Where Would I Take Anthony?

My love of Anthony Bourdain is no secret. B gets jealous at just the sound of his voice eminating from our tv. My hatred of Uruguay, and more specifically, its cuisine, is also no secret. That said, I thought they did a poor job of representing the country. I don’t want to complain here, so I decided I would make an alternate journey for him. Here’s where else Anthony would go if I were the fixer:

–Food:

Definetly a traditional Chivito stand, like Lo de Pepe. We would get him a completa, meaning that his flank steak burger would come piled high with ham, cheese, fried egg and all the usual fixings (lettuce, tomato, etc.)

Medialunas Calentitas: Literally little warmed half moons. This shop pops out tiny two finger sized piping hot croissants–or medialunas. I could eat about ten for breakfast. I usually go with the plain, but since Uruguay like to put ham and cheese in everything we’d have one of those and also one with dulce de leche, traditional caramel like sauce.

Would have kept in the trip to mercado del puero. Definetly worth the visit to this shrine of meat. But also would need to find a traditional parilla to go to, with grilled cheese–nope, not like a sandwich, just the cheese (provoleta) grilled over flame. Dip crusty baguette, eat.

Cultural:

The train station! I can’t believe they glossed over it, as it was one of the most intriguing places I visited in town. A museum of old trains as part of a non-profit that provides housing to low income familys in converted parts of the old station.

The Beach. All of Montevideo life deals with La Rambla, the boardwalk that was given a small amount of screen time. I noticed it was damp, I’m thinking they most have hosed off all the puppy poop. Despite ample signs declaring “Lo que hace tu perro es cosa tuya” (literally: that which your dog does is your thing), the thing is covered with dog shit. Yet Montevideanos spend their days walking (never running. How unlady like…and in SHORTS no less) on the something like 36 kilmeters of it. I believe it used to go all the way out to Punta del Este in more prosporous times.

 

I can think of a lot of other things I’d like to take him to, however I think he did a lot of things well. I wish he’d talked to more Uruguayans and fewer people who’d lived outside of Uruguay. But the Mercado was good, Cabo Polonia was accurate, the Estancia was cool. And I was glad to see some Chori-pan, late night street food of chorizo hot dogs!

The Great Bag Debate: An Unintended Consequence

For those  out of the loop, or, say, the greater Seattle area, our city council is working on a proposal that you will be charged 20 cents for every plastic bag you use to carry your groceries home. Now, don’t get me wrong, I TRY to bring my own bags to the store, but I am a little forgetful. I’m all for paper, except when I have a ten block walk home–even worse if it is in the rain. So I’m not a huge fan of the new rules, but whatever, they won’t affect me very much.

The unintended consequence that I’m so very excited about, however, is that in the last 3 months I’ve recieved three new tote bags as freebies. The grocery tote has replace the crummy t-shirt as the ‘it’ give-away, and I’m excited about it. My collection of tote bags has gone from 1 to 4 and now I get to pick…is it a PCC day (from a half-marathon) or a MercyCorps kind of day (from a charity gig I did)?

Strawberry Mint Frozen Yogurt

Supplies were dwindling, the economy hitting home. I couldn’t bear the thought of not having my latest ice cream flavor in the freezer. You give a girl an ice cream maker… Suddenly I was an addict. I contemplated my fridge–the dairy was scarce, no milk, no cream. I refused to go to the store and buy more milk, cream and eggs. A $10 run could easily turn scary big. Could I unmake the cream that I’d made into butter last week? Then, hanging out in the back corner of the second shelf, there it was. The final third of a Cascade Fresh plain flavor yogurt. It tasted a little tangy, but definitely still good. It went to the counter and I set to work. The main flavor was easy–a bag of strawberries in the freezer from an impulse Costco purchase that, no matter how hard we tried, we were unable to finish last month. But what else? I lacked the citrus I would normally add for freshness. I dug in the crisper, and came up with some sorry looking mint. Sorry enough that I had to do some creative chopping for only the good parts. It was settled, strawberry mint frozen yogurt.

How to make:

Dissolve 2 tablespoons of baker’s sugar into a half cup of vodka, set aside

Chop the strawberries (I used about 2 cups because it was what I had) and add to the yogurt (again, I used what I had, about a cup) and blend. When almost fully blended, add the mint.

Stir in the vodka/sugar mixture and put in the fridge to chill for one hour, then churn in an ice cream maker.

I say Devon, You Say Devon: The Final Chicago Post

The title, in its more readable form should say “I say Deh-vuhn, you say DEH-Vawn.” While I did all of my research for the Chicago trip, like a good little foodie, one thing that I couldn’t plan for was pronunciation. At Adam’s party on the 4th I was explaining the plan and a girl extremely politely and very calmly pointed out to me that I had been pronouncing the tantalizing Indian area of town as Devon, like the name. Turns out it is known as Devon, as in kind of rhymes with teflon (take out the l).

Properly prepared with proper pronunciation and a delicious breakfast of homemade Swedish pancakes and lingonberry jam, we set off for our last day in Chicago. We visited Millennium Park and looked at the giant bean–is it fava or lima? We took the fascinating Chicago Architecture Boat Tour (highly recommend this to everyone) which manages to be basic enough that it was enjoyable to the clueless and still interesting enough that B the engineer was riveted–and he’d been on it before. Plus it managed to keep the cheesy jokes that boat tour operators love so much to a minimum. 

Having worked up quite the appetite, we headed up to Devon for lunch/dinner. We settled on the very pretty Sabri Nehari. The whole neighborhood has beautiful bright colors in every window and this one was no exception. The linens were a deep red and everything was bathed in a lush light. The room looked inviting, so in we went.

We were given two chutneys and a plate of vegetables. The vegetables were maybe not the freshest or best for serving raw/for dipping (ever had a crudite tomato?), but the sauces were good. The beef samosas that we started with were different than any I had tried before, smaller and more like a phyllo dough texture than a pie dough that they usually have. The filling was also slightly different, the grind a bit smaller, creating more of a paste inside. I enjoyed it–certainly more than the one from Arya at the Taste. 

For main dishes I ordered the restaurants namesake special, the Nehari. B’s mom was hoping for tandoori, but this was a different ethnicity, so I recommended the Chicken Boti for a similar but different dish. B, always a sucker for lamb chose the lamb dish that I can’t remember the name of…but I think was the only lamb on the menu. The chicken, while better than anything we have around here, was nothing out of this world, however the lamb and the nehari were both unbelievable. The sauce the beef is in for the nehari is velvety rich with meat flavor, thick and spicy. The meat just fell apart on our tongues, releasing the deliciousness all over our mouths. The lamb, similar but slightly spicier, had all the same makings of an amazing dish. You could really taste the gamey flavor of the lamb, yet the strong spice flavors were also prominent. A terrific balance. Overall, this was a wonderful last meal in Chicago and makes me wish I had the time to stop at all the great restaurants in this neighborhood.

Luckily, we did have time for one last stop, at Uru Swati, to pick up some chaat, little indian snacks, to take home. We chose ‘hot mix’ a spicy sweet mix of various nuts and seeds, and something in a big bag that look like mini pretzel sticks. We tried a little of everything before choosing these and the owner was a total sweetie as we picked and chose. A good last minute flavor before hoping on the plane.

Back to Tasting Chicago

I know these post in reverse order…so this could be the first segment or the third on our trip…But either way, it is the part about tasting the real tastes of chicago. We started our morning by parking at the Roosevelt Road El stop and walking over to Canal Street for the Maxwell Street Market. I love markets. I love the hustle, the bustle and most of all the myriad of stuff for sale. While we wandered, I ached to have a place like this in Seattle. Our first stop for food was the eyeball taco stand. B ordered a barbacoa taco, I ordered an ojo barbacoa. The taco was shockingly tasty. The eye took in all the barbacoa flavors, but its texture was more like that of bone marrow, or the fatty part of stewed pork belly. Creamily fatty are the words I would use. It fit in to my taco perfectly. We washed them down with a giant cup of tasty horchata. Why is the horchata better there than it is here? It just isn’t fair! We continued along, through the wave of people (at least as crowded as the taste had been the day we had gone). We stopped again at a taco stand for quesadillas for the kids and a huitlacoche taco for me. Huitlacoche is a corn fungus. It is black. Black foods scare people. Fungus scares people. This looks like black beans. Feels, again, like marrow. Tastes a little like mushrooms. The fact that it was wrapped in an amazing hand made tortilla made the whole thing even better. And the hot sauce, a yellowish thing in a jar, was very good. And spicy.

It was a hot day, and the market is enormous! Tonia, B’s sister in law stopped for a corn on a stick. Those are great, if you ever see a Mexican weilding a corn stand, I reccomend stopping. We have them here, so I only tried a bit, but as usual it was covered with mayonnaise, chile and salt. Sounds strange, tastes great (If I had a tv show, I think that would be my motto). We were just heading out the north end of the market when something caught my eye–a pupusa stand! Pupusas are flat, griddled…things? They look something like a pita bread, but the texture is more like a tortilla. I got a mixta, stuffed with beans, cheese and chicharrones (pork rinds). Then I dribbled the traditonal cabbage slaw over top. This really makes the dish. It has a warm, rich mouthfeel, then the vinegary slaw just cuts right through. A great way to finish up the morning at the market.

From the Market we moved on to Greektown. We passed by a bunch of restaurants that had been reccomended–too touristy (Pantheon), too cutesy for a group of 7 with small children (Artopolis)– and ended up picking Venus because the flower boxes in the window were really cute and the bar was in the shape of a boat. Unfortunately they didn’t let us sit in the window, despite the fact that when we arrived we were the only people there (it was 230 on a Sunday afternoon, and it did fill up while we were there). The service was not bad, but was very brusque and coarse in a way I hadn’t experienced in a while. It pained me to see the Mexican busboy being so rudely ordered around in nearly incomprehensible spanish by our waiter. The bread and olives that came out immediately were both very good. We ordered a variety of appetizers. The traditional saganaki was pretty run of the mill saganaki, it was fun for the kids to see it lit on fire, but the waiter did it very methodically and didn’t bother waiting while the kids turned around, as we rushed to get them to be paying attention. The Taromasalata (a personal favorite) was a huge hit, even with squemish eaters of all ages. It helped that we did not tell them what it was (fish eggs) until later. The oven roasted potatos were a big hit with most of the crowd, but overall were nothing out of the ordinary. We also ordered a fried eggplant which was a huge dissapointment. The eggplant was not thoroughly cooked, and thus was still hard inside the flavorless breading, under the flavorless sauce. Overall, however, the meal was enjoyed by all. Nothing was out of the ordinary, but it was all good eating.

From here we hopped on the blue line to the red line and got off at Addison for a bit of wandering up there. Surprise! We got off and there was Wrigley Field! Pictures all around. There was also some sort of block party/music fest going on, which is always fun to stumble by. We headed up Grace street in search of El Mercado Meat Market. Once found, I went on a bit of a nostalgia trip from when I lived in Uruguay. Then I bought alfajores for the kids–these are to delicious, soft flaky cookies that are pressed together with a caramel like substence known as dulce de leche. I was bummed that they were out of beef empanadas, but settled for a chicken one, and it did the trick, sending me reeling down memory lane–as much as the cuisine of Argentina has a great rep, Uruguay lacks much beyond alfajores and empanadas that is worth mentioning. I lived on these things while I was there.

As we kept walking we saw a store called CB2 which I had heard good things about, unfortunately I was the only one in the mood to stop, and I was shot down. We finally made it to Laschet’s Inn, and we had some very tired people on hand. This was the last stop for all but B and myself. We had some great stuff here–wonderful German beers that were exactly what we wanted in the afternoon heat, and tasty little snacks. I had the Hofbrau Summer brew, B the Spaten Optimator. Yes, we can get these at home, but the food and the environment we can’t. The place is super cute, like a German chalet–ok, I’ve never been to a German chalet, but it was a lot like the ones in Switzerland…Low cielings, cozy feelings. And then the food–we ordered a ‘jumbo’ pretzel and hackepeter. The jumbo pretzel, was, was advertised, quite jumbo. Bigger than my head, I’d say (quiet, there in the peanut gallery), delicious, warm, doughy, with the perfect amount of salt. The hackepeter is a steak tartare. It was served on a rye bread, which I wasn’t a huge fan of, with onions and capers. The velvety texture of the steak was amazing, some of the best tartare I’ve had. I scraped it from the rye and put it on the pretzel with capers for an unbelievable treat. If you are in the Chi-town area, I reccomend a beer break here.

From here, waving goodbye to the others, B and I headed to Spoon Thai. Wow. A dive from the outside, with a sign that looks like it belongs over a jo-jo’s stand in Renton, inside was beautiful blonde wood walls and silver Thai carvings on the wall. We were only on the crawl, so we each ordered a Thai iced tea and split an appetizer off the Thai Menu. It was a beef jerky with tamarind dipping sauce and it was perfect. The beef was coated in a glaze, then with the hot/sweet of the sauce, it should excellent skill and flavors. We had them box the rest up and headed for a stop at our friends house. They were grilling, and of course, insisted we try some of the chicken they were making. Though the coals were a little hot for the thickness of the breasts, the meat turned out extremely tender and perfect for dipping in the honey habanero sauce they had made.

From here we were tired, and about to cut the tour off when I insisted we hit one last place. B’s brother, B2 had joined us at this point and the three of us headed to Palace Gate, a Ghanaian restaurant.

I have no idea what we ordered. We asked, What is best? and the lady said “mumbojumbo….but….you don’t want it….its too spicy for you” at which point B and I simoultaneously jumped out of our seats and frantically exclaimed in an effort to make sure that we got that thing. We take that quote as a perfect description of what we know we want! We also got one other thing at her reccomendation. One item was a beef and fish stew, yellow in color and viscous in texture. The other item was beef in sauce, slopped over a pile of starches that included noodles, rice, beans and plantains. We were also given a bowl of another starch, which seemed to be a cornmeal dough of some type. It reminded me of solidified arepa dough. We used it to dip into the stew sauce. This was my favorite dish of the day. I think the mucus texture of the stew must have come from okra, but I don’t mind that texture as much as many people do. It tasted good. $20 covered more food than the three of us could shake a stick at! The plate of starches was also good, the sauce on the meat especially. I also enjoyed the plaintains, but could take or leave the rice and noodles. All of it was extremely spicy, in the best kind of way, where it builds up and leaves your lips burning for a while afterword. Another strong reccomendation here.

We headed back to our friends place to round out the evening with some beers and low and behold, what should show up but a box of deep dish pizza! Well, given we were touring the city for food, we couldn’t turn down a slice of the native dish. We each had a slice of the stuff, from Chicago’s Pizza. It was pretty good, though I have little to compare it to. I would eat more of it, suffice it to say.

Finally, as the night got late, we hopped back on the Red line to journey back to Indiana. We were almost home at 130 am, when the lights of the White Castle lit up the corner. Like Harold and Kumar, B knew what needed to happen. He veered off the highway and we went in to get me that holy grail, the object of Harold and Kumar’s affection. No, I’d never had one before. Yes, I’ve now experienced one. And you know what? I’d do it again. Something quirky and wonderful about any burger served at 2 am, but this was more than that. I liked it. Wouldn’t trade a Dick’s for it, but I’d hit it up again.

Eating in Indiana

Part two of our trip to Chicago is the part where we head to Indiana. I was meeting B’s family for the first time and I was nervous. Suddenly there were 20 Tomky’s all around! Luckily they were all very nice and interested in talking to me and I tried to stay calm. It was very tiring, and eventually I had to retreat for a nap, but not before I got to try some new foods (don’t worry, this still is and always will be a blog first and foremost about food). Aside from the usual hamburgers and hot dogs, B’s family is swedish and thus had a few Swedish eats around. That was wonderful. We started with a few pepperkokar cookies, like thin gingerbread, accompanied by some lovely mojitos made with mint fresh from his mother’s garden! Her plants are clearly doing better than mine, which to be honest don’t look all that much worse then before I abandoned them for 5 days. Which says more about how they looked before than their resiliance to apathetic care. Right, Swedish food. The swedish meatballs were terrific, in a thick gravy, and cooked till just done, meaning they retained great texture and flavor. There was also swedish potato sausage. I loooooved this. Seriously, it tasted like matzoh ball sausage. I think I’m going to get me some next time I find myself in Ballard. Or Ikea. It was in broth with some slightly bland vegetables, luckily B’s Grandpa rescued them with “slap ya momma” cajun seasoning spices. Very funny.

There were leftovers, but upon returning from firework watching, the three tomky brothers and myself ransacked the fridge for leftovers and left not even a crumb of Swedish yummies behind.

Did I fail to mention dessert? I don’t know what was in Grandma’s banana cream pie, but darn it was good! I was awoken from my nap to try some, and that was just fine with me.

The Taste of Chicago…And Tasting Chicago

Last weekend I was in Chicago, ostensibly to meet B’s family. “Find out all the best food” he told me, encouragingly. So there was born a second reason for the trip to Chi town, a tasting of the best food we could find. We arrived on Thursday evening and went to meet some friends at a bar called the Hopleaf. I was excited they suggested this place, as it was on my list to try anyways. Great beer selection, delicious curry mussels. Let me rephrase, transcendent curry mussels. I was impressed. Pretty good fries, pretty good pork belly with strange sauces. I would stick with the good beers and the mussels.

From there we moved next door and I tried a Goose Island “Honkers” beer which was fun and tasty…then it was off to bed to get ready for the next morning at….The Taste.

The Taste Of Chicago Yes, I was warned. “You’ll be hot sweaty and there are a million people and its expensive, blah blah blah.” They told me horror stories. The crowds, the masses. I came in prepared for warfare. I left happy as a clam and very full. It was in fact a wonderful experience. Upon arrival, we got tickets and started eating. First we hit up the Beef Sandwich at Ricobene’s. This was very good. Whenever possible, we tried to do Taste Portions, as they were far more reasonable prices and we could try more stuff. The taste portion at Ricobenes was perfect. The sandwich was well fried, the crisp breading was thin enough that it didn’t overwhem the meat, but enhanced it and the meat was far more tender than I expected. The bread and sauce were nothing special, but were good enough that they matched up to the flavors of the sandwich.
Next we headed to Vee Vee’s for some jerk chicken (taste portion). This was nothing special. I had heard good things, but really it was pretty average, not enough flavor, the cruddy bits of chicken. Dissappointing. We moved on to the specialty beer tent so we could get something that was not bud or bud lite. I discovered a tasty and refreshing Beach Bum Blonde. Beer was slightly pricey, but really not that bad for a festival, and unlike here in Seattle, you didn’t have to stay in the designated drinking area, which was nice. We picked up Cochinita Pibil at the Adobo Grill next. These were not taste portions, so they struck me as quite expensive. On top of that, they were nothing special. Good tacos, but nothing unbelievable. One at taste portion would have been a better value. We continued our wander when B decided to veer from the list. Good things rarely happen when we do that. Oops. We had some not very good roasted corn from O’Brien’s. We soldiered on finding the Costa’s Gyro stand. These were very good gyros. The sauce all dripped out the end (and onto my dress) which sucked, as it wasn’t on the meat, but the meat had a lot of flavor and the whole thing was very good. We picked up some more tickets and got a taste portion of samosa at Arya something starting with a B’s. It was a very average, if not mediocre, samosa. It was put into sauce which made it soggy. Lame. I was dissappointed there. Luckily things took a turn for the better here, as we tried the BJ’s Market catfish. These were extremely good. I had recently had a bad catfish experience, and this proved to me I could like it again. Yum! From here we headed through the one crowded corridor. You just have to really embrace the ridiculousness, the festiveness. And have nowhere to be any time soon, too. That helps. We picked up a slice of Lou Malnati’s cheese pizza. I had deep dish pizza many years ago, but I have no recolection of like or dislike. I don’t like too much sauce on my pizza, and I think I was concerned that much of the deepness of the dish would be filled with sauce. It turned out it was not. There was a lot of cheese (I love cheese) and crust (I love crust). It had definately been sitting for a bit, but the taste was good, and the slightly thick cheese (because it was no longer melted) didn’t bother me. I liked it. I like deep dish. This was a good thing to learn. After this we hopped out of the taste to pick up some better beer at a nearby mini mart then sat on the grass to hear a favorite band of ours, Old 97’s. They played a great festival set and we were buzzed and happy as we moved on in our adventure. We headed to a feared sign: “Latino/Indian Fusion.” That is a travesty. Ugh, I hate fusion. However, what we had been told to try, mango cumin dusted fries, was delicious. Good fries, good flavorings. It was a taste portion and it totally hit the spot. As I thought about it, mango and cumin are really not fusion, as both are heavily used in both latin and indian cuisine. It was the fries that made it fusion. And let’s be honest, what DOESN’T go well with french fries? (I’m actually excited to hear any answers to that questions…). We had extra tickets left and again B made the poor decision to stray from the list. We got a brat and a perogei at a near by stand. Both were miserably bad. The brat had zero flavor and the bread was dry and there was too much of it in relation to the meat. The one measly perogei I got (by far the smallest ‘taste’ portion) was greasy and limp. Not the best way to end the night. So we didn’t!

We headed up to our friend’s brothers house for a fourth of July fiesta. We met lots of great people, learned a ton about chicago. Hung out on a chicago style porch. Ate more food: They prepared chicken and steak for tacos, delicious chilequiles (I love chilequiles), rice. They had lemonade, mineral water and vodka cocktails, which I could have drank a ton of. It was a really good time. I was starting to really like Chicago. I never like other places. I liked Chicago…

Finding the Holy Grail: Mind Blowing Dim Sum

For the last year (or 24 years, though the first 23 were unknowingly) I have been searching for something that I know exists, yet had never seen myself, a holy grail of my own sort. A dim sum that could both blow me away with traditional tidbits and show me the unknown path to new and better dim sum. Growing up in Seattle I always loved a variety of places–the Top Gun in Seattle sticks in my mind as a favorite, but always new there was something better out there. Last year on our trip to New York we never made it out to Flushing and were consistently dissapointed in the offerings in Manhattan. Without a trip to San Fran in my future, I set my sights on Vancouver. Close enough for repeated efforts, with much opportunity.

This weekend I made it one step closer. I don’t want to say I achieved it, because, of course, there could be better, but I was satisfied. Fisherman’s Terrace in the Crystal Mall gets top scores on value, traditional stuff done well and on introducing me to new stuff. Minus points for telling me it was a 20 minute wait and then leaving us hanging for a full hour. Bonus points for being in a mall that had amazing soup dumplings (Shanghai Shanghai) that I could eat while I waited. I will definetly be torn in the future between trying this again and going out in search of better dim sum.

We started with shu mai. These were worlds ahead of any shu mai I’ve ever tried–whole shrimpies (no heads though), chunks of mushroom, held together with flavorful pork. There was enough skin to perfectly hold the thing together and even loan a little flavor. The top was amply sprinkled with tobiko. I was floored. Floored by a shu mai, who knew that could happen? Dishes arrived, none quite as shocking as the the shu mai. The mini pork buns were sub par, didn’t hold up to the ones at nearby Gingeri, but most everything else was the best I’d had of its kind. The chicken feet (which were originally missed in our order…I’m not claiming white person discrimination…but it is fishy!) were accompanied by the longest “ankle” (as my co-worker calls it) I’ve ever seen. We munched through taro root cakes (unbelievable, crisp taro flavor, texture), dried scallop and shrimp rice rolls, and a whole lot more. My favorite new item is what I have dubbed Jew food meets dim sum: a crisp chip topped with fruit salad (that part isn’t jewish) topped with smoked salmon and a creamy mayonaisse. It was truly like a chinese version of bagels and lox! All in all, a fun, interesting and eye opening experience.