Eat Shop

I don't make it to Plymouth often.  Ever, really. But as I celebrated Easter in Eden Prairie, a trip to Eat Shop in Plymouth seemed like less of a hike and I'm happy to confirm that it'll be a great choice for future sojourns to the western burbs. The restaurant is larger than I expected (don't know why I expected it to be small), with lots of tables and bar space for happy hour purposes. The outdoor firepit space would be fun for summer evenings. The menu is extensive, a kind of anybody-can-find-something (gluten-free buns for the burgers available and a couple vegetarian entrees) type place, which is nice for groups.  And I'm impressed by the happy hour menu offerings. A happy hour burger and fries for $6? Not too shabby.

 

 As I gave up meat for Lent, the Eat Plate, complete with house made bologna and summer sausage, just seemed like the only way to kick off our Easter lunch.  We polished off that plate quickly, every component getting its own exclamation at the table. "That swordfish is great!" "I love the bologna." "That cheese is really good." I would have liked a bigger pile of peppers, but that's the story of my life. And our communal love for the swordfish just made it clear to me that we'll need to go back and try the swordfish fritter appetizer sometime. I can only daydream about the possibilities.

I next dug into the duck salad with duck confit, spiced walnuts, pear, and a bacon-duck vinaigrette topped with a poached egg. My only complaint was that the salad seemed a bit overdressed, which overpowered the other components.  My mom's shrimp salad with pimento fried shrimp and blue cheese vinaigrette was more lightly dressed and crisp.  But the duck confit was wonderful and the mixture of duck and poached egg was decadent and delicious.  I'd order this again, but probably ask for the dressing on the side.

We were too full for dessert but as I plan on returning for some swordfish fritters, I'll have to save room for something sweet next time, too.

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Kincaid's

As often as I explore the Cities' eatery offerings, I'm often met with exclamations of horror when people hear that I've failed to experience a local favorite.  Nearly 6 years after moving here, it's nice to know I've still got much to see and taste.

 One such recent shocked exclamation (with a twinge of judgement against my Minneapolis-centric lifestyle) was in regards to my frequenting downtown St. Paul and somehow never eating at Kincaid's. When I worked in St. Paul, Kincaid's was definitely above my payscale. And now, it's still pricier than my preference.  But as this experience was provided courtesy of winning a bet at the recent Swarm game, I was happy to indulge on somebody else's dollar.

We stopped in after the game, probably around 9:30, so we weren't looking for supper but a bit of late night fancy snacking. The bar was peppered with a few other couples and small groups, definitely not crowded but not dead either.  I didn't drink but my date claimed the bar's Manhattan was a solid execution of the classic. 

The trio of fries appetizer was perfectly sized for two or three people, providing classic fries, sweet potato fries, and truffle chips.  The truffle chips were my favorite, because how do you not make truffle anything your favorite?  But I have a documented weakness for sweet potato anything and I polished off that serving with little help from my companion.

Dessert was a tough decision as the sundae with homemade fudge and called my name pretty clearly.  But being a Southerner trapped in the Northern tundra, I'm always curious to give bread pudding a whirl up here.  It's often overly soggy and sickly sweet, which is a disappointment, but I had high hopes for Kincaid's and they did not let me down.  Bread pudding should still retain a bit of it its "bread" character, with that eggy sweetness pulling the flavors together to form a slightly sticky, slightly dense brick of goodness. Traditionally, I'd look for cinnamon and raisins in the mix, but Kincaid's went with a pear variety, which was a nice cold weather twist. The pudding was topped with a house made bourbon sauce that perfectly seeped into every nook and cranny and there was a nice side dish of extra sauce to properly sop up with those last bites.  As desperately as I miss my former New Orleans home, it was lovely to find such a well-executed version of an old favorite.

All those shocked expressions were right, Kincaid's was an experience I needed.  And now I know where to get bread pudding, when the distance from New Orleans feels especially daunting.

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Minnesota Swarm

The last time I saw a lacrosse game I was wearing pearls and heels, courtesy of the Southern tradition embodied by my alma mater in Small Town, Virginia.  I remember very little of the game aside from the fact that all the players were very attractive. 

Fast forward over a decade (sheesh) and I'm at my first professional lacrosse game, cheering on the Minnesota Swarm at the Xcel Center. While the first half proved competitive, with the Swarm and the Philadelphia Wings battling back and forth to ratchet up 5 points respectively, the second half was a blood bath.  The Swarm pounded the Wings for a final 20-11 victory, making my first pro experience even sweeter. 

Honestly, I had no idea this many people in the Cities cared about lacrosse.  The total attendance was over 8,000, and the seats were bouncing with tons of kids, their adults enjoying a beer while the little ones went a bit crazy.  It really seemed like the perfect place to let some youngsters blow off steam, considerably more laidback (and a lot less prone to cursing drunks) than other professional sports clubs in town. The half-time entertainment (a high school lacrosse shoot-out crafted on the Hunger Games), the music, the constant encouragement from the announcers, all were 100% geared towards helping a family have a good time. 

And that isn't to say that the kid-free are overwhelmed by munchkins.  A solid beer selection, skilled athletes, and enthusiastic fans made for an exciting evening, and all the more enjoyable because I was in the company of a Philly supporter. 

A great Friday night activity in St. Paul and one I hope to repeat soon!

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Tanpopo

I wasn't feeling well while debating supper choices.  Naturally, when not in top form, I'm really seeking a form of edible comfort and home-y-ness, but it's hard to find a restaurant that serves white bread cinnamon toast on a My Little Pony TV Tray in my Mamaw's house in North Little Rock circa 1987.  Tough to find that particular milieu.  So instead, I crave soup.

I picked Tanpopo because 1) I'd never been 2) it was in St. Paul, which was necessary for my evening and 3) several googled web searches pulled up its mushroom soba noodle soup as one of the best vegetarian soups in the Cities. Sold. 

We started off with edamame (of course) and then settled into our steaming bowls of simple goodness.  I don't profess to be a "real" foodie.  Those people, in my mind, actually possess an impressive level of knowledge about food, its origins, its import, its traditions.  All I can profess to is an overall curiosity about and enjoyment of food.  So when I say the bowl of soba noodles at Tanpopo tasted like everything I imagine "umami" to embody, as if I fully grasp what umami is supposed to encompass, I kinda feel like a snob.  In all honesty, I'd never really heard about this fifth taste (to complement the other four: bitter, sweet, salty, sour) until recent Food Network shows. The first time I heard it, in relation to an umami burger at some joint visited by Guy Fieri, I thought it was an actual food. Maybe a vegetable of some sort? 

But a quick review of Wikipedia taught me that umami is a distinct flavor, a "pleasant savory" taste (there's even an Umami International Symposium, just fyi).  And that is exactly what that mushroom soba noodle bowl recalled for me. So warm, light and yet densely satisfying, pleasant, savory, meaty despite the absence of meat in my bowl, each component perfectly married to the rest. It was just the perfect comfort for a kind of icky day and a good beginning to a happy evening. You can't really ask any more of a soup, can you? 

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Aster Cafe

An old favorite for several NE Minneapolis dwellers I know, this was my first time eating at Aster Cafe.  It's funny, as often as I've heard people speak affectionately of the place, I've avoided it in large part because of that affection.  I just assumed it would be overcrowded on a Friday night, perhaps take too long to get a table, etc. But we arrived at 6pm on a Friday and had zero trouble, our pick of the place, really.

Our waitress was fantastic (and adorable with excellent fashion sense and a shirt/skirt combo I kind of want to steal), warm and excited to tell us about her personal favorites on the menu. As a Lenten vegetarian I was happy to note I had multiple options to pick from, the butternut flatbread eventually winning out over a soup+sweet potato tot combo. Lucky for me, my companion ordered the parsnip/brie soup of the day, so I was able to taste that creamy goodness without sacrificing my own supper method. 

As noted by the near-empty pint glass, we also enjoyed a couple of beers from the excellent selection. We both made local picks from Fulton (for me, Sweet Child of Vine) and Indeed (for him, Daytripper) breweries. We also tried the cocktails a shot.  I picked the Jalopy, a 2Gingers whiskey with ginger beer concoction that made me very happy.  Just enough ginger to spike the tongue, but not so much that you feel like you're sipping lemony bleach. Ginger requires a delicate balance and this cocktail nails it perfectly. I'm told that the Old-Fashioned, sipped by my friend, was also top-notch.  I'm not a connoisseur of such things so I'll let his impression carry the day. 

My flatbread was delicious.  The butternut flavor wasn't the most distinct as the walnut pesto and goat cheese often took center stage, but I had no complaints about that.  I actually think my supper choice paired exceptionally well with my companion's soup (thus, I ate a good bit of it), all those wintry vegetables enjoying one last hurrah before my spring palate demands less earthiness and more sunshine. 

We stuck around for a few hours, nursing our drinks and our food, listening to a few songs by the Maeflies, who took the stage shortly before 9.  It was a cozy, yummy beginning to a Friday night, and one worth repeating often.  And I'm hopeful that the next time I venture that direction, the wind will have died down and spring will be warming those cobblestones.  Because one of the best aspects of the Aster is its proximity to the Stone Arch Bridge and the beautiful views of Minneapolis from the North side of the river. Summertime cannot come soon enough.  I need to experience the Aster patio, Sweet Child of Vine in hand, view of a sunset-laden river before me.

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Chez Arnaud

I've never been to Chez Arnaud so I cannot give a full review but I had to gush a wee bit.  The pictured pain au chocolat was purchased for me by a dear friend while I ran a half-marathon this morning, and was savored a few hours later. 

I've treasured my share of french pastries in France and Switzerland. And while my kitchen table in Uptown Minneapolis is a far cry from a darling cafe in some dear French town,  the pastry itself was straight out of my best memories of french patisseries. Buttery, light layers, generous but not overwhelming bites of rich chocolate at the center. No heaviness, no grease. Just perfect sweetness surrounded by the best justification for the existence of flour and butter. 

If the promise of this particular pain au chocolat awaited me at every finish line, I imagine I'd be a much faster runner. 

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Get Lucky Half-Marathon

Last year's Get Lucky Half-Marathon was nearly 50 (fifty!) degrees warmer than this year's 20 degree start.  March is a complete crapshoot, I realize.  Maybe it'll be 70.  Maybe it'll be snowing.  But this morning I lusted for the warming tents Team Ortho supplies for some of its other races. I have few complaints about this race, as Team Ortho does a great job running a smooth race worthy of its admittedly steep price tag (roughly $70 for the half). But I wonder if it would be possible for planners to look at the forecast and plan for a few warming tents at the start if the temp is going to be sub-30 (and windy). I know I would have been super appreciative and given the number of crazies in kilts, I'm positive I'm not the only one. 

The only other stressor that I feel like could have been avoided was a bizarre line for the bag check.  Bag check should not take any time.  It appeared that only two people were working the table so perhaps the team just suffered from a few volunteers not showing up, which could certainly happen on such a cold morning. But there was a lot of griping in the bag check line and that could be avoided with more helpers and/or gear bags given at the packet pickup. 

I think the Team Ortho events on the whole would be great races for beginner racers.  They tend to be huge and the crowd provides a great deal of adrenaline and excitement pre-race. There's a decent amount of community support, even with sub-optimal weather.  And the cheeky revelry of running leprechauns and/or halloween costumes (a la Monster Dash in October) allows new runners to relax a bit.  This race was one of the slowest I've had in years, thanks in part to a fall at mile 10 that caused a good deal of limping the last 3 miles. Ice is no joke.  But even a slowpoke like myself didn't bring up the rear.  And even if I did, the running community in the Twin Cities is such that I wouldn't much mind.  

All in all, one of the more expensive half-marathons in town, but usually worth the expense. Great swag, good organization, and salted nut rolls in the post-race goodie bag. Solid. 

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Birdhouse on Hennepin

I admit, I was crushed when Duplex closed and I was skeptical that any replacement restaurant could make me content. I probably had a socially unacceptable attachment to Duplex's ratatouille. But then I heard that the duo behind Heidi's were the masterminds behind Birdhouse on Hennepin, and I knew I had to at least give my skepticism a shot at exorcism. 

I've always loved this space on Hennepin.  Because of the homey bones of the restaurant, literally an old house, sitting down for a meal feels less like a big affair and more like the comfort one craves after a long day.  Where Heidi's is beautiful, romantic, and sexy, Birdhouse is a well-scrubbed wood floor, a checkered napkin, and a table and chair you could find tucked away at any friend's home. 

The food, however, is better than anything your friends (in all likelihood) will ever set before you. I started with the watercress salad because I've never had a watercress salad (tends to be the reason I try many things) and resolved to make watercress a bigger part of my life.  The candied cashews and citrus were perfectly tossed with something light and crisp.  I think an over-dressed salad is one of the saddest things on the planet. Birdhouse gets this. 

As I gave up meat for Lent I didn't have a huge selection, but I don't know that I've ever missed meat less than when I was eating the mushroom barley risotto.  A small pile of fried mushrooms sat on the creamiest, heartiest dish of barley I've ever had.  This was no weak-kneed vegetarian dish (one more hummus wrap and I'll implode). This was complete respect for fresh ingredients, a hearty companion for any veggie-centric patron.  As delicious as the meaty dishes my companions ordered appeared to be (the burger, the ricotta gnocchi with pork), I didn't miss meat one bit.  As I've been drooling all Lent over my friends' burgers and pizzas and chicken wings (while I've been eating aforementioned hummus), this is telling.  A perfect vegetarian dish satiates, and Birdhouse executed this beautifully.

We split the banana bread pudding and my picture turned out less-than-stellar so suffice it to say, Birdhouse knows its bread pudding.  Having moved here from New Orleans, Bread Pudding Ground Zero, I am notoriously snobby about this dessert. Some people kill the dessert with too much sugar, or too much moisture, taking the "pudding" reference way too seriously. Birdhouse, once again, knows what it's doing.  The bread pudding is dense and sticky, perfectly so, and the sweetness of the banana and side of ice cream are lovely touches. 

Having loved the restaurant that shared this space before it, I'm happy that such a delicious addition to the Minneapolis food family has taken its place. 

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Yellow Fever

The Dowling Studio at the Guthrie is an endless source of excitement for me.  Black box theaters have always been my favorite, with their heavy black curtains and uncanny ability to make the fourth wall both obvious and permeable. I was, therefore, excited for another opportunity to see a production in this great space, this time of Yellow Fever, produced by Mu Performing Arts.

Set in the early 1970s in Vancouver, the noir script follows detective Sam Shikaze's investigation of the disappearance of a local celebrity.  There's a spitfire dame, an Irish roughneck, a contemptible villain, and a lovable sidekick to flesh out not only Sam's pursuit of the lost girl but his illumination (for the audience and his fellow characters) of a city's losing battle with racism.

I saw the show on opening night and I always hesitate to criticize in such cases, it can take a few performances to solidly work out the kinks and inhabit a show seamlessly. The trouble with a noir script, however, is that rapid-fire dialogue and well-timed snark are crucial and the speed and confidence just wasn't quite there last night. Noir is a delicate creature, needing a balance between camp and authenticity, and without actors' confidence, the show can feel flat and superficial.  Even as the show progressed, I could sense the actors getting more and more confident, so that by the final scenes, the dialogue was progressing more naturally and with more spunk.

I'd be interested to hear how people react to the show in a week, after a string of performances have built up the actors' confidence further and allowed them to grow more comfortable in their roles. The set and lighting provide great support for moving across the timeline of Sam's pursuit. The dialogue surrounding Sam, offered often by his lawyer comrade or his dear friend and cafe owner, Rosie, provides touches of humor to guide along a darker underlying story. Saucy reporter, Nancy, manages to draw out our heavy-hearted hero in an excellent second act scene. Those relationships provide the pulse for the play and a few more runs will strengthen that heartbeat, making the story itself infinitely more engaging and exciting to watch.

Keep this one in mind for rush seats.  The rush line for Dowling performances are only $15, definitely a steal for a show of this calibre! Yellow Fever plays through March 24th.

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Primebar

Primebar, the (fairly) recent addition to Calhoun Square replacing poor Il Gatto, has a beer and drink list one would expect from a bar that refers to itself as "prime," so that bodes well for my returning for happy hours.  I tried a Lift Bridge Hop Dish (get it?) in large part because the name is adorable.  I don't even like hoppy beers and I still ordered it and enjoyed it far more than I expected.  After Hop Dish I had a tried-and-true Fulton Lonely Blonde, which never lets me down.  The mixed drinks looked interesting, but pricey, $11 for most.  I'll venture in that direction one of those days but rainy days feel like days that require beer or a heavy red, thus my picks. 

As I continue to be meat-free for Lent, my choices on the menu were somewhat limited.  The restaurant does offer a few veggie-friendly options, but my garden vegetable flatbread was pretty unimpressive next to my friend's asian turkey burger, which looked and smelled fantastic. I wish the vegetarian flatbrad option was a bit more inspired, a bit fancier.  There are so many cool things to do with flatbread, slapping on some zucchini and tomato sauce just seems lazy. I doused that flatbread with an unholy amount of Tabasco and cleaned my plate, but I'll definitely need to return when I can test drive the animal tots (house smoked pulled pork, cheese curds, grainy mustard, fried egg, local stout gravy) or duck confit flatbread (cranberry port wine sauce, duck confit, goat cheese, caramelized onion, arugula, cured lemon). 

The happy hour (3-7pm Mon-Fri and all day Sunday) menu of half-priced apps (including those animal tots, people) and select $2 drafts is worth a revisit, definitely. 

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100% Irish for a Day 10 Miler

I'm not a stranger to Twin Cities in Motion events as I've run the Twin Cities Marathon twice and the Red, White, and Boom Half-Marathon.  This was my first Irish 10 miler, however, so I was excited to see how the experts behind the marathon would execute a smaller race with equally variable weather.

The reason I've avoided the 10 miler in the past is because it tends to fall within a week of the Get Lucky Half-Marathon, which I've done the past three years.  I'm signed up for that one again, a week from today.  And as I've been a bit remiss in my training, I thought a 10 miler this weekend would give me the boost (or the reality check) I needed to dig in and get excited about the half.

The 10 Miler is far smaller than the Get Lucky, which is nice in a lot of ways.  The crowd is much more manageable and you can navigate the first mile without dodging people left and right.  I imagine this year was a little lower in attendance just because the weather left a bit to be desired. Race organizers were getting word out in the days leading up to the race that canceling was a possibility due to the threat of an ice storm. March is a crapshoot in Minnesota.  It could be gorgeous or it could snow like mad or we could get sheets of ice so in the grand scheme of things I suppose a rainy 35 isn't too awful. And I really appreciated how communicative organizers were about the cancellation possibility. They assured runners by email, by posting on their website, by tweet, and on facebook, with easily 2 hours to spare before gun time. It's never fun to wonder whether a race will be canceled, but the organizers handled it great.

As a slow runner, rain and sub-40s can be a recipe for nearly 2 hours of misery.  Luckily, the rain held off until the last couple miles and even then it was more mist than solid rain. It was enough to get my pigtails wet, but not enough to have to wring out my jacket sleeves. And having bag check right at the finish, before the throng of people gathering for food and beer, was genius.  I was able to throw on a warm sweatshirt immediately.

I appreciated that the organizers gave two opportunities to pick up packets before race day and offered race day pickup, too.  I was able to check out Marathon Sports, one of the sponsors, which I'd never visited before, and having my race bib in hand gave me a smidge more sleep-in time this morning.

I wouldn't have minded one more water stop.  The 10 miler had water/gatorade at mile 3 and 6.5. Not bad, but one more would have been appreciated.

A 5K was offered this morning, too, and the organizers did well spacing the starting times and designing a course (one loop around Harriet, one around Calhoun, one back around Harriet) that didn't cause a lot of overlap between races.

All in all, a good race, and one I'd repeat.  Cheaper than the Get Lucky, a bit smaller and easier to manage, and a course with which most area runners are very familiar. The free Finnegan's pint is an appreciated bonus, too.  I'll just hope for better weather next year! Sunshine, pretty please!

Twelfth Night

When I normally leave a theater performance, I have an idea of how to write about the production. I'm particularly inspired by a particular actor, perhaps, or by the use of sound or pace or movement. However, when I left Propeller's production of Twelfth Night at the Guthrie, I was at a loss.  The kind of loss that happens after one has been blindsided by wonder.

Propeller is an all-male Shakespeare company based in the U.K.that tours the world offering stagings at once traditional and innovative.  They're traditional in the sense that an all-male troupe was the social convention of Shakespeare's time. I couldn't help but think, at several moments throughout the performance, that this is exactly what Shakespeare had in mind. This gift and brilliance is why the play was written. But there is nothing stuffy or staid about this staging, nothing to recall the dusty, awkward performances that so often cause theater-goers to ready their yawning muscles as they settle into Shakespeare. Propeller enlivens the Bard in an authentic, deeply-felt way that translates into a performance equal parts hilarious and poignant.

The use of song and movement is perfect, with actors singing, dancing, and inching and crawling across the stage in tune with the tone of each scene.  There are bawdy, raucous sounds to accompany drunkenness and revelry, and haunting melodies and wave-like movements to match the ache of lovers' longing. The play of light, also, hones the audience's focus on the key individuals in each scene, while much of the company remains on stage. Their presence, often masked and in the shadows, seems to melt into the scenery, providing moans, songs, instrumental bells and whistles, as a sort of moving set piece. They're a sort of Chorus element, providing a pulse for the body of the play.

I cannot highlight one actor as particularly soaring.  The play feels like one unified, electrifying machine, and not an assemblage of moving parts. The expert pace, the swiftness of every dialogue, the coy winks of teasing "ladies" and their lovers, the music of both joy and melancholy, all are necessary and all are provided with seemingly effortless style.

Propeller is staging Twelfth Night in repertory with Taming of the Shrew. I cannot encourage attendance enough!

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Sister's Easter Catechism

I make it to New Century Theater, at 6th and Hennepin, infrequently, so I was excited to tuck into this small local space for a show on Friday. Sister's Easter Catechism was my first experience with the Late Night Catechism series and I had zero information to provide my friend who came along ("There's a nun. Pretty sure it's a comedy.").  I appreciate the company of brave souls willing to dive into such things.

The show's premise is that Sister is giving her motley crew of a catechism class (aka The Audience) a lesson on the history and importance of Lent and Easter.  There are jokes about the Protestants, especially the Lutherans, and public schools, but the bulk of the humor involves pointing a laughing finger at Catholicism and the terror of young children in the company of a strict nun.  As a result, the Catholics in the audience were near tears in their laughter, perhaps out of joy, perhaps out of flashbacks to their own strict Sister. The non-Catholics, including myself, were delighted, as well, but I'd hazard a guess that the heartiest of guffaws came from Catholic bellies.

The structure of the show is simple, a lesson the first half, and questions/answers and the final test in the second half.  This requires a good deal of audience participation, both volunteer and not-so-volunteered, as Sister points out those in the audience not fit for her catechism class (deep V-necks, ladies?!).  The first half of the show uses this structure expertly, flowing quickly between stories and jokes, supplying plenty of smiles.  The second half does rely a bit more on the audience participation and that is always a crapshoot. Questions to the Sister took a political turn in our show, but the Sister did a great job keeping things light and friendly. There were those in our audience who liked hogging the spotlight, telling their own jokes, etc., which I fault in part on the cheap alcohol available throughout the show. That can be frustrating for other audience-members but it's also a situation that would likely be different show to show. Actress Kimberly Richards does a deft job at reigning in the more obnoxious audience members, but having a healthy dose of patience, light-heartedness, and understanding about the show's structure is recommended.  

The show was plenty full of laughs and the Sister makes sure to keep it pretty safe for young ears.  There were a handful of young teens in the audience and they participated as fervently as the adult audience, so this could be a fun family activity with pre-and young teens.  The show runs through March 31st.  Chew gum at your own risk. 

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Cosmos Restaurant

I'd been to Cosmos before for drinks but never given the food a whirl.  Restaurant Week proved to be the perfect time to get a 3-course taste of the restaurant's calibre without breaking the bank. 

Restaurant Week was a bit tough for me this year as I gave up fish and meat for Lent. Yikes! Many of the restaurants I wanted to try didn't offer meat-less (and that includes fish-less) entrees but I'm happy to have widened my horizons a bit because that led us to Cosmos for a wonderful supper.

We started with the beet salad served with panna cotta and a wonderful orange vinaigrette.  I'm a sucker for beets and these were perfectly done and a wonderful start to the meal. The salad was followed by a palate cleanser of grape juice with some sort of gelatinous (and I use that word affectionately) blob that exploded in your mouth upon the slightest tap of the teeth.  It was delicious and truly refreshing. I wish I'd gotten a picture because it really was very nifty-looking.  I love a good globular edible thing. 

My entree was the mushroom fettucine with peas and a light carbonara, tossed with the requisite parmesan. Despite giving up meat/fish, I really haven't been eating as much pasta as I expected, so this was a nice treat. The noodles were perfectly cooked, with a firmness that mirrored the texture of the mushrooms and provided a great vehicle of transportation for getting parmesan into my mouth. My date for the night ordered the pork loin and I will admit to eating my share of the leek spoon bread that accompanied his dish.  I make spoon bread on occasion, though my recipe has a stronger corn flavor, and I made a mental note to add leeks next time. Genius!

We picked different desserts (which, in my book, is the only way to go when ordering desserts so that you can taste more than one sweet), him opting for the chocolate and me for the spice cake.  The spice cake was straight out of any holiday party, with cinnamon and caramel flavors spinning throughout the light cake.  The chocolate mousse was dense and rich, more dense, in fact, than I usually would attribute to a mousse.  But there were no complaints, these were delightful ways to finish off a lovely meal.

As much as I love Bradstreet Crafthouse a couple of floors below, I'm hoping to return to Cosmos again soon. Drinks and small plates at Bradstreet, followed by something involving spoon bread upstairs...

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