Some cities outright own a particular dish.

Boston? Clam Chowder. Austin? BBQ — beef brisket to be specific. Atlanta? Fried chicken. Santa Fe? Green chile stew.

In Charleston, it’s shrimp & grits.

You can order shrimp & grits in any city these days — Southern food is a hot trend — but in Charleston, it’s not a trend. It is breakfast, lunch and dinner, and it is woven into the very fabric of this historical city. There is hoity-toity shrimp & grits, down-home shrimp & grits, and everything in between.

Here is a look at six Charleston restaurants and their version of the dish that defines this gracious Southern city.

1. Husk: Bon Appetit magazine’s Best New Restaurant, Husk, serves their seasonal shrimp & grits (above) in a bowl with a roasted tomato broth ladled over Anson Mills grits, with artisan sausage, lardons, and plump, jumbo shrimp. (here is the recipe in NYT.)

2. Jestine’s Kitchen: Rachael Ray, Anthony Bourdain and Roadfood’s Jane & Michael Stern all had a hand in putting Jestine’s Kitchen on the national radar for home-cooking Southern grub like meatloaf, fried chicken and of course, shrimp & grits (above). Jestine’s version features soupy grits with a meaty tasting brown gravy, onions and roasted red peppers. Very basic and delicious, although the shrimp were a tad overcooked.

3. Southend Brewery’s shrimp and grits (above) is more akin to cheese soup with tomatoes, Tasso ham and oh yes, shrimp and grits. The tomato wedges didn’t add much — it would have been better had they been diced, but the shrimp was perfectly cooked. Pair it with the hoppy Castle Pinckney Pale Ale.

4. Marina Variety Store: (left) There is always a line at this kitschy, seafaring restaurant overlooking the marina, but it moves quickly. Ask to sit in the front room for the marina view. MVS serves up a whopping plate of plain white grits topped with a modest amount of sauteed shrimp, cooked just right.

The fried green tomatoes pictured on the plate are optional. Adding a dash of hot sauce is not.

5. Poogan’s Porch: (right) uses yellow, coarse ground grits, thick and sturdy, along with a generous helping of onions, scallions, ham, sausage and tail-on shrimp, sauced in a blue crab gravy. I loved the rough and firm texture of the grits. I did not love having to take the tails off the shrimp.

6. Hominy Grill: I saved the best for last (below). Nothing fancy about this shrimp and grits plate. But everything in this dish has a purpose. The grits were firm but creamy. The shrimp were spiced and perfectly cooked. Bits of salty, smoky bacon and meaty mushrooms provide the supporting cast. Green scallions and a spritz of lemon, and this dish is everything I could ask from this humble, Lowcountry dish. If you love this dish as much as I did, pick up a copy of the recipe booklet. It includes the recipe.

Details:
All six restaurants are located in the historic district of Charleston.
Husk
76 Queen Street
843-577-2500

Jestine’s Kitchen
251 Meeting Street
843-722-7224

Southend Brewery
161 East Bay Street
843-853-4677

Marina Variety Store
17 Lockwood Drive
843-723-6325

Poogan’s Porch (next door to Husk)
72 Queen Street
843-577-2337

Hominy Grill
207 Rutledge Avenue
843-937-0930

Tags: Charleston dining, grits, Hominy Grill, Husk, Jestine's, Marina Variety Store, Poogan's Porch, recipe, shrimp, shrimp and grits, shrimp and grits in Charleston, Southend Brewery
Posted in Travel Eats | 3 Comments »

It was the best restaurant, it was the worst restaurant. This is a tale of two restaurants. It is, in fact, the same restaurant. On one occasion, I was an anonymous diner, a regular Jane Doe. On another, I was part of a group of professional food journalists. Here is what happened …

Bon Appetit magazine named Husk in Charleston, South Carolina, the Best New Restaurant in America in 2011. Them’s big shoes to fill for sure, because any restaurant lover within spittin’ distance or not, will swarm to the historic port town to see exactly what the fuss is all about. I mean really, a Southern restaurant is the No. 1 restaurant in all the land? Mercy.

Well before Husk was crowned the belle of the ball, I had a trip to Charleston on the books to attend the annual conference of the Association of Food Journalists. A lunch at Husk was on the conference agenda, but it was on my personal agenda, too, which is how I ended up at the restaurant the evening before the conference began, just an average customer eager to experience the new mecca of foodiedom.

Jane Doe Diner vs. The Restaurant Critic

It turns out that my first visit as a Jane Doe didn’t go as well as when I was a member of the posse of journalists. Surprising? No, but it does illustrate a point about why professional restaurant critics go to great lengths to dine anonymously when reviewing restaurants.

It’s tough to get a handle on a restaurant with only one visit and I know lots of diners only get one shot. Some diners form their opinion from one visit and then write up the experience on Yelp, or wherever, and call it a “review.” Folks, that is not a review. That is a snapshot of one meal, one experience. There’s nothing wrong with that. It is what it is. But what it isn’t is a review.

If I’d based my impression of Husk from that late Monday evening visit, I’d wonder how in the heck anyone, much less a revered national magazine, thought that Husk was THE best restaurant in the land, let alone in Charleston, a town bulging with great restaurants.

Jane Doe

As Jane and John Doe, we arrive without a reservation at 8 p.m. on a Monday night. The hostess was sweet as sugar and said it would be about an hour wait, but we could pass the time in the bar next door. We did, and the bar was vibrant, bustling, enchanting. In fact, on a later visit, we chose the bar over the restaurant because of the ambiance — and the great craft beers and cocktail prowess of the bearded bartender.

An hour and a half later, thinking they’d forgotten about us, we moseyed back over to the restaurant. We were half right. The hostess said she’d mistakenly “just given away our table to someone else,” oops, but it should only be a few more minutes. It was only 15 minutes more.

Once seated on the second floor balcony (relegated for walk-ins and friends with benefits), I was sure things would go smoother. It was a gorgeous evening and the charming balcony was still full of other diners. But things didn’t go so well. Service was excruciatingly slow. The staff had a few friends dining that night and they couldn’t break away from their tables to attend to ours. There was no explanation of the menu or the restaurant. Service was detached.

It wasn’t just the serving staff that had issues that evening. The kitchen was wallowing in some troubles, too. A server dropped a dish off, with a “here you go” quip before spinning on his heels and walking a few tables over to chat with friends. The dish, fried green tomatoes with a dollop of dry pimento cheese and country ham, was 1) cold; 2) soaked in grease; and 3) rather skimpy, with three, silver dollar size tomato slices. Not impressive.

The Restaurant Critic

Three days later at the journalists’ luncheon, rustic serving pieces bearing hot, palm-size slabs of fried green tomatoes, with no apparent puddles of grease, were placed on the table with much fanfare. The pimento cheese was fresh, not dry, and the ham was obviously sliced with care. It was miles superior to the dish I had three days earlier.

Jane Doe

On Monday night, Jane Doe ordered the cornmeal dusted catfish with corn, cabbage and peas. The catfish, a generous portion, was more airbrushed than dusted with cornmeal. If it hit the pan for more than 30 seconds, I’d be surprised. It was pallid. The kitchen must have put away the salt and spices because this dish was a tasteless mix of lukewarm catfish and corn mush.

The Restaurant Critic

The journalists got the catfish dish that I had hoped for when I ordered it Monday night, but accompanied by BBQ pit bean succotash and pickled sweet peppers. To be honest, the luncheon catfish version, with a golden brown, seared crust and propped up by a pond of smoky beans and fresh corn, still wasn’t seasoned enough to make a lasting impression.

Best in the Land

One thing that was constant between my anonymous dining experience and the polished show for the food journalists was Husk’s cornbread.

Seriously, the cornbread might be the reason for the best restaurant award. I’ve never seen a more award-worthy skillet of crisp-crust, tender-crumb cornbread in my life. The gratuitous sprinkling of sea salt surely sealed the deal. That cornbread will forever be the standard against which I will measure all others.

The Case for Anonymity

On my first visit to Husk, they didn’t know me from the next tourist, and unfortunately, I caught both the kitchen and the front of the house on a bad evening. It happens.

Getting fussed over at the AFJ luncheon was fun … really, how could it not be? My job as a restaurant critic is to report what an average diner might experience. That means I go anonymously. That means I go more than once, on different days of the week and at different times.

Am I picking on Husk because they were named best new restaurant by a food magazine? Not intentionally, but it gives me the opportunity to point out why professional critics visit restaurants anonymously … and more than once.

My opening of the “best and the worst restaurant” was dramatic. In truth, Husk could never be a “worst” restaurant, but being an average one when you only have one shot is just as unfortunate.

Details:
Husk
76 Queen Street, Charleston SC
843-577-2500

Tags: AFJ, anonymous restaurant criticism, Association of Food Journalists, Best New Restaurant, bon appetit, Husk, restaurant reviews
Posted in Travel Eats | 4 Comments »

Boulder, Colorado topped a recent poll as “Happiest Place To Live.” Pollsters surmised fitness and healthy eating factored into why Boulder residents are ecstatic.

Perhaps, but I think it might have more to do with the breakfast fare at Lucile’s and Foolish Craig’s.

Sure, you can get a healthy bowl of granola at both places, but with miles of hiking surrounding Boulder, you might need a few more calories before hitting the trails.

Here are some picks for building up sustenance before lacing up your hiking boots.

Lucile’s

Porch seating for the cheery Victorian house one block north of downtown is at a premium on cool summer mornings, and by 8 o’clock on a Saturday, Lucile’s tiny patio is packed.

Inside, several dining rooms add charm to the Creole flavored dishes like pain perdu (below, left), a French baguette sliced at an angle, dipped in egg and seared on a griddle.

Lucile’s is just as famous for mile-high buttermilk biscuits (above, right), baked in a large sheet pan and cut into squares, served with foil-wrapped butter pats and homemade strawberry jam.

Eggs Pontchatrain, named after the lake that borders New Orleans, is two poached eggs with Béarnaise sauce served over spiced, pan-fried trout with thin grits. I love the old-school garnish of a sprig of parsley.

Foolish Craig’s Cafe

Artsy, funky Foolish Craig’s is all about crepes, and although crepes aren’t the only things on the breakfast menu, they caught the attention of the Diners, Drive-ins & Dives crew, who featured the Pearl Street icon last March.

The namesake crepe is stuffed with bacon (of course), sauteed mushrooms, potatoes, roasted red peppers, and topped with eggs your way (scrambled anyone?) and chunky salsa.

The green chile burrito may not get as much love as the crepes, but it’s respectable, if not nearly spicy enough.

Scrambled eggs, black beans and roasted potatoes fill the flour tortilla and a mild green chile pork stew is ladled on top of cheddar cheese.

The side of creamy grits is better than respectable, and in fact, Craig needs to teach Lucile the proper way to whip up a batch of grits.

Now, you tell me, what would make you a happy camper: one of these hearty breakfast plates or a bowl of granola?

Details:

Lucile’s
2124 14th Street, Boulder, CO
luciles.com

Foolish Craig’s Cafe
1611 Pearl Street, Boulder, CO
foolishcraigs.com

Tags: Boulder dining, breakfast, breakfast in Boulder, Foolish Craig's, Lucile's
Posted in Travel Eats | 5 Comments »

He had me at the name: Barley SWINE … Beer & pork.

Lots of beer — both draft (8) and bottled (24) craft beers — and not as much pig, surprisingly, given the name, but I’m not complaining.

He is Bryce Gilmore, the chef/owner and one of Food & Wine’s Ten Best New Chefs for 2011.

Gilmore first gathered Austin fame with his farm-to-food trailer The Odd Duck, only a short 10-minute walk up the street from his locavore-themed, brick and mortar Barley SWINE.

On the evening we visited the tiny, 34-seat restaurant on South Lamar, Gilmore didn’t appear until we were digging into dessert.

Barley SWINE opens at 6 p.m. The no-reservations policy means you best get there early, or you’ll be facing an hour-plus wait for a seat.

[Side note: I wonder how well waiting outside in the sweltering Austin summer is going over, but in early June, it didn't seem to phase anyone.]

It turns out we didn’t miss Gilmore’s presence one bit. The kitchen was left in the capable hands of sous chef Sam Hellman-Mass (above). We took the last two seats at the counter overlooking the modern galley kitchen.

I asked if I could take pictures during our meal. For a second, I wondered if Hellman-Mass was going to douse me with the pancetta vinaigrette he was spooning over olive oil-poached halibut, but instead he stopped, looked me in the eye and grinned.

“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you for asking. So many people just rudely snap away, so I really appreciate you asking, and yes, you can take pictures.”

The menu changes frequently and Barley SWINE walks the talk of farm-to-table, and as cliche as that term may be, this is the real deal. The chefs are on speed-dial with Austin and surrounding Hill Country farmers and producers.

Gilmore’s reliance on local farmers and producers to stock The Odd Duck is well documented and Barley SWINE is no different.

The staff embraces the local food movement, too. Our server is a gardener, and she helped grow some of the produce on the menu through her work with Urban Roots, a youth farm project based in Austin.

If you’ve seen one marinated olive, you’ve seen them all, except in Barley SWINE’S case, the olives ($4) are infused with smoke from the wood fire that flame-licks many of the dozen or so small plates.

Even the carrots get a turn on the wood grill in this carrot salad with local goat ricotta, almond brown butter and carrot puree ($7).

The portions are small and the staff recommends ordering three dishes per person. Some are rich, such as the crab and soft scrambled egg stuffed pancake (crepe, actually), served with a rich butter sauce, local squash and hen of the woods mushrooms ($13).

Other dishes are clean and light, such as the grilled scallop (one – cut in half), flanking a blistered shishito pepper, with peeled, poached cucumber and herb pesto ($9).

Regarding the swine: there was one pork option; a grilled pork belly with refried beans and octopus salad.

I’m not going to lie; it didn’t appeal to me, although I love refried beans, I like octopus well enough and pork belly rules.

To be fair, my crisp sweetbreads (some of the best I’ve tasted) were garnished with braised bacon, and the halibut dish was dressed in a pancetta (uncured bacon) vinaigrette.

We were full by this time anyway, yet somehow managed to squeeze in an earthy, ash rind local goat cheese with pickled beets, pecans and fennel frond ($5).

And of course, I always make room for dessert: barley-steeped panna cotta with Texas berries and sweetened barley crumbles ($7), a dish that pretty much sums up my thoughts about this Austin newcomer:

Barley SWINE smartly showcases the rich, fertile bounty of the Texas Hill Country with approachable flair.

Details:
Barley SWINE
2024 South Lamar Boulevard
Austin, Texas
512-394-8150
BarleySWINE.com

Tags: Austin dining, Barley Swine, Bryce Gilmore, Food and Wine Top 10 Chef 2011, Sam Hellman-Mass, small plates
Posted in Travel Eats | 2 Comments »

This post started out as a celebration of a rocking taco joint near downtown Austin, Texas.

I fell for the buttercup-cute bungalow house with creaky wooden floors, and after chowing down on a couple of above-average breakfast tacos, I made a mental note to return for the “drowning” flautas — corn tortillas stuffed with meat, rolled tight and deep-fried, and then smothered in chile broth.

As far as I can tell, flautas are the same thing as taquitos, dorados (see Austin’s El Naranjo dorados mentioned here) and also referred to as “El Paso-style” tacos. I’ve also seen them called “rolled tacos” in Phoenix.

But between writing words and posting pictures, I saw a tweet from Kay Marley-Dilworth (@ATXFoodnews on Twitter). She said The Screaming Goat and another independent Austin eatery, Lift Cafe, had closed.

So now this post is a eulogy.

I don’t know why The Goat closed but it wasn’t busy when we visited. I chalked it up to timing — a mid-week, mid-morning breakfast taco run.

Crazy, really, because the breakfast tacos were just as munch-worthy as those from other Austin bellwether establishments like Torchy’s Tacos and Taco Deli. The salsas were even better.

Two layers of moist corn tortillas, generously piled with a choice of two fillings (eggs, potatoes, cheese, beans, bacon or spicy chorizo) for only a buck seventy?

Hard to beat — or so I thought.

So what happened?

Was it the location? Was the food inconsistent? Later I saw comments on Twitter and Facebook that said “Austin is a tough restaurant town.”

Isn’t every town?

It reminded me of a cool little Mexican spot near downtown Phoenix I reviewed for PHOENIX Magazine called Verde.

Verde seemed to have lots going for it. Two talented, dedicated owners, some tasty Mexican food, and a urban-esque hip setting.

Like The Screaming Goat, the only thing that seemed to be missing was a steady stream of customers.

Tags: Austin dining, PHOENIX Magazine, restaurant closure, Screaming Goat, tacos, Verde
Posted in Travel Eats | 4 Comments »

When I head to Austin, I have two foodstuffs on my brain: Barbecue and tacos. The town is a mecca for smoky ‘cue and tortilla-wrapped eats.

So when our friends suggested we try Justine’s Brasserie, a French place located in an industrial part of town, I wasn’t convinced it was where we should spend one of our precious few dining opportunities.

Boy, was I wrong. Justine’s is utterly charming, and the food is quintessentially French comfort. I can’t imagine it being more lovely if it was tucked away on a side street in Paris.

Inside is dark and cozy — and very loud when it’s crowded. Even more captivating is dining al fresco on the expansive lawn.

By “lawn” I mean the gravel yard dotted with wrought-iron tables, lacy and painted white, and wobbly French garden wooden chairs.

The gravel is perfect for a game of pétanque alongside the house, metal balls waiting patiently for old men in berets to pick them up.

A long wooden bench sits near the front of the property, covered by a black and white striped canopy with matching curtains.

It was occupied by a group of artists, musicians and actors the evening of our visit, friends of the owner Pierre Pelegrin and his artist wife Justine.

They could have easily been a band of circus performers from another time, their clothes vintage and eclectic. I found myself glancing at them as the sun fell from the sky, casting a surreal glow over their smiling faces as they clinked glasses, laughed and shared bites of the charcuterie board passed around the table.

I wanted to join this merry troupe, maybe even run away with them.

But what was happening at my own table was theater, too.

What’s a country French meal without a French rosé? Justine’s offers two, by the glass or bottle, including a crisp, dry Le Poussin.

A crock of bubbling French onion soup took my breath away: Gruyère perfectly blistered, melded into a crouton of once-crusty French bread, harboring a thyme-scented beef broth rich with caramelized onions. Mon Dieu!

Chive-flecked quenelles of poached cod sat high on a silky blanket of tomato and leek sauce. Humble crawfish crowned the top, posing as if they were lobster. A casual dish that put on regal airs — and pulled it off.

It was the evening’s special, and indeed lived up to its name.

The Gruyère smothered Royale burger was juicy, meaty and proud of it’s toasted brioche bun. The crisp exterior of the herb and sea salt dusted fries gave way to a soft, fluffy interior. I wanted to eat a bucket of them.

Long after we left Justine’s, I kept playing the scene over in my head, thinking about the simple flavors that still lingered on my tongue.

I thought about the guillotine that sits stoically on the edge of the lawn, illuminated by the last golden rays of the day’s sun.

Was it a reminder that French food need not be fussy or aristocratic to be thrilling?

Justine’s Brasserie

4710 E. Fifth

Austin, TX

512-385-2900

Side note: Justine’s website is mesmerizing …. flickering images of not G-rated cinema. It’s hard to navigate, but hover your mouse over the name in the upper left corner and a drop down menu appears.

Tags: Austin dining, French Bistro, French Brasserie Austin, Justine's, Justine's Brasserie
Posted in Travel Eats | No Comments »

Mention Texas, and visions of smoky barbecue dance in my head.

I once heard that the very first barbecue that passes your lips forever defines what you consider the best ‘cue.

If that’s true, tender Texas brisket, smoked low and slow, charred on the outside with a visible pink smoke ring on the inside, is my idea of the perfect ‘cue. I grew up on the stuff.

For the second year in a row, I got my fill of Texas ‘cue at the BBQ Crash Course, a SXSW-sanctioned function held at Emo’s in Austin.

What’s special about the crash course is not a what, it’s a who, as in who bellies up to the bar — in this case, it’s a who’s who among Texas Hill Country smoke houses.

Normally, it would take at least two full days to get to all six of these barbecue beacons, and here they were, all gathered in one gritty, downtown Austin bar.

Rated number #1 by Texas Monthly, Snow’s BBQ from Lexington (only open on Saturday mornings) was there, with their special cut of brisket and coarse beef sausage.

Lockheart’s Smitty’s Market was there, too. And Louie Mueller from Taylor. And R.O.’s Outpost from Spicewood (with possibly the best apple-jalapeno pie ever).

Two Austin-based ‘cue giants were carving up meat as well: The County Line, with Flintstones-sized beef ribs and smoked turkey and Franklin, with their divine brisket and famous espresso bbq sauce, and a juicy, pulled pork and creamy slaw.

If that wasn’t enough ‘cue (clearly it wasn’t — can you really ever get enough?) we had the pleasure of tooling around with Austinite Gloria Corral, who just authored a new book called Barbecue Lover’s Guide to Austin.

Gloria took us to an old-school BBQ haunt, Sam’s BBQ, in central East Austin, and introduced us to Willie Mays, Sam’s son, who runs the joint.

Painted on the front is an appropriate slogan, “You don’t need no teeth to eat my beef!”

Hundreds of photographs, some yellowed and curling are tacked to the wall. The smell of smoke hangs heavy in the air.

Granted, the combo plate ain’t purdy to look at, but the fatty brisket (we asked for fatty specifically, instead of a lean cut) was sublime. I wasn’t crazy about the too-soft sausage, but I could eat a mound of the creamy mustard potato salad and the chile-flavored beans. And I can’t even begin to describe how glorious the charred brisket was.

That, partner, is serious Texas ‘cue.

The thing is, there is great barbecue all over Texas, but especially so in Austin and the surrounding Texas Hill Country.

In fact, Gloria profiled more than 70 barbecue joints in a 30-mile radius in her new book. Handily, it’s organized by location with maps included.

If you’re saddling up in Austin anytime soon, don’t forget to pack your boots… leave your belt at home… and grab a copy of the new Barbecue Lovers Guide to Austin.

Yee haw, y’all.

Tags: Austin BBQ, Austin dining, BBQ Lovers Guide to Austin, Franklin BBQ, Gloria Corral, Louie Mueller BBQ, RO Outpost BBQ, Sams BBQ, Smittys Market, Snows BBQ, The County Line BBQ
Posted in Travel Eats | No Comments »

“You have to try Iliana’s food before you leave Austin,” our friends said a year ago, when we were in town for SXSW.

Iliana de la Vega is a chef instructor at the San Antonio branch of the Culinary Institute of America, and in March of 2010, she and her husband opened el naranjo, a mobile food trailer on the southeastern edge of downtown.

We wandered over to Rainey Street to find this have-to-try food our friends raved about, but the trailer was closed. We found out later they opened for business the day we left.

Fast forward a year, we’re back in Austin, and the first place I want to hit is el naranjo. On an early Thursday evening, we’re in luck.

El naranjo is open and dishing out exciting Mexican street food in a city known for abundant Mexican food.

Before Vega joined the staff at the CIA where she teaches Latin cuisines, she owned a popular restaurant in Oaxaca with the same name (translation: the orange).

Vega commutes to San Antonio from Austin to teach while her family runs the food trailer, but on weekends, you’ll find her running the small kitchen in the trailer.

The menu is simple — mostly tacos — but this is no Tex-Mex fare. Appetizers are either fried empanadas stuffed with mushrooms, serrano and epazote, or a bowl of soup (tortilla the evening we visited) or guacamole.

The generous portion of chunky guacamole ($6) is made-to-order and served with fresh fried tortilla chips (above). Since it’s made after you order, it takes a few minutes to arrive, but the vibrant lime and cilantro-flecked, buttery avocado mash is well worth the wait.

The tacos dorados (above) are three rolled and deep fried corn tortillas stuffed with either res (shredded beef) pollo (shredded chicken) or papa (goat cheese mashed potatos). ($6.75)

I order one of each flavor, and while the beef and chicken are note worthy, I fell in love with the chunky mashed potatoes tinged with goat cheese and parsley. It’s a perfect mix of crisp tortilla and soft, tangy filling.

The pork for the tacos al pastor is cooked on a trompo (above), a vertical spit roaster with pineapple.

The marinated, juicy pork is shaved off the spit and stuffed into warm, moist corn tortillas and served with chopped pineapple, cilantro and white onion. ($6.50 for 2)

A menu board lists the day’s special and we jumped at the chance to try a Puebla specialty, pipián verde, with shredded chicken (above).

The sauce is made with ground roasted sesame seeds, pumpkin seeds and peanuts, cooked with tart tomatillos and fresh hoja santo leaves, which give the dish a faint licorice flavor. ($11.50) Don’t expect a spice bite from this dish — it’s mild and nutty, almost creamy.

Settle at one of the picnic tables on the gravel lawn with a Mexican soda, or get your food to go and walk next door to the urban chic Icenhauer’s for a local draft beer or “the linda” margarita with Patron reposado tequila, lime juice and chile infused syrup.

I’m already planning a return trip to sample the few things I missed, like tacos tasajo (Oaxacan-style salted, dried beef) and tacos de camaron estilo Istmo (shrimp tacos with slaw and chipotle flavored Mexican crema).

Our friends were right. We had to try el naranjo. If you’re in Austin, you should, too.

el naranjo

85 Rainey Street
Austin, TX
512-474-2776

Tags: Austin dining, Downtown Austin dining, El Naranjo, Iliana de la Vega, Mexican, pipian verde, tacos dorados
Posted in Travel Eats | 6 Comments »

As brick and mortar behemoth bookstores battle the new publishing model, specifically monster sales portals like Amazon, a matchbox-size cookbook store in San Francisco is thriving.

In this case, thriving means the owner is paying her rent and pocketing some change while pursuing her passion — not necessarily bankrolling millions.

Wait. A cookbook book store? Yes, San Francisco’s Omnivore Books is a bookstore that stocks only cookbooks and other food & drink books.

It wasn’t that uncommon 10 years ago, but today, cookbook-only stores are either dying (LA’s The Cook’s Library closed in 2009) or carving out small, successful niches.

So far, Omnivore is in the latter category, along with Kitchen Arts and Letters in New York, The Cookbook Stall in Philadelphia and Books for Cooks in London.

San Francisco native Ceila Sack, owner of Omnivore Books, knows a thing or two about books. Especially old books.

She was a rare book specialist at an auction house before she opened Omnivore Books in late 2008. Her specialty was food books.

Sack knew she would never make it if she only carried antiquarian books, but what if she mixed in old cookbooks with new cookbooks?

“I knew I would attract a larger audience if I had new books, and along the way, I could introduce people to the older books,” she says. Has it worked?

Yes, Sack says. She can show her customers a canning book from the turn of the century, then another one from the wartime 1940′s, and finally one published recently, a what’s-old-is-new canning book.

“It’s amazing to see the progression,” she says. And she loves watching her customers make the connection from old to new.

Sack may love antiquarian books, but her methods of enticing people to her Noe Valley neighborhood store are modern. She leverages Twitter and Facebook along with an email mailing list of customers.

“Social media has made a huge difference in my business,” Sack says.

Not surprising. In November, her Facebook page boasted a picture with the tagline “Check out who stopped by yesterday.” The picture was former Gourmet magazine editor Ruth Reichl.

On March 17, Grant Achatz and Nick Kokonas, founders of Alinea in Chicago are “stopping by” for a chat — a sold-out chat, but Sack promised in her email newsletter that anyone who wanted a signed copy of their new book, Life, on The Line, could have one.

You just have to call and reserve a book. With a credit card, of course.

Another inventive business tactic, Sack started a cookbook club in 2010. It’s a signed cookbook club, and every three months for those who join, Sack will mail a signed cookbook from an author that’s come by to give a talk.

Four books a year, for $160. For cookbook collectors, it’s a deal. Sack picks the books, customizing each pick to the customer’s profile. It averages $40 per book (shipping is included).

Next time you are in San Francisco, plan a side trip to Omnivore Books. The bookstore is just steps from the J Church Muni Metro route, and as an added incentive, the world class Tartine Bakery is a short 20-minute walk away.

You’ll find Sack chatting with a customer about the latest, greatest cookbook or — even more likely — pointing out some of the rare gems in her cracker box store.

Omnivore Books
3885a Cesar Chavez Street
415-282-4712
San Francisco, CA

Tags: Books For Cooks, Cecila Sack, cookbook store, Kitchen Arts and Letters, Omnivore Books, San Francisco, signed cookbook club, The Cookbook Stall
Posted in Travel Eats | 6 Comments »

Ah, spaghetti with clams cooked with white wine from a Venetian restaurant. There is something to be said for eating clams pulled from the sea that morning. OK, there is something to be said for eating pasta in Venice. Period.

Before my first trip to Italy, I had this image in my head about the pasta. I pictured eating in charming mom & pop trattorias, with mamma in the corner rolling out pasta by hand.

I never saw that image come to life. Most of the time we dined al fresco because the street scenes were too compelling. When we did eat indoors, the kitchen was usually hidden behind closed doors.

There are 350 different pasta shapes and I wanted to try a variety of ones I wasn’t familiar with, but in the end, I ordered more for the other ingredients than the pasta.

Many times, I ordered dishes surely made with dried pasta rather than fresh pasta. Nonetheless, I never ordered a mediocre dish.

Even a simple rigatoni pomodoro from a Roman restaurant in the Trastevere area was sublime. It tasted as if it was finished in a seasoned cast iron skillet with loads of garlic.

When we hit Bologna, I was on the hunt for authentic bolognese, and below is four samples of this classic meat and pasta sauce.

All four were different, yet all were the same. Eat enough bolognese, and you can recognize the taste with your eyes closed — meaty and less tomato-y than you’d think.

One of my favorite dishes was spaghetti carbonara from a Roman trattoria. The egg was barely cooked, resulting in a silky texture, and the salty pancetta cut through the richness.

Siena is known for pici — thick, hand-rolled pasta that looks like bloated spaghetti strands. This version was served with wild boar ragu — and a glass of Chianti, of course.

In Castellina in Chianti, north of Siena, we slurped on spinach ravioli (top left) and in Parma we had the only lasagne (spinach) of the trip.

In Florence, we ducked into a tiny trattoria on a narrow side street and had cheese tortellini with black olives (bottom left), and in Venice, we tried ink squid spaghetti at Alla Madonna, but only because it was what the gondola guys were eating.

I kept wanting to close my eyes to eat it — and it should never be eaten when wearing white — but I would order it again in a heartbeat.

In Vernazza (Cinque Terre), we tried another version of ink squid pasta, only this time, it was black chittara (square spaghetti) made with squid ink, tossed with tomatoes, garlic and minced clams.

At an upscale trattoria in Bologna, we had rigatoni with canocce, a sea creature that resembles a cross between a crayfish and a lobster. The little suckers were chopped with the shells on, so it made eating it awkward. The server assured me that I was to pick them up and gnaw on them. I was more than happy to dive into the deeply flavored dish and lick my fingers clean.

I kept wondering what kind of pasta home cooks used, so in every town, I’d duck into the grocery stores and take a look around.

Every grocery store had rows and rows of shelves dedicated to dried pastas. The brand I saw most often?

Barilla.

Tags: eating in Italy, Italy, pasta, Travel Eats
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