What I Ate This Week

A place that makes Cincinnati someplace special...

A more personal ending came last night as our little foursome made our way to Jean-Robert at Pigall’s for the last time.  I won’t do the news reporting– if you’re curious, you can Google it to learn about what’s happened.  In any case, Cincinnati’s finest restaurant is closing its doors (likely to be replaced by a middling, French “themed” place with $15 steak frites and French onion soup) and we’re into its final week.  We went to pay our respects, and we were repaid with one of the finest meals I’ve had in a good long while.  Normally, I do try to focus on a dish or two, but this time, I’m going to talk about all four.  They were each singular and represent what I love about this place.

Thanks, Salmon!

The amuse was a lovely salmon bite with cream.  As you’d come to expect with Pigall’s, the flavor balance was spot on.  The “bite” of the salmon was rounded out with the cream, and the fish was firm enough to hold its own texture.  Alongside the salmon was a little phyllo-wrapped marinated cabbage that provided a little something vinegary, and a warm swallow of fresh beet soup reminded me that in the right hands, almost anything can taste like right now.

Cincinnati's last tartare

So, we didn’t do the five-course tasting menu because (as is often the case) the choices in the three-course menu were too much for a couple of us.  My first course was an amazing tuna tartare that (after much reflection) was my favorite dish of the meal.  As with the amuse, it was a lovely balance of textures and flavors.  The tuna itself was lightly marinated and was of exceptionally high quality– I feel bad for the diners of the world who might have relegated tuna to dry grilled steaks or mayonnaise-y salads.  Top shelf tuna, marinated and cut small dice… heavenly.  It was paired with what tasted like perhaps some radish shavings (great for texture contrast) and topped with a lightly-fried quail egg.  Just awesome.  Flavors that screamed off the plate.

Steak? Who needs steak?

A perfect ending.

Don't walk by... good food inside

Now THAT's lamb!

Well, I’ve sure been sick this week.  I mean really sick.  Whatever it was that I got at the end of vacation (only jocularly referred to in my last post, because I didn’t know how bad it would get!) sidelined me for the majority of this week.  It’s like my body has been doing a re-boot with most of its major systems just shutting down and failing on me.  Wow.  Is this what it will be like to get older?  If so, I’m not so much excited about it.

I was actually due in China this week, for days of hilarious exotic culinary misadventures, but I never made it.  My first layover on Sunday was in Las Vegas, through some miracle of airline scheduling.  I had looked forward to this so much– six full hours in Vegas before needing to board a flight to Korea.  I even knew where I wanted to eat– Fiamma, a fantastic Italian restaurant at the MGM Grand.  Except… I wasn’t feeling well.  I got all the way to Vegas, feeling worse than ever.  I called a couple of casino spas to see if anyone was open on a Sunday night to offer massages.  The MGM gave me their last appointment at 7:30– it was 7:10 and I was still at the airport!  Anyway, long and terrible story cut (a little) short, I got about 10 minutes of a message and was dumped unceremoniously out in the MGM.  I walked right by Fiamma and could hardly stand the smell– folks, I was sick.  This is still supposed to be the best restaurant in Vegas– so it’s me, not them.  Despondent and dejected, I sat down in the food court, took some water and pills, and wondered.

On my way back to catch a cab to sit at the airport, I spied Wolfgang Puck’s Bar & Grill– the only place at the MGM that seemed to be above fast food but below “nice dining”– I didn’t have the energy to put on any airs.  I sat tentatively and ultimately ordered chicken soup from the waiter.  Perhaps the only chicken soup in Vegas and the only thing that sounded good.  And it was good.  REALLY good.  I’ve poo-poohed Wolfgang Puck before to friends as a sell-out, but I’ll admit I’ve NEVER had a bad meal in one of his (real) restaurants.  (I exempt from this discussion his “airport cafes,” which are admittedly and completely nasty.)  And this soup was… incredible.  Just right.  Wonderful real chicken, an almost-consomme-clear broth, and nice large chunks of carrot, celery, and onion.  My god how it made me feel human.  I surprised myself by ordering a nice spaghettini with pomodoro sauce that was equally excellent.  Although I still didn’t feel good enough to continue the trip (I called our work travel agent and had them cancel the trip and book me home later that night), Wolfgang got me home.  And for that I’ll be eternally grateful.  Thank you, and may your huge restaurant empire live on forever.

It’s Just (Bad) Crepes

Back in Cincy, as the week wore on and I finally felt good enough to eat a meal, co-workers and I went out to a new-ish place on Court Street called It’s Just Crepes.  I forget what was there before, but it’s one of those storefronts that has a new style of restaurant every 4 months or so, it seems.  Sadly, I think the Crepes place might not be here to stay either.

Just add flavor...

The place was super-busy, which is a good sign.  Up front, the crepe-makers are constantly spooning and swirling batter and filling those crepes with fillings.  I think my biggest problem was the place is its menu– not just non-traditional, just downright weird.  A BBQ crepe with chicken, sour cream, and BBQ sauce?  What’s that about?  A Pizza crepe?  I think where they missed the mark is they use the crepes as just a delivery vehicle– it could just as easily be a tortilla (and maybe they should have been).  Frankly, I liked this concept better the first time, when it was called Roly Poly, thank you very much!  I’d go back for a sweet crepe, but not again for savory.  I ordered the hawaiian, which was a dry and flavorless combination of ham, cheddar, and pineapple.  I was hungry enough to eat, but couldn’t finish it.  Judging from the happiness of my co-workers, the place can do some tasty combinations, but the combination of the wrong order and a strange menu left me bereft!  Next time, I walk next door to Avril-Bleh and get me a bratwurst!  (Oh yes, spring is coming…)

Port-of-Call Flashback:  Cozumel’s Platanos Con Crema

So this all leaves me with a craving and a memory I’ll share.  During our afternoon in Cozumel, we ended up pushing it really late to the ship (we got there 3 minutes before boarding finished!) because of a late lunch / early dinner I wanted at a place called Comida Casera.  Among the many delicious tacos and tostadas we had (another time, perhaps) we had the most perfect side dish– platanos con crema.

Comfort food, adult-style

Surely, plantains are one of the food items that unite the Caribbean culinary world, and maduros (thick-sliced, sweet-fried plantains that aren’t prepared until they are nearly black-ripe) are probably the most common serving style.  But serving them alongside warm, sweet Mexican crema– well, that’s a Mexican twist on this fabulous dish.  I’ve had them before, but nothing like this.  Sweet enough by American standards to be dessert, it represented the perfect accompaniment to savory and spicy chicken and seafood tacos.  Viva la Mexico!

This week will be better, folks.  And I guarantee I’ll have some interesting things to write about.  Stay healthy!

Greetings!  I’m here in my Cincinnati home, recovering from a week on the high seas in the Caribbean.  This isn’t a blog about my travels, so I’ll spare the narrative, except to say I use the word “recovering” quite literally– at the very end of the trip I came down with some kind of spine-eating stomach bug.  (At least, that’s as near as I can describe it.)  So, I sadly lost my appetite for a little while there.  But it was after most of the good eating, so I’m glad for that!  Plus, as I had long suspected but never been able to prove… cruise ship food is GROSS.  Sorry, Norwegian.  Take heart that I’m sure it’s just as bad everywhere.  (NCL was great in just about every other way.)  So it goes with my first, and likely last, cruise.  Ever.

The Boat

But “where it’s at” this past week were the ports of call.  As you might expect, I ate a LOT, and we ate very well indeed.  But to write about all of it is both counter to the mantra of the site and would take far more time than I have… because even though I got in just last night, I’ve got a flight in about 3 hours that will take me to China.  So weary.  At least the headaches, fever, and nausea have passed.

So, I’ll focus on three specific dishes… one from each port of call.  To say these had a hand in making my week would be grand understatement.

Miami:  Sweetbreads at Talula in Miami Beach

Unassuming on the outside, delicious on the inside!

I’ve heard of Talula for a long time, as kind of a “where the locals eat” in otherwise tourist-crazed South Beach.  I know… I’m a tourist.  I don’t mind being one.  I just don’t want to eat like one.  So we stepped off of Ocean Avenue to a really cute place called Talula.  It was fabulous– it’s got the low-key, happy-to-have-you vibe that you don’t get by being “too cool” or by being “too pushy.”  It’s just a great establishment.  Our whole meal was phenomenal, but the dish I’m “writing home about” were the sweetbreads.  These things were incredible.  It’s true that I’ve never gone for sweetbreads before– it’s not that I’ve been scared by them, it’s that the “right place” and the “right menu” never came along.  But on that magical night, they did. 

An unlikely heaven

And they were fab.  I’ll admit I can’t remember the entire preparation, as it was a special they had just come up with the day before, but what an interesting study in contrasts.  The sweetbreads themselves were pan-seared and (I’m guessing) finished off in the oven.  They were served atop a savory and pillowy waffle (!) with some blackberries and a blackberry sauce that added an interesting touch of acid, and topped with mixed greens.  Sweet and savory, soft and a little crunchy, dark and light.  Awesome.  Thanks, Talula.

Cozumel:  Conch Ceviche at Tropical Cafe

Oh, Cozumel.  How I feared there would be nothing to you beyond the endless cruise ship mall.  How wrong I was.  Sure… it takes 20 minutes to find the lone exit to the “port” mall (and I counted 7 entrances!) but once we found it, we were on our way to freedom.  We ditched the shore excursions and rented a scooter instead, to see some Mayan ruins and tool our way around the coast road of the island.  Besides being a gorgeous day (and a rare warm one as far as our week went), we saw all kinds of sand, surf, and clear blue waters.  They say Cozumel is a diver’s paradise and I believe ‘em!  Anyway, most of the way around the island we came to Punto Sur, home of a lighthouse and a park.  However, our stop was at Cafe Paradise, which is an unassuming hut of a place blaring reggae out the front.  Apparently that’s their marketing gimmick to get people in.  We walked down to the beach and grabbed a wooden table facing the ocean and ordered some juices and a conch ceviche.  (As devoted readers may know, I recently had a very “un-ceviche” like experience I was trying to move on from!)

So first, the view.

Unassuming enough...

From our table:

Take that, Corona...

Then, the dish:

So simple. So good.

Phenomenal.  I’m not sure I’ve ever had such fresh-tasting food in my life.  The citrus acid with the conch and taste of cucumber– it was absolute heaven.  This was a day-maker.  Oh… and we might have been the only Americans and we were certainly the only cruisers at the restaurant.  We had gotten away.

Conch Fritters at B.O.’s Fishwagon, Key West

And our final port of call was Key West.  Had a just fantastic breakfast at Blue Heaven (go there for breakfast and order… well, anything.  Their fresh pineapple pancakes were a delight.) and spent a little time sightseeing.  I had been to KW before and the place is kind of ridiculous, but the vibe of the locals works for me.  Easy come, easy go.  So it was at our lunch spot right before boarding the ship for the last time.  We made it to a locals-swear-by-it place called B.O.’s Fishwagon.  (Yes, you know that they’re not aiming at the tourist dollar with that name.  Or the decor!)

Yes, they serve food here.

We ordered a few different things but again, it was the conch that made the meal go round.  Imagine the perfect pairing of the consistency of a hush puppie (a really good one, that is) and the flavor of fresh seafood.  One of those dishes that just makes serving sauces completely redundant.  Awesome.  Anyway, no phone, no website.  Just ask someone from the island where you can go for B.O., and they’ll let you know.  Their fresh fish sandwich was lovely too, by the way.

Eat this. If you can.

So lots more to say, but I’ll call that good.  Hope your week was as excellent as mine.  Now, time to empty and repack the suitcase for another week of strange and culinary times.  More soon!