The First Annual “Chicago Chefs’ Morel and Ramp Romp” recently offered some hardworking Chicago chefs the opportunity to kick back, relax, and mingle with the culinary-minded. This locavore-centric retreat was thoughtfully coordinated by Adam Seger of Hum Spirits, wine distributor Beverly Malen, Drew and Lauron Turnipseed of Two Turnips catering and consulting, Rachel Collins of Collins Caviar, and Scott and Kristen Sullivan of Greenbush Brewing Company. Participating chefs (including Spiaggia’s Executive Chef Sarah Grueneberg and Prosecco’s Executive Chef Mark Sparacino) spent the day in Baroda, Michigan foraging for morel mushrooms and picking fresh ramps, touring local wineries and eating roasted pig prepared by Rob Leavitt of Chicago’s Mado Restaurant. Winemaker Mike de Schaaf poured tastings from Hickory Creek, one of the premier wineries found along Lake Michigan’s eastern shore. The day’s events held a mood of earthy spontaneity and peacefulness, as well as revealing Harbor Country’s culinary aspirations and resources, which perhaps deserve more attention than granted previously.

Adam Seger muddling ingredients for a cocktail made with Hum Spirits.

Rachel Collins serving Michigan caviar on fresh blinis.

Chicago chefs embark on a morel and ramp hunt.

Morel mushrooms-what a find!

Picking local rapini from Michigan fields.

Chicag0 wine distributor Beverly Malen munches on just-picked rapini.

Roasted pig prepared by Adam Leavitt of Mado Restaurant.

Montreal bagels, like New York bagels, were brought to the city by Jewish immigrants and remain a staple today. The Montreal bagel is typically hand-made and wood-fired,  and is smaller, sweeter, and denser than its New York sibling. Bagel, Etc. was a funky and friendly place, and our lox and bagels served with fried potatoes hit the spot for brunch.

Bagel Etc., Montreal.

Lox and Bagel, Bagel Etc., Montreal.

Two of Montreal’s oldest bagel institutions are St. Viateur Bagel and Fairm0unt Bagel. Both are a bit touristy, with lines stretching out of the small storefronts and cameras flashing towards the wood-burning ovens and annoyed bagel-makers. Fairmount Bagel has been operating since 1949 and offers more bagel options than St. Viateur, which only serves the original sesame or poppy seed variety. A chocolate chip bagel from Fairmount was a nice breakfast paired with a Cafe au Lait from a neighboring cafe. Despite the kitsch factor, a trip to St. Viateur or Fairmount Bagel is worth a trip!

Fairmount Bagel, Montreal.

Chocolate Chip Bagel and Cafe au Lait, Montreal.

Of course, Montreal offers more than just bagels. There are fantastic microbreweries like Dieu de Ciel, which serves a unique variety of beer (hibiscus brew!). Do your best to masquerade as a nonchalant, hipster local while taking in the mounted ostrich heads and sipping absinthe at Bily Kun. Take a break from heavy gastropub fare by exploring restaurants in Chinatown or some of Montreal’s excellent Thai restaurants.

We had our first taste of Québécois cuisine at Au Pied de Cochon, a restaurant that’s certainly not for dieters or finicky eaters. Housed in a narrow, bright space, Au Pied is rustic (serving blood sausage, head cheese, picked tongue, and the ever-so-romantic Pig’s Head for Two) but trendy. Both our waiter and the menu had a “figure it out on your own” vibe; no explanations are provided on the menu. We avoided the cryptic “Duck in a Can” and “Happy Pork Chop” and went straight for the blissful section of the menu devoted entirely to Foie Gras. My ongoing soliloquy to goose liver gained a few verses:

Oh, fried foie gras cubes, thou art quite freaky/

Your liquid center spilled down my sister’s cheeky.

Foie gras tart, buttery and flaky/

I’ll reincarnate as a goose, maybe.

Our dinner at L’Express, on the chic Rue St. Denis, was the quintessential French bistro experience. We ate our meal at the bar and translated the handwritten menu. Spicy cornichons and grainy mustard were served with our hot french baguette, and the wine list highlighted reasonably priced, French wines. Mais oui, we ordered the marrow bone appetizer: sinfully delicious hunks of bone marrow with crunchy toasts and coarse sea salt. Two dainty women who sat next to us at the bar stared with an interesting combination of horror and lust as my sister and I navigated the hot bones to reveal their treasure of gelatinous, meaty goodness.  A gorgeous salad of greens and duck confit and a simple spaghetti with mushrooms finished our spectacular meal.

L’Express, Montreal.

Marrow Bone Appetizer, L’Express.

Salad with Duck Confit, L’Express, Montreal.

Spaghetti with Mushrooms, L’Express, Montreal.

Montreal has an easygoing, young and vibrant vibe.  Given the weak dollar, a visit to Montreal is not the bargain it used to be…but with only a two hour flight from Chicago, it’s a lot closer than Paris!

That’s right, I said it. I feel that sometimes, it’s totally acceptable to walk out of a restaurant BEFORE you’ve ordered anything, based solely on first impression. Judgment and discretion should be used, of course. I wouldn’t walk out of Alinea or Tru, but I also know that they are two of the top restaurants in Chicago.  If you embark upon a new restaurant, willing to spend your hard-earned money on typically overpriced food, why sit and suffer if you know you won’t enjoy the experience?

The other night, Aaron and I decided to try Fonda del Mar, which recently relocated from Logan Square to Lincoln Square. I’d been meaning to try this Mexican Seafood spot for a while, and was excited to cross it off my list. From the exterior, FDM didn’t look that inviting. The space is a 70′s style, squat brick building with cubed, block glass windows (the kind normally found in bathrooms!). We walked in, and I shuddered. How can a place look like an open cafeteria, and yet make me feel so claustrophobic at the same time? We sat at our table and I took in the view of the rickety tables and glum patrons sitting under fluorescent lights. I looked at my husband, and we got the hell outta there.

Julie and Julia, Sony Pictures.

The blah movie notwithstanding, I was rooting for Julie Powell, a fellow blogger, a person just like me who hated her day job and was interested in food and writing. A person just like me whose blog catapulted her out of her mundane life. I wasn’t bothered by her unapologetic narcissism or her chatty blog style, even when Julia Child refused to endorse the ‘stunt’ project and said “I don’t think she’s [Powell] a serious cook.” That said, I found her new book, Cleaving, one of the most unpleasant reads of my life.

Here’s the gist of the book: just as Powell finished writing Julie and Julia, she started having an affair with an old college boyfriend, “D”. Her husband finds out about the affair, but Powell decides that she doesn’t want to stop diddling D and nevertheless wants to remain married. Powell and her husband each dole out their  share of misery and abuse. Everything turns terrible, and Powell flees to an upstate New York butchery to work out her aggression by chopping up animals.

The butchery is meant to be therapeutic, of course, and  we’re steered to believe the memoir is mostly about Powell’s apprenticeship with master butchers. But really, the book turns out to be about how incredibly amazing her affair was, how incredibly devious Powell is, and how marvelously flawed she reveals herself to be. Through all the explicit descriptions of how mind-blowing the sex is with D, Powell’s regret or shame is hard to locate. The reader starts to think: “That poor, idiot husband.”

Basically, my main issue with this memoir boils down to this: why would any one care? It’s easy to trick your reader after writing a feel-good, gooey Julia Child book into basically reading your personal journal. But where is the contrition? What’s the point? It’s basically tell, tell, tell. Tell  about how you like being slapped around, the dirty texting, your propensity as a stalker, your desperation after D breaks up with you, your resentment of the fact that most people would feel guilty in your situation.

Don’t get me wrong, I believe it’s more than acceptable to write about your dishonest, regrettable past in memoir form. But to come out on top, some sort of reflection about past mistakes is appreciated. Powell takes the opposite approach and just brags her way through one crappy action after another. She lacks an internal perspective; she not only offers her husband no respect, but her readers. In one part of the book, Powell describes how a fan approaches her on the street, gushes about loving her work,  and mistakes “D” for her husband. Powell goes along with the ruse.

I almost laugh in dizzy relief, right in the woman’s face. I must look completely dazed, with hectic eyes and a plastered-on smile. D’s no wild-eyed rebel, doesn’t race hot rods or start fistfights in bars or snort lines off strippers’ asses … (much … that I know of). But he has a way of, with just a sly smile, a tiny lie, making me feel gleefully wild. I am trembling; I can’t wait to get him home.

Oh, gag. What comes through in the book is this moment really was hilarious to Powell, and this sort of devious behavior really made D irresistible. The main theme of the book rang clear: she knew she should feel bad, but she didn’t.

In a response to the overwhelming criticism received for Cleaving, Powell defends herself (albeit in a self-indulgent, victim-y way) to Slate Magazine, saying that if you don’t like this book,  it says more about you than it does about the book.  I’m sure that escaping the dippy foodie book genre was liberating for Powell, as she was trying to be daring as a writer. I get the feeling, though, that she got more out of her liberation than her readers will.

Tagged: Cleaving, Julia Child, Julie and Julia, Julie Powell, Mastering the Art of French Cooking ]]> http://noolives.com/2010/03/01/julia-was-right/feed/ 1 No Olives julie_and_julia cleaving http://noolives.com/2010/02/23/kentucky-fried-olives-3/ http://noolives.com/2010/02/23/kentucky-fried-olives-3/#comments Tue, 23 Feb 2010 18:05:49 +0000 No Olives http://noolives.com/?p=727 Continue reading →]]> The South is really not that bad. Seriously. It’s the home of bourbon,  horses, grits, and strange expressions. I planned a weekend getaway for my husband’s birthday to the Kentucky bourbon trail. While brown alcohol is not exactly my thing, I knew he’d enjoy it and I’d enjoy the escape from Chicago’s dreary and never ending winter.

Horse Country, Versailles, KY

We began our adventure in Louisville, a surprisingly beautiful and sophisticated city.  The 21c Museum Hotel doubles as a contemporary art museum, and its playful, eclectic design carries through the hotel and restaurant. Red penguins are the main motif of the space, and interactive art dots hallways and corners.

21c Museum Hotel, Louisville, KY

Housed inside the hotel, the restaurant Proof on Main has been featured in Bon Appetit, Food and Wine Magazine, and was named as one of “Best New Restaurants 2006″ by Esquire.  Proof on Main was developed by Louisville philanthropists and art collectors, and  focuses on Italian cuisine laced with Southern influences. A nightly special of rabbit stew served over Parmesan polenta was not as fabulous as our server promised and raved; the entire dish tasted like bitter parsley and the shredded rabbit was simply not seasoned correctly. An appetizer of Ndjua toast with melted lardo, fleur de sel and fried oregano was sinfully fattening and wonderful. Proof’s wine list, named by Food and Wine Magazine in 2006 “as one of America’s 50 most amazing wine experiences” and most recently given the Wine Spectator 2007 and 2008 “Award of Excellence,” was both accessible and eclectic.

Proof on Main, Louisville,  KY

One of the best things about our dinner at Proof on Main was the delicious bread served both table side and incorporated into our appetizers. Once we were told the bread came from Blue Dog Bakery, we added a visit to the next day’s agenda. Louisville restaurant critic Robin Garr writes that “one of the best culinary happenings in Louisville in the last decade was the arrival of Blue Dog bread and its expert baker, Bob Hancock.”

Blue Dog Bakery, Louisville, KY

Blue Dog focuses on its bakery, but also runs a small cafe that’s open for breakfast and lunch. The cafe’s simple decor, open spaces and large windows creates an inviting yet noisy space. The breakfast menu was a bit limited but our choices were delicious. We drank our lattes and watched the Southern kids flop around the restaurant, and dreamed about simpler lives outside of the city.

Egg Sandwich, Blue Dog Bakery, Louisville, KY

Poached Eggs with Prosciutto, Blue Dog Bakery, Louisville, KY

I’ve been scouring the West Loop of Chicago lately, trying to find the perfect place to take my betrothed for his birthday dinner. It’s a special occasion, so I’d like something a little more shi-shi than we’d normally frequent. I’ve never been to Blackbird, or Otom, or Sepia; while their cuisine is enticing, one obstacle remains. Why, in the name of all that is holy, would I want to sit at a table 6 inches away from strangers when I’m probably going to drop over $200 on a meal? A few years ago, I could easily avoid a handful of restaurants in Chicago that force its patrons to engage in this experience. These days, dozens* of the city’s restaurants are taking away something that Americans typically value when eating out: privacy.

Communal Dining Nightmare.

I know, I know…communal seating is “rustic!” It’s economically efficient for restaurants; it creates a bonding experience, it’s European! I don’t need to sit next to strangers in order to enjoy a rustic meal; a multitude of the new restaurants in Chicago are serving trendy “rustic” items like crispy veal sweetbreads, tripe and blood sausage, beer braised bacon, and pickle rolls with corned beef and horseradish mustard. (On a side note, what is with this trend? Gross.) If a restaurant needs to pack people in like sardines in order to break even, perhaps they should consider other ways to pinch pennies.

I’ve only once experienced the camaraderie that could potentially develop during a shared meal. During my final year of college, I was lucky enough to live in Europe and traveled quite often. I visited Paris one weekend with friends and we found ourselves at Nos Ancetre Les Gaulois, a lovely restaurant in the heart of the Ile-Saint-Louis.

Nos Ancetre Les Gaulois, Paris.

Across Europe, in bistros and beer halls, tavernas, trattorias and tapas bars, people are accustomed to eating at large shared tables. Nos Ancetre was no exception: fueled by the unlimited jugs of red table wine, a language barrier and my reckless youth, I could ignore the couple chomping on their meat besides me. Maybe the next time I visit Europe I’ll be as carefree as my former 22 year old self. But for now, as my almost 30 year old self, I don’t want to experience the first date awkwardness of the couple next to me. I don’t want to be annoyed by the drunk woman talking about how Twilight changed her life. I don’t want to overhear the right-wing couple lamenting about the election. I just want to eat my brains, blood sausage, and bacon in peace.

*Restaurants in Chicago with communal seating (either entirely or in part) include: Avec, DuChamp, Urban Belly, The Publican, Crisp, The Bristol, Eno, Great Lake, Sepia, Smoque BBQ, Townhouse Restaurant & Wine Bar, People Lounge, Twist a Tapas Cafe, Blackbird, Otom, Feed, Osteria Via Stato, Sweet Maple Cafe, Japonais Restaurant, Pasta Palazzo, Veerasway, Lou Mitchell’s Restaurant. Comment if you know of others!

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-Abbey

Dragonfly Toast, Saugatuck, MI.

Luckily, there’s nothing on the list that I wouldn’t consider trying. I think its pretty interesting/funny that I’ve never actually had a Big Mac meal. That’s probably a good thing.

Instructions:
1. Copy this list into your blog or journal, including these instructions.
2. Bold all the items you’ve eaten.
3. Cross out any items that you would never consider eating.

1. Venison
2. Nettle tea
3. Huevos rancheros
4. Steak tartare
5. Crocodile
6. Black pudding
7. Cheese fondue
8. Carp
9. Borscht
10. Baba ghanoush
11. Calamari
12. Pho
13. PB&J sandwich
14. Aloo gobi
15. Hot dog from a street cart
16. Epoisses
17. Black truffle
18. Fruit wine made from something other than grapes
19. Steamed pork buns
20. Pistachio ice cream
21. Heirloom tomatoes
22. Fresh wild berries
23. Foie gras
24. Rice and beans
25. Brawn, or head cheese
26. Raw Scotch Bonnet pepper
27. Dulce de leche
28. Oysters
29. Baklava
30. Bagna cauda
31. Wasabi peas
32. Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl
33. Salted lassi
34. Sauerkraut
35. Root beer float
36. Cognac with a fat cigar
37. Clotted cream tea
38. Vodka jelly/Jell-O
39. Gumbo
40. Oxtail
41. Curried goat
42. Whole insects
43. Phaal
44. Goat’s milk
45. Malt whisky from a bottle worth £60/$120 or more
46. Fugu
47. Chicken tikka masala
48. Eel
49. Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut
50. Sea urchin
51. Prickly pear
52. Umeboshi
53. Abalone
54. Paneer
55. McDonald’s Big Mac Meal
56. Spaetzle
57. Dirty gin martini
58. Beer above 8% ABV
59. Poutine
60. Carob chips
61. S’mores
62. Sweetbreads
63. Kaolin
64. Currywurst
65. Durian
66. Frogs’ legs
67. Beignets, churros, elephant ears or funnel cake
68. Haggis
69. Fried plantain
70. Chitterlings, or andouillette
71. Gazpacho
72. Caviar and blini
73. Louche absinthe
74. Gjetost, or brunost
75. Roadkill
76. Baijiu
77. Hostess Fruit Pie
78. Snail
79. Lapsang souchong
80. Bellini
81. Tom yum
82. Eggs Benedict
83. Pocky
84. Tasting menu at a three-Michelin-star restaurant.
85. Kobe beef
86. Hare
87. Goulash
88. Flowers
89. Horse
90. Criollo chocolate
91. Spam
92. Soft shell crab
93. Rose harissa
94. Catfish
95. Mole poblano
96. Bagel and lox
97. Lobster Thermidor
98. Polenta
99. Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee
100. Snake

The strange caterpillar on our garage door. (“Please don’t eat meeeeeeee!!”)

Lake Geneva, Wisconsin.

Always true to form, after schlepping around the streets and shops for an hour or so, we sought out libations. We found our way to Pop More Corks, a wine shop with an interesting philosophy behind it:

If you walk into Pop More Corks and browse the shelves you won’t see prices marked on the bottles. By design, David [Biegemann, owner] doesn’t want anyone to buy a bottle of wine based solely on price without having an exchange of thoughts and ideas about the wine’s best uses, its history, and something about the producer.

Luckily, we walked in just in time for a wine tasting. The store was packed (aah, how people love free wine!) but that didn’t prevent owner David Biegemann from making sure that everyone had a glass and a piece of information about the wine they were tasting. When we asked for a recommendation of a wine that we couldn’t find anywhere in Chicago, David quickly suggested a special Barolo that normally would sell for double the amount that he was charging.

Pop More Corks, Lake Geneva, Wisconsin.

Tempura House, Lake Geneva, Wisconsin.

Maki, Tempura House, Lake Geneva.

For dinner, we walked down Center Street to Tempura House, Lake Geneva’s answer to Japanese cuisine. Shrimp and vegetable tempura were excellent, and the steak and chicken hibachi was not bad. My sister and her boyfriend ordered maki rolls, which looked divine. We sat on Tempura House’s patio and enjoyed the last few spurts of warm summer air and then went off to perform in a movie theater in Lake Geneva’s square.

More Maki, Tempura House, Lake Geneva.

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“Listen,” by Nancy Gillespie.

Luckily, Springfield still has a few things going for it, most notably its proximity to farm fresh produce. When I was a child, my family had the luxury of simply driving down the street to visit the Stevens’ farm for fresh tomatoes, corn, peas, and whatever else was in season. I’ll never forget watching with amazement and horror as Mrs. Stevens (the farmer’s wife) munched on a raw onion while saying “I eat ‘em like apples, they’re so sweet!” While not as authentic as the Stevens’ farm, Country Market does sell local, seasonal produce and in my opinion, one of the best lines of Illinois preserved fruits and vegetables: Kathy’s Kitchen. Kathy’s Chili Sauce, Hot Chow Chow, and Sweet Pepper Jelly are my favorites.

Country Market, Springfield, Illinois.

Country Market Produce, Springfield, Illinois.

Luckily, my family was celebrating my sister’s birthday the same weekend as my trip to Springfield, so I had an excuse to stock up. My haul included a “candy onion” (no, I didn’t eat it like an apple), new potatoes, Beardstown, Illinois sweet corn, red and yellow tomatoes, and of course, Kathy’s Kitchen items. We celebrated my lovely sister in true Springfield style with a Sunday “farm dinner.” On the menu: Hamburgers, roasted new potatoes, Farmstand tomato salad and sweet corn. That old adage “You can’t go home again” is certainly true-but in my case, I can try by recreating the flavors of my past.

Local Tomatoes, Country Market, Springfield, Illinois.

Beardstown Sweet Corn.

Farm Stand Tomato Salad (serves 6)

Ingredients:

3 Large, Ripe, Red Tomatoes, cubed
2 Large, Ripe, Yellow Tomatoes, cubed
5-6 Large Basil Leaves (to your taste), finely chopped
1 Cucumber, cubed
1 Sweet Onion, Diced
2 tablespoons Balsamic Vinegar
Salt and Pepper to Taste

Directions:

Combine ingredients and refrigerate for 1-2 hours before eating to allow flavors to fully combine. Superb as a side dish, tossed with pasta, or over cottage cheese or baked potatoes.

Farmstand Tomato Salad.

Roasted New Potatoes (Serves 6)

Ingredients:

1/2 Sweet Onion, Diced
3-4 Garlic Cloves (to your taste), finely chopped
2 tablespoons Extra Virgin Olive Oil
1/2 tablespoon Salt
1/2 tablespooon Pepper
1/2 tablespoon Paprika
1/2 tablespoon Cajun Seasoning
1/2 teaspoon Cayenne Pepper

Directions:

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Combine onions, garlic, and potatoes in large baking dish and add spices and olive oil. Toss potatoes, onions and garlic to make sure everything is evenly coated with spice. Cook for 30-35 minutes and then place under low broiler for about 5 minutes to crisp potatoes.

Roasted New Potatoes.

Self Portrait.

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