STL Delicious

To Stiff or Not To Stiff

2008-10-14T12:57:00.004-05:00

Chow recently ran a column advising whether or not it is ever okay to withhold a tip based on a bad meal. The general concensus was no, it is never okay to leave zero tip. Chow's reasons for discouraging non-tipping range from logistical (it's probably not just the server's fault) to karmic (it's "emotionally unsatisfying"), but the main point is that refusing to tip won't really fix anything.

As for me, although I have experienced many bad meals, I have never not tipped.

That's not to say I'm a holy beacon of gratuity and every server is blessed by my presence. I don't think I'm much different from anyone else who has worked in the industry (and doesn't harbor an "I got out, why can't you?" complex). For me, 20% is always -- always -- the standard. Do a mediocre job and you're still getting that. Do a stellar job and you'll get more. Do an absolutely crappy job and, well, let's just say that once your standard goes down, so does mine.

It's very rare that I'm driven to tip below 20%, but it has happened, but there are things I cannot excuse, namely, total trainwrecks of attitude or execution that should never be displayed to a paying public.

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Example 1 - Blackthorn Pub

(I'm hesitant to write this up for a couple of reasons. One, Blackthorn is a St. Louis institution with truly awesome pizza. Two, the guy involved isn't alive anymore. Perhaps I'm only trying to explain my own actions, but here goes...)

On a Tuesday night, my boyfriend and I go to Blackthorn and sit at the bar. We order a pizza and a pitcher of Schlafly. 35 minutes later, the pitcher is empty and the pizza is nowhere to be seen. Although the bartender wasn't assisting any of the other dozen people in the bar, he was too busy talking on the phone to notice us. Hmmm.

After 10 more minutes pass, he glances over, sighs audibly, and tells the person he's on the phone with to hold on. He walks over, grabs our pitcher, and gives us a look that could be translated to "What the fuck?"

"Another one, please," my boyfriend says.

The pitcher is refilled and the bartender walks away. It's now 45 minutes after we placed our order and still no pizza. At least we've got some begrudgingly served booze, but at this point, we're hungry and he's rude and beer isn't comforting enough.

Once we've been sitting there for a full hour after ordering, we're starting to wonder what the eff is going on. A pizza gets placed on the bar every 20 minutes or so, but the bartender shows no sign of caring and no one is picking them up. We've given up on trying to flag him down, because he seems completely absorbed in his phone conversation.

After an hour and fifteen minutes pass, I think I might explode.

"Excuse me" I say, probably with what my parents would call "a tone" but I don't care. The bartender rolls his eyes and walks over.

"Yeah, so, where's our pizza? It's been nearly an hour and a half."

The bartender rolls his eyes, walks down to the kitchen, and comes out with a pizza. He puts it down in front of us and starts to walk away.

"Pitcher's empty," I add.

I am beyond manners at this point. It's not that our food took forever. It's not that we had to wait for beer. It's that the bartender was so odiously rude and never at any time said, "Hey, guys, pizza's going to take awhile. Sorry." NOT ONCE. This has nothing to do with the general atmosphere of Blackthorn or a crowded house; it was all about a total jackass who barely deserved the $1.00 I tipped.

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Example 2 - Shangri-La Diner

My boyfriend and I decided on Shangri-La for lunch because it was on the way to his work and neither of us wanted anything very complicated. Plus there was an artsy pink-painted cow in front, so I assumed the burgers would be decent.

I should have known.

Perhaps the burgers were decent, but I never found out because I don't eat burgers unless they're made of meat. Nothing at Shangri-La is made of meat, not even the "pulled pork sandwich" (calling imitation meat anything resembling the word "pork" is a sin, okay, a sin). We didn't know the place was vegetarian at first, but we're adaptable. We can handle it. They still used cheese made from real milk.

In addition to the Pepto-Bismol acid trip theme and the completely unintelligle server, it took more than 30 minutes to receive our grilled cheese sandwich and cheese quesadilla. We were two of only four people in the entire place.

Look, Shangri-La employees, it's perfectly acceptable to do whatever you want on your own time, but please refrain from smoking massive amounts of marijuana at work. At least, of course, unless you're okay with being tipped a dollar. Dirty hippies.

***

Now that I've attempted to redeem my non-tip episodes, I hope that Chow and myself have brought some clarity to the issue. Also, at least I've never been driven to this....

RECIPE - Baked Mostaccioli with Pork Sugo

2008-09-27T15:46:00.007-05:00

Until this month’s issue of Food & Wine was delivered, I had no idea what sugo was. I don’t think many people did, but a recent browsing of Food Gawker (a favorite food blog and glo-or-orious source of daily food porn) indicates that the magazine has made the food geek rounds. I should mention that I didn’t actually use the recipe, but I got the gist and below is what I did with it.

For starters, sugo is a thick Italian sauce made with meat and vegetables. It’s actually sort of similar to a Spanish sofrito, but with meat blended into the vegetables. Food & Wine recommended braising the pork for two hours, but like I’ve said before, time is tight. I can’t very well braise for two hours at night, but I can turn on a CrockPot* before I leave for work.

*sorry, I meant slow cooker. I’m clearly not being paid by the CrockPot people.

In addition to a slow cooker, here’s what you’ll need:

1 pork shoulder or loin
1 medium-sized onion, halved and quartered
1 bulb garlic, cloves peeled and ends trimmed
3 stalks celery, cut into 1/4 inch pieces
2 bell peppers (I used green because they’re a whole dollar cheaper than red or yellow), but into ½ inch pieces
1 ½ cups carrots, cut into 1/4 inch pieces
1 fistful spinach, stems trimmed
1 large can (umm, 16 ounces?) crushed San Marzano tomatoes
4 leaves basil
2 sprigs thyme
2 pinches dried oregano (I don’t use enough of it to buy fresh)
kosher salt
black pepper
1/4 cup vegetable stock
2 1/2 cups red wine (I used Cabernet, I find pinot noir, malbec, and syrah too berry-like for this)
olive oil
2-3 cups dried mostaccioli pasta (I guess it's ziti for non-St. Louisans)
grated Parmesan cheese

Because I don’t feel like doing all my prep in the morning, I took about 30 minutes the night before to cut the celery, bell pepper, carrots, onion, and garlic. At the risk of getting all Jessica Seinfeld and being sued for the following sentence, this recipe is an excellent way to jam a lot of vegetables into a dish without it tasting like crap. See?

By the way, you don't need to cut anything precisely. You're going to smash it into a mess later on, so don't bother with bite-sized pieces or with getting everything even.

After cutting the above-named vegetables, place everything into Ziploc bags and stick them on the same refrigerator shelf for easy access in the morning. I cannot be trusted to select from different shelves before I’ve finished Pot 1 of coffee.

The next morning, turn the slow cooker on low and pour a shallow pool of olive oil in the bottom. Season the pork with salt and pepper and throw it in.

Cover the pork with last night’s vegetables, the thyme, oregano, and 2 leaves of basil.

Then pour in half of the tomatoes and keep the other half in a container for later.

Lastly, pour in the vegetable stock and red wine.

*Those purplish things in the picture are cubes of frozen demiglace from a previous recipe. More on that later.

Cover the slow cooker and go to work.

(Work sucks, doesn’t it?)

Two hours of braising in the oven is about the same as 8 hours of low slow cooker time, so turn off the slow cooker as soon as you get home. I took the lid off because it smelled amazing and nothing is sexier than smelling food when you’re changing out of your work clothes.

Once you’ve changed (and possibly cracked open a happy-hour-at-home beverage), use a slotted spoon to get the vegetables and pork into a bowl. Tearing the pork as you go is fine, because you’ll be blending it anyway.

*** Food & Wine also recommended a food processor to fully blend the meat and veg, but I don’t have one. I suppose I could request one as a gift, but my mom rolls her eyes when I request Season 2 of No Reservations on DVD. Guess how successful the food processor will be. I originally planned to use my blender, but it’s difficult to wash and I’m sort of in love with my potato masher. I think it’s an Oxo, but I bought it at Target and it’s freaking amazing. ***

If you decide to use a potato masher like I did, start wailing on the vegetables and pork. Actually, be careful. They’ve absorbed a lot of liquid and could squirt you in the eye if you’re overzealous.

But now you have sugo....

Once you’re done mashing, cover the bowl with some plastic and set it aside. Put some salted water on to boil for the pasta and preheat your oven to 400.

***While you’re waiting for the water to boil, spoon the liquid left in the slow cooker into some empty ice cube trays. This is an excellent way to ensure that you’ll always have some kind of broth, demiglace, or stock on hand. (You may want to store the trays in a freezer bag once the liquid is solid; there’s no need for fatty stuff rattling around in the freezer.)***

Food & Wine's recipe called for orechiette, but this is St. Louis and we rock it mostaccioli-style. Mispronounced, of course. Anyway, cook your pasta until it’s just firm. Anything further will result in mush, and mush doesn’t taste good no matter how hard you bake it. Drain.

Combine the sugo, pasta, spinach, and the remaining basil leaves and pour into a casserole dish. Pour the remainder of the crushed tomatoes on top.

Place casserole dish in oven and leave it there for about 35 minutes. After then, pull it out and top with grated Parmesan. Put it back in the oven for about 7 minutes, turning the broiler on for the last 1 or 2.

I like to let the casserole dish to sit for at least 5 minutes after I take it out of the oven. It’s less likely to hemorrhage liquid and, you know, scald my tongue. Plus all that flavorful porky goodness has a chance to marry with sharp, tangy Parmesan and sweet tomatoes.

The End.

Hiatused

2008-09-25T21:24:00.001-05:00

You may have noticed that STL Delicious has been on hiatus for the past month and a half or so, but hopefully everyone who noticed that also noticed when I wrote about how time is tight and money is tighter at the moment. While I can’t commit to going out every week like I used to, I’ll try my best to at least cook something every now and then.

With this in mind, expect a Pork Sugo and Pasta recipe this Saturday.

Surely You Jest

2008-08-09T10:24:00.002-05:00

This is why people continue to resist food "trends" in favor of things like Velveeta and Tang. Designer ice? You've got to be kidding.

Don't You Recognize Me?

2008-07-31T19:13:00.005-05:00

Apologies for the lull. Money is tight and time is tighter.

Chow recently ran a column about how restaurant regulars should expect to be treated. The advice seeker said that he and his wife visit the same bistro about three times per month and leave a large tip. Not only does the staff not comp the occasional glass of wine, they also don't remember if his wife prefers sparkling or still water and show no sign of recognizing them. The advice seeker wanted to know if his expectations were valid.

While the advice giver was diplomatic and correct, as with most Internet forums, I found the comments to be the most entertaining and, more importantly in this case, spot-on. Most Chowhounds (including myself, nerd alert) are either industry or are very familiar with how it operates. Instead of posting a buttload of flames about some silly typo, Chowhounds provide helpful, thoughtful, and honest advice.

You can click-and-read them if you want, but because this is my blog, I'm sharing my own thoughts on the expectation that bothers me the most - that restaurant and bar staff should comp you just because you've been there before.

Okay, so I'm industry. I've spent 9 hours a night lugging cases of beer, reaching into slimy cooler depths, and dealing with drunken idiots who think I'm a waitress, wench, and mother in addition to the bartender. My boyfriend is industry, too. He stands behind a stove in a cramped, 104-degree kitchen. My friends are also industry. They make money by hustling between tables, slinging orders, parking cars, and all other manner of getting stuff down your throat and making sure you have a good night.

We have things to do.

Do not expect us to give you anything for free.

No matter how frequent a customer may be, no one should ever enter an establishment expecting free stuff. It's presumptuous, rude, and totally contradictory to the whole commerce thing. Let's not forget Homer Simpson's brain's sage advice about how money can be exchanged for goods and services.
Sure, I might give out a free beer or two over the course of a night. I might not. Depends on my mood and how busy I am. Restaurants are the same way. Your server shouldn't be expected to give you a free glass of wine for coming in (especially considering how most people's booze preferences magically upgrade when they're not paying), but she might if there's only one glass left in a decent bottle. Might.

Tipping is certainly appreciated. But it's also expected. I don't work for free; tipping is part of my pay. It doesn't guarantee you free stuff. Also, an unusually large tip, while nice, is grounds for suspicion. No, you cannot stare at my boobs for money. No, I will not fall all over you with gratitude. No, you do not get top shelf for the price of rail every time. I'm more likely to pour heavily for you than the cheapskate who never tips, but giving away the bar is not in my job description.

I do believe that everyone should be recognized. It's just polite. I know I can't stand it when the power-tripping door guy at the place I go all the time acts like he has no idea who I am. He doesn't need to know my name, birthdate, or waive the cover, but still, dude, say hi like you've seen me before. Be reasonable, though. If I'm slammed and you unobtrusively order a couple of beers before leaving, I may not know your face the next time you come in. Nothing personal.

The bottom line here is that while regulars should be treated as they are -- valued customers -- there's no reason for anyone to expect restaurants, bars, valet lanes, etc. to be transformed into VIP gift suites at the sight of a familiar face.

Real Good

2008-07-11T18:51:00.001-05:00

Married To The Sea

DOUBLE POST! The Trade and The Fashionability of Bacon

2008-07-08T16:17:00.004-05:00

No Douchebags Allowed

It's not on the door of The Trade, but it certainly should be. The Trade isn't the sort of place that accepts douchebags, even the kind that wears a popped collar and keeps its mouth shut. That's not to say it's hard to get in; although the RFT has named The Trade as St. Louis' new rock n' roll bar (perhaps the hammered-together look or poster of Sid Vicious have something to do with it), it's more like a place that accepts anyone who can put their head down, their elbows out, and drink like, well, okay, a rock star.

Finding The Trade takes some doing. It's officially listed at 3515 Chouteau -- the same building currently housing longtime gay bar The Complex. However, it's best to enter from Papin, one block north of Chouteau and home to not much more than industrial buildings and gravel parking lots.

It's called setting the mood.

The Trade doesn't feature rock bands per se. It's simply too small. In addition, the concrete, diamond-plate steel, and haphazardly assembled everything else don't exactly make for ideal acoustics, either. Instead of the thrash bands you'd expect to play under the aforementioned Sid Vicious poster, The Trade plans on hosting a few acoustic acts and DJs and advertising for other local bands for now.

While live music isn't the main draw, the the staff's iPod tastes and drink specials are definitely selling points. Cans of PBR are $1.50 all day every day, High Life specials are $2.50 and under, and the 3 o'clock license is a big boost to an area with not much more than college bars and gay bars (and let's be honest, neither is known for great music).

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*****
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I've made no secret of my hedonistic love for bacon. The texture, the flavor, the aroma, and the fact that it has felled many a vegetarian engender within me a fetishistic desire that has a tendency to disturb others, especially when chocolate is also involved.

Anyway, Salon reports that in addition to stimulating the appetites of food lovers everywhere, it appears as though bacon is making delicious, chewy waves in the fashion world, as well. I bought my friend bacon Band-Aids a few years ago, but I don't think even I could have predicted the below bacon-printed (and scented!) tuxedo.

A Pre-Grand Opening Look at The Stable!

2008-06-19T20:39:00.004-05:00

I'm not supposed to officially write about The Stable....yet. The grand opening isn't until Saturday (6/21) and I believe in giving a restaurant time to find its feet. I'm also friendly with the owners and kitchen.

In any case, I strongly recommend that all of you visit when you can. The taps are very micro-heavy, the food is spectacular (especially the pappardelle with smoked chicken, roasted red peppers, feta cheese, and sun-dried tomatoes), the decor is classic Jones (see Rotten Apple review), and hopefully, the few service burps will work themselves out within a couple of weeks.

Soooo worth the short trip to the Falstaff brewery complex at Lemp and Cherokee.

Here are a few pics to get you excited....

...Left Hand milk stout, O'Fallon 5 Day IPA, Scrimshaw Pilsner, and Hoegaarden

...The still, currently in the process of making local whiskey

...An at least two-story chandelier, assembled in pieces from salvaged stuff in the brewery complex

...That means booze!

...Another one of the chandeliers. Much like the huuuuge one, most of the features at The Stable were salvaged from old, falling down buildings.

Drink It, Black

2008-06-10T19:16:00.006-05:00

Or not. In this recent New York Times post, Oliver Schwaner-Albright writes about how cream and all its dairy siblings pollute -- pollute! -- coffee. He says "the flavors of an exceptional cup of coffee can be as layered and complex as a glass of pinot noir." To this, I would like to say the following to Mr. Schwaner-Albright:

Bitch, please.

How you take your coffee is a preference issue. My father takes his with sugar, no cream. My mother takes hers with cream, no sugar. My boyfriend takes his black. I take mine "regular," an East Coast term meaning with small, equal amounts of milk and sugar that, sadly, the Midwest has never adopted in language or practice. Perhaps we should thanks Starbucks for running "regular" into extinction with endless variations on "-ccino."

Why isn't preference ever enough for food snobs? I appreciate that people labeled as food snobs are educated about what they're consuming, but the key word there is "consuming." Paying money for cupping sessions wherein participants compete to identify flavors and aromas undetectable by uneducated sensory systems is work. What's so wrong with enjoying something for once?

I enjoy coffee. My ideal cuppa consists of dark French roast (preferably Kaldi's or Chauvin, both local and delicious), muscovado sugar, and whole milk. Perfect. I breathe deeply over my cup and immediately feel more alert, calm, and satisfied. I don't think about nutty aromas or spicy flavors.

But again, that's just me. I know all about standards and such (like, um, Folgers sucks?), but everything enjoyable is open to interpretation. Few booze experts will deny that a true martini is made with gin, but I can't think of many who would deny that vodka martinis can be just as tasty and inebriating.

I'm not buying the coffee beans that come from a fox's asshole. I haven't invested insane amounts of money and time to make myself feel special. I just like my coffee the way I like it. Bitter balances sweet. Milk softens acidity. Neither ruins quality coffee's essential robust character. I don't break it down into science, I just enjoy it.

(Though if I were to dissect my love for coffee into more elemental terms, I'd use the outstanding Grant Achatz article in the August 2008 issue of Food & Wine....go buy it if you're not already a subscriber and read all about Gerard Craft [whose Smoky Pork Pappardelle recipe is today's top choice!] in the process!)

Pollution rules.

RECIPE - Chili Garlic Oil

2008-06-07T12:41:00.004-05:00

This is possibly the easiest recipe ever. It's also cheap to make, lasts a long time, and lends a distinct flavor to everything it's added to.

What You'll Need....

1 empty glass bottle, thoroughly washed
1 wine bottle stopper
olive oil
1 bulb garlic, all cloves peeled and trimmed
red chili flakes

What You'll Do....

Peel and trim all of the cloves from one bulb of garlic so that they fit into your glass bottle.

Add red chili flakes. I have no idea how much I used. Probably a tablespoon or so.

Add olive oil. Fill nearly to the top (your wine bottle stopper should have a dry base when it's plugged into the bottle; if the oil gets inside the threads, it can turn rancid and the oxygen will rot the garlic).

I suppose you'd call it "cellaring," but put the filled, closed bottle in your pantry and leave it there for at least a couple of weeks. The flavor gets stronger the longer it sits, so keep that in mind when you're dipping your bread into it.

RECIPE - Chicken Tortilla Stew

2008-05-31T15:13:00.009-05:00

I've written before that I usually fall on the wrong side of the fine line between soups and stews. I try to make a stew and it ends up as a soup. I try to make a soup and it ends up as a stew. In this case, the more widely-known Chicken Tortilla Soup is now Chicken Tortilla Stew. I haven't yet learned how to apply reverse psychology techniques to my own cooking, but here's hoping.

What You'll Need.....

The Stew Stuff

4 chicken breasts
1 red bell pepper, chopped into bite-sized pieces
1 green bell pepper, chopped into bite-sized pieces
2 jalapeno peppers, minced
1 white onion, rough-chopped into small pieces
6 cloves garlic, minced
2 medium tomatillos, husked and minced
1 can black beans (I actually don't prefer frijoles negras, as they're less likely to be organic and usually come in flavored broth and/or sludge)
1 can diced tomatoes
1.5 cups frozen corn kernels, thawed
2 quarts chicken stock
7 white flour tortillas

The Seasoning

kosher salt
black pepper
cayenne pepper
chili powder
1 tsp. coriander
1 tsp. cumin

(You could also use 1 tbs. garam masala in place of the cumin and coriander...I had to because I forgot that I was out of both and didn't feel like going to the store.)

The Other Stuff

olive oil
canola or vegetable oil
mild white cheese such as queso fresco or panchego

***When I'm making something that requires a fair amount of vegetables, I usually prep my vegetables the night before. In this case, I chopped my bell peppers, jalapenos, and onion the night before and stored them in separate baggies.***

What You'll Do....

Preheat your oven to 400 degrees. While your oven is preheating, chop your bell peppers and onions (if you haven't already). Combine them for a sort of mirepoix. Set aside.

Spread your thawed corn kernels on a sprayed baking sheet. Season liberally with kosher salt, black pepper, chili powder, and cayenne. Set aside.

Rub chicken breasts with olive oil, kosher salt, and black pepper.

Place both corn and chicken in the oven. My oven was built in 1955, so it has two small racks and the heating element from the bottom is strong enough to fight the Russians. Because the chicken needs higher heat and I don't want the corn to burn, I place the chicken on the bottom rack.

(You may want to check the corn at least once and toss the kernels for even roasting. Whatev.)

While your chicken and corn are in the oven, prep your tomatillos, garlic, and jalapenos. Pick firm tomatillos with tight husks. Peel and clean them well; I don't know what the sticky stuff is on tomatillos but it's not pleasant.

Okay, so I said 6 cloves of garlic. I probably used 6 regular cloves and two more smaller cloves because, like butter and booze, I believe garlic makes everything better and I always use a lot of it.

Once your tomatillos and garlic are minced, combine them with your jalapenos.

WASH YOUR HANDS after you chop your jalapenos. Wash them three or four times. I am not kidding. Trust me, my eyes have suffered enough.

Separate your tortillas into two stacks -- one stack of 4 and one stack of 3.

Cut the 4-stack into bite-sized pieces. These will be used to thicken your stew and add a soft, pasta-like texture.

Cut the 3-stack into strips. These will be fried and used as garnish (and create a terrific crunch for your stew).

Remove corn from the oven. It smells pretty awesome.

Toss corn and its seasoning with the jalapenos, garlic, tomatillos, cumin, and coriander (or garam masala).

Remove the chicken when its done but before it starts to get dry (about 45 minutes). Turn oven down to 200, but don't turn it off. You'll need it later.

Shred chicken.

In a stock pot, heat a few tablespoons of olive oil over Medium High heat. Once the oil is hot, add your bell peppers and onions. Stir to coat evenly with oil. Cook until the onions are soft.

(If you happen to be distracted by an episode of Clean House and your onions burn a little bit, reduce the heat and hope no one will notice. If people do notice, tell them your vegetables were fire-roasted.)

Once your sort-of mirepoix is soft (and possibly a little burned), add canned diced tomatoes, black beans, jalapeno-tomatillo-garlic-corn mixture, and chicken. Stir to combine flavors.

Add two quarts of chicken stock. See those fire-roasted vegetables????

Lower heat to Simmer and go watch more crappy TV shows for 45 to an hour or so. It's stew, so you can get distracted all you want. Big deal.

After about an hour, add your bite-sized tortilla pieces. Stir to combine. Cover and wait until the stew has had a chance to thicken (maybe another 30-40 minutes).

While you're waiting for the stew to thicken, start frying the tortilla strips.

Pour a thin layer of vegetable or canola oil into a saucepan and turn to high. Once the oil is hot, fry the strips. Depending on the size of your saucepan, you should do this in phases. Only a single layer of strips is going to fry properly.

Once the tortilla strips are fried to a golden brown, spread them on a baking sheet and place in the oven until the stew is done. This will keep them crisp.

Once the stew is done, turn off the burner and oven heat. Remove the tortilla strips from the oven so they don't dry out.

(When you store the strips for leftovers, use a baggie with a paper towel inside. This can soak up excess oil.)

Some people serve Chicken Tortilla Stew (or soup) with garnishes like salsa, avocado, or other vegetables. I'm a meat-and-tortillas kind of person, and I think I put enough vegetables into the stew already.

For me, crispy tortilla strips and some mild, creamy panchego cheese crumbles provide the ideal textural contrast to the meaty, spicy, smoky, toothy, and, yes, veggie stew.

How To Sound A Gulp...Barbarically

2008-05-30T18:06:00.002-05:00

Alert for a pretty little St. Louis food blog....

Sounding My Barbaric Gulp! by Kelly Schmickle (met her at a sneak preview of The Stables, can't wait to have another drink with Peg....you'll see).

Go there. Read her. Learn about fiascos.

The Best Sandwiches in St. Louis

2008-05-29T21:25:00.005-05:00

For the best-looking version of this post (including one containing working links), please visit the MySpace home of STL Delicious. Also featured on that site are answers for Best Gyro (The Gyro Company on Gravois, per Julia Gulia) and Best Veggie Sandwich (Adrianna's on The Hill, per Lizzzzzzzz). Anyway....

After reading a recent New York Times article about the best new sandwiches in New York, I was inspired to write my own list of what I find to be the best sandwiches in St. Louis. I'm not sure how these rank with everyone else; if the RFT's Best Of list has taught me anything, it's that most St. Louisans don't share my tastes. My apologies to Tin Can. I heart your meatloaf but who the hell thinks that's the best mac n' cheese in the city? Cheese don't need sugar, people.

STL Delicious List of the Best Sandwiches in St. Louis

1. Best Overall Sandwich -- Cubano Sandwich at La Tropicana. Pulled pork roasted mojito-style (with rum!), ham, cheese, and pickles on pressed bread. I love pork, cheese, and bread. I hate pickles. But at La Tropicana, I eat the crisp, briny slices anyway. And I like them.

2. Best Burger -- O'Connell's. I've heard they simply throw them in the deep fryer, but I don't care.

3. Best Chicken Sandwich -- Grilled Chicken Breast Sandwich at Square One Brewery. I admire any restaurant that can take something so simple, plain, and often abused and make it downright great. This sandwich comes on chewy ciabatta bread with thick bacon, scallions, a blend of cheeses (don't know which ones, don't care), and the absolute best honey mustard sauce ever. Seriously. It converted my formerly honey mustard-hating friend with a single bite.

4. Best Turkey Sandwich -- Southwest Turkey at Macklind Avenue Deli. Ah, my first ever STL Delicious review and the very first thing I tried on their menu. It still gets my vote for the cool lettuce, fresh red onion, and the addictive chipotle sauce.

5. Best Hot Roast Beef Sandwich -- Mama Toscano's. Despite the wonky hours of this Hill classic (perhaps better known for supplying area restaurants with my nemesis, toasted ravioli), the Hot Roast Beef is a tender wonder that moistens and flavors the bread without drenching it in salty, manufactured broth like you'll find in some other delis.

6. Best Meatball Sub -- Gioia's. It's not only the fat meatballs that make this sandwich great, it's the luscious marinara and the gooey, milky cheese. Extra points for eating it across the street in Berra Park.

7. Best Fish Sandwich -- Grilled Salmon at the Schlafly Tap Room. Simple. Tasty. Not fried (don't get me wrong, I do love me some fish and chips on occasion). Super red pepper sauce. Now, if they'd only put the same amount of energy into running their frequently-down Web site.

8. Best Seafood Sandwich -- (because there's a difference between freshwater fish and food from the sea) Louisiana Crab Cake Sandwich from Sage. You'll read all about it in the review I'm writing this weekend.

9. Best Muffaletta -- Blues City Deli. I'm sure you've seen them near the top of my friends list. Trust me, they wouldn't be there if their sandwiches weren't spectacular. A good portion of my newer friends were culled from their list, too, and I've had more than a few of you write to tell me your favorites on their menu.

10. Best Falafel -- Al-Tarboush. As a sucker for independent, family-owned, dead honest places in St. Louis, I cannot get enough of Al-Tarboush in The Loop. It helps that their falafel is crisp, warm, spicy, cool, and tangy at the same time. It helps that it goes so well with their lemony hummus platter. Lastly, it super helps that the owner is a nice guy who recognizes a girl in need and kindly lifts the "No Public Restroom" rule.

11. Best Burrito -- Chicken Mole Verde or Pork in Red Sauce with Spicy Potatoes at El Burrito Loco. Available in small, medium, or large sizes. Two mediums last me a couple of dinners. Another family-owned place that I'm thrilled to see doing well.

***Yes, I'm aware of the taquerias on Cherokee, but in this blog, tacos aren't sandwiches. Some other time, okay?***

12. Best Gyro -- I honestly don't know. Suggestions?

13. Best Breakfast Sandwich -- I'm about to lose any shred of credibility I have and Rooster is way cooler, but I'll always go for Hardee's Bacon Egg and Cheese Biscuit.

14. Best Breakfast Sandwich That Really Isn't a Breakfast Sandwich -- Bacon and Eggs Sandwich at Niche. Damn you, Gerard Craft, damn you for being so good. Congratulations on the Food & Wine Best New Chef nomination and everything, it's just that reservations will be hard to come by now. Just keep on with that so-super-succulent pork belly, okay?

15. Best Banh Mi -- Umm, Banh Mi So. Duh. Another one of those Al-Tarboush-like local suckerpunches to my belly. Banh Mi So is a place I'll probably never review because I love it so much. It's difficult to get me away from the pho, but their banh mi with crunchy veggies, peanuts, and juicy pork on french bread is my second favorite menu item.
16. Best Sandwich I Can't Categorize -- Peppered Pork Sandwich at Iron Barley. Bring a napkin. Better yet, bring eight.

Oh, I heart you Macklind Avenue Deli....

Where I've Been -- Excuses, Other Stories, and a Double Review!

2008-05-29T16:12:00.006-05:00

Yeah, yeah, yeah. It's been awhile. Aside from the usual excuses (work, friends, laziness, fickle wireless connection), I've also been building the STL Delicious MySpace page. One of the MySpace posts, "Best Sandwiches in St. Louis," was unfortunately posted on MySpace before Blogger, meaning that it'll be a pain in the ass to re-type. Damn Ruper tMurdoch for poor formatting.

I'll post it here. I promise. Sometime.

Go out to MySpace if you just can't wait.

Anyway, I was all set to post a review of Sage, someplace I went nearly a month ago and just haven't gotten around to writing about yet. Then I realized that I'd been quite a few places and perhaps my inability to hammer out the entire Sage review wasn't such a bad thing. It was looking a little long, besides.

With this in mind, here's a rundown of where I've been lately and what I've been eating....

Sage
1031 Lynch St.
St. Louis, MO 63118
(314) 256-1203
www.saucemagazine.com/sage

Sage is located in the old Lynch Street Bistro space and looks about eight billion times better. The colors are softer. The bar is more welcoming. The crowd, at least the one that gathers around 7:00pm, isn't as business-heavy.

The bar itself stocks a decent wine selection, your typical liquors, and, of course, is heavily leaning towards the A-B portfolio for beer. I've got a wide range of tastes, so I was glad to order an elegant tulip glass of Shock Top Belgian White, a new seasonal-turned-year-round brew that's good enough to shut up the beer snobs. At least from what I've seen on the Internet, anyway.

The appetizer menu at Sage isn't particularly inspired, but it skews comfortably far from the toasted ravioli list so typical of just about every joint in Soulard. Our choices, the Trio of Mini Sandwiches and Cha-Cha Calamari, were pretty superb.

Sort of.

The Trio of Mini Sandwiches includes the following sandwiches: Beef Tenderloin with Horseradish Cream (hot-tangy horseradish butter, peppery beef, surprisingly tender for such a small piece), Louisiana Crab Cake with Roasted Red Pepper Spread (silky crab meat seasoned perfectly and not drowning in mayo or breadcrumbs), and Tuscan Chicken with Honey Mustard (kind of pointless, tasted like something from Wendy's).

With the exception of the "Tuscan" Chicken, the sandwiches were just fine...until we got to the calamari.

The Cha-Cha Calamari is listed on the menu as tossed in a Asian cream sauce, but it really tasted more like a honey and ginger glaze. While there were hints of fire and a subtle, lingering heat from the chiffonaded chilis, the real selling point of the calamari was its size and texture. The thick, meaty tendrils were cooked until just done, the light breading hadn't gone gummy, and the scallions provided just the right amount of crunch to keep the dish from turning leaden after one too many chews.

Which wouldn't have been necessary, anyway.

Forgive the poorly-lit picture, but below are our entrees, Boursin and Sun Dried-Stuffed Chicken Breast (foreground) and Sage Seafood Capellini (background).

I don't normally order chicken.

It's not that I don't like it, it's just that I rarely see the point. Chicken is boring. Chicken is bland. Chicken's got no cojones, at least not in 99% of the restaurants I've been to. But this one is made with pancetta gravy.

Mmmm, pancetta. Mmmmm, gravy.

After checking with our server, I was told that the pancetta gravy was not a "lame sauce" as I'd feared, but that it was indeed meaty, smoky, salty, and creamy enough to make me like chicken. Our server's assurance combined with the promise of boursin made me slightly disappointed when I actually tasted it.

The pancetta gravy was incredible, okay? Shredded pancetta studded the velvety gravy and caused me to reconsider my problems with breakfast gravy. The rest of the dish, however, was pretty underwhelming. The boursin might as well have been Philly cream cheese and the "sun dried tomato" was as neon orange and flavorless as cheap tomato powder.

What I tasted of my friend's Sage Seafood Capellini was decent. The pasta was slightly overcooked, but the clams, lump blue crab, and lemony artichokes (lots of artichokes) provided a double wallop of flavor and texture for a satisfying dish.

Sage's dessert menu relies on the shooter concept, that is, tiny shot glasses of dessert cakes, sauces, puddings, etc. that can safely be enjoyed after a huge meal. My decision, the blueberry bourbon brioche with a small puddle of vanilla cream, was FREAKING. FANTASTIC.

Onward.....

La Tropicana
5001 Lindenwood
St. Louis, MO 63109
(314) 353-7328
www.latropicana.com

This isn't really a review.

How can it be? Everyone in St. Louis has been to La Tropicana. They know about the outstanding pernil, the roasted chicken, the cubano sandwich, and the charming patio. What does anything I have to say matter?

Well, it doesn't, but I feel guilty about the laziness and feel compelled to include a few things here. So here goes.

My most recent visit to La Tropicana was Cinco de Mayo. Luckily, Cinco de Mayo is the day before my birthday, a happy little circumstance that gives me double license to enjoy the hell out of some margaritas. La Tropicana gives me license to enjoy the hell of of them along with the very best sandwiches and roasted meats in the city.

As you'll see when you visit my Best Sandwiches in St. Louis post on MySpace, La Tropicana has the very best all-around sandwich in St. Louis. To quote myself....

Best Overall Sandwich -- Cubano Sandwich at La Tropicana. Pulled pork roasted mojito-style (with rum!), ham, cheese, and pickles on pressed bread. I love pork, cheese, and bread. I hate pickles. But at La Tropicana, I eat the crisp, briny slices anyway. And I like them.

I was all sandwiched out by Cinco de Mayo, so below you can check out the gorgeously caramelized roasted chicken, the blurry-yet-unbelieveably moist pernil (like I said, margaritas), and the addictive maduros, yuca, and spicy rice and beans paired with each one.

Terrific pane, too.

And I honestly don't remember how many of La Tropicana's margaritas I'd had by this point. I was with people, there were pitchers, I can't be expected to keep track of these things. I will say that La Tropicana's margaritas are far and away better than Chimichanga's, not quite as tasty as Lily's, but certainly bigger than both and absolutely heaven when paired with the food.

RECIPE - Basic Flavor Rub

2008-04-13T19:43:00.004-05:00

Yes, you could always shake a bunch of dried mystery dust from a jar on whatever it is you're planning to cook. It's not going to kill you. It might taste satisfactory, at least depending on what you're used to eating.

It's fine. I guess.

Or you could assemble a few simple ingredients and mash yourself up a Basic Flavor Rub that works awesomely on fish, chicken, lamb, beef, pork, or whatever other crazy meat you happen to find in your neighborhood. It works well on vegetables, too, or at least ones with strong flavors like asparagus or nearly anything you put on the grill.

Here's what you'll need:

A few cloves of garlic. I'm addicted to the stuff (Greatest. Flavor. Ever.) so I used 4 cloves.
Black pepper
Kosher salt
Thyme
Red chili flakes
Olive oil

Quantities aren't really important here. It's a Basic FLAVOR Rub, so the amount of flavor you put into it really depends on your taste and how much food you're about to make. I live by myself and usually cook for 2 people tops, so I use only enough ingredients that fit in my mortar and pestle.

Ohhhh, my mortar and pestle. So pretty. So hefty. So sexy. I never had one until about 6 months ago, and now I can't understand how people live without them. Okay, so maybe they buy food processors. Yawn. I'll admit that a high-end food processor would be pretty cool for some things, but there's a sense of accomplishment that comes from owning and using a mortar and pestle to create super combinations of flavor.

Alright, here's what you should do....

Trim the ends of your garlic and smash the cloves. If you're using a mortar and pestle (or a food processor, I guess), you don't need to mince it. A gentle beating is enough to make your garlic nice and mashable.

Add your black pepper, kosher salt, thyme, chili flakes, and olive oil. These ingredients make this a BASIC Flavor Rub, as each of them complements a wide variety of food.

Start mashing. The amount pictured here took about 20 minutes to mash to my satisfaction. This sounds like a lot of work, but it's more about sort of smooshing the flavors together. It's not labor intensive and crushing those bits of garlic into a tasty mess is pretty satisfying.

So aromatic I could wear it....

Below is what my finished Basic Flavor Rub looks like. The garlic isn't totally pulverized, but it's small enough to make a paste with the other ingredients. It's easily spreadable on whatever you're cooking and not so runny that it drips off to burn in the bottom of whatever you're using.

The End.

Guess I'm a Meanivore

2008-04-09T18:11:00.002-05:00

-- Toothpaste for Dinner

REVIEW - Murdoch Perk

2008-04-05T19:12:00.005-05:00

Murdoch Perk
5400 Murdoch
St. Louis, MO 63109
(314) 752-9126
www.murdochperk.net

I admit to having a preconceived notion of what Murdoch Perk might be. I mean, come on. A coffee place in South City with a name not even cleverly stolen from a sitcom? Jeez, at least Central Perk made sense. Murdoch Perk doesn't mean much of anything.

But they do serve breakfast, lunch, and coffee, and they have outside tables. I cannot be held responsible for the places I go when the weather is nice.

Speaking of nice weather, I'll say that Murdoch Perk does have a nice patio. It's accessible from outside the building and from inside the store, and much like the side, it's simple, comfortable, and pretty. Each table has an umbrella, and if you can't manage stairs, you can always camp out on the small deck.

Murdoch Perk is sort of a coffee place/restaurant hybrid. You order at the counter, receive a tiny number card on a metal stand, and take your seat. The employees bring your food to your table, so you can claim an outside table without worrying about when to run back inside for your food.

The menu itself is understandably limited. Pastries, crepes (sweet and savory), sandwiches, salads, and coffee drinks that are recognizable but not pointlessly ambitious (do we really need more made-up words ending in "-ccino?"). Two large soft drinks, two side salads, and two sandwiches set us back about $22.00.

It only took about five minutes to receive our food, which (much like Macklind Avenue Deli, about 10 steps down the street) was thankfully served on real plates with actual cutlery. My sandwich, Hawaiian Ham with lettuce, pineapple-mango salsa and teriyaki mayonnaise, was served alongside the spinach salad with red onions, goat cheese, toasted almonds, and a raspberry vinaigrette.

It's not a good sign when your salad is better than your sandwich.

To be positive, let's start with the salad. Because I laugh in the face of e. coli (and haven't eaten a vegetable for probably two days), I ordered the spinach salad. Another bonus was the goat cheese, which I could probably eat from a trough every single day for the rest of my life. This salad was topped with creamy goat cheese crumbles, not the dry, pebbly industrial stuff the Schnuck's in Hampton Village seems so fond of selling. The cheese also provided a textural counterpoint to the crunchy almonds and onions, and it's pungency was balanced by the sweetness of the vinaigrette.

Okay, I'm done being positive. It hurts my teeth. Onto the sandwich....

I've got nothing against messy sandwiches. In fact, I usually prefer them. But when your sandwich is falling apart on your plate before you've even touched it, perhaps there's a tad too much liquid involved. This suspicion was confirmed when I attempted to lift up half of the sandwich. Fail. Sweet, orange-ish juice from the salsa had already pooled at the bottom of the plate, soaking most of the bread into mush.

The ham itself was moist enough, veined with soft fat without being greasy or gristly. It was missing some salt, though, and almost totally overpowered by the pineapple-mango salsa.

Worst. Salsa. Ever.

It was allegedly made with pineapple, mango, and red peppers, but with the exception of a few pulpy sections in my teeth, I didn't see or taste much pineapple. The peppers tasted like...well, they tasted like nothing, which makes me think they were Cuisinart-ed from a jar. The mango was most prevalent, and it's syrupy sweetness was so cloying that I have no problem assuming it all came from the same fruit cup.

The teriyaki should have provided a salty/sweet note to the ham, but I honestly couldn't detect any of it in the glop of mayonnaise (more unnecessary wetness, and yes, that sort of thing can exist).

If I had made the sandwich, I would have kept the lightly-toasted, multigrain bread. That was good, and the crusts had been mercifully saved from the fruit juice on my plate. I'd have included more pineapple in the salsa, less mango, and chosen fresh cilantro instead of the wilted, soaked leaves slimily clinging to the fruit I ate. I also would have drained it before serving, and maybe dressed it up with a hit of serrano.

I'll be back to Murdoch Perk someday for the Kaldi's and the patio. Instead of eating there, though, I'll stick with Macklind Avenue Deli.

-- The Eater.

STL Delicious is on MySpace!

2008-03-27T21:00:00.002-05:00

STL Delicious now has a second home on MySpace. Blogger will still be its primary home, but I think it will be a bit more accessible to the locals. Prepare to get friend requested like MAD, everyone!

RECIPE - Pancetta-Wrapped Pork Tenderloin with Sauteed Swiss Chard and Cannellini Beans

2008-03-17T16:09:00.009-05:00

This was, by far, the very best recipe I've come up with so far. The most important reason is because it's delicious. Although it has three parts, it's incredibly simple. It also sounds pretty impressive. To make my Pancetta-Wrapped Pork Tenderloin with Sauteed Swiss Chard and Cannellini Beans, you'll need the following.....

For the Pork

1 pork tenderloin
1 small package pancetta -- I like Volpi because it's local and the package sizes are perfect for this type of thing. You could also use bacon, but I prefer the air-cured flavor and pliant texture of pancetta
1/4 cup apple cider vinegar
1 tbs. soy sauce
4 tbs. brown sugar
cayenne pepper
kosher salt
black pepper

For the Swiss Chard

1 bunch swiss chard
3 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 lemon
2 tbs. olive oil

For the Cannellini Beans

1 can (12 oz.) cannellini or other medium-sized, soft white beans
3 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 lemon
1 tsp. crushed red pepper flakes

Okay, let's start with the pork. You'll want to marinate this for 3 to 4 hours, so plan accordingly. My marinade is made with apple cider vinegar, soy sauce, and 2 tbs. brown sugar.

I combine all of these in a Ziploc freezer bag, squeeze out the air, and stick in the fridge. I think I marinated this one for about 3 and a half hours, but anything less than 6 is fine. After that, the vinegar will start to "cook" the pork, making the outside dark and unpleasantly chewy.

Yargh, let's set sail for Pork Island!

While your pork is marinating, you can prep your swiss chard and beans. Swiss chard is what makes this recipe impressive because so few people are used to eating it. A leafy, spinach-like vegetable, swiss chard also comes with brightly colored stalks that are not only tasty to eat, but they're so beautiful on the plate.

To cook swiss chard, you'll just need the very basic ingredients of olive oil, garlic, and lemon. Crushed red pepper flakes are optional, but in this recipe, I'm using them in the beans.

To start, cut the stems off of your swiss chard. They're tougher and will need to cook a little longer than the leaves. Cut the stems into 1/2 inch pieces and set them aside.

Next, chop your leaves. It's okay to keep the upper stems attached, because as long as you chop them well, they'll be mostly separated from the tender leaves, anyway. Set the leaves aside. I placed the separate bags of the stems and leaves in the fridge to use later.

Next, prep your beans. Like I mentioned in the ingredients list, any medium-sized, soft white beans will do. There's nothing wrong with canned beans. I prefer them because I don't have time to soak. Loosely drain the beans and place them in a bowl along with the juice of 1/2 a lemon, 3 cloves of minced garlic, and 1 tsp. of red chili flakes.

Cover the bowl and place in the refrigerator. It's important to marinate the beans just like you're marinating the pork. Beans soak up a lot of flavor, and the garlicky, lemony heat will be a perfect addition to the swiss chard later.

Wait for 3 to 4 hours. Watch the Food Network Recipe Challenge and laugh at the people who worked really hard only to end up with an appetizer at TGI Friday's.

Once you've waited patiently, pre-heat your oven to 360 degrees.

Remove your pork from the marinade (SAVE the marinade!) and pat it dry. This is so your dry rub ingredients -- brown sugar, cayenne pepper, kosher salt, black pepper -- will adhere to the pork while it cooks.

Once you've thoroughly rubbed your pork with the dry rub, wrap it with your pancetta. I do this on top of a wire rack sprayed with Pam (great stuff, don't let anybody tell you any different) inside of a foil-covered pan. After you've wrapped it, spoon a little of the marinade on top. This will allow the pancetta to caramelize with some of the marinade's flavor.

After your pork tenderloin has been cooking for about 35 to 40 minutes (depending on your oven, mine was built in 1955), start on your swiss chard.

Remember how I said that the stems need more cooking time? Heat 2 tbs. of olive oil over Medium High. Once the olive oil is hot, add your stems. This only takes about 10 minutes, but stir them frequently to avoid charring.

After 10 minutes over Medium High, reduce heat to Medium and add your marinated beans. They will have released some garlic, lemon, and chili-infused liquid by this point, which will slow the cooking of the stems.

After only a couple of minutes (always stirring!), add your leaves. Stir a few times to coat the leaves with the olive oil and liquid from the beans. Much like spinach, swiss chard will reduce significantly in size as it cooks.

Cook swiss chard for about 5-7 minutes. Add a pinch of kosher salt and the juice from 1/2 a lemon towards the end to add flavor and further tenderize the stems and leaves.

After you remove the swiss chard from the heat, remove pork tenderloin from the oven. The pancetta should be brown and caramelized in some places but not all.

To see if it's done, slice the tenderloin at its thickest point. It should be juicy and slightly pink in the middle.

YES, pork can be served medium! Today's pork is raised to be far leaner than it was in the days when cooking it less than well was a health risk. Medium pork is tender, moist, incredibly flavorful, and almost silky in texture.

If your pork is done, slice it width-wise and serve on a bed of swiss chard. Top with pancetta. Although I'm sure you could enjoy wine with this, the beans are going to be pretty fiery. I recommend a bracing, hoppy beer like New Belgium's Springboard Ale.

The End.

Chain Restaurants Attack the Suburbs!

2008-03-13T21:55:00.003-05:00

I may be a proud resident (and customer!) of St. Louis City, but a part of me is amused weekly by Bob Rybarczyk's Suburban Fringe column. This week's column, West County's Great, As Long As You Don't Like Food, reads like a hilarious dispatch from the hell I've avoided (gladly, considering the rent) for all my years in St. Louis.

It's not just the rent that deters me from the county. It's the stultifying sameness of everything planted like daises alongside the interstate. There aren't any independent restaurants. No business that doesn't have a professionally-designed Web site. Unlike the proprietors of my favorite neighborhood pho joint or burrito takeout, no server at Applebee's could ever be expected to recognize my face and say hello without fear of a reprimand from the district office.

I get Mr. Rybarczyk (oh, hell, he seems like the kind of guy who would insist on Bob) when he complains about gas prices and the hourlong round trip drive for a meal made with integrity. I wouldn't fault him for being apprehensive about $3.09 a gallon for a decent plate of food. I may never be willing to submit to the suburbs, but in a show of appreciative solidarity, I'll gladly buy Bob a beer if I ever see him in my neighborhood.

No Reservations Is Porn

2008-03-10T21:47:00.002-05:00

God DAMMIT I love this show. I'm currently finishing a 6-pack and watching the "Into the Fire" episode, a sort of behind-the-scenes look at Brasserie Les Halles and the fun, fucked-up, glorious mess that is the kitchen life.

I'm not sure if I'll regret this one day or not, but at the moment, I think I'd rather have a drink with Anthony Bourdain than with Mick Jagger.

REVIEW - Iron Barley

2008-03-05T19:18:00.004-06:00

Iron Barley
5510 Virginia
St. Louis, MO 63111
(314) 351-4500
www.ironbarley.com

Iron Barley is one of those places everyone has heard about but will get around to visiting "one of these days." Well, "one of these days" is becoming less and less of an excuse, especially when you hear that it's been in the same unassuming location at Bates and Virginia for five years now.

Although it's hard to find someone who's been there, this disappears once you walk through the door. Once in, you find yourself looking into the faces of relaxed regulars who could probably amble back to the nearly open kitchen and dip a pinkie finger into the sauce. Just for a taste. The staff at Iron Barley could either crack the interloper over the head with a frying pan or just tell them to grab a spoon. It's hard to tell, because they look perfectly capable of both.

That's the thing about Iron Barley. What would seem odd in most places isn't here, and it's those kind of either/or paradoxes that are satisfying, well, either way.

A 20-minute wait in a place with no more than 15 tables might seem claustrophobic were it not for the genuinely welcoming atmosphere. Iron Barley's rough-hewn bar, strange collection of bric-a-brac, and well-edited beer selection make waiting a pleasant stopover to the eventual meal. The taps of Schlafly, O'Fallon, New Belgium, Goose Island, and the single A-B beer (Bare Knuckle Stout) were front-and-center, but the bottled menu on each table was nowhere to be found near our stools.

Like the bartender, our server embodied the apparent spirit of Iron Barley: casual, friendly, and humble. If you're looking for cleavage or giggles over light beer, this is not the place for you. Our server was able to speak like the very accommodating owner of a house we happened to stumble into after smelling good food from the street.

She also rattled off the specials menu without pause, no small feat considering it seemed as long as the regular menu. Iron Barley's standard appetizer list isn't too varied; there are only two options, and both are shellfish. I've no problem with BBQ shrimp or mussels with tomato cream sauce, butI was discouraged by the lack of effort on paper.

Part of the specials menu, a crab cake appetizer with roasted pepper sauce and field greens, arrived only about five minutes after we'd ordered it (a bonus, as we were now in the middle of our second round). A single cake, it was dense without being loaded with soggy bread crumbs and mayonnaise typical of most Midwestern crab cakes. I would have preferred more lump crab, but the meaty flavor and fiery bell pepper-and-chili sauce were well-balanced with the silky texture, cool greens, and crisp breading.

The entree menu at Iron Barley is longer than the appetizer list and predictably straightforward for a South City joint. Perhaps too straightforward. There are no descriptions, so I had no idea that my Oak Roasted Pork "Pruner" (an already large portion that I assume is even smaller than the more expensive "Lumberjack" option) came resting on a toothy red wine-barley risotto with mushrooms. This wasn't explained by the server, either, which I found odd. The risotto went beautifully with the smoky, sweet, and tender pork. Why not say something about it?

Our other entree was chosen from the much more descriptive specials menu - Beef Tenderloin Medallions with Spinach, Bearnaise, and Roasted Bleu Cheese. Our server pointed out that another version is listed on the menu as "Tenderloin of Beef Pepper Steak," but true to specials form, a few tweaks created a different dish every night.

I'm not sure if I have a talent for ordering the best thing on the menu, but the beef entree was excellent. It's a classic dish, really, when you consider that Entrecote Bearnaise with Creamed Spinach is a warhorse of old-school steakhouses. Iron Barley's version is simpler. The spinach is flash-sauteed with butter and soft onions and serves as a bed for the tenderloin slices. The bearnaise is covered with bleu cheese, which is the passed under a broiler instead of the more menu-friendly term "roasted."

Bearnaise is an overlooked sauce in most home kitchens and, increasingly, in restaurants. Few people understand how perfectly it complements something with little inherent flavor like beef tenderloin. Iron Barley uses an old sauce in a smart, modern fashion. Instead of being used to drown the tenderloin, the bearnaise lends moisture without ever taking away from the ideal char of the meat.

Deconstruction is fun, but only when a restaurant doesn't talk about. And Iron Barley doesn't.

Balaban's Has CLOSED

2008-01-31T09:58:00.000-06:00

Sad. What a great restaurant in a beautiful space.

"St Louis Restaurant Scene Loses A Legend," St. Louis Post-Dispatch

RECIPE - Roasted Broccoli with Garlic and Parmesan

2008-01-29T00:05:00.001-06:00

Awhile back, I wrote that every vegetable I've been eating lately was roasted. I do it because it smells and tastes better than steaming and there's less cleanup than anything else. I don't feel awesome about creating a sheet of aluminum foil waste, but I do recycle nearly everything else.

No one I grew up with ever ate roasted broccoli. As a result, everyone I recommend it to reacts like I'm telling them to make their own stock (difficult, no matter what Michael Ruhlman tells you) or slaughter their own chickens (icky, no matter how noble).

What they're missing is that roasting broccoli brings out a sweeter, nuttier taste, and that throwing some garlic and parmesan into the mix actually makes me not hate a vegetarian meal. Here's how I does it....

What You'll Need:

3 heads of broccoli, or however many of that sort of thing (florets, etc.) you need
1 or 2 cloves garlic, depending on taste
olive oil, just enough to barely coat broccoli
black pepper, to taste
kosher salt, to taste
grated Parmesan cheese (please not the kind that comes from a can)

What You'll Do:

Preheat oven to 400 degrees
Cut broccoli into florets, small enough to be manageable bites
Mince garlic
Toss florets and garlic with olive oil, black pepper, kosher salt
Place florets on baking sheet (I spray mine with Pam because it's easy and tasteless), place in oven.

Roast for 10-15 minutes, or long enough so that the broccoli has just started to crisp and brown.

***I like my broccoli just past al dente. It's a product of growing up in a household where every vegetable was cooked to mush***

7. Once your broccoli is al dente, turn oven to broil and sprinkle with grated Parmesan cheese. You'll only need to broil for a minute, possibly 90 seconds, before it's barely melting and starts to smell verrrrry good.

This is what happens. It's not burnt, it's browned. It's not bitter, it's sweet and nutty and (possibly, it's a vegetable) healthy and tasty.

An Open Letter to the Vegans of the World

2008-01-12T19:15:00.001-06:00

Dear Vegans,

Hello. How are you? Actually, I'm only asking to be polite, as I know from experience that the majority of you are sallow, pallid, malnourished, unhappy little grouches. I honestly don't care how you are, but you probably don't care that I don't care. According to you, I'm a bloodthirsty evildoer intent on decimating cute and cuddly creatures all over the world.

Please.

Seriously, Vegans, who do you think you're kidding? You're so kind, so just, and so fucking evolved because you don't eat anything produced by a being that can blink. You're convinced that eating meat is cruel, and that by loving me some bacon, I'm participating in the worldwide slaughterhouse conspiracy to ruin the planet for tree nymphs like you. By not buying varying shapes of bean curd (it's just like you're eating meat, only squishy and tasteless!), I've become nothing more than a humanoid collection of carcasses.

Maybe the correct question isn't "who do you think you're kidding?" Maybe it's "what are you so afraid of?"

Look, it's not like the animal agriculture industry is ideal. I've seen the PETA videos, too. On the whole, the meat-producing industry in the United States is a giant, unsanitary, killing machine built with the single purpose of providing the worst quality for the cheapest price. I'll agree that most Americans are content to chaw on flavorless, factory-farmed crap as long as it costs less than a free-range chicken. Well, Vegans, I hate to burst your "I am so smart" bubble, but I'm not most Americans.

I'll gladly pay more for pork chops if they came from a fat, free-to-turn-around, grain-fed pig. I've got no problem with $3.00 extra if I know I'm not ingesting scary amounts of growth hormone. But even though these options are widely available in nearly every major city, you're still terrified of polluting yourself with meat or its by-products.

And speaking of polluting your bodies, what must you think of societies that evolved around the necessity of killing animals and eating them? Would you decry an indigenous village in the Amazon because they spear fish? What about a family in Nepal whose entire livelihood -- food, clothing, shelter -- depends on the yaks they raise? Are they somehow barbaric because they still depend on animals for sustenance? They might not have iPhones, but there's something to be said for a culture that has survived for a millennia without toilet paper. You have a full-on meltdown if Whole Foods doesn't carry your particular brand of spelt (don't lie, I've seen you).

How arrogant can you be?

Let's not stop at arrogance. How about joyless? Tell me with a modicum of honesty that any one of you actually gets excited about food. Foie gras (responsibly farmed, STFU about the torture of gavage because these geese come to be fed...that's one video PETA doesn't want you to see) has rendered me speechless, but I've never experienced a near-transcedental moment with mung beans. You're not monks, for Chrissakes. Don't act like shunning eggs is a holy act of sacrifice.

In case I've managed to offend vegetarians with this, I apologize. I know several vegetarians. I won't go to their barbecues, but they're decent people. They've chosen their path for health reasons or because they truly do care about animal rights. They're also not stupid enough to claim that a wool sweater was made from the exploitation of the noble sheep.

Okay.

Vegans, do the world a favor and keep your eccentric fears about food to yourselves. Don't you scoff at me for my cheese, my omelets, my sirloins, or my floor-length mink coat (I kid, I kid). Don't claim to be silent until someone asks about your choice, either. I know a disapproving look when I see it.

I don't want your Tofurkey. I don't want your disdain. I don't want you at my table, either, because even the potatoes have pork fat in them.

Sincerely,

The Eater

Logo by Stu, available in T-shirt form at Threadless.

REVIEW - Three Monkeys

2008-01-06T22:39:00.000-06:00

Three Monkeys
3153 Morganford Rd.
St. Louis, MO 63116
(314) 772-9800
www.3monkeysstl.com

I'm not so much concerned with living in the hippest of places, so the martini bars and vodka lounges that do so well on South Grand and in the Central West End aren't what impress me. However, I'm always excited about new businesses in South City, and I'm especially glad when they do well. With this in mind, I stopped by Three Monkeys on Saturday night.

I got there around 7:30 and the place was packed. I was sort of taken aback by this, because I've been to Tin Can (right across the street) and Tower Pub (a few blocks up the street), and neither of them had ever been this busy so early on a Saturday night. When I walked in and looked at the majority of the customers, it made sense. The clientele of Three Monkeys seems to be mostly 35-60, heavier on the -60 portion.

(This was surprising, because I first heard about Three Monkeys from some 20-something friends, one of whom spends money on his Air Jordan collection and the other with impeccable taste in modern furniture. Maybe more people my age do go to Three Monkeys, just not at 7:30 on a Saturday night.)

Although the wait for one of the seven tables was 45 minutes, Three Monkeys does have a gorgeous bar and a friendly staff, one member of which was the hostess who didn't even blink when "Fuck" was my response to the wait time. (I later apologized.) There's also an excellent draught beer selection featuring the standard Schlafly line (Hefeweizen, Pale Ale, APA, and the seasonal ESB) as well as harder-to-find selections like Delirium Tremens and Young's Double Chocolate Stout. It was the beer selection and impressive, dark wooden arches that made the wait bearable.

Standing around for about an hour (45 minute waits are highly subjective when a group of 50-somethings refuses to get up after they've been finished for 30 minutes) makes you hungry, so we each decided on appetizers. Jungle Love is Three Monkeys' name for nachos with "fire-roasted" ships, beef, pulled bbq pork, lettuce, tomato, onion, olives, jalapenos, and cheese.

Nice concept for people who have been drinking beer for an hour, but more pulled bbq pork and chips that don't taste like sawdust might be nice. I will say that the jalapenos were especially potent, though, and that I really don't know why I expect so much from nachos.

I was given free reign over the pizza selection. This is why we came to Three Monkeys in the first place. I'd been told that their wood-fired pizzas were awesome, and my friends who had the Seafood Pizza (crab, shrimp, crawfish, calamari) were very happy. Seafood is all well and good, but I'm still a carnivore at heart. With this in mind, I decided to choose my pizza (12.95 for a 16", $1.75 extra for each topping). I picked andouille and crawfish.

Our pizza took awhile to arrive, and our server explained that someone in the kitchen had dropped a slice. When it did get to our table, it seemed like the resulting rush on our order might have been responsible for the soft and wimpy center of the crust. That says a lot, because these are New York-style pizzas and are best eaten folded over. LOTS of soft, wimpy crust to deal with. The crawfish was fine (not fishy), but the andouille was so bland that I thought it might be Eckrich smoked sausage.

(At least it wasn't a provel-and-Saltine St. Louis style pizza.)

Overall, I'd say that Three Monkeys has a beautiful bar, a friendly and genuinely happy staff, but that their menu selections are a bit too stuck in the bar food category to make me want to eat there again.

What I Need

2008-01-02T19:41:00.000-06:00

Happy 2008 from STL Delicious!

My grandmother couldn't cook without Crisco. Paula Deen can't cook without cream cheese. Plenty of people I know can't cook without one or more of the following: American cheese, Mrs. Dash, boullion cubes, canned vegetables, hot wing sauce, pre-packaged chicken tenders, a George Foreman grill. These people cook with an entirely different set of ingredients than I do, and I can't fathom how they manage to create anything edible without basics like olive oil or butter. They don't know that herbs come fresh, too, or that any sauce beyond the nuclear orange sludge from the blue macaroni and cheese box is necessary.

It is, my friends, it really really is.

Well, if I'm so smart and culinarily adept, what do I have in my kitchen? Here's the essential list....

olive oil
butter
kosher salt
black pepper
thyme (nicely aromatic, balances acidity)
garlic
shallots
lemons
canned diced tomatoes
Yukon Gold potatoes
stock (vegetable and beef)
demiglace (frozen in ice cube trays)
basmati rice (better aroma and texture than ordinary rice)
bacon
crumbly, tangy cheese like chevre or Bulgarian feta
balsamic vinegar
Italian dressing (yeah, sounds like a cop out, but still the best marinade I've found for double-cut pork chops later sauteed in olive oil and finished with a splash of the above-named balsamic)
roasted vegetables (every vegetable I've eaten lately has been roasted)
my chef's knife
stockpot
heavy-bottomed, heavy-handled, steep-sided, I'm-gonna-git-you-sucka skillet

Although the below items aren't on my Always Must Have List, I've been using them more often lately....

capers
lamb
parsnips (smash them with potatoes, garlic, butter, olive oil, and whole milk and you've got a tasty mashed mess)
tahini (mix with garlic, lemon juice, and olive oil for a poultry marinade)
sriracha chili sauce
fig preserves (mix with chevre for the most awesome bagel spread)
savory (great, versatile herb)
smoked paprika (I use this on oven fries and baked chicken legs for complex flavor and warm color)

Aaaaaand here's what I'd like to start using more....

nam pla -- Southeast Asian fish sauce. Supposed to be funky and an acquired taste, but I'm already a coffee addict and beer drinker. Fermented fish can't be far behind.

Pinotage -- A South African red wine. Food & Wine Magazine recently named the Argentinian white Torrontes as the Next Big Wine, but I drink like a man and therefore prefer reds. My money's on the Pinotage.

WTF?

2007-12-23T00:04:00.000-06:00

I haven't reviewed anything since November. I'd like to, but with holiday shopping and all the money and time constraints it can cause, I've either been eating at home, at places that don't really need to be reviewed (seriously, what can you say about White Castle that people don't already know?), or places that intimidate me out of taking photos.

With this in mind, I thought I'd write a short update on what I've been eating but haven't been able to review.

WHERE I'VE BEEN....

Balaban's
405 N Euclid
St. Louis, MO 63108
(314) 361-8085

Starter: foie gras with brioche, maple blueberry sauce, walnut and brown sugar oatmeal, microgreens
Entree: rainbow trout with herbed spaetzle, sauteed arugula, fried capers, brown butter sauce
Dessert: espresso creme brulee
Wine: 2005 Malbec

One of the places that freaks me out of taking pictures. I hadn't been since the remodel of the place and the menu, but I was so pleased to have gone. The hostess seemed to have better things to do (even though we had a reservation), the server was helpful and unobtrusive, and the entire meal was perfect. Everything was perfect. Go there, but don't take pictures. It would be rude.

McGurk's
1200 Russell
St. Louis, MO 63104
(314) 776-8309

Salad: mixed baby greens with shallot vinaigrette
Lunch: bangers and mash
Beer: Bare Knuckle Stout

One of the places that didn't need a review. For starters, who really cares about how the food tastes? It's not spectacular, but it's not terrible. To tell the truth, I only went there because I forgot where Tip Top was and didn't feel like calling 411. But their shallot vinaigrette is pretty great, and the house-made sausage has a nicely fine-ground texture with a smoky-sweet taste.

Banh Mi So
4071 S Grand Blvd.
St. Louis, MO 63108
(314) 353-0545

I only have the pho.

It may be remembered from my Pho Grand review that Banh Mi So is actually my pho-making local. It's right down the street from my place, the owners are a kind and friendly husband-and-wife team, and while the fluorescent lighting may not be as pleasantly ambient as Pho Grand's, I very much prefer the down-home feel and single-page menu of Banh Mi So.

WHAT I'VE MADE....

Lamb stew with lamb (no, really?), carrots, potatoes, parsnips, yellow onion, garlic, rosemary, honey, vegetable stock, and porter

Mole verde stew with shredded chicken, carrots, potatoes, tomatoes, jalapeno peppers, bell peppers, red onion, garlic, chicken stock, and spice mix (chili powder, cumin, few other things added)

Bruschetta with artichoke hearts, pimento, roasted garlic, olive oil, salt, black pepper, thyme, and feta cheese

WHAT I'VE REHEATED....

Kashi frozen pizzas. The Mediterranean is the best, but the Roasted Garlic & Chicken is very tasty with some (okay, a bottle) of Valpolicella.

WHERE I'D LIKE TO GO....

* Franco
* Stellina Pasta
* Sage
* Newstead Tower Public House

QUESTION - Where Does Sauce Magazine Get Their Ideas?

2007-12-10T16:09:00.001-06:00

I like Sauce. Don't get me wrong. When it comes to reviews, I can always count on Sauce when the Post-Dispatch (often, so grievously often) and when the RFT (only every now and then) fail. Their recipes feature a minimum of cream cheese and Velveeta dishes, and they cover a lot of ground (food, wine, places to be, etc.) So I like Sauce.

Then why the hell does it seem like they're stealing my ideas?

In November, I posted reviews of the Courtesy Slinger and the Rotten Apple Ciderhouse. In the December 2007 edition of Sauce, both Slingers and Rotten Apple are featured. Coincidence? Maybe. But it does seem a mite odd.

Hey, editors/writers at Sauce who might have stumbled upon (and I love StumbleUpon) STL Delicious....how about writing me a note, huh? Intellectual property doesn't require permission, but perhaps you could let me know that I'm about to see my ideas in real print.

Or maybe just save some effort and give me a job.

RANT - "Do You Want Me To Bring You Your Change?"

2007-11-29T21:10:00.000-06:00

Please, servers of St. Louis, stop asking me if I want my change. Asking if I want my change implies that you're getting a tip, and while you're basically correct -- I always tip -- you know what happens when you ass-u-me, don't you? Right.

I've worked in the service industry for more years than I haven't, so I know what it's like to have a tip-based income. Because I've served my time (and occasionally still do), I never plan on tipping less than 20%. Ever. That's the jumping-off point. If you suck a little or I didn't like the food, you're still getting that amount. If you're freaking awesome, I'll go to 25 or 30% (let's be reasonable, I'm not made of money).

Look, we both know that tipping is a part of going out, and we know how we treat people who tip like assholes. (Note to anyone who read the above paragraph and has realized that they are crap tippers -- if you can't afford to tip decently, you can't afford to go out.) But the amount I give you is dependent on everything you do up to and including the check. An otherwise great server taking the bill and asking if I want my change makes me feel like I've been tricked. And being tricked makes me feel stingy.

I understand that sometimes, the amount of change given is about the same as you'd expect for a tip. I don't care how much I deserve that tip, I don't care what's considered correct in the customer-server relationship, I never ask if someone wants change. It's rude and presumptuous and I can't believe people still do it.

Want the polite solution?

"I'll be right back with your change."

That's it.

REVIEW - Rotten Apple Ciderhouse

2007-11-24T23:15:00.000-06:00

Rotten Apple Ciderhouse
220 Main Street
Grafton, IL 62037
(618) 786-2798

If you're reading my blog, you're probably one of those people who knows what it's like to experience a moment of magic, of serendipity, of honest-to-god PERFECT while sitting on a barstool. One of those "kill me now" moments that doesn't necessarily require ecstasy, but that most certainly involves a sense of knowing that, in at least one place, this one, at this exact moment, right now, things are right with the world. Maybe there's a smooth pint of nut brown ale before you, a bartender generous with the samples and the flattery at the helm, and a purely unobtrusive (seriously) guitarist playing "Mr. Tambourine Man" (again, seriously) in the background.

My moment of goodness came earlier this evening when I decided to take a short trip along the Great River Road to the Rotten Apple Ciderhouse in Grafton, IL. Now, I'm not into antiquing, watching bald eagles, riding ferries, or the other sundry exploits common in historic Illinois river towns. But luckily for me, the enterprising people of ye olde days who decided to eke out an existence on the Mississippi also liked to drink. This is how Main Street establishments like Rotten Apple got their start. Luckily for me, I've got friends who discovered Rotten Apple about a year ago and have been bugging me to visit ever since.

Almost immediately after taking a seat at the bar, I felt comfortable. The bar itself is pretty small, and you feel as though you're in a cabin. I was told that there was a larger restaurant (non-smoking) upstairs, but I don't see the point in drinking if people around you don't get to kill themselves with cigarettes. I immediately noticed that the beer selection at Rotten Apple wasn't typical of the Midwest. Sure, they had Stag on tap, but the bar draught lines also housed Hobgoblin, Founders Centennial IPA, and Avery White Rascal Wit. True to the place's name, there was a cider available, but I'm not in it for the fruit, my friend.

Another thing Rotten Apple has to its credit is Steve, a truly amazing barkeep (bartender is simply not a suitably-fitting term for him). Steve had been described to me as a man who knew almost everything about beer. Normally, people who know almost everything about beer also know everything about being snotty, combative bastards. Have you ever encountered a beer snob? If you think wine snobs are bad, you've no clue. Wine snobs can at least agree with one another every now and then. Beer snobs hate themselves. Anyway, although Steve is very knowledgeable about beer, he's no snob. He's helpful, he's encouraging, and he gets what nearly all other beer snobs don't -- it's beer. It's fun. It's tasty. It's the perfect beverage to enjoy when you're sitting at the bar with your friends.

I remarked to Steve that I saw a Hobgoblin tap. He replied that they also had a beer called Big Bad Dog, a nut brown ale brewed by Blue Cat Brewing in Rock Island, IL. The photos here are kind of wonky, but you can see Big Bad Dog in the background of the very first pic up top....it's a warm, mahogany-colored beer that doesn't hit the caramel malt note too heavily, and doesn't kick your tastebuds with hops that don't really belong. And points to Steve for serving it perfectly -- the glass wasn't super-cold, and the head was a glorious 1.5 inches thick.

One of the reasons Steve's an excellent barkeep is because he's generous with the samples. My first sample (provided without asking, prompting, anything besides a hint from one beer lover to another) was Blushing Monk raspberry ale, a Belgian-style beer made by Founders Brewing Company in Grand Rapids, Michigan.

Blushing Monk runs about $15 a bottle, and contains nearly 12.3% alcohol by volume. Unlike many lambics, Blushing Monk doesn't have the puckery wallop of Sweet Tarts, nor does it have a cloying sweetness that makes a person like they're drinking candy. Instead, Blushing Monk is very much a beer, and it's tartness is well-balanced with a sherbet-like nose and a mellow carbonation. The bottle says it's fermented with "pure raspberries," so I can't say if it's brewed with whole fruit or extract. (Which, let's be honest, most beers contain....it's cheaper, it's easily available, and it really doesn't diminish the taste. Another example to try is New Belgium's Frambozen.)

After trying Blushing Monk, I mentioned how I was a huge fan of Young's Double Chocolate Stout. Steve smiled and disappeared into a small back room. He re-emerged with a glass filled with a very dark beer topped with a ruby-and-coffee-colored head. "Is this....." I asked.

"Chocolate stout and Blushing Monk," Steve answered.

Oh god. Ohhhh god. No disrespect to Graham -- my boyfriend whom I love -- but if I were single, a continuous supply of Young's Double Chocolate and Blushing Monk would be enough to make me decide that not having someone to sleep with regularly might not be a terrible thing. It's the alcoholic equivalent to one of my favorite breakfasts of all time (Eggo waffle sandwich made with raspberry jam and Nutella). It is heaven in a glass.

While enjoying a few more Big Bad Dogs, I was encouraged to take a look around. Apparently, in addition to having what I'm convinced (without really investigating, but whatever) is one of the best beer selections in Grafton, Rotten Apple is also the only Grafton bar with a nearly full set of human remains on display. Everyone, meet "Peg, formerly known as Elaine." I have no idea what that means, but she's a great broad:

Grafton's a bit of a hike for me, and I was there early enough to desire a bit of sustenance. The menu relies heavily on Cajun-influenced foods, but I wasn't in the mood for anything as heavy as dirty rice, grillades and grits, or etoufee. Brad ordered the jalapeno poppers and was gracious enough to let me try a few. Instead of being the chile relleno-style popper you'd assume they would be, Rotten Apple slices jalapeno peppers thinly, coats them in batter, and fries the quarter-sized disks. The pieces are served with a house-made ranch dressing that reminded me of onion and dill dip whisked with buttermilk.

But I had fried catfish and hush puppies for breakfast (I was hungover and Graham loves the Shrimp Shack), and I didn't want something like jalapeno poppers. On a hint from another barkeep, Claire, I ordered the blackened chicken salad.

Meh. I wish I could say that Rotten Apple has great food, because that's what I've been told. I'm sure I just ordered the wrong thing. The salad wasn't terrible, but it was pretty heavy on the iceberg (I think I counted three pieces of the advertised romaine) and pretty light on the roasted red peppers (also advertised). I will say that the smoky, peppery chicken was nicely countered by the sweet corn, though I don't know if that was actually roasted, either (um, again, as advertised).

You know -- I'm not too upset. I was at Rotten Apple to drink, not to eat, and the drinking was good. It's an ideal place for beer enthusiasts and Stag fans (or maybe Miller Lite, if you're into that sort of thing), and it's got just enough kitsch to feel welcoming instead of hokey. After you've visited with Peg, formerly known as Elaine, you can check out the velvet Elvis painting and the collection of dollar bills signed by happy patrons.

Sign your own. I decided to grab ahold of my own piece of permanent decor during my second glass of Avery Brewing Company's White Rascal Wit. The kiss marks are Kat's, but The Rocket Queen signature is all me. If you'd like to see my contribution, check out the door to the bathrooms. I figured most people would be waiting there, anyway.

So, beer snobs of the world, relax. Beer is good. So is the Rotten Apple Ciderhouse. Take a hint from Steve and the pleased customer who penned the note below....

REVIEW - Slingers at Courtesy Diner

2007-11-10T15:34:00.000-06:00

Courtesy Diner
3153 S Kingshighway
St. Louis, MO 63139
(314) 776-9059

As you may have gathered by now, I am not a fan of most traditional St. Louis foods. Toasted ravioli is a gummy mess that's not even toasted. Gooey butter cake is a gummy mess that does wonders for the whole "Most Obese Nation" stat. But there's one St. Louis food institution that truly holds a place in my heart. The Slinger.

I had my first Slinger sometime in elementary school. No, I wasn't drinking back then, but Courtesy was a regular destination for my grandfather and I. I wasn't incredibly daring at the time, but after reading the list of ingredients, I figured it was something I could handle. To this day, the mere appearance of the Slinger is a shot of comfort straight to my amygdala (nostalgia part of the brain, I asked a scientist).

Tell a non-native about the Slinger and you'll almost always be met with an expression of revulsion. And really, you can't blame them. Even among lifelong St. Louisans, the Slinger is a sort of litmus test for just how local you're willing to be. I never ask the high school question (seriously, people, did you peak that long ago?), but I'm usually down for a 3am meal.

The origin of the Slinger is disputed, with Courtesy, Tiffany's, Eat Rite, and (for some reason) O.T. Hodges commonly cited as the inventor. I'm not so much concerned with the patent rights, but due to distance, convenience, and greasy spoon-ishness, I choose Courtesy on Kingshighway.

Courtesy's Slinger has the above base ingredients: meat, hash browns, eggs, chili, cheese, and onions. There are variations, but my preference is as follows...

Meat - Hamburger is the standard, though sausage can be substituted. I'm not a fan of on-the-siders, so for me, it's two hamburger patties slapped on the plate.

Hash Browns - One of the reasons I prefer the Kingshighway Courtesy (aside from the fact that Hampton is just too clean) is because their hash browns are usually well-done. This is especially helpful when it comes to Slingers, as there are enough tricky textures to deal with, already.

Eggs - Over-easy is about the only way to go. If you're getting a Slinger, you want a certain level of silken, gooey protein to marry everything together.

Chili - Slopped over the meat and eggs, and enough to cover the entire plate.

Cheese - Regular ol' shredded cheddar is the default at Courtesy. Thrown on top of the chili, it's almost mesmerizing to watch it melt into the plate (give me a break, I don't order Slingers when I'm sober).

Onions - Meh. I'm not a fan of onions in the wee hours of the morning, but I'd never dispute their place on Slinger plates. If you'd rather not have them, speak up. It's a bitch to fish the fine dice out of the mess.

Slingers automatically come with toast. You might think "as if I need more carbs," but depending on your level of inebriation, you're probably going to want something dry alongside your Slinger. I prefer a soft drink or iced tea to coffee, and again, it's to help with digestion.

Getting a Slinger placed in front of you is a lot like getting a Death By Chocolate. You know you want it, but you're a little bit anxious of exactly how it works. My advice is to immediately take your fork and stab everything. Break up the hamburger, puncture those yolks, and mingle everything around into a melty, tasty, artery-clogging adventure.

Now take that first bite.

For all the warnings and legends surrounding the Slinger, you'll be surprised to find that it's actually delicious. The hamburger is nothing to write home about, but we're talking about diner-version patties. If anything, it's the texture that anchors the Slinger's sloppiness. The hash browns are crispy, starchy, and excellent for retaining chili. The eggs are runny and smooth. The chili is not at all spicy, but smoky and tomato-y enough to be something you could totally eat a bowl of under other, less intoxicated circumstances. The mouthfeel starts out weird but winds up being exactly what your drink-addled tongue needs.

It's scary. It's strange. It's so freaking good.

Eating a Slinger isn't especially conducive to polite conversation, so just play like the other Courtesy patrons and tuck into it. Enjoy the Elvis on the jukebox. Pick up a ratty RFT if you'd like. Don't try to finish the whole thing. This is no time for heroic measures.

Once finished with this no-longer-terrifying St. Louis diner staple, pick up the check for your designated driver and stumble back to the car....sated, sleepy, and gosh-darned impressed with yourself.

The Next Iron Chef America (Episode 5)

2007-11-06T20:19:00.000-06:00

Wouldn't it suck to be friends with Andrew Knowlton? How could you ever hang out with this guy? How could you ever just go out and enjoy a meal? I'm not a subscriber to Bon Appetit (I prefer Food & Wine) and I've never read Lingua Franca, but judging from his comments on The Next Iron Chef America, Knowlton seems to be one of the most persnickety, pissy, slightly sadistic little bitches on TV.

I especially like someone who has taken a "culinary class here and there" and "worked in a few restaurants in NYC" asking Donatella Arpaia, a woman with successful restaurants of her own, if she even knows what she's talking about.

Makes me want to tie him down, mess with that frou-frou hair, and shove a Slinger down his throat.

The Next Iron Chef America (Episode 4) and Comment Responses

2007-11-01T18:06:00.001-05:00

Michael Symon has survived -- nay, WON -- Episode 4 of The Next Iron Chef America! I mentioned before that I'd been pulling for him all along, but considering my recent choices in presidential elections, it's good to pick a winner for a change.

For anyone who didn't pay a whole lot of attention, the prospective chefs had to cook airline food (to steal a line from the show, "think of all the airline meals you've ever had"). Lufthansa's corporate chef took a few moments to brief Symon, Cosentino, Besh, and Sanchez on what can make airline food taste so bad. Altitude equals loss of palate, reheating equals loss of desired texture, etc. The chefs were then told to have at prepping, cooking, transporting, and re-heating.

I'd suspected that Aaron Sanchez was going to be leaving, but I was disappointed in the judges' evaluation of his dishes. The judges seemed to think that Sanchez hadn't listened to the airline food briefing, when in fact, I thought he took it completely to heart. Sanchez's skin-on fish may have tasted terrible, but he did leave it on to coax a bit of moisture out of the nuked entree. His execution was flawed, sure, but don't accuse the man of not listening.

Chris Cosentino is a lot like Aaron Sanchez, at least how the latter had been in previous episodes. He wants to cook his way or no way. It's how he likes it or not at all. This is why he wound up serving al dente cauliflower (was it Knowlton or Brown who suggested he had called it crudite? Clever, either way). It's also why, in an effort to combat the altitude-battered palate, he overseasoned the garnish of his asparagus salad, rather than the asparagus itself. I did experience a moment of Cosentino pride, however, when he threatened to burn the camera crew. Personally, I'd have bludgeoned someone with a heavy stockpot.

John Besh would make a terrific Iron Chef. He's technically relevant, he's got a personality, and he knows how to market his food (no matter what Michael Ruhlman had to say about loosely defining "consomme"). Were it not for Michael Symon, Besh would be my pick.

And Michael Symon. God, that guy is cool. His food is good, his laugh is psychotic, and he'd make a great addition to Kitchen Stadium. But what happens to Lola (and the lesser-known but charcuterie-stocked Lolita) if he wins?

And now onto the comments (oh, how I love moderating these)....

This blog has been coming out in fits and spurts, dependent entirely on my disposable income and ability to search out WiFi access. I'm glad I was finally able to knock out another review and check out the comments left by an LtSmooth and (of course!) another Anonymous.

Thanks, LtSmooth.

And to Anonymous, who thought I provided a "very American" view of Vietnamese food and that my "description of pho was quite a bit off": I know I haven't posted any full photos of myself here, but based on the hair/lips/skin combo at the top right, have you noticed that I'm....um....American? Or did you perhaps notice my "I've never been to Vietnam" disclaimer? And as for the description of pho, I call it as I eat it.

REVIEW - Pho Grand

2007-10-31T18:27:00.000-05:00

Pho Grand
3195 South Grand
St. Louis, MO 63118
(314) 664-7435

Right, right. Everyone in St. Louis has already been to Pho Grand. Well, sorry, but I had a mad craving for pho all weekend and my regular pho-making local, Banh Mi So, was closed for vacation. It doesn't hurt that Pho Grand is consistently great and greatly consistent, either. It also didn't hurt that Pho Grand actually got better after it was moved to another location down the street, which is more than I can say for one of my older Vietnamese favorites, LemonGrass.

Speaking of LemonGrass, there are a few choices for Vietnamese if you happen to be on South Grand near Tower Grove. I've been to nearly all of them, and I prefer the cozy, warm, more informal atmosphere of Pho Grand to other places that cover their seats in plastic and space tables to provide elbow room enough for the rudest of Americans.

We walked into Pho Grand at around 6:00pm on a Sunday night, and even though the dining room looked nearly full, we were seated immediately. This was a preview of the service at Pho Grand, which is attentive and efficient. I want to say that it borders on militaristic, but that implies unfriendliness, and that's just not how it is there. For anyone who wants a Chochkie's-type of server who offers to set you up with some chicken fajita poppers while giving you a good look at his dental caps, Pho Grand might not be your type of place. But for someone who wants a swift, competent, and cordial server, please get down to South Grand for some pho.

For an appetizer, Graham and I split an order of Crispy Chicken Wings. They come seven to a plate, covered in a caramelized garlic sauce. The wings were a burnished bronze, coated in a sauce studded with minced garlic and red chili flakes. The sweetness of caramelization was most evident at first, but the heady garlic and the chili provided just enough heat to make these wings not at all like anything you'd get at TGI Friday's. Or Chochkie's.

They weren't soggy, they weren't burnt, and there was enough gristle around the tender globes of meat to make you believe that maybe, just maybe, these wings were different than the ones KFC reportedly has grown mutant Godzilla chickens to achieve. But it was the sauce that made these wings. It may be gauche to run your finger through the sauce when all the wings are gone, but I'm only human.

We'd been encouraged to order our entrees at the same time as we ordered our appetizer, which explains why our server landed my pho and Graham's shaking beef as soon as the last chicken wing left the plate. It didn't seem rushed, though, because the chicken wing plate (still pooled with the glorious garlic sauce) was allowed to stay.

I've never been to Vietnam, but based on what I've read and how it makes me feel, I can only guess that pho is what Vietnamese moms make their kids on sick days. It's the perfect comfort food. You start with a clear broth. From there, cook some rice noodles, protein, scallions, and leafy veggies or herbs in the broth. Aromatics like lemongrass, ginger, and other herbs are used, but what kind and how much depend on the cook. Pho is served basically plain with a plate of vegetables and sauces on the side. Like in most Asian countries, food is garnished by the eater.

Pho Grand has several different versions of pho, including beef, chicken, tofu, seafood, and ones with vermicelli noodles instead of the fatter rice noodles. I chose a version with medium-rare sliced eye of round and beef meatballs. The sliced beef scared me at first. Because it was cooked in the broth, the pink color was gone from all but one slice. Also, the slices were so thin that the meat had crenulated, creating something that looked terrifyingly similar to tripe (Pho Grand does serve a tripe pho, if you're into that). However, they had a very tender, beefy texture in the mouth, a full flavor, and there was none of that sweat-like smell that tripe can produce. The so-called meatballs were actually slices of smooth beef sausage. Again, these were pale from cooking in the broth, but the flavor was so good and they were packed with juice.

My pho had the standard aroma and flavor, but there was also something like either star anise (looks like pinwheels of cinnamon and tastes like licorice) or galangal (spicy, astringent, ginger-like herb). Although pepper is usually served on the side in Vietnam, Pho Grand grated theirs directly into the bowl. To garnish my pho, I usually go with some torn basil, cilantro, lime, garlic-chili sauce, and a few squirts of hoisin (think Asian soy-barbecue sauce).

Once your garnishes are mixed, it's time to eat. Chopsticks are used for the solids, and spoons are used for the broth. While it's totally acceptable to slurp your broth, please don't tip your bowl to your mouth like you're drinking cereal milk. (Yes, I understand how that sounds, but I've seen Midwesterners eat, okay?) Another thing to remember is that although pho is soup, it's filling like a stew, and it doesn't re-heat very well. This might be my only complaint about Pho Grand, because the enormous bowls of steaming, tasty goodness are just about impossible to finish.

Graham got the shaking beef (Bo Luc Lac). This is tender, peppered beef chunks sauteed with onions, garlic, chili, and sometimes (though not at Pho Grand) pineapple. The mess is served with rice, cilantro, julienned carrots, and the standard tableside garnishes. Graham raved about it, and I believe he also said "Dude, even the rice is good." Luckily, I have a very generous boyfriend who doesn't mind if I nick a piece (or four) of beef off his plate. Luckily, he's got a girlfriend who's enthusiastic about letting him try some pho.

Dessert isn't a very big deal in Vietnamese cuisine, at least not in the standard American way of doing it. However, I am who I am, and that is a person who loves sweets. To remedy this, we each ordered an iced coffee.

Vietnamese iced coffee is very different from anything you can order at Starbucks (thank god). For starters, the coffee itself is very strong, French-roast coffee. Pho Grand's menu advertises that theirs is French chicory coffee (chicory is a root with a very bold, bitter taste, and using it in coffee is common in French-colonized places like New Orleans and, well, Vietnam). The coffee comes to your table as a glass topped with a metal strainer. You wait for the coffee to strain into the glass, which already contains a few inches of sweetened, condensed milk. Once the coffee has drained, you mix the two together and fill your glass with ice.

It's dense. It's syrupy. It's strong. It's bitter. It's sweet. It's the most awesome coffee drink you've ever had and will (hopefully) break you of that $5.00 a day Frappucino habit. Pho Grand's iced coffee is some of the best in St. Louis. I highly recommend ordering a glass no matter how full your pho left you.

www.phogrand.com

SHOW - The Next Iron Chef America

2007-10-16T21:19:00.000-05:00

I think that modern medicine is all wrong. Fat, salt, dairy, eggs, and all that other goodness isn't what's going to lay me down with a heart attack. It's actually going to be The Next Iron Chef America's fault. Two episodes in and I'm addicted to this show. I bite my nails (what little of them I have left), I pace the room, and I catch myself almost pressing the mute button because I can't stand the suspense anymore. Seriously. It's insane.

My favorite is already Michael Symon, probably because I read Michael Ruhlman's The Soul of a Chef and really liked his style. Based on what I know about the other contenders, I was also pulling for Traci des Jardins, who surprised the hell out of me by getting eliminated at the end of the first episode. I knew about Gavin Kaysen from last month's Food and Wine's Best New Chef's issue (his recipe was Greek salad with feta cheese mousse....mmmm, feta). I vaguely knew of John Besh, but that was mostly because of his previous Iron Chef America appearance.

The other contenders -- Chris Cosentino, Jill Davies, Morou, and Aaron Sanchez, I knew nothing about. Of these, Jill Davies is already gone (last night, weird partially-frozen salad the problem). Chris Cosentino seems like a kickass line chef, but kind of an asshole that I really wouldn't want to go drinking with out of fear that he'd call the bartender names and punch someone in the back of the head for no reason. Morou seems like a freaking assassin, and I mean that in the best possible way. He's fast, he's smart, he's sneaky. I think that he's definitely got a shot. Aaron Sanchez hasn't done much besides piss me off. He's frequently caught touching his food after time has been called, and once whined to Alton Brown about not being able to plate his food after the challenge was done. "Are you kidding me? Seriously?" Um, dude, have you ever seen Iron Chef? Either version? You can never plate after time, that's part of the game!

If anyone wants to know how to reach me next Sunday, it's safe to say that I'll be crouched in the corner of my couch, sweating and swearing and trying to remember what cheap action movies The Chairman has been in.

RANT - How Hard Is It To Cook a Hamburger???

2007-10-12T20:09:00.000-05:00

And I'll get to that, I will, but first I wanted to say how cool it is that people are commenting. Most have been positive, which is super awesome. One has been cryptic ("Give it a rest," from Anonymous) and one has been critical ("nothing new...used an italian name," from another Anonymous).

I'll deal with the good and the bad, at least I'm being read. But I would also like to remind everyone that I never claimed to be doing or making anything new. Remember, I'm just your average citizen who likes to eat. Most of the people I know are the same way, and I'm not about to spend $40 to cook something fancy at home that people might be afraid to eat (though someday I will take a risk and introduce them to oxtails). But you know, if I can make someone feel more proficient about making some relatively simple pasta, I'm going to. But thanks, Anonymous, for saying you might come back. Welcome in the first place.

On with the show....

It's a Rant because I'm fairly poor right now, at least until my paycheck next week. This issue has been on my mind, anyway, and I really want to know WHY so many restaurants in St. Louis find it impossible to cook a hamburger to order.

Maybe my upbringing screwed me. I was raised in a family of enthusiastic cooks, eaters, and carnivores, so cooking something medium rare to medium was never a mystery. When it came to meat, pink tasted better. Blood meant flavor. Bring on the gore. Unfortunately, 8 out of the 10 times (mostly a guess, I'm really bad at math) I just want a hamburger in a St. Louis establishment and order it medium, I get well done. If I'd wanted gray I would have asked for it, wouldn't I?

This happens everywhere, even the restaurants who are supposed to know what they're doing when it comes to burgers. O'Connell's, Blueberry Hill, McGurk's, Affton Cafe, et al. In fact, the only place that hasn't let me down is Fast Eddie's, but I'm a Southsider and those drunk Sundays with cheap eats don't happen often.

I'd understand the "oversight" if I ordered a burger in a finer place and the cooks wanted to punish me, but jeezus peezus, we're talking pub atmospheres here. The Eater cannot live on french fries and beer alone, no matter how much she would like to.

If anyone knows of a place that honors the tradition of simple, slightly bloody ground beef, let me know. I'll even be happy to drive awhile to get there.

And in case anyone's interested, here's a brief shot from the PETA (people eating tasty animals) party I attended this past weekend. The list of food I had consists of deer stew, red beans and rice with turkey neck bones in the mix, meatballs in simple marinara, crawfish etoufee, bison sausage, and elk burger (cooked perfectly!). Like a champ, yo.

NEWS - St. Louis Magazine Restaurant Issue

2007-10-08T17:14:00.000-05:00

Beyond the RFT and Sauce, I'm not normally a fan of local publications. They seem like excuses for rich people in St. Louis to pretend they're just as fancy as rich people in other cities and take pictures of themselves wearing all those sparkly clothes. I'm not a class warrior, but that's my reason and I'm sticking to it.

A recent exception was the latest issue of St. Louis Magazine, named The Restaurant Issue. After I skimmed past the "society pages" (if that's what you can call them in this town), I got to check out the Almost Perfect Best New Restaurants (clever title), osmosize How To Be a Critic (to be helpful, especially for the Anonymous commenter who simply wrote "give it a rest"), and read an article about super-smart restaurateur Larry Levy.

Bonus points for Matthew Halverson, whose article "Hot Plates" admits that while there may be a Latin cuisine boom in St. Louis, it's really nothing new for the rest of the country.

This issue makes me feel all tingly inside.

RECIPE - Gnocchi Pomodoro with Salsicce del Pollo and Roasted Garlic

2007-10-03T20:24:00.000-05:00

Blah blah blah, The Hill. While many St. Louisans enjoy the bland and boring far at Cunetto's seemingly out of habit, I'll reserve The Hill for delis and make my pasta at home. Here's what I used to make some pasta this weekend....

Clockwise from left to right, you're looking at gnocchi, tomato-basil marinara, a merlot-malbec blend, kosher salt, olive oil, Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese, chicken sausage, and garlic.

Instead of something typical like spaghetti bolognese (that's spaghetti with meat sauce, by the way), I felt like making some Gnocchi Pomodoro with Salsicce del Pollo and Roasted Garlic (and that's gnocchi with tomato-basil marinara, chicken sausage, and, well, roasted garlic).

Let's start with the sauce.

I'd like to take this opportunity to defend sauce-in-a-jar. First of all, I hate large pieces of tomato. Second, I'm not spending $10.00 on fresh herbs. Lastly, I'm not an Italian grandmother who has all day to spend on Simmer. Thus, Trader Joe's Tomato Basil sauce is about to get an upgrade.

1. ROASTED GARLIC

Roasted garlic has a great, mellow flavor that works well in the background of an acidic tomato sauce. Personally, I feel that you can never have enough garlic and rarely enough olive oil, so this steps includes plenty of both.

First, preheat your oven to 325.

Take two or three cloves of garlic and peel them. I do this with a blunt object (actually an empty sake bottle). Placing the garlic on the board and thunking it once will break the hard base, which makes the skin crack easily.

Once garlic is peeled, trim the ends and smash the cloves. Smashing is quicker than dicing, plus I get to play with my chef's knife (NEVER a garlic press, which is a tool of the unholy and robs garlic of flavor and aroma). To do this, place cloves on a board and position the flat side of your knife blade over them. Then, press down firmly on the other side of the blade with your hand like you're stamping a paper. See?

Next, make a small foil packet and cover the bottom with a thin layer of olive oil. Place the smashed garlic inside and keep packet in the oven until the garlic is golden brown and mushy. (Do NOT burn garlic - nasty, nasty, nasty!)

2. COOK SAUSAGE

Ina medium saucepan, heat about 1/6 or 1/4 of an inch of olive oil. Keep the burner on Low, because olive oil has a low smoke point. You don't want it to start burning off before you get anything in there.

While the oil heats, prep the sausage. Trader Joe's carries an awesome chicken sausage with spinach and fontina that I could eat hourly if I was allowed. In order to use them in sauce, you first have to remove the casing. With a paring or sharp steak knife, cut a slit lengthwise along the side of the sausage. Pull the casing apart and remove the meat.

Now that it's all loose and crumbly, break up the sausage into pieces. Drop the pieces into your oiled saucepan like in the blurry picture below.

Your heat should be a Medium Low now, and your garlic should be roasted. Add the garlic to the sausage and stir to coat everything in olive oil.

When the sausage is partially browned, add your handy sauce-in-a-jar. Reduce the heat to a simmer. Stir every so often to distribute fat and deliciousness.

3. BOIL WATER

To cook pasta, first you've got to boil some water. Easy, right? You'd think. When you're boiling water for food (as opposed to for sanitation, but I don't live in India...or Festus), there are two things to remember.

Thing 1 - Keep a strong boil. This means that when your food goes in, the water keeps boiling. If it doesn't, this is called "losing the boil." Losing the boil throws off your cooking times and means you're an inattentive bastard.

Thing 2 - Water needs flavor. Unfortunately, most people are guilty of underseasoning their pasta water. Whaaa? Yes, season your water. With salt.

Salt is a big deal. Wars have been fought over it (Solaria, Rosettia, Rome, France, Germany, Spain, even Texas). People don't realize the importance of seasoning in the history of armed conflict. Instead of fighting for the right to drive big-ass SUVs all over the planet, people used to fight for flavor. Saffron (Saffron War, 1374), nutmeg and cloves (Indonesia, 1600's), cinnamon (Java, 1825), and chocolate (Cortes' invasion of Mexico, 1518) sure beat the hell out of gasoline.

Now, Thomas Keller says that boiling water should taste like the Atlantic Ocean. Well, I've tasted the Atlantic Ocean, and not only is it gross, but my house isn't the French Laundry. (Forgive me, Thomas, for I have sinned.) For me, a small palmful of salt is enough.

When I'm cooking pasta, I also like to add a little olive oil to the water. It prevents the pasta from sticking and imparts a little flavor.

4. PASTA

Gnocchi is a potato-flour dumpling pasta that looks like tiny loaves of bread. It's chewy, doughy, and fantastic about absorbing sauce. Be careful not to overcook (3 to 4 minutes, tops), because gnocchi can get gummy fast.

Add gnocchi to your boiling, salted, possibly oiled (according to your preference) water. Step back and admire your culinary prowess.

5. PLATE

It's been 3 to 4 minutes tops, and your gnocchi's done. Take the pot off the burner and dump into a strainer. Toss the gnocchi a few times to remove excess water. Plate immediately (cold gnocchi gets gummy, too).

Cover gnocchi with your salsicce del pollo and roasted garlic pomodoro.

Cover THAT with shaved or grated Parmesano-Reggiano. I prefer the pre-deconstructed kind, but that's because I'm a klutz who doesn't trust her fingers near a grater. If you're less of a spaz, feel free to get a wedge and grate it yourself. (But for the love of god, do not ruin everything with Parmesan-in-a-can.)

Look at what you've done. Thank you, thank you.

THE END.

NEWS - Golden Clog Awards

2007-09-27T18:22:00.000-05:00

Oh God. Oh dear. Oh dear God yes. Michael Ruhlman and Tony Bourdain will be presenting the 1st Annual Golden Clog Awards, celebrating the best and worst in food, at the South Beach Wine and Food Festival in February.

The following photo and award categories have been taken from Michael Ruhlman's blog, which is eons more awesome than mine will ever be....

Awards to be given include the Alton Award (food personality who can actually cook), the Fergus Award (best performance in offal), the Rocco Award (worst career move by talented chef), the Chef's Chef Award (least heralded yet most deserving working chef), and the Mario Award (chef'restaurateur who best multi-tasked, merchandised, multi-performed, and generally whored him or herself yet still continued to make significant and valuable contributions to the restaurant landscape).

If anyone could possibly hook me up with an afterparty invite, I'd love to buy Ruhlman and Bourdain a drink (or a dozen, in Bourdain's probable case).

REVIEW - Taste of St. Louis

2007-09-24T21:12:00.000-05:00

The above image was taken from the Taste of St. Louis Web site because I was too hungover to remember to take more than one picture of the event. So it goes.

Last year at Taste of St. Louis, some of the booths left me wondering why some crews had chosen to feature a food that was better prepared from an in-house kitchen, rather than the weak burners and steam baths of an outdoor festival. Well, Self, thanks for opening your big fat mouth. Gone were the spring rolls and rock shrimp beignets of 2006. This year, nearly every booth on Macy's Restaurant Row seemed to say "To hell with it, let's just grill some meat."

We started out with the steak empanadas with red pepper coulis from Minions. It was probably not such a bad thing that the advertised basil aioli accompaniment was MIA, as I have issues with mayonnaise-based sauces kept in 90 degree weather. The fried, greasy meat-filled empanadas would be a spectacular drunk food, far better than the oil envelopes (sorry, I meant Jack N' The Box tacos) my friends seem to prefer, especially with sweet, red pepper puree substituting for buttermilk ranch dressing. But that's the problem -- as alcohol sponges, the empanadas are great. As hangover recovery food, they're just a step above pizza rolls.

Thankfully, Mirasol's booth wasn't far away from Minions', and they were offering savory duck and pork meatballs called albondigas . The dour little goth girl at the register called them ale-bone-DAY-goes, but I'm not one to quibble over semantics when I'm hungry. For $6.00, we were handed a small bowl filled with four 2-bite meatballs drowning in an ocher-red sauce. Drunk, hungover, or sober, this is what I like. Meatballs made with rich duck, chewy pork, and visible chunks of garlic, spurting clear juice with each bite and dripping with sauce. (Sounds sexy, maybe I should author me some erotica.) Eating them was tricky, but I long ago mastered the art of leaning face forward, clothing back, fork in mouth with elbow bent perpendicular from body. This is a valuable skill to have when single and eating over the kitchen sink.

The sauce for the meatballs wasn't like marinara, and it didn't carry the chili wallop I was counting on from a "Nuevo Latino" restaurant. Instead, it was more like tikka masala, a type of Indian gravy flavored with almond paste, cinnamon, cardamom, clove, tomatoes, and onion. I checked Mirasol's menu this morning, and saw that their sauce is made with cashews and ponca chili. If I were to make it myself, I might try poblanos for a smoky, subtle heat.

Lest you foolishly assume from the first paragraph that I've got something against grilled meat, our next stop was Roxane's booth for smoked pulled chicken. The people staffing this booth were some of the friendliest at Taste of St. Louis (unless you count L'Ecole Culinaire students, but they simply haven't worked the line for long enough yet). A perky woman informed us that they had just run out of the pulled chicken, but we could have pulled pork if we wanted it. We did, in addition to some jerk chicken wings.

The chicken wings were excellent; giant specimens with the perfect ratio of char to fatty skin to moist meat. The scotch bonnet jerk seasoning was a gradual, sneaky sort of spice that kept my lips warm but didn't sear my tongue off. There could have been more jerk on the wings, but they'd just come off the grill ands hadn't had the opportunity to rustle around with the excess spice that had fallen to the bottom of the buffet pan.

The pulled pork was another story. The meat was so wet that it was practically whipped, the supermarket bun soggy and cold. The sauce wasn't the Carolina-style mustard sauce you'd expect from pulled meat (like I said, erotica, here I come!). Instead, it had an intense, puckery tang from Roxane's own sauce. An employee explained that it was ketchup mixed with tomato jam.

Taste of St. Louis isn't just about food, though, it's about emerging music (yay for my friends in Ashborne, who opened for Bad Company on Friday night!) and local art. All well and good, but this is a food blog, and kids, no matter what the burnouts who hang out in the alley behind 7-11 say, you really shouldn't eat what comes out of a spray can.

CORRECTION - Macklind Avenue Deli

2007-09-18T19:34:00.000-05:00

Whoops. Just found out tonight that the patio is actually open until 9:15pm instead of 10:00pm. No matter. Still good. In fact, I'm sitting on said patio with a Fat Tire Abbey Ale as I type this.

PLUS! I talked to one of the employees (might be an owner, I'm not enough of a jackass to play investigative reporter) and mentioned that I'd reviewed the place last weekend. He thanked me. Maybe because I said that I hearted the sandwich.

And later, Graham's making steak fajitas. Mmmmmm......

REVIEW - Macklind Avenue Deli

2007-09-17T11:49:00.000-05:00

Macklind Avenue Deli

4721 Macklind Ave.

St. Louis, MO 63109

(314) 481-2435

Right now, St. Louis is in the middle of that maybe-a-month-long-but-certainly-nothing-more-than-that time of perfect weather. The humidity that makes our lungs feel like soaked sponges is gone, the damp chill of October hasn't set in just yet, and even in the middle of the day, conditions are just right for eating outside.

This past Friday, Graham and I went to the Macklind Avenue Deli at Macklind and Murdoch in South City (get used to this area, as I dislike driving long distances when I'm already hungry). I remember the place as being called Krekeler's, a kind of corner store across the street from a portrait studio my mom took us to. Within the past year, it has been transformed from a corner store to a full-fledged deli with a bitchin' beer (domestics, imports, micros and plenty of Bud products if you care) and wine selection. While Krekeler's had not much besides a bike rack in the past, Macklind Avenue Deli has a cute outdoor seating area with umbrellas and wireless.

Macklind Avenue Deli has chips, snacks, ice cream, desserts, and sides like slaw and potato salad, but we stuck with the sandwiches and beer. I only mildly regret this; although I was full from one half of the sandwich, I really wanted to try the mustard seed-studded potato salad that looked nothing like the demon-yellow mayo (alleged mustard, LIES!) sludge you're used to buying at Schnuck's. Another thing I mildly regret is only getting one beer apiece. Yes, we had to work later, but Macklind Avenue Deli has three kinds of beer on the shelves -- room temperature, refrigerated 6-packs, and refrigerated single bottles.

The staff looks like former cafeteria ladies who could smack the crap out of you, but instead choose to smile and get the massive sandwiches ready within a few minutes. I ordered the Southwest Turkey sandwich, with pepper jack cheese, Boar's Head Sausalito turkey breast, lettuce, red onion, tomato, and chipotle sauce on floured ciabatta bread (no tomato for me, though). Graham got the Carl's Poor Boy (not a Po' Boy, though, more like a King of the Hill). Two sandwiches, a St. Peter's IPA and a Blue Paddle totaled about $19.00, which is no more than what you'd pay at Bread Co.

My sandwich ROCKED BALLZ.

I'm so glad I got over that not liking spicy foods thing, because Macklind Avenue Deli's creamy chipotle sauce was hot enough to make my lips tingle a bit, but not so hot that it overpowered the seasoned turkey breast and standard shredded lettuce. I'm also glad I got over the whole hating onions thing, because the ones on my sandwich were crisp and piquant (haha, yeah, it's a food blog now). This sounds like I'm reaching, but I'm the daughter of a produce man and I hate -- I HATE -- when simple things like sandwich veggies get overlooked. The chewy ciabatta bread provided a very decent counterpoint for the hotter bites and held up well to the thick layer of pepper jack.

Graham's sandwich was all right, but the bland dressing could have been made with a little more vinegar. A touch of acidity works wonders on a heavy on the meat/heavy on the cheese sandwich, and I don't think the tomato he left out would have stood up very well.

There's a dessert counter, too, and unfortunately, I was too full to partake (though I was interested in the chocolate zucchini cake, an example of one of the only times vegetables and chocolate are permitted to be together ever). Graham got a lemon "tart" before we left, and I place that in quotations because it wasn't very tart at all. Cloyingly sweet with a crumble crust and confectioner's sugar on top, if I'm going to eat something that sweet, I prefer that it contain chocolate and cleverly-disguised illegal substances. I kid, I kid.

As you can see from the photo at the top, Macklind Avenue Deli is open until 8pm on weeknights, but not shown is that the patio doesn't close until ten. The whole place closes up at 4pm on Sundays. Remember, you're still on the South Side, and most of these people still make dinner by 5pm.

Yay For Me and STL Delicious!

2007-09-15T17:05:00.000-05:00

Welcome to the inaugural season of STL Delicious!!!!

This blog was born from the frustration I've experienced with the St. Louis food "scene." (Quotations are because I have no other way to describe it; I'm not the type of person to use the word normally.) As you may have noticed in my sidebar up there, I hate toasted ravioli. I've had ice cream far better than that of Ted Drewes', and I think that gooey butter cake is gooey, and that's just about it. I can't stand that the RFT Reader's Choice (or whatever) poll has named TGI Friday's as the best appetizer selection several years running. It bothers me that people in this town seem to like things because they're supposed to, and they don't seem to know how to want any better.

Probably, this blog is partly due to my spiteful nature. I want to give a big Finger to everyone out there who's never wanted more than bourbon-glazed boneless chicken wings (wings aren't fucking "boneless," just be honest and call them chicken PARTS) on red-checked tablecloths while some suburban brat wails in the background.

But I also think that St. Louis has so much potential, and part of the reason we still have so many independent and family-run places is because some people, in some places, continue to patronize them for a simple reason - they're good. I want to show my friends and anyone else who cares where these places are. I also want to make people less afraid to try new things or spend a little bit more on the good stuff.

I'm really excited about this blog, and I hope that if you're here, you'll visit again. Feel free to post a comment or write stldelicious@hotmail.com if you have something to say, recommend, or ask.

STL Delicious

To Stiff or Not To Stiff

RECIPE - Baked Mostaccioli with Pork Sugo

Hiatused

Surely You Jest

Don't You Recognize Me?

Real Good

DOUBLE POST! The Trade *and* The Fashionability of Bacon

A Pre-Grand Opening Look at The Stable!

Drink It, Black

RECIPE - Chili Garlic Oil

RECIPE - Chicken Tortilla Stew

How To Sound A Gulp...Barbarically

The Best Sandwiches in St. Louis

Where I've Been -- Excuses, Other Stories, and a Double Review!

RECIPE - Basic Flavor Rub

Guess I'm a Meanivore

REVIEW - Murdoch Perk

STL Delicious is on MySpace!

RECIPE - Pancetta-Wrapped Pork Tenderloin with Sauteed Swiss Chard and Cannellini Beans

Chain Restaurants Attack the Suburbs!

No Reservations Is Porn

REVIEW - Iron Barley

Balaban's Has CLOSED

RECIPE - Roasted Broccoli with Garlic and Parmesan

An Open Letter to the Vegans of the World

REVIEW - Three Monkeys

What I Need

WTF?

QUESTION - Where Does Sauce Magazine Get Their Ideas?

RANT - "Do You Want Me To Bring You Your Change?"

REVIEW - Rotten Apple Ciderhouse

REVIEW - Slingers at Courtesy Diner

The Next Iron Chef America (Episode 5)

The Next Iron Chef America (Episode 4) and Comment Responses

REVIEW - Pho Grand

SHOW - The Next Iron Chef America

RANT - How Hard Is It To Cook a Hamburger???

NEWS - St. Louis Magazine Restaurant Issue

RECIPE - Gnocchi Pomodoro with Salsicce del Pollo and Roasted Garlic

NEWS - Golden Clog Awards

REVIEW - Taste of St. Louis

CORRECTION - Macklind Avenue Deli

REVIEW - Macklind Avenue Deli

Yay For Me and STL Delicious!

DOUBLE POST! The Trade and The Fashionability of Bacon