressing playing against the bitter of the vegetables and the sweetness of the tomatoes and seafood, and both the scallop and octopus cooked to tender-chewy excellence.
The third course was an option of a chocolate ganache tart, which I didn't try, or a coconut bread pudding with a spiced sauce and carmelized sliced bananas. Though I didn't detect much coconut in the bread pudding, the dessert was warming and lovely, not too sweet and slightly strange for the Indian-inspired heat of the sauce. Fans of chilies + chocolate should be on the lookout for this one.
For $15 it was a light dinner (dessert doesn't count as filling. Hungry diners might want to order a pre-prix fix snack), but an excellent value for the experience of such playful flavors. Service was polite and attentive, but the kitchen didn't seem to be in a rush to get the courses out -- I would reserve Top Flr for a night that you don't have a schedule to keep. And I feel obligated to mention feeling a little foppish when the price of my dinner nearly doubled upon ordering a cocktail -- which was terrific, something they're calling A Sordid Affair: smoky Scorpion Blanco mezcal tequila, bittersweet Cynar artichoke liquor, spicy black peppercorn simple syrup, bright blackberries, and a squeeze of balancing citrus, served over ice with a straw for sipping and a pretty circle of lime set against the interior of the glass. But yeah, I'm just sayin' -- even with the prix fix in hand, Top Flr isn't tight-budget friendly. Which is okay sometimes! I'll definitely be back to try the regular menu and more of the cocktails. Let me know what's best there if you've been before.
* Scholastic, won't you please let me give you cash monies for a Mockingjay pin? I approve of ALSO using them as prizes and student incentives, and I'll make one myself out of the aforementioned keychain, but you're making fandom difficult, here.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Spanish pigs and Georgian burgers
I'm finally getting out to The Iberian Pig for dinner tonight, and hopefully I'll have the wherewithal post-dinner but pre–food coma to jot down some notes to share with y'all. For a person who's insisted on vegetarian meals all week, I'm fairly ridiculously excited about trying as many different preparations of pork as possible in one sitting.
Part of my recent vegetarianism has been penitence due to my visit to Farm Burger last week. It wasn't any one thing that pushed the meal into a hedonistic experience, but rather the combination of a few bites each of the fried chickpeas (non-breaded, prepared in their papery shells with a dusting of salt like significantly heavier edamame -- interesting but too raw-crunchy for my liking), fried chicken livers (the size and shape of the richest-ever chicken nuggets with a sweet, thin mustard sauce for dipping -- highly recommended), beer-battered onion rings (the ultimate kind, with an even ratio of crisp breading clinging to thick cuts of sweet onion), sweet potato fries (a bit bland and soft compared with the other sides), French-fried potatoes (also on the soft side, but that's a good thing with such lovely hand-cut potatoes 'cause it allows the potatoes' earthy flavor to emanate), the smoked paprika mayo for dipping (a bit too creamy but with excellent smokey flavor), a glass of Terrapin Hop Karma IPA (a peppery and rich brown ale/IPA collision), and my No. 3 burger with à la Grecque mushrooms and onions, gruyere, and arugula. The burger was cooked a perfect, pink medium with an excellent outer char, the bun was soft and squishy but boasted a similarly delightful caramelized char on the inside, and though the mushrooms and onions were a bit too vinegary for my tastes, they sure did provide a needed cut to all the fatty flavors.
I'll be sure to go back to try their veggie quinoa burger, their floats (hibiscus + cinnamon? vanilla porter? yes pls), and more of their toppings (I'm plotting a Ludicrously Expensive Burger: their beef patty topped with roasted bone marrow, aged smoked gouda, arugula, and thick-sliced heirloom tomato). If you beat me to it, tell me how everything was!
Pro-tip: I went on a Thursday and the place was slammed at first but cleared out after 8:30 or so, leaving lots of elbow room and a friendly-if-slightly-punchy staff. So aim to arrive around then if you dislike crowds.
Part of my recent vegetarianism has been penitence due to my visit to Farm Burger last week. It wasn't any one thing that pushed the meal into a hedonistic experience, but rather the combination of a few bites each of the fried chickpeas (non-breaded, prepared in their papery shells with a dusting of salt like significantly heavier edamame -- interesting but too raw-crunchy for my liking), fried chicken livers (the size and shape of the richest-ever chicken nuggets with a sweet, thin mustard sauce for dipping -- highly recommended), beer-battered onion rings (the ultimate kind, with an even ratio of crisp breading clinging to thick cuts of sweet onion), sweet potato fries (a bit bland and soft compared with the other sides), French-fried potatoes (also on the soft side, but that's a good thing with such lovely hand-cut potatoes 'cause it allows the potatoes' earthy flavor to emanate), the smoked paprika mayo for dipping (a bit too creamy but with excellent smokey flavor), a glass of Terrapin Hop Karma IPA (a peppery and rich brown ale/IPA collision), and my No. 3 burger with à la Grecque mushrooms and onions, gruyere, and arugula. The burger was cooked a perfect, pink medium with an excellent outer char, the bun was soft and squishy but boasted a similarly delightful caramelized char on the inside, and though the mushrooms and onions were a bit too vinegary for my tastes, they sure did provide a needed cut to all the fatty flavors.
I'll be sure to go back to try their veggie quinoa burger, their floats (hibiscus + cinnamon? vanilla porter? yes pls), and more of their toppings (I'm plotting a Ludicrously Expensive Burger: their beef patty topped with roasted bone marrow, aged smoked gouda, arugula, and thick-sliced heirloom tomato). If you beat me to it, tell me how everything was!
Pro-tip: I went on a Thursday and the place was slammed at first but cleared out after 8:30 or so, leaving lots of elbow room and a friendly-if-slightly-punchy staff. So aim to arrive around then if you dislike crowds.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Concentrics' swank Summer Swag
Just a quick clue-in for any Atlanta eaters on a budget who haven't heard: For the rest of the month of August, you can get 50% off at any of the Concentrics restaurants (up to a $25 discount everywhere but Bakeshop, which offers a discount up to $10) simply by going to their site and either printing this Summer Swag flyer or downloading it to your phone.
The Concentrics group encompasses One Midtown Kitchen, Two Urban Licks, Murphy's, Parish, Bakeshop, TAP, Room at Twelve, and Lobby Bar & Bistro. If, like me, you're on something of an unofficial mission to eat at every restaurant and pub in the city, this is a good opportunity/excuse/Jedi mind trick to try a few out at a relatively low dollar-risk.
Of the Concentrics lot, I've only ever been to One Midtown Kitchen and Two Urban Licks (and the now-defunct Trois), which have offered experiences that were intriguing if not always precisely solid. I've found that all three provided better cocktails and small plates overall than entrees -- if you're into the craft cocktail scene and sharing dishes with your dining mates, I'd hazard to say that you'll be pleased with any of Concentrics' offerings.
Of One and Two, I personally recommend One Midtown Kitchen for being a bit more laid back and pared down. The space and staff have this particular calm & collected kind of eccentric-artist vibe to them that compliments the poshly understated menu. If you go, ask the knowledgeable, friendly waitstaff for opinions and recommendations on the ever-changing offerings -- but definitely try the house-made charcuterie. The bizarre-sounding but delectably spiced chocolate-jalapeño pork sausage is one of my favorite cured meats in town. And their seasonal cocktails are blissful -- boozy, balanced, and none too sweet.
Two Urban Licks is a more hyperactive sort of posh: all bright lights, bold colors, big noises, flashy food, and glitzy people. I feel like it's designed to be sensory overload -- the exhausting sort of [dinner] party. Try their house-infused cocktails -- they've always got some strange, sassy thing brewing.
And if you get out to any of the other Concentrics places, let me know how they are! With such an awesome deal going, I can nearly guarantee that by the end of the month, I'll be able to compare notes.
The Concentrics group encompasses One Midtown Kitchen, Two Urban Licks, Murphy's, Parish, Bakeshop, TAP, Room at Twelve, and Lobby Bar & Bistro. If, like me, you're on something of an unofficial mission to eat at every restaurant and pub in the city, this is a good opportunity/excuse/Jedi mind trick to try a few out at a relatively low dollar-risk.
Of the Concentrics lot, I've only ever been to One Midtown Kitchen and Two Urban Licks (and the now-defunct Trois), which have offered experiences that were intriguing if not always precisely solid. I've found that all three provided better cocktails and small plates overall than entrees -- if you're into the craft cocktail scene and sharing dishes with your dining mates, I'd hazard to say that you'll be pleased with any of Concentrics' offerings.
Of One and Two, I personally recommend One Midtown Kitchen for being a bit more laid back and pared down. The space and staff have this particular calm & collected kind of eccentric-artist vibe to them that compliments the poshly understated menu. If you go, ask the knowledgeable, friendly waitstaff for opinions and recommendations on the ever-changing offerings -- but definitely try the house-made charcuterie. The bizarre-sounding but delectably spiced chocolate-jalapeño pork sausage is one of my favorite cured meats in town. And their seasonal cocktails are blissful -- boozy, balanced, and none too sweet.
Two Urban Licks is a more hyperactive sort of posh: all bright lights, bold colors, big noises, flashy food, and glitzy people. I feel like it's designed to be sensory overload -- the exhausting sort of [dinner] party. Try their house-infused cocktails -- they've always got some strange, sassy thing brewing.
And if you get out to any of the other Concentrics places, let me know how they are! With such an awesome deal going, I can nearly guarantee that by the end of the month, I'll be able to compare notes.
Friday, May 21, 2010
Jacksonville can haz food culture
An open note to friends (and enemies who nonetheless read my blog): I must apologize to any of you who have been in Jacksonville, Florida in the past 3 weeks who haven't been to two completely fabulous restaurants and one inexpensive & beer-filled brewery. It's all my fault. I should've told you sooner. If there's still time, listen close:
13 Gypsies, a tapas joint with about 7 tables and a menu that manages to encompass cuisines stretching from West Asia to Europe, feels immediately like home -- like a dear friend is cooking for you. A dear friend who specializes in warm, joyful flavors in quintessential combinations, absolutely drinkable sauces, and the freshest, softest, most flavorful grilled flatbread, perfect for soaking everything else up. A dear friend with whom you need to make reservations in advance -- they've got a well-deserved reputation for excellence at extraordinarily fair prices, and especially after being featured on Food Network just this month, 13 Gypsies is going to be booming. I particularly recommend the Roman Gnocchi (cooked in bricks rather than dumpling form), the curries, and ordering a salad so that you have something to cleanse your palate between plates.
I didn't make it into the dining room proper of Orsay, but can tell all omnivores that going to Orsay is imperative due to the lounge alone. Its menu and decor reminded me of Abattoir with a touch more tactile style thanks to the fancier seating & plating -- think if Urban Outfitters were a) actually classy and b) served house-made charcuterie. We shared around several plates during their ludicrously worthwhile cocktail hour (from 4 to 7, all appetizers & cocktails are discounted and raw oysters are half price), and everything was just delightful. I'm still infatuated with their gamey, meaty duck rillette, topped with just enough creamy fat and served in (for serious) the cutest li'l lion-faced pot ever; their lightly roasted oysters, served on the half shell along with bits of bacon to compliment the brine, bits of spinach to compliment the brightness of the meat, and creamy cheese to bind the flavors together; their generous cheese plate; and the priciest raw oysters they had on the menu that day. Their cocktails were all a bit on the sweet side for me, but I'd order their pear jalapeño margarita, layered with flavors of sweet green pear and warming green heat, any time. My other favorite was their Blood Orange Martini, which felt like the least healthy smoothie ever, but I'd save it for a dessert replacement.
When the tap room of Bold City Brewery is open, you can order a sample flight of everything they've got on tap for free, so long as you buy two drinks afterwards. With so much to choose from, direct-to-consumer prices, a friendly (if cramped) crowd, and even some family-style food to purchase if you get hungry, you'll want to stay anyway. My tastes in beer run dark & roasty, but I loved their crisp, clean Killer Whale Cream Ale and complexly floral & citrusy Chinook IPA. I chatted a bit with co-owner & site manager Susan Miller, who said that the scary leap and hard work it's taken to help her son open the brewery has been more rewarding and felt more like fun than anything she ever experienced in corporate management, but hearing it from her was almost superfluous -- the Miller family's passions for good beer and showing people a good time shone in every pint poured and every word spoken by their staff.
And now you know! And knowing is the half of the battle that doesn't involve driving ~5 hours to Jacksonville and eating tasty things while you're there.
13 Gypsies, a tapas joint with about 7 tables and a menu that manages to encompass cuisines stretching from West Asia to Europe, feels immediately like home -- like a dear friend is cooking for you. A dear friend who specializes in warm, joyful flavors in quintessential combinations, absolutely drinkable sauces, and the freshest, softest, most flavorful grilled flatbread, perfect for soaking everything else up. A dear friend with whom you need to make reservations in advance -- they've got a well-deserved reputation for excellence at extraordinarily fair prices, and especially after being featured on Food Network just this month, 13 Gypsies is going to be booming. I particularly recommend the Roman Gnocchi (cooked in bricks rather than dumpling form), the curries, and ordering a salad so that you have something to cleanse your palate between plates.
I didn't make it into the dining room proper of Orsay, but can tell all omnivores that going to Orsay is imperative due to the lounge alone. Its menu and decor reminded me of Abattoir with a touch more tactile style thanks to the fancier seating & plating -- think if Urban Outfitters were a) actually classy and b) served house-made charcuterie. We shared around several plates during their ludicrously worthwhile cocktail hour (from 4 to 7, all appetizers & cocktails are discounted and raw oysters are half price), and everything was just delightful. I'm still infatuated with their gamey, meaty duck rillette, topped with just enough creamy fat and served in (for serious) the cutest li'l lion-faced pot ever; their lightly roasted oysters, served on the half shell along with bits of bacon to compliment the brine, bits of spinach to compliment the brightness of the meat, and creamy cheese to bind the flavors together; their generous cheese plate; and the priciest raw oysters they had on the menu that day. Their cocktails were all a bit on the sweet side for me, but I'd order their pear jalapeño margarita, layered with flavors of sweet green pear and warming green heat, any time. My other favorite was their Blood Orange Martini, which felt like the least healthy smoothie ever, but I'd save it for a dessert replacement.
When the tap room of Bold City Brewery is open, you can order a sample flight of everything they've got on tap for free, so long as you buy two drinks afterwards. With so much to choose from, direct-to-consumer prices, a friendly (if cramped) crowd, and even some family-style food to purchase if you get hungry, you'll want to stay anyway. My tastes in beer run dark & roasty, but I loved their crisp, clean Killer Whale Cream Ale and complexly floral & citrusy Chinook IPA. I chatted a bit with co-owner & site manager Susan Miller, who said that the scary leap and hard work it's taken to help her son open the brewery has been more rewarding and felt more like fun than anything she ever experienced in corporate management, but hearing it from her was almost superfluous -- the Miller family's passions for good beer and showing people a good time shone in every pint poured and every word spoken by their staff.
And now you know! And knowing is the half of the battle that doesn't involve driving ~5 hours to Jacksonville and eating tasty things while you're there.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
restaruant: Canoe's river garden
Went with a few lovely people to the equally lovely Canoe a couple weeks back on a Wednesday evening -- they're hosting a series of musical evenings out on their lawn, serviced by a brand-new bar on the edge of the river. They've hired my friend Juliana Finch on to manage the music, and built a little stone patio -- just the size for just enough sound equipment to make an acoustic set happen -- for her and the other performers she's bringing in. It was a tad bit chilly that night, but now that it's warmed up past 70 it'll be paradise -- as scenic a view as you'll get of the Chattahoochee framed by Canoe's signature aesthetic style (which mixes enough modernity in with its quaint riverboat concept to make it more posh than kitschy), a staff that's ferociously polite and gracious, handmade cocktails with Springy flavors, and a menu of small plates all sturdy, warming, and portioned to share.
We tried most everything on the riverside menu, and it was all worthwhile. And though still not cheap, it's quite reasonable for Canoe -- we shared 7 dishes and 7 drinks among the 4 of us, and the total bill came just shy of $100. Here's what we tried:
The snacks: The lightly textured edamame hummus tasted bright and green with herbs and garlic, and came with two types of breads for dipping -- one a crisp flatbread and one lightly toasted and chewy. The potted chicken liver pate came with two fruit jellies (one soft and spreadable and one gummi-like) for a contrast of acid, and four triangles of crispy bread for building bites on. The pate was smooth, creamy, and on the light end of the potted meat spectrum (which was nice for the setting), but the bread, despite its good buttery flavor, was the one negative point in the meal for me, too crumbly to handle and with too few slices served to compliment the generous portion of pate.
The sandwiches: The miniature version of their duck & beef burger was juicy and pink; topped with an omg-cute quail egg cooked a perfect over-medium, a slight slather of something mayo-like, and lightly pickled radicchio; came with a small side of storebrand-shaming waffled potato crisps; and mostly made me want to go inside and order the larger one. The roast beef sandwich was possibly my favorite dish of the evening, a combination of bright tomato, earthy cheese, and savory, meltingly thin-sliced beef on bread just crisped & chewy enough to stand up to the toppings. (I adore Canoe's fancy dishes, but their ability to make simple ones glow, gastronomically speaking, is my favorite thing about the place.)
The plates: The smoked salmon served over crunchy grated potato croquettes with creamy caper dressing, one of the dishes I'd tried at their brunch, was just as good as I remembered -- all those different textures and salty, fatty flavors form a highly snackable dish. (We ordered a second plate of it during round 2, and everyone had seconds.) The tiny lamb shortribs were tender and smoky, with complimentary tang provided by the minimally messy sauce and the pickled relish that they come plated with.
The drinks: Their boozy Chai cocktail was a minty and delicately spiced mix of whisky and tea, like a julep gone just a little Bollywood. The bartender sold three of us on a new thing called a Spring Lemongrass, made of cucumber vodka, a light sake, lemongrass syrup, and a curl of lemon peel, which was the most refreshing and scene-appropriate drink we tried. We also ordered two variations of a drink involving lime juice, muddled basil (strained out, yay), and rhubarb bitters -- if you try one, I recommend asking for it with gin instead of vodka for more of a flavor punch.
Being out there on Canoe's lawn, the sun setting behind their lit logo with music and grillworks both wafting, I never would've thought that 6 months previous, flood water rose to the level of their hanging garden lamps and came all the way into their kitchens. Canoe is a restaurant more than recovered -- it's blooming. Go for the music series -- it's running every Wednesday through Friday from now til at least the end of May -- and see for yourself.
We tried most everything on the riverside menu, and it was all worthwhile. And though still not cheap, it's quite reasonable for Canoe -- we shared 7 dishes and 7 drinks among the 4 of us, and the total bill came just shy of $100. Here's what we tried:
The snacks: The lightly textured edamame hummus tasted bright and green with herbs and garlic, and came with two types of breads for dipping -- one a crisp flatbread and one lightly toasted and chewy. The potted chicken liver pate came with two fruit jellies (one soft and spreadable and one gummi-like) for a contrast of acid, and four triangles of crispy bread for building bites on. The pate was smooth, creamy, and on the light end of the potted meat spectrum (which was nice for the setting), but the bread, despite its good buttery flavor, was the one negative point in the meal for me, too crumbly to handle and with too few slices served to compliment the generous portion of pate.
The sandwiches: The miniature version of their duck & beef burger was juicy and pink; topped with an omg-cute quail egg cooked a perfect over-medium, a slight slather of something mayo-like, and lightly pickled radicchio; came with a small side of storebrand-shaming waffled potato crisps; and mostly made me want to go inside and order the larger one. The roast beef sandwich was possibly my favorite dish of the evening, a combination of bright tomato, earthy cheese, and savory, meltingly thin-sliced beef on bread just crisped & chewy enough to stand up to the toppings. (I adore Canoe's fancy dishes, but their ability to make simple ones glow, gastronomically speaking, is my favorite thing about the place.)
The plates: The smoked salmon served over crunchy grated potato croquettes with creamy caper dressing, one of the dishes I'd tried at their brunch, was just as good as I remembered -- all those different textures and salty, fatty flavors form a highly snackable dish. (We ordered a second plate of it during round 2, and everyone had seconds.) The tiny lamb shortribs were tender and smoky, with complimentary tang provided by the minimally messy sauce and the pickled relish that they come plated with.
The drinks: Their boozy Chai cocktail was a minty and delicately spiced mix of whisky and tea, like a julep gone just a little Bollywood. The bartender sold three of us on a new thing called a Spring Lemongrass, made of cucumber vodka, a light sake, lemongrass syrup, and a curl of lemon peel, which was the most refreshing and scene-appropriate drink we tried. We also ordered two variations of a drink involving lime juice, muddled basil (strained out, yay), and rhubarb bitters -- if you try one, I recommend asking for it with gin instead of vodka for more of a flavor punch.
Being out there on Canoe's lawn, the sun setting behind their lit logo with music and grillworks both wafting, I never would've thought that 6 months previous, flood water rose to the level of their hanging garden lamps and came all the way into their kitchens. Canoe is a restaurant more than recovered -- it's blooming. Go for the music series -- it's running every Wednesday through Friday from now til at least the end of May -- and see for yourself.
Friday, April 16, 2010
EAV and Morningside eating
I got out to Rosebud with some ladyfriends a couple weeks back… it was the very beginning of patio season, and theirs is a gorgeous one. My entrée of free-form pork ravioli in a smoky, slightly sweet mushroom gravy was too heavy and altogether soft for my tastes, but my friend's duck risotto with sage was bright, earthy, and al dente, just the thing for open-air dining. The real gem of the evening was our appetizer of duck & sweet potato croquettes, served with sharp and creamy goat cheese and a spicy-sweet dipping sauce. I could've eaten a whole meal worth of that. The cocktails I tried, one a gin, ginger, and blueberry cider martini (called a Blue Philly) and one a lavender-infused gin & tonic with a bit of egg white foam (called a Bathtub Gin), both lacked flavor punch but were dangerously smooth and drinkable.
Still in the throes of my Spring patio love affair, I got out to the EARL for lunch -- I'd only ever been there for a) Sunday brunch, and b) ridiculously drank concerts. Don't let the double-plus divey dive-bar part fool you -- the EARL serves better pub fare than most restaurants. My black bean burger was a bit too moist & soft (read: fresh) to stay together in its tender (read: also fresh) bun, but it was so tasty that I didn't mind. I ordered it with their Guacamole Burger toppings (guac, cheddar, & salsa), which were a terrific compliment to the slightly spiced, grill-kissed black bean patty. Their sweet potato fries (which they don't charge extra for as a side) were excellent -- thick-cut, crisp & crunchy on the outside, soft on the inside, and salted -- and the cranberry horseradish sauce that they came with was punchy-hot and more bitter than sweet, which provided an I-can't-believe-more-places-don't-do-this contrast to the flavor of the sweet potatoes. I think I just had a Terrapin Rye, but they've got a full bar (durr, see above re: drank).
In a rare in-EAV-for-the-second-time-in-a-week occurrence, I stopped in at East Atlanta Thai & Sushi (which always seems to be playing Latin music -- I sorta adore cultural schizophrenia) on a Monday night and sampled their dollar sushi menu. It was actually $2 for 2 pieces of selected nigiri or a 6-piece maki, which, despite some technical inconsistencies with the advertisement, is still a great deal. They didn't skimp on the cuts of fish, which were all of perfectly acceptable quality. The salmon was particularly nice, and the spicy tuna roll was non-creamy and sinus-clearing. A few nitpicks: their edamame was a bit undersalted, their wakame salad was a bit over-sesame oil'd, and their sushi rice was overchilled. But if you're in the area and looking for an inexpensive, sushi-laden meal, it's a thing I'd recommend. Bring your best banter -- the chef (who slipped me an extra pair of tuna nigiri, which I love him for) can be boisterous. I didn't have any drinks, but they have a full bar.
Still in the throes of my Spring patio love affair, I got out to the EARL for lunch -- I'd only ever been there for a) Sunday brunch, and b) ridiculously drank concerts. Don't let the double-plus divey dive-bar part fool you -- the EARL serves better pub fare than most restaurants. My black bean burger was a bit too moist & soft (read: fresh) to stay together in its tender (read: also fresh) bun, but it was so tasty that I didn't mind. I ordered it with their Guacamole Burger toppings (guac, cheddar, & salsa), which were a terrific compliment to the slightly spiced, grill-kissed black bean patty. Their sweet potato fries (which they don't charge extra for as a side) were excellent -- thick-cut, crisp & crunchy on the outside, soft on the inside, and salted -- and the cranberry horseradish sauce that they came with was punchy-hot and more bitter than sweet, which provided an I-can't-believe-more-places-don't-do-this contrast to the flavor of the sweet potatoes. I think I just had a Terrapin Rye, but they've got a full bar (durr, see above re: drank).
In a rare in-EAV-for-the-second-time-in-a-week occurrence, I stopped in at East Atlanta Thai & Sushi (which always seems to be playing Latin music -- I sorta adore cultural schizophrenia) on a Monday night and sampled their dollar sushi menu. It was actually $2 for 2 pieces of selected nigiri or a 6-piece maki, which, despite some technical inconsistencies with the advertisement, is still a great deal. They didn't skimp on the cuts of fish, which were all of perfectly acceptable quality. The salmon was particularly nice, and the spicy tuna roll was non-creamy and sinus-clearing. A few nitpicks: their edamame was a bit undersalted, their wakame salad was a bit over-sesame oil'd, and their sushi rice was overchilled. But if you're in the area and looking for an inexpensive, sushi-laden meal, it's a thing I'd recommend. Bring your best banter -- the chef (who slipped me an extra pair of tuna nigiri, which I love him for) can be boisterous. I didn't have any drinks, but they have a full bar.
Friday, January 29, 2010
restaurant: Woodfire Grill
SO. I went to Woodfire Grill (re-newly hot hotspot for localvores and fans of Kevin Gillespie's beard) a couple weeks ago and promised you a review, and I definitely haven't posted that yet. Except for how I'm posting it right now. It took me awhile because, guys, I apparently had a lot to say about this dinner. Which is an awesome thing.
I'd decided long before my roommate and I arrived that we were gonna do the whole-table-inclusive 5-course chef's tasting menu. Luckily (for him, as I would've probably asked the kitchen for a trout to slap him with otherwise), my roommate agreed. The menu and wine pairings (which are chosen by the owner, and offered for a separate charge) for the tasting are based on the whims of the market and kitchen each day, so I can nearly guarantee that if you go, you won't have the same dinner that we did. And they won't tell you what dishes you'll be tasting beforehand -- every course is a surprise. (I would like to sign up for more surprises like these.) This is what ours wound up being:
Now, in the interest of full disclosure, I have to report that the dinner started off a bit slow. A server was eager to take our drink order while we were waiting for our table in the comfortable lounge -- but our glasses of wine didn't actually show up until several minutes after we'd been seated, and bread didn't hit until after we'd ordered several minutes later, arriving (slightly chilled, so probably they weren't waiting for a batch to come out) along with our amuse. Perhaps they wanted the amuse to be the first thing we tasted? I wasn't running a timer, but the process of seating and ordering must've taken half an hour at the very least, which is awhile to wait when you're thirsty, hungry, and have a reservation. But that's my single complaint about the service -- for the rest of the evening, our waitress (and the entire fleet of other servers who were on hand) was warm and attentive, quick to explain, inform, and help.
But to the food! First out was an amuse bouche -- a black-eyed pea fritter with a spicy, creamy pickle dressing. Pure welcome and comfort. It was paired with a local sparkling wine that was a bit sweet for the dish, I thought, but the bubbles were just the thing for the light, crispy fritter. And luckily for wine-on-an-empty-stomach me, the vaguely belated bread basket contained a thick & chewy, lemon-zested, focaccia-type panbread; a darker, seeded peasant bread; and an addictively salted & herbed whipped butter. I could've filled up on the lemony one plus heavy schmears of butter alone, but I managed to abstain for the good of all of us.
The first full course was strips of battered & fried mushroom, slightly sweet, over a sharp & creamy cheese sauce with a drizzle of pungent candied garlic sauce. I found the fried mushroom a little oily after the first few bites, but it served well as a vehicle for the terrific sauces. I would have liked, in particular, to take home a vat of the cheese one. The wine pairing, an earthy Semillon, was perfect -- the sort of pairing that develops deeper flavors in both the wine and the dish.
Second course was seafood -- a roasted scallop and a few sweet, small shrimp, with a sprinkle of dill and a jewel-like salad of radish slices, cut paper-thin, and blood orange segments. My roommate, who dislikes seafood, cleaned the plate. I was less impressed with this dish than with all of the others; the scallop had a bit of grit to it, I wasn't entirely sure what the dill was doing besides mucking about, and the texture on both scallop and shrimp was more on the side of well-done than I personally prefer (I'm not sure how I feel about confit of shrimp). But the flavor of everything was good -- all very light and slightly sweet. (In retrospect, I think I would've wanted to have this before the fried mushrooms because the flavors in it were just so delicate.) The wine pairing, a Chenin Blanc, was another terrific match -- crisp and light with just enough sweetness.
Next came another taste from the kitchen, to cleanse and prep our palates for the heavier dishes ahead -- an oyster on the half-shell, dressed with a lobster cream and salt-cured salmon roe. And, okay, I never order raw oysters anywhere because, while I enjoy raw seafood, most places that serve raw oysters skeeze me right the hell out. But this was just (if you'll excuse me slipping into clichéd foodie hyperbole) ethereal. It didn't taste like shellfish -- it tasted like the ocean, salty, briny, and breezy. The cream played against this, pulling the flavor and mouthfeel into a richer, heavier place, and the roe balanced both out. And the wine pairing, a chardonnay, convinced a certain roommate who takes issue with the very existence of chards that the wine does indeed have a place in the world. In terms of wow factor and harmony of flavors, I'd say this was my favorite thing from the whole dinner.
Not to say that you should do something drastic like stop reading, 'cause next up, the third course, was a plate of little bitty quail quarters that I could've kept eating all night, served over a bed of stewed, creamy-textured potatoes and chewy mushrooms and circled with a salty chicken jus. I love game bird, and this was perhaps the best quail I've ever had, salty-sweet-crisp-tender all at once. Salty & sweet from the glaze over the crisp outer crust, with tender meat underneath. If I am ever fabulously wealthy, I'm going to eat something very much like those quailbits in the way that the plebes eat chicken wings. This was the one wine pairing, however, that I didn't think complimented the dish well at all. On the sweet side, the pinot blend made the glaze on the birds go sour, and had no power to cut the fat in the meat and ragout. Both my roommate and I prefer drier wines, though, and even if we were biased, one pairing slip the whole night ain't shabby.
The fourth and main course was -- of course -- pork. Pork two ways, in fact -- a medallion of pork loin and a thick chunk of pork belly, accompanied by a pork rind-studded risotto, a spear of picklish endive, and a schmear of apple vinegar sauce. The smokiness and tenderness involved in both pieces of meat was absolutely pornographic -- like the best beef tenderloin and sirloin, but in pig flavor. And the wine pairing -- a smoky, rich Garnacha -- enhanced it to the point that my roommate and I stopped talking and conversed only in indecently happy noises while we savored this dish. If this is the style of pork belly treatment that Tom Colicchio found fault with in the Top Chef season finale, well, I'll take his lifetime allotment of it. I disliked the endive -- whatever it was braised in (more apple vinegar?) made it too sour and bitter for me, even next to the fatty meat. (My roommate didn't mind it though -- I think I dislike vinegar more than the average bear.) But that was minor, forgivable. Oh, that smokiness. I'm afraid I'm going to hold all future pork dishes up to that one, and find them all lacking.
In the afterglow, the fifth course arrived -- two different dessert dishes, each with its own wine pairing! My considerable sweet-tooth and I were incredibly pleased. First, I tasted the molten-chocolate-filled chocolate crepe that was served over a sort of mocha latte soup with little nibs of cocoa and a spoonful of whipped cream. The flavors were just what I wanted after that pork, deep and dark and bittersweet. I thought the texture of the crepe was off -- a little too thick and spongy -- and that the sauce was a bit too thin. But the flavors went wonderfully with the tawny port it was served with (which I squeed a little about when the waitress poured it for me -- tawny port is one of my most favorite things on the planet when it's sort of masculine and nutty, like dessert whiskey more than dessert wine, and this was one of those).
Then my roommate and I switched plates and I tried the second dessert -- a small vanilla cake served with meringue and apple bits. Which was, strangely, also exactly what I wanted after the pork, sweet and warming with just a tiny hint of tartness. My roommate wasn't impressed by this one (though he's not a fan of sweets in general and cooked apples in particular), but as a baker myself, I very much was. (I did think the apples could've been cooked a tad more and incorporated into the cake, which, by itself, was bland after so many aggressive courses. But.) The cake's dense, heavy crumb, contained by a deeply caramelized crust, is something I'm going to attempt to replicate. And the meringue -- the meringue was paradigm-shifting, for a person with paradigms about pastry. It was what meringe can be, should be -- pudding-thick and so fresh that it managed to be sticky and creamy at the same time, like the best-ever marshmallow fluff. (I need to make this meringue. I need to put it on icebox pies, make cookie sandwiches out of it, serve it between layers of fruit and ice cream. But, um, anyway.) The dish was served with a chilled Sauternes that provided a slightly tart contrast to all the sweetness, and both the dish and the wine helped bring out the fruitiness in the other.
Overall, was this dinner worth the price tag of $65 per person plus wine, with the final bill including gratuity being up above $200? Um. That's a hard thing to answer. It was a special event for two food geeks, and I can write a huge part of the price tag off as being part of the experience. But I wouldn't do something like that more than once every couple of years, and only for people who I like very, very much. And if I go back, I'll keep a few things in mind to minimize the expense.
My advice:
I'd decided long before my roommate and I arrived that we were gonna do the whole-table-inclusive 5-course chef's tasting menu. Luckily (for him, as I would've probably asked the kitchen for a trout to slap him with otherwise), my roommate agreed. The menu and wine pairings (which are chosen by the owner, and offered for a separate charge) for the tasting are based on the whims of the market and kitchen each day, so I can nearly guarantee that if you go, you won't have the same dinner that we did. And they won't tell you what dishes you'll be tasting beforehand -- every course is a surprise. (I would like to sign up for more surprises like these.) This is what ours wound up being: Now, in the interest of full disclosure, I have to report that the dinner started off a bit slow. A server was eager to take our drink order while we were waiting for our table in the comfortable lounge -- but our glasses of wine didn't actually show up until several minutes after we'd been seated, and bread didn't hit until after we'd ordered several minutes later, arriving (slightly chilled, so probably they weren't waiting for a batch to come out) along with our amuse. Perhaps they wanted the amuse to be the first thing we tasted? I wasn't running a timer, but the process of seating and ordering must've taken half an hour at the very least, which is awhile to wait when you're thirsty, hungry, and have a reservation. But that's my single complaint about the service -- for the rest of the evening, our waitress (and the entire fleet of other servers who were on hand) was warm and attentive, quick to explain, inform, and help.
But to the food! First out was an amuse bouche -- a black-eyed pea fritter with a spicy, creamy pickle dressing. Pure welcome and comfort. It was paired with a local sparkling wine that was a bit sweet for the dish, I thought, but the bubbles were just the thing for the light, crispy fritter. And luckily for wine-on-an-empty-stomach me, the vaguely belated bread basket contained a thick & chewy, lemon-zested, focaccia-type panbread; a darker, seeded peasant bread; and an addictively salted & herbed whipped butter. I could've filled up on the lemony one plus heavy schmears of butter alone, but I managed to abstain for the good of all of us.
The first full course was strips of battered & fried mushroom, slightly sweet, over a sharp & creamy cheese sauce with a drizzle of pungent candied garlic sauce. I found the fried mushroom a little oily after the first few bites, but it served well as a vehicle for the terrific sauces. I would have liked, in particular, to take home a vat of the cheese one. The wine pairing, an earthy Semillon, was perfect -- the sort of pairing that develops deeper flavors in both the wine and the dish.
Second course was seafood -- a roasted scallop and a few sweet, small shrimp, with a sprinkle of dill and a jewel-like salad of radish slices, cut paper-thin, and blood orange segments. My roommate, who dislikes seafood, cleaned the plate. I was less impressed with this dish than with all of the others; the scallop had a bit of grit to it, I wasn't entirely sure what the dill was doing besides mucking about, and the texture on both scallop and shrimp was more on the side of well-done than I personally prefer (I'm not sure how I feel about confit of shrimp). But the flavor of everything was good -- all very light and slightly sweet. (In retrospect, I think I would've wanted to have this before the fried mushrooms because the flavors in it were just so delicate.) The wine pairing, a Chenin Blanc, was another terrific match -- crisp and light with just enough sweetness.
Next came another taste from the kitchen, to cleanse and prep our palates for the heavier dishes ahead -- an oyster on the half-shell, dressed with a lobster cream and salt-cured salmon roe. And, okay, I never order raw oysters anywhere because, while I enjoy raw seafood, most places that serve raw oysters skeeze me right the hell out. But this was just (if you'll excuse me slipping into clichéd foodie hyperbole) ethereal. It didn't taste like shellfish -- it tasted like the ocean, salty, briny, and breezy. The cream played against this, pulling the flavor and mouthfeel into a richer, heavier place, and the roe balanced both out. And the wine pairing, a chardonnay, convinced a certain roommate who takes issue with the very existence of chards that the wine does indeed have a place in the world. In terms of wow factor and harmony of flavors, I'd say this was my favorite thing from the whole dinner.
Not to say that you should do something drastic like stop reading, 'cause next up, the third course, was a plate of little bitty quail quarters that I could've kept eating all night, served over a bed of stewed, creamy-textured potatoes and chewy mushrooms and circled with a salty chicken jus. I love game bird, and this was perhaps the best quail I've ever had, salty-sweet-crisp-tender all at once. Salty & sweet from the glaze over the crisp outer crust, with tender meat underneath. If I am ever fabulously wealthy, I'm going to eat something very much like those quailbits in the way that the plebes eat chicken wings. This was the one wine pairing, however, that I didn't think complimented the dish well at all. On the sweet side, the pinot blend made the glaze on the birds go sour, and had no power to cut the fat in the meat and ragout. Both my roommate and I prefer drier wines, though, and even if we were biased, one pairing slip the whole night ain't shabby.
The fourth and main course was -- of course -- pork. Pork two ways, in fact -- a medallion of pork loin and a thick chunk of pork belly, accompanied by a pork rind-studded risotto, a spear of picklish endive, and a schmear of apple vinegar sauce. The smokiness and tenderness involved in both pieces of meat was absolutely pornographic -- like the best beef tenderloin and sirloin, but in pig flavor. And the wine pairing -- a smoky, rich Garnacha -- enhanced it to the point that my roommate and I stopped talking and conversed only in indecently happy noises while we savored this dish. If this is the style of pork belly treatment that Tom Colicchio found fault with in the Top Chef season finale, well, I'll take his lifetime allotment of it. I disliked the endive -- whatever it was braised in (more apple vinegar?) made it too sour and bitter for me, even next to the fatty meat. (My roommate didn't mind it though -- I think I dislike vinegar more than the average bear.) But that was minor, forgivable. Oh, that smokiness. I'm afraid I'm going to hold all future pork dishes up to that one, and find them all lacking.
In the afterglow, the fifth course arrived -- two different dessert dishes, each with its own wine pairing! My considerable sweet-tooth and I were incredibly pleased. First, I tasted the molten-chocolate-filled chocolate crepe that was served over a sort of mocha latte soup with little nibs of cocoa and a spoonful of whipped cream. The flavors were just what I wanted after that pork, deep and dark and bittersweet. I thought the texture of the crepe was off -- a little too thick and spongy -- and that the sauce was a bit too thin. But the flavors went wonderfully with the tawny port it was served with (which I squeed a little about when the waitress poured it for me -- tawny port is one of my most favorite things on the planet when it's sort of masculine and nutty, like dessert whiskey more than dessert wine, and this was one of those).
Then my roommate and I switched plates and I tried the second dessert -- a small vanilla cake served with meringue and apple bits. Which was, strangely, also exactly what I wanted after the pork, sweet and warming with just a tiny hint of tartness. My roommate wasn't impressed by this one (though he's not a fan of sweets in general and cooked apples in particular), but as a baker myself, I very much was. (I did think the apples could've been cooked a tad more and incorporated into the cake, which, by itself, was bland after so many aggressive courses. But.) The cake's dense, heavy crumb, contained by a deeply caramelized crust, is something I'm going to attempt to replicate. And the meringue -- the meringue was paradigm-shifting, for a person with paradigms about pastry. It was what meringe can be, should be -- pudding-thick and so fresh that it managed to be sticky and creamy at the same time, like the best-ever marshmallow fluff. (I need to make this meringue. I need to put it on icebox pies, make cookie sandwiches out of it, serve it between layers of fruit and ice cream. But, um, anyway.) The dish was served with a chilled Sauternes that provided a slightly tart contrast to all the sweetness, and both the dish and the wine helped bring out the fruitiness in the other.
Overall, was this dinner worth the price tag of $65 per person plus wine, with the final bill including gratuity being up above $200? Um. That's a hard thing to answer. It was a special event for two food geeks, and I can write a huge part of the price tag off as being part of the experience. But I wouldn't do something like that more than once every couple of years, and only for people who I like very, very much. And if I go back, I'll keep a few things in mind to minimize the expense.
My advice:
- Plan ahead and make a reservation well in advance. Not that you'll have much choice, there. The rumor I heard was that business at Woodfire is up 200% since Gillespie appeared on Top Chef (and good for them).
- Do the 5-course chef's tasting. It's only maybe 10 bucks more expensive than two entrees plus shared appetizers and dessert would be. And if you think you dislike certain foods, this is the sort of place that might change your mind.
- As tempting as the wine and cocktail list may be, just order water while you're waiting for your table if you're planning on doing wine pairings with your meal.
- Totally do wine pairings with your meal. It's pricey, but part of the adventure.
- But unless you're some kind of superhuman (or perhaps French), do the half-glass wine pairings.
- And even then, have only one out of every two members of your party order the wine. The half pours are still generous, plenty enough for two people to each sip before, during, and after each course. (Plus, like our waitress said, they want you to remember your nice dinner. And they wound up serving us 8 wines, so, yes. Even over the course of 2 hours, that's a lot of wine.)
- I have no idea whether they'll consider your request, but try asking for a table downstairs, in the cozy area by the wood ovens -- and especially along the back wall of the area, at one of the two corner tables with cushioned bench seating. We randomly scored one of these, and it was just excessively comfortable. And good for chef-watching -- we had a clear view of everything going on around the ovens.
- Enjoy yourself thoroughly and post, equally thoroughly, on the Intarwebs about your experience. And send me a link. The more foodpr0n I have, the less tempted I'll be to spend all my paychecks this way.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
restaurant: Mac McGee's
Intoxicated with food adventure after my dinner at Woodfire Grill on Tuesday (extensive post forthcoming, I promise), I got out to the new Irish pub on Decatur square, Mac McGee's, on Wednesday. (They don't seem to have a website yet, but you can check out the menu on Decatur Metro's post about them.)
The space is tiny but friendly, with several small high-top tables, stools along the bar, a few high-backed corner booths, and a couple 2-to-4-tops. We snagged the cozy booth at the front, which can be completely closed in but for a window that goes through to the bar. Highly recommended for largeish parties of close friends and/or people who want to feel like they're in a mafia movie. It's a nonsmoking establishment (bliss!), and decorated, appropriately, in glowing woods and dim lights.
I was excited to try the food, being a fan of the chef, Ryan Stewart, from when he headed the kitchen at The Glenwood. I ordered the lamb cottage pie (fine-ground lamb in gravy covered with mashed potatoes, with a side of simply dressed salad) and it was good but underwhelming, with little lamby flavor and a higher ratio of potatoes-to-meat than I would've preferred.
That was the only entrée I tasted, so I'll reserve judgment until I have a chance to go back, but the sandwiches I tried -- the corned beef and the cheeseburger with house-made bacon -- seemed to be much surer bets. Each was served on excellent bread (a squishy, eggy roll for the cheeseburger and a thick & chewy toasted baguette for the corned beef), and both meats were very well seasoned -- though I'm not sure that the burgers were actually cooked to order, despite the waitress asking everyone at what temperature they wanted theirs. The sandwiches came with sides of the best fries I've had in a long time -- small wedges of potato with a high contrast of crispy coating to meltingly soft meal. I usually don't consider fries to be worth the calories, but I could eat a lot of these.
The draft list had some terrific options (I had a Houblon Chouffe IPA Tripel and a Unibroue Trois Pistoles Strong Dark Ale), though the list was missing any form of description, in some cases including what brewery the beers were from. (Tasting notes aren't necessary on a menu, and the bartender cheerfully provided explanations and recommendations, but I'd at least like to know the general categories and gravities of what's available. My beergeek knowledge isn't always immediately accessible, especially after I've had one [Yes, one. I'm tiny].) I heard tell of a whiskey menu but didn't see one and didn't ask -- Wednesday wasn't that kind of night, and I really didn't want to tempt myself to turn it into that kind of night. But it's precisely the sort of place that I'd like to spend time denting a barstool and nursing from a short glass, and I'll definitely report back on the whiskey situation once I have.
Our waitress and bartenders were casual, good-humored, and attentive, with I think only two tiny, quickly-resolved hiccups for our table of 9, which counts as a complete service win.
Will definitely be returning. Let me know if you've been, and what you've thought if you have! And/or tell me what's your favorite UK-style pub around town -- especially if it's off the beaten.
The space is tiny but friendly, with several small high-top tables, stools along the bar, a few high-backed corner booths, and a couple 2-to-4-tops. We snagged the cozy booth at the front, which can be completely closed in but for a window that goes through to the bar. Highly recommended for largeish parties of close friends and/or people who want to feel like they're in a mafia movie. It's a nonsmoking establishment (bliss!), and decorated, appropriately, in glowing woods and dim lights.I was excited to try the food, being a fan of the chef, Ryan Stewart, from when he headed the kitchen at The Glenwood. I ordered the lamb cottage pie (fine-ground lamb in gravy covered with mashed potatoes, with a side of simply dressed salad) and it was good but underwhelming, with little lamby flavor and a higher ratio of potatoes-to-meat than I would've preferred.
That was the only entrée I tasted, so I'll reserve judgment until I have a chance to go back, but the sandwiches I tried -- the corned beef and the cheeseburger with house-made bacon -- seemed to be much surer bets. Each was served on excellent bread (a squishy, eggy roll for the cheeseburger and a thick & chewy toasted baguette for the corned beef), and both meats were very well seasoned -- though I'm not sure that the burgers were actually cooked to order, despite the waitress asking everyone at what temperature they wanted theirs. The sandwiches came with sides of the best fries I've had in a long time -- small wedges of potato with a high contrast of crispy coating to meltingly soft meal. I usually don't consider fries to be worth the calories, but I could eat a lot of these.
The draft list had some terrific options (I had a Houblon Chouffe IPA Tripel and a Unibroue Trois Pistoles Strong Dark Ale), though the list was missing any form of description, in some cases including what brewery the beers were from. (Tasting notes aren't necessary on a menu, and the bartender cheerfully provided explanations and recommendations, but I'd at least like to know the general categories and gravities of what's available. My beergeek knowledge isn't always immediately accessible, especially after I've had one [Yes, one. I'm tiny].) I heard tell of a whiskey menu but didn't see one and didn't ask -- Wednesday wasn't that kind of night, and I really didn't want to tempt myself to turn it into that kind of night. But it's precisely the sort of place that I'd like to spend time denting a barstool and nursing from a short glass, and I'll definitely report back on the whiskey situation once I have.
Our waitress and bartenders were casual, good-humored, and attentive, with I think only two tiny, quickly-resolved hiccups for our table of 9, which counts as a complete service win.
Will definitely be returning. Let me know if you've been, and what you've thought if you have! And/or tell me what's your favorite UK-style pub around town -- especially if it's off the beaten.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
recipe: simple stovetop egg nog
Egg nog is easy to make! Like crème brulee, except you don't bake it. If you're thinking, "well that sounds hard and doesn't encourage me to try making egg nog," I bet you've never had anyone show you how dangerously easy it is to make crème brulee. And I'll fix that sometime soon. But for now, just consider: Do you have half an hour to stand around your stove stirring something? If so, you can make some egg nog.
Simple Stovetop Egg Nog
Adapted from Alton Brown, Simply Recipes, and Cook's Illustrated.
Makes a quart of nog, which serves 4 to 6 people, depending on how much of it they want to drink. If you have any serious egg nog enthusiasts, you might want to double the recipe.
INGREDIENTS
2 eggs
3 egg yolks*
1/4 cup granulated white sugar
1/8 tsp salt (I used sea salt 'cause it has plenty of time to dissolve)
1 cup heavy cream (that's a half-pint)
1 cup milk (anything from 1% to whole will be fine, I might not try nonfat)
2 whole cloves (do NOT substitute ground cloves)
1/2 tbsp vanilla extract (or half a bean, scraped with pod reserved, which would be so tasty and fancy-looking)
1/4 cup bourbon or dark rum (technically optional. But I used 1/3 cup, an' what?)
1/2 tsp fresh-grated nutmeg (the fresh seriously makes a delicious difference)
METHOD
In a heavy 2-3 quart saucepan, combine your eggs, egg yolks, sugar, and salt. Whisk them briskly for at least a minute, until the mixture is foamy and has lightened a bit in color. (If you're using a nonstick pan, be sure to use a silicone-coated whisk -- and if you don't have one, do the whisking in a mixing bowl! You don't want any Teflon in your egg nog.)
Add a half cup of cream and whisk it in good -- you want the mixture to be smooth and fully incorporated before you add more. Add the remaining half cup of cream and whisk again until smooth. Do the same with the milk, a half cup at a time. This makes sure that all the proteins and fats from the eggs and milk are snuggled in with each other so that your nog will be satin-smooth. Drop in the whole cloves (they'll steep while the mixture heats).
Set your pot of nog on the stove, and turn the burner to the second lowest setting. Set a timer for 25 minutes. Ready for an arm workout? Start stirring, sir and/or madam. (I like using a whisk and keeping it going at a pretty good clip, but if you're using a nonstick pan and you don't have a safely coated whisk, a wooden or plastic spoon at a splash-avoidingly sedate pace will be fine.) You want to keep stirring constantly and heat the mixture gently-gently-gently. This may try your patience, but don't be tempted to turn the heat up. After about 10 minutes the nog should start steaming a little, and you want to maintain that steam without letting it reach a full simmer. If you let the mixture simmer, you'll have finely scrambled eggs instead of lovely drinkable custard. So if it begins steaming really profusely, turn the heat down to low and keep stirring.
If you have to stop stirring and step away for a minute or so, don't worry, you won't kill the egg nog. But it's best to keep it moving so that a) a skin won't form on top [ever made gravy?], and b) it won't heat too much or too unevenly. See above re: scrambled eggs.
You'll know the egg nog is done when a probe thermometer tells you it's 160 degrees F. Or when you dip a metal spoon in the nog and then watch the way that the custard drips off the back of the spoon -- it should coat the spoon entirely and evenly, and pool a little thicker along the edge before dripping off. Or when the timer you set goes off, provided that the mixture has been putting off steam for at least 10 minutes.
The egg nog will thicken a bit as it cools, but if you like a thicker egg nog, you can safely continue cooking it for another 10 minutes or so, stirring all the while. I kept mine going for a full 35 minutes, and it turned out like melted ice cream (yay). If you're not going to be adding any booze, I'd recommend taking it off the heat at 25 minutes.
Once it's off the stove, add in your flavorings and stir (again, more, yes) to incorporate. Pour or ladle the egg nog through a fine mesh sieve into a happy-in-the-fridge container (I used a cleaned-out Chinese delivery soup container 'cause I'm highfalutin') and cover it tightly. (If you don't have a fine mesh sieve, you can skip this step -- just fish out the whole cloves. The straining gets out any little lumpy egg bits and perfects the texture, but it'll be fine without this step.) Refrigerate for at least 3 hours, and up to 3 days.
MAKIN' IT FANCY
You can serve this egg nog plain -- just stir it first (your arm should have recovered by now) 'cause it'll have separated a little. Or you can:
--Sprinkle an extra bit of freshly-ground nutmeg on top of each serving for dual-purpose eye/nose-pleasing decoration. AND/OR:
--Whip 1/2 cup of heavy cream until it forms soft peaks, and gently fold/stir it into the egg nog. (This will give the egg nog a very pretty, snowy-looking layer of cream on top when you serve it.) OR:
--Whip 2 egg whites until they form soft peaks, and gently fold/stir them into the egg nog. (I have not tried this so I don't know what it does! But Alton Brown thinks it's a good idea, and he knows stuff.)
FLAVOR OPTIONS
If you're cooking for people who can't have alcohol, a teaspoon of (nonalcoholic) rum flavoring added at the end with the vanilla and nutmeg might be a nice addition.
If you order flavored lattes with extra pumps of gingerbread or pumpkin spice syrup: Consider ignoring my recommendation about the whole cloves. In fact, forget the whole cloves. Instead, when you take the pot off the heat, add a scant 1/8 tsp ground cloves and a scant 1/4 tsp cinnamon in addition to the other flavorings.
*OH HAY, A TUTORIAL
Separating eggs takes a bit of practice, and is a bit messy, but don't be intimidated: Working over your sink, tap the waistline of an egg on the edge of a bowl or on the surface of the counter a couple times until a crack forms. Hold the egg upright over the sink, and carefully open it the way you'd open a hinged box. A bunch of the egg white will fall into the sink! Pull the top half of the egg shell off. If you've got two somewhat even halves of shell, you can gently tip the yolk into the empty top half, being careful not to snag the yolk on the sharp edges of the shell, and then pour any remaining white out of the bottom half of the shell -- and if that doesn't get rid of most of the white, you can repeat that yolk transfer a few times. If you end up with one "half" of the shell not being large enough to hold the yolk, just cup your palm and empty the egg into it, carefully cradling the yolk and letting the white of the egg sludge through your fingers. If at any point the yolk breaks and starts to run, don't worry about how much white is left in with it -- just add it to the mixing bowl. A little extra white won't hurt anything here.
If you want, you can also save the egg whites in a sealed container in the fridge for up to 4 days for use in this or other cocktails or baking projects. They'll also keep in the freezer for up to 6 months.
Simple Stovetop Egg Nog
Adapted from Alton Brown, Simply Recipes, and Cook's Illustrated.
Makes a quart of nog, which serves 4 to 6 people, depending on how much of it they want to drink. If you have any serious egg nog enthusiasts, you might want to double the recipe.
INGREDIENTS
2 eggs
3 egg yolks*
1/4 cup granulated white sugar
1/8 tsp salt (I used sea salt 'cause it has plenty of time to dissolve)
1 cup heavy cream (that's a half-pint)
1 cup milk (anything from 1% to whole will be fine, I might not try nonfat)
2 whole cloves (do NOT substitute ground cloves)
1/2 tbsp vanilla extract (or half a bean, scraped with pod reserved, which would be so tasty and fancy-looking)
1/4 cup bourbon or dark rum (technically optional. But I used 1/3 cup, an' what?)
1/2 tsp fresh-grated nutmeg (the fresh seriously makes a delicious difference)
METHOD
In a heavy 2-3 quart saucepan, combine your eggs, egg yolks, sugar, and salt. Whisk them briskly for at least a minute, until the mixture is foamy and has lightened a bit in color. (If you're using a nonstick pan, be sure to use a silicone-coated whisk -- and if you don't have one, do the whisking in a mixing bowl! You don't want any Teflon in your egg nog.)
Add a half cup of cream and whisk it in good -- you want the mixture to be smooth and fully incorporated before you add more. Add the remaining half cup of cream and whisk again until smooth. Do the same with the milk, a half cup at a time. This makes sure that all the proteins and fats from the eggs and milk are snuggled in with each other so that your nog will be satin-smooth. Drop in the whole cloves (they'll steep while the mixture heats).
Set your pot of nog on the stove, and turn the burner to the second lowest setting. Set a timer for 25 minutes. Ready for an arm workout? Start stirring, sir and/or madam. (I like using a whisk and keeping it going at a pretty good clip, but if you're using a nonstick pan and you don't have a safely coated whisk, a wooden or plastic spoon at a splash-avoidingly sedate pace will be fine.) You want to keep stirring constantly and heat the mixture gently-gently-gently. This may try your patience, but don't be tempted to turn the heat up. After about 10 minutes the nog should start steaming a little, and you want to maintain that steam without letting it reach a full simmer. If you let the mixture simmer, you'll have finely scrambled eggs instead of lovely drinkable custard. So if it begins steaming really profusely, turn the heat down to low and keep stirring.
If you have to stop stirring and step away for a minute or so, don't worry, you won't kill the egg nog. But it's best to keep it moving so that a) a skin won't form on top [ever made gravy?], and b) it won't heat too much or too unevenly. See above re: scrambled eggs.
You'll know the egg nog is done when a probe thermometer tells you it's 160 degrees F. Or when you dip a metal spoon in the nog and then watch the way that the custard drips off the back of the spoon -- it should coat the spoon entirely and evenly, and pool a little thicker along the edge before dripping off. Or when the timer you set goes off, provided that the mixture has been putting off steam for at least 10 minutes.
The egg nog will thicken a bit as it cools, but if you like a thicker egg nog, you can safely continue cooking it for another 10 minutes or so, stirring all the while. I kept mine going for a full 35 minutes, and it turned out like melted ice cream (yay). If you're not going to be adding any booze, I'd recommend taking it off the heat at 25 minutes.
Once it's off the stove, add in your flavorings and stir (again, more, yes) to incorporate. Pour or ladle the egg nog through a fine mesh sieve into a happy-in-the-fridge container (I used a cleaned-out Chinese delivery soup container 'cause I'm highfalutin') and cover it tightly. (If you don't have a fine mesh sieve, you can skip this step -- just fish out the whole cloves. The straining gets out any little lumpy egg bits and perfects the texture, but it'll be fine without this step.) Refrigerate for at least 3 hours, and up to 3 days.
MAKIN' IT FANCY
You can serve this egg nog plain -- just stir it first (your arm should have recovered by now) 'cause it'll have separated a little. Or you can:
--Sprinkle an extra bit of freshly-ground nutmeg on top of each serving for dual-purpose eye/nose-pleasing decoration. AND/OR:
--Whip 1/2 cup of heavy cream until it forms soft peaks, and gently fold/stir it into the egg nog. (This will give the egg nog a very pretty, snowy-looking layer of cream on top when you serve it.) OR:
--Whip 2 egg whites until they form soft peaks, and gently fold/stir them into the egg nog. (I have not tried this so I don't know what it does! But Alton Brown thinks it's a good idea, and he knows stuff.)
FLAVOR OPTIONS
If you're cooking for people who can't have alcohol, a teaspoon of (nonalcoholic) rum flavoring added at the end with the vanilla and nutmeg might be a nice addition.
If you order flavored lattes with extra pumps of gingerbread or pumpkin spice syrup: Consider ignoring my recommendation about the whole cloves. In fact, forget the whole cloves. Instead, when you take the pot off the heat, add a scant 1/8 tsp ground cloves and a scant 1/4 tsp cinnamon in addition to the other flavorings.
*OH HAY, A TUTORIAL
Separating eggs takes a bit of practice, and is a bit messy, but don't be intimidated: Working over your sink, tap the waistline of an egg on the edge of a bowl or on the surface of the counter a couple times until a crack forms. Hold the egg upright over the sink, and carefully open it the way you'd open a hinged box. A bunch of the egg white will fall into the sink! Pull the top half of the egg shell off. If you've got two somewhat even halves of shell, you can gently tip the yolk into the empty top half, being careful not to snag the yolk on the sharp edges of the shell, and then pour any remaining white out of the bottom half of the shell -- and if that doesn't get rid of most of the white, you can repeat that yolk transfer a few times. If you end up with one "half" of the shell not being large enough to hold the yolk, just cup your palm and empty the egg into it, carefully cradling the yolk and letting the white of the egg sludge through your fingers. If at any point the yolk breaks and starts to run, don't worry about how much white is left in with it -- just add it to the mixing bowl. A little extra white won't hurt anything here.
If you want, you can also save the egg whites in a sealed container in the fridge for up to 4 days for use in this or other cocktails or baking projects. They'll also keep in the freezer for up to 6 months.
Friday, December 18, 2009
holidays = food and shopping
Oh, The Holidays! The one time of year that I'm operating nearly at the (ludicrous) speed of my brain. I love the season and am always somewhat relieved when it's over.
Had my office party at One Midtown Kitchen, which put together an excellent lunch for us. If you ever go there and they offer you hand-rolled gnocchi with root vegetables, you should take them up on that. (Though beware: they seem to enjoy sneaking bits of delicious meat into things that are ostensibly vegetarian. Like hand-rolled gnocchi with root vegetables. I personally enjoy charcuterie, but I wasn't expecting to find slices of it on top of my vegetarian option.) But yes, I only spilled prosecco on one person, and that person wasn't even my boss. Success!
Went back to Prohibition last night, and found the establishment to be much more -- well, established. They found a rotary dial for their phone booth (which I'm glad I didn't have to deal with after I'd had any drinks 'cause I'd nearly forgotten how those work), turned off the flat-screen, and were operating with comfortable ease. I had a tiny but satisfying bowl of gnocchi (my current obsession?) with a wonderful salty cheese crust (though I didn't detect any of the duck the menu said was in there -- perhaps it got overwhelmed by the cheese?). And Darrell poured me a Gin-Gin Mule (ginger beer and gin with a sprig of mint, warming and cooling at the same time), a whisky cocktail I didn't catch the name of involving lemon juice & peel (very smokey and grown-up), and a new thing made with Aperol and shouju and ginger beer and lemon peel (light & juicy & delicately sweet, one of my new favorites). [Oh, and I think I spied the AJC's John Kessler while I was there -- I managed to not descend upon him in a cloud of fangirl, and am hoping he'll have nice things to say about the place.]
I developed a sudden love for shouju (an airy and slightly sweet rice liquor that goes really well with citrus) at Yakitori Totto in New York City circa New Year's Eve last year. I'd never seen it on a menu before, but it sounded good and came with a variety of fruit juices. Or, more specifically as I discovered, a variety of fruit for the customer to juice. The bemused/amused waiter (who had about as much English as I have Japanese, meaning that we both did a lot of gesturing and apologizing in poor accents) looked at me looking at the fruit, and graciously whisked it away to make something drinkable out of it. (Hurrah for mutual cultural embarrassment.) If you find yourself in NYC, you should go there and order one of everything (or two of everything, as you may find yourself not wanting to share). At the very least, if they happen to have it as a special again around this time of year, try their elegant shiro-kuro goma (white & black sesame) noodle soup.
I thought I had a pretty good handle on shopping about a month ago, 'cause I had about half of it done. And so I stopped for three weeks. Oops. I'm gonna try to write up long enthusiastic things about some of my favorite online merchants later on, but for now I'll just recommend that anyone with some holiday shopping left to do hie to Sock Dreams, Think Geek, New Egg, or Jeni's Ice Cream. All have lovely products and customer service, and get things out quickly. Bless them.
Had my office party at One Midtown Kitchen, which put together an excellent lunch for us. If you ever go there and they offer you hand-rolled gnocchi with root vegetables, you should take them up on that. (Though beware: they seem to enjoy sneaking bits of delicious meat into things that are ostensibly vegetarian. Like hand-rolled gnocchi with root vegetables. I personally enjoy charcuterie, but I wasn't expecting to find slices of it on top of my vegetarian option.) But yes, I only spilled prosecco on one person, and that person wasn't even my boss. Success!
Went back to Prohibition last night, and found the establishment to be much more -- well, established. They found a rotary dial for their phone booth (which I'm glad I didn't have to deal with after I'd had any drinks 'cause I'd nearly forgotten how those work), turned off the flat-screen, and were operating with comfortable ease. I had a tiny but satisfying bowl of gnocchi (my current obsession?) with a wonderful salty cheese crust (though I didn't detect any of the duck the menu said was in there -- perhaps it got overwhelmed by the cheese?). And Darrell poured me a Gin-Gin Mule (ginger beer and gin with a sprig of mint, warming and cooling at the same time), a whisky cocktail I didn't catch the name of involving lemon juice & peel (very smokey and grown-up), and a new thing made with Aperol and shouju and ginger beer and lemon peel (light & juicy & delicately sweet, one of my new favorites). [Oh, and I think I spied the AJC's John Kessler while I was there -- I managed to not descend upon him in a cloud of fangirl, and am hoping he'll have nice things to say about the place.]
I developed a sudden love for shouju (an airy and slightly sweet rice liquor that goes really well with citrus) at Yakitori Totto in New York City circa New Year's Eve last year. I'd never seen it on a menu before, but it sounded good and came with a variety of fruit juices. Or, more specifically as I discovered, a variety of fruit for the customer to juice. The bemused/amused waiter (who had about as much English as I have Japanese, meaning that we both did a lot of gesturing and apologizing in poor accents) looked at me looking at the fruit, and graciously whisked it away to make something drinkable out of it. (Hurrah for mutual cultural embarrassment.) If you find yourself in NYC, you should go there and order one of everything (or two of everything, as you may find yourself not wanting to share). At the very least, if they happen to have it as a special again around this time of year, try their elegant shiro-kuro goma (white & black sesame) noodle soup.
I thought I had a pretty good handle on shopping about a month ago, 'cause I had about half of it done. And so I stopped for three weeks. Oops. I'm gonna try to write up long enthusiastic things about some of my favorite online merchants later on, but for now I'll just recommend that anyone with some holiday shopping left to do hie to Sock Dreams, Think Geek, New Egg, or Jeni's Ice Cream. All have lovely products and customer service, and get things out quickly. Bless them.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
restaurant: Prohibition
It's Prohibition -- you've heard rumors. An underground pub. A hidden door, accessible only by entering a secret code in an inconspicuous phone booth. Inside, amidst the dark woods, rich leather, cozily low ceilings, and sepia-toned lighting, bartenders sharp in vests and ties serve cocktails to men smoking cigars at the bar and ladies lounging by the fireplace.
Okay, on East Andrews in 2009, it's schticky. The fireplace is electric, there's a flat-screen above the bar that's likely to be tuned to a basketball game, and UK-style phone booths, while not entirely exotic in the Brit-pub–loving Atlanta metro area, are not even vaguely inconspicuous. But honestly, it's no more artificial an atmosphere than any of the other bars in Buckhead or Midtown sport, and the quality of the cocktails is worth the kitsch.
Before I tell you more, full disclosure: A dear friend of mine, Darrell Autrey (seen here in full-speed-mixing mode), was hired on as one of Prohibition's bartenders, so A) I'm probably biased, and B) I went on the very first night that the place saw customers, so the staff was still gaining their pub-legs. A few things could've gone better, but the drinks were spot-on.
Among the five people in my party (which I mention as so to look less like a complete lush), we sampled their:
The food showed promise but a less complete delivery. Three sample dishes were being passed around:
They have an extensive cigar list that I can't speak to because I don't smoke -- if anyone who's been has any comments about it, let us (my readers & I, not the royal we) know!
The atmosphere was thematic and cozy, mostly. The music was jazzy and at that elusive audible-but-nonintrusive volume. The lighting was moody but not too dim to read the wood-bound, clear & cleverly written menus. The chairs at the bar were wide and comfortable, if a little low-sitting. My only gripe concerns that flat-screen TV over the bar -- it's distracting and (I am seriously saying this about a pub) anachronistic at best, and tacky at worst. I understand that sports are important to people, but it injures my delicate aesthetic sensibilities to see a classily-over-the-top theme smashed by such a direct reminder that it's all just play-pretend.
Overall, Prohibition isn't a place I'm going to call home -- like most of Buckhead, it's a wee bit outside of my nerd/hipster comfort zone and price range, and I'm sorta-definitely ThatGuy Lady about smoking in bars. (I'll put up with it occasionally, but I don't like it. Cigars are at least atmospheric, to a certain extent and in a themed place like Prohibition, but I can't abide that kind of pollution on a frequent basis, especially if I'm trying to treat my palate.) But for the kitsch factor, the cocktails, and to check out the evolution of the menu, I'll certainly be visiting again.
If you want in, I'd keep an eye on their website and Facebook page (dudes, I know). Or drop me a note, and I'll see what I can do.
Okay, on East Andrews in 2009, it's schticky. The fireplace is electric, there's a flat-screen above the bar that's likely to be tuned to a basketball game, and UK-style phone booths, while not entirely exotic in the Brit-pub–loving Atlanta metro area, are not even vaguely inconspicuous. But honestly, it's no more artificial an atmosphere than any of the other bars in Buckhead or Midtown sport, and the quality of the cocktails is worth the kitsch.
Before I tell you more, full disclosure: A dear friend of mine, Darrell Autrey (seen here in full-speed-mixing mode), was hired on as one of Prohibition's bartenders, so A) I'm probably biased, and B) I went on the very first night that the place saw customers, so the staff was still gaining their pub-legs. A few things could've gone better, but the drinks were spot-on.Among the five people in my party (which I mention as so to look less like a complete lush), we sampled their:
- Ramos Fizz, which is their take on a silver gin fizz: A light, creamy, refreshing gin & lemon juice & egg white cocktail made with an additional hit of tart raspberry liquor. Don't be afraid of the egg, or the gin. This drink has converted everyone who's tried it on both accounts.
- Fancy Tequila Cocktail: Made with Lunazul tequila and fresh-squeezed citrus juices, this, out of everything we tried, was the drink that made me grin involuntarily upon tasting. It's everything good and pure about margaritas.
- Aviation: Gin + maraschino liquor + lemon juice + crème de violette = a juicy SweetTart. Try this if you'd usually order a Cosmo.
- Dark & Stormy: They make this popular rum & ginger drink with a kick-yo-mamma-strength ginger beer, rum that adds just enough sweetness, and a squeeze of lime. It's simultaneously spicy & soothing.
- A new thing that is possibly being called a Ten-Penny Piece: Drambuie, gin, a twist of lemon, and a bit of orange peel that's briefly introduced to fire on its way to your glass. Refreshing, herbal, and slightly sweet, this drink is everything I love about the retro craft-cocktail trend: it's yummy art.
- Tom Collins, with muddled mint: The addition of mint makes this version taste even less like alcohol than usual. Like dangerous soda pop.
- Mount Zoom: Aviation gin, cream, honey, and a dusting of nutmeg, which all together taste like a bright, snowy Christmas day. (No really.)
- A Cooley Sinister Proposal: amaretto and orange peel tempered by slightly bitter Cynar (artichoke & herb liquor), forming a sweet-but-not-too-sweet nightcap of a cocktail.
The food showed promise but a less complete delivery. Three sample dishes were being passed around:
- Lamb chops on the bone over a mushroom risotto: The heaviest of the three, and the most in need of work. The lamb, while perfectly (i.e., rarely) cooked was a bit greasy, and the risotto was salty and somewhat crunchy. With slight tweaking, it'll be every bit as warm and stick-to-your-ribs as it's intended.
- Thin slices of smoked duck breast piled against a salad of arugula and roasted corn with a creamy dressing (blue cheese, I think): The lightest and most balanced dish. The smoke treatment took most of the gaminess out of the duck and left it wonderfully tender, and the salad's play of sharp, bitter greens against sweet corn and mellow dairy simply worked.
- Crisped prosciutto wrapped around melty cheese (mozzarella, maybe), plated with a yellow heirloom tomato salad: This dish was the most craveable. Though a few of the tomato slices I got were mealy, most were good and bright-flavored. Dressed casually with a sprinkle of fresh herbs and perhaps a tiny bit of vinegar, they melded with the oil from the prosciutto on the plate. And the crispy prosciutto/cheese rolls were pornographically delicious, a combination of salty, crispy, fatty, and chewy that makes for the perfect indulgent drankin' snack.
They have an extensive cigar list that I can't speak to because I don't smoke -- if anyone who's been has any comments about it, let us (my readers & I, not the royal we) know!
The atmosphere was thematic and cozy, mostly. The music was jazzy and at that elusive audible-but-nonintrusive volume. The lighting was moody but not too dim to read the wood-bound, clear & cleverly written menus. The chairs at the bar were wide and comfortable, if a little low-sitting. My only gripe concerns that flat-screen TV over the bar -- it's distracting and (I am seriously saying this about a pub) anachronistic at best, and tacky at worst. I understand that sports are important to people, but it injures my delicate aesthetic sensibilities to see a classily-over-the-top theme smashed by such a direct reminder that it's all just play-pretend.
Overall, Prohibition isn't a place I'm going to call home -- like most of Buckhead, it's a wee bit outside of my nerd/hipster comfort zone and price range, and I'm sorta-definitely That
If you want in, I'd keep an eye on their website and Facebook page (dudes, I know). Or drop me a note, and I'll see what I can do.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
recipe: drunken-raisin oatmeal cookies with pecans and tangerine
I'm a food blog junkie, infatuated with foodie recipe sites, and a sucker for slick, high-production-value cookbooks. And I'm here today to tell you: Sometimes the recipe on the back of the brand-name lid really does work best. For example, my favorite pumpkin pie is the kind you make with a can of Libby and the recipe that's printed on the label. (The first year that my family nouveau & I hosted our See We Are Totally Grownups Thanksgiving, we slaughtered a pumpkin and made the pie from scratch. It wasn't as good.) Same goes for oatmeal cookies -- honestly, the Quaker Oats kids know what they're talking about. They've made some cookies in their time. Trust in the label. It wants you to eat delicious cookies.
....Okay, confession: I don't entirely trust in the label. 'Cause, see, the Internet told me that parbaking the pie crust will prevent sogginess and that simmering the pumpkin and cream together will make a richer filling, and the Internetnever semi-rarely steers me wrong. I can never just follow a recipe. This is possibly why I started a food-related blog.
In the case of oatmeal cookies, I mostly just add a few little touches for maximum deliciousity. The base recipe creates soft, chewy, comforting oatmeal cookies. With a few little additions, I wind up with something that tastes like home and warm and the holidays: pecans for a buttery crunch, whole wheat flour for nutty richness, cloves and tangerine zest for tastes-like-Christmas, and whiskey for smokiness & extra moisture [and also 'cause dude, most things about the holidays are better when you (or, y'know, your raisins) are a little tipsy].
Drunken-Raisin [Vanishing] Oatmeal Cookies, with Pecans and Tangerine
Adapted from the inside of the Quaker Oats lid. Makes ~3 dozen cookies.
INGREDIENTS
1/2 cup raisins (dried figs would also be awesome, just chop them raisin-sized)
1/4 cup whiskey (or bourbon -- you want something sweet rather than peaty, I used Jack Daniels)
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 cup whole wheat flour
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
1/8 tsp ground cloves
1 tangerine (or orange, or clementine, for 1 tsp of zest)
1/2 cup packed brown sugar (light or dark is fine, I like dark)
1/4 cup granulated white sugar (minus a tablespoon if you like less sweet desserts)
1 stick unsalted butter (we're gonna soften it)
1 egg
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 1/2 cups whole oats (regular or quick-cooking)
1/3 cup pecans (we're gonna chop them small & toast them)
METHOD
At least an hour before you start working, measure out your raisins into a ramekin, small bowl, or coffee mug. Add the whiskey and stir. Set aside, and stir whenever it occurs to you that you haven't in awhile. (You could do this the night before, even, if you have way more foresight than I do.) Don't worry, all the alcohol will bake off. No one will get tipsy from the finished cookies.
When the raisins have soaked up some of the whiskey, you're ready to start working. Set out your butter and egg to allow them to warm up a bit.
Chop your pecans to pea-sized-or-smaller chunks, and toast them until fragrant and warm-golden colored. That'll be ~2 minutes in a toaster oven or in a pan on medium heat on the stovetop, ~10 minutes in an oven that's just been turned on and is heating up to 350 (which is what the cookies will bake at), or ~5 minutes in a hot oven. Watch them carefully. If they burn/blacken, start over with fresh pecans. Set aside.
Measure out your dry ingredients (flours, baking soda, cinnamon, and clove) into a medium bowl and whisk to combine. Zest your orange-colored citrus of choice, and if the pieces are more strip-like than granular, chop them fine (a teaspoon is approximately what you get from one tangerine or clementine, or ~1/2 of an orange, if you're not being extremely industrious about zesting). Add the zest to the dry stuff and whisk again to combine.
If you haven't heated up your oven yet, now would be a good time to get that going towards 350.
Measure your sugars into a separate, larger bowl and add your softened butter in chunks. Cream them together using an electric beater on medium for 3 minutes, then add your egg and vanilla. Use a spoon to strain 2 tablespoons of whiskey off of the raisins, and add that to the wet mixture as well. Use that electric beater on medium again for 1 minute to combine.
Add your dry ingredients to the wet ones, and stir by hand to combine. Drain any remaining whiskey off your raisins, and add the raisins to the bowl. Also add the toasted pecan bits and the oats. Stir, again by hand, to combine.
Drop by rounded tablespoon (ping-pong ball sized bits) onto a cookie sheet and bake for 10 to 12 minutes. They'll look a little shiny and underdone in the very middle of their tops, but they'll continue cooking a bit after they come out, so that's okay. Cool for 10 minutes on the pan, then carefully remove them to a wire rack to cool completely. They'll be crumbly while they're still warm, and chewier once they're cool. I'm a chewy-texture fan, so I'd recommend waiting.
If you don't need that many cookies right now, you could refrigerate the dough for an hour or so until it's solid enough to work with, and then mold rounded tablespoons of dough into balls, wrap them in plastic wrap, and freeze in a plastic bag or container for up to a month. (Just let them defrost in the fridge for a few hours before baking, and use the full 12 minutes of baking time to compensate for the dough being chilly going in.)
Store the cookies in an airtight container, and they should last a week. Freshness-wise, anyway. They don't call them "vanishing" for nuthin.
OH HAY, A TIP
If, like I did when I made these, you find yourself without brown sugar but with both white sugar and molasses, you can haz a substitute. White sugar is just brown sugar with the molasses removed. So, to substitute for a half cup of dark brown sugar, use a half cup of white sugar plus 2 to 3 teaspoons of molasses. (I say "2 to 3" because honestly, measuring molasses is an imprecise science. Just get about that much in the mixing bowl, and don't worry about it.)
....Okay, confession: I don't entirely trust in the label. 'Cause, see, the Internet told me that parbaking the pie crust will prevent sogginess and that simmering the pumpkin and cream together will make a richer filling, and the Internet
In the case of oatmeal cookies, I mostly just add a few little touches for maximum deliciousity. The base recipe creates soft, chewy, comforting oatmeal cookies. With a few little additions, I wind up with something that tastes like home and warm and the holidays: pecans for a buttery crunch, whole wheat flour for nutty richness, cloves and tangerine zest for tastes-like-Christmas, and whiskey for smokiness & extra moisture [and also 'cause dude, most things about the holidays are better when you (or, y'know, your raisins) are a little tipsy].
Drunken-Raisin [Vanishing] Oatmeal Cookies, with Pecans and Tangerine
Adapted from the inside of the Quaker Oats lid. Makes ~3 dozen cookies.
INGREDIENTS
1/2 cup raisins (dried figs would also be awesome, just chop them raisin-sized)
1/4 cup whiskey (or bourbon -- you want something sweet rather than peaty, I used Jack Daniels)
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 cup whole wheat flour
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
1/8 tsp ground cloves
1 tangerine (or orange, or clementine, for 1 tsp of zest)
1/2 cup packed brown sugar (light or dark is fine, I like dark)
1/4 cup granulated white sugar (minus a tablespoon if you like less sweet desserts)
1 stick unsalted butter (we're gonna soften it)
1 egg
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 1/2 cups whole oats (regular or quick-cooking)
1/3 cup pecans (we're gonna chop them small & toast them)
METHOD
At least an hour before you start working, measure out your raisins into a ramekin, small bowl, or coffee mug. Add the whiskey and stir. Set aside, and stir whenever it occurs to you that you haven't in awhile. (You could do this the night before, even, if you have way more foresight than I do.) Don't worry, all the alcohol will bake off. No one will get tipsy from the finished cookies.
When the raisins have soaked up some of the whiskey, you're ready to start working. Set out your butter and egg to allow them to warm up a bit.
Chop your pecans to pea-sized-or-smaller chunks, and toast them until fragrant and warm-golden colored. That'll be ~2 minutes in a toaster oven or in a pan on medium heat on the stovetop, ~10 minutes in an oven that's just been turned on and is heating up to 350 (which is what the cookies will bake at), or ~5 minutes in a hot oven. Watch them carefully. If they burn/blacken, start over with fresh pecans. Set aside.
Measure out your dry ingredients (flours, baking soda, cinnamon, and clove) into a medium bowl and whisk to combine. Zest your orange-colored citrus of choice, and if the pieces are more strip-like than granular, chop them fine (a teaspoon is approximately what you get from one tangerine or clementine, or ~1/2 of an orange, if you're not being extremely industrious about zesting). Add the zest to the dry stuff and whisk again to combine.
If you haven't heated up your oven yet, now would be a good time to get that going towards 350.
Measure your sugars into a separate, larger bowl and add your softened butter in chunks. Cream them together using an electric beater on medium for 3 minutes, then add your egg and vanilla. Use a spoon to strain 2 tablespoons of whiskey off of the raisins, and add that to the wet mixture as well. Use that electric beater on medium again for 1 minute to combine.
Add your dry ingredients to the wet ones, and stir by hand to combine. Drain any remaining whiskey off your raisins, and add the raisins to the bowl. Also add the toasted pecan bits and the oats. Stir, again by hand, to combine.
Drop by rounded tablespoon (ping-pong ball sized bits) onto a cookie sheet and bake for 10 to 12 minutes. They'll look a little shiny and underdone in the very middle of their tops, but they'll continue cooking a bit after they come out, so that's okay. Cool for 10 minutes on the pan, then carefully remove them to a wire rack to cool completely. They'll be crumbly while they're still warm, and chewier once they're cool. I'm a chewy-texture fan, so I'd recommend waiting.
If you don't need that many cookies right now, you could refrigerate the dough for an hour or so until it's solid enough to work with, and then mold rounded tablespoons of dough into balls, wrap them in plastic wrap, and freeze in a plastic bag or container for up to a month. (Just let them defrost in the fridge for a few hours before baking, and use the full 12 minutes of baking time to compensate for the dough being chilly going in.)
Store the cookies in an airtight container, and they should last a week. Freshness-wise, anyway. They don't call them "vanishing" for nuthin.
OH HAY, A TIP
If, like I did when I made these, you find yourself without brown sugar but with both white sugar and molasses, you can haz a substitute. White sugar is just brown sugar with the molasses removed. So, to substitute for a half cup of dark brown sugar, use a half cup of white sugar plus 2 to 3 teaspoons of molasses. (I say "2 to 3" because honestly, measuring molasses is an imprecise science. Just get about that much in the mixing bowl, and don't worry about it.)
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
recipe: silver (pink) gin fizz
Darrell Autrey, Concentrics Intoxicologist and Magician-at-Large,* likes making people drunk happy. Okay, happy and probably a little bit drunk. Especially if you're a friend of his, which I am, which is both terrific and terrible, gastronomically speaking. The former because he teaches his friends how to make delicious, classic cocktails, and the latter because we then drink delicious, classic cocktails all the time and get all drank & chubby.
My current cocktail obsessions all involve gin -- Bee's Knees, Aviations, French 75s, and, perhaps the most kitschy and shiny, Silver Gin Fizzes. A Silver Gin Fizz is a slightly sweet gin + citrus + soda cocktail that boasts a slight creaminess and a gorgeous foam head thanks to the inclusion of a raw egg white in the cocktail shaker -- aaaand I'm sure I just lost some of you. But it's not gross, or slimy, or egg-flavored, and I haven't caught salmonella from one yet. (Though I'm pretty sure that the first time I saw a drink made with an egg white, the part of my brain that's still stuck in college with my roommate Juliana screamed "WATCH OUT, THE DRINK HAS CHICKEN".) See, look how pretty they are:
(Photo by Jeremy of dreamthrum.com!)
This particular Silver Gin Fizz got its pretty-in-pink color from the blackberry-infused gin that our crafty & wondermous friend Melissa made with a bottle of mild, lovely New Amsterdam gin, about half as many/much fresh blackberries by volume, and a week or so of patience. She didn't add any sugar so the gin is tart and berrylike, which plays well with the lemon in the Fizz -- but plain ol' gin would absolutely work just as well.
Silver (Pink) Gin Fizz
INGREDIENTS
1.5 oz. gin
1 oz. fresh-squeezed lemon juice
1 oz. simple syrup
1 egg white
Club soda to fill
Bit of lemon peel (for the zest, and for a garnish if you're fancy)
METHOD
1) Prepare a champagne flute (or other tall, skinny glass) by rubbing a piece of lemon peel, yellow side down, across the rim.
2) Fill a cocktail shaker halfway with ice. Measure out your gin, lemon juice, simple syrup, and egg white into the shaker. Cover the shaker, and do a little dance using the shaker as a stand-in for your handheld percussive instrument of choice. Strain the contents into the prepared glass, and gently top the mixture off with club soda. Should you happen to have fancy knife skills, garnish the foam with a curl of lemon peel.
3) Get drank in style!
*Due to irreconcilable differences with their Midtown landlord, Concentrics has temporarily closed Trois (Darrell's most recent bartending ground) pending the discovery of a new location. If you're visiting a different Concentrics location in the meanwhile and find a bartender in a bow tie, ask him for something fabulous and tip him just as fabulously!
My current cocktail obsessions all involve gin -- Bee's Knees, Aviations, French 75s, and, perhaps the most kitschy and shiny, Silver Gin Fizzes. A Silver Gin Fizz is a slightly sweet gin + citrus + soda cocktail that boasts a slight creaminess and a gorgeous foam head thanks to the inclusion of a raw egg white in the cocktail shaker -- aaaand I'm sure I just lost some of you. But it's not gross, or slimy, or egg-flavored, and I haven't caught salmonella from one yet. (Though I'm pretty sure that the first time I saw a drink made with an egg white, the part of my brain that's still stuck in college with my roommate Juliana screamed "WATCH OUT, THE DRINK HAS CHICKEN".) See, look how pretty they are:
This particular Silver Gin Fizz got its pretty-in-pink color from the blackberry-infused gin that our crafty & wondermous friend Melissa made with a bottle of mild, lovely New Amsterdam gin, about half as many/much fresh blackberries by volume, and a week or so of patience. She didn't add any sugar so the gin is tart and berrylike, which plays well with the lemon in the Fizz -- but plain ol' gin would absolutely work just as well.
Silver (Pink) Gin Fizz
INGREDIENTS
1.5 oz. gin
1 oz. fresh-squeezed lemon juice
1 oz. simple syrup
1 egg white
Club soda to fill
Bit of lemon peel (for the zest, and for a garnish if you're fancy)
METHOD
1) Prepare a champagne flute (or other tall, skinny glass) by rubbing a piece of lemon peel, yellow side down, across the rim.
2) Fill a cocktail shaker halfway with ice. Measure out your gin, lemon juice, simple syrup, and egg white into the shaker. Cover the shaker, and do a little dance using the shaker as a stand-in for your handheld percussive instrument of choice. Strain the contents into the prepared glass, and gently top the mixture off with club soda. Should you happen to have fancy knife skills, garnish the foam with a curl of lemon peel.
3) Get drank in style!
*Due to irreconcilable differences with their Midtown landlord, Concentrics has temporarily closed Trois (Darrell's most recent bartending ground) pending the discovery of a new location. If you're visiting a different Concentrics location in the meanwhile and find a bartender in a bow tie, ask him for something fabulous and tip him just as fabulously!
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