Food Blog

Some quick food porn.

A sausage sandwich with hot peppers from Gigio’s in Evanston. I really wanted a meatball sandwich, but they were out of meatballs. The fries are generous and very good, and the hot peppers are actually hot, and they are actually peppers, unlike many places who think giardiniera is synonymous with hot peppers.

I hadn’t been there for awhile, but since it’s been around so long I have much experience with this place. Conveniently located close to the train station, and open ’til 1 am everyday but sunday, this place becomes one of the last choices in Evanston when coming home late. Luckily the food is good enough. They advertise a New York style pizza, and it’s as close as I’ve seen to it in Chicagoland. It’s not the real thing, (I’m from the east coast, I know a foldable, oily, chewy crust pizza from the imposters) but it’s a nice antitode to the matzoh thin crusts or the 10 lb, 4″ deep dishes everywhere else. And it’s much closer than Philly’s Best, another Evanston pizza place with an attempt at NY style. (Although Philly’s best has a real stromboli and Tastycakes, two things you won’t find anywhere else in the midwest).

Their website says “Gigio’s Pizzeria in Evanston makes it all from scratch. We butcher the pig, ground the meat, season it to perfection, and prepare it for our pizzas and sandwiches. Our burgers are ground here and prepared into patties on location.” I don’t know if they really butcher the pig, but I do know they’ve been around so long that they own the building they’re in, and they have a huge prep and bakery facility downstairs. They make their own meat and bake their own bread, they don’t bring in parbaked or frozen stuff like half the other italian beef shops in the city. In fact they are a big supplier of bread to north shore places.

Sometimes the service is ridiculously slow, but it’s not fast food. I’ve had inconsistent pizza there, and too many times I’ve wanted something and they didn’t have it (although that’s forgivable late at night). I saw some students coming out of there once exclaiming that they got some extra pizza because it was closing time, but haggling in there doesn’t work. But it’s relatively cheap, the sausage was $3.22 and the fries are $1.61. A slice will cost you $2.13 to $2.30.

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I have a confession to make. One time last year, after a night drinking downtown I did something I hadn’t done in years.

I’m not a complete health food nut or anything, I just hate the idea of wasting a meal on something as generic as McDonalds. I also hate the idea of spending money at a chain when I could eat independent and local.

I think the last thing I got at a McDonalds was one of their steak bagel breakfast things a couple of years ago. Those things make me drool. This year I’ve had Arby’s once, Burger King a few times, KFC a few more times, and my first Quizno’s experience. (Did you know a new Quizno’s opens every 7 hours!).

That one night out was turning late, and I walked past the Super-sized McDonalds formerly known as the Rock ‘n Roll McDonalds and it beckoned me. I had to check it out. It’s 24,000 square feet but it really isn’t as big as it looks on the outside as far as the seating areas, although the kitchen area is huge and there were at least 30 employees roaming around. I ate upstairs where they have some cool tables with wierd lighting effects that waver when you touch them. There’s some designer chairs up there too, but I think they rope them off late at night.

I just had a quarter pounder and some fries. The burger was much better than I remembered, but the fries weren’t. Probably because last time I had them, beef tallow was somewhere in the process.

The gigantic McDonald’s is at 600 N. Clark street in the shlockiest tourist area in Chicago. It’s open 24 hours.

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Catherine Lombardi’s is an Italian place owned by the guys who own Stage Left. Mark and Francis are also known as the Restaurant Guys who do a local radio show available as a postcast. It sounds like one of the best food related podcasts, and I’m surprised I hadn’t heard of it before. They’ve had some excellent guests and discussions. In one of the episodes they discuss kids in restaurants (after this whole controversy) and olive oil. I’ll be listening to their archives for awhile.

As for the Catherine Lombardi’s, it’s probably the most elegant restaurant in New Brunswick now. Extremely comfortable, nicely spread out tables, great big comfy booths, fireplaces and La Chouffe on tap at the bar. (These guys are good at beer, they have several Belgians on tap downstairs in Stage Left). On the tables is a very nice Tuscan style olive oil made in Sicily – Frantoia, which they discuss in the podcast I linked to above.

I had a Spiedini with anchovies, which was good, but noted by a table mate that it was a ‘bit rustic’ with the crusts still on it.

For the entree I had “Cumare, Nancy’s Stuffed Calamari with Red Sauce”.

This was great, perfectly cooked, with a nicely done stuffing. For desert I had a marscapone cheesecake. The lump of marscapone on the side was a nice touch.

I’d definitely want to go back and try some of the others things here, I had a bite of the scallopini, and would want to get some more of that.

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Some food porn from my trip out east:

I had lunch in a nice little place in Princeton – Mediterra. Of course I had to have oysters.

The Fettuccine ai Funghi was very good – Porcini and Exotic Mushroom Ragu, Veal Glace, Truffle Oil.

We also had a very generous appetizer bowl of mussels – Wild Whitewater Mussels “En Padella”, Saffron Sofrito Broth. For desert I had a delicious pumpkin creme brulee.

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I’m on the east coast for the Christmas, and while in NYC, I was fortunate enough to get to go to Nobu 57. If you aren’t familar with Nobu Matsuhisa, from the food world, you might know him better as Mr. Roboto from the Austin Powers movies.

The dark archway is the entrance to Nobu 57.

I was going to write a review the way they want you to feel, the way the experience is supposed to play out, I’m sure invisioned in many a marketing plan and experience design flowchart – you flow throw a set of dark curtains, buffering you from the outside hustle, as the ambient music envelops you and the organic wood bar and river stone greets you to help you decompress – and after you’ve meditated with your sake martini, or Nobu brand beer, amid abalone chandeliers, you ascend the stairs to enter into the space, greeted by the entire staff as they call namatse! to you. Everything is planned and designed to let you feel the zen atmosphere.

But I can’t write that review, since all that calm is broken by the frenzied staff, their attire no doubt designed to exude zen and martial arts, but their racing stripes do nothing but remind one of track suits worn by sadistic aerobic instructors. The staff’s attitude is out to ruin every nuance of the design, since you feel their major goal is the same as Cheesecake Factory employees – get you in and out, and turn as many tables as possible. During the reservation, you’re warned you’ll have to give up the table you reserve at 6, by 8. I arrived early and was told rudely at the almost empty bar, that they reserved the right to move me when reservations came in. I told them I had a reservation upstairs and begged permission to drink one of their 12 dollar beers. The hostess pointed to several couples with shopping bags lounging about and made some comment about walk-ins like them causing huge crowds.

Upstairs, the rushed impression was probably just mine, since I ordered the Omakase or chef’s choice menu, of seven substantial dishes, and the impecible food deserves to arrive on its own time, not mine. The items on the regular menu could certainly be eaten leisurely in two hours.

But if I’m going to pay a hundred dollars for a meal, a dish should NEVER arrive before I’m done with the one I’m eating. And it happened with every course, a staff member either holding my next plate in full, impatient view, feet away, or rushing in to get me to move my current dish aside.

I don’t mean to say this was a horribly rushed production, it was probably just a little off, but in a place where they seem to be designing in so much zen, they should allow you to savor the food.

And the food deserves to be savored. Not getting the Omakase would be to miss out on the treasures of this place. Every dish was perfect, every ingredient deserved its own time.

It starts with a heathy portion of Toro tartare, topped with caviar, and sitting in a pool of wasabi sauce. Toro is taken from the fattest part of the tuna’s belly, and this piece was taken from the best part of that. A Yamamomo japanese mountain berry on the plate cleanses the palate, if you’re quick enough to snatch it off the plate before someone takes it away.

Next is hamachi. This yellowtail doesn’t so much melt in your mouth, as it does open up in a satori glimpse of flavor.

The meal really kicked up the pace at this point and my Kumamoto oysters were rushed in.

Then came the dish that launched a dozen restaurants – black cod with miso. Lacquered with mirin, sake and miso outside, creamy sweet inside, I can see why this dish is so copied. Garnished with a hajikami – or pickled ginger shoot.

Before I get down to the cod’s skin, a sizzling dish of super tender, perfectly rare kobe beef gets shoved in its place. Meat like this doesn’t need its intense marinade but it doesn’t make it any less tasty.

A typical Japanese broth quickly comes in, but with several clams waiting under the surface.

Then the sashimi, tuna, fluke, salmon, mackerel and yellowtail. All perfect.

The meal ends with a warm chocolate fondant cake in a bento box with a scoop of green tea ice cream.

The omakase is the way to go, since you won’t want to miss anything, and to get to try most of the items separately would cost you a bit more – the kobe and the toro are both 30 bucks each.

Just try to get a later reservation, perhaps then they’re not trying desperately to turn your table.

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A Different Pointe of View is perched high up on top of the Tapatio Cliffs Hilton Resort. It takes quite a few switchbacks to get up there but the view is amazing.

You then take an elevator, or spiral staircases up past the wine cellar and an inviting lounge level. It doesn’t look like there’s a bad seat in the house, but I’m sure the outside patio during perfect weather would be the best seat. A sunset reservation would have clinched this place as one of the nicest rooms I’ve ever eaten in.

The menu had many tempting items, along with a tasting menu, and a Chef’s menu. What I really wanted to do was order everything on the appetizer list. It included a foie gras with a black mission fig chocolate ice cream cake with 100 year old Vecchio, a braised Kobe Beef Short rib, a white truffle lobster macaroni and cheese and a deep water New Zealand calamari.

Four (myself included) of our table of seven left the food and wine completely in the hands of the chef, while the rest of the table ordered off the menu. This might be the only time I’ve seen this allowed, as most places like the entire table’s food choreographed together.

I don’t take notes, and there was no copy of the chef’s menu, so my descriptions are slightly incomplete. Sadly, I have no notes on the wines. The sommelier gave excellent introductions into each wine pairing, but all I can note is that each were right on, applying sweetness, richness or even ‘dusty road’ when the food required it.

My photos aren’t very good, just pretend they’re impressionist oil paintings.

Our first item was a carmelized esgargot, with a wine butter sauce. The sort of esgargot that will make even the snail-squeamish ask for more.

Next was a row of sweetbreads. I’m not a gland fan, and wouldn’t order them, but that’s why you let the chef do the choosing, because otherwise I would have missed the rich soft meat.

Next was the soup – a triad of black trumpet mushroom-infused lobster bisque, matsutake musroom broth and creme butternut squash (with some grated beet on top.) To pair that lobster bisque with anything but another 2 bowls of it and a loaf of french bread was a crime. Don’t get me wrong, the mushroom soup was a perfect cleansing broth, and the essence of butternut was perfectly captured in creme (although I missed the fried vanilla bean ice cream added when ordering this from the menu), but these two soups had no reason to be anywhere near something as good as the bisque. I asked how many lobsters had to give their lives for the little bowl,and the waiter replied “about 1 and a half”. He then told us the bisque was one of the reasons he came into work everday since they let him have some. The server described the soups in a face of the clock fashion but we all seemed to go for the bisque first. We should remember that when chefs plate things in order, he usually means us to eat them that way.

Next was a sturgeon on soba noodles, perfectly done.

And last was a pork belly ’sweet potato pie’. Melt-away fat paired with sweet potato worked well, but again, pork belly wouldn’t be a menu choice I’d make. Also, in a chef’s menu like this the dishes and wines are building to a crescendo, and the excellent meal felt like it needed to end on a more substantial note. The addition of a meat along with the fat would have done it.

But of course the meal hadn’t ended, we had a choice of desserts. I had the Chocolate Gingerbread Cake, cranberry citrus creme, sweet pear cocoa gelato. I also had their House Special Cappuccino – espresso, chocolate and steamed milk, laced with seven liquors. I figured after 5 glasses of wine, 7 more liquors couldn’t hurt.

Everyone at the table seemed to get something different, but no one seemed to want to share or trade.

Layered Gianduja Chocolate Gateateaux, Puffed Rice Ganache, Toasted Hazelnut Caramel. We stupidly asked what the DPOV stood for.

I’m not sure, but this might be the roasted chestnut mocha mousse.

The meal was was one of the most enjoyable I’ve had, a combination of the view, the company, the excellent service plus the food. It’s not often I have my tastes challenged with things I don’t regularly order, so it was a culinary education, as was the wine course.

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“Didn’t you eat anything but breakfast?” you ask. I’ll get to some very nice dinners at Wright’s, The Capital Grille, Vincent’s and Different Pointe of View, but I’ll stick with the breakfast, (and gravy) theme.

The Farmhouse was apparently a very popular place for a long time, until a controversial change of ownership sent the regulars boycotting the original location. The original mother and daughter team reopened the Farmhouse in downtown Gilbert AZ. where the place needs several benches and a pad of paper outside the restaurant for the waiting list, even on weekday mornings.

In an area of new strip malls and chains, this place thrives, and it’s obvious why: cheap, big breakfasts which blow away the last two places I just reviewed.

I had the biscuits and sausage gravy (sorry no chicken fried steak here), very tasty with bits of flavorful sausage and fluffy soft biscuits. My home fried potatoes arrived late, but were great. Others at the table had some big ass pancakes, and the special – a pork tenderloin omlette, which, after tasting, I wished I had ordered. But I wasn’t going to give up my biscuits and gravy.

Also on the menu was a biscuits with chip beef gravy, which I had never seen before. I was intrigued since who would serve something like that, unless it was outstanding?

The little story on the back of the menu let us know that the place was getting some good press, including an inclusion in a “top 25 things to do in Phoenix” list.

I’m sure most of the other things on that list included hikes that burn off all that gravy.

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It’s been a long time since I’ve been out west, but that’s where I developed criteria for picking places to eat while on the road. I’ll give credit for most of these ‘rules’ to Dayton Duncan who wrote them in his book Out West, where he followed the Lewis and Clark Trail.

The criteria are things like never go to a place that has cars in the parking lot with out of state license plates, never pick a place with a ‘waitress wanted’ sign in the window, always pick the place with a parking lot full of pickup trucks, always pick the place with a sign advertising ‘homemade pies’ etc.

While in Arizona I drove around by myself, trying to see as much landscape as possible. Way north of Phoenix, I stopped for a sign that said ‘great food, stop here’. I figured that should be a good reason to stop. Unfortunately, Kid Chilleen’s Bad Ass BBQ wasn’t open yet.

So I drove into Black Canyon City, and the city was bristling with activity. All kinds of vehicles like ATVs, 40 year old Mercedes and Horses were carrying people around for their Saturday morning errands. I passed a small cafe ‘The Four B’s’, with a full parking lot of pick-up trucks, and another busy looking cafe – Byler’s Amish Kitchen. I thought about skipping breakfast, but soon convinced myself to turn around.

It had the requisite pick-up trucks in the busy parking lot, and I thought I heard chickens out back. Good signs. I walked into to a very busy Saturday morning’s business. Everyone (except me) knew each other. I was lucky to get a seat. I got a good one, with a view of the birdhouse town outside the window.

I ordered the country fried steaks, and a biscuit. It came with 2 eggs, hash brown potatoes and some apple butter. It was around 6 bucks with coffee. I expected to find this hidden treasure of a restaurant, with food so good everyone came for miles around. But what I got was decent, cheap food. The steak and gravy weren’t very flavorful, almost completely unseasoned, and the biscuit was fluffy, but plain. You could taste the freshness of the eggs though, and the apple butter was amazing, apply-sweet with touches of cinnamon.

Chicken Fried Steak, Byler’s Amish Kitchen, Black Canyon City, AZ

I liked the place and I cleaned my plate, trying to convince myself that cheap, decent, everyday food didn’t need to be great. The little gift shop/cash register by the door had some preserves and jam for sale and I bought some strawberry-rhubarb jam. It wasn’t until I got home that I realized that it was made in the Upper Penisula of Michigan (by the same Bylers that own the Amish Kitchen restaurant.)

The next morning I was confronted with a 16 dollar chicken fried steak on the menu of the Biltmore Grill, inside the Biltmore Hotel. I had to compare it.

Chicken Fried Steak, Biltmore Grill

At three times the price, it didn’t come with hash browns or any apple butter, but the gravy was made from really flavorful sausage, the steak had a tasty, crunchy breading, and the biscuit was fluffy and buttery. It was worth the price, but who’s going to pay 15.95 every day (or every weekend) for breakfast? Especially without that apple butter.

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Sorry to all those who’ve requested to be added to the list, I’ve been ignoring you. But not on purpose, I’m in Phoenix enjoying a Thanksgiving vacation. I’ll have a report in a few days.

Eggs Benedict from the Biltmore Grill.

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I’ve gone past the Sea Ranch Seafood in Evanston (518 Dempster Street, 847-492-8340) a few hundred times without even looking in. I figured it was an expensive high quality fish place that I shouldn’t tempt myself with. I poked in yesterday to look around and grabbed some quick sushi.

It has refrigerated cases with pre-cut and whole sushi-grade fish, a freezer with Japanese frozen packages of dumplings and things, a few shelves of the kinds of dishware, condiments, snacks and candies you’d find in Mitsuwa, and a deli-style sushi counter with six little tables. The pre-packaged stuff looked beautiful, including sizable lumps of uni, hunks of yellowtail and thick octopus arms. The sushi prices are reasonable, and there’s a good variety of the tame to the daring (i.e. uni). I had the spicy eel avocado, and my lunchmate had the Wisconsin Roll (sour cream, smoked salmon). Both were very tasty. While I can’t properly review the place without trying more (especially the raw stuff) everything seemed fresh and they were doing a brisk business, a required sign of a good source of fish.

Spicy Eel Avocado roll.

Wisconsin Roll.

It’s nice to know I have a mini-Mitsuwa right up the street. You never know when I need to run out and get some fresh uni.

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