Savannah: A Mixed Bag at Vic's

After stopping by Molly MacPherson's for a beer


This pub is a cheerful, cozy place to hang out and drink beer.


and taking in the sights and a cocktail in the sleek lounge atop the Bohemian hotel,



In all of our photos, note that the Maven's camera is set to the wrong date.  :)


the Mississippi Maven and I strolled down an eerily deserted River Street.  Our late lunch at Mrs. Wilkes' still lingering in our bellies, we began to contemplate our dinner prospects. 

Usually, I like to avoid restaurants located in an obvious tourist trap like River Street, but a bit of preliminary research revealed that Vic's on the River had possibilities.  And, as if it were predetermined, we found a business card for the place on the floor in the hallway of our hotel.   

A few hours and a wine-and-cheese reception later, pleasing live piano music, soft lighting and full tables greeted us at Vic's as we blew in from the cold. Warmly welcomed, we were shown to a lovely table that viewed shimmering lights reflecting off the Savannah River.  Ahhh....  Our timing was uncanny this trip because Vic's, unlike its River Street competitors, was bustling on this frigid December evening and, like our fortuitous experience at Mrs. Wilkes',  no wait! 

The Maven ordered a martini and I studied a well-organized and varied wine list.  Not rushing us in the least, our informative server inquired about my wine preferences and suggested I try an unoaked Chardonnay by the glass.  Vic's has a surprising variety of wines by the glass, half-bottle and bottle.  This one - the only part of the name I remember is Naked (imagine that!) - was about $10 a glass and went well with my scallops, which she also recommended. 


My scallops.  Boy, were they good!

Perfectly cooked, the half-dollar-sized gems had a beautiful golden, mildly salty sear and a silky, succulent interior.  They were terrific with a capital T.  The Maven tasted them and said they reminded her of lobster. 

They were served over crab risotto and topped with a nest of arugula.  I like arugula but thought this was a weird application.  I assume the chef was going for more color, almost using it as a garnish.  It was more crispy than wilted.  While risotto and scallops would have been a bland-looking plate on their own, replacing the arugula with fresh asparagus or another colorful veg would have pumped up the presentation as well.

The risotto was fine, not as creamy as I would have liked, and I would have preferred it cheesy rather than crabby.  Those awesome scallops didn't need any competing seafood flavors.

Mississippi Maven had crabmeat-stuffed shrimp.  I found them uninspired.  They reminded me of a touristy dish you often see in Florida.  Unless I see giant shrimp and lump crabmeat, I am not impressed.  I saw neither, but they were okay.   They were accompanied by grilled asparagus and rice.

I know I am back-tracking but I must mention our unusual appetizer - crawfish beignets - listed on the menu as award-winning.  The best part about these was dipping them in the Tabasco-laced sauce drizzled on the plate.   The Maven knows her crawfish and we had a hard time detecting them in this dish.  These "beignets" were more like miniature spring rolls made of sweet, fried dough and sparingly stuffed with a mild seafood-tasting substance.  The sweet-hot flavors were good but not what I'd consider prize-winning.

Accompanying the meal was a basket of - what else - biscuits.  Although served with a punchy and chunky orange marmalade, these little guys were lacking flavor and texture.  They needed that marmalade! After tasting the incredible biscuits at Mrs. Wilkes', these paled in comparison.  I didn't even finish one, and that's not like me.

Also relegated to the tasteless department was the dressing on the creatively challenged dinner salad.  With only the flavor of oil coming through, the everyday spring mix screamed for salt and more vinegar.  I see no reason for a restaurant in this price range ($20-30 entrees) to underseason a vinaigrette.

Thinking we might indulge in dessert elsewhere that evening, we wrapped up our meal at Vic's.  It was enjoyable overall, with attentive and friendly service, a relaxing and welcoming ambiance, and a chef who knows his scallops.  I would return for those; I'd stick with the server's recommended dishes; and I'd seek out the historic Civil War map that I somehow missed during my visit. 

Dinner for two, including tax and tip, was $112.

Restaurant Info:
Vic's on the River
26 East Bay Street
Savannah, Georgia
912-721-1000
http://www.vicsontheriver.com/

Savannah: Mrs. Wilkes' Dining Room

The beauty of Savannah lies not only in its historic squares and gracious Southern hospitality, but also in its quirky characters and unpredictability.  Who would have thought that during last week's 24-hour birthday getaway with my friend the Mississippi Maven that we would luck into a no-wait table at Mrs. Wilkes' Dining Room?  

Formerly known as Mrs. Wilkes' Boarding House, Mrs. Wilkes' is famous for its down-home Southern cuisine and the line of people willing to wait an ungodly amount of time to feast on it.  Hubmeister, who often goes to Savannah for business, said he has never dined there because he refuses to get in the line that snakes daily down a picturesque residential street. 

Figuratively and literally, the sun was shining on me and the Maven when we walked up Wednesday afternoon a little after 1.  No line!  A couple of people were waiting inside and the host told us a table would be ready momentarily.  Are you kidding?   Christmas had come early. 

We were told to enter an adjacent dining room and grab a seat at the second table on the right.  Unbeknownst to us, this place serves family style and you sit at a large round table with your brand-new family of 10, comprised of tourists and locals alike.  The food is already on the table and it's a feast of Southern fare like you could only imagine.  I counted 17 side dishes and four entrees.  As soon as one bowl is emptied, another is brought to the table.  You pass the bevy of bowls among your new family, and everyone prepares to bust a gut.

I can't begin to evaluate every dish, but I'll share my thoughts on a few.  Best of the bunch were the fried chicken and biscuits.  The chicken was crispy-crunchy outside and so moist inside that when I pulled off some golden skin, the piping-hot juices were pooling.  These birds also had just the right amount of salty essence.

You know about my love affair with the biscuit and may recall how I recently wrote that biscuit recipes vary from one place to the next.  Mrs. Wilkes' has a unique biscuit and one of the best.  It isn't gargantuan, it isn't too buttery, it isn't too tangy, it isn't doughy, and it isn't round.   It's a square of warm, tender fluff that dissolves on your tongue. 

After leafing through one of Mrs. Wilkes' cookbooks - on sale at the restaurant and throughout the city - I noted that her biscuits combine self-rising flour with additional baking powder, blend buttermilk and whole milk, combine shortening and butter, and include a touch of water.  According to the recipe, they are hand formed, but the restaurant serves perfect squares and produces such huge quantities that I assume they are cut.  Whatever they do to them, they are amazing.  Corn muffins were also on the bread plate, but if I had tried them, I wouldn't have had room for a second biscuit and you know I went for two.

Besides fried chicken, the entrees included beef stew, barbecued pork, and meat loaf.  The stew and meat loaf were nothing to write home about and I didn't sample the pork.  Popular at our table, the meat loaf and chicken plates were the ones replenished. 

On the vegetable front, my favorite was the collard greens.  Mississippi Maven enjoyed the creamed corn.  The succotash, full of okra, was a big hit with everyone. 

These are the other sides I remember:   mac and cheese (okay but lukewarm and clumpy), cornbread stuffing, white rice, gravy, pole beans (wilted and tasty), lima beans (the usual), black-eyed peas, baked beans (nobody touched them), potato salad (very pickly in true Southern fashion), Cajun sausage and dirty rice (not my favorite and a bit out of sync with the rest of the menu), rutabagas (mashed, no thanks but you rarely see them and some people - Hubmeister - love them), sweet potatoes (mashed, didn't try them but they were a beautiful shade of sunset-orange), yellow squash (flavorful), green cabbage (didn't try because my plate was too full), cucumber salad (Mississippi Maven gave it a big thumbs up), and a noodle and English pea dish (didn't look appetizing but one lady at our table loved it). 

Dessert was a choice of banana pudding or fruit cobbler.  I sampled a typical banana pudding loaded with crushed vanilla wafers, which both the Maven and I thought would have been better if accompanied by a cup of hot coffee to cut the extreme sweetness, but that's not part of the meal.  You are dining on the ground floor of a lovely three-story 1870 red-brick house, once a true boardinghouse, and you are getting a boardinghouse-style meal served with sweet tea, unsweetened tea on request, or water - something to keep in mind if you are a choosy diner. 

Go to Mrs. Wilkes' to experience cooking like a real Southern grandma would put on the family table - authentic fried chicken and biscuits and vegetables that have been seasoned with love and bacon grease.  Don't go with special requests and gourmet expectations.  Go for the camaraderie, and go hungry.

Restaurant hours are 11 a.m. till 2 p.m. Monday through Friday.  Price range $16.  Reservations and charge cards are not accepted.

Restaurant Info:
Mrs. Wilkes' Boarding House
107 West Jones Street
Savannah, Georgia
912-232-5997
http://www.mrswilkes.com/menu.html

Pig Out on Drunken Ham

If you had time to check the blogosphere last week, you were a step ahead of me.  I hosted the family Thanksgiving festivities and had houseguests for several days.  I did lots of cooking, had a few hits and misses, and over the next few posts thought I'd share with you some of the family favorites.  

Here's a recipe you might want to try over the Christmas holiday if you decide to purchase a ham.  I can thank Southern Living Christmas Cookbook for this dish, which I also made for Easter.  It makes the house smell divine, serves an army of folks, and tastes wonderful.  If that isn't enough, it's also easy peasy.   The day before the Thanksgiving kitchen camp-out, I needed simplicity so I served it with baked beans, coleslaw and homemade biscuits.

Golden Glazed Ham
(Southern Living Christmas Cookbook)

1 (7-pound) fully cooked ham half  (I had a 10-pound spiral-sliced ham half)
2 C firmly packed brown sugar, divided
2 (12-ounce) cans beer
2 T. honey
2 T. Dijon mustard
1/2 C bourbon

Place ham, fat side up, in a deep roasting pan.  Press 1 cup brown sugar onto all sides of ham.  Pour beer into pan.  Insert meat thermometer into ham, making sure it does not touch fat or bone.  Cover and bake at 325 degrees for 30 minutes.  Remove 2 cups drippings from pan.

Combine remaining 1 cup brown sugar, honey, mustard, and bourbon in a saucepan; cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, until sugar melts.  Baste ham with sugar mixture.  Return ham to oven; bake, uncovered, 1 hour or until meat thermometer registers 140 degrees, basting with reserved drippings and sugar mixture every 10 minutes.   Let stand 10 minutes before slicing.  Serves 14. 

Note:  Both times I made this, it took longer than an hour, but don't overcook the ham.  It's already cooked; you're simply heating it through.  I put my (impeccably clean) finger down one of the center slices and when it felt hot enough to me, I removed the ham from the oven.   How's that for precision?  Also, stay on top of the basting to keep it moist.  It's worth it.  Leftovers make great sandwiches and ham and eggs; or, if you're like us, you can yank it off the bone and eat it out of hand.  Pig out!

Belly Up to the Bar at Sushi Tsu

Perched at the bar sloshing down a ginormous, frosty Sapporo, I chatted with Hubmeister about my top 10 favorite movies.

It was Friday night at the sushi bar.  The chefs were busy creating roll after roll, going about their exacting business as kimono-clad servers barked orders, two gay guys next to us sat scooping up rainbow rolls, and the post-workweek celebration had begun for a couple of professional types getting blitzed across the bar. 

When Hubmeister and I go to Sushi Tsu, we sit at the bar because he likes it there.  It's not that the restaurant doesn't look inviting - with its warm red and gold hues and a choice of either teppanyaki or standard dining tables - there's just something intriguing about eating at the bar. 

We are certainly not there to converse with the chefs, whose accents are so strong that when our chef presented one of the rolls, I looked confused enough that he gave up repeating himself, picked up the sushi menu and pointed out which one it was.  Oh, Philly roll!

That was part of Hubmeister's order.  I had a crunchy, spicy tuna roll and a spider (soft-shell crab) roll.  Hub loves the ice-cold house salad with the tangy ginger dressing, so he had that as well, and we split an order of gyoza.  The tender, meat-filled dumplings were fabulous and I could eat several orders of them and call that my entire meal.  They had a pan-fried crispy sear on one side and a steamed soft exterior on the other, and the accompanying salty dipping sauce made them as irresistibly dunkable as donuts into coffee. 

One thing is apparent when you dine at the bar and that is the just-reeled-in freshness of the fish.  It looked gorgeous laid out in front of us in its icy bed.  The squid glistened, its little suction cups looking as if they might still muster a mean grip.  The white fish, salmon and tuna practically sparkled.  What a difference from the ashen, "previously frozen" supermarket fare.  My rolls were scrumptious, crunchy as promised, lending a great textural contrast to the slightly warm and pliable sushi rice.

Perhaps the fun of sitting at the bar lies in its communal nature, where people from all walks of life share a common pleasure.  A melting pot of humanity comes together to appreciate the chefs and delight in their edible art.  It's a place to discuss carefree topics like your favorite movies, a happy spot to relax and expand your culinary horizons. 

Restaurant Info:                                                               
Sushi Tsu Japanese Steakhouse & Sushi Bar
15363 Amberly Drive
Tampa
813-910-9404
http://www.sushitsu.com/

Baking a Better Biscuit

Mmmm....biscuits.  Is there any better breakfast food on a cool fall morning than a homemade biscuit?  For me, biscuits are the bomb, especially when they turn out towering, moist and flaky. 

Son of Hubmeister shares my fondness for biscuits.  He has sampled all of my attempts, which have been numerous because I can't leave biscuit recipes alone.  My official biscuit (and pancake) guinea pig, he has become a pretty good judge of them in my house and beyond.

On our recent trip to Georgia, we were starving and pulled off the highway for breakfast at Cracker Barrel, where I ordered eggs and biscuits.  I thought their biscuits were bread-y inside and overly buttery outside, but I liked their loftiness.  Son of Hub said he didn't care about the mile-high rise, agreed that the Barrel's product had a breadlike consistency and said he liked mine better.  No fool, this kid.  Son of Hub is going to make some woman very happy one day!

While in Athens, we had a quick breakfast at a college hangout called Daily Bread.  Son of Hub ripped off a piece of his biscuit and said, "Mom, taste this."  Sweet.  Neither of us cared for the sweet taste, especially when it was sandwiching eggs.  If you travel and order biscuits at a number of restaurants, you will notice how the biscuit's taste and texture change as often as the landscape. 

On the home front, I made these fine specimens last weekend.  Because I wanted more poof to a recipe on which I made the notation, "Best Biscuits Ever," I added an additional 1/2 teaspoon of baking powder to the original measurements.  

I cracked open one of my few remaining jars of spring strawberry preserves and relished a bit of biscuit bliss.  

Give thanks for the Almighty Biscuit and make these next week.  They will take about 15 minutes to prepare and, except for buttermilk, you probably have the ingredients in your fridge and pantry.  Go get you some buttermilk!  My recipe is specific because I have discovered that a ton of factors affect the outcome of biscuits, from the brand of flour and baking powder to the pan used for baking.  

Buttery Buttermilk Biscuits
(Food and Wine, February 2007)

2 C all-purpose unbleached flour (King Arthur)
2 1/2 tsp. baking powder (fresh Rumford Double-Acting)
1 tsp. salt
1 stick unsalted butter, cut into cubes and chilled
3/4 C buttermilk (Friendship Light)

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees.  In a large bowl, combine 2 cups of flour with the baking powder and salt.  Using a pastry blender or two knives, cut in the cubed butter until the mixture resembles coarse meal.  Add the buttermilk and GENTLY stir with a fork or wooden spoon until a soft dough forms.  Turn the dough onto a lightly floured work surface and knead 2 or 3 times, just until it comes together.  If the dough is falling apart and crumbling, add a touch more buttermilk.  A touch!

With floured hands, pat the dough out until it's about an inch thick.  This is when I let the dough rest a couple of minutes.  Using a lightly floured biscuit cutter or the rim of a standard drinking glass, stamp out biscuits as close together as possible.  Don't twist the cutter as you stamp; go straight down.  Pat the dough scraps together and stamp out more biscuits.  You'll end up with 5 or 6 biscuits.  Handle the biscuit dough as little as possible.  It's as temperamental as pastry, if you ask me. 

Transfer the biscuits to a 9-inch round cake pan.  Place biscuits, touching, in the pan.  If you like your biscuits with crispier sides, place them a few inches apart on a sheet pan.  Bake for about 20 minutes, until the biscuits are golden.  Brush hot biscuits with additional melted butter, if desired.

Note:  In an amazing coincidence, today I saw someone making biscuits on "Martha Stewart."  The chef, who swears by White Lily Flour, doesn't pat or roll the dough after mixing it but forms each biscuit roughly by hand.  More experimentation awaits.

Falafel Find: Byblos Pitas

One of my favorite bloggers in Atlanta, The Blissful Glutton (http://www.blissfulglutton.com/), got me in the mood for falafel.  Blissful takes awesome pictures and she recently posted an article about a pita place she loves in the ATL.  Her photos of falafel and other Middle-Eastern delights made my mouth water. 

Unlike the Glutton, I am neither an adept photographer nor a falafel expert.  The first time I tried the fried chick pea concoction was in London, where almost every streetside restaurant claimed to have THE BEST falafel.  The Food and Loathing family looked at each other and wondered, "What the heck is falafel?" 

Outside the British Museum at a fascinatingly unfriendly little restaurant - you read it right, I said unfriendly, as in these people were mad at the world - I ordered it.  And it was okay.  Probably should have gone across the street to the other guy who claimed his was the best falafel in all the land.  Unlike the Falafel Commando, the competition might have offered a greeting, forced a smile or feigned customer appreciation.  Picture the Soup Nazi on "Seinfeld."

After reading Blissful's blog, I decided to order a falafel appetizer the other night at Acropolis.  Again, I was unimpressed; it was passable but lacked something. 

Yesterday, it was time to do some comparison shopping.  Maybe falafel is not my thing.  I stopped by Byblos Pitas near USF. 

Thank you, Byblos.  I knew I would like falafel.  These were loaded with garlic and parsley flavor and included a spicy kick.  Maybe ground red pepper?  The patties were fried to a golden crisp and stuffed into a pita with my choice of toppings.
 

I asked the guy at the counter to suggest toppings because they have several sauces, dips, veggies and pickles displayed.  I figure the folks who make this stuff every day know which flavor combinations work well.  I ended up with really fresh cucumbers, lettuce, tomatoes and onions drizzled with a ladle of tzatziki sauce (my request).  The college kid helping me was pleasant and patiently answered all of my questions.

This is a quick-bite or takeout type of place with a bright and cheery atmosphere.  A full menu of Mediterranean-inspired pita choices is available, as well as soups and salads.

Cost:  $5
Verdict:  I'll be back.

Restaurant Info:
Byblos Pitas
2734 University Square Drive
Tampa
813-849-5050
http://www.byblospitas.com/

Deliciously Modern: Pelagia Trattoria

"All of our pasta is made in-house," explained the cordial server. 

Okay, stop right there.  No need to go any further.  Who cares about the salmon?  When I hear homemade pasta, I swoop down on it like a vulture on a dead armadillo. 

That's exactly what I did Saturday night at Pelagia Trattoria, the highly acclaimed restaurant located inside the Renaissance Hotel at International Plaza.  How often do you find a noteworthy restaurant located inside a hotel?  We actually have a couple of them in Tampa, but let's face it, most hotel restaurants are mediocre and people dine at them out of convenience or necessity, not as a final destination. 

Oh, the lucky guests getting room service from Pelagia, or dropping in for a convenient dinner.  What they'll discover are carefully executed Italian dishes and first-rate service.  That's the kind of surprise I like when I travel, but traveling we were not.  We are fortunate to have this fine trattoria right in our back yard.

To my dismay, we comprised one of only a handful of occupied tables on a Saturday night at 7.  This is a crying shame, and I'll tell you why:  the food, service and atmosphere are a top-notch change of pace from the ordinary Tampa offerings.

As we selected a bottle of wine, we munched on crispy bread sticks and a couple of Italian breads that were accompanied by a pate of ground olives, herbs and citrus.  I'm all for shaking up the usual bread-and-butter routine.  My palate was primed.

For appetizers, I kept the olive theme going by ordering crunchy fried olives stuffed with three meats, and Hubmeister selected an oven-dried tomato, goat cheese and pesto-topped garlic baguette.  In the local food world, word has spread about these olives, so I knew they would be on my personal menu.  Salty and crunchy, they are tasty and would be awesome with a cocktail.  

Next time, I'll pair gin with these babies.

I recommend them, especially if you are having drinks at the bar, but I wouldn't pair them with a glass of red wine again.  Olive pate and olive appetizer equal olive overkill.  Amateur mistake on my part.

Hubmeister's appetizer was splendid, with warm, creamy goat cheese acting as a sassy conduit for the basil pesto and tangy tomato.  My blurry photo doesn't do it justice. 

We both ordered Caesar salads.  Have you ever received a present but you didn't have the foggiest idea what it was or what to do with it?  That's how I felt when this salad innovation was served. 



On the left are focaccia croutons preparing for takeoff.

 "Have you ever had one of these before?" the server inquired. 

"Uh, no, how do we eat them?" I asked, as I stared at what the server described as a deconstructed Caesar salad.  

"You can eat it with your hands or just dump it out on the plate and mix it up like a normal Caesar," she offered. 

Oh boy, I love to play with my food.  I was delighted, and Hubmeister was game, too.  This is what going out to dinner is all about.  We separated the warm, slightly oiled and charred baby romaine leaves, rolled up part of the fresh Parmesan, broke off some giant crouton and proceeded to dunk our lettuce wraps into creamy Caesar dressing.  On the menu this dish is called Caesar Fondue.  I have a feeling I will be "fonduing" this again.

Next came the homemade pasta.

Did someone say pumpkin gnocchi?  That would be me.  I had Pumpkin Gnocchi with Barbera Braised Short Rib Ragout.  The server described this as a wintry dish, and that nails it perfectly.  This rustic and homey creation is guaranteed to warm you on a chilly night.  Void of the big globs of fat usually found in short ribs, and chopped in a small dice, the fork-tender rib meat conveyed the intoxicating essence of its red-wine braise and generously encircled pillows of pumpkin-and-potato pasta.  Have no fear of a strong pumpkin flavor.  I couldn't detect the pumpkin at all.  Maybe it lends an underlying sweetness to the dish, which reminded me of a pasta version of roast beef and potatoes - a really good stew, with an incredible gravy. 

Hubmeister had Pappardelle with Traditional Bolognese and Pecorino Cheese.  A rich and meaty sauce accentuated broad ribbons of hefty pasta.  This evoked nods of praise and I had to remind Hubs that he wouldn't be sent to bed early if he didn't clean his plate, but there was no stopping him. 

Bring on dessert!  I couldn't eat another bite, but in the interest of the blog (yep, this is a good excuse) we split the chef's creation for the evening - a lemon cheesecake accompanied by a cherry-lemon sauce.  Except for a novel biscotti crust, the cake itself was a bit dry and unremarkable, but the lemon sorbet that topped it was a pleasant twist and a nice bite for those of us who could barely budge from the lovely environment. 

As with its cuisine, Pelagia is not what one expects in terms of typical Italian restaurant ambiance.  You know the kind I mean, where you half-expect to see Frank Sinatra and the Rat Pack emerge from a dark and mysterious private dining room.  No, this space is smart and colorful, artfully lit with rainbows of pendant lights.  Seating is comfortable, though not intimate, but private dining is available.  An open kitchen and adjacent bar span the length of the restaurant.  Because it was slow, the dining room was quiet but I can envision plenty of action and a very different environment on a busy night.  

Also open for breakfast and lunch, Pelagio would be a swank venue for business dining.  Personally, I'm planning a break in my Christmas shopping to sample their pizza.  If shopping proves laborious, I'll be in the lounge with a gin and tonic and fried olives.  You can access the restaurant easily from the mall; it's just outside the food court and you can't miss the hotel.  Valet parking is available and complimentary. 

Restaurant Info:
Pelagia Trattoria
4200 Jim Walter Boulevard
Tampa
813-313-3235
http://www.pelagiatrattoria.com/

A Sad Cuban: The Cuban Sandwich Cafe

Bring up the Cuban sandwich around here and everybody has an opinion.   

People in Tampa love their Cubans and when you move away, you realize how much you do too.  It's a staple of the Tampa food landscape, a sandwich that blankets the city like pawn shops and stripper bars.  You can get them anywhere, from delicatessens and Cuban restaurants to bakeries, grocery stores, meat markets and gas stations.  The Cuban sandwich is old hat in these parts and, unfortunately, that's what some of them taste like.

For my readers far and wide who are unfamiliar with the Cuban's ingredients, the traditional sandwich consists of fresh Cuban bread, seasoned, roasted pork, ham, salami, Swiss cheese, dill pickles and yellow mustard.  After layering, the sandwich is pressed flat in a sandwich press, thereby melting the cheese and crisping the bread to a delightful, noisy crunch.  Over the years, the sandwich has been bastardized to include lettuce, tomatoes and mayonnaise, so many establishments inquire if you would like these additions and also ask if you wish to have it pressed.   If you don't get it pressed and add all of the other toppings, just order a sub from the Publix deli and call it a day.  But don't call it a Cuban!  

The president of the Columbia Restaurant, Richard Gonzmart, was so obsessed with re-creating the Cuban sandwich of his youth that he embarked on a quest to locate the perfect oven for roasting pork.  He purchased a $30,000 combination steam and heat oven, which he had installed in his landmark Ybor City restaurant, where he now claims to serve the authentic Cuban sandwich, complete with the roasted pork of his dreams, imported peppercorn-filled Genoa salami, and fresh ham marinated in sour orange and garlic.

A true Cuban sandwich is not what I sampled today when I picked up some takeout from The Cuban Sandwich Cafe on Florida Avenue.  Here are eight reasons why I won't be returning to this eatery for my Cubans:

First offense, mayo on the bread.  What are they thinking?  Second, a barely-there layer of pork that had an off taste.  Unpleasant and probably a good thing there was so little of it.  Third, run-of-the-mill ham that could have come from the grocery store deli counter or my own refrigerator.  Fourth, a couple of paper-thin circles of wilted dill pickle.  Fifth, one razor-thin slice of spiceless, boring salami, cut in half, to cover at least an 8-inch sandwich.  Sixth, ditto for the single piece of Swiss cheese.   Seventh, the absence of all moisture and a shortage of mustard.  Eighth, the bread was okay but should have been brushed with butter before getting pressed.   At least that would have added some flavor to this disappointing imitation.

Okay, eight is enough!

Cost:  $4.85. 

Verdict:  Cheap, but not good.

Restaurant Info:

The Cuban Sandwich Cafe

10434 N. Florida Avenue

Tampa

813-932-0998

http://www.thecubansandwichshop.com/

Luck of the Irish Potato Soup

I don't know how you can be considered lucky when your primary source of nourishment - potatoes, potatoes and more potatoes - disappears from the landscape and your country's population gets decimated by a giant spud famine, but the Irish have certainly proven to be a resilient lot.  Perhaps the secret lies in refreshing pints of Harp and Guinness, not to mention having a good sense of humor and pubs aplenty.

Potatoes must be in the blood.  Have you ever met an Irish person who didn't like them?  Take my mother, for instance.  Only half-Irish, Mom's veins are surely coursing with potato starch (in addition to candy, ice cream sundaes, bacon and fried eggs).  Mom is the reigning Queen of Meat and Potatoes and damn proud of it.  At age 84 and slim throughout her life, she laughs in the face of carb counters, exercise advocates and nutritionists.  Her German mother, Supreme Queen of Meat and Potatoes, lived till her mid-90s, dining on roast beef, potatoes, liver dumplings and sugar-coated apple strudel packaged in a foil tin.  Unfair as it may seem, sometimes you are just blessed with good genes.

This brings me back to Mom.  I have no doubt that she could survive on tubers alone.  Baked, mashed, fried, scalloped, roasted, you name it.  As part of her "spudelicious" indulgences, Mom enjoys the occasional bowl of potato soup.   I remember making a classic French version for her a few years ago, which she found too thin.  She came home from Publix with a can of potato soup, and she dumped it in my fussy creation.  Mom likes it thick!  The Irish can be picky about their spuds, and the less gussied up the better.

Too bad she wasn't here last night for the hearty version I threw together for dinner.

I'll have to make it for her when she comes to visit in a few weeks, or she might want to make this splendid soup herself.  In her honor, I topped it with chopped bacon and grated Cheddar cheese.  The salty, smoky bacon and the sharp bite of Cheddar add to the creamy lusciousness of the leek, onion and potato puree.   I got lucky when I monkeyed with this recipe. 

Long live Mom, meat and potatoes!

Luck of the Irish Potato Soup
(Inspired by Irish Potato Soup, St. Anthony's Family Cookbook)

2 pounds potatoes (about 7 medium russets), peeled and sliced
2 onions, sliced
3 leeks, cleaned and sliced, white and some green parts
1 small carrot, peeled and diced
1 bay leaf
A few sprigs of fresh parsley
A few sprigs of fresh thyme or a 1/4 tsp of dried thyme
Salt and Pepper
2 pints (32-ounce carton) low-sodium chicken stock
1 pint whole milk
2 ounces butter
4 strips bacon, fried crisp and crumbled (for garnish)
1/2 C sharp Cheddar cheese, grated (for garnish)
1 T fresh chives, chopped, or 1 T dried chives (for garnish)

In a Dutch oven or large saucepan, melt butter over medium heat.  Add onions and leeks and cook until tender but not brown. 

Add potatoes and carrot.  Stir in the stock and milk.   Place the thyme, parsley and bay leaf in cheese cloth and tie together; add to the pot.  Salt and pepper to taste. 

Simmer gently for about an hour, until potatoes are tender.  In batches, transfer the mixture to a food processor and process until smooth.  Alternatively, you can use an emulsion blender, or a regular blender, to puree the mixture until smooth.  Return the mixture to the pan and heat through. 

Garnish each serving with cheese, chives and bacon.

Foodie Headline of the Week

Happy Halloween! 




This festive display greets customers outside Trader Joe's, Norcross, Ga.



No contest, here's last week's headline winner:

Idaho Family's Pumpkin Stand Out of Its Gourds

http://hosted.ap.org/dynamic/stories/U/US_ODD_PUMPKIN_STAND_SQUASHED?SITE=FLTAM&SECTION=ENTERTAINMENT

Scare Up Some Pasta

Once upon a time, I went to a neighborhood Halloween party in my former 'hood in Georgia and contributed to a scary-food buffet.  I don't recall exactly what snacks I made, but they looked incredibly gross.  My kids were even grossed out and they watched how I made these creepy, yet tasty, morsels, knowing the ingredients were nothing unusual.  I think monster eyeballs was the name of one of the creations.  I was impressed by the hideousness of my offerings, and the neighborhood kids were, too.  Turns out they thought they looked too horrible to eat!  Hardly anyone at the party touched my stuff (don't you hate when that happens?) and I vowed never to make deliberately ugly food again.  

Well, I broke that vow this week when I prepared  Michael Chiarello's recipe for Spaghettini Cooked in Red Wine with Spicy Broccoli Rabe, which I ripped from the pages of the Oct. 31 issue of Wine Spectator.  Michael, a Napa Valley vintner, "Top Chef Master" runner-up and host of "Easy Entertaining" on Food Network and Cooking Channel, had a nice feature story that included a few of his recipes that "reinterpret Italian ideas with California ingredients and a modern American style."   I had never made any of his stuff before and this looked promising, albeit revolting.  I think the full bottle of Zinfandel it required convinced me to try it.

Presented in our big pasta bowl, this dish puzzled the starving 'Meisters. Studying it quizzically, Son of Hubmeister threatened to bolt for the peanut butter and jelly.  I reassured the skeptics that the pasta had cooked in a bottle of red wine and, using Ina's favorite phrase - "How bad can that be?"-  I started plating it up.  It's a yummy break from pasta monotony, and I can vouch for it being a great leftover, either hot or cold.   Despite remarking that it looked like worms, Son of Hubmeister wolfed it down.  Mmmmm....worms....perfect for Halloween. 



The worms crawl in, the worms crawl out.

Spaghettini Cooked in Red Wine With Spicy Broccoli Rabe
(Wine Spectator)

1 1/2 pounds broccoli rabe (rapini)
1 pound spaghetti or spaghettini
1 bottle (750 ml) dry red wine, preferably Zinfandel
1 T. sugar
1/3 C extra-virgin olive oil
2 T. (about 4 cloves) garlic, peeled and sliced
1 tsp. Calabrian chili paste or 1/4 tsp. red pepper flakes
1 tsp. kosher salt or sea salt, preferably gray salt
1/2 tsp. freshly ground black pepper
1/2 C. grated pecorino Romano cheese

1.  In a large pot of salted boiling water, cook the broccoli rabe for about 3 minutes.  Transfer the broccoli rabe to a baking sheet and spread it out to cool.

2. In the same boiling water, cook the spaghettini, stirring occasionally, for 2 minutes if fresh, 3 to 5 minutes if dried; if using spaghetti, cook 2 minutes if fresh, 6 to 8 minutes if dried. (You'll do the remaining cooking in the Zinfandel.)  Reserve 1 cup of the pasta water, then drain the pasta and set it aside.  Return the empty pasta pot to the stove.

3.  Add the wine and sugar to the pasta pot.  Bring to a boil over high heat and cook to reduce by half, 8 to 10 minutes.  Add the pasta to the pot and gently stir with tongs to prevent the pasta from sticking.  Boil over high heat, stirring occasionally, until most of the liquid is absorbed and the pasta is al dente, about 3 minutes for spaghettini and 4 or 5 minutes for spaghetti.  Tasting tells you when your pasta is ready better than the clock can.

4.  While the pasta cooks in the wine, heat a large, deep saute pan or skillet over high heat.  Add the oil, reduce the heat to medium-low, and saute the garlic until pale golden, about 3 minutes.  Add the chile paste or red pepper flakes, blanched broccoli rabe, and salt and pepper. 

5.  Cook, stirring occasionally, for 1 to 2 minutes.  Stir in 1/2 cup of the reserved pasta water.  Add the broccoli rabe mixture to the pasta, toss gently, and transfer to individual pasta bowls or one large platter.  Sprinkle with cheese.  Serves 8 as a first course. 

Notes:  This would be a pain in the butt to serve as a first course, unless all of your other courses were ready to go.  This will only be an entree at my house and it serves at least 5 adults.  I would add extra red pepper flakes next time and cut back a little on the olive oil.  Before using, trim the stringy stalks from the broccoli rabe.  Michael didn't mention this, but I would definitely get rid of them unless you like stalks.  The leaves are nice; they taste a lot like sauteed fresh spinach.  I had 1/2 cup of the pasta water leftover; why he lists a full cup in the ingredients is a mystery to me.

Zagat Reveals Tampa's Top Restaurants

By now you know that I'm a fan of the Zagat ratings, so it won't come as a big surprise when I tell you how psyched I was yesterday to read in Jeff Houck's Tampa Trib food blog that he had possession of Zagat's America's Top Restaurants 2011.  It features diner ratings and reviews of over 1,500 of the top restaurants around the country, and Jeff, the Trib's food editor, was none too happy with some of the restaurant omissions in the Bay area.

The big surprise to me was that Donatello beat Armani's for a place in the top 10.  We dined at Donatello a few times - over 15 years ago - and it was very good, but we haven't thought about the place since moving back.  It is sort of a forgotten landmark on S. Dale Mabry.  Nobody in the area ever mentions it anymore, but I bet they will now.   Armani's did, however, make the list of recommended establishments. 

Then, of course, there's Bern's and Mise en Place.  I've dined at Bern's a few times, but again, years ago.  Mise en Place was a wonderful anniversary destination a couple of years back.  It's been around a long time and manages to stay innovative; I'm glad to see its name on the list.  Pane Rustica, which I reviewed here, also made the top 10.  Awesome!   Roy's and Capital Grille, both upscale chains, round out the Tampa spots listed. 

Is it fair to include the chains?  I don't know.  Are they among the top restaurants in Tampa?  If so, then it's fair.  What does it say about the food scene in Tampa when Bonefish Grill joins Armani's and SideBern's on the list of "noteworthy restaurants?"  Good for the locally based OSI corporation for getting them there, but I'm shaking my head at that one.  Where is the creativity?  Bang Bang Shrimp is the same here as it is anywhere else.  Is this list representative of the best we have to offer?  I think not.   

See Jeff's blog, The Stew, for the complete list, which also includes a few Sarasota and Clearwater eateries, and for his commentary about who's missing.
http://www.tboblogs.com/index.php/life/comments/zagat-names-tampa-bays-americas-top-restaurants-for-2011-uh-i-think-you-mis/

Apples #3: Rustic Apple Tartlets

Time for another apple recipe!  This is a great one if you are having a dinner party.  It meets three crucial criteria for entertaining:  you can prepare it in advance, it is delicious, and it makes a nice presentation. 

Have some napkins handy - your guests will be drooling over this one.

These free-form tartlets are basically apple pie without the runny mess or breaking crust that sometimes screws up the apple pie presentation.   I love this tender, moist and flaky crust!  It must be the cream cheese addition.  It required some patience and lots of ins and outs from the fridge, but the end result justified the extra effort.   If you hate working with pastry, skip it.  Just sayin'.  But this was the first time I attempted these tartlets and they turned out beautifully, so try them when you feel mellow and creative.  Do not attempt while experiencing PMS!  You know what I'm saying.

I discovered this recipe in The Best of America's Test Kitchen 2008.  Since snagging this cookbook off the library shelves several weeks ago, I have renewed it and find myself consulting it often.  Have you ever caught the PBS show of the same name?  It offers practical advice, which I now find sorely lacking on the food channels.  I like this cookbook because it gives the reasoning behind procedures and techniques, and it recommends products that the chefs have tested, such as pots, pans, bake ware, flours, canned and jarred products, etc.  Every year they publish a compilation of their best recipes and this is one of them.  Treat yourself and go for it! 

Rustic Free-Form Apple Tartlets
(The Best of America's Test Kitchen 2008)
Makes 6 tartlets

Dough
1 1/4 C unbleached all-purpose flour
2 T. sugar
1/4 tsp. salt
8 T. (1 stick) unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch pieces and chilled
4 oz. cream cheese, cut into 1/2- inch pieces and chilled
1-2 T. ice water
2 tsp. fresh lemon juice

Filling
1 1/4 pounds Granny Smith apples (about 3 small), peeled, cored, and cut into 1/4-inch-thick slices
1 1/4 pounds McIntosh apples (about 3 small), peeled, cored, and cut into 1/4-inch-thick-slices
2 T. fresh lemon juice
1/4 C plus 2 T. sugar
1/4 tsp. ground cinnamon
2 egg whites, lightly beaten, for brushing

For the Dough:

1.  Process the flour, sugar and salt in a food processor until combined.  Add the butter and cream cheese and pulse until the mixture resembles coarse cornmeal, about 10 one-second pulses.  Turn the mixture into a medium bowl.

2.  Sprinkle one tablespoon water and the lemon juice over the mixture.  Stir and press the dough together using a stiff rubber spatula until the dough sticks together.  If the dough does not come together, stir in the remaining one tablespoon water until the dough forms large clumps and no dry flour remains.  (I had to use the second tablespoon of water.)  Turn the dough out onto the counter and flatten into a rough disk.  Cut the disk into six equal pieces using a chef's knife.  Flatten each piece into a three-inch disk.  Transfer the disks in a single layer to a flat dinner plate.  Wrap the plate in plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes before rolling.

Roll out each disk between two floured sheets of parchment.

3.  Remove the plate from the refrigerator and roll each piece between two pieces of lightly floured parchment paper to a six-inch circle.  (If the dough becomes soft and/or sticky, return it to the refrigerator until firm.)  Remove and discard the top pieces of parchment paper.  Stack the rounds on the plate with the parchment between each layer.  Wrap the plate in plastic wrap and refrigerate while preparing the fruit.

For the Filling:

4.  Adjust two oven racks to the upper-middle and lower-middle positions and heat the oven to 400 degrees.  Toss the apples with the lemon juice, 1/4 cup of the sugar, and cinnamon.  Arrange the parchment-lined dough rounds in a single layer on the counter.  Arrange approximately one cup of the apple slices, thick edges out, in a circular round on each dough mound, leaving a one-inch border.

When you mold it with your hands, the apples will fill in any holes in your layering.

5.  Fold the edges of the dough over the fruit.  With cupped hands, gently press the dough to the filling, reinforcing the shape and compacting the apples.  Slide three tartlets, still on top of the parchment, onto each of two baking sheets.




Slide each tartlet onto a baking sheet, three to a sheet.


6.  Bake until pale golden brown, about 15 minutes.  Brush the surface of the crusts with the beaten egg whites and sprinkle the apples evenly with the remaining two tablespoons of sugar.  Return to the oven, rotating the baking sheets, and bake until the crust is deep golden brown and the apples are tender, about 15 minutes longer.  Cool the tartlets on the baking sheets for five minutes, then transfer to a wire rack and cool until warm or room temperature before serving.

A little patience can result in a lot of love.

(This is one of the things I love about this cookbook:  it includes hazard warnings and things you can do ahead of time.)

*Where Things Can Go Wrong - The amounts of cream cheese and butter used in this dough make it soft and delicate.  For easiest handling, make sure that your ingredients are cold and that your kitchen is cool.

*What You Can Do Ahead - The tartlets can be cooled completely, wrapped tightly in plastic wrap, and stored at room temperature for up to two days.  The disks of dough can be wrapped tightly in plastic wrap and refrigerated for up to two days, or frozen up to a month.  Thaw frozen dough in the refrigerator.  Before rolling, let frozen dough stand at room temperature for 15 minutes. 

Having lots of people to dinner?  You can double this recipe, making two batches of dough and baking the tartlets in two batches.

Notes:  Spruce up the presentation with a sprinkle of powdered sugar, a dollop of whipped cream, a drizzle of caramel sauce, or a scoop of ice cream.

Eating Up Athens: Five & Ten

Food and Loathing and the 'Meisters took to the road last weekend to see Daughtress in a play at UGA in Athens, Ga.  For a small college town, Athens is surprisingly foodie friendly.  Tucked into the nooks and crannies of 19th-century brick buildings are numerous independently owned bistros, pubs, diners, coffee shops, pizza joints, dive bars and, yes, fine-dining establishments. 

I love the vibe in Athens, and the town's plethora of noshing alternatives satisfies a colorful mix of folks responsible for this vibrant scene:  artsy intellectuals, prepped-out fraternity and sorority kids, inebriated idiots, scholastic nerds, aging hipsters and musicians, grungy street people, and grungy street-people wannabes.  We peg the wannabes as wealthy kids from Atlanta 'burbs who strive to look impoverished and unwashed.  Not to be overlooked in this multifarious populace are obnoxiously enthusiastic Bulldog alumni and parents who demand good grub while visiting their studious offspring.  Since that's my category, allow me to jump to our fine-dining experience last Saturday night.

While living in Georgia, I read about Five & Ten and its lauded chef, Hugh Acheson (named Best New Chef in 2002 by Food & Wine magazine).  This restaurant was ranked "worth the drive" from Atlanta - in fact, it was the AJC's restaurant of the year in 2007 - and since Athens is an hour's drive from the ATL, I knew I had to eat here at some point during my kid's college days.  Saturday night was my second time, the first being an evening last winter.  That night I ordered a prix fixe three-course dinner, which I recall as good but not memorable enough to tell you what I had.   This time, our table of five ordered off an ever-changing menu. 

Since a home football game packed the town, the place was hopping when we arrived for our 9 p.m. reservation.  This white-tablecloth but unpretentious restaurant is divided into two sections, a brightly painted sun-room-type space that overlooks the street scene in Five Points, and an interior room that contains tables and a long bar.  One thing I noticed this visit was the decibel level - this is a noisy place, enough that I found myself yelling across the table to make myself heard over a boisterous woman at the bar.  My first time here, I was seated in the sun room, and I would suggest requesting a table in this area if you wish to converse or if you have hearing issues.

Despite the lofty ceiling - the kind with the exposed ducts - the dining room is inviting, thanks to billowing sheers looped overhead.  The contemporary restaurant occupies a space that was once a five-and-dime store, thus the name.  An odd assortment of black-and-white prints adorns the walls, some Asian influenced, and others - like those above the rest rooms - resemble head shots of blond models or actors from the 1960s.   Hanging on the wall of the women's bathroom is Chef Acheson's membership certificate from the Confrerie de la Chaines des Rotisseurs.  I had to smile at the absurdity of reading about this prestigious gastronomic organization while sitting on the commode.  This guy must have a sense of humor.  Interestingly, none of the eclectic decor has anything to do with the theme of the food, which is a sophisticated take on Southern cuisine.

We began with a cheese tray and a pate appetizer for the table to share.  Hubmeister solicited the server for recommendations and received nothing but nods as he inquired about a few of the cow, sheep and goat cheeses.  This was the first in a series of service missteps. The server was clueless when it came to the cheeses, which were delicious and accompanied by sliced apples, grapes and sugared pecans.  The pate was served with toast points and sweet chutney.  The pate was mild and the cheeses sharp, so we ended up with a good balance of flavors to start things off. 

I ordered Frogmore Stew, a lovely Low Country concoction of large, tender shrimp, spicy andouille sausage, delicate fingerling potatoes, leeks and sweet corn on the cob.   Accompanied by a thick piece of buttery, grilled bread and served in a bowl, the shrimp, sausage and vegetables were cradled in a light, tomato-based broth.   This seafood "boil" was as pretty as a picture, and I am sorry I don't have one to show you. 

The other standout entree at the table was Crispy Trout wrapped in Benton Country Ham, served with Red Mule Grits.   Son of Hubmeister, who claimed he wasn't hungry, never looked up from the plate as he ate every bite.   Additional savory selections at our table included redfish and a pork chop with collard greens.  Hubmeister remarked about the freshness and quality of the ingredients.

Unfortunately, I must return to the service stumbles.  The wait staff mismatched the entrees and the diners, and never removed all of the used dishes before dessert arrived.  When presenting the cheese plate, the server plopped it down without identifying the cheeses, and ignored the mess of bread crumbs that remained on the tablecloth throughout the entire meal.  These details are significant when considering the cost of dining at this establishment, and the lack of professionalism in the front of the house is an insult to the high-quality creations emerging from the kitchen. 

This brings me to the sweet finale.  We ordered two desserts and passed them around.  Daughtress selected the Chocolate Nemesis Cake with Salty Caramel Ice Cream, Bruleed Bananas and Roasted Peanuts; and Son of Hubmeister, whose appetite was miraculously revived by the superior efforts of the chef, ordered Pumpkin Mascarpone Mousse with Toasted Pepitas, Whipped Cream and Maple Reduction.   The rich chocolate cake was lavalike and Daughtress enjoyed the counter-balance of the ice cream touched with salt.  After tasting the pumpkin mousse, I was ready to wrestle Son of Hubmeister for it and return the following evening just for dessert.   For pumpkin lovers like me, this was the epitome of an autumnal treat.  The maple drizzle on the plate, the crunchy pumpkin seeds, the creamy mousse - it was an extraordinary combination and presentation.

Five & Ten has earned a stellar Zagat food rating of 28 every year since 2004.   I give the food high marks too, but service is another matter.  Perhaps the chef/owner is getting too busy - he currently co-owns another Athens restaurant, named The National, a wine shop, and he recently opened Empire State South, a restaurant in Atlanta.  I can't wait for my next trip to the ATL.   

Restaurant Info:
Five & Ten
1653 S. Lumpkin Street
Athens, GA
706-546-7300
http://www.fiveandten.com/

Jeffrey's Roast Chicken: What the Cluck!

After watching Jeffrey salivate over Ina's roasted birds all these years, I decided to give the Barefoot Contessa's roast chicken a try. 

Within the past few weeks I have made it twice.  The first time I screwed up the vegetables and burned them to an inedible crisp, going beyond caramelized to something that resembled scorched earth.  Then I watched the show, which was replayed yet AGAIN, and Ina mentioned in a quick aside that the pan shouldn't be too large or the veggies will burn.  Well, she's right!  But that didn't affect the moist and flavorful bird, so I couldn't wait to try it again. 

This week, instead of using my large roaster, I filled the bottom of a 9- X 11-inch baking dish with the vegetables and placed that clucker on top.  Success! 

Keep the vegetables close to the bird to prevent burning.

  

I followed most of the steps and ingredients closely, with the exception of stuffing the cavity with fresh thyme, which has long since met its demise in our garden.  I sprinkled dried thyme over the chicken and the veggies and crammed in some fresh Italian parsley. 

The verdict is in:  this chicken is exceptional.  Its juicy and tender interior is enveloped by a crispy, buttery skin that you know you should discard but you just can't.  I recommend purchasing a good-quality chicken, not the crappy grocery store fryer.  I am not a freak about organic food, but when it comes to chicken, there is a difference in both taste and consistency.   

The vegetables are delicious as well, although the discriminating testers in The Best of America's Test Kitchen cookbook dislike cooking the vegetables in the same pot with the chicken.  Because the chicken fat drains into the vegetables, the experts found them greasy and unappealing.  I brought this up to Hubmeister, who stated flatly, "But that's what makes them good."   Some may not like this method, and I admit I was skeptical, but we shoveled in parsnips like there was no tomorrow.  I didn't have fennel on hand, so my veg assortment included red potatoes, carrots, parsnips and a gigantic sliced onion.  I love fennel and will try that next time.

So there you have it.  This is what keeps Jeffrey returning to the Hamptons each weekend.  Oh yeah, and Ina and her gang of merry men. 

Here's Ina and the play-by-play video: http://www.foodnetwork.com/videos/perfect-roast-chicken/24509.html

My Blue (Crab) Heaven

Look at the size of this guy! 

I brought him and 11 of his monster-sized friends back from Punta Gorda a couple weeks ago.  They were still clawing for life when they hit the steamer basket.  It was somewhat sad, but that was a fleeting sentiment as I watched these gifts from the sea turn an angry shade of orange.  Humans are hungry, after all. 

Son of Hubmeister and I had a finger-lickin' mini-feast, thanks to the craberrific efforts of the team at Peace River Seafood in Punta Gorda.  I couldn't have asked for a fresher crab if I pulled it from a trap myself.  You can purchase live crabs from this cute little spot off Highway 17, or sit in the Old-Florida-era-house-turned-restaurant and pound away till your heart's content.  Prefer to see the shells fly outside?  Request a table on the inviting deck shaded by majestic oaks.  If the kids get antsy, send them out back to visit the goats and chickens.

It's a crab shack off Highway 17, where we can get together....a crab shack, baaaby.

In the spirit of full disclosure, Food and Loathing has a special place in her heart for the purveyors of this establishment, so I'll let these hefty crawlers and folks crowding the laid-back eatery speak for its amazing fresh Florida seafood and fun and funky crab-shack groove.  You can also check out this blog for additional restaurant photos and opinion:  http://www.blogthebeach.com/2009/life-at-the-beach/peace-river-seafood-crab-shack 

If you are passing through Punta Gorda (the restaurant is one mile east of I-75, Exit 164), and you have a hankering for crab, you are guaranteed to get the freshest crustaceans imaginable here.  Local fishermen make daily deliveries of their catches, which also include clams, shrimp and a variety of fish. 

A thriving wholesaler, Peace River Seafood ships its bounty to restaurants throughout the United States.  Crab aficionados in the Northeast are probably unfamiliar with the Peace River, but the sweet and meaty crabs on which they feast knew it well. 

Restaurant Info:
Peace River Seafood Restaurant and Fish Market
5337 Duncan Road
Punta Gorda
941-505-8440

Putting Out the Pumpkin

Throughout my childhood, the word curry made everyone in the house shudder.  This innocent spice blend was ostracized from my Irish/English/German household.  I think there was a dish that my Irish grandmother made in which she used curry and my mother warned us about it, as in, "Watch out!  Nana always puts curry in her..." 

To this day, curry will evoke an "ewww" from most of the bunch, except for my adventurous foodie sister and me.  She's the one who turned me on to it after she discovered an affinity for Indian cuisine.  Following her lead, I began trying some Indian dishes and realized what I had been missing all these years.  Curry!  

According to McCormick's New Spice Cookbook, curry powder is a blend of 15 or more ground spices.  It originated in India, where people mix their own spices for different curries.  The golden color results from turmeric, but a blend may also contain ginger, fenugreek, cloves, cinnamon, cumin, and pepper, as well as other spices.  It can be mild or spicy - dominate a dish or simply enhance it - depending on how heavy your hand is.  It imparts an earthy flavor and pungent aroma. 

In this recipe for Curried Pumpkin Soup, curry provides a warm undertone for the sweet pumpkin.   This soup is ideal for a crisp fall day, and the perceived richness of it belies the fact that it is good for you.  You can use regular evaporated milk, but I used fat-free with great results.  You'll notice that I included mushrooms in this recipe and that's because I made this soup for ME!   Now maybe you'll make it for YOU - except the curry haters, and I see you grimacing!

Curry pumps up the flavor of this satisfying pumpkin soup.

Curried Pumpkin Soup
(Southern Living - 1996 Annual Recipes)

2 T butter or margarine
1 (8-ounce) package sliced fresh mushrooms
1/2 C chopped onion
2 T all-purpose flour
1 T curry powder
3 C chicken broth
2 C canned pumpkin
1 T honey
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp ground nutmeg
1/4 tsp pepper
1 (12-ounce) can evaporated milk
Garnishes:  sour cream, chopped fresh chives

1. Melt butter in a large saucepan; add mushrooms and onion, and cook until tender, stirring often.
2. Stir in flour and curry powder; gradually add chicken broth, and cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, until mixture is thickened. 
3. Stir in pumpkin and next 4 ingredients; reduce heat, and simmer 10 minutes, stirring occasionally.  Stir in milk, and cook, stirring constantly until thoroughly heated.  Garnish, if desired.  I like chives.

Notes:  I used low-sodium chicken broth and found I needed to add more salt, so taste and see.

Yield:  6 1/2 cups.

Foodie Headline of the Week

Pizza driver falls for 'mom is in the shower scam'

Need I say more?  For further explanation:

http://hosted.ap.org/dynamic/stories/U/US_ODD_PIZZA_SCAM?SITE=FLTAM&SECTION=ENTERTAINMENT

All Hail the Return of the Shrimp

Hubmeister is finally eating shrimp again after an unfortunate pad thai experience at a local restaurant in March.  He and Son of Hubmeister both ordered the same shrimp dish and only the older Meister got sick, so I can't totally blame the restaurant (but he does!). 

This pukefest happened the night before coaching a morning game in Orlando, then driving back to Tampa, flying to Atlanta and shuttling to Athens to see Daughtress in a play - all in the same day.  It was the worst timing imaginable, not that food poisoning ever comes at a good time, but traveling with the remnants of bad Thai food in your gut literally blows.  I guess I'd hold a grudge against shrimp, too.  I've held a grudge against bourbon since my college days.

For the shrimp homecoming celebration last night I made a shrimp and asparagus dish out of my trusty low-fat Good Morning America Cut the Calories Cookbook.  Hubmeister bought me this book years ago - the copyright is 2000 - because my food hero Sara Moulton graces the cover.  I didn't start using it until we moved back to Florida and I weighed myself.  It turns out I was having too much fun living in Georgia, making and scarfing down biscuits and fig cake, to be concerned with the tightening of my clothes and the widening of my butt.

I attribute this cookbook with much of my dieting success.  When you love to cook, it's hard to sacrifice all the wonderful fat that makes everything taste so good, but this book showed me that you can still be creative and make tasty meals with lower calorie ingredients.  Sara, who co-edited the book, chose the best low-calorie, low-fat recipes submitted by more than a thousand "Good Morning America" viewers. 

Among the 120 recipes selected is the one below for Shrimp and Asparagus Casserole.  It's a really fast one to whip up - the speediness of preparing shrimp always a big plus - and I especially like the sherry, which brings out the sweetness of the shrimp.  I didn't have mushrooms and the gang here hates them anyway, but what I lacked in mushrooms I made up for with shrimp.  A half-pound?  Come on. 

I served this light and easy meal over fragrant basmati rice.

Pretty impressive for 184 calories a serving

Shrimp and Asparagus Casserole
(Good Morning America Cut the Calories Cookbook)

1/2 pound fresh asparagus, cut into 1-inch lengths
1 T unsalted butter
1/2 pound medium-size mushrooms, thinly sliced
1 C coarsely chopped yellow onion (about 1 medium-large onion)
1 T cornstarch
1/4 tsp. ground nutmeg (I used freshly grated)
1/4 tsp. ground white pepper (or black, who cares?)
1/4 tsp. salt
3/4 C skim milk
1/4 C dry sherry (buy real sherry, NOT cooking sherry)
1/2 pound shelled and deveined large raw shrimp, halved lengthwise (or don't bother halving them)
3 T freshly grated Parmesan cheese

1. Preheat oven to 450 degrees.  Bring a large pan of water to boil over high heat.  Add asparagus and cook uncovered four minutes.  Drain asparagus, plunge into ice water, and set aside.
2. Melt butter in a large, heavy skillet over moderate heat.  Add mushrooms and onion and saute, stirring occasionally, until limp but not brown - about five minutes. 
3. Blend in cornstarch, nutmeg, pepper, and salt, then mix in milk and sherry and, stirring constantly, bring quickly to a boil.  Adjust heat so mixture bubbles, and cook, stirring all the while, until thickened - about three minutes. 
4. Add shrimp and cook uncovered just until shrimp turn pink - about two minutes.  Meanwhile, drain asparagus well, then add to shrimp mixture.
5. Turn shrimp mixture into ungreased one-quart casserole and scatter Parmesan evenly on top.
6. Bake uncovered until bubbly and lightly golden - about 10 minutes.  Serve at once.

Notes:  Serves three or four.  Buy whole nutmeg and grate on a microplane.  It's the only way I use nutmeg anymore.  Pick up a bottle of sherry in the wine section of your grocery store for under $10.  Put a splash in creamy soups, seafood and chicken dishes.