Stuff to eat. Mostly around St. Louis.

Spencer 9/22/16 Spencer 9/22/16

Pineapple and Pearls

I try to limit my word count in posts these days, but occasionally, a lengthy piece is warranted. Pineapple & Pearls opened in D.C. earlier this year and is already rocketing into the upper echelon of American restaurants.

Months ago, Pat Noonan, the man behind Pat Likes to Eat and the only food blogger with a six pack, convinced me that that missing out on a meal at Pineapple and Pearls in D.C. would be a huge mistake, even with it’s $250 per person price tag. Pat knows food, and we both loved chef Aaron Silverman’s sister restaurant, Rose’s Luxury, so I figured, “Be like Pat.”

I'm crammed in the shittiest Uber in D.C. with my brother, Logan, and his girlfriend, Kathryn, anxiously wondering what the meal will have in store. None of us have read any reviews. We're going in blind.

We pull up, point and laugh at the plebs waiting hours to eat at Rose's, and make our way through P&P’s matte black door into the bright white, gold, and wood interior—it's classy A.F. Don Draper would fit in here. We check in with the hostess and are presented with welcome drinks: a Kir Royale for me, soju and shiso the other two.

We're taken into the intimate 20-or-so seat dining room and told that, like Catbird Seat in Nashville, we won't be getting menus until the end of meal, so we’ll have no idea what each course will be—aside from peeking at our neighbor's plates.

Drink pairings, gratuity, and tax are included in the price of the meal—L&K went with the alcoholic pairings, but I wanted to see what a non-alcoholic pairing would be like. We toast our prosecco (and my pear cider), then the avalanche of food starts.

Fennel absinthe bonbons hit the table first, an emerald marble resting on an absinthe spoon over some kind of absinthe cocktail—I miss the details because I'm staring at my own reflection in the bonbon. I pop the yogurt-filled bonbon in my mouth and take a drink. We all nod in agreement. Baby Mexican street corn elotes served over a tiny smoker come next. Give me 11 more servings of those and I’ll be good.

And the winner for most beautiful palate cleanser I’ve had at a restaurant is...The oysters and vodka course comes out on a stunning tower that a slob like me doesn’t deserve, with the lower level's faux oyster shells holding pickled oysters with cucumber granita, fennel, and borage flowers, and the upper levels holding shots of vodka, cucumber syrup, and fennel bitters. The last time I ate oysters in D.C., I had the worst food poisoning of my life and I still haven't mentally recovered 100%. Still, I press on with no regrets.

Chef Silverman himself brings out our next course, which appears to be a bamboo box. He turns it outward and unveils three tiers hidden inside, like some kind of Russian matryoshka doll. The bottom tier holds a sour cherry compote, followed by a foie gras mousse with toasted hazelnuts.

At the pinnacle are three small squares of bread, which Silverman downplays as a mix between brioche and a biscuit. I split my biscuit in half and take a bite without any toppings. Oh god. I think I let out a guttural moan or a high pitched squeeee. It's flaky. Moist. Buttery. And even more buttery when I spread the foie gras mousse on. All three of us try to make it last as long as possible. We would all agree this was the best bite of the entire meal.

We're given a few minutes before the entrees commence, which is good, because my food refractory period is in full swing. Plus, I'm terribly depressed the pan au lait is gone.

Silverware at Pineapple and Pearls (1 of 1)

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Before we continue, let me tell you why the non-alcoholic pairings are even better than the traditional ones: the alcohol throughout the meal was primarily wine, with a cocktail and beer thrown in. My drinks were unique and, quite frankly, amazing. The Thai basil and lime soda was like gourmet Sprite; the smoky Arnold Palmer was the first time in my life I could enjoy lapsang souchang tea; the ginger beer in the coconut made me feel like I was at the beach; the peanut milk cherry cola melted my face off. Get the non-alcoholic pairing.

Entrees make their way out, starting with a petite charred Sungold tomato and peach broth bowl, an appropriate ode to the end of summer. The Fairy Tale eggplant caponata tart that follows looks like someone with far more patience than me spent a half hour delicately placing the basil, garlic chive flowers, mint and golden raisins. It's beautiful, and the flavors are balanced. I would happily eat it again—this coming from someone who isn't an eggplant fan.

The next two courses hop from Italy to Thailand. We're brought cardboard boxes, which open to reveal double-fried sweetbread stuffed chicken wings, accompanied by a watermelon hot sauce and a lime fish sauce. It's like the lunchbox you always dreamed your mom would pack you.

Our plates are cleared and a...what the hell is that? Our server sets what looks like something out of Walter White's lab onto the table, and tells us it's a Japanese coffee siphon—the bottom holds a summer red curry broth and the top Thai aromatics. As the pressure builds from the heat, the broth shoots into the top, picks up all those wonderful flavors, then settles back to the bottom. I immediately order a coffee siphon on my phone.

The curry is poured over crispy enoki mushrooms, shrimp, and coconut and the smell is absolutely intoxicating. I want to lift the bowl up to my face and drink every last drop.

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We miscount what course we're on and assume we're moving on to dessert, but no. There's more. The entrees close out with a trip to a D.C. steakhouse: mini-popovers filled with chanterelle mushrooms, a crispy potato terrine, and two slices of meat from a retired dairy cow. I wish I was less full so I could appreciate it more, but the flavors are solid—I make room for as much of the popover as I can.

The parade of desserts kicks off with a blueberry shortcake paired with whipped Brillat-Savarin cheese, a fairly light but immensely satisfying dish. I give the win to the roasted fig crostata, though. Straight out of the oven and into my mouth. The crostata is bursting with end of the season figs, one of my all-time favorite fruits, and paired with a 'sundae bar' made up of toasted coconut, macerated figs, and three flavors of ice cream. It's a decadent, blow-out finish to the meal. Kathryn crushes me and Logan on this dish, finishing off almost every single ice cream herself.

Our guts busting, we've completed our meal. Wait, no, we haven't. Not until we finish off Logan's "freedom from a shitty job" Italian cake and gelato. Not until we polish off the Chartreuse, Campari, Grappa, and Nardini donuts. It's only then that we are allowed to raise the white flag of surrender and roll out of the restaurant.

As we headed towards the front door, the hostess gave us each a bag to take home with breakfast for the next morning: a bottle of iced coffee, shortbread cookies, and a thank you note from chef Silverman.

I had almost given up on high-end tasting menus years ago, after an extremely boring, extremely expensive meal at JAAN Singapore. This meal has brought me back. Truly, the food, the drinks, the service—I won't forget any of it. Silverman and his team know how to make people happy. It's not overly formal, there's no stuffiness that tends to go with high-end dining. The food isn't all foams, gimmicks, and molecular gastronomy. The meal was fun. And for me, that makes it worth the money.

Next time you're in D.C., go for it. Get a table at Pineapple and Pearls and have a meal you won't forget.

Spencer 9/14/16 Spencer 9/14/16

Eating Around D.C.

Regrets. Late night orders of McDonald's delivery in Singapore. That yellow crewneck sweater I wore senior year of high school. Getting so drunk in Korea that I was too hungover to visit the DMZ.

Picking Boston over D.C. for college. I don't know what I was thinking, choosing the suburbs of Medford/Somerville over Georgetown or Foggy Bottom. I never grew to love the angry Bostonians, the horrible drivers, or the consistently late, terribly run T.

My first visit to D.C. was in 2009, when my brother was a freshman in college there, and I've found myself visiting annually since then. Even with the horrendous traffic and bullshitting lobbyists, I've found myself growing fonder and fonder of it. It feels alive, and it feels like it's moving in a positive direction—particularly when it comes to food.

I don't know if it's a new generation of D.C. chefs rising up or investors drawing talent from other cities, but their restaurant scene in the last 5 or so years has become amazing. Last year, I hit up two of my favorite restaurants, Little Serow and Rose's Luxury, and this year I did even better (including Tail Up Goat, The Partisan, Maketto, and Pineapple and Pearls), though not every meal deserves its own post.

For breakfast, sister restaurants A Baked Joint and Baked and Wired served me well. The latter, in Georgetown, is known for its cupcakes—and they have a lot of them—but I couldn't resist the huge, golden caramelized onion and goat cheese biscuits. At A Baked Joint, it was matcha lattes and sriracha peanut butter toast.

Another morning was at Slipstream, where my brother's girlfriend insisted that we order chai lattes and various toasts (#BasicBitches).

Across from Dean & Deluca in Georgetown is Olivia Macaron, where I indulged in a pistachio macaron (I always need to try the classic), a Fruity Pebbles mac, a s'mores mac, and a Cinnamon Toast Crunch, which was easily my favorite. This was immediately following that giant biscuit, so I did my best to walk it off before we hopped in the car and drove to Union Market, maybe my favorite place to hang in D.C.

Union Market is packed full with food stalls ranging from arepas to bagels to local cheeses to rare spices. And it's only about 10 minutes from where my brother lives! I couldn't resist Neopol Smokery, getting a smoked whitefish sandwich my first visit, then the smoked salmon BLT and smoked mussels when I returned. Plus some Thai iced tea ice cream. And a donut. Oh, some chocolate bars too. And also a couple Korean tacos.

Besides being close to Union Market, my brother's also within walking distance of Shake Shack, so I had to sneak over there. Cheese fries, I can't quit you!

Spencer 9/7/16 Spencer 9/7/16

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.

Jalapeno Watermelon Water at Tail Up Goat in Washington, DC

Cucumber, Melon, and Potato at Tail Up Goat in Washington, DC

Crispy Salt Cod at Tail Up Goat in Washington, DC

Cucumber & Melon at Tail Up Goat in Washington, DC

Seaweed Sourdough at Tail Up Goat in Washington, DC

Brown Rice Bread at Tail Up Goat in Washington, DC

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.

Corn Ravioli at Tail Up Goat in Washington, DC

Lamb Ribs at Tail Up Goat in Washington, DC

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]

Spencer 9/5/16 Spencer 9/5/16

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.

Kounter Kulture st.louis beef gyudon bowl

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 8/10/16 Spencer 8/10/16

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.

Spencer 7/15/16 Spencer 7/15/16

Scenes from Sidney Street Cafe

Behind the Scenes Sidney Street Cafe

St. Louis, Missouri June 2016

Spencer 5/13/16 Spencer 5/13/16

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.

Spencer 5/9/16 Spencer 5/9/16

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.

Spencer 4/4/16 Spencer 4/4/16

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.

Spencer 2/28/16 Spencer 2/28/16

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.

Spencer 2/8/16 Spencer 2/8/16

Lunch Pick: Annie Gunn's

I get that St. Louis has a little bit of city vs. county competition, but the number of times that knowledgable food enthusiasts that I trust have brushed off "The Gunn" is both disheartening and aggravating. If your aim is to eat at all of St. Louis' best restaurants, a visit to Annie Gunn's is in order. Actually, two visits are in order. Go for lunch and ask to be seated in the semi-outdoor atrium. Go for dinner and enjoy a decadent steak dinner with the finest wines. At some point I'll write about their dinner, but this post will serve as a lunch guide.

Many moons ago, I wrote about one of my favorite sandwiches in St. Louis: the French Dip at Annie Gunn's. My pictures do it little justice. It's got a perfectly buttery and soft bun, some of the best roast beef on Earth, and the right amount of cheese. Add to that the au jus and creamy horseradish dip and you're in heaven.

A French Dip might be a bit too heavy for you daintier eaters, so I figured now would be a good time to share some of my other favorites. First off, if you're an eater of chili, theirs is a must-try. I don't really have much to say about it besides "it's really good chili." If you're the kind of person who tells people that you're just big-boned, you should probably go for the potato soup.

For main dishes, there are almost always two fish specials, and they are always good choices. Chef Lou Rook and his team are constantly changing fish and preparations, based on what's available. This past weekend, for example, they featured both fluke and rainbow trout; below is the roasted trout with a badass salsa verde on top. The dish originally came with braised greens and some kind of starch, but my dad is watching his figure, so he opted to get green beans and asparagus instead.

If you really want to take advantage of The Smokehouse Market aspect of Annie Gunn's, you should do the smoked seafood sampler (or the WOW board—I'll cover that another time). I get this all the time because I'm fancy as hell. The plate is composed of their famous Vermont maple glazed jumbo shrimp, Viking Village sea scallops, Troutdale Farm trout, and sturgeon, served with onion, tomato, capers, Pennsylvania Dutch BBQ sauce, a dill sauce, and Guinness rye bread.

The shrimp are good, but overhyped. Your server will almost certainly tell you how you can get them individually as an appetizer. They're a little too smoky and a little too sweet for me. The sturgeon is a nice meaty chunk of fish, with a light smoke and a little sweetness. To me, it tastes a lot like swordfish. My Jewish soul loves it. But nothing tops my love for the unbelievable little sea scallops, something I've tried to replicate at home but failed miserably at doing so. Oh, and the trout—once again, perfectly smoked. I sometimes get a salad with a side of the trout, when I'm feeling particularly healthy—which is rare.

You can't visit The Gunn without stopping by the Smokehouse Market, the connected market and smokehouse. Bolyard's and Truffle's have both done an admirable job of bringing meat to the masses, but no one does it quite like The Smokehouse. There is so much meat in this store, it is unbelievable. Cured meats, fresh meats, sausages, steaks wrapped in bacon, bacon wrapped in steaks. Whatever you want, they have. Their smoked chickens make for a great dinner, their roast beef (the same as the French Dip) is always great to have for sandwiches, and butcher Andrew Jennrich (formerly of Farmhaus) is there to help guide you to the right meat choice.

The Smokehouse also has its own rather large take-out menu of sandwiches and salads. The not-secret but oft ignored sandwich that really shouldn't be ignored at all is the John's Smoked Trout. The same hickory smoked trout from the seafood plate with sliced red onion, capers, cucumbers, and the dill sauce. It is so good.

Spencer 1/14/16 Spencer 1/14/16

Asian Kitchen

The tables have turned—for the last few years, I've held JooJoo up as my #1 Korean restaurant in St. Louis, but it seems Asian Kitchen is making a move. The last time I was at Asian Kitchen Korean Cuisine was in late 2013 for Christmas dinner. I had just come back from Asia and, like every other Jew in America, was trying to get some Chinese food. Royal Chinese BBQ: packed. Lulu's: packed. Frustrated, hungry, and bitter, I turned around and randomly picked an empty looking restaurant that happened to be Asian Kitchen.

The restaurant was dead. There was a Thai family enjoying Korean BBQ, but no one else there. It was just that family, my family, and the server, an older Korean woman. The walls had some kind of off putting paint color on them that I can't recall—something very 70's. Robin's egg blue? Vomity yellow? I took a seat, ordered something meaty, then a wave of banchan (small plates) filled the table. It took our server 3 trips to get everything on the table. We're talking 20+ bowls of kimchis, pickled greens, sweet black beans, potato salad, seaweed. Insanity.

Between the time the banchan hit the table and our mains arrived, two memorable things happened. First, I got scolded by my new Korean mother for drinking soju out of the bottle. I hadn't kicked the bad habits I'd picked up from my Korean business partners. Secondly, an older couple came in after us and they were the rudest diners I've ever seen in person. They couldn't understand why this Chinese restaurant didn't have any of the dishes they were familiar with! The waitress tried to explain that Korean food wasn't Chinese food, but they weren't having it. They refused the banchan because it was "gross". They came over to our table to ask how to order the kung pao chicken. I kindly grabbed the woman's face and held it on my searing hot dolsot bibimbap bowl. Finally, they left and made sure to let the server know they would NEVER be back.

The food we got that night was fine. Definitely authentic, but the flavors were a little bland. Not a bad meal, but not a great meal.

I've since returned. Banchan: still excessive, still delicious. You can ask for seconds (or thirds...) of any of them, and they'll happily oblige you. We had so much kimchi last time we were there, I think I've been fermented. The interior has been redone, a big plus. But how was the food?

Spencer 1/8/16 Spencer 1/8/16

Southwest Diner

I am not a patient man. I can wait maybe—maybe—30 minutes at a restaurant, but only if it has a bar I can sit at and bitterly nurse a whiskey while eyeballing every slow eating diner in the place. That is why I haven't posted on Southwest Diner before. Twice I tried to go on the weekend for brunch, and twice I was greeted with a wait of over an hour. Sure, they have a bus outside the restaurant you can wait in, but the last thing I want to do on a Saturday morning is listen to people babble. I just want to shovel food into my face.

Now that I've got some newfound freedom, I can go to lunch whenever and where ever I want! I called up my friend, chef Russ Bodner, and we headed over to Southwest Diner for an early weekday lunch.

There were only two tables open when we got there, the rest filled with people enjoying what looked like large, bountiful plates of Southwestern fare. I don't know the history of the diner, and I'm too lazy to look it up, but I'm going to guess that this once was a typical American diner, which has since been renovated to look like a 1960's diner in Sante Fe. I can be a little indecisive when it comes to ordering, especially when the whole menu sounds so friggin' good. I'm a Southwestern food slut; one of my favorite places to eat in is Phoenix. All those fire roasted meats and veggies, heavy use of chiles and spice, little bits of Mexican influence—what's not to love? As I waffled back and forth (that's a pun, because this is a diner. Get it?), Russ just went ahead and got himself a cup of the pork and hominy red-chile posole.

Selfishly, he offered me none of his posole, but judging by the speed he scarfed it down and by how it smelled, I'd say it was good.

His main course was worthy of a lumberjack: a smattering of crispy homefries, two perfectly cooked eggs (later doused in hot sauce), and a country fried steak topped with a homemade sausage gravy. Once again, no tasting for me—why do I even eat with this guy?—but he assured me that it was really tasty and he'd happily order it again. Even if he won't share, his opinion on food can be trusted.

My original plan was to try the enchilada, and even after all my waffling, that's what I went with: the stacked enchiladas platter, Christmas-style. If Christmas-style New Mexican food sounds familiar to you, you've probably seen Guy Fieri talking about how righteous it is, brotha, at some family-owned diner there. Half the enchilada is topped with the smoky, slightly bitter red chile sauce, while the other half has the cheesier, tangier, mellower green chile.

There's a clear winner here for me: green chile. It's got a little heat to it, but mostly, it just takes you straight to flavortown...er, it's got a great flavor. I went with barbacoa for my meat of the day, which was a solid choice, but next time I'm going with the adovada, a red-chile braised pork. It's a house specialty and quintessentially New Mexican. Both the beans and rice had nice flavor, too. I was quite pleased with my choice and will proudly admit to sharing none of it with Russ.

By the way, we got a buttermilk cornmeal pancake as a side. Don't judge us. It's research.

I totally see why people are so into these—they're like enormous arepas. I saw a tiny woman dominate a stack of these like it was nobody's business.

I have to hand it to you, Southwest Diner: you are truly a wonderful breakfast and lunch spot. Part of me wishes we'd never met, because I fear that my interest in you will soon become an obsession. Jon's fiery scrambled eggs are next.

Spencer 12/8/15 Spencer 12/8/15

Niche's 10th Anniversary Dinner

I find myself in Niche’s kitchen, perched between the pastry station and the pass, surrounded by some of St. Louis’ greatest culinary talent. I wasn’t expecting this, mind you, so I’m not dressed for the occasion—I’m wearing a wool sweater in a very hot kitchen. Even as I slowly roast, I can feel the excitement in the air, the electric buzz of old friends getting to work together again, the nervous energy of putting on what will be one of the year’s best dinners. This evening, Niche is celebrating their 10th anniversary.

You can view the photos here: https://www.flickr.com/photos/spencerp/albums/72157660494148410

The dinner, a small affair attended by a who’s who of St. Louis chefs, bon vivants, and family, is a celebration of Niche, past and present. Ten years ago, a 25-year old Gerard Craft opened Niche in a small Benton Park space (which has since been remodeled and expanded, home to Peacemaker), a restaurant that gave way to some of St. Louis’ best restaurants in Brasserie, Pastaria (now expanding to Nashville), Taste, and Porano Pasta.

The dinner is a mostly hands off affair for Craft himself. After passing on Niche’s executive chef title to Nate Hereford last year, he’s taken on a Yoda-type role somewhere between a life coach and mentor for the chefs.

The always impeccably dressed Chris Kelling, Niche’s general manager, beckons the chefs and servers to the restaurant floor for a pre-service meeting. Each of the Niche Food Group’s executive chefs will be in charge of one course this evening (that’s 7 courses, plus one from Craft himself), and they describe it in great detail for the servers. Questions are asked, notes are taken. Craft steps up and gives a speech, praising the greater Niche family for all their hard work and giving thanks to his childhood nanny, Dia, for helping to inspire his love for food. I too thank Dia, for without her, there'd be no cheese bread.

With diners set to arrive soon, the evening’s starters make their way out front. Cacio e pepe popcorn to one side, an upsized version of the Dia’s Cheese Bread dish—charcuterie, pickled vegetables, and, of course, Dia’s cheese bread—cover the bar. I manage to grab a couple of the cheese bread balls that were leftover. God, it's good.

As the first course begins to go out, I take my seat at the end of the long table, right next to Sarah Osborn’s hilarious parents. The meal kicks off with Craft’s signature dish, The Egg. Like Dia’s cheese bread, I’ll never tire of it. An eggshell, top removed, is placed on a bed of moss and filled with a maple custard, crisp roasted shiitakes, then topped with Missouri trout dashi ‘caviar’.

I return to the kitchen just as Brasserie’s Nick Blue begins plating his course, a roasted winter vegetable salad. I’m surprised that the chef responsible for some of the richest and heaviest food in St. Louis has chosen a salad in lieu of something with bacon and/or cream, but as he plates up the first salad, I see my doubts are unwarranted. It’s a beautiful mix of whipped goat cheese, roasted butternut squash, carrots, and beets, watermelon radish, pickled radish gel, chestnut chips, and a lemon vin.

Pastaria’s Ashley Shelton follows with her cannellini bean and tuscan kale fagottini, a delicately made pasta with a parmesan brodo. The whole kitchen takes turns trying the brodo, everyone oohing and ahhing as they sip, so I join in too. My eyes roll into my head.

Having already tasted the broth, I rush to my seat at the table and let Sarah’s parents know that we’re in for a treat. Our plates arrive sans-brodo, which is then poured in slowly, its smell permeating the air. The dish hammers home the notion that simple food can be absolutely sublime. As I make my way back to the kitchen, I consider asking for a cup of brodo and some more bread. I decide against it—I still have 5 courses to go, after all.

Michael Petres, a chef with pirate tattoos who I may or may not be intimidated by, begins his dish. Every plate is given a swoop of sauce gribiche, which is like a chunkier, more flavorful mayo, and a bit of herbs, fresh radish, and pickled radish. I ask Matt McGuire, director of service, what the main component of the dish is, to which he replies with a grin, “a crispy pig’s head rillette.” I scurry back to my seat and patiently wait.

Things go dark as I cut open the crunchy rillette and get hit with the smell of pork. I devour the dish in seconds and think to myself, this is one of the best things I’ve eaten this year.

Without asking, I can tell Taste’s Heather Stone is up next because Josh Poletti just brought her a mountain of duck kielbasa. The kitchen temperature seems to rise as Stone gets a massive pot of spaetzle going, Poletti sears off kielbasa, and all of us around them are narrowly avoiding streams of duck jus exploding from said sausages. In rapid succession, the kielbasas come off the heat and are sliced, their juices and emmentaler cheese go in with the spaetzle, and plating begins.

This dish is why I love Taste. All the comforts you look for in food—it’s cheesy, smoky, fatty—taken to another level.

Nate Hereford, the man running the show for the evening, pulls his lamb out of the oven and the kitchen fills with the sweet, sweet smell of roasted meat. I’m shocked at the sheer quantity of lamb, but Nate’s clearly going big on this dish. The cooks begin pulling the shoulders and legs apart, then stacking the meat high on serving platters. For the first time in my life, I’ll be eating communal-style at Niche. I’m excited. I’m scared.

The pass is quickly covered in plates. Lamb, sourdough crepes, and little platters with yogurt, herbs, peppers, and hot sauces begin to head to the tables. Build your own epic lamb tacos! I’ve always dreamed of having an all-you-can eat feast at Niche and it’s finally happening. Sarah’s dad tries to keep the lamb from me, but I manage to get my hands on it. It is everything I thought it would be. I tell Nate’s wife that I love her husband.

I disgust myself at the amount of lamb I consume, knowing full well that I still have treats from Anne Croy, Elise Mensing, and Sarah Osborn left. As the meal starts to dwindle down, I go and sit with Mai Lee’s Qui Tran for a few minutes, during which I realize that I’ve missed Anne’s popsicle course! I dart back to the kitchen where she has dozens more, luckily. It tastes exactly like prosecco and pears. I don’t know how Anne extracts flavors so adeptly, but I tip my hat off to her.

As everything’s coming to a close, I get swept up in kitchen conversations, only to realize that Sarah’s caramel lava cake has already been served. Fearful that her dad has eaten my dessert, I quickly head back to the table. I scarf down the wonderful cake, complete with hubbard squash, honey, apples, and buckwheat, only to realize I’ve forgotten to take a picture of the plated dish. I go back to the kitchen to see if there are any extras, but get caught up along the way by everyone wanting pictures of Gerard and the crew.

People start leaving and I notice that Qui’s eating a macaron. During the chef photoshoot, I missed Elise Mensing’s mignardises, but manage to grab some in the kitchen before Poletti eats them all. The cornmeal macaroon with beet and lemon buttercream feels like an ode to summer, the brown butter sage marshmallows with pecan brittle a perfect expression of fall.

When you think of eating a 10 year anniversary dinner at what is arguably St. Louis' best restaurant, it's easy to imagine a group of pretentious chefs serving an even more pretentious group of diners. No truffles were shaved, no foie gras was seared, no foams were foamed. The meal was as much a reflection of Craft as it was an homage to him. Every one of his chefs rose to the occasion, creating Niche-level French brasserie, casual Italian, bar friendly, Modern American dishes, all of which highlighted simple ingredients being made into something special.

Craft would be the first to tell you it wasn't about him, it was about the team, the Niche Food Group family, and he's not bullshitting. I've never met a business owner who so clearly understands that the better the team, the better the organization. Yet, at the same time, it was very much about him. For us diners, the dinner was a way to celebrate not just the restaurant, but the man himself. He was a major catalyst in the St. Louis food scene not just moving forward, but leaping forward. Without him, we wouldn't have Niche, Brasserie, Taste, and Pastaria and all the great chefs that have worked in those kitchens. Without him, all the great experiences we've all had at his restaurants wouldn't have taken place. He's our first James Beard winning chef, and he certainly won't be our last.

Here's to another 10 years of not just Niche the restaurant, but the whole Niche Food Group, setting the bar for what St. Louis restaurants can and should be.

Spencer 12/4/15 Spencer 12/4/15

La Patisserie Chouquette

With the holidays just around the corner, you've got a lot of entertaining, gift buying, and, more importantly, gift receiving ahead of you. Impress your friends and family with a box of goodies from La Patisserie Chouquette, my go-to for all things sugary and delicious. I took it upon myself to go and try all their winter offerings so I could tell you what you need to be getting (or asking for). I'm sorry in advance for making you hungry.

The Darkness

You claim you love chocolate, but there's only one way to prove it: The Darkness croissant. If you can consume this monument to decadence, this vortex of dark Dominican chocolate, then I'll believe you. Simone spent years (decades?) perfecting this recipe and the result is, uh, perfection. Fellas, think of this as a "forgiveness grenade." Next time you do something wrong, swing by Chouquette, get one of these, and consider yourself out of the doghouse.

Turducken Croissant

Thanksgiving is over, but Chouquette doesn't care. All of December is Turducken month. These football sized croissants are filled with roasted turkey, duck, and chicken mixed with Simone's famous smoked bacon and cheddar cornbread (see below), cranberry orange chutney, and a smattering of French fried onions. Each croissant comes with a side of gravy. Good luck.

Red Velvet Cheesecake

This is the classic Red Velvet cake flavor in Chouquette's soft, sensuous cheesecake. It's topped with waves of rich chocolate cream and a macaron shell garnish. Additionally, it's cut into a rectangular shape so you can easily eat it with just your hands while driving. At least I think that's why it's cut like that…

Canelé

So many Chouquetters get caught up in the glitz and glamour of the cakes, eclairs, and macarons that they end up ignoring these little brown thimbles called canelé (can-ul-ay). That's a rookie mistake. These are my favorite pastries...ever? The outside is crunchy, the inside is soft and pillowy with hints of vanilla and, if you're lucky, lemon and thyme. It's like a tiny cake made with crepe batter. The flavor is sublime.

Chouxnuts

Just after scolding you for only buying the pretty pastries, I'm telling you to buy them. Chouquette's take on the Paris-Brest, a round eclair, are their chouxnuts. Get it? It's a choux pastry but it looks like a donut. The fillings change daily and have included matcha, strawberry, apple cheesecake, bourbon pecan, and Boston cream pie, to name just a few.

Bacon Cornbread Muffin

It's a muffin made out of cornbread mixed with cheddar cheese and smoked bacon. What else do you need to know?

Tiramisu Brownie

For a good portion of my life, I didn't like any desserts except for tiramisu. No tiramisu on the menu? No dessert for Spencer. I've since branched out (obviously), but it still holds a special place in my heart. This brownie—which is almost as massive as the Turducken croissant—hits the spot.

Macarons

You knew these would be on the list, didn't you? No one in St. Louis is doing macarons better than Chouquette. Each little sugary sandwich is packed with flavor, and their fall/winter selections so far have been particularly delicious, including gingerbread, eggnog, "skinny mint", red velvet, and more.

For the full range of what Chouquette has to offer, make sure to go on a Saturday!

La Patisserie Chouquette

1626 Tower Grove Ave

St. Louis, MO 63110

314.932.7935

Spencer 12/2/15 Spencer 12/2/15

Sidney Street Cafe

Eating like a boss runs in the family—I got it from my daddy. For my dad's birthday, he decided he wanted not one, but two birthday dinners. The first at Sidney Street Cafe (SSC), the second at Niche. Not in the same night, mind you, but just a mere 2 days apart. I had seen SSC's chef de cuisine Justin McMillen just a few weeks before our dinner, when he was cooking at the Bolyard's Burger Battle. He kept talking about all these new dishes and they just sounded so good that I used my powers of persuasion to convince my dad that is where he wanted to eat.

Then again, it's not too hard to sell a hot dog gnocchi dish to a man who loves meat. Yes, that's correct: SSC has a hot dog and pretzel gnocchi dish. It's the second time this year I've had a hot dog inspired dish at a fine dining establishment and that is totally cool with me. This version was made up of a sliced house-made hot dog, spicy ketchup, pretzel gnocchi, pickled mustard seed, pickle-tomato relish, and a beer mustard veloute. If someone has had a finer hot dog dish than this, bring it forward! I'm doubtful one exists.

In need of a meatless option for the ladies, we went with the octopus confit—a thick tendril of tender octopus over salsa verde and pozole, Eiffel Towered by Swiss chard chips. I didn't get much of the octopus itself, but I ate most of the pozole. I love the puffed up, juicy bites of hominy.

Our last meal at SSC was in late summer, just after the Spatchcock Quail was added. It's about to leave the menu to make room for another fowl dish, but my thoughts remain the same: the tiny, adorable bird is grilled and served over harissa tossed papas bravas (fried potatoes), charred carrots, and chimichurri. It’s a perfect dish for summer with its smoke and char flavors.

The two newer dishes we got were even better. Even more outstanding.

First, we have the wood grilled snapper—a dish that looks pretty simple, but it's anything but that. The fish was perfectly cooked, the flesh white and tender with hints of smoke and a nutty sweetness some a brown butter vinaigrette. To enhance the smoke, the fish rested over a house made nduja puree, a spicy, smoky spreadable sausage.

The accompaniments were just as bold and delicious: squid ink gnocchi, bok choi, finger limes, and manila clams. Justin told me to get the pork belly special, so that's what I did...even though I'm not a huge fan of pork belly. However, he's bigger than me, so I relented. And boy, I'm glad that I did.

The pork belly was the crispiest I've ever had. Anywhere. I had a video on my phone of me tapping on it so I could send it to friends and family to make them jealous. The slightly blurry picture below does a decent job showing that top layer, I think. Eating a chunk of the pork belly, simultaneously as crispy as can be and as tender as meat gets, with the pickled pepper salad, chicharrones, smoked pig heart, and Cajun grillade sauce, was one of those moments where the world goes dark around you and you just think about how good what you're eating is. As usual, the Bob "The Zuggernaut" Zugmaier's desserts matched the entrees in both looks and flavor. His take on sweet potato pie ('tis the season, after all), a collaboration with his pastry assistant, Kelsey, was composed of: candied yam puree, sweet potato pastry cream, orange cardamom semi freddo, spiced pecans, and a winter spice tuile. Just like the sweet potato pie you make at home.

The apple dish was the family's favorite, though. The combination of caramel glazed Granny Smith apples, cinnamon coffee cafe, a caramel apple puree, creme fraiche ice cream, and the espresso gelee is a tough one to top. I would have gladly just had the coffee cake and gelee, though. They were so good.

And so ends another successful trip to Sidney Street.

Sidney Street Cafe

2000 Sidney St

St. Louis, MO 63104

314.771.5777

Spencer 11/30/15 Spencer 11/30/15

Tai Ke

If I were planning an ultimate eating trip through Asia, I'd start in Japan, bounce down to Taiwan, swing over to Hong Kong, dive down to Vietnam, then finish things off in Singapore. Surprised to see Taiwan on the list? You shouldn't be. The sub-tropical island off the Southeastern coast of China is a food mecca, full of some of the most food-obsessed people I've ever met. There are two sides to Taiwanese cuisine: street food and restaurant food. I spent little time at actual restaurants in Taiwan, and almost every dish I ate at them was similar to the Hokkien Chinese food I was eating on a daily basis in Singapore. This means a lot of noodle soups, braised meats, and tons of seafood.

Tai Ke is St. Louis' newest and only Taiwanese restaurant, as far as I know. I wasn't overly excited about eating there until my sister went and told me they had a Taiwanese Street Snack section of the menu.

I fucking love Taiwanese street snacks.

I nearly shutdown from culinary overload at the Shilin street market. Fried chicken breasts the size of a small child, sausages of all sizes and flavors wrapped in sticky rice, penis-shaped waffles and ice cream, dumplings galore, tofu that smells like a rotting corpse (okay, maybe not that one), bubble tea! I'm getting all hot and bothered just thinking about it.

Newcomers to the St. Louis blog scene JeniEats and Eat First Worry Later joined me for my culinary adventure to Tai Ke. We started with the braised pig ear, which weren't the kind I was familiar with. These were served room temp and were more crunchy than soft, a texture I imagine most Americans will be turned off by. Had there been more of the garlicky, sweet soy on the dish, I think they would have benefited.

I was overjoyed when the street snacks hit the table. We started with the gua bao, pork belly buns, which were meaty chunks of braised pork belly sandwiched between steam bread with cilantro, ground peanuts, pickled mustard greens, and a sweet sauce. The pork doesn't have that crunchy outer layer that Hiro's have, but I thought these were still definitely worth ordering.

The Taiwanese have an affinity for tube meat and sticky rice. It's the Asian version of a hot dog and bun. The sausage itself is a sweeter, fattier dog than you find in pretty much any Western cuisine, making it all the more delicious. Diabetics thought they were cool to eat hot dogs, but not in Taiwan! The sausage is drizzled with the chef's secret sauce (it's like a Chinese ketchup, almost) and some cilantro. I love these.

Finally, we have the fried pork chop. It's a pork chop with a crunchy five-spice infused breading. You're goddamn right it's good.

tai ke sticky rice sausage taiwanese st.louis

The entrees were just as solid as the starters. The Three Cup chicken is a steaming bowl of chopped chicken in a deeply flavorful sauce of rice wine, soy sauce, sesame oil, roasted garlic, ginger, and Chinese basil. I imagine Chinese and Taiwanese grandmas across America started making their versions of this this past week to help fight the cold.

The sizzling bean curd comes out hissing and bubbling like the fajita platter at Chili's, except it actually tastes good. The tofu is fried, then put on a cast iron platter with bell peppers, onions, snow peas, and leeks. It sounds like your typical stir fry, but I thought the sauce was fantastic.

tai ke taiwanese st.louis three cup chicken

Both the mapo tofu and spicy shrimp stir fry were both leaps and bounds better than their descriptions would make you think (and compared to most Chinese restaurants around). The mapo tofu had a nice level of heat to it thanks to chili oil and Szechuan peppercorns and the shrimp, labeled as "hot" with 3 chili peppers, wasn't nearly as spicy as I feared it might be. The flavor of the dish was spot on thanks to a hearty helping of roasted garlic, scallions and more Szechuan peppercorns. Roasted garlic makes every dish better.

Out of all the new Chinese restaurants I've gone to this year, this was the most solid first impression I've had. There's not one dish up there I wouldn't recommend (well, maybe the pig ear plate). Eating there did what any good meal should do: it left me full, happy, and wanting more. The famous Taiwanese braised beef noodle soup will be my next order.

The restaurant is tucked away behind a shopping center off Olive Blvd., right near Dao Tien, and I highly recommend you make reservations. We went on a Wednesday night and saw tons of people get turned away due to the 30+ minute wait.

Tai Ke

8604 Olive Blvd

St. Louis, MO 63132

314.801.8894

Spencer 11/4/15 Spencer 11/4/15

Lunch Pick: La Tejana Taqueria

I have a tendency to get obsessed—with a specific dish, a restaurant, a chef, or, more often, a cuisine. A few weeks back, I watched a video of chef Alex Stupak making these incredible looking al pastor and immediately ordered his brand spankin' new Tacos. I started dreaming of tacos. That lead to a dinner at La Tejana, then a lunch at La Tejana, then visiting the taco stand at El Morelia, a trip to Publico, and so on. I know some people think that Taqueria Durango, La Vallesana, or Taqueria Bronco are better than Tejana, which is totally fine. They're all legit taco makers and I would happily eat tacos at any of them. I just happen to enjoy Tejana and the staff more than the other places.

Here are some quick picks for your next visit:

Al pastor quesadillas: This is a no-brainer. Tejana's al pastor is a delicious mix of spicy pork and sweet pineapple. Put that between two tortillas with gooey cheese? Duh.

Tacos: You can go healthy and eat a chicken taco and a veggie taco (top photo), or you can go big time and get some meat! I switch it up every time I go, which is easy when they have steak, carnitas, cow head (the only one I don't like), tongue, chorizo, tinga (chorizo/chicken), campechano (steak/chorizo), al pastor, chicken, pork skin, and barbacoa. Make sure to ask for the green salsa too.

Everything Verde: Tejana has daily specials, but none are as special as the mole verde or the pozole verde. Both dishes rely heavily on the use of tomatillos; as far as which I prefer, I lean towards the pozole verde. It's like my mom's chicken noodle soup if she was Mexican instead of Eastern European. The bites of hominy that have been plumped up with chicken broth (and wonderful chicken fat) and tomatillo are heavenly. Definitely a great choice for a cold winter's day or if you're feeling under the weather.

La Tejana Taqueria

3149 N. Lindbergh Blvd

Bridgeton, MO 63074

314.291.8500

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...