My middle-west: Gatsby Day in Ann Arbor

The Great Gatsby is one of my favorite books of all time. I can’t even remember the first time I read it, but I think it was in eighth or ninth grade. I know I never had to read it in school. I *think* Uncle Tom told me to read it (this would be around the same time he told me to read On the Road – Uncle T. has pretty great taste in books). I’m pretty sure my first copy which has long since went missing came from Gran’s basement.

I hadn’t read the book for a few years when we moved to Connecticut in 2007. A late-night conversation in Hanafin’s Pub with several literary-minded friends (Kevin Doyle or Amanda Lester or Scott Rottinghaus) inspired me to re-read it then. To a midwesterner living on the Long Island Sound, Nick Carraway and his musings on the east coast being a different place suddenly became a little more relatable.

Gatsby infatuation reached a frenzy in our crowd that year when Kevin started throwing his annual Gatsby parties. Held on/around the solstice (“the longest day of the year”), the Gatsby party was the opportunity we all wanted to wear (in some cases extravagant) costumes, experiment with mixing prohibition-era cocktails, and play yard games such as bocce ball and croquet – Kevin’s yard was a bit small for Tom Buchanan’s beloved polo ponies; also, we weren’t actually rich enough for polo.

Gatsby 2009. New London, CT

(By the end of these nights, the boys would be wearing the sequined headbands, we’d be drinking rum and cokes or vodka tonics, and the croquet contingent would have moved on to beer pong – still, we were classy up to that point.)

When we moved back to Michigan, I made two attempts to re-imagine the Gatsby party here, but it never quite translated – simply put, a Gatsby party is an East Coast garden party, not a Midwestern bar party. Not that they weren’t fun in their own ways; they just weren’t quite right.

Gatsby 2011, Ypsilanti, MI

Despite reading the book multiple times and attending/throwing multiple themed parties, I had never watched Gatsby on film. Part of this is because Mia Farrow kind of creeps me out (I can’t explain it) and partly because Robert Redford just seemed a little bland. The movie itself seemed like it would be a little bland. I just never had any desire to watch it (though when in Newport, I did visit Rosecliff, the house where several scenes were filmed). 

Rosecliff, Newport, RI

Then, a year or two ago, people started talking about a new Gatsby, this time helmed by Baz “Mouling Rouge” Luhrmann. Baz + Gatsby sounded anything BUT bland.

I kept tabs on the movie for the next year and a half or so. The main cast was announced. Leo as Gatsby! (That could work, I thought.) Tobey as Nick! (That seemed weirdly perfect, actually.) Carey Mulligan for Daisy! (This one sold me; I loved her in An Education.) I got hyped up for a Christmas 2012 release date…only to have it pushed back to May. (This was ultimately a good thing; otherwise I would have spent Christmas day holed up in a movie theater watching Leo wear the heck out of his pastel suits in two movies – Django Unchained was released the same day and I’m a huge Tarantino fan – instead of with my family.) 

Gatsby day drew closer. I re-read the book (I actually hadn’t read it since 2008). I started to get nervous. Would it be TOO cartoony? Would Tom Buchanan be too much of a buffoon-y racist? Would the Gatsby/Daisy romance be treated as something much more innocent and romantic than it actually is? Reviews were not helping (they never do, though, do they?).

Ralph also re-read the book, though he fails to see what all the fuss is about.

No matter how I ultimately ended up feeling about this movie, I was determined to see it. I gathered up some girls – girls, who I might add, have been very supportive of my obsession with Gatsby/Fitzgerald/cocktail-mixing/costume-wearing/theme parties/etc. – and we headed downtown to the Michigan Theater, Ann Arbor’s beautifully-restored 1920’s movie palace and the only place in town I could fathom seeing this film (sorry, Rave Motion Pictures and your stadium seating). 

The Michigan Theater marquee

While I didn’t go full costume (I would have had we gone on opening night, no doubt), I did deck myself out a feathered hair piece, several long, tasseled necklaces and an absurd amount of makeup for 4:00 p.m. (Actually, we all showed up in a lot of makeup and blingy headbands – lingering after-effects of the previous years’ parties, I guess.)

(This next portion contains plot spoilers – if you’re not familiar and want to be surprised, I’d suggest you stop here just to be safe.)

The good parts of The Great Gatsby were indeed great: it was visually stunning; I loved the stylized depictions of Long Island and New York City and the miserable valley of ashes. One of my favorite scenes from an aesthetic standpoint was when Nick walks in to the Buchanans’ house and into the room where Daisy and Jordan are languishing on the couch: the flowing white drapes, the breeze, the laziness of the women in white dresses, the bejeweled hands draped over the couch…that was Fitzgerald’s slightly magical description somehow brought perfectly to life.

The casting was spot-on. Gastby himself has always been a hard character for me to formulate visually in my mind; I thought Leo nailed it. Young-ish, handsome but not TOO perfect-looking, capable of the occasional crazy eyes, the ability to appear extremely vulnerable AND extremely confident…loved him. (Although having recently seen Django, I did sort of expect him to invite everyone into the parlor for WHite cake.) Jordan Baker looked exactly how I wanted her to look – she even looked a little sneaky, though the movie largely avoids those small mentions of her character. Carey Mulligan was a wonderful Daisy – she has such an interesting face and expressive eyes. However, my favorite from a casting perspective was far and away Joel Edgerton as Tom Buchanan. I think I gasped when he walked onscreen with that pervy little mustache and those fantastic riding boots. The looks were right and he nailed the character – he’s a bigot with a mixed-up moral code, but he doesn’t veer into cartoon territory.

Joel Edgerton as Tom Buchanan

The bad…well, the framing device (Nick in the nuthouse; Nick writing a novel) was totally lame. The typed words appearing on the screen were beyond cheesy. I get that we want – even need – Nick’s first-person narration; this just seemed like such a cop-out way to provide it…not that I have any better suggestions. Also, some things were a bit too literal…do we really have to show Gatsby physically reaching toward the green light?

I thought Daisy’s hard edge was softened a bit. A favorite scene of mine in the novel is when Nick describes seeing Tom and Daisy sitting at the table eating cold fried chicken and talking quietly together after the big hotel blowout. To me, that scene sums up Daisy: she loves attention and she loves drama and she probably does love Gatsby a little bit, but she can walk away from anything. The scene (sort of) appears in the movie, but it doesn’t translate the same way it does for me in the book. However, the Gatsby/Daisy romance is not simplified/overplayed the way I feared it would be, so overall I was pretty happy.

There’s been a lot of discussion over the movie’s use of modern music – it’s distracting at first, but once you settle in to the style of the film, it works. You just have to go with it. (If anyone remembers that Heath Ledger monstrosity A Knight’s Tale, this is wayyyyyy less jarring than when David Bowie starts playing at the ball.)

Overall impression? I liked it. A LOT. Maybe even loved it. I’ll probably (read: will) see it again and find more things to both swoon over and pick at. It’s over the top and a little melodramatic, but hey, so is the book.

Also, if you see this movie in Ann Arbor, go to the Raven’s Club after viewing – the lack of signage, dark room and bulbous light fixtures will make you feel like you’re in a speakeasy and the cocktail menu and glassware will only enhance that feeling. You can order the “Old Pal” (if you like whiskey, that is) and refer to it as the “Old Sport”… but just so you know, your companions/waitress will think that gets old fast.

The Old Sport – I mean, Old Pal

Cocktails and Cat Tails

I think I’m going to start a video series. I’m going to dress up in one of my retro dresses, put on some red lipstick, get out some of my retro glassware, and go through the process of making a cocktail. Oh, and there will be cats. Why, you ask? Well, because A) I have to justify having all this retro stuff SOMEHOW and B) Ralph is very interested in cocktails.

This may be a slight exaggeration. Ralph was not at all interested in Sidecars or in Classic Martinis (posts on those drinks forthcoming). He was, however, extremely interested in Brandy Alexanders – no surprise there, seeing as how there was cream involved – and, strangely enough, Old Fashioneds and especially Manhattans.

Apparently Ralph loves rye whiskey. Or maybe he loves bitters. I don’t know – but if I sit down with a Manhattan, he’s on my lap immediately.

That cat has great taste. Better than some people I know. And PS – if I make “Cocktails and Cat Tails” will anyone watch? Even if it is just to laugh at me?

An old-fashioned blog post

(Hey there. Yes, it’s me…you probably don’t remember me, seeing as I haven’t blogged since October – EARLY October –  but can we just chalk it up to blogger burnout and move forward? Seriously though, I’m back, and I’ll try to be better. K, thanks!)

So, Mad Men is back – and it turns out that Don Draper going through creative withdrawal and a major midlife crisis is great for inspiration. First of all, I get to look at Don – and Roger, who has always been more my type. YUM. Second, I can revel in Peggy, my homely copywriter counterpart (though much more creative than I) finally using everything Don has taught her (“Change the conversation” – arrow to the heart, Drapes!). Third, I bought The Unofficial Mad Men Cookbook for $3.99 on Amazon and Rikster and I are now spending every Sunday perfecting our retro cocktail skills.

This book is a highly entertaining read. It’s part kitschy cookbook, part obsessive-fan bible and part historical diary. Each entry, based on a dish or restaurant featured or prominently mentioned in a Mad Men episode, is meticulously documented and researched. The authors not only chronicle the episode that the dish/restaurant appeared in; they track down the menus of the time or where the recipe may have been published. If it’s a cocktail or appetizer being discussed, they find the magazine recipe driving housewives crazy or the restaurant that popularized the drink.

Anyway, I’ve been completely enamored with the book and in withdrawal from my favorite show (although The Americans has been somewhat filling my TV void…and god forbid, who knew that TNT would revive Dallas and it would be so damn enjoyable?!) so when the season six premiere came along, it seemed like the a great opportunity to prove that those who can read can DO.

No television event would be complete without the presence of the Rikster – always game for celebrity gossip (yes, we discussed the “Hammaconda“) and cocktail experiments. For the premier, we decided to go with the Don Draper fave, the Old Fashioned.

We probably should have used Canadian Club for authenticity, but I stumbled upon a bottle of Bulleit Rye at Meijer that afternoon, so Bulleit it was. Other than that, we stuck to the cookbook recipe – orange, sugar, bitters and maraschino cherry (although we  did use imported Luxardo cherries; sometimes you can’t take the Zingerman’s out of the girl) muddled with just enough soda to wet everything (thank you, SodaStream) topped with the rye and more club soda. We went old school with our glassware – I found these babies in my favorite Noblesville, IN, antique store – but modernized with large circular ice cubes.

In short, we were pretty happy.

A few days later, I started to feel a little disloyal. After all, I professed my love for Roger Sterling for five seasons and then for the season six premiere I made DON’S drink? I felt like I owed it to Rog – especially with his mom dying and Joanie ignoring him and his daughter hitting up for cash – to at least make his favorite drink. Luckily, I was not going to climb a zillion flights of stairs, so I figured my chance of heart attack was slim to none. Therefore, I used the last of my precious Bombay Sapphire to mix a classic gin martini, once again using the cookbook’s method.

I loved the drink, but to be honest, I loved using my vintage martini pitcher (from the Eastern Market antique store) and my coupe glasses (relics rescued from my family’s Orange Lantern bar) even more.

I acknowledge I used Mad Men as a crutch for this post – but in the end, does it really matter where inspiration actually comes from as long as one is inspired to do something? Rikster and I are mixing up cocktails every week, so look for more of these – along with the restaurant, cooking, travel and cat adventures that you used to know (and hopefully love).

Wild, wild (midwest): Day 2

Rikster and I can be pretty determined people when we set our minds to it, and we were determined that, on the Sunday morning following our Salmon Festival/Salt of the Earth excursion, we were going to drink coffee on Susan’s deck while we watched the waves crash on the beach. The fact that it was *maybe* 50 degrees with high winds didn’t deter us from finishing one round of cappuccinos before we finally called it quits and went inside, where keeping our coffees warm proved much less of an undertaking.

The beach

Going inside also offered the opportunity to heat up a little breakfast treat we had procured at the restaurant: Salt of the Earth’s famous Wood Fire Toasted S’more, a ridiculous concoction of homemade marshmallow, graham cracker crumb, chocolate pudding, salted caramel and spice cake.

Breakfast of champions

Susan reheated the dessert in her toaster oven, and the size was perfect to split amongst the three of us. Letting it rest overnight had allowed the cake to absorb all the caramel-y, chocolate-y goodness, and the warm, gooey marshmallow provided an ideal topping. Combined with our coffee, it was an excellent breakfast for a chilly fall morning.

Properly fueled by sugar and caffeine, we asked Susan to lead us down her beach to hunt for beach glass. We were hoping the night’s wind and wave action had churned up some sizable pieces. We hit the jackpot almost immediately.

Rikster’s beach glass!

We hiked back down the boardwalk, admiring the scenery and the waves and making sure that Trixie, Susan’s cat who had followed us on our little excursion, didn’t get blown out to sea.

Walking back to the house against the wind works up an appetite, even for those who have just gorged on a sugar bomb. Susan had an idea in mind for lunch, however, and allowed us to sit at the table and read magazines while she assembled a beautiful antipasti platter comprised of Ortiz tuna, salami, fresh mozzarella, vegetables from a neighbor’s garden, hardboiled eggs and an assortment of crackers. We washed it down with a glass of crisp white wine, and Susan led us in to town to continue on our weekend adventure.

My mouth is watering again…

Salute! Susan’s awesome antique store glassware.

We had decided to check another lighthouse off our list, so we headed to South Haven Beach, home of the South Haven Lighthouse. The weather, which had been fairly mild up to that point, immediately kicked into high gear when we set foot on the sands: the wind whipped, the skies darkened, and the waves started to get crazy. Once again, we set out down the pier, snapped our obligatory photo, and then attempted to make our way back without dying.

Yes, it’s a different one than the last post.

We explored the town a bit before beginning our southeastern journey home. Susan had advised us to take “the back way” from South Haven to Kalamazoo, which in addition to giving us easy access to the town of Paw Paw would lead us right to downtown Kzoo. We took her recommendation and were well on our way when we drove past the Paw Paw Brewing Company.

How could you NOT stop here?

The brewery appeared to be in a trailer. It was extremely small and rested uncomfortably close to the road. Needless to say, we could not resist stopping. This proved to be a great call because it ended up being our favorite overall brewery experience of the entire trip.

The crowd seemed to be made up mostly of regulars, including a trio of senior citizens with acoustic guitars having a jam session in the back room. We sat at the bar and ordered a flight of all ten brews currently being served. We immediately hit it off with the bartender, a girl of maybe 25 who was very candid about what she liked and didn’t like and didn’t hesitate to climb up on a precariously-placed bar stool to check sizes on some of the merch.

“The usual”

We found most of the beers to be pleasant and non-offensive to the taste buds. We enjoyed the Twisted Pumpkin – not as spicy as New Holland’s offering but with a pronounced pumpkin flavor. The stout was a much better entry into the category than our last brewery (Saugatuck) had offered – this one had some weight to it and a wonderful flavor that I can only describe as “breakfasty.”

Then our bartender poured us a special treat:

Root beer!

Root beer! Paw Paw Brewing Company’s house-made root beer tastes like candy. As a delighted Rikster put it, “Buddy the Elf would approve!”

Now, those who know me know that I do not have much of a sweet tooth. The sugar bomb s’more for breakfast combined with post-lighthouse ice cream (Did I leave that part out – that part where Riki and I decided to warm up in an ice cream parlor?) combined with root beer added up to a lot more sweet stuff than I normally consume. Throw in the espresso from the morning…

Rikster wasn’t immune to the sugar high, either – hence the incredible amount of giggling and our decision to stop at an appeared-to-be-deserted winery in the middle of nowhere not in spite of but because it “could be a Texas Chainsaw experience” (quote: Rikster).

Well, once we got inside the winery (Lawton Ridge) we found that it was not creepy at all –  just a slightly over-decorated tasting room and a very nice woman behind the counter that guided us through the wines, some of which we found quite pleasant. I left with a bottle of the AZO Red, a pleasant fruity blend with a peppery kick on the finish.

Heading into Kalamazoo, we knew that we couldn’t in good conscience have a brewery weekend without a stop at Michigan’s craft beer mothership, Bell’s – home of Oberon, Two Hearted, and several other long-standing Michigan favorites.

Bell’s sampler

We ordered the usual sampler and lined up our choices, ranging from stout to mead. Yes, you read that correctly – mead. I was skeptical at first, but I trust the Rikster’s judgment. And she was – as usual – completely on-target. I was afraid that the mead would be cloying and syrupy, but was instead treated to a lightly sweet honey flavor with a light weight and clean finish. The rest of the lineup was solid, if not particularly memorable.

With the beer and wine tasting portion of our trip complete, we made one last stop – this time for dinner. The original plan was to try out Dark Horse Brewing Company in Marshall – this plan was thwarted by the fact that Dark Horse A) doesn’t offer a sampler and B) was incredibly crowded. Not feeling the vibe, Riki and I decided to get our senior citizen on and head to Schuler’s, a behemoth historic mansion with a dark pub (Winston’s) in the basement. We indulged in a plate of Schuler’s famous bar cheese and a couple filling sandwiches before getting back in the car to head home – this time with no stops along the way.

The signs of a great weekend/

Thank you Riki for providing so many of the photos used in these two posts!

Wild, wild (mid)west: Day 1

Rikster and I had a small case of the end-of-summer blahs recently; thus we decided the only cure was more cowbell a road trip to the southwestern side of the state (if you read this blog with any regularity, you know we make the trek north fairly frequently). We decided to drive up to Grand Haven for the annual Salmon Festival, work our way through several small towns, and end up in South Haven, where we’d bunk with my Aunt Susan for the night.

Before our departure, we obsessively researched the area and put together a rather eclectic list of must-sees, mainly comprised of microbreweries and lighthouses. We set off at 9:00 a.m. last Saturday, pumpkin spice and salted caramel lattes in hand.

The total driving time from Ann Arbor to Grand Haven clocked in at right around three hours, with no stops on the way. We easily found a parking spot in a municipal lot and set about exploring the town while we waited for the salmon festivities to begin. We quickly stumbled upon the first item on our checklist, Odd Side Ales.

Odd Side Ales is tucked away in what appears to be an office building, but once you get inside, the atmosphere is much more what you’d expect from a brewery: lots of dark wood, chalkboard menu, etc. Odd Side is known for the use of slightly unconventional ingredients – pineapple, peanut butter, and habenero, for example (thankfully not all in one brew). We split a sampler of the seven beers on tap that day. The Mayan Mocha Stout was the standout: velvety texture, balanced coffee/chocolate flavors, and a serious burst of heat on the finish.

Odd Side Ales sampler

By the time we finished our sampling, the Salmon Festival Cook-off and Wine Tasting was beginning. We met up with our friends Rob and Sandi and headed toward the huge white tent set up in the marina parking lot. For $20 per ticket, we were each given a souvenir wine glass, three drink tasting tickets and five food tasting tickets.  Ten local restaurants/caterers/markets were preparing various salmon dishes, which could be purchased for one ticket each. Several wineries and distributors were there with various Michigan-made products, pouring two ounces per ticket. A number of free samples rounded out the offerings, including a giant vegetable tower, fresh-baked bread and (perhaps best of all) Blue Moon ice cream.

It was a little crowded in the tent, but the vendors kept the lines moving and there was plenty of room to spread out outside. The portion sizes were generous – for example, D&W Market was offering a whole salmon roll. The offerings were varied – we tried everything from salmon salad with capers, fennel and lots of crunchy red onion (a great mix of flavors) to a bacon-wrapped salmon/jalapeno popper (the festival equivalent of “bar food” and actually quite delicious). The majority of the food was interesting without being gimmicky and really let the salmon flavor shine through. Our group thought this food festival definitely gave you good bang for your buck in comparison to similar events.

A sampling of salmon cook-off offerings

Sated with salmon, Rikster and I bid Rob and Sandi farewell and made our way down the street to Grand Haven Beach, home of the Grand Haven Lighthouse. The wind had picked up drastically, causing dramatic waves and wreaking havoc on the seagulls struggling to make headway into the wind.

Grand Haven Beach

Grand Haven Beach

We paused briefly to consider this sign + the gale-force winds:

Hmmmm.

Then we continued down the pier anyway. We tried to stay in the middle and out of the way of the waves that were crashing in a very picturesque yet more-than-slightly-dangerous manner over the sides of the pier. We snapped our obligatory photo at the base of the lighthouse, then made the executive decision that we had gone far enough and hurriedly yet cautiously made out way back.

Grand Haven Lighthouse

The road NOT taken

We had the wind at our backs trekking back to the car, although we managed to get so caught up in scenery and conversation that we trekked right past our parking lot. Our clue that we had gone too far:

Um, how far west did we go?

While we hadn’t managed to wander all the way to California, we knew we would have definitely remembered walking by a (fake) palm tree, so we turned back into the wind and eventually found the Subaru. After emptying the folds of our clothing from all the sand that the winds had wedged in there, we were back on the road – heading in a southern direction, toward Holland.

The salmon-coma was starting to wear off and we figured it was a good time for a snack…and more beer. The logical choice? New Holland Brewing Company, where we could indulge both impulses at the craft brewery and distillery’s expansive downtown pub.

Once again, we ordered a sampler of six beers, plus a small bacon-potato pizza. The pizza was amazing – crispy crust, thin-sliced potatoes baked to perfection, sprinkles of gorgonzola and bacon, and topped with fresh spinach. The small proved to be the ideal snack size – two small pieces each of pure comfort food.

New Holland Bacon and Potato Pizza

Our beer selections were equally satisfying. We had more to choose from here than at Odd Side, so our primary goal was making sure that a variety of styles were represented. I enjoyed the Poet stout immensely: a weighty (but not chewy), smooth (but not watery) mouth feel and a pleasant roasted flavor were highlights. Rikster immediately gravitated toward the seasonal Ichabod Pumpkin Ale, which had a clove and nutmeg finish that I haven’t tasted in most pumpkin beers that I’ve tried. Additionally, New Holland is the home of Dragon’s Milk, a cask-aged brew I was introduced to by one of my partners in (food and drink) crime, David: it’s super smooth, with vanilla-y goodness that can only come from oak. It’s also incredibly alcoholic and weighty and I’m not sure I could ever drink more than a small serving.

Sampler/snack at New Holland

Fortified with hearty fare, we were back in the car en route to Saugatuck. Unfortunately, we pulled into the parking lot of the Antique Pavilion after it had closed for the day (Rikster and I had agreed setting out on this adventure that even though we had a number of items on our wish lists, we wouldn’t hurry or rush to get to any one or the other).

The Antique Pavilion

We were in for a treat, however…if you look at the above photo of the Antique Pavilion, you will see that it is attached to another green building…and THAT green building just happened to be the Saugatuck Brewing Company.

Score!

We ordered our standard sampler, once again trying to include all styles represented on the menu. We weren’t impressed with the stout here (a bit watery) but found the Beach Blonde and Scot ales enjoyable.

Saugatuck Sampler

(Don’t worry, dear readers: the beer portion of day one has concluded.)

We had one more stop planned – this one non-negotiable – before calling it a night: we were bound for the tiny town of Fennville to dine at the farm-to-table restaurant, Salt of the Earth.

Specializing in “authentic Midwest American rustic food experiences”, Salt of the Earth has a menu that changes seasonally, offer fresh-baked breads from their own bakery, and an eclectic craft cocktail and bar menu focused heavily (but not exclusively) on Michigan-made beer, wine and spirits.

There was a short wait for a table, but the host was kind enough to offer cocktail service in the waiting area, so we began with a “Midwest Farmer Fizz” – served in a mason jar and comprised of Grand Traverse vodka, elderflower liquor, house-made sour, soda, and herbs, this cocktail had an incredibly fresh, almost vegetal taste. The sour made a huge difference: the drink lacked the cloyingly sweetness found in store-bought mixes – yet without having an assaulting citrus flavor.

Farmer Fizz at Salt of the Earth

Once seated, we ordered the night’s special appetizer, pork belly cooked and sliced in a similar manner to beef brisket. The thin slices of slightly bacon-y tasting pork melted in the mouth, providing a pleasing contrast to the charred edges.

Pork belly

Our entrees were fairly straightforward and simply prepared: hangar steak (deliciously charred on the outside) served with chopped tomato and cucumber, and handkerchief pasta with sausage and sweet peppers.

The true standout of the meal was a side dish – and a surprise: fried brussels sprouts with bacon and balsamic vinegar. Crispy but not burned, tangy but not too much so, Riki and I devoured these like a kid devours candy.

The bounty of our table

We DID order dessert, but you’ll read about that in the day two entry – we ate it for breakfast since at this point we were (understandably) too stuffed to eat one more bite. (I will assure you, however, that the smell of said dessert almost caused us to pull over and devour it roadside, grotesquely stuffed or not.)

And with that, we were off to our final day one destination, Susan’s lake house, where we would watch the end of the Notre Dame game and part of Saturday Night Live before completely crashing in anticipation of day two.

To be continued…

B-L-T! B-L-T!

I made a glorious BLT tonight. It’s the first one I’ve had all summer. Let’s analyze the components:

Assembling the troops.

• The bacon, procured at the last Zingerman’s warehouse sale, was Edwards Hickory Smoked  Bacon – amazingly salty in the best possible way; the perfect choice for a BLT as the saltiness and smokiness spice up the not-so-seasoned bread/tomato/lettuce/mayonnaise.

• The tomato was purchased at the Corn Stand on the corner of Geddess and Harris roads. It was red and plump and juicy – and cheap. Much better than anything from a grocery store.

• BLT lettuce has to be iceberg. No fancy “greens” for me – I need the utilitarian crunch of what I’ve dubbed “the working man’s lettuce.” (Yes, it’s late, I’ve been watching the cliche-filled Olympic broadcasts and I’m drinking wine.)

• Mayonnaise is a point of contention for me. Normally it ranks second-to-last on my condiment scale, surpassed only by ranch dressing (gross, gross, gross). But a thin smear of good old full-fat Hellman’s on toasted bread can take a club sandwich or BLT to another level. (And mix a little pesto with that mayo and you’ve got yourself something entirely different.)

• Bread: I had every intention of going to Zingerman’s Bakehouse for a loaf of farm bread. That didn’t happen. Instead, I stopped at Kroger on my way home and picked up some individual sandwich-sized ciabattas from the bakery section. These little squares of delightfulness proved unexpectedly perfect my purposes – they toasted (well, grilled) up nicely, weren’t too dense or too flaky, and had a nice, yeasty flavor. I was pleasantly surprised.

The bacon was already cooked from last night’s brinner, so really all I did was cut the ciabatta in half and throw it on my “panini press” AKA my mini George Foreman grill (talk about a workhorse – that thing comes in handy more times than I can count), chop the lettuce and tomato – I like to cut the lettuce into thick strips and quarter the tomato slices  (I also blot the tomato so it isn’t quite so wet), and scrape the toasted bread with that ever-so-slight helping of Hellman’s.

The fully assembled product.

Perfection.

 

Taco Heaven

So, as it turns out, there is something of a taco war going on over on the west side of Ann Arbor. I’m not sure that the two parties involved in the taco war realize that it is going on. I’m not sure the patrons of the parties involved in the taco war realize it is happening, either. Before this week, I didn’t realize that either of these two places existed, let alone that both existed and were right around the corner from each other.

The winner? Me, because I ate tacos twice this week and both times were delicious.

To backtrack: I’ve become obsessed with the idea of tacos since I met my friend David, who hails from LA. LA is apparently a magical land of food trucks and taco stands, and as I listened to David tell me about these things, my mouth began to water uncontrollably and I essentially made it my life’s mission to find a taco that did not have a hard shell, cheddar cheese or sour cream.

Enter Taco King and Chela’s. Taco King is located on West Liberty in a building that formerly housed a futon store. Chela’s is a short jaunt down the street, around the corner onto South Maple, in a strip mall. I read about both in the comments section of annarbor.com – NOT a place I normally look for worthwhile recommendations on anything, let alone restaurants. But I saw these places mentioned under an article about a different restaurant, and decided to check them out next time I was on that side of town.

I got my chance to try Taco King post-haircut on Wednesday afternoon. I was driving down Stadium headed back toward my office when I remembered – just in time to make a crazy turn on to W. Liberty – that tacos were in the vicinity. The man that flipped me the bird did nothing to dull my anticipation.

I was in a bit of a hurry, but the lunch counter located in the Tienda La Libertad market wasn’t busy and put together my order quickly. I chose the al pastor (marinated pork) and the chorizo (spicy Mexican sausage). I ordered two of each so I could take them back to David and get the LA opinion.

When I got back to the office and we opened the container, we were delighted to see the tacos packaged in doubled-up corn tortillas (no gluey flour here), bursting with meat, and covered with diced onions and cilantro (does anything smell better than cilantro…I think not). The restaurant had provided fresh limes and salsa verde.

Marinated pork and chorizo tacos at Taco King

The marinated pork was a bit sweeter than I expected, and my LA judge said it was a bit sweeter than he was accustomed to. Still quite tasty, however. The chorizo appeared to be ground rather than diced and had some nice heat on the finish. The cilantro cooled everything down a bit, and the salsa verde provided a but of a kick with the lime adding some zing.

All in all, for $1.50 per taco, we thought this was a pretty good find. Yet we still had to try Chela’s…

Chela’s definitely had a but more ambiance, not being attached to a grocery store. We once again chose chorizo and al pastor tacos, and also threw in some carne asada. According to my LA counterpart, these three taco meats would give us a good gauge on which to judge the restaurant. He also picked up several containers of not only salsa verde but of some spicy-looking red sauce as well.

We started with the Chorizo. This was diced into small cubes, not ground like Taco King’s. Once again, chorizo brought flavorful heat – accentuated by the red sauce we liberally poured over the meat.

Chorizo tacos at Chela’s

The al pastor was next, and in this I dare say we found a mutual favorite. Less sweet than Taco King, with a rich savoriness to the marinade that was perfectly complimented by the slightly tangy salsa verde, these were hands-down winners.

Carne asada was fine, but a bit “blah” after the warm, spicy sausage and richly-marinated pork. The steak was appropriately chewy and had a nice char, but it was by far the weakest of the three offerings.

At $1.85 per taco, Chela’s was ever-so-slightly more expensive, but we considered that $0.35 a relatively small price to pay for flavor profiles that fit our personal palates a bit better.

(Also, at Chela’s, David introduced me to Horchata, a rice-based cold beverage seasoned with cinnamon. WOW. It was milky and a bit sweet and just bursting with that warm, spicy cinnamon flavor. It had a cooling property that complimented the heat of the food extremely well. I loved it!)

Although I’d say we preferred Chela’s just a bit, either of these establishments is a solid choice for an inexpensive, flavorful lunch. Next time you’re on the west side, give one of them a try.

Curry on, my wayward son…

The end of July approaches. I’ll end the month the same way I ended it in 2011: spending a week among countless airplanes and aviation enthusiasts in glamorous (read: “glamorous”) Oshkosh, Wisconsin, attending the annual AirVenture with my coworkers. As far as business travel goes, it’s not a bad gig. And we do eat well on our trips – however, options are somewhat limited and by the end of the week, everyone is a little tired of the sushi/hibachi restaurant and the hotel steakhouse, tasty though they may be. (However, no one gets tired of the bar that plays five decades of music videos, heavy on the nineties. It’s physically impossible to tire of that.)

Luckily, I’m being sent off on a high note this year, food-wise.  We gathered with friends on Friday night – the first time in awhile; it’s been a busy summer all around – for beer and pizza on the deck. Sound mundane, right? Well, this wasn’t just any pizza: this was a most perfect marriage of pizza and Indian food and flavors combining to form the incomparable Curry on Crust.

From what I understand, Curry on Crust is the pet project of the wives of the proprietors of a popular Indian street food restaurant. Located on Ford Road in Canton (that’s right, Ann Arborites – you have to – gasp! – leave the city for this deliciousness), the restaurant does a brisk carry-out business, though there is a small seating area inside the restaurant.

The restaurant divides the pie menu into three basic categories: veggie, paneer (a crumbly fresh cheese used in Indian cuisine, often marinated) and chicken (the only non-vegetarian ingredient on Curry on Crust’s menu). We chose one option from each category: #4 – the Spicy Veggie Treat; #14 – the Palak Paneer Pizza; and #20 – the Chicken Tikka Pizza.

Chicken Tikka Pizza (foreground) and Paneer Palak Pizza

We started with the spicy veggie, featuring the house red sauce. The sauce itself had a spicy, flavorful kick (though not hot enough to offend any spice-phobes) while the addition of ginger and chilies kicked up with the usual veggie pizza combination of onions, mushrooms, tomatoes and olives. A healthy dose of garlic rounded everything out. Hands-down the most flavorful veggie pizza I’ve ever had.

We moved on to the paneer, which pretty much wow-ed the entire group at first bite. The spinach sauce was a brilliant addition, both texture and taste-wise. The sauce offered the rich taste of spinach without any leafy stringiness. It was almost pesto-like in composition. The marinated paneer was almost meat-like. Onions and red peppers added additional crunch and flavor depth.

We were all ready to declare the paneer pizza the winner for the night until we tasted the chicken tikka pizza. Everyone in the group had a hard time deciding which, if either, was the better of the two. The crust was spread with a warm-spicy tikka sauce and sprinkled with chunks of tikka chicken, green peppers and – of course – garlic. The warm flavors of tumeric and corriander permeated the dish, complimented by the mellow flavors of the cooked garlic and the toned-down bitterness of the green pepper. Nothing short of amazing.

We washed down the pizza with Spotted Cow beer from New Glarus Brewing Company out of Wisconsin (this was not an homage to my trip – Matt is from Green Bay). The farmhouse-style ale had a touch of fruitiness and a nice weight without being too heavy. I could see this beer being complimentary to many food options. A great summer deck-drinking choice.

On that note, I think I’m ready to head off to airplane land for a week. I’ll be back and ready for more eating and blogging adventures in August, so stay tuned!

Rock (well, roll) Lobster

I’ve claimed to be done with blogging, or at least with blogging about food and beverages. I was feeling uninspired, there were too many people doing the same thing, my writing was getting repetitive and stale, my phone camera (which I rely on for food photos when out and about) is super-crappy (yes, I’m still toiling along with that BlackBerry, AKA the VCR of cell phones)…my handful of excuses all amounted to pretty much the same thing: boredom. My food blogging days were done.

Done until I tasted the Frita Batidos version of a lobster roll, that is.

I could wax poetic about both lobster rolls and Frita Batidos at length – in fact, I’ve done so here and here. The idea of combining the two was almost unfathomable. It was either going to be the most wonderful or most horrible thing on the planet. I knew it would be – there could not possibly be any middle ground with this one.

To recap for those not inclined to click backlinks and read my old posts: a traditional New England lobster roll is served one of two ways: A) hot, meaning the only condiment is lots and lots of clarified butter or B) cold, meaning the lobster chunks are combined with mayo/other ingredients into a lobster salad. Both versions are served on a hot dog roll. This is not the same thing as a hot dog bun. The hot dog roll is split open on the top rather than on one side. The exposed bread on the sides toasts up splendidly. It’s genius, really, and I’m not entirely sure why we don’t get rid of the stupid bun all together.

As usual, I digress.

I have an aversion to mayonnaise that generally makes a cold lobster roll a less-appealing option. I like the sweet meat dripping in butter and not much else. But here in landlocked (or at least freshwater-locked) land of the Mitten, I was willing to take what I could get.

Hot lobster roll at Captain Scott’s during 2011’s CT Labor Day visit.

I really knew nothing about Frita’s version going in other than the fact that it existed (thank you, Facebook – finally, “liking” a bar or restaurant has actually paid off). I placed my order and then immediately placed an order for a mojito to calm my nerves as I waited. (That proved to be an excellent idea in itself. Frita Batidos makes a mean mojito – just enough sugar to take the edge off the rum and tasting more of fresh lime and mint than anything. I highly recommend it.)

The Frita Mojito

I was approximately halfway through my mojito when my meal arrived. After intense visual scrutinizing, I came to the following conclusions:

• This was not so much a “roll” as a sandwich. It was served on the soft egg brioche bun that Frita’s serves its Fritas on. The interior of the bun was toasted.
• We were looking at a “cold” roll; AKA a lobster salad situation. However, the goop of the salad was an orange-ish color, which I deduced was most likely the sweet chili mayo that comes on many a Frita and as a dipping sauce for the fried plantains. (Have I mentioned Frita Batidos plantains? The delicious, garlic-y, cilantro-y double-fried plantains? These are a MUST try.)
• The lobster salad was topped with Frita’s tropical coleslaw, which I knew from experience to be very crunchy with fruity, fresh flavors.
• The bun was overflowing with chunks of lobster meat – a great sign.

Once the visual inspection was complete, I smelled it (my 201o holiday stint at Zingerman’s Mail Order left me with what some consider the rather peculiar habit of smelling all my food before I eat it). I smelled the chili mayo and a sweet; subtle seafood-y smell (not too strong or fishy – a good indicator that the meat was pretty fresh); and a very slightly fruity smell, most likely from the tropical slaw.

Lobster Frita

It was finally time to take a bite. There would be no going back. Was I setting myself up for an incredible taste experience or the biggest disappointment of my life?* (*That might be a bit of an exaggeration.)

My teeth sank through the soft bun and before hitting the pleasant crunch of the toasted interior followed by the slaw,  immediately contrasted by the slightly chewy meat held together by the not-quite-goopy mayo mixture. I crunched through the bottom layer of bun and pondered the flavor combination as I chewed through the pleasant variety of textures. I noticed that the salad was not quite cold – almost room temperature, possibly warmed from the heat of the bun. It was actually a great temperature and really let the flavors shine through.

And what flavors they were.

Lobster meat has a bit of natural sweetness to it, so adding a little heat from the chili mayo and the fruitier elements of the slaw were actually quite complimentary. It had a kick from the mayo without being “hot” – just flavorful. The bun itself had sort of an egg-y, buttery flavor – extremely subtle and mild, but more discernible than regular processed white bread/buns. There was nothing abrasive in the taste of the sandwich – just very harmonious elements combining for a fresh, slightly sweet mouth explosion.

The lobster Frita – I’m not sure I should call it a lobster roll – is on the messy side – but then again, so are most of the sandwiches at Frita Batidos. They are literally bursting out of the buns. As long as you aren’t particular about things like licking fingers or picking up chunks of food with your hands, this is NOT a problem – just something to note.

I asked our server about the availability of the lobster Frita. She told me it was originally something that the chef (Eve, I’m assuming) wanted to try out for a limited time, but that the reception has been excellent. In fact, it sells  out most nights. Our server indicated that the restaurant might be toying with the idea of keeping it around, but she wasn’t sure.

I hope they do. In the meantime, call, check Facebook, do whatever you need to do to find out if the lobster Frita is being served – and if you find that it, go get it immediately. It’s not a New England lobster roll, but it might just be the most delicious sandwich in Ann Arbor.

Everything’s up-to-date in Traverse City

After gorging on Spicy Bob’s pizza and desserts (thanks again, Rob and CJ) on Friday night, it was probably something of a miracle that we were able to get out of bed at all on Saturday, the second day of Spring 2012 Cabin Weekend. But get up we did, and, fueled by bagels and cream cheese (Thanks, Kristen!) we made our way to Traverse City.

I mentioned in the previous post that this spring’s Cabin Weekend differed a bit from our usual pattern. Not only did we have Roz and Sandi with us (and no Rikster) but our favorite restaurant, The Cooks House, was closed for the weekend, meaning we had to change up our dinner plans. Since we were already changing so many things anyway, we decided to hit some new (and new-to-us) wineries along with a couple of our favorite hot spots.

We started the day at Brengman Brothers, a family-owned winery operated by brothers with a legitimate interest and background in farming and hospitality. Their tasting room had a clean, modern feel, avoiding the hokey “barrel and grapevine” decor found in so many tasting rooms. The space was light and airy and open, a perfect place to taste Brengman’s lineup of whites. The standout here was the Black 65 blend, a refreshing mix of Pinot Gris, Voigner and Sauvignon Blanc (I know, I know – how surprising that I like something with a Sauvignon Blanc component). This wine had a hint of spice to it, along with refreshing citrus flavors. We also enjoyed the Runaway Hen Syrah, made from grapes grown in Washington State (no way can your grow Syrah like that with a growing season like Michigan’s) – this hit a lot of earthy, chocolatey notes at a relatively low price.

Girls at Brengman's - we actually took pictures of US and not just wine and food this time.

Our second stop was at Mawby, another usual suspect on our list of wineries. Mawby does amazing sparklers and visiting their tasting room is always fun. They even dug up some non-alcoholic sparkler for Miss Mietzel while the rest of us tasted the current vintages. Though most Mawby wines are available widely downstate, we always stock up on Sandpiper – a very friendly, accessible, and – at $11 a bottle – affordable sparkler only sold on the premises.

Why the ugly label?

(Note to Mawby: I love you guys. Really, I do. But these new labels are awful! I can handle the groovy design, but why is it paired with the “I’m trying to learn medieval calligraphy” font?)

From Mawby, it was on to another favorite, hidden treasure Willow Vineyard. Tucked away but offering the best views around, Willow is one of the friendliest tasting rooms we visit. They only produce four or five things, but they do them well, and we ALWAYS leave with multiple bottles of their Baci Rose.

At Willow

Post-Willow (and post lunch at a pub in Suttons Bay), we tried out Forty-Five North. Melissa alone had been there before. Good experience, and a very strawberry rose. Sandi, Diane and I managed to share three tastings between us and try more or less the entire menu.

Great pic by Diane

At the Forty-Five North tasting room

From 45 North, we headed to Circa Estate, which was supposed to be open…but disappointingly, was not. Maybe next time?

The last stop on the wine tour was at Black Star Farms, not so much for wine but to stock up on Leelanau Cheese aged Raclette. The Raclette is a Swiss-style cow’s milk cheese that pairs well with just about anything. While we prefer the stronger, more flavorful aged variety, the mild “newer” Raclette will not offend anyone’s palate.

With the wineries all closing up shop for the day, we headed back to downtown Traverse City for our traditional stop at American Spoon. The preserves, salsas, sauces and spreads here are all made in small batches with the best ingredients. American Spoon relies on good farm product to supply the necessary flavor – not adding disgusting amounts of sugar or weird preservatives. They also have the world’s most amazing gelato (sorry, Zingerman’s) and Diane and I could not help but spoil our dinners.

SO MANY CHOICES!!!

I went for a pistachio/hazelnut combo

We wound up our TC trip with dinner at Amical, a French-style bistro downtown. We ordered an assortment of entrees and small plates. I had a braised short rib that was literally falling apart on the plate. It had a wondrous melt-in-your-mouth texture. While we mourned our usual seven course tasting menu at the Cooks House, we were not at all disappointed with our choice.

The BlackBerry is terrible for food pics. I should get an iPhone.

Stay tuned for part three, when we stop at Dingman’s Bar in Kalkaska…where the REAL adventure begins!