Austin: A Wonderful Sort of Weird

As I think we've started to establish, June was a month of adventures. Per usual, most of those adventures involved a trip to a new place that was made up of dozens of miniadventures containing snacks.

{Perhaps there are adventures to be had that don't involve snacks but they are not mine.}

Moving on. Does anyone remember last year when I just flat out fell in love with Portland? To the point that I was wantonly surfing Craigslist every so often "just to see"? That was during my first IACP Conference. My second one, this year, was in downtown Austin, Texas.


And of course the next gathering of my people (the ones who've dedicated their lives to the edible arts and related interests), would be in another exceptionally cool town that was somehow foreign to date.

This time I skipped Craigslist altogether. I've found my house. It's in Hyde Park, just around the corner from Antonelli's Cheese Shop, Quack's and Asti. A solid bike ride from downtown and a ride that if done often enough might burn off the thigh penalties attached to those three neighbors. You'll know you're close when you see a gigantic fork. How fitting. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

The trip started on a particularly hot Wednesday. As it happened, the same Wednesday wherein the First Lady made a pretty major announcement around Let's Move! and the week leading up to revised dietary guidelines. So quite the week to be surrounded by people who are passionate about food and nutrition. And that's why it began with a kick-off covering all of the above at the Texas State Capitol building.

That was the perfect start to four full days of intelligent discussion. We didn't always agree but it was always a respectful conversation between peers. I came out better for it, energized and just really grateful to get to do what I do. Even more grateful to see an increasingly familiar bunch of faces at IACP from the food blogging world. There will be more to say on that elsewhere soon, but I'll stick to romancing my travel snacks in these parts. Work/Life balance, don't you know.

Okay, so maybe one of the more grateful moments I had was when Dorie Greenspan handed me one of her oh so famous CookieBar butter sables from an AirStream trailer. That had been tricked out by Culinapp, a nifty little tablet app. Cookies+Dorie+retro transportation+digital food geekery. Bake at 100 degrees of "dry heat" and slap a smile on my face for at least a week.

I'll stop now, promise. I'll even transition by saying not much washes down a sable like a prosecco cocktail on the patio at the Hotel San Jose. Conference days are long and the real world does not stop turning because you're not around. Booking this hotel back in November was about the smartest thing I've done all year. I loved it. Loved it like the Ace. Loved it like my office in a dry, hot sauna with great music, strong wifi and beverage service. If you have an Austin trip on the horizon, just book it. You'll love the neighborhood.

That wasn't the only advance planning that happened for the trip though. I might have been on vacation the week prior to Austin but that doesn't mean I skipped out on my homework. Between standard reads like Boots in the Oven, Poco-Cocoa and the ever so lovely Stetted and new reads like Austin Gastonomist and Fete and Feast, I had a solid bunch of research to ground my limited number of eating and drinking (italics) opportunities.

TKTC Austin List

Uchiko- Incredible meal. Maybe top two best Japanese meals I've ever had. Three and a half hours start to finish in absolutely excellent company.
Asti Trattoria- Another incredible meal but on my own. A conference tradition at the end of a lot of people time. Delightful service, lovely neighborhood and the food was divine.
Taco Deli- Annie and Neal insisted. And they were right. Taco Deli breakfast tacos picked up from Jo's near the San Jose was a spicy way to start the day.
East Side Showroom- The bar that made me miss living in the South. Or True Blood. Or both. This place is a nonnegotiable for a cocktail with music. Another winner from the Murrays and I've promised myself I'll get to neighbor Shangri-La next time.
Frank- A serendipitous lunch with Megan and Kathryn that involved fries dressed up as nachos and a hot dog so rich I excavated. Frank and Doug would have a lot to talk about.
Amy's Ice Cream- Lila, Brenda and I may have had Grasshopper cones for dinner one night.
Woodland- With a pie chaser. Of course.
Lambert's- Real friends bring you brisket in a soaked through paper bag while you work an Expo booth. It is known.
Quack's- Worth the field trip for the most adorable flooded sugar cookies. Molly McGuff-approved.
Antonelli's Cheese Shop- Do I really need to say more than cheese, salumi and wine? No.
Cake & Spoon (Farmer's Market)- Miniature quiche that reignited my love for caramelized onions.
Hotel Saint Cecilia The pretties party patio that ever existed. I want to take that gigantic tree with me wherever I go. They hung chandeliers from its branches. Chandeliers, you guys.
Hotel San Jose- I know I already mentioned it but it really was the scene of some of my favorite evenings. Sangria with Gaby and Lillian, coffee with Ari (!)...just a delightful spot for a chat.
Gordough's- Fresh doughnuts from a trailer. I had the Elvis to complete my comparison to VooDoo.
The Odd Duck- I would not have made it to Odd Duck or Gordough's with some urging from Ben. I'm going to go out on a limb and say if Ben has a hunch and he shares it with you, you should just say thank you and follow at a hustle.
The Broken Spoke- I can't and won't keep this to one line.

All this said, I hope you're getting how affectionate I feel toward Austin. I'll be back. I'll have twenty other places I didn't get to try when I do. But as in all other things, I loved this place through the lens of the one I loved before it.

I never shook Portland.

In the weeks ahead of Austin, I knew Brenda and Danielle, two Portland conference comrades made last year, would be in Texas with me. Brenda's invitation to join an existing Uchiko reservation meant a night among the kind of people you just feel like you've been sharing tables with for years. Brenda, Lila and Andrea became my adopted pack of sorts for the rest of the week, thus only furthering my devotion to Portland even while running around an entirely different kind of place.

To the point that, even now, I have moments when I make a mental note to invite them to that dinner at that place and then remember none are in walking distance in the way I somehow expect them to be. That's what happens when you eat an extravagant amount of uni with someone, they bring you barbecue brisket take-out then everyone eats ice cream for dinner and eventually goes two-stepping.

Speaking of which, my last night in Austin was spent at a Honky Tonk which by some series of small miracles was totally documented. The two photos at the very top, the one just above and all the delights below were shot by the ever so multi-talented Brenda Crow.

This is George. He might be some of the best Austin has to offer. George and the other regulars at the Broken Spoke represented an approach to nightlife that unfortunately seems have diminished over time. It's joyful. No worries about who came with who, everyone just dances with everyone and you get asked. George is pushing 80 but even the younger guys-it was never creepy, it was just good fun.

Even for dear, uncoordinated me. George took it upon himself to teach all three of the ladies in attendance how to two step. I dance about as well as I sing so this was quite an undertaking but again...oh it was just fun. Great classic country with that throaty twang and a steel guitar...I want to go back. Not in general, tomorrow.

Part of that, again though, owes to company. This is Tony. Once Mike left, Tony was basically Bosley to our Angels. He can clearly hold his own.

This is Andrea. Andrea is going to give me an excuse to go to Alinea, Girl and the Goat, Longman & Eagle and Big Star all in one weekend. Lila had to leave a day earlier but my goal is to get all three of them down at once.

And that was me up top in a similar series. Enjoying the hay out of the city, the honkytonk, the Lone Star and the company. But that's the thing with adventures...they aren't meant to last forever. Eventually the pie and the brisket and the 20 hour days and the cocktails and the talking till you're hoarse will catch up with you. Like a 6 year old crashing after a particularly good birthday party, no one even needs to ask, it is written right across your face.

The party was fun but gather your goody bag and say goodbye to your friends. It's time to go home.

Marauding on Weekend Street

It was just one of those good weekends. Friday night started with a knitting lesson with some new friends for Karen's hilarious 30th birthday project (I'm a little obsessed with this idea). That came with wine and a lovely spaghetti squash dish for dinner courtesy of Leah. Then thanks to the power of Twitter and an open-minded partner in crime, I got to toast Katie for her birthday at Innjoy with Robin and TC, then finally made it to the Burlington for one of Jim and Michelle's DJ gigs.

Saturday afternoon was pretty much strong-armed by the dentist. That was probably the least fun piece of weekend but I had a Fresh Air podcast and Terri Gross really did help pass the time. Reward was a fun trip to Whole Foods. If my face hadn't been numb, I might have even had a glass of wine. That would have been absolutely tragic given the circumstances so I just shot wanton looks at everyone else's wine and tried to avoid smiling so I didn't frighten the children. This became a totally moot point because I arrived home to see a snow family had been built in our front yard by the much beloved neighbor kids. They'd made a snow incarnation of Honeycat (who adores them as much as I do). N,o I don't have a picture of either the snowcat or my crazy Two-Facesque expression when I found it. Face still numb, smiling like a crazy person. I love neighbors/neighborhoods.

Saturday night (once I had full use of my face back) was just a beautiful chunk of absurdity. A bunch of us met up at Big Star and even the wait was a joy thanks to some delicious margaritas and some "preview tacos" holding us over (that would be KP and I up top, photo credit to G's iPhone). Different people came to meet us throughout the night and by the end of our taco tenure, there was dancing. So much dancing that we decided to take our talents elsewhere and ended up at Rodan. More dancing. Til the music stopped. Were we done? Apparently not. Off to the Flat Iron. Pool and 90's hip hop and ohmyGOODNIGHT it is 5 in the morning. As in a half hour before my alarm goes off for the gym on weekdays. I could not tell you the last time that happened.

I slept for a lot of a beautiful day on Sunday and I wouldn't take it back. I opened the windows and the cat and I just languished in heavy covers, fresh air and sunshine. I called Gina from bed and we recapped the evening with cracked voices and laughter that hurts a little bit because it feels like your brain is part of a pinball machine. When I did get up it was done with jaunty step. A long walk around the neighborhood, a cake to bake and all the fixings.The weekend shop closed with a proper Sunday supper. Lo and Christina are two of my best friends from college and it was just the most delicious rewind to have them around the table. Dinner was inspired by Kona Bistro, our favorite restaurant in Oxford. Smashed Salmon Salad (which has even been documented here before) and "Winning of Hearts and Minds Cake" from Orangette. I wish I could have shown a clip of it to the three twenty year olds sitting in our dining room on West Collins. They're both wives now- one husband makes tremendous chocolate cookies, one sent his wife to my house with miniature artisan grilled cheese sandwiches. Which is to say, they are both winners in my book. Everyone with joy in their work and life in general. These are good things.

This is a strange type of post for this place- more of a journal entry and kind of a throwback to days of yore. I just don't want to forget it. Not the time untangling yarn and telling stories, not the cabs dotting the west side, not the solo adventures in food shopping, not the hiccups or the hijinks. I don't want to forget cool sheets and the sweetest cat or a house that feels like home and smells like cake.

A Creature of Habit: Travel Traditions

I'm about to contradict myself. Let's not pretend it's the first time. In my last post I got all lament-y about my lack of consistency. All I had to do was go back to San Francisco- it took me all of 2 hours to fall back on something familiar and fantastic.

I was in town for the Foodbuzz Festival last weekend and lo and behold, I was on the ground and chomping at the bit to get to my beloved 18th and Guerrero. Tartine isn't exactly a secret but, like all the good places, in the last three years of fall pilgrimages it's felt more and more like my own. The tastiest tradition I've ever had on the road.
I arrive in San Francisco with a belly already rumbling after an early morning and a long flight. I get myself checked in at the hotel, I check in on my emails and then I check into 16th Street on the BART. Like clockwork. Even with all its fanfare, there's still reliably a spot at a communal wooden table waiting for me in the middle of the afternoon. I plug into the spot with the best view of the door so I can watch the Mission's eclectic brand of persons strolling in and out.

Then there's the order. Three years have seen only the slightest of alterations and I've now gotten several friends on-boarded to the same, perfect combination (Jess, Sabrina). One croque monsieur, formerly turkey and now shiitake. The main course and perfect for someone who went light on breakfast but has a way to go till dinner. A slab of Tartine's famous bread saturated but for the crusts with béchamel, gruyere, thyme and seasonal vegetables. It's warmed and toasted through when it's laid on the table several minutes later. In a rare bit of portion control, I set half aside last week so I could have it for breakfast the following morning (top picture). One of my better ideas.


The next component is where the truly blush-worthy noises come into play. The lemon cream tart. Thursday, Chelsee came to meet me for her first introduction to this heralded place de pain. She'd eaten lunch already but joined me with her own tart, it's that beautiful that you know on sight that you need your own. Now I'm a published sucker for lemons but this is just a new league. The cream is so balanced between sour and sweet, the most graceful cloud of cream resting right on top (convinced that baby angels scoop up the cream with their creaseless little palms). In the picture above (2009), it's pretty clear I was already halfway through my dessert when my sandwich arrived. I was powerless.

The recipe is in their first book but I'm thus far too entranced in my little getaway romance to want to approach it in my own kitchen. I'm hearing that Floriole Bakery in Lincoln Park has made a solid run at this favorite confection of mine. I'd almost rather not know. I love my tradition. I love the people and textures and the sense of locality I get to borrow on brief San Francisco runs. Maybe I'm still not consistent, per se, but I sure do love a tradition.

Monday Soup: Curried Lentil Stew with Kale, Red Onion and Coconut Milk

I've just now had the exquisite experience of craving something comprehensively wonderful and then being able to realize the bowled vision in my own kitchen.

I cook a lot. I like it. It's like meditating without the the mat that smells like plastic and feet. And still- this is exhilerating. I've never made this recipe before and yet on the first attempt I'm content. That does not happen at my house. I may be satiated, even happy, but rarely am I content. Happy is a fleeting high, content means I want to stop moving for more than a string of minutes.

It started a few weeks ago when I picked up take-out from Mana before babysitting. I think I've mentioned it before but 2.5 years since it opened, that place still blisses me out. Having fresh, inventive vegetarian food a 5 minute walk from my door has not ceased to be a treat. Anyhow, on the night in question, the special was a lentil soup. I can't say I was immediately wooed but figured I was due for something healthy to temper my standing order of collard greens and polenta.

I slurped that first spoonful and then did not take more than a few sparse breaths from brim to bottom of my borrowed bowl. Sweet and spiced and warm and textured- I've been thinking about it ever since but today the longing was so powerful that I called them. I called Mana. The first thing I asked was whether they'd be serving my magical soup this week.

Yes, I'll hold.

A new voice on the line- Jill Barron, the chef. She does not schedule her specials but she's glad I like the soup and incidentally which lentil soup did I like so much?

Quiet on the line.

Then I tried to describe the flavors. It was confirmed to be Curried Red Lentil soup. I may have then started shamelessly guessing ingredients. Palpable desperation over soup. She, rightly, refused and said to keep checking back.

I stewed (pun intended).

I had lentils.
I had a huge pot of homemade chicken stock taking up refrigerator real estate (one equal to its size had already been frozen).
I had a large red onion. And garlic. And carrots from my CSA box
I had gorgeous bunches of dinosaur kale.
I had curry and cayenne.

I had soup.

A quick audit of Google Reader directed me to this recipe on Epicurious. Well, my $.89 pound of lentils were green, not red. And I had kale in lieu of chard. Then I saw a few other recipes. Some folks were putting coconut milk into their versions. I nosed around and found a little can picked up on a whim on Argyle.

As soup is another tremendous vehicle for the stuff I love so dearly, I also took stock of a rogue purple potato and the last of my cherry tomatoes. In the back of the fridge I found a jar of Chile Colonial Chile Crunch (oh condiment of kings) and a lone Greek yogurt.

What do they say? Pride comes before the fall. Duly noted. Now seconds please.


Curried Lentil Stew with Kale, Red Onion and Coconut Milk
Makes 6-8 servings

Ingredients:
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 large red onion, thinly sliced
2 carrots, peeled and diced
3 cloves of fresh garlic, minced
1 purple potato, diced (totally optional but very pretty)
4 teaspoons curry powder
1/3 teaspoon cayenne pepper (or Aleppo pepper if you have it)
5 1/2 cups of broth (I had fresh chicken broth but vegetable would work as well and makes this purely vegetarian)
5.6 oz can of coconut milk (about the size of a can of tomato paste)
1 large bunch or 2 small bunches dinosaur kale, leaves pulled from ribs
1 pound green lentils (about 2 1/4 cups)
1/3 cup bulgur wheat
Sea Salt to taste
6-8 cherry tomatoes, quartered
1 1/2 Tablespoons Greek yogurt
Chile Colonial Crunch (I'd knock it off with the namedropping but I can't think of a generic category that describes the stuff)

Directions:
Heat oil in heavy large saucepan over medium-high heat. Add onion, carrots, potato and garlic; sauté until golden, about 15 minutes. Mix in curry and cayenne. Add broth, kale and coconut milk. Stir to incorporate. Increase heat; bring to boil. Add lentils and bulgur; reduce heat to medium.

Cover; simmer until lentils are tender, stirring twice, about 15 minutes. Add the cherry tomatoes during the final stir. Season to taste. Divide stew among bowls. Top with yogurt and a proper dollop of chile crunch (it's hot, so go easy at first).

Think on Something Really Lovely

Have you ever been paralyzed by the sheer amount you want to say? I have to think that's common but it's unnerving. I talk too much as it is but to literally have week after week of not knowing what to say is so daunting.

The short of it is this: Jaimeson and I parted ways about a month ago. There's a lot that could be said. He is a kind, generous and talented man but years of being apart most of the time took its toll. You can't help but grow in different directions and I know it's the right thing for me. While this has been hard and I still feel like a jerk sometimes, I'm proud of the fact that we were honest with each other and ourselves without a single unkind intention. It is still pretty fresh.

I don't have anything else to say there but that's the gist of it. Rather than linger, I'm leaving you with a set of things from the last few days that have me smiling. It's really and truly beautiful in Chicago right now and I'm off to Lincoln Square for some time in the park with Williamasaurus Rex and Kate, the closest thing I have to an older sister.



The happiest table in my apartment. I found the little tin at the Fremont market in Seattle last weekend and filled it with Santa Maria Novella, my favorite potpourri (which was also, miraculously, found in Fremont at Essenza). The Eiffel Tower is exactly what it looks like. I bought it in Paris when I was 13 which is probably explanation enough.

The orange roses were $6 at Jewel and the concert poster was found for $3 in the back of Una Mae's. The owls- the larger is a print by Emily Leonard and the smaller is a Japanese pencil sketch by way of Pop Pop. I had the pleasure of making a pie for Pop last weekend and that was its very own happy event.

Yesterday, Gina and took a daytrip to Korea. At least that's what we were telling ourselves. Both coming off an exhausting few weeks, we decided we needed an adventure and the fact that it was a 15 minutes drive to Albany Park rather than a 15 hour flight to Seoul did not diminish the experience. A proper bi bim bop lunch at Kang Nam (so so good) followed by a few hours at Paradise Sauna.

Per the sauna, words elude me a bit again but if you are looking to really drop off the map, this is the place to do it. $50 bucks will get you all the steam, heat and hot tub you can handle along with a "scrub" that will leave you polished like a piece of silver. Nevermind that it shares space with a Mexican restaurant. This is not your frilly, fluffy "spa day." Bring your bravery, leave your modesty and sweat it out.


Sunday Breakfast:

• A piece of multigrain toast from Flourish
  
• A thin layer of garlic & herb goat cheese
• Tomato Mountain sun gold tomato preserves
• Assorted cherry tomatoes from my garden and my generous neighbor's
• Leftover honey/thyme pork tenderloin from a dinner party Friday night
• Basil plucked while watering first thing this morning

Some variation of this combination has been my favorite snack since I picked up the sun gold sweetness at the farmers market a few weeks ago. Need to grab another jar for the preserve reserves, thus securing bites of summer in the middle of winter.

When I went out to weed later, Honeycat came to help. If you want to talk about really lovely, you cannot omit the Lady of the Garden from the conversation. She's ready for fall like I am only I don't think she realizes her shady spot under the tomatoes will be relinquished to rows of kale and collards.

Dear Universe,
Thank you for the lovely and all it brought with it.
TKTC

The Goodness and the Go Forth

Sun Wah Saturday

This is a celebration post. Not because anything terribly momentous has happened recently but because I woke up this morning after a great weekend and this whole day has been one little sparkler after the last, lighting up an exceptionally busy day. It's even not just today, it's been the last few days...and weeks. So here's a list of things that have the grins going.

"Now & then it’s good to pause in our pursuit of happiness & just be happy."- Guillaume Apollinaire

1) Music from a part-time city lover. Portland is invading Chicago with aural goodness this week. Tonight the Portland Cello Project is in town, playing a free show at the ever-so-gorgeous Pritzker Pavillion. I've been long convinced that the cello is my spirit instrument. To have it paired with unlikely cover songs and that essentially odd duck persona that develops in the Pacific Northwest... it's more than I could really have thought to hope on.

That's how I'm starting this week but I'll be ending it among an entirely different Portland posse...those Trappers are back. I managed to weasel my way into a basement rehearsal when I was in Portland back in April, listening to a few of the new tracks in the process. Because of that, I can say with superb confidence that if you can catch Blitzen Trapper's Lincoln Hall show on Saturday night or be in the vicinity of the stage for their Lollapalooza show (2pm Budweiser stage), you will not only save yourself a smack of regret but you may be compelled to bake me some zucchini muffins. Or...something.

Forget the muffins, I'll just be glad to see you.

Though if you do have an abundance of zucchini, a warm muffin happens to pair beautifully with Stumptown coffee.

2) Flower power karma corral. I ordered flowers for a friend recovering from surgery this morning. Not 30 minutes later, I got a picture of a beautiful bouquet that another friend had been sent by her crushman. Having picked some up for myself at yesterday's farmer's market, I can attest to the fact that they raise a person's quality life by an exponent of at least 6.5 smiles per day- whether they are a gift for someone else or just you (in this case, me).

3) Swimming on two wheels. I spent the whole weekend on my bike. Not only was it 30 miles of personal tour guidesmanship but it was a hell of a workout. A workout that delivered me to not one, not two, but three separate feasts this weekend and then brought me home lighter than I left. Peking duck at Sun Wah (you need to do this as soon as possible), Brioche French Toast at LM and Green Curry from Silver Spoon (but at Gina's)... and I STILL got on the scale to good news this morning. This bike is a miracle machine. Not only that, but when you ride through shady spots, the breeze feels like swimming through cool currents. Riding that bike is properly lovely and the best part is that it is physically impossible for me to multi-task while doing it.


4) On the town with my girl Friday. Molly McGuff and I, despite our physical proximity, rarely have schedules that totally match up on the weekend. Friday night we discovered that we were both available for dinner and thus we feasted. And in the process of feasting, we had some wine. And that wine told us we should venture into the world and so we did. To Rainbo, to Bar Deville, to nostalgic shots of tequila and a photo booth. That wine is pretty persuasive but tequila is still tequila. Worth it.

5) Delivering the good goods. It's not quite a secret that I've got a little thing for kitchen bits. I manage to keep my hand out of the prodigal "big purchase" cookie jar but man does my cup runneth over with brightly colored spoons and mixed medium bowls. Being that it is wedding season, I have found my favorite gift to give and, of course, felt like I needed one for myself. So I ordered a pair of these lovely French carafe sets from Brooklyn Kitchen (a truly lovely little site) along with a couple other odds and ends (like a large ice cube tray for slow melting in my bourbon, a pie server and some grapefruit bitters). My box arrived but I was one carafe short- an easy mistake because who orders two (ahem...then two more...good gifts are hard to come by)? I shot an email over to the BK folks and was sent the missing set that day with a nice note and fantastically soft t-shirt. Happy happy.

6) Pages and Pages. It's been a great summer for reading. In addition to reading the books everyone seemed to be talking about (The Help, Girl with the Dragon Tattoo), I've polished off The Known World, Eat Memory, several cookbooks and my current (and potentially most beloved), Anthony Bourdain's Kitchen Confidential. Where have I been? I love this book- thanks to Amanda for the reco. If you like food, feeling like you've got the inside scoop and some shameless sex, drugs and rock and roll as translated by a no-nonsense chef, this is your salacious summer read.

At the heels of these final chapters, I've already selected the next: Everything is Going to Be Great by Rachel Shukert. I'd heard some good things but her perspective on the Eat Pray Love phenomenon is what made this a must.

Top Chef Masters...Complete with Resident Master

Went to a Top Chef Masters viewing party tonight, hosted by Tony Mantuano, a contestant and the chef behind one of Chicago's biggest names- Spiaggia. The evening's ticket price? A $20 donation to Share Our Strength. So essentially come watch a local star on TV with him giving the play-by-play, snack on tricked out popcorns and tea cakes, have a glass or two of Prosecco AND give to a great cause.

Truthfully, I've always known Spiaggia was good but it's such an institution that I admit to personally finding it a little intimidating. As of tonight though, it's high on my list of places to try. Chef was playful, honest and a little brash...if that's a reflection on the main menu, I'm in.

On to the soundbites. Mantuano took questions while the team sorted out some early technical difficulties and then during commercials. Formspring for chefs is a big win in my book. I've included a few favorites below:

• Ingredient he most wished he had? A sous chef.
• Best restaurant in Chicago other than his own? Raved about the twice-cooked pork at Lao Sze Chuan. (feel like this is a cop-out answer to avoid offending but color me curious nonetheless)
• Favorite team member ? Susur Lee is terrifying(ly good).
• After hours life on-set? Jonathan Waxman is an incredible person to be in LA with. Every night, those of us who could still walk (those are really long days) took in some of the best restaurants in Los Angeles. Waxman can walk in anywhere and get a table for 6. He was and remains a pioneer of American cuisine.
  

Bourbon Belly: Longman and Eagle

This is a post about wanting. Wanting a sense of newness, wanting whiskey, wanting substance, wanting to do the right thing the right way. Tuesdays are just wanting kind of days.

Which is not to say they can't be grateful days as well. Particularly when all of my wants meet such satisfying ends. Enter Longman & Eagle. Here is a place I'd been wanting to try. Nestled on Kedzie just up a major artery from the heart of Logan Square, the byline for this place reads "Eat Sleep Whiskey." I'll get down to the first and the last shortly but the first thing I remember hearing about this place was that it would be an inn. A proper, rock'n'roll inn where you pick up your key from the barkeep and get a cup of coffee and a shot of whiskey in the morning. That is up the alley of so many favorite people, I run out of fingers and toes to count them on.

My last few months have been glazed by greener grass fixations on places like New York and Nashville. Longman & Eagle reminds me of the famed fleaholes of yore on Manhattan's Lower East Side, only less fleas and coming with spirits knowledge that borders on encyclopedic. The neighborhood applies a little bit of Flatbush, a little bit of East Nash and a lot of Chicago which appears to be the crux of both.

I needed out of my routine for a night and requested Molly for a single but proper cocktail just off the blue line last week. We walked in and sat right down at the bar (my preferred seat so I can stare at the selections). Our bartender introduced himself (Derek) and promptly whisked us away from our good intentions. A cocktail and maybe a nosh we said. We started with whiskey sours (top picture) and the sun set right on top of the glossy foam topper only egg whites can give. It was glorious.

We set in on the menu, laying our top choices out to Derek, who said all of those things were good, but they would be there another time. The Flight of the Pig would not.

I'm familiar with Slagel Family Farms. They sell their wares out of the walk-in at mado (another place high on my to-dine list) and appear at the farmer's markets from time to time. Pigs in general seem to give me pause these days. They are smarter than the dogs I love so dearly and I can't bear the pain they suffer at the hands of a industry sorely in need of reform...and yet I eat pork. The caveat being that I (enthusiastically) eat pork that's been raised with the attention actual farmers give. Farmers like the ones running Slagel, Gunthorpe or Jake's. Makes all the difference (all taste, no tears) and I love supporting restaurants who are of a similar mindset (and usually even better educated on some less traditional cuts- see menu above).

That was an incredible meal in a low-key, unassuming new place. Sitting at the bar in the middle of the week, sharing course after course with my best girl and bantering with a fantastic mix-sir... some courses tasted like candy, some like salted rinds. Black Olive Caramel- who thinks of this stuff? All while sipping on a whiskey sour or a local brew. Toward the end of the night, Derek mixed up what will become Longman & Eagle's answer to a mimosa at brunch- the Seelbach.

It was the perfect note to end on because it secured that I'd be back. As a matter of fact, I'm headed that way shortly. And I won't be left wanting.

Longman & Eagle
2657 North Kedzie Avenue
Chicago, IL 60647-1607

In-Flight Writing Part 2: Nashville

I have a layered relationship with Nashville. Even inclusive of the cowboys and country music the rest of the world knows it for, it always seemed a little more cosmopolitan than Memphis. Maybe most people feel that way about the place they grew up- it couldn't possibly be all that exciting when there was just so much world out there. And, indeed, there was and is a lot of world. I was suddenly 18-19 and spending all my time in Nashville, a visitor immersed in a prestigious private school and the thick, old South gentilities and implied advantages of its students.

And I should probably mention, I was holy crow in love to the point of absolute stupidity. I don't know whether I'm more horrified or sympathized to the way that first time into the depths turns a person inside out. Regardless, it was easy to be charmed by the city enabling it. We ate black bean salads with cucumber dill dressing on my Thursday arrivals at Calypso, shared Steeplechase sandwiches on sunny Saturdays at Bread & Co and nursed Sunday hangovers with chicken fingers at McDougal's.

I tried sushi for the first time at Goten and the fact that it was followed immediately thereafter by sake bomb(s) has not deterred my devotion ever since. I knew that city well and we charmed each other for a few years (until we didn't). Only in that singular state of high altitude hormones can one get so nostalgic about the smell of stale Natural Light.

Which is to say once Nashville inevitably saw the contents of my proverbial heart cracked wide open and fried over easy on the sidewalk, it took me a year or two to go back.

When I did, the city didn't remember me splayed violently in the outline of a great salt lake. It just hugged me heartily and smelled like Dogwood trees and magnolia blooms. And deep-fryers. So I've continued to go back annually and in the last two years I've headed south for a work-related conference (as it turns out "work-related" does not exclude dance parties and the odd glass of wine:).

This made for the second of my winter adventures, split between talking till I was hoarse at the Opryland Hotel and getting to ingratiate a good friend to her new city. JPop, previously mentioned as part of a Monday night dinner tradition, moved shop to Nashville in December. I worked out my slight jealousy by acknowledging that part of me would be loving the city a little more because someone I love was enjoying it in my stead. So clearly we would need to eat well.

Thanks to a spectacular recommendation, we opted into a late reservation at City House Saturday night. East Nashville six years ago (gulp) was not nearly as far along in its gentrification as it is today but I suspect it was well on its way. That being said, it seems like every new restaurant I've heard about since my NashVegas years is somewhere over on the sunrise side of the river that splits the city down the middle. This unassuming cottage in Germantown is why. I think I had one of my favorite meals in the last five years.

I've tried to cut back on taking any photos in restaurants. I never did use a flash but still, unless I can catch it fast with natural light, rarely is it worth the interruption. My hesitation can be found on Flickr but I'll tell you now that the photos don't do the food justice. We sat down at 9:45 after a round of cocktails and tried to narrow it down. The meat is cured in-house. The pasta is made by a guy around the block. Any eggs involved? Laid the previous day. My kind of eating. The gnocchi was some of the best I've had with a crisp bottom and a soft, toothsome middle. The food wasn't overdone. After marsala sorbet and not a small amount of wine, I was giddy in a way that only that feeling of a tremendous find makes you.

We spent a cocktail at Patterson House after dinner at our waiter's recommendation and it proved to be, like his other recos, tremendous. Hey Kris? You made our night. Patterson House, as it turns out, is the Nashvillian sister of the Violet Hour, one of my favorite weekday bar-sits in Chicago. Our barkeep made a smooth whiskeydrink (called Vincent's Demise, I think) and it turned out he'd lived in Chicago before heading south to help open this place. I like it when I find two of my favorite places getting along.

Then we did a little of the above. The above being Broadway on a Saturday night when the audience of any given honkytonk reads like an anthropology dissertation. I'm not sure which part of the evolutionary chain I was representing at this point so let's skip to brunch.

Margot. Another spot on the east side and oh so very worth the venture. By daylight I could further fall for the area with its little bungalows and a big trees. Old houses with tin roofs and all manner of independent eatery.

"I could do this. I could be happy here."

My favorite part of traveling is finding the life I'd be living in any given place. Do you do that, too?

We got inside and wanted everything. And we were, errr, hungry. So we did indeed have everything. Including a scone that made me a believer and the dish you see above. It was too pretty not to snap but don't worry, I got JPop and Becca's choices documented as well. Poached eggs over veal sugo with Fall's Mill grits for breakfast. Game changer.

From there we attended to an issue at hand and bought ourselves boots (see top, I'm the Johnny Cash). I had been telling myself they were impractical for years but buy one get two free sucked us right in. I have to tell you that I've never owned a more comfortable pair of shoes and they look so cute in my doorway...reason enough to do anything.

On my way back to the airport, I stopped into Calypso for a black bean salad. It smelled the same inside as it did then and it tasted just as good. Maybe better.

On Becoming My Own Favorite Kind of Tourist

So I'm pretty sure we've established this but I am a food-ish blogger. Sometimes recipes, sometimes pictures, always things that come back to what makes me hungry to think about. I also work with mostly food clients at a large PR firm. My particular position allows for me to read and work with a lot of food bloggers. It's a dream scenario but also one that requires a bit of a thoughtful approach.

Like, for instance, telling you that the Mushroom Council is a client when I write about mushrooms even though my love for them predates most things, least of which being my tenure at Edelman. I will also tell you sometime soon that Velveeta was my first major project with the company and as it turns out it makes incredible fudge. I have no issues disclosing but I also don't tend to address those projects much around here because that's my work life, I'm proud of it but it's personal. Keeping it separate is simpler most of the time. I don't accept many pitches for the same reason.

Then Chicago Food Planet Food Tours contacted me about taking one of their neighborhood food tours. This one I took. With enthusiasm (squealing glee). A tour about food. Let me check the calendar and charge my camera.

I'm a big fan of Chicago, our eating scene in particular. To Kiss the Cook was lucky enough to get featured in Gaper's Block last week and you can read me going on and on about Chicago restaurants etc there (Be warned, the picture is cheesy and I do not babble less). That was awesome, by the way (thanks, Whitney!). This place is magic and while I may not always live here, I will remember why I did.

Wicker Park has been home for a few years and has won my heart many times over. When i saw that Bucktown/Wicker Park was an option for tours, I decided it would be a test to how well I knew the food in my own backyard. When I found out Brad and Kat (more on Kat later in the week) were coming in from New York for the weekend, I also figured this would be the perfect time to lure them away from Brooklyn in a more permanent sense with especially delicious bait.

This is our tour guide Ben. Ben is the single perkiest person I have ever met. Ever. And I work in PR. Seriously energetic and clearly crazy about his job. The "why" isn't exactly a mystery.

The bait for Brad and Kat began here...George's Hot Dog Stand. I've passed this place dozens of times (on my way to both the Map Room and Coast). Jaimeson was on a plane headed this way and I could hear his voice in my head going "Best restaurants in the city- owned by Greeks!" Hellenism for the win.

He brings people to this a few times a week. This being the classic Chicago dog. A bun with Vienna hot dog, a dill pickle, onion, sweet relish, tomatoes, peppers, celery salt, and mustard. I had not had one in a year. I ate it with gusto. Kat and Brad ate theirs with gusto as well once they established how to get a little bit of everything in each bite. This place has been around for north of 60 years because OPA! that is a hot dog.

Next on our tour was one of my favorite restaurants in Chicago, Hot Chocolate. I think Mindy and Mark are brilliant, find the food understated and their commitment to local ingredients admirable. We each had the "Medium" with molten milk chocolate and a homemade marshmallow. Brad just about wanted to bathe in it. I feel like Kat may not have objected.

Would you object to a significant other bathed in this? (pause for surely PG thoughts)
Didn't think so.

Next up was The Goddess and the Grocer. How you see it above is how I typically do. Delicious but so crowded with pricey strollers that I usually give up and go home to make my own fancy pasta salad.

That said? Their fancy pasta salad is better than I've gotten mine to be. And they have a small, fabulous wine selection. And a lot of very happy looking shelves of bright candies and other goodies. So what I'm really saying as that I'm motivated to try coming in off-peak hours, charm the staff and steal their pasta salad recipe while buying beautifully wrapped chocolates. Pre-gourmet grocer life, the owner was a caterer for touring bands. If they start a show called "Life Swap," I'll be at the open call.

Brad. Ben. Bros.
Off to Piece! New Yorkers. Eating and Enjoying pizza in Chicago. You saw it here first. (alright, maybe not first but notable none the less). We also got samples of the house-brewed beauty known as Golden Arm. The original by Nelson Algren was based in the neighborhood and I pass his house on the way to the farmer's market. Have I mentioned how much I love this neighborhood?
I have? OK, then just look at this pizza.The brewpizzeria is also owned by a member of Cheap Trick. Yes, that Cheap Trick. Surrender.

Now at this point I have members of my party who went from not having eaten anything for 12 odd hours that included cocktails to eating a Chicago dog, a molten chocolate bar, fancy pasta salad, pizza and beer. 1-400 mph in an hour and a half. You may be compelled to starve yourself ahead of your food tour but let this be a cautionary tale- you're better off having a light breakfast because otherwise you may not feel so grand. The last two stops were Sultan's Market and i Cream. We didn't make it. I'm giving my thoughts anyway:

I love Sultan's Market. It's tied for favorite falafel in the city for me (with Semiramis). I took serious advantage of their Groupon a while back and will continue to love them. I have promised Kat and Brad to take them back so they can use their awesome coupons. If I can find them an apartment in one of the gorgeous houses on Hoyne St, they'll be right down the street from hot falafel sandwiches and shwarma whenever they'd like it.

As for i Cream, it's the lovechild of an ice cream man and a chemist. Jaimeson is the resident ice cream lover so it would have been a bummer to do this without him anyway. Now that he's home, we're walking over for a treat so we know what all the buzz is about (it's just up Milwaukee from us).

So the recap: I'm doing this every time I have visitors from now on. They were kind enough to comp me two tickets but we bought another one so we could all go and I would easily pay full price. Between restaurants (they change regularly), Ben stopped and told us about the history of the neighborhood, trends in architecture and pointed out other favorite eateries (have I mentioned how perky he was? That guy is high on life). Which means for around $45 you get three hours of hands of historic Chicago neighborhood touring, six restaurants, the best eating the neighborhood has to offer and a page of coupons for every spot you visit. You can book a Bucktown and Wicker Park Food Tour by clicking here, they are year round.

My friends were in town for a day and a half, we had dinner party plans that evening and I still got to show them four of my favorite restaurants and my neighborhood. Now I want to take Jaimeson next weekend. Then my parents and brother. Then Susie and Chels. And every other food blogger/eater that comes to visit. Also, I want to become a guest docent and help give tours on the weekends.

This is another reason I don't take too many pitches. When I do, I gush.

Behold the Beautiful Bagel

Question I hate: What's your favorite food?

Maybe hate is a strong word but unless we've just met (let's assume that's not the case), you know I can't answer that. I could go on and on in a vain attempt to narrow the list to ten but that's only if "orange food" can count as one.

That being said, I certainly recognize a favorite when I'm confronted with one. The Lox Bagel.


Growing up, they were called "Everything" bagels but I prefer my spot's "Mish Mosh" moniker. Toasted. Then schmeared with freshly made chive cream cheese. Not an insane amount, but I should see no trace of bagel through spread indentations. The spot I refer to was brough to me by way of a foodie New Yorker in residence so you might guess its good.

And I'm telling you that every time I have access to a mobile partner in crime (Jason, CVDJ, Molly) I bring them to a strip mall in Lincolnwood where you can see them making the bagels in the back and it is open 24 hours and is cash only. So now you KNOW it's good.


Lox should be placed on the bagel in a triangle, allowing each bite to have a meaty portion. I don't mess with grocery store lox in its air-stripped packages. I'm sure it can be useful for dips or decor but keep it away from my bagel. I want Nova, I want it fresh and I want it from someone that knows the difference. I'd rather be patient with the few times a year I get it and just savor its perfection.


On top of the lox is one generous slice of tomato per half. Now would also be a good time for a light sprinkle of kosher salt and not a small amount of freshly ground pepper. If you have regular lox, skip the sprinkled kosher. I only add it to balance the tomato and onion in the upper layers and Nova comes from a milder brine.


Wow. Just wow. That is incredible. This tastes like Saturday lunches with my Dad. Dad's side of the family (inclusive of Pop Pop) seems to be wear I get my taste for the Jewish delicacies in general (that's their heritage) but this bagel rises straight to the top.


Seven layers of texture and flavor securing a perennial spot in my top ten list.

Lo and behold I'm compelled to break the Golden Rule and ask...what's in the running for your edible top 10 list?