Stuff to eat. Mostly around St. Louis.
Tail Up Goat
I plan trips around food. For years, I'd scour over menus and reviews before and after picking a restaurant, but I found that going in with all these preconceived notions was ruining the experience. If they didn't have a signature dish, or it wasn't as good as I expected, I was let down. I decided that what I'd do is look for places that showed up on multiple "best of whatever city lists" or places recommended to me by friends/bloggers I trust, and just go. No reading the menu. No reading reviews. Tail Up Goat was my first stop in DC and I knew two things about it: Bon Appetit mentioned it in their Washington D.C.: Restaurant City of the Year article, and the team behind it came from Komi and Little Serow, the latter being one of my favorite restaurants I've ever been to.
Situated at the northern edge of Adams Morgan, Tail Up Goat has an almost beachy vibe, with pale blue walls and warm wood tones. It has a similar vibe to Rose's Luxury—it's comfortable enough to be a casual neighborhood spot, but could easily work for a business dinner or date night spot.
The menu is meant for sharing; the waiter recommended two dishes per person and, for the first time in my life, we three all agree on the same six dishes.
Crispy salt cod fritters nuzzled in a bed of smoked cauliflower puree start the meal off on a high note, taking us back to the trout beignets we had at a gut-busting epic meal at Niche last winter. Following close behind is the cucumber + melon plate, though after a few bites I wish the melon wasn't there at all—the rest of the plate, potato, smoked trout roe, pepitas, and dill, works better without it, in my opinion.
Jill Tyler, one of the owners, told us the bread courses—I'm hesitant to call them toast or bruschetta—couldn't be missed. I've been living off Union Loafers bread for almost a year now, so I consider myself the Jim Lahey of bread eating. I cut into the seaweed sourdough, making sure not to lose any of the pickled mussels, whipped lardo, or sea beans on top, and take a bite: pure gluten bliss. The brown rice bread is an umami bomb with summer squash, yogurt, black garlic, and benne seeds. If I could turn back time, I would just order 3 orders of each of these.
I'd later find out that Tail Up Goat's lasagna is a "must try" dish, but I had no idea at the time of ordering. Instead, we pick the sweet corn ravioli, finished with sungold tomatoes, fresno peppers, and caper breadcrumbs, a summertime dish that's gone in seconds. I appreciate there being a lighter option on the pasta side (which is the main reason we didn't get the goat lasagna).
It's not a Whiskey and Soba family meal if there isn't a mountain of meat at some point. In this case, that mountain is made up of grilled lamb ribs—my favorite fatty cut of lamb when I'm feeling like a glutton. I particularly enjoy them when they're prepared with Middle Eastern flavors, like sumac and dukkah.
I would consider my first foray into somewhat blindly picking a restaurant to be a success, and I'm convinced that by the time I visit D.C. again, this place will be nearly impossible to get into. Get in while you can.
[one_third id="rcp"]
Tail Up Goat
Address
1827 Adams Mill Road NW Washington, DC 20009 202.986.9600 [/one_third]
Kitchen Kulture
I can't recall if it was last winter or the winter before it when I first encountered Kitchen Kulture, but I remember it like it was yesterday: I was at the Tower Grove Winter Farmers Market, contemplating if I should attempt to eat the Rebel Roots caramel apples I had just purchased on my drive home, when I turned and saw their booth. I'd followed them on social media and seen their Sump lunch menus, but I'd never managed to actually eat their food. I wandered over and perused the menu, when chef/co-owner Mike Miller and co-owner Chris Meyer offered me a sample of their Mofu Tofu Saag Paneer. I'm pretty sure my response was something along the lines of, "Why is this so good?" I sampled everything they had to offer and left with pounds and pounds of Kitchen Kulture food. Soba noodle salad, Khao Soi curry, vinaigrettes, whatever. If they were selling it, I was buying it. Weekly Kitchen Kulture purchases became part of my life.
Flash forward to summer of 2016, and Kitchen Kulture (the restaurant is known as Kounter Kulture) has moved into the former Pint Size Bakery shop off Watson. You can still find them at the weekly TG Farmers Market, of course, but the take-out only restaurant, open Monday-Friday, 4:30-9:30pm, offers a totally different menu of food cooked to order.
If I'm passionate about any type of food, it's Asian food—a cuisine that continues to disappoint here in St. Louis. I've tried to explain it before, but there's this whole wide world of Asian food, ingredients, flavors, cooking techniques, etc. that just aren't being tapped into here. Mike Miller gets it. Seriously, no other chef in St. Louis has been able to grasp modern Asian flavors—particularly Southeast Asian and Japanese—like he has. And he's doing it using locally sourced produce.
On the lighter end of the spectrum, there are dishes like the White Peach and Pepper salad with a creamy miso vinaigrette and crunch coming from a sesame-togarashi brittle that shatters like sugary glass. The seasonal greens spring rolls, packed with rice noodles, cilantro, mint, and mango, come with a carrot-ginger sauce, and remind me of a meal I had just outside of the Angkor Wat temple complex in Cambodia.
A Mofu tofu green curry with summer vegetables and ramen noodles gives Reeds American Table a run for their money as far as authentic curry goes—a pungent curry paste, made from scratch, mixed with coconut milk, fish sauce, and all those other funky Thai flavors delivers a Muay Thai elbow to your tongue.
On the heartier side of the menu, there's a Korean BBQ chicken rice bowl that makes your Chipotle burrito bowl look like it's child-sized. Crunchy, spicy, and sweet, the bulgogi chicken combined with heirloom tomatoes, fresh avocado, and a lime-cilantro dressing doesn't disappoint.
People typically generalize Japanese food as healthy, but believe me, the Japanese love fried food just as much—if not more—than Americans. They just don't eat buckets of it. The ping-pong ball-sized shrimp and pork gyoza tossed in tsume—a sweet, seafoody sauce—are perfect. The braised beef gyudon bowl is equally delicious.
I could write a book on my love of okonomiyaki. These Japanese pancakes are tied with takoyaki (basically grenades made of pancake dough and octopus) for my favorite Japanese food. Kounter Kulture's is kind of like if an okonomiyaki knocked up a Korean jeon pancake. Or maybe a frittata. Possibly a Dutch Baby? It's basically a puffed up egg-based pancake stuffed with your choice of kimchi, bacon, squid, and/or mushrooms, then topped with a sweet bbq sauce and mayo. It will feed you for days.
But their buns...their buns are out of this world. If Kounter Kulture only sold buns, I'd still tell you it's one of my favorite places in St. Louis. Do you go for the pork with smoked onions, chile-mustard sauce, and jalapeno slaw? Or the tofu bun with sesame cabbage, homemade kewpie mayo, and Japanese BBQ sauce? It doesn't matter, as long as you also get the catfish bun.
If I make a "Top 10 Dishes of 2016" list, there's a 95% chance this will be own it. Togarashi-spiced catfish is fried until as crunchy as possible (without overcooking the fish!), then tucked into a bun with a shishito pepper and cherry tomato remoulade. This is one of those bites where if you don't like it, you're wrong.
Scenes from Companion Bakery
Behind the Scenes Companion Baking
West St. Louis Campus St. Louis, Missouri July 2016
Josh Galliano and the Companion team were nice enough to let me spend the day with them on the bakery floor at their new (41,000 square foot!) West St. Louis Campus. Being in a room full of breads baking non-stop had me so hungry—I think I ate an entire baguette on my drive home. Oh, and I didn't even steal any of the pretzel baguettes/rolls/buns/sticks when no one was looking, even though the temptation was STRONG. I just love those damn pretzels so much.
Take a look at what it takes to make a lot of bread at Companion St. Lous:
The West St. Louis Campus is also home to another Companion Cafe, so if you live or work nearby, you're in luck! They offer a full selection of their breads, pastries, and lunch items (great sandwiches and salads), plus the occasional speciality item from a test run the bakery. One of the coolest parts of that cafe is that nearly half the walls are actually glass, looking straight onto the production floor—you can watch them mix, proof, shape, and bake. I like to stand outside the window with a pad of paper and pretend to be grading them.
If you enjoy cooking classes, you should check out their Companion Teaching Kitchen schedule here. I took the pretzel making class with longtime Companion Price Barrett, and not only did I leave with like 30 pretzels (poorly shaped, ugly pretzels...but still, pretzels!), but I'm now pretty sure I could open my own pretzel store. I won't, because it's time consuming, I'm lazy, and Companion's already nailing them, but I could! Look for classes with Companion's founder, Josh Allen, and chefs Cassy Vires and Josh Galliano.
Byrd & Barrel Nugz & Tots
Many moons ago, I wrote about Byrd & Barrel. And, since the time of publishing, I've returned a number of times. Unexplainably, it wasn't until three weeks ago that I finally decided that I should try the chicken 'nugz'. Even though the staff, friends, and other reviews specifically lauded the buttermilk fried nugz, I did not heed their guidance. I was foolish. I've been back to Byrd three times in the last three weeks and had the nugz each time. You order them in sets of 5, and for me, 5 was plenty. You can choose between dark and white meat, and I'm pretty sure the dark meat are just deboned chicken thighs—meaning each nug is significantly larger than the nuggets you're probably familiar with.
It's hard to make any sort of fried chicken dish that I don't like, but I think it's fair to say that my relationship with these nugz is more than platonic. I have a crush on them. They're just so damn alluring. That crunchy, heavily seasoned exterior...the juicy chicken inside...their formidable size. I'm not sure you can ask for more in a chicken nugget. On the boneless fried chicken front, these slide up just behind the Sportman's Park chicken strips for me (which will likely never be topped due to nostalgia, if I'm honest).
This is probably blasphemous, but I was never into tater tots, nor hashbrowns (and no latkes, either!). Onion rings and French fries were more my speed. These spiced tots are something, though. I wouldn't have even gotten them if I wasn't pressured into it by the server, and thank god for her. They're spiced with what tasted like a hotter version of the nugz rub, and served with a cooling house ranch dressing.
My recommendation: get the sweet chili honey or the BBQ sauce. Both have a mild sweetness to them that balances out the spice. Or, if you're feeling fatty, get the provel cheese whiz.
Taste
Hello Wildcats! It's been too long since I've written about Taste, Gerard Craft's CWE bar. A lot has changed since my first post: Matt Daughaday departed to open Reeds American Table, Heather Stone took over as executive chef, and my buddy Russ became the sous chef. What hasn't changed: the food and drinks are still top notch.
We came in on the Monday following one of their Tiki nights—FOMO was in full effect. I was sad I missed all the festive tiki food and drink, but the bartenders wanted to turn that frown upside down. Two tropical(ish) drinks arrived at the table, their names since forgotten [edit: Poison Cup/Lucy in Bolivia], and down the hatch they went. Two thumbs up.
Feeling guilty about not visiting Heather and Russ sooner, I ordered...well, way too much food, but that's pretty much par for the course these days. The fried cheese curds with jalapeno aioli hit the table first and damn, they were good. You might be thinking, "they're just fried cheese curds..." but believe me: I've had some truly heinous curds at restaurants in town lately.
To counteract the fried cheese dipped in mayo, I got the tomatoes and charred corn dish, pretending that I didn't see that it also had pancetta and buttermilk dressing on it. In my head, it was healthy.
I would consider Heather's beet ravioli a new Taste classic. Sliced and blanched beets are filled with an asparagus ricotta, garnished with toasted pistachios, golden beet puree, orange zest, and finished with a white balsamic gastrique. It's beautiful in every way.
Broccoli salad with bacon, roasted grapes, shiitakes, and pine nuts finished up the last of the 'healthy' dishes—vegetables are still healthy, even when they're paired with bacon/buttermilk/ricotta!
The rest of the mains were specials from the tiki night, though I wouldn't be surprised to see them end up on the regular menu. The jerk chicken was as juicy and flavorful as chicken gets, but the almost-Filipino pork belly dish was another standout: ultra tender belly, cantaloupe, and a sweet, funky sauce.
Lamb sweetbreads buffalo-style finished things off, and even being as full as I was, I crushed this dish. If they were on the regular menu, I'd get them every time.
Dessert was the Taste classic: churros with a velvet almond panna cotta. Solid, as expected. The other dessert, a goat cheesecake, was my favorite of the two. The tangy goat cheese paired with the bright lemon zest and sugar-coated blueberries gets two thumbs up from this guy.
I expect great meals from Craft's crew, and it seems like every time they deliver. Taste is just a fantastic restaurant, plain and simple, and I'm glad to see Chef Stone making it her own.
Union Loafers Pizza Night
There are a lot of things to love about Union Loafers: its bread, its lunch options, its modern-yet-classic decor, its proximity to La Patisserie Chouquette, and the adorable duo of Ted Wilson and Brian Lagerstrom (aka BMan). What I love the most is pizza night. One day, in a better world, Loafers pizza night will be every night, but for now, it's just Wednesdays. And how glorious those Wednesdays are. At 6pm, the doors fly open and the tables fill. If you're not there right at 6, whip out your phone and get in line on NoWait—because you're definitely going to be waiting. Besides pizza, your only option is alcohol and an Italian salad, which I would consider a must-order. Brian's the salad and soup whisperer, and this one—chock full of garbanzo beans, fennel, olives, and pickled peppers—proves it.
You have a choice of 5 pizzas, with prices for the classic Classic (tomato, mozz, basil) starting at $17 and running up to $25 for their spinach, garlic, lemon, bacon, and mozz pizza. Whoa, that's expensive! you're thinking to yourself right now. No, you are wrong. These pizzas are 16"+ (the same size as a Domino's/Imo's x-large) and can easily feed 2-3 people each. The first time I went, I got a single pizza for myself and ate it for almost 3 days.
Ted and BMan let me hang out during pizza night prep so I could watch the magic happen. Ted is camera shy, or possibly is in witness protection, so BMan was my focus—though that shouldn't much of a surprise, since Lagerstrom is Swedish for 'sex appeal'.
Come, let's see them in action:
After getting prep completed, BMan takes a break to listen to music, check out Instagram, and prepare his body for a three-hour pizza onslaught with a can of Perrier. This post is not sponsored by Perrier, but I wish it was. Perrier—call me.
Ted prepares the first pizza to go out. All is calm and quiet as the master gets to work. He steps back, approves of his work, and puts it in the oven. What comes out looks and smells like a pizza dream. I try to steal a piece, but Ted slaps it away with his strong, manly hands.
The crew.
Oh, and if you're going for lunch any time soon, make sure to get the chicken and rice soup and/or the rare roast beef sandwich with pickled peppers, gruyere and 'bistro sauce'.
I feel like you readers should send me cash for improving your lives so much.
Scenes from Sidney Street Cafe
Behind the Scenes Sidney Street Cafe
St. Louis, Missouri June 2016
Schlafly Farmers Market
Too lazy to wake up in time to get to the Tower Grove Farmers Market before everything's been bought? Me too. Lucky for us, there's another option: Schlafly Bottleworks' Wednesday afternoon Farmers Market. With upwards of 40 vendors (some of my favorites include Baetje Farms, Ozark Forest Mushrooms, and Biver Farms), it's a large affair, full of all sorts of goodies. The Schlafly team arranged a special media day visit plus dinner a few weeks back, which also happened to be a day where it was hot as Hades outside. Smart thinking: dehydrate us to make the beer even more delicious.
We all wandered around, taking in the options—fruit (including white raspberries, which I didn't know existed), cheese, beautiful veggies, more cheese—then stopped by The Tamale Man's tent for a glass of Agua Fresca. If you haven't had Tamale Man's tamales or ice cold agua fresca, make sure you remedy that.
Nothing gets the appetite going like shopping. The Tower Grove market has Kitchen Kulture's confusingly amazing egg sandwich, but Schlafly has a whole restaurant. Who doesn't love shopping local then eating and drinking local?
Before heading inside, we took a walk through their enormous garden, helping to supplement the restaurant's local-focus. If you recall my interview with KT Ayers from earlier this year, you'll catch more insight into that.
Another reason to stick around for dinner is Ayers' new Farmers Menu, a set of specials where all ingredients come from a 100-mile radius of the restaurant. On our visit, we got a big ol' tomato caprese plate, lamb kebabs, a veggie sauté, and, my personal favorite, the burger. Any burger topped with local goat cheese and crispy bacon will get a thumbs up from me. The dessert, a goats cheese cheesecake, was a great way to finish out the meal—and that's coming from someone who thinks most cheesecakes are gross.
The most important part of our dinner wasn't the food or farmers though. No, it was the St. Louis-exclusive Expo IPA. Eight hop varieties, three continents. I'm admittedly not a big hop-head, but what brewers have created is well balanced enough that I was able to enjoy a bottle or six. You can get it on draught or in six packs at either of Schlafly's locations.
Summary: you should spend your next free Wednesday afternoon shopping local at the Schlafly Farmers Market, then go inside and fill yourself with their farmers menu (or regular) dishes and beer.
Bolyard's Smoke Out & Roasted Chicken
Think of this less as a "Dish of the Day" and more as a P.S.A. to improve your life. You already know that Bolyard's makes some of my favorite sandwiches in St. Louis. You know they've got some of the best meat in town. But did you know that they have both a weekly Smoke Out and a roasted chicken night?
The Smoke Out takes place every Thursday—early in the morning, they send out the email of what's for sale that day, and then you have approximately 30 seconds to call. Seriously, it's like getting tickets on Ticketmaster. You blink and you're shit out of luck. The meat is just that good. I can't get enough of the chicken rubbed with their bacon cure, but their huge pork steaks and brisket shouldn't be missed.
I've started buying the meat—whatever I can get my hands on—and shredding it, then using it in tacos and rice bowls. Those guys somehow manage to get their meat so much juicier than what I'm able to produce at home. Thanks for making me feel so inadequate, Bolyard's crew.
Just look at that tray of meat and tell me you're not hungry instantly (and if you do go into the shop, make sure to compliment Jon Todd on his fox tattoo and vascular arms. He's been trying to put on mass).
Tuesday nights are oven roasted chicken nights. Don't even go into the shop after 1PM on Tuesdays. It just smells too good, the whole shop perfumed by the wonderful smell of chicken fat.
It's hard to properly express the crispy skin of roasted chicken through photos, but I assure you that if you tapped on the chicken below, the undeniable sound of crackly skin would ring out. Once again, your best bet is to call in the morning and reserve your bird.
Living Room Coffee & Kitchen
For a guy who talks a lot about not going to restaurants for breakfast/brunch, I sure am posting a lot about breakfast these days. I'm in Maplewood regularly these days, and yet, somehow, I hadn't been to Living Room. I met the owner, Nate Larson, a year ago at a Bolyard's Burger Battle, and was all, "Yeah, I'll come in next week!" But I forgot. And I just kept not going—then it got to a point where I felt like I'd not gone for so long that I couldn't go. Like I'd walk in and Nate would ask what took me so long and I'd try to come up with an excuse and it'd just get too weird. Neurotic like Larry David.
Troika Brodsky, my former camp counselor and current head of the St. Louis Brewer's Guild, changed all that when he invited me there for coffee. It's all been downhill since then—in the past 3 weeks, I've basically moved Whiskey & Soba into Living Room.
There are two reasons I've found myself enjoying Living Room more than a lot of the other coffee shops in town:
1. The food & drinks are above average.
2. It's totally unpretentious. Whether I'm working or just meeting someone for coffee, the staff are friendly, it's never overcrowded, the music is at the right volume, and it just feels homey. Like you're in someone's...Living Room?
Let's talk about some of my favorite stuff so far, beginning with the sproda. It's espresso and Fitz's root beer. I posted this on Instagram thinking this was an uncommon sight, but apparently coffee shops across the country make'em. I'm into it. The sweet vanilla flavor of the root beer combined with the slightly chocolatey and bitter espresso ends up tasting like a pretty delicious iced coffee, sans milk.
The Dirty Chai uses locally produced Retrailer Tea chai, and it comes in an almost comically large mug. I also got the chance to try a tester of their upcoming espresso and fermented ginger beer drink (no creative name yet), and that is like drinking a lightning bolt. Seriously, you will wake up once you down this. I shared one with Sherrie from With Food and Love—she agreed.
Food wise, everything is made in house, with a menu ranging from pastries to breakfast plates to sandwiches. Don't get the cheesy scone. You're going to regret it. It's about the size of a baseball and it seems to be made out of flour, butter, cheddar, more butter and parmesan. You will inhale it. It's a gourmet Red Lobster cheddar biscuit. You're going to want more than one.
For the Jews out there, if they have their macaroons (not to be confused with macarons), get one. They're just like the ones you eat around Passover that come in a cardboard tube, except they don't taste like a cardboard tube. They taste like coconut and sweetened condensed milk.
I keep bouncing back and forth between two sandwiches: the Workday sandwich—soft boiled egg topped with some very tasty peppered bacon, white cheddar, and dressed greens, all smushed in a soft baguette, and the smoked egg sandwich. Medium boiled eggs are smoked next door at Bolyard's, then topped with pickled red onion, gruyere, roasted garlic aioli, dijon, and arugula on a slightly sweet focaccia. Maybe one day I'll convince Nate to put the smoked eggs on the Workday sandwich, and then I'll find true inner peace.
The last recommendation I have: get some Bitt's Cold Press bottles to go. I don't know what Nate and his crew do to get such a rich and chocolatey flavor, but it helps get my engine running when I wake up.
Nachomama's Queso
I once asked a man, "what is best in life?" He responded, "To crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and to eat their queso."
My days of crushing enemies are long behind me, but I will be a devout queso eater until the day I die (as if you couldn't tell from my nachoseries). A fair amount of restaurants in St. Louis serve queso, but only a few stand out to me. I think the Tilford's have a great one at Mission Taco Joint & Milagro, and the queso on Publico's arepa platter disappears as quickly as it arrives, but none have tickled me quite like Nachomama's.
Nachomama's is one of those places that isn't going to blow you away with their TexMex fare, though, to be fair, I don't think there are many places out there that will. It's good, though. A great place to go for a casual dinner with friends, especially when the weather is nice. Grab yourself a margarita, pick out your favorite TexMex fare, and be thankful that you're not stuck eating Chipotle or Crazy Bowls & Wraps again for the umpteenth time.
Their queso isn't complicated—it's a pretty standard take on queso blanco. Cheese, milk, light seasoning, and what look like some chopped jalapenos and tomatoes. It's mild, but perfectly mild. It pairs wonderfully with their salty tortilla chips (which you have to get a large order of, if only to have your food come in a flower pot). But the real joy comes from pouring the queso over everything else.
Tacos? Yep. Nachos? Extra cheese. Sometimes I'll even dip a quesadilla in it, which is a sure sign that I know what I'm doing, and that I'm fat.
Two other things to know about Nachomama's: their guacamole is very good, and their rotisserie chicken is actually the best thing on the menu. It's always juicy, and it's got a really nice spice to it. If you haven't tried it, you should. Right away. Go.
Sugo's Lasagna
Here's something you might not know about Qui Tran (Mai Lee, Nudo): the guy is obsessed with Italian-American food. I'm a Jewish guy who finds comfort in a big bowl of bun bo hue and he's a Vietnamese guy who will talk to you about veal saltimbocca for hours if you let him. If you've followed me for awhile, you know I'm not a big Italian-American food fan. I think The Hill has far more misses than hits these days and wince every time I hear people recommending visitors go there. So, aside from Randolfi's and a few select restaurants, all my Italian picks come from Qui.
The other day he called me up and the conversation went something like:
Me: Hello?
Qui: Sugo's lasagna! That's what you gotta get next. It's freaking huge!
Me: Ok. I'll do it.
Lasagna and I have never gotten along. The only thing I liked about it as kid was when the edges would turn into crispy burnt cheese chips (one of the greatest flavors on Earth, I would argue). Besides that, I wasn't interested. Until last week, it had been probably a decade since I ordered lasagna. I had to do as Qui said. I needed to try this lasagna.
For $11, you get a brick of lasagna. It's a Rob Gronkowski sized portion, a 'slice' so large that mere mortals have no hopes of finishing. Michael Del Pietro, the chef and owner behind Sugo's, Babbo's, Tavolo V, and Via Vino, told me this is his grandmother's recipe that's been passed down for generations. I believe him.
There were two things I really enjoyed about this: it is well balanced and it's got a layer of burnt, crunchy cheese. The lasagnas of my youth were anything but balanced, tasting more like jars of marinara poured over dried out ground meat, pummeled with dried oregano. Sugo's does a nice job balancing the sweetness of fresh tomatoes and fresh tomato sauce with layers of ricotta, parmesan, Italian sausage, and ground beef. And, somehow, it doesn't seem so overwhelmingly heavy, even with those ingredients. Magic.
Sitting in the restaurant, eating this on a rainy spring day, I got the appeal. It's a comfort food. It tastes like something your mom or grandma might have made you, all the while pushing you to keep eating because you're a growing boy.
The best part of this lasagna came the day after. I took my leftovers and broiled them until they became a bubbly, burnt, crispy messy. It's like a bonus round of lasagna.
West County folks—if you haven't made your way over to Sugo's for a meal fit for The Mountain, you should remedy that.
Sidney Street Cafe: May 2016 Tasting Menu
Never have I ever...gotten the tasting menu option at Sidney Street Cafe. I am a control freak. I like to pick my food. Most restaurants have set tasting menus where you pick between two options for each course, or it's prewritten so you know what you're getting (Niche, for example, has both prix fixe and a chef's tasting). Sidney Street only offers a chef's choice tasting menu—you don't know what you're getting. Each course is a surprise, and no one gets the same thing. Share (or don't)! Try new things. You're in their hands and they're going to make sure you leave happy. It's sort of like that special massage place you went to in Thailand. Here's a look at my experience with May's tasting menu (5 courses per person x 3 of us = 15 dishes. I did not get all of these).
I've always believed that bread service at a restaurant should be something special or nothing at all. Chef Kevin Nashan obviously agrees, because their fry bread/beignets are out of this world good. Try limiting yourself to just one. You will fail.
All tasting menus start with the crudo—May's is a kombu-cured fluke (a Japanese preparation that turns the mild fish into an umami bomb) with blistered peas, pickled green strawberries, and, as odd it may sound, a white chocolate vinaigrette. The vin is more of a buttery, sweet, umami kick than biting into a bar of white chocolate.
The second round of courses includes a Spring Gnudi, complete with ramp pesto, melted leeks, egg yolk confit, lemon curd, and grilled ramp leaves. This dish confirms what I had long believed: ramps are the sexiest of the allium genus.
A plate of foie gras torchon with tandoori spiced apple, buttermilk borscht, and beet sorbet takes ingredients I normally associate with winter and heavy eating and turned it into a delicate plate appropriate for spring. Beautiful minimalist plating.
Buttery soft octopus over posole with salsa verde, Swiss chard chips, and little peppers whose name I can't remember remains a star on the menu.
Round 3 is seafood. I'm not given a taste of the smoked shrimp spring roll—rude, selfish tablemates—but previous versions of it were excellent.
The halibut plate has become Sidney Street's Spencer buzzword dish—even if the main protein was raccoon, I'd still order it thanks to uni bisque (I'm already sold), clams, squid ink, and crab. I take a few bites and realize I don't even need all the components: just give me that perfectly cooked, buttery halibut topped in that uni sauce and I will be happy. This is going into my epicurean spank bank.
Sidney Street has introduced me to many ingredients, and it was here that I fell in love with scallops close to a decade ago. Since then, I've lost interest. My love has faded. Rarely does a scallop seduce me. Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in...with creamed English peas, a mushroom conserva, morels galore, glazed pearl onions, and a miso jus. Yet another dish that tastes like Japan in Missouri in Spring (perhaps Nashan can open a restaurant with that theme and call it ミズーリ).A small intermezzo of blueberry mint sorbet arrives and we're off to the entree races. My plate is the rabbit porchetta, stuffed with rabbit merguez and wrapped in bacon, set over a bed of garbanzo bean ragout, morels, smoked kidneys, and a buttermilk broth. If you haven't had rabbit before, Sidney is the place to do it. It's almost like chicken...but better.
The squab & dumplings and beef cheek have been updated with the season and remain solid choices. The confit and grilled squab, accompanied by drop biscuits, citrus braised endives, and a lemongrass veloute is the most rustic of the dishes, and my least favorite of the three. I've never been much of a fan of traditional "chicken & dumplings", and found the dumpling bowl to be a little heavy and muted, especially compared to the other dishes.
If you're not doing the tasting and absolutely must eat beef, go for the cheeks instead of the steak. Pull apart tender meat over a fermented potato pancake with bone marrow vinaigrette. *Drops the mic*
I can't believe I used to be some loser who never ordered dessert. I shudder to think of all the sugar I've missed out on. The classic "Snicker Bar" and Carrot Cake haven't changed, which I won't whine about, because both are so goddamn good. The fact that I can eat the carrot cake over and over and be blown away each time should indicate just how good it is. The Zuggernaut is one helluva chef.
I hope I one day meet a woman who can satisfy me like that cake.
There's a new challenger to the Iron Throne of desserts though, it seems. As the server places a plate in front of me that looked like The Shire from Lord of the Rings, two things strike me: I am a loser for thinking of The Shire instantaneously and I am about to be eating matcha, aka green tea, aka one of my favorite things. All together, it has a black sesame butter cream, white chocolate matcha crumb, rhubarb compote, black sesame ice cream, matcha microwave cake, pickled rhubarb, and a matcha meringue.
It, like the rest of the meal, is glorious. After years of avoiding the tasting menu, that's what I'm doing from now on.
Bolyard's Burger Battle: III
Another Bolyard's Burger Battle has come to pass, and we've got another one just ahead of us. On Saturday, May 14th, Jeff Friesen (Sugarfire) will compete against Alex Cupp (upcoming restaurant The Stellar Hog). Here are five reasons you need to go, using last month's battle of Michael Petres (Porano Pasta) against Michael Miller (Kitchen Kulture).
1. Meet the Chefs
Chefs are cool. They're like rock stars—they stay up later than you, they're covered in tattoos, they do a job you think you'd love (but in truth you couldn't handle), and the men tend to have beards. Usually, they're tucked away in kitchens, working their asses off to make sure you have an enjoyable evening. Now's your chance to say hi and tell them you love their food. If you really want to get in good with them, bring some Busch beer.
2.Tallow Be Thy Name
Tallow makes everything taste better. But why wouldn't it? It is rendered beef fat, after all. Bolyard's doesn't let anything go to waste. A toasted, buttery bun is always delicious, but when it's crisped up in tallow, it goes beyond that. And don't forget about Chris Bolyard's tallow fries, which may be the greatest fries known to man. This is how McDonald's used to do it.
3.Cooking Becomes a Spectator Sport
Every burger battle ticket comes with beer—the option changes for each event—which means you can dive into a nice, cool brewski while watching your favorite chefs sweat, swear, and attempt to cook something like 80 burger patties each. It's more exciting than going to a Cardinal's game. 4. Celebrate the Cow
The obvious star of the battle is the burger. Each adorable patty is made using Bolyard's top-notch beef, then creatively topped by the dueling chefs. Petres topped his "Smoky Mountain Magic" burger with a scoop of pimento cheese, a golden chow chow, psychedelic mushrooms and hickory smoked bacon. Miller's "Gaucho" burger came with a smoked chili and onion remoulade, Mahon cheese, spicy greens, and a ramp & cucumber chimichurri. Bold flavors from both chefs.
By the end of the battle, you've had two burgers and enough tallow to keep you warm through winter. You feel all beefed out. There's only one solution to that: go to the Ices Plain & Fancy booth and get yourself some ice cream! Yes, friends, it truly is a culinary wonderland celebrating all things cow-related. 5. Pick a Winner
Once the dust has settled, fill out a card and vote. You get to decide who goes home with the Golden Pig Skull! I know, the power is invigorating. Treat it like a real election—you can vote with your heart, vote based on which chef's restaurant you like more, or even try to solicit a bribe. It's just like real life!
Chef Miller won by 11 votes at this last battle. Make sure to congratulate him at the next Tower Grove Farmers Market (and do NOT miss out on the Kitchen Kulture breakfast sandwich).
You can buy tickets to the Burger Battle on the Bolyard's site here, or you can get them at the door if you're too lazy to get your wallet. I'll be there, camera in hand. Come say hi!
Chouquette's Canelé
You're looking at that picture and thinking about canelés, thinking to yourself that this post seems familiar. It should. Since I started Whiskey And Soba, I have pushed hard for you to go try La Patisserie Chouquette's canelés and I see no reason to stop pushing now. For over two years, these have remained my favorite French pastry in a shop full of remarkable French pastries. But why? you wonder to yourself. How could this oversized thimble be his favorite in a shop full of cakes and eclairs and macarons?
The exterior, crunchy, caramelized—but not burnt—thanks to the beeswax brushed copper molds Chouquette uses. Cracked open, they're a pale yellow, the filling soft and custardy. Slightly sweet, with hints of rum and vanilla. Or, on occasion, lemon and thyme. They're basically tiny cakes made of crepe batter (though I'm sure the French would take exception with that statement).
So many pastries scream their flavors; there's no ignoring the butter of a croissant or the black sesame filling of a Paris-Brest. The canelé is the subtle, seductive mistress of Bordeaux. Perhaps that's why I like them so much—I don't have much of a sweet tooth. The only dessert I have ever truly loved, I think, is tiramisu. Yet I cannot go into Chouquette without getting one of these. In an ideal world, I would eat one of these every day with my breakfast, but unfortunately, I don't live close enough to do that.
The next time I leave Union Loafers and walk over to Chouquette, I better not see any canelés left. I am requiring that you buy one with every purchase you make there—you should leave with a Darkness in one hand and a canelé in the other.
You can thank me in the comments below when you see how right I am.
St. Louis Kolache
There are few things more shameful than knowing less than a Texan. About two years ago, a Texan coworker came into work with the ubiquitous white cardboard box that every donut and bagel shop uses and gleefully announced, "KOLACHE TIME!" I didn't know what that meant, but like a dog who sees his bowl, I ran for it. I tore the box top open, and inside I saw what appeared to be baseball-sized Hawaiian rolls.
Under normal circumstances, I'd have asked what I was about to eat, but office snacks go fast and there's no time for questions. I tore into it to find it loaded with scrambled eggs and bacon. Quite peculiar, but also delicious.
I had to quickly Google all the details about kolache so the two Texans in my area couldn't outsmart me. I already got made fun of for being the 'food nerd'. Summarizing Wikipedia: a kolach is a Czech pastry made with a semisweet dough that is either filled or flattened and topped. Minnesota and Texas are both big kolache states.
Kolache Factory, a Houston chain, was far enough from my house that I never went on my own—I just relied on my coworker to bring them to me. But then the locally owned St. Louis Kolache opened right around Olive and Lindbergh, closer to where I worked and lived. Dangerous.
I've visited both multiple times at all different times of the day. To be honest, I don't see a huge difference in quality or taste between the two—I'm not sure that I could tell them apart in a blind taste test. St. Louis Kolache does seem to have more options, though, with something like 37 flavors offered daily.
About half of them are breakfast-focused, which makes sense, with the store opening at 6am and closing at 2pm. Sweet options include cherry with toasted almond, apricot, and blueberry, while the savory side has about a million different egg variations. The sausage, egg, and cheese is my go-to, though I hear the sausage and gravy is just delightful.
Lunch options include riffs on most of your classic sandwiches, like Philly cheesesteak, bacon cheeseburger, and pulled pork. Vegetarian options are available, too. The STL Kolache crew are constantly working on new specials and menu additions—their "gooey butter of the month" has been solid every time I've had it (though how could gooey butter inside what is essentially Hawaiian bread be bad?) and I will admit to devouring a s'mores or two.
The one thing to note about kolache, no matter the location, is that the dough is quick to dry out. They don't have a long shelf life. If you're eating in, make sure to ask them to heat it up, and if you're eating them back home, a quick trip to the microwave is imperative.
A healthy breakfast option these are not, but they do provide a break from the monotony of bagels and donuts (which aren't exactly pillars of health, anyway). If you haven't gotten your hands on one of these yet, send your new intern out to pick up a dozen. Or, if you are the new intern, bring in a box to earn brownie points with the big boss. Don't eat too many though, or you'll find yourself napping at your desk. I've been there.
Mai Lee's Bun Bo Hue
For some time now, I have been attempting to do the impossible: eat every single item on Mai Lee's menu. That's 202 menu items, plus the Chinese menu. I've had a fair amount, but I'm still nowhere near done. At the current pace I'm going, I should finish when I'm 35. I have two favorite dishes at Mai Lee, and the weather dictates which I'm ordering any given day.
Warm days call for the crepes (#54) filled with pork, shrimp, and bean sprouts. Cooler days require a big bowl of #17, bun bo hue (boon bo hway). What is this mysterious soup and why you should stray from your usual bowl of pho? Think of it like this: pho is Vietnamese soup on Rookie mode, bun bo hue is when you turn it up to Pro. The anchovy based bun nuoc leo, #21, is dialed all the way to All Star. I haven't even gotten there yet.
The way I've been getting through the menu is by letting Qui pick for me. A few months back, we were going through the menu and he was naming dishes he was sure I'd tried, and when he said #17, I was all like, "I have not tried that."
And he was all, "What?"
And I was like, "Yeah. No idea what that is."
He disappeared to the kitchen and returned shortly with a bowl that smelled like Christmas (in Southeast Asia). The light beef broth is heavily scented with lemongrass, the smell and taste I equate most with SEA eating, but is complimented by the wintry mix of cinnamon, cloves, and star anise. Oh, and annatto seed and fresh pineapple, as well. Add the fire of chilies and tender slices of meat to that, and you've got yourself one of the finest bowls of soup that you'll ever eat. You've also got a pantry worth of ingredients, liquified.
If you don't eat beef, you can request a chicken version instead. I'm guess Qui's team can even pull together a vegetarian option (but I can't promise anything).
I hate to say it, but I don't think I'll be going back to pho any time soon.
Salt + Smoke's Burnt End T-Ravs
I can understand why other cities haven't welcomed St. Louis favorites like gooey butter cake and Provel cheese with open arms. But there's no good reason that every city in America shouldn't be serving toasted ravioli (a.k.a. t-ravs). For the uninitiated, toasted ravioli are just like your normal ravioli, except they're breaded and fried—no, there's not toasting involved here. We're talking about a Midwestern speciality, after all. The typical t-rav is filled with a nondescript meat, basil, and oregano—basically a meatball. Some are filled with cheese to appease vegetarians.
That's not the case here at The Delmar Loop's Salt + Smoke. No, sir. Salt + Smoke has, over the last 6 or so months, become my go-to for any kind of BBQ meat relating to the cow. Owner Tom Schmidt and his crew have mastered beef. Expect another post later this summer on their brisket, but in the mean time, make a note-to-self: I must go to Salt + Smoke and order the brisket. If they have the option of burnt ends, I must tweet at Spencer so he can come eat them instead of me.
You know what burnt ends are, right? I won't say there's no shame in not knowing. You're an adult. You should know by now. Burnt ends could more appropriately be called Brisket Gold, Diamonds in Le Boeuf, or just the emoji for the crying smiley face. Super fatty chunks of the brisket are cut and smoked extra long, allowing the fat to render out and produce bites of brisket as smoky as Don Draper's office and as crunchy as meat bark can be.
They are my single favorite bite of BBQ.
Salt + Smoke takes their burnt ends, chops them up, then stuffs ravioli with them. These are ravioli that are 15+ hours in the making. It is impossible for them not to taste like heaven. Especially when served with white BBQ sauce—a tangy, even more fattening version of normal BBQ. It's mayo-based and loaded with horseradish and vinegar. It's like ranch 2.0.
To recap: fatty, smoked meat stuffed into pasta, then fried. In a post-apocalyptic world, I would accept these as currency.
Schlafly Stout & Oyster Fest 2016
I remember thinking that frat parties in college would be epic, just like I saw in the movies. Huge, sprawling houses would be full of cold beer, vast quantities of food, and the coolest people. As we all know, that was never the case. I never got to live that dream. Then I went to my first Schlafly Stout & Oyster fest, a wonderland of food and drink! I felt like Harry Potter when he first arrived at Hogwarts, eyes wide and full of amazement at the wonderland before him. I saw men shucking oysters at lightspeed in the outdoor "Shuckerdome"; I saw beer flowing out of a truck; I saw fried oysters being lowered from the 2nd floor by a winch and raw oysters send upstairs via pulley. I was overwhelmed.
A gameplan was formed. I would start in the Shuckerdome, then make my way through the rest of the madness.
I enter the Shuckerdome, a new addition to this orgy of excess, and make my way over to the bar. I order a Grapefruit IPA because it is unseasonably warm, and a Milk Chocolate Stout because this is Stout & Oyster fest. Two beers should last me a while, I think to myself, but then I taste the Milk Chocolate. This tastes just like real milk chocolate! By the time I have walked the 15 feet it is to the oyster line, half my beer is gone. Scrumptious.
Picking which oysters to get is too difficult, so I just decide to get a dozen and take 2 from each place. The East Coast options are Blue Point, Beaver Tail, Chesapeake Wild, and the West Coast options are Penn Cove Select, Sunset Beach, and Dabob Bay. The shuckers, I would come to find out, are some of the most hilarious people I've ever met, and they love nothing more than shucking oysters, eating oysters, and drinking beer. These guys are celebrities—20 of them were flown in just for this event and shucked for 12 straight hours Saturday. I would hate to be their forearms come Sunday.
I find a barrel to eat on and go to town on these oysters. No horseradish, no sauces. Just me, some lemon, a whole mess of oysters, and two beers. The East Coast remain my favorites, with their smaller size and briny flavor. I am saving this Dabob Bay monster for last. I don't know how to handle it—it seems like too much to go in my mouth at once time (that's what she said). It ends up being a two-biter. Like someone else said to me, some of those Dabob monsters looked like a chicken breasts in a military helmet.
Oysters eaten, beer nearly gone, I head into the courtyard of the Tap Room. Here, people are in line to get absolutely huge grilled oysters and mouthwateringly delicious fried oysters. I keep hoping someone will just give me one of their fried ones, but no one offers.
On the opposite side, they're selling souvenir samplers for about an hour before they run out of most beers and switch a commemorative glass of Oyster Stout. I have my doubts about Oyster Stout (made with real oysters), so I do what must be done and drink it. It is surprisingly tasty. To me, it tastes like a normal stout with a salty, briny aftertaste. I approve.
From there, I make my way inside. I stop by the restaurant—it's packed. I peek into the bar—it's packed. So I head upstairs, where a whole mob of people are eating or waiting to eat oysters. The shuckers up here are even funnier than the ones in the Thunderdome Shuckerdome, some with accents so thick I can't understand them. I just nod and smile. They smile and get back to work, ignoring the idiot with a camera.
I ask them how they're getting the oysters upstairs, so they show me: they have a guy out on the fire escape who calls down to another Schlafly employee, who then hooks the requested oysters onto a pulley.
I head back downstairs, ready to leave, when I pass Schlafly celebrity Stephen Hale carrying Imo's boxes for the shuckers. Lucky guys. I try to get Stephen to give me a slice, but he smartly distracts me with more beer. The Double Bean Blonde that he had told me about a few months back is on tap!
I don't know if this or the Milk Chocolate stout was my favorite, but I would happily drink either any day. The Double Bean, made with Ghanian cocoa nibs and Kaldi's roasted coffee beans, smells and tastes like coffee and chocolate, but without the heaviness of a stout. Magic.
I have to applaud the whole Schlafly team and the shuckers for their hard work. From what I saw, the event went off without a hitch, which is tough when you've got a Walking Dead sized horde of drunk, shellfish eating people wandering around. In the end, over 55,000 oysters were sold, the equivalent of 1,050 cases of beer was consumed, and it was the highest attended festival in Schlafly history.
It sounds like next year will be even more epic. Make sure you're there.
I was paid by Schlafly to photograph the event, but not to write this blog post. All opinions are my own.
Classic Red Hots Albasha
I've found a good amount of odd "hidden gem" restaurants in St. Louis, but I think this is the first time that I've found what is literally a hidden restaurant. Or maybe disguised is a better description. Classic Red Hots Albasha isn't invisible like Platform 9 3/4, of course. It's just not clear what you're getting yourself into. Driving past Classic Red Hots, it looks like nothing more than your standard strip mall hot dog shop. The sign over the door just says "Classic Red Hots." The window paint exclaims "corn dogs," "Italian beef," and "Philly steak."
But it's much more than that. Using my eagle vision, I noted a small sign in the top right of the window offering Mediterranean fare, with each dish written in Arabic and English. Most intriguing. I made a mental note to return the next week.
I step inside and my suspicions are confirmed: this restaurant is not just an American sandwich shop, but also a Middle Eastern restaurant. The decor ranges from Vienna Hot Dog billboards to paintings of far off Arab lands. The table patterns are distinctly Arabic, while the wall where you order is tiled with black and white, like a race card rally flag. My mind = blown (and slightly confused).
From what I gather, the restaurant was once simply a Classic Red Hots, serving things like corn dogs, Chicago dogs, and burgers. When the current owners bought it, they kept that aspect and added quick Middle Eastern food as well.
We discuss the menu with the owners at the counter and decide to start with their housemade hummus and kibbeh. The hummus is simple, tasting like when you make it at home, but the kibbeh is different story. Cracking open the crispy dough pocket, the heady smells of Middle Eastern cooking waft up into my face. Beef, richly spiced with cinnamon and allspice (if I'm not mistaken) is mixed with bulgur and packed inside these little crunch bombs. I dip it into the garlic-yoghurt sauce, and I am smitten. This is good!
I move on to the Sambousik, which seems to have the same beef filling, minus the bulgur. If the kibbeh is more like a samosa, this is closer to a Chinese wonton. Both are good, but I prefer the heartier kibbeh.
The deal of the day is clearly the moussaka. For $5.99, you get a gargantuan plate of food. The outer later is made up of fresh tomatoes, herbs, onions, greens. Under that are crispy fried slices of eggplant, which hide a hearty vegetable stew, chock full of more eggplant, onions, garlic, tomato, herbs, and I don't even know what else.
The main lunch dishes come next—one of which is a Chicago style hot dog. It's not something I would normally get, but I figured I might as well see if it was anything special. Nope, pretty much just your standard Chicago dog.
The beef and lamb gyro, on the other hand, was pretty damn good. Just a few weeks back I asked for gyro recommendations and almost all of them were in the city, or at least the eastern part of the county. The gyro gods have shined down upon me! The thing is massive (that's what she said), but more importantly, it's good. The meat is a mix of tender inner cuts and crispy outer slices. The sauce and toppings are all good. I'm enjoying.
The last thing we get is the kefta (kafta) burger—stop judging, a lot of leftovers are coming home with us—which is basically a Middle Eastern spiced burger patty with all your normal burger toppings.
We leave happy and full, amazed at yet another hole-in-the-wall international restaurant on good ol' Olive Blvd.