The nature of food blogging means that I'm eating by myself as often as with someone else. Although I'm never truly alone because I feel like you, dear reader, are eating there with me.
I'm kidding. Of course, I'm alone. But I'm also taking notes, casually ferreting information out of the staff and following the meals of diners at other tables to get a sense of what people think of a new place. As a result, I'm fairly content to have a plate of noodles as my only dining companion. So when a friend suggested that he will never eat out by himself because it's mortifying - as if he were carrying a sign that says, "I couldn't find someone to eat with me," I was surprised. I didn't realize that in an era where we can bury ourselves in a phone or paper/electronic media, that eating by oneself still had some stigma.
In an era of culinary experimentation, ice cream has moved far afield from chocolate and vanilla. And the guys most responsible for freezing your brain's capacity to understand what it's eating are likely Jake Godby and Sean Vahey (talking at Google above) - the owners of the Humphry Slocombe ice cream shop in San Francisco and the authors of the new book, Humphry Slocombe Ice Cream Book.
The Bay area ice creamery has gained acclaim (this New York Timespiece is a good primer for the unfamiliar) for its unique flavor combinations, everything from peanut butter curry to salt and pepper to their signature secret breakfast, which somehow mashes up the world of bourbon and cornflakes. Their flavors are not meant to be novelties; they're instead meant to push the envelope of what is possible with ice cream.
Are you willing to experiment with your bowl of dessert or are you an ice cream traditionalist?
Macarons, the high-end jam-cookie sandwiches, have finally washed up on the shores of Kansas City. Those eager to see the demise of the cupcake have to be pleased to see the French confection popping up around town.
Natasha's Mulberry & Mott has brought macarons to the Plaza, and Bloom Baking Co. has a rotating cast of flavors in the City Market. They're also a regular part of Le Fou Frog's dessert menu in Columbus Park, and Au Bon Macaron is helping fill the pastry case at Little Freshie on the West Side. So do you need a little more meringue in your life, or are macarons a bit too precious for you?
I've been thinking about the scallion pancakes at ABC Cafe since last Wednesday.
Chinese food, like hot dogs, fills a specific void in our stomach. It's a compartment that sends a very specific craving to our brain. By lunch, most of us know if we're having Chinese for dinner. And just as barbecue slides from white tablecloth to greasy sack in this city, Chinese has a huge range in price, preparation and MSG content for Kansas Citians.
When you're caught in the throes of a Chinese craving, who's cooking for you and what's the dish you're eating?
If a line is long enough, you usually have enough time to wonder why you're waiting, feel good about seeing all the happy people leaving, wonder again why you're waiting, curse the people for not leaving sooner, press your nose against the window like a street urchin in an attempt to see what you will be ordering, wish you had crackers in your pocket like the toddler in the stroller in front of you, play with your smartphone, wonder why you ever got in line, and then finally arrive at your table hungry and ready to declare your meal worth the wait.
Eaterhas the story of the 150-minute wait that folks were willing to endure at Doughnut Vault in Chicago, which has been named the number one doughnut shop in the country by Food & Wine. Werner's gets a pretty good line (but it moves quickly) around noon on Saturdays for their sausages, and it's rare that the Oklahoma Joe's line doesn't extend into the parking lot. What's the longest you'd be willing to wait for food?
Is 20 pieces of fried chicken the equivalent of all-you-can-eat?
Our growing waistlines notwithstanding, the latest debate over an all-you-can-eat dinner special comes to us via Wisconsin. Man eats 20 pieces of fried fish. Man is still hungry. Man calls the police and protests outside the restaurant over what he considers false advertising.
Odds are, we all don't possess the prodigious appetite of Bill Wisth, but he does represent an extreme ideal of the basic approach for most of us when we go to a buffet - we're determined to get our money's worth. It's why we don't fill up on breadsticks at Olive Garden or the cold salads at Em Chamas. We wait for the prime cuts to come around to the table. Still, should all-you-can-eat really mean all-you-can-eat, or should restaurants be able to cut us off (either because they're out of food or because our breathing has become dangerously labored)?
Not all mixologists and chefs like you messing with their recipes.
Every chef, regardless of their motivation for getting behind a hot grill, has a vision of the food they're sending out into the dining room. The composition of dishes is intentional and, in many cases, a reflection of the chef's influences and evolving abilities over years. And then a diner sits down and explains that they really don't want salt, butter or cheese, and could the sauce just come on the side?
Chefs are apparently striking back in what Time's Josh Ozersky calls "The New Culture of Culinary Coercion." In the piece, he wonders if a culture of tasting menus and inflexible chefs has gone too far. So, should every restaurant allow substitutions, or are there dishes from chefs of certain renown, bartenders with certain skills, and restaurants at certain price points that we (as nonchefs) shouldn't be allowed to monkey around with?
The watermelon has just started to be sweet, and spring is officially in swing. But put away the Country Time, we're grown-ups now and ready for some real lemonade. Beer Kitchen makes its rosemary lemonade in-house. Panera, which opened last week in the former Beauty Express space in Brookside, has arguably the best lemonade of any chain. And the Genessee Royale has a vodka lemonade that is dangerously drinkable.
With or without alcohol, who makes the best cup of lemonade in town?
While it's satisfying to have so many food- and chef-related titles on the shelves, wading through the morass of cookbooks, memoirs and themed titles is getting to feel like the Internet - it's hard to suss out the good from the stinky cheese. In lieu of a book club, we'll just ask: What was the latest great food book you read?
The day before I was offered the job here at The Pitch, I cracked open a fortune cookie that told me, "A new opportunity will soon present itself." Whether it was serendipity or simply a statistical anomaly, I took the fortune as a good omen and the stale cookie as the price of the prediction business.
Frank Bruni delves into the world of snarky fortunes in a piece for The New York Times about Cookie Misfortune. "You will die alone and poorly dressed" is the one that rooked the former critic's universe. Beyond the wisdom of determining just how stale a given fortune cookie is before taking a bite, have you ever found wisdom in a fortune cookie?
A block party in Westport and other weekend possibilities
Aaron Confessori plants his Boot in Westport
Does it bother you to dine alone?
Chef Charles d'Ablaing wins 2012 Golden Fork Award
Walking the aisles at Natural Grocers
Parkville's Rusty Horse Tavern is now open and serving burgers and beer
New Plaza Bo Lings opens on June 11
Spin Neapolitan Pizza opens in Lenexa on Monday