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.

Follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite

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.

Follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite

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!

Follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite

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? 

Follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite

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.

Follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite

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. 

Follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite

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. 

Follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite