Stuff to eat. Mostly around St. Louis.

Whiskey and Soba 7/11/19 Whiskey and Soba 7/11/19

Byrd & Barrel: Tacos & T-Ravs

I know a dish is special when I want to go back the next day and get it again.

It doesn’t happen often. Sure, there are tons of really good—great, even—dishes being served day in and day out in St. Louis. But you know the feeling when you eat something special. Something that makes you stop what you’re doing and go, whoa. I don’t want to share this dish. I don’t want to stop eating this. I want to cancel the rest of my order and only eat this until I can’t stand to look at it anymore.

For me, more often than not, I find these kind of dishes are at more casual spots. Mac’s burger. Vista’s Korean Fried Chicken sandwiches. Pastaria’s nduja pizza. Salt + Smoke’s Haley Riley. Even on a tasting menu at one of the best restaurants, I don’t feel like you’re likely to find many dishes that have that “craveability” you’re looking for.

Byrd & Barrel’s JITB tacos—that’s Jack in the Box, for the uninformed—are one of those dishes for me.

A few weeks ago, I mentioned to my girlfriend that I hadn’t been to Byrd & Barrel in a minute, to which she responded, “I’ve never been there…”

I threw her over my shoulder, fireman carried her to my car, and gunned it to Jefferson.

I knew what we were going to get. Nugs. Tots. Sauces. More nugs.

As we placed our order, the server asked if we’d tried their tacos yet. When we said no, she told us we needed to. I don’t normally give into peer pressure, thanks to D.A.R.E., but tacos are one drug I can’t resist. She was right.

I should preface this by saying I haven’t had a Jack in the Box taco since college, and that only happened once, so I don’t exactly have a great frame of reference for what they are…but I think it’s safe to say that’s irrelevant. This isn’t Next doing an homage to The French Laundry circa 1996.

On one of my many taco-centric revisits to Byrd, I ate with chef/owner Bob Brazell, a.k.a. Bobby Business, Bobby Bagels, Bobby Nugs and got down to discussing the birth of these bad boys. The answer is pretty simple, as you might suspect: they didn’t want to waste any product. At the end of the day, when nugs were left over, the staff was taking the leftover chicken, blending it up, breading and all, then making tacos out of it. They all agreed that they were ridiculously good, and so they’ve made their way onto the menu.

Corn tortillas are filled with nugs buzzed together with taco sauce, American cheese, and shredded lettuce. They’re thrown on the flattop until they’ve got a hint of char, and then pulled off and topped with parm—kind of like a European version of Cotija cheese. Voila. Tacos, served with a side of their house ranch. They’re also currently 2 for $3, which is ridiculous. You should order 6.

If taco’s aren’t your thing, perhaps I can interest you in their t-ravs? Or, if you’re truly a champ, you’ll order these and tacos. Similar to the birth of the tacos, these came as a result of not wanting to waste leftover product and then realizing that the late-night staff treat was worthy of a spot on the menu.

Once again, nugs are blitzed up, but this time they’re mixed with ricotta, parm, garlic, and herbs, then turned into St. Louis’ favorite portable meat pocket. I don’t think I really need to go on about why a t-rav from Byrd is going to be good. As a St. Louisan, it is your obligation to try them.

Spencer 8/17/16 Spencer 8/17/16

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.

Spencer 10/22/15 Spencer 10/22/15

Byrd & Barrel

A few years back, St. Louis got hooked on the idea of frozen yogurt. Everywhere you turned, a new place popped up. Yogoluv, FroYo, Chill, Red Mango dotted the city (or mostly the 'burbs, I guess) like pimples on a teenagers face. Two years later, barely any are open. Shockingly, people didn't want to eat a delicious frozen treat the 6 months of the year that it's goddamn freezing here. As the yogurt trend melted away, something new emerged: good quality BBQ shops. Tired of the garbage that is Bandana's, St. Louisans flocked to Pappy's and Sugarfire, both of which have expanded rapidly and successfully. It came as a shock to no one (except for vegans probably, but no one cares what they think) that people loved to be able to eat fantastic BBQ whenever and wherever they were.

It's like everyone collectively acknowledged that we, as Midwesterners, love huge portions of food with buckets of flavor. BBQ was the gateway drug—the next wave is fried chicken.

It seems that if there's one thing Josh Galliano taught his young Padawans at Monarch, The Libertine, and An American Place, it's how to expertly pull off fried chicken. His proteges include Rick Lewis, the man behind Southern, and Bob Brazell, the dude who decided to refurbish an old Popeye's and make it Byrd & Barrel.

Both Lewis and Brazell opened restaurants this summer, both with a focus on god's greatest gift to mankind, fried chicken. Southern's focus is on Nashville Hot Chicken and comfort food, while Byrd aims to use gourmet fried chicken in a whole mess of ways.

Months ago, Brazell (whose team includes former Gallianites Tommy "Salami" Andrews, Will "Tugboat" Volny, and Ryan "Ryan" Mcdonald) told me some of the ideas he was kicking around for his menu. The one that got my engine revved up right away was the South Side Poutine. B&B substitutes the fries typically seen in the dish with big tater tot balls, tasting like Waffle House hashbrowns that have been clumped together and deep fried. The balls are topped with tender smoked chicken, cheese curds, chicken (or mushroom) gravy, and chives.

If I ever make a "Top 10 Drunk Foods" for St. Louis, this will be at the top. Cheese, gravy, fried, meat. Winner.

It was a nice surprise to see that their chicken skins aren't done the way every restaurant seems to do it—that is to say, copy what Sean Brock's Husk has done and just dust them in a spicy southern seasoning. Instead, these skins are drizzled with a General Tso's style sauce, giving them a little tang and sweetness. Not eating this entire plate of skins took a LOT of mental fortitude.

Feeling guilty about our first two dishes, I had to throw some vegetables in. The roasted cauliflower came with toasted cashews, grana padano cheese, salsa verde, and a slightly spicy peppadew aioli. The plating style keeps with the other dishes of being sort of a controlled mess on the plate, but the flavors are clearly from experienced chefs. I would get these again, without a doubt.

If you can emphatically say that you love chicken livers, then you must get the banh mi. This is the most chicken livery thing I've eaten in St. Louis, and that includes all the chicken liver mousses. Crispy fried livers are tucked into french bread and topped with pickled carrots, cilantro, jalapeños, cucumbers, and aioli, like every other banh mi.

The one thing you must get your first time at B&B is the Mother Clucker: a giant, juicy, wonderful, fried chicken thigh topped with caramelized onions, a sweet and spicy pepper jelly, and provel cheese whiz (just typing that makes me aroused). To finish, Red Hot Riplets are delicately placed on top.

I've already vowed to name my first born (male or female) Bob Brazell Pernikoff because of this sandwich.

I knew going into the meal that I'd love Bob's thighs, but I had no idea how much I'd love his pickle.

The Tickled Pickle is probably the most ridiculous dish I've seen in St. Louis. A hot dog is stuffed in a pickle, then breaded and fried like a corn dog. It's preposterous, but it works so well. Dipped in the housemade sriracha grain mustard, it's perfect. I think for that drunk meal I mentioned before, the poutine would be my starter and this would be my entree.

I was worried about having St. Louis having two new fried chicken places opening at the same time, but now I'm wishing there were more Southerns and Byrd & Barrels all over. One day...

Byrd & Barrel

3422 S Jefferson Ave

St. Louis, MO 63118

314.875.9998

Spencer 10/6/14 Spencer 10/6/14

Dinner Lab: Signal Fire

Dinner Lab is a national members-only supper club, which means that even if the food is terrible, you will always feel cool saying "yeah, I'm a member there". After you join, you have access to a calendar of upcoming events in your city, which you can then buy tickets to. Each dinner takes place in a unique and unexpected setting, like a parking garage, art gallery or cemetery. Okay, not at cemeteries (I don't think). The dinners are captained by either one of Dinner Lab's traveling chefs or a local "unsung hero" chef. To join in St. Louis costs $129 annually, then each dinner is around $55 per person.The price seemed steep, but I decided it was worth it for a year. And I really wanted to be able to talk about it then say, "Oh, but you're not a member, are you?"

For the inaugural St. Louis Dinner Lab, we had chef Chris Bailey of Portland, Oregon in town to make our wildest dreams come true. His dinner was to be an Asian-inspired meal called "Signal Fire". The surprise location was at 2720 Cherokee Street, an artsy/grungy event hall with a concert venue and bar on the first floor. Not only was this going to be my first Dinner Lab, but it was also my first time on Cherokee! #suburbanite

Doors opened at 7:00pm for drinks and schmoozing, and dinner started at 7:30. There's open seating, so we scoped out the best seat for photo taking and leaned the chair against the table to reserve our spots. I felt like I was back in grade school.

At each spot was a menu, some background on the chef and a Guest Chef Feedback form where you can review each course, write what you'd expect to pay and a few other things. I am pretty sure I saw my sister rating Chris himself as "super hot".

After a good thirty minutes of drinking, the dinner commenced. To start off, we were given [symple_highlight color="blue"]Fried Rice Crackers[/symple_highlight] with a salted prune powder on top. They were like an Asian potato chip, so they were a great bar snack/amuse bouche. Crunchy and salty. Perfect with booze.

The first course was a [symple_highlight color="blue"]broccoli beef[/symple_highlight], sort of. Chris took all the flavors of the typical broccoli beef and turned it into a light starter. A beef tartare sat over a hoisin-based sauce and was topped with crispy grains and fermented broccoli stems, which added a nice crunch. This marks the first time I've had an Asian-style beef tartare that I actually enjoyed.

I played paparazzi as the team of chefs worked to prepare our next course, a [symple_highlight color="blue"]Golden Coconut Curry[/symple_highlight]. Look at that teamwork! They're delicately putting young root vegetables, brown butter solids and whipped coconut milk on those plates.

When the servers put down the plates, I thought this was the whole dish. A curry without any curry to be seen. How modern! Perhaps when I bite into a potato, curry will come oozing out? No, it turns out I'm just not a very good listener. Another round of servers walked out with small jars of one of the most aromatic curries I've had the pleasure of smelling. Tumeric, ginger, Thai red chiles fluttered about my nostrils. Galangal, the sexy, exotic cousin of ginger called my name.

This was one of those dishes that hushed our table for a few minutes. The tender vegetables were very good, but I just couldn't get enough of that curry. Just look at it! It doesn't get much more golden than that. The galangal's potency really turned it up a notch, I think. Gotta love that galangal.

Here's Chef Bailey throwing down garnish like a boss as he and the team work on the [symple_highlight color="blue"]Carrot Sweet 'n' Sour[/symple_highlight]. Talking with Chris throughout, he explained that he's very much into letting vegetables shine on their own, not unlike the chefs at Niche here in St. Louis. The dish's name made me think it was going to be a play on Chinese food, but it was more Korean than anything. The carrots were sous vide in carrot juice then finished on site with a reduction of carrot juice, orange juice, soy sauce and gochujang (Korean chile paste, yo).

They were served with a quick carrot kimchi and a carrot top raita, which is an Indian yogurt sauce. The gochujang and Thai chiles made this a fairly spicy dish, so that raita came in handy. Making a carrot dish that can stand on its own like this is no easy feat; kudos, chef.

Seeing as Chris' aunt had a Thai restaurant when he was growing up, it's no surprise to see [symple_highlight color="blue"]Pla Yang[/symple_highlight] show up on his menu. The trout was stuffed with Issan Thai sausage, roasted whole, then served with a charred lime. I was surprised that each person got their own trout, but I was more surprised that it had crispy skin and was still tender and juicy, seeing as there wasn't really a kitchen there. Chris told me that they seared these in cast iron pans at their off-site kitchen, then moved them to a smoker box to finish them on-site. Aside from the sausage, the fish was not heavily seasoned, which allowed us to taste the natural flavor of the trout. I squirted some of the charred lime on about halfway through and I am definitely adding charred citrus to my fish cooking.

I stepped away from the table for a few minutes and when I returned, I saw bubble tea! Glorious. I'm a bubble tea fiend. I'd get it every few days at this place right under my apartment in Singapore. When I left, they went out of business. Not saying I kept them afloat...but I might have. Utilizing the oversized straw, I took a huge gulp and quickly realized that while this looked like a normal bubble tea, it was just a glass of bourbon mixed with milk punch. What a pleasant surprise. I've now started requesting tapioca pearls in my cocktails whenever I go out.

The meal culminated with a [symple_highlight color="blue"]Thai style ice cream sandwich[/symple_highlight], which needs some explaining. In most of Southeast Asia, the ice cream vendors that are on the streets serve the ice cream not in cones or cups, but between pieces of bread. The have loaves of bread and big blocks of ice cream and just cut off a 'slice' of whatever flavor you want. It looks like this.

For this dish, the slice of bread was replaced by the most buttery piece of brioche I've ever had in my life, toasted until just the right mix of crunchy and soft. It may have actually just been two slices of frozen butter. Between those two buttery layers of deliciousness laid a block of black sesame ice cream. If you're into black sesame, which I am because I'm cultured and shit, this would have blown you away. As if that wasn't enough, it was topped with candied cilantro (genius) and held in place by an equally unhealthy coconut jam. This was a top notch dessert.

If all the Dinner Lab meals are like this, I'm ecstatic to be a member. The whole event reminded me of being back at the cafeteria in high school, except with a lot more alcohol and fine food. If you're into drinking as much as you want, eating creative and delicious foods created by local and traveling chefs, and/or meeting new people, I highly suggest you join Dinner Lab. Sign up here! The next event is a modern Mexican meal called Anomar by chef Danny Espinoza. I'll be the guy with a camera there; say hi!

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