Casalinga in Raleigh, or Why I Love Yelp

I don't know if you've discovered Yelp yet (it's very possible that I'm behind the trend on this one), but I highly suggest that you do. If you're a foodie and you like to travel, Yelp is there to hold your hand and guide you to a good restaurant. How? Well, with its ability to find the closest Italian/Japanese/Greek/Lebanese/French/Thai (etc.) restaurant, and to provide you with diner reviews, price summaries, and contact information so that you can make an informed choice about your meal away from home, without having to resort to a chain restaurant.

For the most part, I've used Yelp with great success to locate both hidden and well known restaurants wherever T and I decide to visit on our weekends away from the swampland Eastern North Carolina.

The best example of Yelp's prowess came when T and I were in Raleigh about two months ago, and we were a) stranded in the suburbs by Priceline's questionable definition of "downtown hotels" and b) too tired to drive downtown for dinner. I spent a few minutes browsing Yelp's suggestions for "Italian food," and settled on Casalinga, a restaurant whose reviews were a wonderful combination of glowing and more glowing.

http://images.citysearch.net

But when T and I pulled up to the strip mall that Casalinga calls home, we very nearly kept driving. The shops surrounding it were run down and empty, and the restaurant's facade made it look more like an adult video store than a restaurant.

Too tired to keep hunting for dinner, I convinced T that Yelp had never misled us before, and, happily, I was right.

Casalinga's owner, Carlo, has used all the money he saved on the completely bare and depressing location of his restaurant to spruce up its interior. Stepping inside, you'll be impressed/overwhelmed by the number of autographed portraits adorning the entryway walls, featuring everyone from the requisite James Gandolfini to several politicians to, of course, Robert DeNiro.

Painted and decorated to within an inch of its life (but in a charming sort of way), Casalinga is a tiny replica of an equally tiny piazza, complete with checkered awnings and faux cracks in the walls. On Sunday nights (which is when we visited), Carlo hires a singer to sit in the corner and belt out a staggering number of tunes from memory. Seriously. The man knew every word to Brandy (You're a Fine Girl). And yes, maybe a few diners got sick of him, and maybe some even started discussing his performance loudly enough for him to hear, but we loved him.

Like any Italian restaurant worth its salt, Casalinga serves a variety of fresh baked breads, including some of the best focaccia I've ever had. Because I believe that a standard (by which I mean non-innovative) Italian restaurant should be judged by the quality of its basic dishes, I ordered the spaghetti bolognese, and it came in a pink sauce that was equal parts comforting and delicious. T ordered the seafood ravioli and was equally happy, although his cream sauce was a bit heavy (but, then again, what cream sauce isn't?). Our portions were so enormous that we couldn't even think about dessert, and, content to have discovered a diamond in the rough...est strip mall for miles, we made our way back to the "downtown" hotel.

The moral of this story is that sometimes, great restaurants have to sacrifice quality of location for quality of experience, and we shouldn't hold this against them. Instead, we should hide our valuables in the trunk, lock our cars, and head inside for a delightful meal.

Spicy Mushroom Gumbo: Heat Up the Holidays

This is a two-part post.

Part one involves me singing (or writing) the praises of The Black Sheep, a restaurant in the middle of the VCU campus in downtown Richmond. I ate there last week with my friend C and pretty much fell in love, even if my lack of zip-up black hoodie and Converse high tops made me stand out a bit among the mostly unwashed hipster clientele.

The Black Sheep serves phenomenal comfort food with a bit of a retro feel (pimento cheese, anyone?), and features one of those menus that renders everyone at the table silent for about ten minutes while they try to choose the best possible combination of the very tempting offerings.

Although C and I ordered about five dishes between the two of us (what? it's my duty to you to be knowledgeable about as much of a given menu as possible, right?), the standout for me was the Mixed Mushroom Gumbo with Greens. Only after devouring my cup of it did I realized that the soup was vegan, and I'm pleased to report that this was the type of hearty, flavorful dish that gives vegan food a good name.

Part two involves me attempting my own version of the mushroom gumbo, because I couldn't stop thinking about it once I got home.

Spicy Mushroom Gumbo

Yes, I know this picture is out of focus. It's the best one I could take, for some reason.

• 1 package Baby Bella* mushrooms, washed and diced
• 1 package Shiitake mushrooms, washed and diced
• 2 carrots, minced
• 3 cloves garlic, minced
• 1 cup mushroom stock
• 2 cups chicken or vegetable stock
• 2 loosely-packed cups fresh spinach, washed and patted dry
• 1/4 cup red wine
• 3 Tablespoons all-purpose flour
• 3 Tablespoons olive oil
• 1 Tbsp. tomato paste
• Cayenne pepper to taste (I used a teaspoon)
• Paprika to taste (I used half a teaspoon)
• Salt and pepper to taste

1. Since the roux will need considerable attention, make life easier by prepping all of your ingredients first. While you're doing this, heat the olive oil in a large pot over medium heat.

2. When the oil is hot, whisk in the flour, cayenne, and paprika, taking care to whisk until the mixture is smooth. Reduce the heat to medium-low, whisking often and taking care not to let the mixture burn.

3. After about ten minutes or when the mixture has become a caramel-brown color, stir in the garlic and tomato paste. The mixture will thicken very quickly. Add red wine to thin it out.

4. Stir in the carrots and mushrooms, coating them evenly in the tomato-garlic-roux mixture. Add the mushroom and chicken stocks and any salt and pepper, and cover. Cook, stirring occasionally, for 20-30 minutes, or until mushrooms and carrots are tender.

5. Just before serving, stir in the spinach. It'll seem like a lot, but will wilt down to almost nothing in a matter of seconds. If the soup is too thick, add a bit of water to thin it out. Serve over brown rice, quinoa, couscous, etc. 



* Really, any type of mushrooms will do in this soup. I chose these two varieties for their richness of flavor, but feel free to substitute simple button mushrooms, crimini mushrooms, oyster mushrooms...you get the idea.

Ignoring the fact that mushrooms and spinach are absolute non-negotiables to some (especially when cooked), I deem this Spicy Mushroom Gumbo a success. The textures are different, for sure, but the heat and heartiness of this soup make it a perfect winter dish, especially if you're looking to cut down on your meat intake and still be satisfied at dinnertime.

GROW: Boiled Beef Tongue

This week's installment of G.R.O.W. hits close to home, because my grandmother is a big fan of all things beef. Her favorite cocktail? The bullshot, a horrifying mixture of beef broth and vodka.

http://www.worldproutassembly.org/images/cow-tongue.jpg

Another of her favorites? Beef tongue. She loves it. Like, loves it. Growing up, when the market in my hometown had beef tongue in-store, she'd call to alert us, glee (and hunger) audible in her voice. She also used to call to tell me when figure skating was on T.V., because I was pretty sure I was going to be a professional figure skater for a while. That dream crashed and burned, though, when I took my first figure skating lesson at the age of eight and totally sucked, and was double the age of the rest of my classmates.

Anyway, back to beef tongue. It's definitely not as popular as it used to be, especially because Americans (myself included) are more afraid than ever to eat even close to the whole animal. It's also much healthier than some of the other G.R.O.W.s I've featured, but what it lacks in unhealthiness, it makes up in grossness.

http://www.instructables.com/id/Boiled-Beef-Tongue/

See? I told you it was gross. I can't even imagine eating another creature's tongue, but it's one of those random "special interest" ingredients that has started appearing on trendy menus recently, like at Public in New York, where I had a lovely, non-beef tongue dinner of beet gnudi this summer.

I'm off to make dinner...and it definitely won't include boiled beef tongue. Blech.

Marrakesh in Jacksonville, NC

T and I were doing errands in Jacksonville (the North Carolina one, not the Florida one) yesterday afternoon, and found ourselves caught in the same dilemma we've stumbled into a few times before. We woke up late and ate a big breakfast yesterday morning, and then found ourselves starving at about 3:00 p.m.

Jacksonville is kind of a black pit of despair when it comes to quality food. There's a branch of pretty much every fast food restaurant you could ever imagine, but it's not a great place to feel hunger pangs unless you want to end up taking a bag of greasy food to the face.

AND THEN, we happened to drive by Marrakesh, a new Mediterranean and Middle-Eastern restaurant right by the Target in Jacksonville. It sits alone in a strip mall that hasn't managed to attract any tenants yet, so it's pretty easy to pass by unless you happen to be starving and searching desperately for something that won't give you a heart attack.

T and I are both obsessed with Mediterranean and Middle-Eastern food, so finding Marrakesh in the sea of burger joints (and pawn shops and barbershops and sex shops and military supply stores) in Jacksonville was like a gift from heaven. We ordered baba ganoush and falafel to start, and then chicken taouk (for me) and a shwarma platter (for T).

The baba ganoush was fine, if a little heavy on the cumin, but the falafel was the best either of us had ever tasted. Instead of being dry inside, it was moist and almost creamy. The flavors were fantastic, and it was hard not to order another plate. My chicken taouk was wonderfully tender and spicy, and I'm pretty sure T loved his shwarma, because he didn't really talk until it was finished.

The other wonderful part about eating at Marrakesh was the service. Our drinks were never empty, we had new napkins dropped off at the table before we even noticed we had dropped ours, and I'm pretty sure that everyone who works there came out to say goodbye when we left.

I'm glad to read that Marrakesh is doing well in Jacksonville, because it's a welcome break from the adult onset diabetes-inducing food the town seems to prefer. Their food is fresh and delicious, their service is fantastic, and their ambiguously Middle-Eastern decor is charming.

Les Philosophes in Paris: Remembering and Re-Remembering

My name is Kitt, and I have a problem. I love to share my favorite things with the people I love. This seems nice, and even a little cheesy, but it's really a terrible failing.

Let me give you a for instance. As I've mentioned before, my favorite movie is The Last Waltz, a Martin Scorsese film about The Band's farewell concert in 1976.

I've made more or less everyone I love (and even some people I just like) watch The Last Waltz. But here's the problem: I love The Last Waltz so much and have learned so much about it that I want to stop it every five minutes to tell a back story or point out how cool it is that Robbie Robertson just takes over with a guitar solo for Eric Clapton when Clapton's guitar strap breaks mid-performance. And when I do that, I want whoever is being subject to my insanity to confirm for me, each time I stop to rant about some feature of the film, just how wonderful or cool or interesting it is.

Transfer this problem to every favorite restaurant of mine, and to every favorite book, song, and dish I've ever enjoyed, and you see the issue. Unfortunately for poor T, I love him the most, and, therefore, want to share my favorite things with him the most. He's reading Lord of the Flies right now, for example, and I'm pretty sure my English teacher obsession with it is ruining it for him. He refuses to see the whole good versus evil, Simon = Jesus trope in the book.

With the exception of The Office and Modern Family, T's tendency is towards not finding the things I obsess about as AWESOME!!!!!! as I do. It's frustrating, but it's also honest, and when he says he likes something I love, I know it means he really likes it. 

Now when it comes to one restaurant in particular, I got lucky. I first ate at Les Philosophes in Paris when I was eleven, on a trip there with my father. I don't remember it or what I ate there very well, but that's because I was eleven, and my memory of that trip consists of a French woman commenting on how pretty my blonde hair was, my friend losing her CDs (including LaBouche...BLAST FROM THE PAST!) in a Paris taxi, and spilling hot chocolate all over our family friends' white rug.

I do remember returning to Les Philosophes with my father when we went again during my senior year of high school. We got a little light-headed on a bottle of wine, and, again, I have no idea what I ate, but I remember loving it. I think I also really enjoyed being able to smoke openly in front of my father (I know, I know...it was a phase...it was high school), which I distinctly remember doing during our lunch there.

I returned to Les Philosophes twice more during my junior year in college abroad in Toulouse: once with friends, and once with T. When I went in the fall with some friends, they loved it as much as I did. I think we all ordered the steak au poivre, served with sautéed potatoes and green beans that I actually enjoyed (I'm a green bean hater unless they come from Granny's house, where they are served drowning in butter). I think we also really enjoyed the chance to take some red wine to the face before rejoining our study abroad group in order to sit on the world's most uncomfortable seats during a production of Cyrano de Bergerac.

When I brought T to Les Philosophes in the spring of the same year, I was pleased by how much he loved it. We ordered almost identical meals: tomato tarte tatin as an appetizer, steak au poivre as an entrée, and then tarte tatin for me and crème brûlée for T as dessert. It was one of those quintessential French bistro meals, where the food and wine are delicious and the atmosphere is so thick and satisfying that you feel you're consuming it, too. By this point, Les Philosophes had been categorized in my mind as a "must visit" on every trip to Paris, because I had come to associate it with Paris itself.

We went again during our honeymoon, though, and it just wasn't quite right. My tomato tarte tatin and his soupe à l'oignon were both quite tasty, but the steak au poivre was...different. The cut of meat was full of gristle and quite fatty, and it was overwhelmingly large and totally out of proportion with the rest of the plate (sautéed potatoes and green beans, again). It felt like a Frenchman had plated the side dishes, and then handed the plate over to the Golden Corral to supply the steak.

Seemingly silly factors like time of day and temperature may also have played into our disappointment. We went in the late afternoon, well after the lunch hour was over and well before dinner would begin. As a result, Les Philosophes was quite empty, and the softly lit atmosphere I remembered from my previous trips was harsh and bright instead. I'd also always visited Paris during extreme cold, and therefore relished being able to step into Les Philosophes, take off my scarf and coat, and be surrounded by warmth and the smells of French food. Instead, we arrived in a very warm Paris way overdressed, and kind of staggered inside, sweating. Not exactly the comforting entrance to which I had grown accustomed.

This whole rant probably says a lot more about me than it does about this restaurant. I'm a bit crazy, and I like conditions to be the same each time so that I can perfectly reproduce the experience I treasure so much. Because I first watched The Last Waltz on a cold and drizzly day in Maine, for example, I find it best when watched from the comfort of a cozy blanket when it's cold outside.

Either way, I think we take comfort in knowing that, when we return to a place we've visited before, that great little gem of a restaurant or coffee shop or bookstore will be exactly the same, as though its existence has been suspended from the moment we left until the moment we walk in again. And when it's different, it alters our perception of the entire town or city itself. But that's OK. That's what memories are for in the first place.

Traveling Foodie Fail: The George in Wilmington

Two things crossed my mind when I saw the entrance to The George, a restaurant on the riverfront in Wilmington, NC. First: come October 2nd, my last name is going to be George, so that's cool. Second: I love eating on the waterfront, so that's cool, too.

The George may have seemed like a good choice because I was already giddy and drunk on the beauty of Wilmington by that point. It feels like a true southern town, with tall trees shading all the main roads, Spanish Moss dripping from their branches. It's small but charming, and it's definitely a refreshing alternative to all that is Jacksonville.

(All that is Jacksonville.)

Anyway, I checked out the menu and decided that, even though the dishes were a little pricier than I wanted for lunch, I would do my best to channel Calvin Trillin and, wedding shape be damned, take advantage of the opportunity to try some good local food.

We sat out on the porch, which was lovely. And that was the end of our good luck when it came to The George.

In the spirit of exploration and good blog fodder, I decided that we needed to go fried or go home, and so we ordered the Fried Pickle Platter and the Fried Green Tomatoes for appetizers. I chose the Soft-shell Crab Po'boy sandwich for lunch, confident that this was fixin' to be one of the most authentically southern meals I'd ever eaten.

I should have known something was wrong when, in his best Don LaFontaine voice, our server responded to our order with "faaaaab-u-LOUS."

See the pickles? Delicious. Now, see all the other stuff? Atrocious. The pickles were legitimately tasty, with an amazing balance of salty, crunchy, and tart that made the starving bride inside my head beg for more. Everything else was just kind of...there. The sauce had no flavor, the banana peppers were tough and bizarre, and the mozzarella sticks had clearly been sitting out all day and had turned to solid chunks of rubbery grease that felt more like pencil erasers than food.

Next came the Fried Green Tomatoes. I've tried these before on other journeys south and absolutely adored them, so I figured they'd be a safe bet. Unfortunately, not even the fresh mozzarella (an almost foolproof way to make me happy) had any flavor to speak of. The tomatoes themselves were too big, too mushy, and completely bland.

Finally, Mr. Moviefone delivered my Soft-shell Crab Po'boy. I was so busy being horrified by the fact that it was literally a whole deep-fried crab carcass slapped on a bun that I actually forgot to take a picture. Just imagine a crab, trying to scuttle its way off the bun, and being frozen in place by the thickest batter you've ever seen. I think I heard my arteries cry out in terror when I finally managed to work my knife and fork through the cement-like layer of batter, and I know I heard my heart cry out in terror when I took my first and only bite. 

Just like the tomatoes, the sandwich was completely flavorless. Given all the grease I had already ingested by that point, I just couldn't bring myself to "get my money's worth" from a bland sandwich that threatened to make my hips expand and my heart stop.

Mine wasn't the only disappointing meal. M ordered a sad little grilled shrimp appetizer that came absolutely drowning in barbecue sauce, and C ordered a grilled veggie wrap that was soggy and flavorless and that she could have made better herself. The side of white cheddar grits she ordered was crying out for salt, and might have been put to better use as paste in a kindergarten classroom. Save for our fried pickles, none of the food was satisfying, and all of it was overpriced. In short, The George is a rip-off. We left feeling depressed by our complete Fail, and went to get some ice cream*.

*Did I mention I'm trying to look good for a wedding? Ha.

Traveling Foodie Goes South: Riverview Cafe in Sneads Ferry

On my recent trip to the Camp Lejeune area to scout out housing options for T and me, I found myself unable to stop eating complete trash. Lots of car snacks and fried things (more on that later) made me feel gross, and the restaurants we went to were pretty disappointing on the whole.

But then, on Saturday night, my friend M used her frighteningly sophisticated research skills (by which I mean she's just a really persistent Googler) to find us a fantastic seafood place in Sneads Ferry called Riverview Cafe.

Did Riverview Cafe feature a sophisticated selection of vegetables?

No, no it did not.

Did Riverview Cafe have a view of the river?

I didn't really check; I was too busy ordering a cold glass of white wine.

But did Riverview Cafe feature an amazing broiled scallop dinner?

Yes, yes it did.

Although it wasn't as magically cheap as I was hoping it would be ($19.99 for a broiled scallop dinner with a side salad and fried zucchini), the helping of scallops was generous and left me feeling satisfied, as opposed to the consistent feeling of being gipped that I get when I order a scallop entrée that features four scallops artfully surrounded by stupid dots of sauce and costs the same.

M and C both ordered the broiled scallop and broiled flounder combo meal, and the flounder was equally as tasty and equally as plentiful as the scallops. We skipped dessert, which Riverview Cafe is known for (coconut cream pie on top of nine billion scallops and a carafe of white wine just doesn't sound like a good idea), but I'll be sure to try it in the fall, when I take T there. As I've told him, it's our new favorite seafood place.

Also worth mentioning is the shop across the street from Riverview Cafe, called (of course), the Shop Across the Street. It's tiny and it sells a lot of beach-themed jewelry and gifts (some tacky, some really nice), but what's really special about it is the owner, the type of sincerely kind and welcoming person that makes you believe in Southern hospitality.

His wife is from Massachusetts, too, and he warned me that I might experience some culture shock (hers was over the lack of pastrami at the grocery store), but said that he hoped I'd find happiness in North Carolina. If I can find more restaurants like Riverview and more people like him, it shouldn't be too hard.

Treats to Try: Babootie, Barbecue, and Blueberry Cocktails

My grandmother has recently moved into a long-term care facility, which is all kinds of depressing. Instead of dwelling on that, let's take a moment to observe the gloriousness that is Granny's sun hat.

Can you tell that I'm obsessed? I may or may not still have it on as I type. It's my thinking cap.

Since this ain't no fashion blog (and that ain't no fashion hat), I thought I'd move on and share with you this installment of Treats to Try: Babootie, Barbecue, and Blueberry Cocktails.

First up is one of the best cookbooks I discovered while packing up Granny's kitchen. And by best, I mean rarest. And by rarest, I mean no one wants this cookbook and therefore no one printed more than like six, and that's why I love it.

1. Yankee's Main Dish Church Supper Cookbook

• This cookbook features recipes for those hallmarks of New England cuisine such as "Red Flannel Hash" (tastes like hipsters?), "Beef Strips Oriental" (bahahahaha those old WASPs), "Carrots Excelsior" (does anyone else picture a giant carrot sword?), "Fish Casserole," and a WHOLE section entitled "Meatballs, Meatballs, Meatballs." It also features something called "Babootie" (South African by origin), which is all kinds of wrong. Ground beef, tomato, onion, banana, apricot jam, apricot, almonds, sugar, curry powder, and vinegar. Wowsah. How the hell that counts as Yankee cuisine is beyond me. Maybe a really, really high Yankee.

2. The North Carolina Barbecue Society Historic Barbecue Trail

• As its name suggests, this is a trail of twenty-five North Carolina barbecue restaurants that meet standards ranging from "cooking their meat on pits fueled by wood or charcoal" to "operating continuously for fifteen or more years and enjoy[ing] the high esteem of their communities, the barbecue industry, and barbecue afficionados." Consider this fair warning; I will conquer the trail. You know how much I love barbecue, and T has already promised that we can spend our weekends hunting down all twenty-five restaurants on the trail (it will be grueling, eating all those ribs and hush puppies) when we move to North Carolina.

3. A Blueberry Gin & Tonic

• Speaking of WASPs, I'm always reminded of gin & tonics when summer rolls around. I have a hard time with gin, though, and I usually prefer either to drown my gin & tonic in a gallon of lime juice, or trade it for a glass of chilled sauvignon blanc. However, blueberry gin & tonics are a different story. You can make your own blueberry simple syrup, or you can be lazy (like me!), and buy some real blueberry juice and add it to a standard gin & tonic. The tartness of the blueberries cuts that leathery gin taste really nicely, and you end up enjoying your cocktail, rather than wishing you could risk your street cred by trading it for something tastier.

That's all for now--I'm off to do another PhotoBooth photo shoot with Granny's hat and try to figure out which of the Yankee recipes I'll be testing out for you, my darling little Babooties. Blech.

The Kittchen Heads [Farther] South

As I've mentioned before, the food in the military is an issue. Of almost equal concern are the food options surrounding military bases. Except for at Camp Pendleton (which is only immune to this issue because it's flanked by L.A. and San Diego) these are scary, scary places, posing as restaurants and grocery stores.

Take Jimmy the Greek, in Quantico, VA, for example. A testament to the fact that Greeks are good at some things (democracy) and not others (interior design), the decor at Jimmy the Greek features fake grape vines, statues of the Acropolis, and horror-movie chandeliers.

The food itself is just not good. Pasta dishes come overcooked and swimming in sauce, the spanikopita is frozen-spinach-heavy and too light on the feta, the garnishes are slices of candied horrors that might have been apples in a past life, etc.

But Jimmy the Greek is only the tip of the iceberg. The main reason I'm writing yet another post about food in the military is because: a) I'm marrying into the military, and b) T and I will be moving to Camp Lejeune, in Jacksonville, North Carolina, after we get married in October. For me, this makes the military food issue even scarier.

A Google search of "grocery stores in Jacksonville, NC" yields the following results:

• Walmart Supercenter 
• Food Lion 
• Oriental Market
• Piggly Wiggly 
• A Great Gas Heating & Air (sorry, what?) 
• Kangaroo Express 
• Circle K. 

Wow. This is a far cry from Richmond, where I lived less than two miles from a Whole Foods, a huge Kroger, a Trader Joe's, and Tom Leonard's.

I don't mean to be a food snob, but I am one, and, in terms of food, this duty station is a disappointment.

Of course, I will have a really cute husband and (fingers crossed) a house near the ocean to make me feel better, but, as a food blogger, I have to say that this will be...an interesting experience (I'm saying that with the same gritted teeth and false levity that I used to use when telling a student that his or her atrociously bad essay was...on the right track, but needed rethinking).

I know that I can make do with the contents of a Food Lion if I have to (for example: try pronouncing it Food Leone to try to add a little glamour to the experience), and I also know that this will be a great source of hilarious (for you) and depressing (for me) blog posts as I explore the options available to me throughout the next year or years or whatever.

But, all the same, I'm going to freak out the neighbors tonight by performing a special moonlit prayer dance for the gods of farmer's markets, Whole Foods, and Trader Joe's in the hopes that they take pity on me in my time of woe.

Dinner on the Cape: The Glass Onion in Falmouth

If you know me, you know how important my childhood on the Cape was to me. So, every time I return to Falmouth, I make certain mandatory stops in order to preserve the illusion that I still have some sort of link to a place I haven't lived in for five years.

I always drive to Chappaquoit Beach and sit there for a while, I always drive by my old house and die a little inside when I see someone else's car parked there, and I always stop at my favorite places to eat and drink. These stops include: a sandwich at BoxLunch, several thousand iced coffees at Coffe O (Coffee Obsession to you tourists), and chocolate raspberry jells at Ben & Bill's.

Because most restaurants in Falmouth are overrun by the worst kind of tourist (which, I believe, sounds a lot like terrorist for a good reason), I tend not to add new places to my repertoire. Nevertheless, I was taken to the Glass Onion, a new restaurant delightfully close to Coffee O, for a birthday dinner recently by my friend P and her mom J, and I'm happy to say that it was delicious.

www.tripadvisor.com

The service and décor at the Glass Onion--a name chosen, we were told, by the owners' three-year old for his favorite Beatles song--were equally charming. The interior is done in soft green, dark-stained wood, and lots of glass, a combination that's wonderfully soothing from the moment you step off of busy Palmer Avenue into the window-lined vestibule.

The night started off with a compliment from the chef: shooters of chilled cucumber soup. That alone was enough for me to proclaim this restaurant a success, but then I had the bread. Normally, I'm not a big bread person. Outside of France, I've struggled to find bread good enough to legitimize the extra carbs and calories at the beginning of what's already a rich dinner. But this bread was different. It had the right combination of crisp crust and soft interior, but what really sold me was that the crust absolutely glistened with salt.

For dinner itself, I chose the Grilled Lamb Chops with a Roasted Tomato and Black Olive Couscous, and I became a believer in the power and charm of the Glass Onion. The lamb itself was lovely, but what stood out the most to me was the way the roasted tomatoes and the black olives complimented the gamey flavor of the meat without overpowering it.

Despite my attempt at staying dairy-free, I indulged and ordered the Vanilla Yogurt Panna Cotta with a Strawberry Rhubarb Sauce for dessert. It was worth it. The panna cotta was exactly as creamy and smooth as I wanted it to be, and the portion was enough to satisfy without overwhelming.

If you're in Falmouth and you're sick of the crap they're calling restaurants on Main Street, try the Glass Onion. It's elegant, soothing, and delicious, and you'll be supporting a local business!

Traveling Foodie: Balliceaux in Richmond

Since the school year is drawing to an end and we're all going off on different adventures, a group of my female colleagues and I met for dinner last night at Balliceaux, on Lombardy Street in Richmond's Fan District.

rvanews.com

I was really impressed with Balliceaux. The aesthetic of the restaurant is a mix of soothing green (lots of plants), grey, and lots of wood. Everything is pleasant, but nothing is ostentatious, and the clientele matches Balliceaux in that regard; there were dressed down older couples, dressed up women meeting for cocktails, families, and us. By us, I mean a group of thirteen, who Balliceaux graciously and skillfully accommodated.

We ordered a lot of food. My end of the table started with truffle fries, which I had never had and which I would happily eat every day for the rest of my life if I didn't think it would stop my heart in about a week.

Next came the bread, which was drizzled in olive oil and kind of chewy. Not my favorite.

For my appetizer, I chose the Tandoori Fried Cauliflower ($9), which was served in a cone of pappadam with chickpea salad and "quick pickled" cucumber. The cauliflower had a wonderful sweet taste, and managed to remain light and crispy as opposed to the deep-fried, doughy atrocities restaurants sometimes passed off as fried vegetables.

My friend C ordered the Spicy Crab and Coconut soup ($4.50), which was equally delicious, if not very coconut-y. I also overdosed on crab last weekend in Annapolis, so the idea of a whole bowl full of it was overwhelming.

Somehow, I managed to forget to take a picture of my entrée, which was Roasted Rainbow Trout ($19) with fennel purée, Dutch potatoes, and sauce Gribiche. The trout itself was good, if a little dry, and the fennel purée was fantastic. The Dutch potatoes, though, were tough, and the sauce Gribiche didn't really feel like a natural fit with the rest of the meal.

I would definitely go back to Balliceaux. Having worked as a waitress, I know how dreadful the prospect of a 13-top (waiter speak for party of 13) is, even if you know it'll mean a big tip. But our waiter was kind, patient, and really good at his job, and our meal went off without a hitch. If you're ever in Richmond, check it out.

Da Lat: Really Good Vietnamese Food for Really Cheap

www.tripadvisor.com

I went to Da Lat on Broad Street in Richmond (out near Short Pump) last night with my roommate C, and it was pretty great. The restaurant itself is what you might expect: over-air conditioned, filled with kitschy, ambiguously Asian trinkets, and dimly lit. But the service is great, which more than made up for it.

I started with the vegetable dumplings, which were fine. Although they appeared to be filled with chopped spinach and onions, there was no real vegetable taste to them. I probably wouldn't order them again, but they also weren't offensive in any way. If you like fried doughy stuff dipped in generic dumpling sauce, you'll love them.

For my main course, I ordered the Bun Thit Cha Gio, which consists of rice noodles with shredded carrots and cucumbers, bean sprouts, chopped up spring rolls, pork, mint, and crushed peanuts. It was only $6.95 for a large bowl, and the serving was just right. By just right, I mean too big but not so big that I felt disgusting after eating the whole thing (did I tell you that I have no self restraint?). The mint, cucumber, and sprouts gave it a wonderful fresh taste, which was really nice on such a hot evening.

Also worth mentioning is the generous hand with which Da Lat's servers pour glasses of wine. I ordered a glass of Cabernet last night, and the waiter nearly spilled it when he set it down on the table because it was so full. I mean, it was like a tankard of wine. $5 for 2-3 realistic servings of red wine? I'll take it.

I'd definitely go back to Da Lat. The prices are fantastic, it's really close to my house (well, for about another month...until I move!!!!), and the food is great. One last warning: don't eat the complimentary mints! They look like they're spearmint-flavored, but it's a dirty trick; they taste like turpentine, limes, and coconuts. Stick to the free toothpicks.

Traveling Foodie in Del Mar: Poseidon

During my whirlwind trip to San Diego for a job interview (my fingers are so crossed that they're almost broken at this point), I had the luxury of being taken out to lunch and to wander around Del Mar by my wonderful Aunt D. We chose to eat at Poseidon, which is one of many beachfront restaurant that overlooks the Pacific along the shoreline in Del Mar.

http://www.delmarmotelonthebeach.com

We went to eat at Poseidon right after my interview, so I was a little brain dead and kind of stared out at the ocean from our seats on the patio for the first few minutes of lunch. But a cool glass of pinot grigio and a delicious Catch of the Day sandwich (mahi-mahi for me) with avocado and a "spicy remoulade" were just what I needed to bring me back to life.

Aunt D had the calamari, which was served in large, panko-breaded strips as opposed to the shriveled curls we get on the East Coast. It was totally delicious, and there was enough for both of us to have plenty.

All in all, I liked Poseidon. It wasn't revolutionary, but the waitress was wonderful and, for those of you who are single, there's a house full of lifeguards living next door who were blasting 80s music and...being off-duty lifeguards in general while we ate lunch.

Even though I was in San Diego for less than two days, I ate really well. We ordered real Mexican for dinner from my Aunt and Uncle's favorite takeout place, and I even got to eat an orange that my Aunt picked for me from her little grove of citrus trees. I managed to smuggle one back on the plane that I had at lunch today--delicious!

Elimination Diet: I'm a Quitter

In the spirit of full disclosure that I promised in starting this blog, I have something to confess.

I caved on the elimination diet. I made it to day 19 of 21, and I caved. This is very typical Kitt behavior.

It all started when T and I went to Greek4U, the tiny Greek place on the corner of Pump and Patterson in Richmond's West End. Despite the name, Greek4U has been getting rave reviews, particularly about its avgolemono soup. I'd been feeling cranky about not getting to eat all the "fun" stuff (the food I've eaten on the elimination diet has been pretty great, but there comes a time when one just wants a burrito or a piece of spanikopita), and I thought I'd take T to Greek4U in order to enjoy the food vicariously through him.

Then we asked about the dolmades (stuffed grape leaves) and the woman waiting on us brought us a fresh one to try. I made T take the first bite to see what was in it and if I could eat it, and then...and then I took the plunge. I ate the other half of the dolma, knowing that it contained white rice and some tomato sauce.

It was so good.

So, naturally, we ordered five more (in addition to a gyro and a piece of spanikopita for T) and I took them home and scarfed them, rationalizing all the way. I know for a fact that I'm not cutting out tomato permanently, I told myself, so this doesn't really matter.

Then I decided I'd throw away the next 24 hours on an eating binge, and then just not bother reintroducing the things I know I want to exclude indefinitely. I'm not sure why this seemed like a good idea, except for the fact that I had already messed up this whole reintroduction thing, and I was sick of not getting to eat what everyone around me was eating.

So I had some red wine (Tres Pinos, a California blend of merlot, cabernet, and syrah). And then I had a few chocolate raspberry macaroons from Greek4U (amazing). And then today I decided this would be my last hurrah and I attacked a plate of French Toast and a chocolate milkshake at the Silver Diner.

And now I feel like absolute death. My body does not enjoy dairy.

So I've decided to rationalize (which, by the way, I believe should be a national sport) this whole 24-hour hiccup this way: I know that I'd like to cut out dairy, gluten, sugar, and coffee indefinitely, so I might as well have one last dairy-gluten-sugar party in my stomach in order to say a proper goodbye, stomach ache be damned.

Tomorrow I'll begin my own version of a reintroduction period, slowly reincorporating the veggies, fruit, nuts, and soy I couldn't have during the elimination portion of the diet. And if anything makes me feel terrible, I'll avoid it from now on.

The moral of the story: you need to go try Greek4U, now. And I'm a quitter. But there's the "life is too short" side of me that doesn't feel all that bad for quitting, especially given that I've accomplished what I set out to do: figure out which foods my body doesn't handle well (D-A-I-R-Y), and cut them out.

See? I can rationalize anything.

Not Worth the Wait: Granville Moore's in D.C.

So I've always wanted to check out a Gastropub, because I love beer, I love the cozy feeling of a good pub, and I'm clearly obsessed with food. Finally given my chance to try one out, I ate at Granville Moore's in Northeast D.C. on Friday night.

I was excited for Granville Moore's for three reasons. One, it's close to my friend C's house and it meant not having to take the bloody metro. Two, Granville Moore's serves Belgian food, which meant a French menu, which I knew would allow me to put my ludicrously expensive degree in French to use for about three minutes (which, let's be honest, is more than it's been used all year). Three, I was so hungry that I was seriously contemplating stopping into the H Street Rite Aid to hit up the crackheads inside for a packet of peanuts.

Despite my excitement, I have to say that I wasn't impressed by Granville Moore's. Walking through a doorway that felt like it was leading to a crack den (these doorways are common on H street), we were greeted by Hipster Barbie: a faux-tan, faux-fur vested, faux hipster who looked us up and down and told us the wait would be "an hour, at least." Now it's true that I don't wear skinny jeans and Keds. But I'm also no slob (especially when I get the chance to escape the suburbs of Richmond for a real city), so it pissed me off to be treated like a soccer mom just because I wasn't dressed in a black hoodie and denim leggings. Also, one of my friends WAS wearing hipster clothes, so that should have given us street cred right there.

Enough about clothing and bitchy hostesses. After a longggggg wait, Hipster Barbie (oops, there she is again) deigned to offer us three seats at the upstairs bar. We said yes, hunger winning out over pride. I thanked her so much, and we went upstairs to meet...I'll call her...Fluffy, our bartender.

Fluffy did the "I'm so cool and relaxed, I'ma straight memorize your orders" thing. And then came back to clarify what we had ordered. Twice. And still messed it up. Well before the food arrived, Fluffy put out our dipping sauces, and I got so desperate for nourishment (other than Chimay Rouge) that I started eating it with my dirty, D.C.-covered fingers. That's right. I am class.

When our food came (a chicken sandwich for K, a bison burger for moi, and mussels champignon for C), I was psyched to finally eat something, and attacked the burger. I had never tried bison, and was equally excited to write to you, my little apricots, about the experience. I got about halfway through before I realized that the only difference between this bison burger and a plain old pub patty was about $5. C's mussels tasted pretty good, I admit, but then I crunched down on fifty bazillion grains of sand and got cranky.

Granville Moore's fries are worth noting. They're like ten milliseconds overcooked, so each one is crispy and delightful. They're also sprinkled with rosemary and sea salt, and they come with yummy dipping sauces like Horseradish Creme and Truffle Aioli.

All in all, I wouldn't go back to Granville Moore's unless it were really late at night, I had lost some of my decision making skills, and they were handing out samples of fries and Horseradish Creme sauce. Their staff is weak, their beer is overpriced, and their food just wasn't worth the wait or the interaction with Hipster Barbie and her friend Fluffy.

I'm sure defenders of GM's will tell me that I should have stuck to the mussels, their specialty, and shut my face. But my thought is: shouldn't everything you serve be good, and not just your "specialty?" That's like going to a plastic surgeon who cuts off your boob by accident and then being told, "well, he really specializes in Botox injections."

Let's Get Greek-y: Tapas in West Hartford

Since I was treated to dinner from there tonight, I thought I'd write a quick acknowledgment of T's family standby when it comes to take-out: Tapas, the best Greek food in Hartford. I've never actually eaten at the restaurant (of which there are three in the area), but I've awkwardly waited in the vestibule area for my bags of takeout more times than I care to share, and the atmosphere seems great (pathetic, I know).

I have to admit that I've only had three things from Tapas: the Gyros (with grilled onions and extra tzatziki...delicious), the Greek salad, and the Chicken Mykonos (chicken and a dill cream sauce in a deliciously buttery filo pocket). My understanding, from the menu, is that it's fairly Americanized Greek food (as in, they serve a veggie burrito and a cajun chicken pocket), and it isn't what I would call cheap. That said, the food I've had from Tapas is always comforting and delicious, and I'm happy to let people keep buying me Tapas dinners (again...pathetic, I know).

Give Tapas a try if you're ever in West Hartford, Bloomfield, or regular old Hartford. And no, I don't know why it's named Tapas when it isn't Spanish and there's a perfectly good Greek word, Mezes, for the same type of small appetizers. Oh well, who am I to criticize? I'm happy as long as they keep making me Chicken Mykonos.

Bay Haven: Where Dreams Come True

So pretty much every time I make the trek to Maine, I demand a trip to Bay Haven Lobster Pound in Cornish. Their seafood is always fresh, their portions are a reminder of why America is so obese (which is a good thing when you're paying for seafood), and their service is surprisingly good. This place is a typical seafood shack, in that it doesn't have a website, it's packed every night of the week by slow-moving old folks, and it doesn't have to advertise. Ever.

If you wanted to teach someone about a New England demeanor and you only had 5 minutes, you could take them either to Fenway Park or to the tavern attached to Bay Haven, where the grizzly old local dudes sit and make jokes in the thickest Massachusetts accents I've ever heard in my life (remember, I grew up in Massachusetts). Last night I imagine they would've been asking themselves if Nomah pulled a hammy heading up to the podium to announce his Red Sox-y retirement.

Every time I'm there, I order the broiled scallops with lobster stuffing. The order comes with about 15-20 sea scallops, swimming in butter and packed into a casserole dish and covered with the sweetest, most glorious stuffing I've ever tasted. My mother and stepfather usually split the fisherman's platter, which is a straight up dump truck of fried everything and makes my heart hurt to think about. But it is delicious.

The coolest thing about Bay Haven is that it's this good and this fresh in Cornish, which is definitely not by the seashore. Given that I went to high school in a landlocked part of Connecticut, went to college in Pennsyltucky, and live in Richmond now, I'm a snob about fresh seafood. My rule is usually that if I can't hear waves crashing, I don't usually eat it (of course, I make exceptions when I want to cook fish at home). And yet, even though I definitely don't hear waves crashing in Cornish, I'd eat Bay Haven's seafood for the rest of my life.

If you're ever in Portland, it's worth a drive about 45 minutes west to Cornish. Bay Haven's prices are good, and you'll never eat bad seafood there. T's family of six in Hartford has had us buy, no joke, 20 lobster rolls to drive down with us when we're going from Maine to Connecticut.

That's all for now, chickadees. Off to Cape Cod, then to Connecticut, then to D.C. Lots of driving ahead.

Traveling Foodie in Philly: Village Whiskey

I wasn't a fan of Chef Jose Garces, who won last year's Next Iron Chef competition. He didn't stand out to me the way Jehangir Mehta did, although that was mostly because Mehta had this delicious look on his face every time he was criticized that said "I'm so sorry I have disappointed you. I'm going home to self-flagellate for a while in my secret shrine to The Chairman."

But then my dear friend M, who lives in Philadelphia, took me to Village Whiskey, Garces' teeny-tiny 30-seat burger joint. And I saw the light. Maybe it was the duck-fat fries, maybe it was the pickled heirloom beets, or maybe it was the amazing angus burger with avocado, caramelized onions, and Jasper Hill Cheddar. Whatever it was, this is my new favorite burger place.

Also a must-try: the cocktails. I don't generally like mixed drinks (too high school...is that OK to say?), and I wasn't very excited to order one, but M insisted that these were special and so I had a Ginger Rogers, and then another. It was delicious. It didn't make my mouth hurt with sweetness; it didn't knock me over with booze. It was heaven in a cute, cool, antique-looking glass.

So. Go to Village Whiskey if you're ever in Philly. The staff is friendly, the wait isn't bad if you go before or after peak dinner hours, and the food is just the cat's pajamas. That's right. I said it.

Side note: I've heard tell that Bobby Flay is opening another Bobby's Burger Palace in Philly this Spring, and all I have to say is good luck, dude. Garces owns burgers, if you ask me.

An Update from the Kittchen

Apologies to my loyal readers (all three of you) for the lack of posts recently; lacrosse season just started and I've been getting home from school each night at about 8:00 p.m., making a sad salad of cucumbers and vinaigrette or (if I'm feeling crazy) cucumbers, cherry tomatoes, and vinaigrette and passing out. On the upside, I'm getting outside for two-three hours each day and my girls all finished their timed mile in under 10:30!

Since I haven't been doing a lot of real cooking, I thought I'd offer a few updates instead.

First and most importantly, I ate a fried pickle tonight! We were at the Home Team Grill to have dinner and drinks, and someone innocently pointed out that fried pickles and jalapeno caps were on the menu. Channeling Andrew Zimmern (only not as badass), I decided I had to try one, even if every ounce of my Northern upbringing was screaming "NOOOOOO!" I also tried a fried jalapeno cap. They were both really good. So essentially what I've gained from two years living in the South is...having eaten a deep-fried oreo, pickle, and jalapeno. My arteries thank me.

Second, in a sad turn of events, my friend C and I decided to pretend to observe Lent in order to give up my two biggest weaknesses: sweets and pasta. As you can imagine, this has made it difficult to keep my New Year's Resolution to bake more. The phyllo dough that I ran out and bought with absolutely no plan in mind is sitting in the freezer, lonely and whimpering as I type. I still haven't really defined what "no sweets" means, but I've successfully avoided any desserts, candy, etc. and am thinking that I should focus on baked goods that are sugar-free if I really can't wait 40 days and 40 nights. Once life settles down, I'll see if I can choose a sugar-free baked goods recipe that doesn't make me want to yurk (technical term), and I'll give it a whirl.

Third, I'm contemplating a serious "life decision," by which I mean moving on from teaching for a while and doing something totally selfish. I've been accepted to BU's Master's program in Gastronomy, which examines "the role of food in historical and contemporary societies from a variety of perspectives—gaining a holistic view of the impact of food, food science, and nutrition on world civilization." So, essentially, I'd get to think about, talk about, write about, and EAT good food, for a degree. The program was founded, in part, by Julia Child, so that's cool. It's also in Boston, which makes my heart sing (Dirty Water, of course). I'm still waiting to hear from NYU's Master's program in Food Studies, which covers mostly the same ground, and is, from what I can tell, the stronger program. Even though it's in New York (do I even need to say it? Oh, OK: Yankees Suck.), I'd be really thrilled to get in. And I'm really impatient, so...yeah. Waiting for big news is not my favorite. I'll keep you posted.

Grad school presents a myriad of problems, including but not limited to: the cost, the risk of this degree not doing much for me professionally, the cost, the fact that Boston and New York are not known for their Marine Corps bases (which is where T is headed), and, oh yeah, the mind-numbing cost. I'm already drowning in student loan bills as it is--is a Master's really worth it? Again, I'll keep you posted.

That's all for now. I will have a Kittchen adventure this weekend, come hell or high water (maybe rosemary-lamb burgers?), and I promise to post about it.

Traveling Foodie, Mid-Atlantic Edition: Where to Eat in Annapolis

The Naval Academy Campus, located in the center of Annapolis. Definitely a spot for an afternoon walk.

So, I've been visiting Annapolis, Maryland, for about six years now, and I thought it was high time I shared with you my favorite spots to eat. Be advised: this list is long. But it's also pretty thorough, so if you're visiting Annapolis for the first time, you'll know where to go.

In order to give you a sense of the relative cost of each establishment, I've devised a very complicated rating system. $ = Cheap, $$ = Not Cheap, $$$ = Expensive. Most places in Annapolis range from $$-$$$, unfortunately.

The Big Cheese & Sammy's Deli: This gourmet sandwich shop offers no seating, but makes some of the best sandwiches I've ever had. While they're famous for their Annapolitan, I usually order the H4: dill havarti melted over black forest ham with a Dijon mustard kick on multi-grain bread. Grab sandwiches for lunch and then head over to the benches by the City Dock to eat and check out the boats in Ego Alley at the same time.
Price: $$

Mangia Italian Grill: For Italian food in downtown Annapolis, there aren't a ton of inexpensive choices. Mangia's benefit is that, while the food isn't exactly innovative, you can count on it to be tasty and filling. I always order the Linguine alla Critzos (a linguine dish with a white wine, tomato, and mozzarella sauce), and I've never been disappointed. Mangia also serves the drunk late night crowd in Annapolis with pizza slices available after the bars close (cash only!). Full disclosure: I have seen a woman of questionable sobriety flash the cashier for free pizza when she realized it was cash only and didn't have any cash. And she got the pizza.
Price: $-$$

Nano Asian Dining: As a sushi fiend, I can tell you that the sushi at Nano's is the best in Annapolis. Joss Cafe & Sushi Bar is a close second, but you can't beat Nano's for price, quantity, and freshness. They don't skimp on the fish in their sushi, and their menu is friendly to both sushi lovers and sushiphobes. Go there. Trust me.
Price: $$

Maria's Sicilian Ristorante & Cafe: Remember how I said you can't find cheap Italian food in Annapolis? If you don't mind the price tag, Maria's is fantastic. The polite and friendly service complement the delicious food, and the low lighting make Maria's a great date spot.
Price: $$$

El Toro Bravo: The food at El Toro Bravo is fine (other than the abominable Chile Rellenos I once at there), but it's the margaritas that keep most patrons coming back weekend after weekend. They're the size of your head, and they make any food seem delicious.
Price: $-$$

Chart-House Restaurant: If you're looking for good seafood and a beautiful view in the Annapolis area, Eastport's Chart-House Restaurant is the place to go. I've never had a bad meal there, but I've also never looked at the menu without having a small heart attack. Definitely a place to go for a celebration.
Price: $$$

Cantler's: You can't visit the Mid-Atlantic without going for crab. And you can't go for crab without hitting Cantler's, a crab shack with brown paper tablecloths, mallets, and bibs. By the end of your meal, your lips will be burning with the Old Bay that comes caked on each crab, but your stomach will be so happy that it won't matter.
Price: $$

Harry Browne's: Of my two favorite breakfast/brunch places in Annapolis, this is the fancier. Harry Browne's offers a Champagne Brunch and a Bloody Mary bar on Sunday mornings, but their best feature is the Annapolis Eggs Benedict: a typical Eggs Benedict served with two generous crab cakes to satisfy the seafood craving you'll inevitably develop the longer you stay in Annapolis.
Price: $$$

Double T Diner: Double T is the place to go for cheap, delicious breakfasts. They serve grilled muffins, huge omelets, and fabulous diner coffee.
Price: $

There's bound to be a restaurant or two that I've overlooked in creating this list, but what you see above pretty much sums up my college weekends, many of which were spent visiting T at the Naval Academy.

Of course, in a tourist location like Annapolis, you'll also find places you wouldn't like to revisit. While I've discovered my fair share of these, I think it's better to let you find your own favorites with a little positive guidance instead of talking smack about restaurants that very well could have gotten their act together since I last visited.

The bottom line: go to Annapolis, and eat the food, especially the seafood. Even in the middle of winter, the views of the Chesapeake are bound to lift your spirits, and the food on Main Street and in the surrounding area is bound to please your palate.