Archive for the ‘in Philadelphia’ Category
Hog Heaven: Cochon’s Pork Belly and GTC’s Bacon Maple Apple Pie
t says: We went to Cochon for dinner this past weekend, and it was great! I’m not in the mood to do a proper full-on post which includes the context of the visit and super-long descriptions, so let’s go straight to the restaurant and get to the good stuff…
December 2010, Fri Dinner, Party of 6. The atmosphere was very nice – dark tables and little candles reminded me a bit of Audrey Claire – but I hoped the food would be better than Audrey Claire. It did get louder as the evening went on, but it wasn’t anything we couldn’t handle.
The food was amazing … I had the pork belly for the first course. It was the best cookery of pork belly I’ve ever experienced. Better than Talula’s. Better than Morimoto. Morimoto might still have an edge for sneaking in those Asian flavors, but damn this was so silky smooth it was unbelievable. And I believe that an appetizer is a great size for pork belly, because I think it would have precipitated a heart attack had I eaten any more (and if I was given more … I would have eaten it without a doubt). I thank them for saving me from myself. There were some Brussels sprouts and bacon underneath the pork belly – they were also quite good. Hell – they could have spun that into a whole ‘other appetizer had they given me more of it. I will say, however, that maybe if they snuck in some sort of something to cut through some of the fat and refresh the palate every now and then (?citrus? veggie? I don’t know) then I’m pretty sure I would have cancelled my second course and ordered another of the pork belly …
For my second course I had the “lamb steak” special. I’m actually blanking on what the cut of lamb was. Maybe I should call them and ask. Nah – what’s the fun in that? In any case, the mystery cut of lamb was surprisingly not “lamby”.
g says: pardon the interruption… it was lamb sirloin. continue!
t says: It really was like eating super tender steak (think of the shape and done-ness of a medium-rare hanger steak with the tenderness of a braised short rib) that had a hint of lamb. It was wonderful. Yes, there was some delicious Israeli couscous underneath it, but who cares? The lamb was the hero.
Everyone else seemed to enjoy their food as well (g and I went with our parents). sr totally cleaned up his bouillabaisse, and ha did the same with her suckling pig dish. g and her mom had no qualms with the pork loin, and g’s dad dispatched with the scallop dish (we spoiled his appetite beforehand with stromboli and meat and cheese from DiBruno Bros. so he was quite content with a single order of scallops).
The desserts were also pretty tasty – I had the “molten” chocolate cake and was satisfied because the chocolate didn’t just ooze onto the plate after you sliced into it. It was a thick molten chocolate cake. Woohoo! I hate stabbing into a molten chocolate cake and having to chase after the precious oozing liquid all over the plate. This dessert needed but a single scoop of bacon-vanilla ice cream and it would have been perfect …
There were two problems with the evening, though: no parking in the area on a Friday night (which is not really their fault), and there was some poor timing with the scallop dish – it came out a good 5 minutes after everyone else’s. g’s dad didn’t mind – he said that they were handicapping him so he wouldn’t finish his scallops faster than everyone else finished their meal …
Overall, I found this to be a fantastic dinner. The price was reasonable, the food was great. It’s up there near Bibou for our favorite BYO dinner. And it was so much fun to see Cochon at night when it has a bit of “swank” in its atmosphere vs. what we normally see for Sunday brunch (which, btw, is still unbelievable).
THE NEXT DAY …
The next day, g and I were throwing a party, so I picked up a bacon maple apple pie. That’s right. Bacon … in your apple pie … Who would do something like this? The same people that brought you bacon maple cinnamon rolls. I now wonder why would anyone NOT put bacon in their apple pie? I dare say that to NOT put bacon into your apple pie would be un-American! You know – I have no pictures even though I wanted so badly to take one. How’d it taste? Well, I felt that it was very well-executed apple pie with a hint of smoky, salty bacon – it was superb. Not the absolute best pie I’ve ever had, but definitely a step up from ordinary apple pies. g felt the bacon was quite pronounced – I’m still not sure if she felt if that was a good thing or not. Our friends … well … they really didn’t say anything about it in particular – but they did go back for multiple pieces and demolished it … sooooo … I think it was good!
Here’s the question though … Penza’s crumb apple pie vs. GTC’s bacon maple apple pie … On one hand, you have my favorite maker of fruit pies ever (go ahead and google Penza’s pies) … but on the other hand, you have bacon … We have GOT to do this showdown …
Koo Zee Doo: How do they do that octopus??
t says: We went to Koo Zee Doo with some friends recently. We did order a lot of the same things that we ordered last time, so there’s no point in re-reviewing those as they were pretty much the same. We did miss out on the cheese (they changed the menus), so that made us a little sad – and the chickpeas in the salad were a bit more al dente than I’d like. However, there was one new thing that we had that made me quite happy: the Friday octopus special. It was poached octopus with a creamy bechamel over mashed potatoes. It was delicious. On one hand, it might have been a tad too rich, as there really weren’t any vegetal or acidic flavors to cut through the almost-cheesy bechamel and potatoes. That said, the octopus was the most unreal texture I’ve ever had – it was so incredibly tender with not the least bit of chewiness – it was kind of like biting into a scallop, but a little heartier. I only wish that the bechamel didn’t mask the flavor of the octopus, because it did kind of get lost in there. It was so rich that we actually had some leftover that I brought home. And get this. The octopus stayed super-tender even after a trip to the microwave! Holy crap! I ate it with some of the leftover duck rice (gave nice salty twang to the rich octopus) and was back in heaven.
So hooray for Koo Zee Doo for cooking octopus so well …
Modo Mio: Veni Vidi Vici
t says: Yes, g and I write about Melograno … a LOT. We just had not experienced Italian fare as delicious as Melograno at a similar price point … Well, let me rephrase … Mercato is equally as delightful, but a bit further away from us, and yes, Amis, Osteria, and Vetri all have wonderful refined-meets-rustic food, however, these have higher prices when you take into account the smaller portions and BYO-lessness. Well, there was one BYO that we had heard of that promised to deliver delicious food at a reasonable price with a classic Philly BYO atmosphere: Modo Mio. a and v had wanted to go for some time as well, so we joined forces and trekked on over to NoLibs (I kind of hate that name the more I say it …).
11/2010, Friday 9pm, Party of 5. We showed up precisely at 9pm – we could not have planned it more perfectly if we tried. I had a bottle of red ready to go, having been decanted for an hour, and our dinnermates brought a few of their own as well. This was going to be fun … eventually. As soon as we got there, we were told that they were running behind and that they were trying to free up our table. I figured, “ok – maybe there’s a party that just hasn’t gotten their check yet”. But then the minutes started flying by … At fifteen minutes, we had watched the hostess seat a few couples/parties that had been waiting before us, but there were still a fare number jammed into the tiny little “holding area” (there was one door leading to the outside and one door leading to the dining room). We were a little irritated. g, on the other hand, had resorted to handing out gum as appetite suppressants – our party was hungry. I coped pretty well, as I had eaten a late lunch, and thankfully I did because no one wants to be around a hungry t. g suggested that I give them my “starving-child-from-a-poor-country-on-tv” look, but no one deserves to see that …
At the half-hour mark, the hostess came out and started handing out wine glasses to members of parties other than ours (she kind of pretended we weren’t there), apologizing for the wait – nevermind that we had waited longer than anyone else. What was funny was that she actually ran out of glasses to hand out, forcing some of those people to share – I guess the kitchen was still trying to clean up some glasses in the back?
At the forty minute mark, v confided in us, “guys – don’t say anything – I’ll handle it – I’m really good with Comcast …” Apparently v has had ample past experience in negotiating with Comcast for free channels and cheaper rates (I think she calls every 6 months or so); she felt that her negotiating skills would be able to get us some free food or cheaper rates, I suppose. Personally, at that point, I was wondering if we were actually going to eat there at all that night!
At 55 minutes, we were promised a table “in three minutes”. And sure enough – we were shown to a table with five seats at 10pm. Yikes – a one-hour wait despite having a reservation? In retrospect, I realize that we were never actually told an estimate of the amount of time it would be until we got a table – it always seemed like “a few more minutes” – even though the hostess never actually said that until the very end. Hmmmm – I wonder what would have happened if they said, “that’ll be an hour wait” up front? I guess we’ll never know, now …
As we sat down, a and v formulated “the plan”. “The plan” was that v was going to have a word with our server about our wait and whether something could be done to compensate. For the life of me, this did not sound like an idea that would produce a positive result – after all – we did wait for them even though we technically had the option of leaving … I felt that they should be giving us free stuff without us even having to ask – but of course, that only happens in fairy tales and at Sampan.
Then, a plate of bruschetta hit the table, compliments of the chef, because of our wait. a looked at v and said, “oh no – this doesn’t make up for anything.” (Actually, a might have not have said “anything”, rather, other choice words … I can’t remember … but we’ll keep it clean.) So, none of us touched the bruschetta until after v had a word with the server. Now, I have no idea what v said. She was very quiet about it, which perhaps the server and restaurant appreciated. And to be honest, it sounded kind of like the server was less-than-willing to give us anything for free – clinging to the usual excuses of “we’re really sorry about that – it’s just really hard when just one table takes too long then it throws everyone off, yada yada yada.” But somehow, v did work some magic! The server came back from the kitchen and said that the chef will send out extra courses with our meal. That sounded pretty good. The kitchen would get to use up ingredients they couldn’t save ’til the next day, and we’d get free food – excellent!
Amidst all of this negotiating, a noted that the place was VERY loud. Actually, it might have been the loudest BYO that I’ve ever been to. a, who’s not a very quiet person by nature, was using his full-on “outside voice”, and v, who normally has to rein him in for being too loud, remarked, “you know – in here, he’s actually not loud at all!”. I guess we found a place for him to really let loose. My favorite a-isms for the night include his version of speaking fluent Italian and shouting at the top of his lungs the first and last names of a politician interspersed with curse words.
How was the food? Well, we sampled a LOT of dishes – the five of us each got the “tour” deal (4 courses for $33). And then add on the “extras”. I’ll list the ones I had/remember and let the others take over at their convenience …
The grilled calf tongue dish I had was quite tasty, however, the tongue, itself, was a bit tough. I guess I imagined it would have had a similar texture to the veal tongue I had at Zahav, but grilling is different than braising, so that’s my fault. If nothing else, it was yet another cut of meat that I can now say I have had!
I had the gnocchi pasta which was very nice. The gnocchi, itself, was a solid performer – softer/more luxurious than at Gnocchi, but not quite the cloud-like consistency of Osteria’s potato gnocchi. The gorgonzola sauce was intensely rich – I couldn’t finish the dish – and this was surprising to me because they don’t give you a huge amount of pasta – but I was definitely crying uncle by the end.
g had the crab-ricotta cake. It was funny because normally people brag about how their crabcakes have “no fillers, all crab”. But not here. It was like “yea, we have crab and ricotta … got a problem with that?” Actually, it was delicious. On one hand, it was very decadently crabby – the ricotta didn’t mask any of the crab. Instead, the ricotta brought a nice flavor and texture of its own – I think this combo needs to be put together more often!
g also had the bucatini amatriciana. I sampled some and was quite impressed with the flavors – they weren’t quite as smokey-salty-prosciutto-y or as spicy as at Melograno, but there was some sort of richness with the tomato that was seductive. The pasta might have been a bit more al dente than I’m used to, but I liked it!
g and I both had the braised lamb cheek as our mains. The sauce was quite good with cherries, some other sweet-n-sour fruit, and a nice savory meaty taste. The lamb cheek itself was very good in taste, although I felt that it wasn’t the most tender piece of braised cheek I have ever had. On one hand, maybe lamb cheek just doesn’t get that tender, but I find that hard to believe. The meat was also streaked with glorious, glorious fat – but even that wasn’t quite as melt-in-your-mouth as I was hoping. Texture aside, the taste of the dish, itself, was quite good. I wish I knew all of the components that went into the braise as it was a combination that I’d like to try at home with some short ribs!
a says: I believe Lolita is the loudest/cramped byo that still produces food worth returning for – modo mio is a close second. a must also admit that v is certainly his better half and handled this situation with aplomb. A restaurant should, without prompting, rectify a mistake this large, but a doubts this would have happened without v’s thoughtful intervention.
Overall, none of the wines a provided blew him away. There was a mediocre pinot grigio (2009) and a decent Monastrell from Bleda (2008).
For starters, the capesante had a scallop cooked to perfection resting on a small salad but the Prosciutto di Parma seemed misplaced. The pasta course, gnocchi, was thick without being heavy, however, paired with a Gorgonzola-cream sauce, seemed too rich. My secondi was duck wrapped in prosciutto which is a dish I doubt could be bad, anywhere. The duck was good, not great, and I believe the proscuitto was used as “bait” – much like bacon or butter, it will be enjoyable on any dish but does it complement the main ingredient, bringing it to a higher plane. Similar to the capesante, I think the overall result was less focused.
The highlight of the evening, oddly enough, was an “extra;” their homemade lasagna topped with a fried egg. The lasagna was complex and delicious, and only made better with the yolk of the egg. Supplying us with the entire dessert menu was appreciated and a nice touch. The tiramisu stood out but after that much food, I can’t say much else.
The menu turista is definitely one of the best deals in the city, if you don’t mind a bottle-of-wine wait for your table (possibly).
t says: In retrospect, I suppose that it’s clear that Modo Mio was not a flawless restaurant. There was “the wait” and also some hiccups in the food … but for some reason, I would definitely want to try it again. Was it the company? Was it the wine? I don’t know – but the food, even with the flaws, still had these decadent strokes of genius throughout (e.g. that egg-on-the-lasagna was my favorite dish, too!). All in all, it was definitely worth the price of admission …
Davio’s: Sad Salad, Poor Pasta
t says: I had the opportunity to go to Davio’s this week … for free! It was a work-related event with a large group of people. In retrospect, I’m thankful that I didn’t have to pay anything for it – but I am sad that someone had to pay for it …
It’s actually not worth a full-on review …
Props: The main dining area looked nice – fairly upscale. We were seated in a separate dining room on the penthouse floor with beautiful views of the city.
Slops: The server made it very apparent that he was not working for a tip (we had a large group, so tip was included) – he was short on words, spared no pleasantries, and sounded as if he had drawn the short straw for the night by having to wait on us. Suck it up, dude. There was a limited menu that featured a salad (which was a sad, plain, boring plate of greens and cucumber), a pasta, and tiramisu. The pasta was supposed to include “braised veal, beef, and ____ bolognese” (I forgot the third meat). Yea – it was totally ground hamburger meat – no taste of veal whatsoever, and not a single shred of actual meat (e.g. had they actually braised a hunk of meat). While I’m sure what they did was technically a braise, I’d say that the use of such a word is misleading when talking about the preparation of ground meat as it is akin to me saying that I poached the Wegmans brand spaghetti that I made for dinner tonight. Fortunately, the tiramisu tasted like tiramisu – woohoo – but it still gets listed under slops because the strawberries they coupled it with were mouth-puckeringly sour (like unripe sour).
While I’m sure that I might get flamed for flaming Davio’s, especially when I didn’t have any of the steak at a “Northern Italian steakhouse”, I stand by my comments and final judgement. I still feel that any Italian restaurant needs to have good pasta – is it not one of the courses that you eat in Italy regardless of whatever else you’re eating that night? I mean – I could be wrong (I’m no Italian), but silly me – I thought pasta might be an Italian staple. And what better way to compare Italian cookery among restaurants than to look at the ever-so-simple pasta bolognese?
Parc: A Splendid Salad
t says: I’m not a huge pro-Parc type of person. I think it has excellent location and a buzz-ful atmosphere, which is fun. The food is … ok – but that’s not my big hangup with Parc. It’s just that sometimes I feel weird going there because I just don’t know how to dress. On one hand, it is clear that some clientele feel that this place is worthy of a nicer shirt (maybe a collared shirt or a button-down shirt without a tie), but I have a problem with that, because to me, Parc is not quite that up-scale – I just don’t think it’s “fine dining”. Maybe it’s because I’m local and see it all the time – I don’t know. Maybe I’m the patron that no waiter wants to get because I look all cheap-o. Whatever.
In any case, g and I were hungry and had not a single food item in the house (I think we just came back from SF). We resolved that we would simply walk outside and keep walking until something intrigued us. Well, we apparently don’t take many turns at all when we walk, so a straight shot led us right to Parc. I was hesitant. g was hopeful. We went for it.
September 2010, 8pm, Party of 2. I don’t remember the exact date/time/etc … but I do remember that we sat next to a couple that had some bizarre conversation topics (it was their first date) – everything from “What is birthright?” to “So, is every minister of Russia a bad person?”. Hi-lar-i-ous. These were almost as good as one time when we were at Melograno when an adjacent couple (it was their first date, too) were talking about how he had dated her friend for quite some time, prompting her to ask, point blank, “So, what ended it?” … which was then followed by an extensive dating history of all the people they dated on JDate and how they didn’t work. Dude – these two were not messing around – there was some serious dating going on (i.e. “playing for keeps” as I like to say).
The food? g had the warm shrimp salad. She loved it. It is her new favorite salad. The four shrimp were sizable, and the greens were tossed in this creamy lightly-tinged-with-truffle-oil buerre blanc. She totally pwned it (that is not a typo – look it up). We’ve gone back once since then and she just had to get it again rather than try something new … that means it’s reached wild boar bolognese at Melograno status … that’s a pretty high standard to reach!
Me? I had the burger and pomme puree. Why mashed potatoes? It’s because it was featured on “The Best Thing I Ever Ate” – the dude from Dinner Impossible (the super-jacked guy – Robert Irvine) said that Parc’s mashed potatoes were the best he has ever had. I had them. They were good. They were super-smooth and creamy. But I have to confess … they really didn’t come across as mashed potatoes – they came across as some sort of potato creme. It kind of reminded me of when I was little and we used to go to my grandma’s house for Thanksgiving, and she’d serve instant mashed potatoes, and I’d be in charge of mixing them until they were smooth as silk (I hated lumps of dehydrated potato powder – gross!). Of course, we don’t use instant ‘tatoes anymore, but those were fond memories …
The burger? It was ok. Cooked fine with great bread and nice veggies. But to be honest, the meat tasted like ground beef – surprise! I don’t know – I guess I expect beef to sing beefiness, not just say “i’m beef”. But I’m not exactly sure how that can be done – so it’s not like I could even attempt a suggestion. I still say that the Supper Burger reigns supreme – but there are still tons of burgers I have yet to try (Rouge, 500 degrees, Grace Tavern, Smokin’ Betty’s, Butcher & Singer), so don’t let that endorsement mean anything … yet.
Conclusion: Parc is a big restaurant with lots of space (seriously, the indoor seating just keeps going and going!), dressed up people going on first dates, and a fantastic warm shrimp salad.
JG Domestic: Growing Pains
t says: Inspired by the results from our recent poll, we went to dinner at JG Domestic on its first “real” opening night (they had a soft opening the night before of ~ 50 people). On opening night, they capped the reservations at 100 people. g’s train arrived a little early, so I walked on over to 30th street station. I saw this weird light display/installation on the Schuylkill river between Chestnut and Market …
It was kind of cool. There was a crowd of people on the bank below (I was on the skywalk between Chestnut and Market) as well as someone speaking, periods of applause, and a decked-out photographer (tripod, big flash, etc). There was also some info about the installation on the skywalk, but I was far too eager to get to JG Domestic to even bother with reading …
Then, as I began to walk away, there was shouting. That was peculiar – I figured someone was heckling the speaker below. But no. There was a homeless man about 25 feet in front of me shouting “You’re unstable! You’re violent! Get away from me!” to another man that was only 10 feet in front of me. Funny thing was, the second man (he had a sling backpack, so I’m going to call him sling-man) didn’t really say/do anything. He didn’t even have the chic “derelict” look, either (Zoolander, anyone?), so he didn’t appear homeless. But what was weird was that as the shouting man tried to walk away, sling man continued to follow him! Eventually, I cautiously passed both guys as they had stopped walking and the homeless man went looking for something in his pockets. I sped-walked away to avoid either having a confrontation or witnessing a confrontation.
Not more than two steps away, g called. She asked, “Where are you?” I was about to explain, but was afraid that I was still within earshot of the crazed homeless man. So I said, “I’m on my way – I’ll tell you later.” It’s a good thing I didn’t describe anything in that very instant, because I was passed by the homeless man who was walking very quickly (and still followed by sling man!). They crossed Market and started walking … towards the train station. I opted to not cross the street and simply walk parallel to them. Sling man eventually confronted homeless man, who continued to shout at him. I’m not sure what sling man said, but after that, he ceased following the homeless man, who kept walking … to 30th street station … where he found a seat … 25 yards away from where g was standing. I motioned to g to come to me. She didn’t quite get the signal. I motioned again. Nothing. Ugh – when will they perfect telepathy machines? So, I walked to her, told her to follow me, and guided us briskly past the homeless guy towards the crowd of people waiting for cabs (safety in numbers!). I eventually explained to g what was up. Crisis averted. As adrenaline levels returned to normal, we were overcome with hunger. It was Garces Time!
Now, the thing about JG Domestic that is mind-boggling … how are you supposed to walk to it? There really is no good way to cross that street behind 30th Street Station that the Cira Center is on. It’s also quite dark, the cars are fast, and it’s windy. Ok, not just “oh, it’s some wind” – we were in a frickin’ tornado of dirt and garbage. Mmmm, yummy. After waiting patiently for the light to turn red so we could cross, we ran across the street (but not in a straight line because the wind was actually pushing g down the street) and made it into the safety of the Cira Center. As expected, it’s pretty big in there! I surveyed the layout of the area as g took a moment to tame the static cling in her hair. JG Domestic is kind of like a pop-up restaurant in the lobby of a very large building – a very interesting setup. Because there’s no ceiling and limited wall-space, JG Domestic has little control over the ambience of the venue – not like Tinto, which can be dark and sexy, or Distrito which is loud and party-y. Yes, there were some wood elements and some planters, but let’s get real … you’re on the ground floor of the Cira Center. I’m sure g will have some rebuttals to these comments …
We were a bit early, so we asked if we could have a seat at the bar. The hostess was pleasant and said that they would let us know as soon as our table was available. As I led the way to the bar, I immediately realized that the place is kind of … tight. The walkways between tables can fit precisely 1.75 people … meaning that if there is someone in the walkway, there’s no real way to avoid them – especially if they are walking towards you holding plates of food. There were two traffic jams in the walk just to get to the bar, but we arrived safe and sound (I’m an excellent driver).
As we sat, I looked at the menu while g took in the surroundings. She was non-communicative during this time period, as she was trying her very hardest to peer into the kitchen; if Jose was here, she was going to see him. Not three minutes later, she saw him and directed my attention. He looks exactly like he does on tv. He reminds me of one of our Korean friends … which is weird … I don’t think Jose is Korean …
Next, we got down to business with the wine list. g changed it up and eschewed a glass of sauvignon blanc for a pinot gris. I went for rose because I wanted to be refreshed while at the same time matching any of the lighter fare I was going to encounter (plus, I like to believe that summer’s still here). But I made a mistake when I ordered. I ordered “a glass of the rose”. She came back with a glass of sparkling rose. I can’t handle bubbles. I apologized profusely for the mishap while ordering and asked for a glass of the still rose, not sparkling. At first she kind of looked at me funny, but after a few seconds I think it clicked that a still rose was on the wine list as well and that I had not specified sparkling/still. Oops. But she was very nice to me and replaced the glass of wine. Well, on one hand, now I know I won’t make that mistake again, and I’m sure in the future, she’ll be sure to ask customers about their bubble preference. Crisis averted.
We wanted to start off with a snack just to get things going. g spotted a popcorn snack spiked with horseradish and cheese. We went for it. But, about 8 minutes later, a well-dressed woman came over and started talking to us in a very up-beat manner. g thought it was someone that knew her. I thought it was someone who was going to tell us that our table wasn’t going to be ready for another half-hour. Neither of us were right. It turned out that they just couldn’t get the popcorn to pop. Perhaps the microwave was broken? In any case, she recommended the maple bacon pecans. Bacon? Yes please. How did I miss that in the first place?
The pecans came out quickly and they were delicious. They really are the perfect bar food. Salty. Sweet. Finger-pinch-able. Then, 10 minutes later, right when I was about to say, “damn, these are way better than popcorn” … a bowl of popcorn appeared. The server apologized and said, “they figured it out!”. Woohoo. Popcorn and nuts. The popcorn was also delicious – perhaps not as good as the pecans, but that’s not fair given the pork advantage. Nevertheless, it was some mighty fine popcorn, with nice heat and soothing cheese. I think they could have turned up the volume a little more on the horseradish, and sprinkled some cheese throughout the popcorn, but really, it was pretty good as it was. Woohoo for that that microwave starting working again. Crisis averted.
Our table was ready. Well, kind of. Seats at the communal table were ready. Now, g and I don’t mind communal tables. We’ve sat very close to unknown people on multiple occasions, and are very good at blocking them out as well as eavesdropping (just in case they say something interesting). But this communal table had a few issues. The first was that it was very wide. g and I would have had to shout at each other to hold a conversation. Actually, only I’d have to shout, because g can’t hear too good. g, on the other hand, would refuse to shout, and just sit in silence. But that wasn’t the dealbreaker (we’d just text to each other if we had to). The dealbreaker was the presence of a small tree that was the centerpiece of the table. Well, the tree, itself, wasn’t the problem, rather, the fact that the tree had to be potted in a pot that sat underneath the table. It was a very large pot. It was so large, that g actually could not pull her chair up to the table unless she moved it over so far that she was physically touching the person next to her. That, my friends, is a dealbreaker. You can look, but you can’t touch … g asked if we could be seated elsewhere. In the meantime, I ate some nuts, wondering if it would be rude to introduce myself to the couple seated next to us (I like mindgames, too).
After a good two minutes of awkwardness, we were relocated to a bistro table. Hooray! Crisis averted. Thank goodness they didn’t pack out the place (they limited themselves to 100 covers). I suspect they are going to have to revisit the layout of their communal table – there’s just no way you can squeeze six diners between two trees on the table. I realize that by now most readers will have no idea what I’m talking about with trees and the communal table, but just go and see for yourself!
Now, let me talk about these bistro tables. We sat at a two-top. As soon as I sat down, my knees hit a horizontal bar that spans/supports the legs of the bistro table. This was peculiar. I’m a small person with small knees. How is it that I can’t actually pull my chair up to the bistro table? After looking at how the four/six-tops were constructed, I realized that this is because the two-tops were constructed incorrectly. It turns out that you need to rotate the four legs 90 degrees so that the side you put your knees into would not encounter a horizontal bar. Once again, if you have no idea what I’m talking about – go and see for yourself. So, I developed an interesting slouching/leaning/spread eagle posture for the rest of the evening … crisis averted. g, on the other hand, had no problems. I’m not sure how/why. She must have mutant legs.
Ok, on to the food. Having filled up on nuts and popcorn, g and I weren’t super-famished. We ordered two dinners and a cranberry bean soup. That sounded intriguing! Cranberries and beans! It was, after all, the weekend of the Cranberry Festival in South Jersey, so how cool would it be if they were using local cranberries!?! Oops. It turns out that it wasn’t cranberry, rather, cranberry beans. Boy did we feel stupid when our server took our order. In any case, I’m determined to make a soup in the future with cranberries and beans. And it’ll rock.. I’ll let g fill you in on how good the soup was, later.
I ordered the whole animal. This dish featured five different cuts of lamb prepared in different manners on a single plate. It sounded awesome and was the dish that most caught my eye when I saw the menu first go up online some time ago. Then, our server started rattling off the cuts of meat: “Lamb shoulder, lamb belly, lamb-something-else -“. I stopped paying attention after lamb belly. I had never had it before – it was going to be mine. Now I was super-psyched. I began contemplating what wine I would switch to … But then … 12 minutes later … my happiness was crushed … The waitress came back and told me they were out of lamb. The following internal soliloquy deserves a new paragraph – here we go:
“W … T … F. The lamb is one of the most unique things on the menu – probably even the star next to the chef’s tasting. You’re not even operating at full throttle (only 100 covers for the night). Furthermore, it’s only the second night you’ve been open (soft opening the night before with 50 covers), and it’s a Friday (meaning you’re going to be open Sat and Sun as well), and you’re out of lamb by 9pm tonight? Once again. W … T … F. And if the lamb quantity was in such short supply, why didn’t the servers know about it ahead of time so they could “86 the lamb” immediately. Crushing my hopes as I try to order is one thing, but to tell me of lamb belly, to let me order it, to let me imagine it, and then to take it away … it had killed me a little inside. Make up an excuse. Perhaps a chef in the back managed to accidentally drop all of the lamb on the floor, so they couldn’t serve it? Maybe he sneezed on it! But don’t let me think that I’ve been duped! Oh the humanity!”
I returned to the menu in shock and disbelief.
I wasn’t in the mood for salmon or prawns. I had seen the lamb spareribs going to other diners, but they were exceedingly small. g had ordered the steak, so that was out. Boar or chicken … boar or chicken … Having just enjoyed the bacon pecans, I decided to put them to the test. I ordered chicken. Chicken. Could they make chicken that would make me forget about lamb? How about lamb belly? Furthermore, in the realm of “chicken”, there is fierce competition in my book, as Meritage’s Korean Fried Chicken is so delicious. JG would have to bring the thunder. Seriously.
The general manager returned to our table and apologized profusely for not having any lamb. On one hand, this made me feel better, but on the other, I didn’t want her to be under the impression that chicken was an acceptable substitute for lamb. I told her that it was something I was really looking forward to and that I guess I’d just have to come back another time. I hope she received the message: “I came here for the lamb”.
What was funny is that as she was talking to us, a server came by with the soup. She looked at him and was like, “where are their spoons?” He looked befuddled. “I was going to get the-” “No, get them their spoons now. Two spoons, in case they want to share.” Then she gave him a look. I’ve seen this look before. It’s the look g gives me when she’s pissed. Yikes. He retreated to go and get some more spoons. She apologized to us again, and we were totally ok with everything. And she left. The guy came back with a second spoon … it was dirty … Yea, I wasn’t going to say a damn thing. I didn’t want him to get in trouble, and I really didn’t have a problem sharing g’s spoon. It was fine. It’ll be our little secret.
So how was the chicken? Pretty good. Surprisingly, it wasn’t presented on-the-bone – there were two [small] pieces of boneless chicken. The first piece was “amazingly” tender – I almost questioned its done-ness, but it was cooked through. The second was more “great” tender. The corn flakes were crisp, and the white yam and chicken liver gravy added a nice sensation of creaminess and butteriness. All-in-all, pretty good. Very nearly worth $16 (more of a quantity issue than a quality issue).
For dessert, we enjoyed a huckleberry parfait. It had a creme fraiche parfait which was kind of like a slab of creamy, less-sweet cheesecake. Topped with huckleberry reduction and the berries, themselves. It was luxurious and very filling, so even though the chicken dish was a little on the small side, this definitely made me reach fullness. I longed for a few of the pecans because that would have been a great addition to the dessert (berries and creme fraiche gets a bit monotonous after a while), but I’ll know for next time …
Will there be a next time? Sure. We’ll go again. The service had a few hiccups (the general manager totally bitched out one of the servers who attempted to give us soup without spoons – but she didn’t curse – but it was clear that she was unhappy with his performance).
after dinner sneeze 