tag:www.friedbrainsandwich.com,2008://1 2008-05-15T17:55:58Z Movable Type 3.35 tag:www.friedbrainsandwich.com,2008://1.26 2008-05-09T23:17:30Z 2008-05-15T17:55:58Z

I've been eating a lot of salads lately. One problem remains portability--how do you eat a salad on the run? A simple solution is to make a wrap out of it; but focus on the greens. In particular, use sharper...

Jason Clevenger Chef Salad Wrap Ingredients: 1 large flour tortilla 1 tablespoon Italian dressing 2 slices of ham 1 slices of Provolone cheese 2 slices of salami 3 or 4 cherry tomatoes, halved a large handful of mixed salad greens, preferable including bitter sharper greens such as arugula or friesse Technique: * Warm the tortilla for about 15 seconds a side in a hot skillet, then remove. * Spread the dressing over the center of the tortilla. * Arrange the meats in overlapping slices in the center of the tortilla * Pile the salad greens on to the tortilla. Use more than you might think can fit. But leave some room at the edge nearest you. * Fold the left side in just a bit. Then fold the bottom edge up. Finally keep rolling from the left. Squeeze down to compress the leaves. The goal is a lot of greens relative to the amount of protein, fat, and carbs in the rest of the ingredients. Ceasar Salad Wrap Romain is high on texture but weak on taste. It tends to disappear a bit within the confines of the wrap. The trick here is to alter the traditional balance of the salad to give it some punch. But I stuck to the traditional ingredient list, using the the "form" of the salad as a guide. This lets me throw in a few croutons, which is pretty silly on the face of it. Still they added another textual element. Ingredients: 1 large flour tortilla 1 tablespoon Ceasar salad dressing 3 Romain lettuce leaves, torn into large pieces 5 or 6 large seasoned croutons 3 anchovy fillets Freshly grated Parmigiano-reggiano Technique: Same as above for the Chef Salad. The romaine leaves are bulkier than spring salad mix, so it may be more difficult to keep everything together. I use more cheese than I would for a plated salad. Still, do not overdo it. Salads, about all else, are about balance.]]> tag:www.friedbrainsandwich.com,2007://1.25 2007-07-27T20:38:09Z 2007-07-27T23:19:49Z

It's been about two months since I started this blog and I thought I should take a moment to see what I've done and to perhaps say something about what I'm trying to do. According to my blogging software I've...

Jason Clevenger Gut Check at the Riverfront Times is doing a good job of that (along with many other things). I am surprised that I have only done three recipes so far. I started off thinking that it would be the main focus. The twin punches of summer heat and vacation have kept me out of the kitchen, so I think the balance will shift. The flip side is that I have done more review articles. St. Louis already has a number of review alternatives. Ian puts out one a week at the RFT as does Joe Bonwich in the Post Dispatch. Joe and Ann Pollack do a sort of dinning journal on their blog. And Sauce Magazine has any number of features promoting restaurants. I don't feel compelled to offer a regular review. But when I get excited about places I visit (new or old) I will share it. A couple of friends have asked why I have written so much about Hispanic food in the first two months. That's easy. I got excited. I found El Scorcho, for example, to be innovative, imaginative, and fun. The place has a clear conception of what it wants to be and executes that conception well. The fact that it also happens to be a hole-in-the-wall taqueria shouldn't get in the way of it being a really good restaurant. The vision thing (as Bush the Elder use to say) in particular is something that I think is under-represented in restaurant evaluation. The best restaurants without exception embody a clear and compelling vision that can be seen in details at every level. And of course the very best restaurants execute those details to perfection. On the other hand, I have the most disconcerting experiences were the vision is confused, faded, farmed out, or simply missing. I have eaten in more places that I care to think about where the simple act of pairing an appetizer with an entree is best done by throwing two darts at the menu. So a clear vision of what you are combined with good execution gets me excited about a restaurant. A great example is my piece on Archibald's Bar B. Q. in Tuscaloosa. But of course not all visions are the same, so there are bonus points to be awarded for the quality of the vision -- the equivalent in diving to the degree-of-difficulty multiplier. Going forward, I have a number of pieces in different stages of completeness -- an article on why you think more broadly about food brands, some thoughts about the movie Ratatouille, and some troubling news about food in New Orleans. I have a recipe I'm working on for an Oyster and Jerusalem Artichoke Bisque. There are plenty of notes on the "fancy" places we ate at in Columbia and Birmingham. And I also want to write about the Australian Wine meal I had at the Ritz. Finally, some background about me. When I wrote to Alanna Kellogg asking her to include me on her blog A Veggie Venture, she wrote back a sweet note asking, "Um, who are you?" I am from New Orleans. I came to St. Louis in 1992 to attend graduate school at Washington University and have lived here since. I started in the restaurant business out of high school at the elegant Pontchartrain Hotel. I moved on to a restaurant in the French Quarter called Cafe Sbisa and became the head chef there when I was 21. My mother and I opened a restaurant together in uptown New Orleans called The Upperline. It will celebrate its 25th anniversary in January 2008. I left the restaurant business to return to school and because I think it is for the young of knee and back.]]> tag:www.friedbrainsandwich.com,2007://1.24 2007-07-27T02:45:36Z 2007-07-27T04:28:40Z

A couple of weeks ago I wrote about an emergency run I made to La Vallesana on Cherokee Street. I was in such a hurry to score some Tacos al Pastor that I didn't bring my camera. Shooting some good...

Jason Clevenger emergency run I made to La Vallesana on Cherokee Street. I was in such a hurry to score some Tacos al Pastor that I didn't bring my camera. Shooting some good food porn is surely enough of a reason to go back. Tacos at Pastor I went inside to place my order and noticed some shrimp on the grilled. They had been marinated in oil and chili paste and had some onion tossed in. It reminded me of a dish I created many years ago at The Upperline -- Grilled Shrimp on Cornbread with Garlic Mayo. I asked for an order whatever it was they were making and they brought out a Quesadilla Camarones. The flour tortilla was grilled crispy on one side and had some melted cheese, the shrimp, lettuce, and a dab of sour cream on the other. The textual contrast between the crispiness of the shell and the softness of the shrimp was good. But the creaminess of the cheese and sour cream tended to over-envelope the flavor the shrimp. Quesadilla Camarones ]]> tag:www.friedbrainsandwich.com,2007://1.22 2007-07-24T18:30:32Z 2007-07-29T17:33:09Z

August is tough on restaurants. The heat, the vacations, and the looming start of school conspire to make August the worst month for most restaurants. One solution is to close up and go on vacation yourself (the French proprietaires do...

Jason Clevenger Downtown Restaurant Week. Running from August 13 through August 18 2007, 25 downtown restaurants are doing 3 course meals (tax and tip not included) for $25. There are no tickets to buy, no coupons to clip. Just show up at your favorite restaurant. Better yet, call and make a reservation. (Let's see, 12,500 people showed up last year at 25 different restaurants over 6 nights and left Cahokia at 1:15 traveling west at 53 miles per hour. Yeah, according to my math, reservations are a really good idea). Even better yet, make reservations at 6 of your favorite restaurants on 6 different nights. Or 5 on 5 nights. Or even 4 on 4 nights. The list of 25 is solid from top to bottom and it includes some of the stellar spots in the city -- An American Place, Lucas Park Grille, Mosaic, Red Moon, and Wasabi. A $25 three course dinner is a very good deal these days and this is your chance to get downtown and see what all the buzz is about. Below is the complete list of restaurants. Click here to check out the menu that each is offering. Rosemount wines is helping to sponsor Downtown Restaurant Week, and most of the participating restaurants are offering pours at $5 a glass. You can also make a donation to Operation Food Search, by including a $5 Extra Helping on your final bill.

An American Place	Anthony's	Carmine's Steakhouse
Charlie Gitto’s Downtown	Clark Street Grill	Copia Urban Winery
Dierdorf and Hart’s	The Dubliner	Harry's
J. Buck’s	Joseph’s Italian Café	Kitchen K
Lombardo’s Trattoria	Lucas Park Grille	Mike Shannon's
Mosaic	400 Olive	The Pepper Lounge
Red	Red Moon	Simply Fondue
St. Louis Fish Market	Station Grille	Wasabi
Washington Ave. Bistro

]]> tag:www.friedbrainsandwich.com,2007://1.21 2007-07-23T21:48:45Z 2007-07-25T23:22:01Z

All this week (July 23 through 27, 2007) the New York Times is inviting questions from readers to Pete Wells, the Dinning Editor. Click here to go to the NYT website and ask your question. Below is mine: My basic...

Jason Clevenger here to go to the NYT website and ask your question. Below is mine: My basic question is who will replace R.W. "Johnny" Apple. The easy answer, of course, is that no one can. Mr. Apple ranged from Sydney to Oxford (MS and Eng.) to Walla Walla, going where the food was. His death last fall has left something of a gap in national (and international) food coverage. Perhaps not coincidentally, there appears to be a new voice on the food page. Joe Drape wrote about horse racing on the sports page up until June 15. After a month "off" his byline has now appeared twice in the food pages, both on articles about food (or least restaurants) in other parts of the country. What exactly is Mr. Drape's beat, and does it focus more on food (which Mr. Apple tended to do) or more on the business of food. Follow Up: Here is the answer to my question from Mr. Wells. You're right, I'm sorry to say. R.W. Apple Jr. truly was irreplaceable. He died the week before I started here, and I'll always regret missing my chance to work with him. Joe Drape isn't trying to fill those big shoes but I'm happy he's here. He is pinch-hitting for Dining while Julia Moskin is on maternity leave. The summer is a quiet period on the horse beat, apart from the races in Saratoga, so Joe is working some new muscles as a food reporter. (And now I will stop using inappropriate sports metaphors.) He and I are looking together for stories about the culture of food and dining; the piece he wrote about Tao Las Vegas was, it's true, a bit of a business story, but I think he'll get a chance to explore some other ways into the subject we cover. I've never thought that one needed to be a "food writer" to write about food.]]> tag:www.friedbrainsandwich.com,2007://1.20 2007-07-20T14:53:40Z 2007-07-27T19:47:28Z

It's hard to do barbecue on the road. You start with the advance intel reports on the region identifying likely targets of opportunity. Then there are the dossiers of the pit-masters that need to be collected and reviewed. You make...

Jason Clevenger Archibald's vs. Dreamland. The edge seemed to be towards Archibald's, so we checked out an interview Amy Evans did with George Archibald Jr. as part of the Southern Foodways Alliance series The Southern BBQ Trail. Finally, we asked around while we were in Birmingham. Carol Griffin of Chez LuLu was a bit taken aback, "Y'all have heard of Archibald's?" but said that was the place to go. The second great contribution of the modern era to the barbecue search is the GPS navigator. No more of those instructions that start out, "You go down the road a piece, till you see some cows on the left, then you ..." We punched in the address and were quickly led the back edge of little bedroom community in Northport, across the Black Warrior river from Tuscaloosa. You pull up into a driveway on an embankment and you know you're in the right spot because there's a large pile of split hickory logs standing next to a tall gray chimney. On the other side of the chimney is a little shack. Inside the screen door is a counter with three or four stools, two refrigerators and a sink. If ten people came in at the same time the fire marshal might have to close the joint down. On the far wall ("far" being about 6 feet) is a large metal door built into the side of the chimney that slides open to reveal a grate sitting about waist high over the pit. Slabs of ribs and mounds of pork shoulder stretch back into the darkness. There's a garden hose with a spray nozzle hanging from the pit door handle. A counterman is taking orders and there's a woman tending the pit. I'm guessing she's Mrs. Paulette Washington, George Jr.'s sister. According to the dossier she takes over in the late morning and works till George comes back at three. Every five minutes or so, she takes that hose and sprays it into the pit, kicking up a cloud of smoke. That's when you realize that the pit / restaurant distinction is a false dichotomy. There is just the single edifice -- the smokehouse -- part of which is more accommodating to people wanting some 'cue and the other part more accommodating to pork in the process of becoming 'cue, Archibald's Rib Platter We ordered two large rib platters and a sliced pork platter. The counterman sets out three paper plates on a little table next to the pit door and covers each with a couple of slices of Sunbeam bread. Miss. Paulette grabs a wicked looking polearm, (actually a kitchen fork clamped onto the end of broom handle) and begins wrangling in the pork. She does all of her work right there at the edge of pit. She chops up the ribs on a block of wood set into the brick lip and piles them on to the plates. From a piece of shoulder she slices off meat and weighs it out on a little kitchen scale. She takes each plate and ladles on the sauce from a pot sitting on the grate. The counterman piles on two or three more pieces of bread, covers each plate with a sheet of butcher paper and sticks in a couple of toothpicks to keep it all together. We sit at the counter and eat our pork. The ribs are large and meaty, crisper at the thin end and still a little fatty at the thick end. The flesh comes off easily enough, but I wouldn't say that it just falls apart. Sitting there that afternoon, I couldn't really taste any smoke, which I thought was kind of odd. It was clear that they cook over a hotter fire for a shorter period of time than some folks do. We got a couple of orders to take back to Columbia and I tried some later that night. Nice smoky flavor, not dominating; but a clear compliment to the pork flavor. Very nice balance with the nod being given more to the pig than to the wood. What had changed? Then I realized the futility of trying to taste a subtle hickory smoke flavor while sitting in a smokehouse. When everything tastes of smoke, nothing tastes of smoke. The sauce is a thin vinegar base, with some ketchup, mustard, and a fiery pepper kick. More like a North Carolina sauce, which narrows it down to about 3,000 possibilities. I believe I read somewhere that North Carolina has more barbecue styles per capita than anywhere else on earth. If I could get hold of Hoppin' John Taylor, expert on all things in the Carolinas, he might be able point me to someone who could determine that Archibald's sauce was closest in style to those restaurants on the right hand side of Highway One (going south) between mile markers 43 and 57. Which of course is all the difference in the world from those restaurants on the left hand side. Lacking those resources and left to my own devices, I can only add some general observations about the sauce. The fieryness suggested to me a pepper vinegar, either store bought or made themselves. I suspect they are adding their own peppers and letting them steep, in part because the heat is fairly intense, while the acidity is fairly low. There's just a bit of body to the sauce, suggesting perhaps some kind of culinary gum. This might come from ketchup or from certain kinds of hot sauce. When we got our order to go, they gave us two large (16 oz) Styrofoam cups of sauce. Looking into the cup, I was reminded of art class and the cup of water I used to clean my brushes after painting a sunset. Its a ruddy orangey, red, with flecks of yellow. However it is made, it is to my mind just what you want in a sauce. Thicker sauces take over, obscuring the meat. The pure vinegar sauces lack enough body to really add anything. Since we didn't get to Dreamland, I can't chime in on which is better. I can say that this the way I think barbecue should be. The pig is primary. The smoke and the sauce is secondary. When you start selling the smoke or hyping the sauce, you have lost the main focus. As for technology, I suspect that it is still possible to find great 'cue without the internet and GPS, but one day we will look back and wonder how we ever did it.]]> tag:www.friedbrainsandwich.com,2007://1.18 2007-07-19T16:28:15Z 2007-07-27T04:38:12Z

There is an old truism in business: you can make if fast, you can make it cheap, you can make it good -- pick two. Overwhelmingly in the restaurant lunch trade the choices are fast and cheap. Outside of a...

Jason Clevenger hour) and a heightened sensitivity to price. To succeed, you have to get 'em in and get 'em out in about an hour, for less than $10 (or a nearby price point). And if you do it well, you risk being a victim of success as more and more people come pouring in at noon. Niki's West in Birmingham, Alabama comes about as close as I have ever seen to scoring a truism trifecta. Their basic Meat and Three is $8.50, they are more efficient than a New York deli at moving people through, and the food is pretty damn good. When we got there just around noon, a dozen cars were prowling around the block looking for a open spot like it was some kind of hot nightclub. We jumped out to get in line while Alan drove off to park. A security guy at the door is letting in a few people at a time, furthering the image that this was IT (although a sign as you go in keeps you grounded, "No Tank Tops, No Bare Feet, No Hair Rollers"). Once through the door your enter the chutes -- the wrap around lines channeling you towards the servers. The 100 people or so standing in line represented a pretty good cross section of the populace -- black / white, professional / working, men / women, young / and old. Except they weren't really standing. The line kept shuffling along and it only took us about 10 minutes to get to the front. As you get close, you see why things are moving so quickly. In an article on Chipolte, I commented on the cheerful strategies they employed for minimizing the dawdle factor of people making choices. Niki's West makes Chipotle look like a snooze fest. A dozen big guys are standing shoulder to shoulder serving up food in a blur of ladles, spoons, and plates. A sign next to the menu on the wall sets the tone, "NO Cellphone While in Line." "Whatllyahave?" I hadn't quite put my tray on the rails and the first counterman was already staring right through me. A gap had opened between me and the guy in front and it had to be closed up. "What will you have?" he repeated fractionally slower. I had studied the list of the dozen or so meats on the menu board, so I had an answer, "Chicken Fried Steak". Several nano-seconds later a plate appeared on the pickup shelf about a foot past my reach. I had to move down to get it and so the gap in the line began to heal. "Comeondown, Comondown" This was not the enthusiastic call from a Johnny Olsen or a Rod Roddy, but rather the urgings from the next block of servers. The vegetable offerings are not listed, so they understand that you need several whole seconds to look across the expansive array of choices. You want beans? There's lima beans, white beans, black eyed peas. You want greens? There's collards, and turnip greens, and cabbage. There's fried okra and stewed okra with tomatoes, and fried green tomatoes. There's at least 6 different kinds of potatoes, plus sweet potatoes, and three kinds of baked dressings, and don't forget the rutabagas. Can't forget the rutabagas. And there had to be another 20 things that didn't even register in my visual field -- rice? corn? squash? -- I'm sure they were all there with at least two or three choices each "Anything else? Anything else?" they call back as they scoop each selection into a monkey dish and set it again about a foot down the line so that you have to keep moving. I end up with the fried green tomatoes, fried okra, black eyed peas, and sweet potatoes -- a Meat and Three plus one. I move into the cold area -- a dozen salads, and then the pies, and cakes, and cobblers. I grab some corn bread muffins and ask for a slice of blueberry pie. "How many in your party?" the lone checker asks. Her face is a study in intensity, as though she could break rocks with a single glance. She is punching away on her register as she repeats and extends the questioning, "How many in your party? Drinks? Water?" "Three", I say and "uh, yes, a diet coke and water." I'm looking around for the sodas, but there are none. That gets taken care of later. She glances down the line to take in my group, and then I'm invisible to her; she has set her sights on the next group. "Come on, come on. They'll catch up." It took about thirty seconds from tray down to tray up and I was now moving into traffic control. A tall man is motioning me to the right. I follow for a couple of steps until he catches the attention of his counterpart in the next dinning room. The tall guy throws up three fingers, the counterpart comes forward and acknowledges with his own 3 fingered signal. The relay completed, I follow the second guy into a large dinning room that is about half full. A moment or two later Alan and JoAnn show up at the same table. This is all the more amazing since JoAnn had stopped to ask a question, prompting the servers to urge the people behind her to "Come on around, come on around." Like data packets on the internet, we were broken apart and reassembled at the correct destination. The dinning room wasn't much to look at, sort of a fern bar warmed over, with faux stained glass, paneled walls, and Formica tables. But it was calm and and relatively quiet. A waitress came over to take care of drinks. She had a ready smile, and cheerfully answered our questions. Yes, lunchtime was pretty intense, and they feed about, oh, maybe 1500 people a day. The food was all solidly good. Nothing exceptional, but above average versions of just about everything. The twin evils of cafeteria food is that it all tends towards the same taste and the textures suffer from being on the line too long. Niki's avoided both problems. The lima beans were distinct from the white beans and both were yummy. Each of the greens tasted as they should and were different from the rest. My sweet potatoes were wonderful, pretty much cooked on their own with no extra sugar. I realized later that instead of the large full and half sized serving pans on the line, Niki's used quarter and eighth sized pans. Nothing sat for very long. The fried okra was crisp and hot. The stewed okra and tomatoes was one of the best versions I have had, with a bit of onion and garlic, and perhaps oregano. I likened the experience to shooting the rapids at a water theme park and I kind of wanted to go again. But by the time we had finished, the lunch rush was over. The line of a hundred had been replaced by a line of six. The white water rapids had been replaced by a slow moving bayou. To Alan it was about as close to being in a commodities pit or on the floor of a stock exchange as you might ever get. There was a flood of choices to make, and a shouted urgency to make those choices quickly. In Bombay, the dabbawallahs deliver hot home cooked lunches to tens of thousands of office workers every day. The dabbas (lunch pails) are collected, sorted, distributed, and returned though an efficient network of relay couriers. In Birmingham, on a slightly smaller scale, Niki's West delivers hundreds of people to hot home-styled lunches through a efficient network of servers, checkers, and routers. Both systems have solved, in very different ways, the fundamental problem of lunch -- fast, good, and affordable. ]]> tag:www.friedbrainsandwich.com,2007://1.19 2007-07-19T00:15:07Z 2007-07-20T02:30:45Z

STOP THE PRESSES! Food Fit For Feasting Found in Flyover The New York Times in an article by Joe Drape on Wednesday was Shocked! Shocked! to discover that "...smaller cities such as Kansas City, Mo., and St. Louis have sustained...

Jason Clevenger Food Fit For Feasting Found in Flyover The New York Times in an article by Joe Drape on Wednesday was Shocked! Shocked! to discover that "...smaller cities such as Kansas City, Mo., and St. Louis have sustained not just good individual restaurants but packs of them." The article focused mainly on KC, but extrapolated its findings to other Midwest cities -- St. Louis, Milwaukee, Indianapolis, and Minneapolis. Two major themes emerged. Top quality local restaurants are springing up or are being reinvigorated -- 40 Sardines, Bluestem, and American Restaurant. And serious food outlets from the coasts are expanding into the heartland -- Dean & DeLucca and Lidia Bastianich (Lidia’s) in Kansas City, and Wolfgang Puck and Jean-Georges Vongerichten with restaurants in Minneapolis. I had the chance to eat at Debbie Gold's 40 Sardines last summer and it was one of my top five meals of the year.]]> tag:www.friedbrainsandwich.com,2007://1.17 2007-07-14T16:20:12Z 2007-07-24T18:29:33Z

I am vacation this week. I'll be at my parent's hurricane escape home in Columbia, Mississippi for a couple of days. Then we are driving over to Birmingham, Alabama to check out the food scene and perhaps hit some Bar-B-Que...

Jason Clevenger hurricane escape home in Columbia, Mississippi for a couple of days. Then we are driving over to Birmingham, Alabama to check out the food scene and perhaps hit some Bar-B-Que in Tuscaloosa. Check back for reports on what we find. Update: Our restaurant schedule so far: Saturday 7/14: - Lunch: Frankie & Johnnies, New Orleans - Dinner: The Backdoor Cafe, Columbia Sunday 7/15: - Lunch: The Round Table, Columbia - Dinner: Chez LuLu, Birmingham Monday 7/16: - Lunch: Niki's West, Birmingham - Dinner: Bottega, Birmingham Tuesday 7/17: - Lunch: Bettola, Birmingham - Dinner: Highlands Bar and Grill Wednesday 7/18 - Lunch: The Bottle Tree Cafe, Birmingham - Dinner: The Hot and Hot Fish Club, Birmingham Thursday 7/19 - Lunch: Archibald's Bar B. Q. Tuscaloosa ]]> tag:www.friedbrainsandwich.com,2007://1.16 2007-07-14T00:31:36Z 2007-07-27T03:11:19Z

Ian Froeb got back to Cherokee Street in his RFT review on Thursday. The four or five blocks of Cherokee west of Jefferson are the nexus of Hispanic culture in St. Louis and the the kick-off point for any serious...

Jason Clevenger RFT review on Thursday. The four or five blocks of Cherokee west of Jefferson are the nexus of Hispanic culture in St. Louis and the the kick-off point for any serious taco crawl in the region. Ian checked out two places across the street from each other in the 2800 block of Cherokee -- La Vallesana and Taqueria el Bronco. At both he sang the praises of Tacos al Pastor--spicy roast pork, grilled with onions and pineapple and served on a double corn tortilla with a bit cilantro and lime. When I read the review on Friday, I pretty much dropped what I was doing and headed over to La Vallesana. I needed a fix and I needed it bad. I had had a funky-unky pineapple taste lingering in my mouth since Monday. Really. And the restorative power of pineapple done right -- Tacos al Pastor -- was what I needed to drive it away. Here's how it had happened. We had ended up at 1111 Mississippi last Monday. A lot of people in St. Louis are fond of this place, but I'm always a bit underwhelmed. It wasn't my first choice, but they're in the neighborhood and they were open. One reason that restaurants close on Mondays is that it is hard to get fresh fish. Sure, you can order from the fish monger on Monday morning. But what is he sending you? Has he gotten a fresh order in since last Friday? Maybe. Maybe not. So good rules of thumb are to keep it simple on Mondays and don't order the fish. I broke both those rules. Somehow I let my guard down. It's all a little fuzzy now, but I think It was that damned special. The salmon. Grilled salmon with a pineapple and grilled vegetable vinaigrette. On a Monday. Yep, it was the salmon that did it. All that crap about good cholesterol and omega-something-or-others. I started thinking, "I need to eat a piece of salmon." It was like my salmon reserves were a quart low. I eyed the plate suspiciously when it arrived. Something deep in my culinary subconsciousness was trying to warn me. The salmon was pale pink, with light brown grill marks. It was propped up on a asparagus risotto chaise. Bright red peppers, onions, and thick slices of pineapple were strewn about in glazy looking sauce. I broke through the fish with my fork and a smell scampered out. There is a gap between being spoiled and being fresh and this piece of fish was sitting in that gap. It didn't exactly smell rotten. But there was a whiff of something. First rule of fish is that there shouldn't be any smell. Still, I took a couple of bites. I knew the taste right off the bat -- that fifties Polynesian theme dinner where pineapple is "exotic". All it needed was a jello chiffon salad. And then I took a couple of more bites. No. The salmon did not undergo a magical transformation into a subliminal creation on second tasting. It remained insipid -- a dish poorly conceived and indifferently prepared. But I wanted to try and understand how a restaurant of high repute could put out such a thing. One of the most important things I try to teach in cooking (and by far the hardest) is the concept of balance. You can talk about balance in gross ways -- sweet versus sour versus hot versus salt. But the only way to really understand balance is by ostention -- a kind of culinary learning by demonstration. And while I'm always on the lookout for good examplars of balance, every once in a while I want to really get at what it is to be so woefully out of whack. My guess is that they counted too much on the acidity of the vinaigrette as a counter-balance. But the sweetness of the pineapple and of the roasted peppers overwhelmed everything else. Anyway, I should have stopped after the first bite or two, explained that it wasn't quite what I was expecting, and gotten something else. There are some places where I will try and offer a more honest opinion, but the conceptual gulf here was too wide. The result was a pineapple aftertaste that lasted the rest of the week. Lasted until the Tacos al Pastor came to the rescue. Tacos al Pastor Again, it is hard to state exactly what is so very right about the balance of those three tacos I had at La Vallesana. Part of it is just portion control. Each taco was small, maybe three or four bites. And each one had just two or three thin slices of pineapple. Part of it of course is the spiciness of the chili powder that coated the pork and had been roasted. A bit of the chili powder was transferred to the fruit and provided a complex counterpoint to the simple sweetness. Part of it I think is that the pineapple was briefly caramelized when it was thrown on the grill with the pork and onions. Sugar loses sweetness as it caramelized. There was also the lime, the cilantro, the singed onions, the chewy tortillas. A simple symphony of perfection for less than five bucks. Next time I need a place to go on a Monday night, I'm heading over to Cherokee. ]]> tag:www.friedbrainsandwich.com,2007://1.12 2007-06-28T21:53:13Z 2007-07-04T21:42:21Z

I decided to check out EL Scorcho the other night after seeing a mention on Ian Froeb's RFT blog. It's on the western edge of Maplewood's restaurant row (7356 Manchester Road) next to the Tienda Centrol Americana convenience store. Knowing...

Jason Clevenger EL Scorcho the other night after seeing a mention on Ian Froeb's RFT blog. It's on the western edge of Maplewood's restaurant row (7356 Manchester Road) next to the Tienda Centrol Americana convenience store. Knowing Ian's fondness for the Cherokee Street taqueria scene I thought it might be a mama y papa hole in the wall kind of place. Yeah, if Divine and John Waters had opened a Tex-Mex joint, this would be it. From a small vestibule you enter a splinter of a restaurant. Cowboy hats and other western tschotskes (pinatas, armadillos, and whips, oh my) are hanging from the ceiling. 5 or 6 saddles-cum-barstools give way to regular stools in front of a bar sweeping out in front of you. The walls are a dappled rosy-orange suggesting that they had been painted with exploding habaneros. The bartender gives you a wave and a welcome and invites you to find a spot. All of the seating (except for the saddles) is on barstools -- about a dozen at the bar and another 30 or so at 8 or 9 tables along the wall. At the back is the "jail" -- think of it as a party room for 7 or 8 really close friends who don't mind some bumpin' and rubbin' (if you have one of those groups where everyone insists on having their own chair, then you may be able to squeeze in five folks). The menu is printed on a thin piece of warped wood. There's plenty of smarmy marginalia ("Served w/I believe way too many tortilla chips", "Beans, Beans, good for the heart..") and cheesy names ("O' fashioned like Larry's wardrobe green beans"). It features lots of small plate opportunities that might remind you of Barcelona or Boogaloo (not surprising given that El Scorcho is another notch in the belt for the duo of Mike Johnson and Mark Lucas). For all the kitsch (sign over kitchen door: "I didn't ask you to dance. I said your ass looks fat in those pants.") the food is first rate -- imaginative, fresh, and well executed. And for all the capsicum iconography splashed about, the food is surprisingly piquant-free -- a lesson in creating Tex-Mex flavors without covering everything in chilies. The hottest of the four salsas -- El Scorchoed -- is a creamy mustard colored concoction that has a nice kick but no real lasting burn. The BBQ (brisket, turkey, chicken, and pork) is available as a platter, or as filling for the Tex-Mex staples (Freakin' Fajitas, Taco, Tostadas, etc), or for 2 bucks as an add-on "to any salad or anything". Steak, chicken, fish, and veggies are also options for the Tex-Mex offerings and as add-ons. The brisket and pork were both great, though it is not clear if there is any real smoking going on. The pork had burnt edges while the brisket starts chewy and then quickly melts in your mouth. The turkey was less interesting, coated in a too sweet sauce. A steak tostada was amazing, with a generous helping of firm black beans covered with slices of crispy edged steak, a bit of cheese and some cabbage (a great deal for $2.25). By default the tacos are in crispy shells, but you can ask for soft. The fish taco was a bit of disappointment -- the subtly of the grilled fish was lost amid the chewy tortilla, cabbage, and cheese (oh Flacos Tacos, where art thou?). El Scorcho Tostada The main items, as good as they are, really are just an excuse to order the sides. Glorious sides. Maco & Cheeso (creamy with Pepper Jack cheese) may be the best mac & cheese you will ever eat. Viva La Frickles are dill pickle slices fried in corn meal, the acid of the pickle cutting through the crisp fried shell. The O Rings are thick sliced onions coated in Lone Star Beer batter and fried. The cornbread is a massive block of moist cakey goodness. Those are the 4 sides that I tried. There are another 12 to go. There are also starters (the Tortilla Soup was a thick puree tasting of lime, chicken, and corn studded with pozole and flecks of carrot and cilantro), 4 styles of chicken wings, burgers, sandwiches and one dog, plus assorted dips for the nachos. Whew. Chicken Wings with El Scorcho's juicy sweet honey blend w/ garlic and chilies The servers tend towards the dressed-in-black-faux-hawk set. They seem to be having far more fun then anyone should at work, while doing a kickass job. The music streams from an iPod and ranged from Johnny Cash, to the Stones, to 80's ballads while I was there (oddly no Weezers). In slow periods they do customer requests. El Scorcho opens its doors at 11:00 am 7 days a week. The kitchen stays open till 1:00 am and the bar till last call, Monday through Saturday. On Sundays they close up at midnight. The portions are generous, the prices reasonable, and the food is seriously good. Make no mistake, it is not Haute Cuisine (more like Haute Camp). But Johnson and Lucas have demonstrated time again they know how to grab a culinary vernacular (Tapas, Creole, Caribbean, Tex-Mex) and give it a couple of imaginative twists that can engage the locals without scaring anybody. At heart, this is a kickback neighborhood joint where you can stop in and have a beer and a tostada at the bar. We should all be so lucky to have an El Scorcho in our neighborhood. (NB: This is not a review. This is only a test (well not really). If this had been an actual review I would have waited longer (they have only been open a couple of weeks) and I would have checked back a couple of more times. Also, I would probably have included their phone number (314.644.5566) and the fact that they do takeout and DELIVERY!!).]]> tag:www.friedbrainsandwich.com,2007://1.10 2007-06-15T20:31:41Z 2007-06-26T18:02:36Z

If you've dropped by The Wine and Cheese Place on Forsyth in Clayton lately you may have noticed it. No, not the checkout counter that has moved from the left side to the right. Not the "gourmet" goods that have...

Jason Clevenger The Wine and Cheese Place on Forsyth in Clayton lately you may have noticed it. No, not the checkout counter that has moved from the left side to the right. Not the "gourmet" goods that have moved from the back of the store to the front. Something much more important. Take a sniff. It's still subtle but grows a little everyday. If they have recently roasted the nuts, you may need to walk over to the deli counter. It's the smell of cold pig and that's a very good thing. We know (and love) the smell of hot pig in the morning, noon, or night -- bacon, spare ribs, pork chops, roast. But cold pig? Chalk it up to the FDA. Or to customers squeamish about meat that is not refrigerated. The smell of cured pig products -- salumi in Italian--is hard to find these days. It's the core constitute of the "old-world" aromas in places like Viviano & Sons or Volpi on the Hill in St. Louis or the Central Grocery in New Orleans. But since May you have been able to smell, sample, and buy some of the best cold pig being produced in this country -- Salumi Artisan Cured Meats of Seattle. Salumi was co-founded by Armandino Batali, father of celebrity extreme-chef Mario Batali. The term salumi covers a range of cured meats (usually pork) that can be broadly categorized in two ways -- those made from single cut of meat such as shoulder or thigh (Coppa, Culatello, Proscuitto) and those made from minced, chopped, or ground meat stuffed into casings (Soppressata, Finccchiona, Cotto, etc). For the last few years foodies have been making the pilgrimage to the small storefront on Third Avenue South to sing the praises of Armandino's pig. If a round-trip ticket to Seattle seems too much effort to put out a plate of antipasti, you can order most items from their web site. But not everything. Not the Lardo. Lardo. Cured pork fat studded with rosemary. John T. Edge suggests that the little extra 'o' is transformative -- "lard's leap towards transcendence." Bill Buford describes a dinner party / cult scene / communion with Mario Batali, in which the master placed a thin slice of Lardo on the tongue of each acolyte and proclaimed "Its the best song sung in the key of pig." An off-hand remark by Ian Froeb in his blog brought all of this back to me. Yes, Lardo is now available in St. Louis. What to do? There's Lardo as communion wafer, a thin slice on the tongue. Take it like you do good chocolate. Don't chew. Let it sit there and melt away in the heat of your mouth. The first note is salt. But just as you think "salty", the idea is washed away by the riverlets of fat falling onto your tongue. If you are not ready for pure communion with a pig, John T. extols the simplicity of his favorite item at Salumi -- a slice of Lardo wrapped around a bread stick and briefly broiled. A pork pixie stick. You can spread it Nutella style on focaccia instead of butter. Or wrap grilled shrimp with a slice and then broil. All sound great, but there is a dish I have been dying to try -- Lardo pizza. It was all the rage a few years ago in New York when it appeared on the menu at OTTO, Mario Batali's mid-level concept pizzeria/enoteca. No cheese. No sauce. It is simplicity itself, a pie draped in thin slices of Lardo, sprinkled with fresh rosemary and baked. The fat melts and infuses into the rising crust leaving behind ethereal slivers and tasting of pure pig. Because of the rarity of its one and only topping, the Lardo pizza has been slow to travel. I don't see the 30-minutes-or-it's-free guys rolling this out anytime soon. Kicking back on the sofa with a Lardo pie, a beer, and the remote is probably not a once a week thing. Make one for some friends. Serve it as a starter. Do thin wedges with cocktails. Make room for the transformative power of Lardo. Preparation (terse): - Make a pizza dough. - Shape into a pie. - Arrange thin slices of Lardo over the top. - Sprinkle with fresh rosemary. - Bake in a hot oven until done. Preparation (verbose): In a medium bowl combine the warm water and sugar and then stir in the yeast. Let it sit for about 5 minutes. The yeast will activate and begin to bloom and bubble. Add the olive oil, then the flour and salt. Work the contents with your fingers. The dough will be sticky at first but will soon clump onto itself rather than your hands. Once all of the dough has aggregated into a single mass, dump it onto a work surface and knead it vigorously for about 5 minutes, occasionally running it around the inside of your work bowl to blot up any flour that was left. Form the dough into a ball, Wipe out your bowl and then add a teaspoon more of olive oil to it, coating the lower half. Take the ball of dough and run it around the inside of the bowl so that it picks up a light coat of the oil. Cover the dough in the bowl with a towel. Set aside in a warm place with no drafts and allow to rise for an hour. After rising, the dough should be spongy. Turn it out onto a floured surface and flatten into a disk, pushing out from the center. The melting Lardo will produce pools of oil that are gradually absorbed by the dough. You should form a slight lip around the edge of the dough to prevent the liquid from running off. Arrange the sheets of Lardo over the top of the dough and sprinkle with fresh rosemary (don't bother with the dried stuff). Pop the pizza into your hottest oven. Ideally it should be placed on a hot surface, a pizza stone for example. You can buy one or make your own by placing unglazed tiles on a sheet pan. The pizza should be done in about 8 minutes. 3/4 cup very warm water 1 teaspoon sugar 1 envelope dry active yeast 3 tablespoons olive oil 2 cups all purpose flour 3/4 teaspoons sea salt 1/6 pound thinly sliced Lardo Fresh rosemary]]> tag:www.friedbrainsandwich.com,2007://1.9 2007-06-09T21:59:49Z 2007-06-22T16:31:19Z

India's Rasoi is planning to relocate their Central West End location. They will move from the smallish space on 4569 Laclede around the corner into half of the ground floor in the Forest Park Hotel Apparments that once housed Harold's...

Jason Clevenger India's Rasoi is planning to relocate their Central West End location. They will move from the smallish space on 4569 Laclede around the corner into half of the ground floor in the Forest Park Hotel Apparments that once housed Harold's Deli. Annother change on Euclid is the opening later this month of Pickles Deli in the site that was formerally the home of Strata.]]> tag:www.friedbrainsandwich.com,2007://1.8 2007-06-07T22:55:12Z 2007-06-14T15:47:26Z

Mimi Reed has an article in today's NYT on people buying second homes as part of their evacuation planning -- Loving New Orleans, With a Ready Escape. Featured in it are two of my favorite people, JoAnn Clevenger (my mom)...

Jason Clevenger Loving New Orleans, With a Ready Escape. Featured in it are two of my favorite people, JoAnn Clevenger (my mom) and Patrick Dunne (owner of the antique culinary store Lucullus on Chartres Street). JoAnn and Alan (my stepfather) bought their second home last summer. They had spent the spring driving around central Louisiana and southern Mississippi looking for just the right place. They found it in Columbia Mississippi, a small county seat just across the state line north of Bogalusa, about a two hour drive from New Orleans. The house is lovely, the people friendly and interesting (as JoAnn put it, "It's like living in a small town with some of my favorite Welty and Jane Austin characters, all of whom have been very kind to Alan and me."). But what really helped seal the deal was The Back Door Cafe, an upscale restaurant on Main Street owned by Fran and Mike Ginn. It does an eclectic mix of contemporary (medium rare grilled tuna) and southern (Caramel Cake, which JoAnn says tastes like she always wanted layer cakes to taste) cusines. As an extra zinger, Fran prepares "The Road" special -- a three course meal on a single theme -- that runs all week. Last week it was Shanghai, another week it was Morracan, and another it was Julia Child. JoAnn brought the Shanghai noodles with 5-spice ribs back to the Upperline and Chef Ken proclaimed it one best things he had ever eaten. If you find yourself in southern Mississippi, stop by at The Back Door (lunch and dinner) and see whats on "The Road" for yourself. The Back Door Cafe 705 Main Street Columbia Mississippi (30 miles west of Hattiesburg). (601) 736-1490]]> tag:www.friedbrainsandwich.com,2007://1.7 2007-06-07T18:06:02Z 2007-06-08T17:48:31Z

A few years ago my bridge buddy Eryk hosted a party to celebrate the EU expansion (Eryk never needed much of a reason for a party). It was a pot-luck affair with each of us assigned to bring a dish...

Jason Clevenger A Salad of Fiddlehead Ferns, Crawfish, Fennel, and Potatoes Slice the creamer potatoes into 1/3 inch discs with the skin on. Place them into a pot and cover with water. Add a tablespoon of salt and bring to a boil. The potatoes will cook quickly, perhaps in as little as 5 minutes once the water is boiling. Remove and drain once the potatoes are done. Do not overcook. Trim away the stems of the fiddlehead ferns. Bring 4 quarts of water to a boil and add a tablespoon of salt. Place them carefully into the boiling water. My approach is similar to working with asparagus, although fiddleheads are little stringier. Taste one after 3 minutes. They should be firm but without any crunch. Remove when they are done and drain (Fiddleheads have a lot of iron in them and will darken the water -- don't worry). Trim any blemishes from the fennel and then slice into julienne pieces about 2 inches long. Set to the side. To prepare the dressing, peel the shallots and slice them thinly into rings. Place them a mixing bowl and add the 5 ounces of vinegar. Chop the parsley and dill and add the vinegar along with 1/2 teaspoon of salt, an ample amount of freshly ground black pepper, and a pinch of sugar. If possible, let the mixture macerate for 20 minutes. Then whisk in the olive oil. The parsley and dill will create a slurry and help keep the oil and vinegar in suspension. You need to carefully combine all of the ingredients. The ferns and potatoes are particularly vulnerable to breaking up. One approach is to use a half-sized sheet pan with a lip on the edge. Spread out the potatoes and then layer the fennel, crawfish, and fiddleheads over them. Finally pour the dressing over the whole lot. You can then carefully mix everything together. If your are feeling lucky, just gently toss everything in a large mixing bowl. When I made this, the potatoes were still warm. This was quite nice, but would have to be served very soon after the crawfish were added. Alternatively, the ingredients can be chilled before combining everything. The interplay of tastes results in a mellowing of all of the elments. There was also an interplay of "green" tastes from the fiddleheads and the parsley. The overall effect was almost creamy. It needed an accent note, so I served the salad in a mound over arugula leaves which provided the right peppery bite. 8 Creamer Potatoes - medium sized 10 oz of Fiddlehead Ferns 1 bulb of fresh Fennel 1 large or 2 medium sized fresh shallots 5 oz of White Wine Vinegar 18 oz of Extra Virgin Olive Oil - not to "green" 1/2 cup of chopped Italian Parsley 3 tablespoons of diced fresh Dill 1/2 pound of cooked crawfish tail meat Salt, Pepper, and a pinch of sugar. Fresh Arugula]]>