Boss' Pizza and Chicken

 Yes, the possessive form of "boss" should be "boss's," this is correct.

Now that we're past the grammatical issue, Boss' Pizza & Chicken pizza is great! Mere blocks from my house, I've driven by this kinda dive-looking corner pizza place a million times but only recently made an order. I didn't know until it arrived that it was a thin crust style (thicker crusts and gluten free crusts available), and that was a pleasant surprise. Growing up in St. Louis, I'm a sucker for that style of crust, thin and crispy without being too cracker-ish. This was a really solid showing, definitely the best version of that crust I've had in the Cities. The veggie pizza is pictured and my church group also shared a pepperoni and sausage.  I ordered over the phone and despite ordering at prime supper time, the pizzas arrived in under half an hour.  I realize part of the speed could be my proximity, but I was impressed nonetheless.

Their menu includes a host of chicken options, too, and I've heard solid accolades from neighborhood folks for the wings.   I'm also intrigued by their broasted chicken, which I bet would win raves as a last minute pick-up for dinner. Whip up a couple easy sides, plop some broasted chicken on the table, that would surely make you a hero. You can also order any pizza topping/variation as a calzone. But for now I'm just happy to know that the corner spot minutes from me makes a great thin crust pie!

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Zen Box Izakaya

I'm a frequent Guthrie-goer, and so have enjoyed many a meal at Sea Change, Kindee Thai, and Spoonriver. And with this agonizingly long winter, I've avoided wandering the extra couple blocks to Zen Box Izakaya.  After last night's meal, I realize my weakling Southern aversion to a cold jaunt robbed me of many tantalizing opportunities at this gem.  I'm committed to making up for lost time!

These plates are made for sharing, a comment voiced on the menu itself as well as by the servers, and while I could have easily hoarded a couple of these plates to myself, I have to agree.  The best method for enjoying the many options is to embrace the tapas-style serving and share, share, share. This would be a great place to come if you have different dietary needs in your party, too. Lots of veggie-friendly options for those that don't want to eat the animals. 

We started off with a beer flight of three selections, Surly Bender, Hitachino, and Sapporo. Heavens, how have I never had Hitachino? Note to self for future excursions.  The mixed drink list was enticing, too, with options incorporating lychee fruit and other yummy things.  Someone needs to report back on those.  Or, maybe I need to report back. 

We shared four dishes (aside from a scoop of Sebastien Joe's Surly Bender to finish things off): sashimi duo of salmon and tuna, takoyaki, spareribs, and shumai tempura (not pictured).  The sashimi duo ($14) was just perfect, and provided a larger portion than I expected. I would happily have that and a bowl of soup for lunch sometime, preferably sitting in the sunshine-ready tables outside. 

My favorite of the evening, takoyaki ($6), is a ball of battered octopus with Japanese mayo, Tonkatsu sauce, aonori (blue seaweed), and bonito flakes (thin dried flakes of smoked bonito fish). It sounds like an awful lot to be going on in one little ball, but man, it's perfect. Steaming hot when you take that first bite, the octopus flavor and mayo are a perfect combination of salt and sweet. 

The shumai tempura ($6.5), shrimp dumplings, were an excellent next step in the meal. And the fact that I enjoyed them speaks volumes considering I'm really not a tempura fan usually. Some tempura batter is just too heavy, masking whatever is underneath.  But this had a very thin coating of tempura and you never lost that fresh shrimp texture and flavor. The house-made ponzu sauce should be bottled and sold. 

We finished off with the heaviest plate of the meal, the miso pork spareribs ($6), braised in a white miso with daikon.  By the time we received this dish I was pretty full, so my friend had the luck of eating two ribs to my one, lucky duck. These were deliciously tender but with just enough oomph left in them to keep them attached to the rib (I don't like that "falling off the bone" business).  The white miso was light and soft, and my friend, who normally dislikes miso, raved. 

The service, too, matched the expert dishes.  We let the server know we were headed to a show and she and the rest of the waitstaff, made sure we had plenty of time for each dish with a comfortable window to walk the 2 blocks to the Guthrie. And we even figured out (for next time) that the parking across from Zen Box is significantly cheaper than the ramps across from the theater. All the more reason to make this your next stop before taking in a show!

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Pat's Tap

I'm forever finding places I'm embarrassed to have never found before. I've been hearing of Pat's Tap for ages and you'd think the fact that the restaurant name is a palindrome would be enough to lure me in sooner. Sucker for word tricks over here. 

Better late than never, and better that my first experience at Pat's be accompanied by a basket of fried pickles.  Lightly battered and served, of course, with ranch dressing, they were the perfect way to kick start a meal after a truly awful workday. I don't think it's legal to eat fried pickles without drinking beer, so I was happy to note a tap list that made the choice a difficult one but and was happy to toast with a pint of Lift Bridge Farm Girl

I made a meal of the appetizer mussels in a white wine broth (Meatless Monday and all). Our waitress was genuinely confused by my not eating meat (okay, I sometimes eat seafood/fish) just one day a week, hence my linking to the wikipedia explanation. The mussels were delicious, the broth perfectly light and savory, I only wished for a bit more bread to soak up that broth-y goodness once I'd killed every last one of those shelled creatures. 

We split a slice of carrot cake to finish off the meal and "split" is really inaccurate.  I think we ate a third of the slice together because it was, literally (and I understand the definition of that word), the size of my face. I took the remainder of the slice home and three days and several small slices later I still have at least two healthy portions left. You could easily split this monster between four people and have some to spare.  And they're not trying to make up for mediocre flavor with sheer size.  This is a fantastic carrot cake, and I am a true connoisseur of this particular dessert as I'm very proud of my own family recipe. Dense but still moist, with a cream cheese frosting that doesn't overpower the carrot cakeyness, you will treasure those leftovers. 

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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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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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Ward 6

Nestled as I am in my dear little Whittier neighborhood (kinda Uptown, kinda downtown, kinda Eat Street, kinda LynLake), I don't venture to our sister city often. Even when I worked in St. Paul, I didn't take advantage of the many neighborhood restaurants and pubs that could have, perhaps, lessened the annoyance of a Metro Transit between Uptown and downtown St. Paul each day. 

Now that I work in a western 'burb, my tendency to head to St. Paul has decreased dramatically, aside from monthly trips to the Ordway,and I fully recognize that I'm missing out on some nifty eats and activities. But tonight I took a step towards remedying that problem (which is really just a result of laziness) by checking out Ward 6, a great neighborhood spot at Phalen and Payne. 

I went to the restaurant at the recommendation of a dear friend and former colleague from my St. Paul days who had peeked in before and found the place to be packed. She reads this blog and thought it seemed like a worthy spot for blogger exploration and I am always game for her company and always game for exploring new spots. So it was a win-win for me. Even at just past 5 on a Friday, an hour I tend to associate with the elderly, there was a 20+ minute wait for a table for 2.5 (we had a young one in tow).  It's great to see a new spot brimming with business and to see such a healthy mix of ages enjoying the atmosphere.  There were several little ones in attendance for such a small restaurant, a fact easily explained by a laid back vibe and some well thought out kiddie food options.  I was especially impressed by "I'll have what she's having," which is a smaller portion of whatever Mama (or Dada) is having for the pipsqueak. My friend's little one is a bit too small for such things at this point, but I can easily see why this would be a comfortable place for families. Great beer list for the parents (or the friends of parents in my case) and comfy enough to not worry about the occasional throwing of a shoe, dropping of a menu, or kid squeal-of-no-apparent-purpose.

We shared a large order of fries which came with a choice of two sauces. We didn't finish the fries so for two people I think I'd recommend a small serving. The fries were hot and perfectly salted, though not as crispy as I tend to prefer.  These were the softer variety, almost akin to roasted fries.  Excellent flavor and the range of sauce choices was cool. I'm a huge harissa fan after living in Morocco, and the harissa paste was a really fun side for the fries.  I would have liked it a bit spicier, but the flavors themselves were quite authentic. I ordered the beer cheese sauce as my second choice thinking, well, people up here really like beer cheese.  Evidently I do not like beer cheese.  Not a judgment against Ward 6's variety, just learning as I go sometimes. Harissa, yes! Beer cheese, no!

I had the camembert grilled cheese, which was light and delicious.  I love camembert with pears and the walnut butter was a nutty, slightly sweet companion to the bite of arugula. It was served on sourdough and I ended up taking the tops off and eating it open face, just because I think bread gets in the way of flavors sometimes. Melty camembert with excellent company (sleepy, adorable munchkin and all) was just what I needed after a never-ending work week.  Typically, the sandwich would come with fries but I opted for the beet salad on the side instead.  A few candied pecans, local blue cheese, beets, and a balsamic vinaigrette always make for a great salad.  Not reinventing anything here, just a solid mix of flavors that always make a mouth happy.  And the beet salad really went well with the camembert sandwich, I even smeared a bit of vinaigrette on my last bite of cheese-wrapped pear. 

My only regret is being too full for dessert.  They serve beignets (!!!) at Ward 6 and as a former New Orleanian, I feel it is my duty to judge them appropriately.  But I'll have to venture back for that excitement.  I'm not above having beignets and beer for supper. 

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Bulldog Nordeast

I do a lot of planning when it comes to where I go out to supper.  There are always a dozen or so places I'm keen to check out when someone asks me, "where should we get dinner?" But even the lists of new and new-to-me places are tossed aside when hunger, cold weather, and last minute planning come into play.  After a beer at Fulton brewery (ahhh, Sweet Child of Vine, how I love thee), I whined to a friend that I was hungry.  Hence, the decision to head to Bulldog Northeast, an easy drive from the taproom.

I've been to the Bulldog in Uptown too many times to count.  It's walking distance from me and so, in a pinch, this is where I often end up with friends when we're feeling indecisive and just want a good burger, a good beer list, and maybe some darts. The Northeast locale is bigger, of course, and the menu tends to offer a few more unique choices than the Uptown location, Delirium-braised mussels, tuna tartare, etc. 

I opted for the black bean burger Rooster style,which involves a sriracha glaze, housemade sweet pickles, garlic aioli, on a warm, thick bun. If this wasn't the best veggie burger experience of my life, I can't recall what could have trumped it.  I could eat this every day for the next month and be totally satisfied with life.  I'm a sriracha nut, and this glaze provided just enough kick to balance the sweetness of the pickles.  Served up with the asian vinaigrette-tossed salad, I couldn't have asked for a more satisfying impromptu supper. One of my favorite humans across the table, a new favorite burger on my plate...if only every Thursday wrapped up that nicely. 

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Grand Cafe

I frequent Victor's 1959, at the corner of Grand and 38th, fairly regularly.  While I'm a big fan of establishing familiar haunts, every time I've gone to Victor's I've looked across the street a bit to Grand Cafe and reminded myself that I needed to give the place a whirl.  Lucky for me, and thanks to the Twittersphere, I caught wind of a National Pie Day celebration there this past Wednesday and managed to not only enjoy my first trip to Grand Cafe, but celebrate a holiday I wasn't aware existed.

The interior of Grand Cafe is warm and romantic.  It's a small spot, with two- and four-person tables and small booths tucked here and there beneath soft, rosy lighting.  The evening was celebratory and the center of the main room held a table prettily decorated with pies destined for plates later in the evening. A $25 prix fixe menu gave one a vegetarian or meat-embracing option (I chose the latter) and finished with a "pie flight" of three gorgeous creations from local pie baker extraordinaire Christine Hoffman.

Cozied up in a booth, glass of Malbec in hand, the restaurant was the perfect balm against the negative temps swirling around outside.  A duck canape on flaky pie crust (coupled by my exclamation that the only time I made duck I dried the crap out of that sucker to the point of being forced to gnaw it free of the bone) was a decadent way to kick things off, but the light radish and caper-adorned salad that followed balanced out the naughtiness with some fresh greens and fennel flavors. The pork tenderloin was a lovely main course but I think the highlight of that dish for me was the kumquat marmalade.  Heavens. Can I just have a vat of that, please? I'd smear that on toast. Turkey sandwiches. Frittatas. Paired with the pork and squash puree, just divine.

The piece de resistance, of course, was the pie.  I went for the lemon lime confection on the left, the salty honey, and a bourbon chocolate pecan.  But I was lucky enough to not be dining alone and my companion went with the second flight option of cranberry walnut, apple with rosemary whip, and chocolate chess.  I had the chance to sample them all and the hands down favorite for me was my salty honey.  Perfectly light, sweet, enough salt to heighten that honey flavor, and a perfect buttery crust.  As much as I loved the salty honey, however, I also couldn't stop stealing bites of the rosemary whip cream.  What a wonderful companion to apple pie! Rosemary is strong stuff, but this whip held just enough of the aromatic to balance its sweet apple companion, an I am officially committed to trying my hand at that the next time I make an apple pie.

Pizza Nea

Pizza Nea has been on my "to eat" list for a good while, and a recent trip to the Guthrie provided the perfect "where should we eat beforehand" question to justify a trip.

I'm disloyal when it comes to my pizza preferences. I've loved Chicago style, St. Louis style, thick crust, thinner, typical delivery, Boboli with packaged pepperoni, homemade crusts with whatever-is-in-the-fridge...if the word "pizza" has been attached to it, I've enjoyed it in some form.  Yes, even pizza rolls.

But one of my grandest pizza memories occurred in Milan.  Visiting solo one weekend this past summer, I wandered the city without knowing a stitch of Italian and loved every second of it.  I made meals of gelato and espresso and, of course, pizza.

Pizza Nea reminded me of that Milanese experience, sitting at a rickety outdoor table a stone's throw from the Duomo.  And that is high praise for Pizza Nea.  Great Neapolitan-style crust, fresh ingredients, and a price that won't set you back.

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Gorkha Palace

Navarattan Korma

My kid sister goes to college in Texas.  While I envy her "winter", I do not envy the complete lack of ethnic restaurant options in her town. To ad insult to injury, the punk is also a vegetarian, and you can really only eat so many baskets of chips and salsa at the umpteenth TexMex establishment before wanting to scream.  So when she's in town for the holidays, she insists on only eating at ethnic restaurants. Ethiopian, Indian, Thai...they're all on the agenda.

For that reason, Gorkha Palace seemed like the perfect spot for some sisterly bonding before she headed back to her 60-degree winter in the great state of Texas. My sister had never experience Tibetan cuisine, so I was anxious for her to try the vegetarian mo-mo.  While I do prefer the yak variety (really, how often does one get to enjoy yak?), the veggie version was great and the accompanying tomato chutney was delicious. 

I'm disappointed to find that the tea list is not online and I'm kicking myself for not writing down the tea I ordered.  Unfortunately, the need to communicate the name of the tea is not because I found it delicious, but because I thought it tasted like socks.  My sister took a sip and immediately said, "broccoli," so there's a tea at Gorkha Palace that tastes like a hybrid of socks and broccoli.  So, tea-drinkers, be wary. 

The sock tea was the only hiccup to this meal.  We both ordered vegetarian dishes so that we could share (yes, I am a super awesome big sis) and I thought my Navarattan Korma was absolutely wonderful.  We were a bit skeptical of the mention of raisins and cashews in this dish but the tiny speck of sweetness added a needed cooling factor to the spice level. I love food with a solid kick so on a scale of 1-5 I tend to order a 4/5.  The 4 level at Gorkha is pretty perfect, just enough to justify another glass of water and a few clear-the-sinuses sniffles,and coupled with a hefty piece of rosemary naan, the Navarattan was exactly what I needed on a cold January night.  I will find it hard to venture away form this dish on my next trip, honestly.  It was good enough to make me care little about Gorkha's other options.  So the rest of y'all will have to report back to break me out of my rut.

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The Left Handed Cook

Midtown Global Market is fast becoming my favorite place to grab a bite to eat when I'm feeling otherwise uninspired.  The Left Handed Cook has exacerbated this feeling by being overly delicious, cheap, and delicious, and delicious. 

I love pockets of flavor.  I love little mounds of distinct ingredients that you can poke around in, pull apart, mix together, divide and conquer. The bok bok bowl at LHC is, therefore, paradise for my combination OCD/foodie nature. A lightly poached egg glues all these happy flavors together, with the spice of kimchee floating over fried (but not greasy) chicken and rice. The meal is satisfying without feeling heavy, and that's ideal, given that there are bites of cheese to be had next door at the Grassroots Gourmet and cupcakes to be tasted at The Salty Tart. 

The danger of a dish as wonderful as the bok bok bowl is that I'm going to be tempted to order it religiously, ignoring all other options.  It's clear I must bring more friends next time and require each of them to order something different so that I can taste everything.  I'm bossy, people can deal.

Check out The Left Handed Cook at Midtown Global Market and follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite.

World Street Kitchen

I trudged up to this new neighborhood joint in the midst of our 8-or-so inch snow dumping. Hallelujah, it was well worth the tumble I took on an ill-shoveled sidewalk.

WSK is housed at the apartment complex at 28th and Lyndale, dangerously close to Buffalo Exchange (dangerous considering my affection for both food and cheap clothes).

I'm not sure where to start with this place. There were too many items on the menu that piqued my interest so I'm positive I'll have to venture back.  The po'boy, specifically, makes me curious. As a former New Orleanian, I feel it's my responsibility to testdrive all area attempts at Cajun food.

WSK won points immediately for having Summit Saga on tap and the Saga paired wonderfully with the Korean BBQ lettuce wraps and aloo chaat. The BBQ was the winner of our pair but the chickpea party was excellent, too. The BBQ was tender and expertly sauce, with enough green onions to cut the sweetness. I wish the kimchee had been spicier but I recognize I live in a city of spice-phobes. And with a number of sriracha bottles dancing around, patrons can spice things up to their hearts' delight.

The interior is casual and with late night hours I imagine this could be a genius stop post-drinks, post-game, post-party, post-bad date, post-good date, post-anything. Good beer, delicious food, reasonable prices...welcome to the neighborhood, WSK!

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Quang

I've had a rough couple of weeks.  In the midst of the less-than-ideal turmoil, happily, I have been surrounded by good friends who encourage me to eat things other than my depressive staple of oatmeal and sweet potatoes.  And that encouragement, for whatever reason, often leads me to Quang.

I first tried Vietnamese food while living in New Orleans, where my two dearest friends and I would tuck into a neighborhood Vietnamese joint and bemoan our student loans, our spawned-of-Satan professors, and the general exhaustion that saddles every law student.  We went there when we were sad or sick and we went there when nothing else on the planet sounded remotely appetizing. It was comfort food, those big, steaming bowls of pho or messy piles of noodles with rooster sauce.

Quang has the same feel for me.  It's a place I go to when I'm craving something gentle and soothing, something that's warm and hearty but not heavy.  It's a place I go when my nose is stuffed up or I'm feeling heartsick or I'm lonely or I just want something simple that tastes like the other places I've lived in and loved.

I went to Quang tonight with a dear friend, and while we skipped the best spring rolls in town (a mistake, surely), we settled into our bowls of happiness with the fervor of those who've walked a few blocks in the chilly, autumn air.

Quang provides the type of food that perfectly underlies comfortable conversations, conversations born of long friendships and new connections.  The pho is hot, so demands a slow dip of the spoon, and slinging noodles with chopsticks just slows a body down.  The pile of goodies you dump in on your own whim, the limes dancing with the jalapenos and jockeying for attention before the bottle of sriracha.  All are a reminder of every time I've sat in a booth and nursed a wound with a spoonful of pho.  And, as a logical foil, they are a reminder of every time I decided to stop being sad.

And I'm not the only one who seeks out Quang when they're down and out.  While we were leaving, I overheard a snuffly-nosed fella ask for a table of one.  He said he wasn't feeling hot, so he needed some soup.

Yes you do, kid. Yes you do.

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Good Earth

I've never had a bad meal at The Good Earth, whether I'm at their Edina or Roseville location. I've had a mild addiction to their turkey meatloaf with red pepper sauce and gingered yams.  It's one of those dishes that has kind of ruined me for most purposes at the restaurant.  I rarely deviate from the turkey meatloaf route and despite thoroughly enjoying that dish (obviously...mmm, red pepper sauce...) I regret not being more adventurous with their menu.

After my rare deviation last night, I'm even more frustrated with myself that I haven't tested the waters with other dishes.  The trout with cilantro-pumpkinseed pesto and butternut squash called my name, in part because butternut squash and I are currently in the throes of a passionate love affair. I'm not sure if a person can overdose on butternut squash, but if it's possible, I'm close. And I was also intrigued by the cilantro-pumpkinseed combination as I couldn't quite imagine cilantro flavors being embraced by the earthiness of pumpkin and butternut.  But the tinge of bitterness in the kale was the perfect foil for the cilantro and the plate ended up being a perfectly light, perfectly autumnal evening meal. 

Suffice it to say, the turkey meatloaf is going to have to take a spot on the back burner for awhile.  Clearly, I have some menu exploring to do, of which the trout was simply step one. 

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Babani's Kurdish Restaurant

When visiting the Ordway recently, I took the opportunity to experience Kurdish food, a genre I couldn't even really picture before entering the restaurant.  Would it be like Afghani food? Middle Eastern in some way? Indian-esque?

My experience at Babani's would result in a "none of the above" answer to those possibilities, if only because the food was uniquely its own.  Located walking distance from the Ordway, Babani's has been opening the eyes and mouths of Twin cities folks since 1997, which I think is wonderful!  The exterior of the restaurant is unassuming and easy to pass by, but the interior is a colorful homage to a culture about which I will honestly plead ignorance.  The rugs on display and some of the dress reminded me slightly of the decor and clothing of the Berber women I lived with in Morocco.   The mixing of the rice and entree reminded me of the activity involved in ordering a curry, but the flavors were specific and there was a different type of warmth (not better, not worse) than the cumin-heavy delicacies I lived off of in North Africa.

We had Nareen to start, a Kurdish bread topped with feta and served with a spiced tomato sauce.  I just love to see how different cultures land on the same general concept of awesomeness. Tomato+bread+cheese = delicious.  It's not rocket science and it's hard to mess it up.  This was a wonderful way to start off a yummy evening.

We each had soup with our entrees, Niskena for me and Dowjic for my date.  The Niskena was a blend of lentils and spices and wasn't too different from other lentil soups I've had.  I would say that they nail the perfect balance between lentil and broth, which can be tricky as I've had some intensely goopy lentil soups recently.  So while the soup wasn't a particularly new experience for me, it was a well-executed one.  The Dowjic was a unique blend of chicken, yogurt, rice, basil, and lemon, and it was incredible.  It was soft and brothy, not like some yogurt-based soups that can be cloying and almost sticky.  It reminded me of a chicken and wild rice soup with the added benefit of perfectly blended yogurt, just enough tang to make you wonder what could be different about your bowl of goodness.  When we go back, I'm getting the Dowjic.

I'm a sucker for a good description and despite cutting back on my meat consumption of late, the description of Sheik Babani, named for the appearance of a man's striped trousers, sold me on diving into a meat-laden dish. Honestly, I don't even know the type of meat.  Maybe beef?  A mix of beef and lamb? Regardless, the meat mixture was simmered in a delicate, mildly spicy tomato sauce and stuffed in eggplant and served with a plate of basmati rice.  It was a healthy, but not overwhelming portion, that stuck to my ribs for the night in a comforting, almost-winter-so-you-better-warm-up-those-bones sort of way.

Babani's is almost hidden in downtown St. Paul, and given that it has been around for 15 years, it's probably not high on anybody's list of "new" places to try.  But if this place is new to you, it's worth the trek to St. Paul.  It's delicious.  Order the Dowjic, you'll thank me.

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Cupcake

I was unimpressed, at first, by the name of this shop.  Naming a cupcake shop, "Cupcake," just seems especially lazy.  But now that I've tasted twelve (12!) of their creations, I'm a bit less judgmental. They could name the place "Letter Opener" and I wouldn't question it. Who cares?! Eat cupcakes! Eat cupcakes!

Luckily, I was in the company of three other cupcake-lovers, so test-driving 12 flavors (over several hours, thanks to the handy dandy box above) was pretty manageable, moreso because these little dreamboats aren't huge.  They're a normal cupcake size, which is refreshing.  I'd imagined some sort of lets-make-everything-HUGE type establishment (such an American ideal these days), and was relieved to find that these are the same size little cakes of happiness you make in your own oven at home. Leaves a bit more room for trying out multiple flavors.

While all the cakes were yummy, I was most impressed with the less traditional varieties. The red velvet and typical chocolate varieties were great but rather unexciting.  I wouldn't necessarily reach for a second cupcake. But the peanut butter and jelly (named the Anti-Bullying Cupcake) and the tiramisu were absolutely perfect.  I'd have to restrain myself if seated next to a plate of Anti-Bullying cupcakes.  And the tiramisu was the lightest of our choices, which would make it perfect for a late night snack alongside that glass of wine.

It's no secret that this shop knows its sugar.  I was introduced to the place because a friend saw that it had won Cupcake Wars and it seemed highly irrational that we'd be driving around town NOT stopping to taste test such victory.  Upon trying the aforementioned Anti-Bullying cake, I said I'd be game for just coming to Cupcake for dinner (they do serve various quiches and sandwiches and soups, although I kinda think I'd just commit to sugar for my evening meal) the next time we can't figure out where we want to go.  Seems rather decadent, I suppose, but everybody needs a cupcake for dinner every once in awhile. Everything in moderation, including moderation...

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The Bachelor Farmer

I've been wanting to try The Bachelor Farmer since it opened last year.  But clearly, everyone else in the metro area had the same idea because we ended up making our reservations a good three weeks in advance.  But the anticipation greatly added to the joy of the evening, so I won't fuss about the wait.  I spent the few days before our dinner peeking at the menu here and there, googling the words I didn't know (I'm always excited by menus that expand my vocabulary).  My date purposefully avoided the menu posted online in a desire to fully appreciate the breadth of creativity at 6:15pm of Thursday, Sept. 20.  I really think these are just two versions of the same passion for tasting new things.

We stopped first at Marvel Bar, a fantastic way to kick off the evening with stunning, unique libations. We followed those up when seated at TBF with a Hemingway (for me), which was a wonder of icy lemony goodness. We started the meal at TBF with a plate of radishes, salt, and butter accompanied by a pile of crisp toasted-cheese flavored crackers. This boded well for the rest of the meal because I've recently been slicing radishes into everything, even dishes that really don't make sense, just going through a bit of a radish obsession at the moment.

We decided to start by splitting an appetizer and a toast.  I don't know that I've ever seen a collection of toasts before, five or six choices all perfectly crafted to spread on a warm piece of bread, said bread to be arranged in a nifty silver tower that I clearly need in my dream kitchen. We chose a collection of heirloom tomatoes drizzled with anchovy aioli as our appetizer and the duck liver pate with pickled cauliflower for our toast. As proven by the picture, I was sopping up the oil on the tomatoes with everything in reaching distance (bread? fingertips?). As delicious as the tomatoes were, it was the pate that we both raved about.  The sweet, chutney-ish prune marmalade and the accompanying stone ground mustard were perfect complements to the flavor and texture of the pate.  I could have happily made a meal off a loaf of those toasts and a plate or two of the pate.

But where would the fun be in stopping after pate? I opted for the fish du jour, a beautiful cod partnered with clams and my date opted for the grilled pork leg with pole beans, which I mistook for duck at first nibble, likely a result of a couple strong drinks and the melt-in-your-mouth quality of the pork, a feeling that I usually associated with a well-done duck.  The cod, though perfect, was outshone by the clams.  I had to force myself to keep up some semblance of conversation despite really just wanting to squirrel away in a corner and suck every ounce of YUM! out of each wee little clam. I don't know that TBF supports squirreling away in corners, and my date probably would have arched an eyebrow at that behavior, so I maintained a modicum of decorum and just exclaimed, often, how deeply I appreciated the clams. As much as we each raved about our individual choices, the side we chose to share, caramelized fingerling potatoes, was the dish we both were struck a bit dumb by. In a perfect world, someone would be waiting at home with a bowl of these babies after every bad day.  Days later, my date mentioned that he could still taste those caramelized potatoes.

To polish off the night we knew we wanted dessert. I think initially we'd thought we'd split something, but then they brought out the damn menu and we were torn between too many options.  We felt it important to try at least two desserts, so splitting just really became irrational. I immediately committed to the blue cheese Napoleon with maple-glazed figs and my date sided, after much debate, with the smoked white chocolate ice cream concoction.

I'm not one to ignore chocolate, typically. I would be suspicious of anyone who turned down a plate of drippy, decadent ganache. But I would take one of the blue cheese napoleons over the chocolate creation every single time. The combination of figs and Big Woods blue cheese (a variety I insist on "trying" in every cheese shop, just to make sure I still love it as much as did the first time I tasted it) and the sweet addition of brandy ice cream just make for a dessert unique enough to displace even, gasp, smoked chocolate.

While the food was certainly the star, I can't say enough great things about the service, too. Our waitress was warm and helpful (fixed a shaky table) without being overly attentive, and she seemed genuinely invested in making sure our evening was a happy one. I was a waitress long enough to know that you can't fake that type of hospitality, you either care about your guests' experience or you don't, and the waitstaff at TBF simply shone with warmth.

I don't normally do this, but as my date and I discussed the meal in these terms, I'll offer the following as a sort of ranking of importance for anyone headed to TBF for this menu (still the summer menu, I imagine the fall menu will debut very soon, given the days' chill recently):

Heirloom tomatoes with torn bread: delicious, especially if you're a big tomato fan, but not the most memorable dish

Duck liver pate: you'll regret not eating this

Grilled pork leg: my date raved, I was more impressed by my cod with clams (the market fish choice for the day)

Caramelized potatoes: I will judge you if you do not order these.

Smoked white chocolate ice cream with chocolate shortbread: wonderful, especially if you're in need of a chocolate fix

Blue cheese napoleon: One of the best desserts of my life. Period.

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French Meadow (airport)

I live near the Uptown French Meadow location so I'm well-acquainted with the perfection of its omelets, orange juice, and various sandwiches and pasta dishes. But given my need to kill a lunch hour at the airport, I'm especially grateful for the airport location today.

I will say, the service can be a bit lethargic, which is not a good quality in any restaurant but is especially ill-suited for an airport cafe. Luckily, my gate was nearby.

And, lethargic or no, the fish tacos were far yummier and healthier than my second choice (Snickers bar and a Diet Coke).

Bricks Neapolitan Pizza

After our jaunt to Stillwater we crossed the river and drove a few miles south to Hudson, as I'd heard good things about Bricks Neapolitan Pizza and I require a substantial dose of pizza the night before races.  So while I usually stick to my traditional Pizza Luce Ruby Rae, I decided to test the superstition attached to that pie and try my hand at another pizza joint.  As I'm writing this review post-race, still alive and happy with my performance, I'm pretty sure the pizza tradition has legs but the locale, perhaps, is less important.  As long as it's good...

And if "good" is a requisite for pre-race carb-loading, Bricks more than delivers because the pizza is fantastic.  We got there before 6 so we each received a free small salad with our pizzas and while I didn't take a picture of the gorgonzola salad, I can assure you that I pretty much licked that bowl clean. Delicious. The roasted garlic honey dressing was wonderful paired with that distinctive gorgonzola flavor.  I'll be trying out that combo (honey+garlic+gorgonzola) in recipes soon, I can feel it.

But the pizza is the real attraction.  I ordered the Bella (pictured), which had asparagus, parmesan, red onion, and pine nuts on top of the classic San Marzano and mozzarella-topped crust.  A great Neapolitan pizza has a light, flavorful crust with a touch of char on the bottom, small pockets of air where the outer edge meets the cheese, and a bit of restraint as far as cheese goes.  Bricks does this masterfully. The tomato-to-cheese ratio was perfect, allowing the special toppings to shine individually without being lost in a sea of ooze. I especially liked the surprise crunch of the pine nuts. I need more pine nuts in my life.

My boyfriend ordered the Salame (we were informed that "the boys" love this one, so clearly it's the tough guy, macho pizza), which had pepperocinis, basil, goat cheese, salami, and garlic.  It had a hint of a kick, but we're crushed red pepper people so a kick is always welcome. The Salame was a bit too salty for me, but as I'm not one of "the boys" perhaps it's fitting that I prefer my pine nut perfection. The boyfriend polished this off happily so clearly it was a winner in his book.

Bricks is a hike from Minneapolis, but on a sunny, autumn afternoon, when the days just kind of seem  created for the purpose of leisurely drives, Hudson should be on your list.  This place is worth the gas money, I promise.

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