Vacation Edition: Boston

While I was visiting the Fam in Boston this weekend, the Mayor (an affectionate nickname we have for Brother, who is not, in fact, an elected official) and I went to the 1st Annual Boston Food Truck Festival. This dog, from Boston Speed's Famous Hot Dog Wagon, was well over a food long - and I waited for over an hour for it. (I got it "loaded" with homemade mustard, barbecue sauce, relish and onions. Tangy!). I really wish I had put something in this picture for scale. The only downside to the day was that there were not quite enough food trucks to meet the demand (the lines were long!). Luckily, the Mayor was there with me. While I waited in line for this gigantor, the Mayor spied a shorter line and fetched us some of my favorite snacks: PICKLES!

Hot pickles...

... and sour pickles.

All in all, it was a great day. Plus, I heard a rumor that the group which organized the festival may be organizing similar events in other cities. With so many great good trucks in the DMV (DC, Maryland, Virginia), I can only hope someone puts one together here.

Festival!

Conquering the Cheese Counter: Goat Cheese

Whole Foods is a dangerous place. I only ever go in when I have a very specific - and very short - list of things I need to get, but the post-workday frenzy that goes on between 6 and 8pm is intoxicating. I grab my few necessary items, take a deep breath and nine times out of ten, opt to take just one more exploratory lap around the store. The freedom of knowing that I am not doing my actual weekly shopping convinces me that, hey, it is okay to spend a few extra dollars on pomegranates or that I need to experiment with soba noodles or even that I really should practice my knife techniques on a ripe pineapple. Obvi.

Recently I was talking with one of my best girlies, Bex, about the cheese counter at Whole Foods and all the delicious, unknown wonders therein. Invariably, we both buy our favorite types of cheeses, (she likes goat cheese and I never met a cheddar I didn't want to take home and introduce to Mom) but what if we didn't? What if we tried the blue, the green, the nutty, the fruity, even the stinky? What if we ventured into our own veritable undiscovered country of cheeses? It could only fabulous. And as a double bonus, I will no longer wander the aisles of Whole Foods on a Wednesday night, idly running my fingers over everyday and exotic fruits. Instead, I get to spend twenty minutes perusing, smelling and scrutinizing the hills and valleys of the Whole Foods cheese landscape.

This month's selections are:

FireFly Farms Allegheny Chevre
Ok, so it is a bit of a bummer to start out with disappointment, but this cheese really didn't do it for me. My immediate thought was: unwashed gym socks. Granted, my cheese palate is not all that developed, so maybe I am missing something. I stared at the package forlornly, when I read, "Serve at room temperature." Ok, let's try this again. I let the cheese warm up and it did improve. It tasted more of earthy tang, than sweaty foot. Boyfriend's comments, on the other hand, are not fit to be printed. Bygones.

Capricho de Cabra with Fine Herbs
A significant improvement over the last cheese. It had a subtle, milder taste, which really propped up the herbs. This cheese was creamy, with that goat cheese tang, but it wasn't overpowering. The flavors kind of floated in and out of my tastebuds while I was eating it. It reminding me of something, which I couldn't quite place. (Every really great cheese should always remind you of something, even if it is itself). I would be happy serving this cheese to guests or just munching  away on my own. This one was hard to put down.

Drunken Goat
For my final cheese of the month, I decided to go with the drunken goat cheese, mostly because my two previous cheeses were the super soft, spready kind and this cheese was firmer, like a swiss. (Also, check out Mom's super classy dinnerware in this picture). I guess the big selling point on drunken goat cheese is that is it soaked in red wine, but as sexy-party as that sounds, it really didn't make a difference in the flavor. In fact, this cheese was too mild. I feel like I was chewing on it for a minute before that goat-milky flavor even announced itself.  Bummer.

This month's winner is: Capricho de Cabra with Fine Herbs! Runner-up: Drunken Goat. I can't help but think that if I had more time with DG, we might have bonded, but as it was, I had a plane to catch. On Boyfriend's recommendation, I decided not to attempt to fly my cheese home with me. I am pretty sure TSA would have had a thing or two to say about that. Additionally, sitting in my purse for 3-plus hours probably wasn't going to do my cheese any favors.

Vacation Edition: OBX, NC

Seafood Spectacular! That's right, folks, I got down with my bad, raw bar self. I also ate enough shrimp to satiate a small whale. My foodcation continued, perhaps without the same level of success as the Cape, but there were still many good eats to be had. I ate 15 oysters in one sitting! Awful Arthur's Oyster Bar had huge, fresh and flavorful oysters (and didn't skimp on the portions), but the spiced shrimp were a little, "meh," and the bartender in the upstairs lounge seemed a little inexperienced. (In Arthur's defense, I tried the spiced shrimp at Dirty Dick's Crab House, by which Arthur's suffered in comparison. More on that later).

In the lounge, I ordered a Blue Moon to nurse while we waited for a table. The bartender said they didn't have any orange slices, but would I like some orange juice? -- Do people do this? - I paused for a minute and said, "Sorry, I was confused. I thought you just offered me orange juice with my beer." To which he replied, "Yeah, I did." It was just too ridiculous, so of course I responded, "Oh, yes, I'll have some." (?!) There was a split second when I contemplated pouring the shot of orange juice, which was served in a paper, 8-ounce Dixie cup, into my beer, but opted to just carry the thing awkwardly around with me until we were seated. Am I missing something? Was I meant to sip the juice as a chaser with every drink of my beer? Please, if you know, pass that knowledge this way. Moving on...

I have an embarrassing confession to make. I was warned it might happen. The signs were there all along the way. But I couldn't help myself; I got crabs at Dirty Dick's. OK, so the real shocker here is not my little confession, it is the gift shop in the restaurant, which sells - at eye-level with small children - thong underwear, printed with pictures of sultry, well-endowed lady-shrimps with the words: "Peel me. Eat me." W-O-W. Is there anything left to say? The King crab legs were good (I'd never had them before) and the spiced (peel and eat) shrimp was very tasty, but the atmosphere was that of an ice cream parlor in hell, with a huge, blue-lit bar in the center and checkerboard tablecloths on the tables. This place really needs to decide if it is a lame, dirty joke, or a purveyor of family-friendly-fish-fare. Needless to say, it did not merit a picture. Whew.

Tortugas' Lie

Delicious! Our last night my boyfriend and I stumbled on this "local favorite." We split an order of Conch fritters, because I had never had Conch. It was a little hard to tell whether or not I like Conch, with all the friedness it was coated in, but I think I did. Sadly, I can't be any more descriptive than that. However, my entree, the Coco Loco Chicken, while also fried, was full of flavors and textures. The chicken was covered with flakes of coconut and served with an addictive lime-curry dipping sauce, freshly complementing and cooling the hearty crunch of the fried coconut. If the chicken looks a little funny in the photo, it is because, yes, I had to have a bite before I took out my camera to capture this chicken macaroon. Like many of the dishes on the menu, the chicken came with rice, black beans and salsa, which I enjoyed stirring together and covering with my remaining lime-curry sauce. Delish!

Now that I have spent a large portion of my disposable income for the summer, it is back to home cooked casseroles and cakes. Fortunately, I have finally settled my dispute with Bon Appetit and new additions will be rolling in monthly. Additionally, I have a few cooking classes in the fall, which should provide new directions, even if it is in the dessert department.

Vacation Edition: Cape Cod

Whew, I have just spent two amazing weeks eating myself silly, first down the Cape, then on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. The first stop on my cuisine tour of the East Coast was the Blue Moon Bistro . Growing up, this location was a superb breakfast place called the Snow Goose. The place was a staple of my young summer diet. Since the Snow Goose departed, the location has been several different things, but I sincerely hope that the Blue Moon Bistro is here to stay. I started with a cup of the Gazpacho, which was thicker than I make, but with a very satisfying hint of spiciness. For my main course I tried the Butternut Squash Ravioli, which was heavy (obviously), but I was delighted that the accompanying cream sauce was light and flavorful, balancing well with the sweetness of the caramelized onions and the packed-to-capacity ravioli. This entree is offered in a smaller version, which looking back, I should have ordered, but only because there was bread pudding on the dessert menu, which NEEDED (we have discussed this) to be tasted.

My parents both had a swordfish special, which I am sure was fresh and delish, but since my seafood intake is strictly limited to raw bars, sushi and most crustaceans, I didn't save room to try a bite. My only reservation was that the bread pudding could have been zippier, as it has a grandma's-homemade-from-what-was-in-the-pantry feel. Personally, I feel that bread pudding is such a staple, the excitement of eating it comes from combining interesting ingredients (banana, caramel, liquor, croissants) while maintaining the comfort-food appeal. All in all, a basic raisin bread pudding still hits the mark.

If you love the Cape, as I do, and are looking for something a little more interesting that the basic family-friendly-(read: fish stick)-fare, I highly recommend the Blue Moon Bistro (even though I will always miss my precious Snow Goose.

The Red Pheasant

My other notable stop was The Red Pheasant Inn, dining at which I regard as a personal, foodie victory for two reasons. One, I ordered the duck, which I have never had before. Two, the Red Pheasant has always been the parents'-night-out dinner spot, for which the kids (my brother and me) were left with a stack of VHS and a take-away pizza, while my parents wined and dined down the street. Not that I blame them. I wouldn't want to spend nearly $30 on an entree my child would merely poke at before becoming too anxious to sit still and go running under the feet of the wait-staff. Therefore, I find is doubly rewarding that my literal and figurative entrance into the adult dining world of my childhood should be greeted with a dish of which I have never partaken.

The duck(ling). There was some debate on the onset, between my father and me, as to whether or not the mouthwateringly melty layer of fat on the top of the duck should be eaten. Having never eaten duck before, I was somehow convinced that eating the fat, with the meat, was a crucial part of the duck-eating experience. Despite the fact that my father didn't agree, I followed my instincts and was back-of-the-knee-tinglingly rewarded. I was fortified by a passage I read in Bill Buford's "Heat," in which Mario Batali feeds very thin slices of pork fat to Bulford's dinner guests, while telling Bulford that at his restaurant it is served as "prosciutto bianco" so as not to upset the lardo-phobes. I usually fear an excess of fat, as it is often accompanied by grizzle (yuck!), but eating this dish whole was possibly a life altering event. I promise never again to fear the presence of fat on my plate. Cross my heart.

More to come (with pictures!): Vacation Edition: Outer Banks.

Manchego, Krispy Kreme and New Orleans

I've been playing with the idea of starting a food blog, since - let's be honest here - until baseball starts, food is the only recreational activity that truly interests me. Plus, I try new restaurants, recipes and techniques all the time, so I'll be detailing all of my successes and failures.

But first, a review of my weekend exploits. Ah, New Orleans, what a fabulous gastronomical experience you are. I had a grand time. I worry that I am becoming an old lady, because Becca and I barely "went out." We ATE OUT quite a bit, but we didn't do the whole drinking-until-dawn routine of our youth. Honestly, I think both of us were ok with that. We had some very good heart-to-hearts. Despite the fact that both of us still have no idea what to do about our differing little dramas, we ended our trip feeling satisfied in our heads, hearts and tummies.

Friday night we went to a place called Mimi's in the Marigny. Mimi's is right by Becca's apartment and was recently voted best bar by the Gambit Weekly, although my friend Andy says he's not quite sold. We chose a sampling from the Hot Tapas Menu , the pinnacle of which was the Mushroom Manchego Toast. This little square of cheesy goodness was piled high with shaved mushrooms, a soft, melty layer of salty manchego and just-solid-enough piece of toast. Manchego was one of our cheeses of choice in high school, so it was fitting that it still has the power to bring Becca and me together.

The next day we went to the home of the famous Purple Truck, Boucherie. The small plates, alone, are well worth a return visit. I have to admit, that Boucherie may have been my favorite meal of the weekend. We went in for lunch and enjoyed a couple bottles of Abita Amber, which was surprisingly good, considering I have only ever had their very sweet Purple Haze. We started off with the Collard Greens and Grit Fries as well as a plate of the French Fries with Garlic Butter & Parmesan Reggiano. So good. I have to say I preferred Becca's BBQ Shrimp Po'boy to my Pulled Pork Cake, which was a little ridiculously constructed as a leaning-tower-of-pork. But the real gem at this place (which I will be attempting soon) was a Krispy Kreme bread pudding. It doesn't take much to get me excited about a bread pudding, but the super sweet hint of donut glaze in every other bite was transporting. There is something about glazed donuts that makes me feel so carefree.

While I had intended to try the fried alligator appetizer at Cochon, Becca insisted that I try the Fried Rabbit Livers. I don't think I've ever had liver, regardless of who it belongs to, but this was very good. It had a funny consistency that felt kind of like goat cheese, which weirded me out when I realized it wasn't. But I powered through and enjoyed myself thoroughly.

In other food related news, I found what is rumored to be a very fun cooking school that offers recreational classes. They do demonstration and participation classes for pretty much everything under the sun. I am going to a demonstration class (read: cheaper) this weekend on "dessert tapas" where we'll be trying bite-size delectables. I am very excited. One of my co-workers says he has bought their classes as gifts for his wife and that they are: "fun, social and involve food, " which pretty much meets my essential requirements for any kind of event. Apparently, I am going to an authentic Scottish bar this weekend as well. Mini raspberry cheesecakes to lamb haggis. Stay tuned.