Nicaragua: Taska Kiko

The Entrance.

One of the benefits of writing a blog and allowing people to know about your quest for great food in the world is that, every once in a while, your friends will do their best to accommodate your desires. Knowing my desires, my friends decided to wait an extra day for me to arrive in Managua before going out to eat at Taska Kiko. I am forever grateful.

I've heard different stories about Managua. Some say it's dangerous. Others say it's the safest capital in Central America. Whatever the case may actually be, everyone seems to discourage my interest in visiting the casino. It's literally across the street.


Brent weighs in.

Maybe I could get shot. Or kidnapped. Perhaps besieged by angry Sandinistas. It's only across the street, I think to myself. I can make it.

Don't get me wrong, our hotel is on Carretera a. Masaya - one of Managua's busiest thoroughfares. There's people everywhere. Not to mention some street vendors selling food a block away. Let my people free!


Pouring Sangria.

In other cities, we would walk. Not here. Our movements are timed and shuttled in Don Roberto's HiAce minivan. For our dinner tonight, we pile back into the van and off we go. I'm expecting a bit of a ride even though they said the restaurant was close. Just a couple of short blocks from Carretera a. Masaya, in a residential neighborhood, and suddenly, we're there.

I would tell you it took five minutes to drive there but that would include the time it took for me to walk from my room, down the elevator, out the door, into the van, drive there and get out. Sixty seconds seems more like it.


Cleofas, Rouki, Alirio and Julio with the Owner of Taska Kiko.

Nestled between what look to be nice homes in the darkness of night is Taska Kiko, a Basque restaurant specializing in seafood. Like many restaurants in the capital, Taska features an open-air dining room with peaked thatched roofs held up by large wooden timbers. The feeling is breezy, warm and tropical. A perfect setting for seafood.

It's just after 9am and the dining room isn't too busy. Just a couple of other tables and our group of international judges: Cleofas Arreola from Mexico, Roukiat Delrue from Guatemala, Brent Fortune from Portland and Alirio Laguna from Colombia. We're being hosted by Julio Peralta and Martha Mendieta from the Associacion de Cafes Especiales de Nicaragua (ACEN for short).


Sauteed Shrimp

We settle in and the drinks start flowing with pitchers of sangria. There's talk of wine and more Nicaraguan rum, oh my. In my mind, I remember that moderation needs to be my key but the sangria is cold, tasty and my glass empties rapidly and refills equally as fast.

People ask me what I like most about traveling - this is it. Sitting around a table with promises of great food and adventure in a different country with friends old and new. The last time all of us were together we were freezing out butts off in Copenhagen insisting that we dine al fresco. I'm pleased that it's warm instead of cold.


Cheese


The Bread

Looking around our table, I reflect on how long I've known these friends. I've known Brent the longest since the NASCORE 2004 show in Portland. I met Cleofas that same year through the USBC. Rouki and I did the Ethiopian championships in Addis Ababa last year and Julio also froze his butt off in Copenhagen. My new acquaintances are Martha and Alirio, both of whom are becoming fast friends - even though Alirio's English skills are about the same as my Spanish.

A plate of bread lands on our table. It's beautiful. Hot and fresh baked, it's crusty on the outside and light spongy on the inside. I'm dreaming of salted butter.


Jamon Iberico

Suddenly, the sauteed shrimp arrive. Exquisite. The flavor is perfection. Buttery rich, one must suck the heads for full effect. Not to do so denies one the ultimate pleasure of the dish.

Next up is a plate of cheese and jamon iberico. The cheese is slightly sharp and flavorful, but it's the jamon that demands your attention. It's rich, dark, salty and fatty. The slices glisten with fat. It's also extremely gamey, which is slightly off-putting but it's the hallmark of the jamon iberico. Guess it has to so with it's diet of black acorns.


Grilled Beef and eggplant.

Sadly, Rouki has allergic reactions to seafood and is missing out. What a shame. But there's a dish of sliced grilled beef and eggplant to try. Simple. Salt, pepper, lime and onto the grill. Lovely. The flavor is bold and beefy.


Grilled Calamari

When the grilled calamari drizzled with olive oil arrives, I know I'm going to start facing serious resistance from my friends. It's damn good. Amazingly good. The texture of the calamari is just perfect. Chewy with the right amount of bite. I imagine forks stabbing into hands and knives arcing through the air, it's that good.


Alirio Laguna


Grilled spiny lobster with sweet potatoes.

The seafood continues with a plateful of spiny lobster. I don't think I've ever had spiny lobster before and dig in. I love lobster. The only problem with lobster is that there never seems to be enough. All that work hacking through the shell for that one chunk of tail meat.

For my dollar, I'm a big fan of the Maine lobster. It's meaty and thick. It's what I grew up eating and I have a predisposition to it's texture. Spiny lobster is lighter, flakier and more fluffy than Maine lobster - and there's less meat. The problem with the spiny lobster are the spines. They're quite sharp and actually hurt. This impacts my ability to really dig into the nooks and crannies of the lobster and dig out every morsel of meat. Even in death, the lobsters spines protect it from desecration.


Cleofas in his element.

There's no other way to describe it, this has been a feast. A variety of flavors and textures. Me likey. If more meals were like this, life would be a fairy tale.

There's talk of dessert but we're stuffed. How about some after-dinner drinks? Hmm, somehow after dinner drinks seem so civilized, which is unusual for me. We try a local drink. It's alcoholic but sweet and on the rocks. Do you want more? No, thanks. One is enough. We have to work tomorrow.


Liquor on the rocks.

As we drink, Julio notices an older gentleman and introduces us to him. He's one of the grandfathers of the revolution. A true Nicaraguan hero. We have a photo with him. Just a few hours in-country and already we're being introduced to famous people, this must be what it's like to be Prime Minister.

Afterwards, we pile back into Don Roberto's van and the one minute drive back to the Hilton where it's time to crash out for a day of judges training in the morning at 7am.

The casino is just across the street...


Our group with a leader of the revolution.


Taska Kiko
Los Robles Monte de los Olivos 1c al E No.6
Nicaragua - Managua, Managua
505-2701569

Nicaragua: Managua Primero Dia

Morning breakfast at the Hilton Princesa.

My room in the Hilton Princesa faces east. Due east. As demonstrated by the powerfully blinding sun blasting me in the face refusing to allow me to sleep through to my 7am wake up call. I'm tired and want to sleep a bit more. I pull the covers over my head but the fluffy white comforter is relatively thin and the light pierces the veil.

I don't want to get up and close the drapes and drop a pillow on my face. It's thick and luxurious and effectively blocks out the sun. Success, but the pillow now restricts my ability to breathe. I have no choice: I must get out of bed to close the drapes.

Once closed, the room is dark. Almost tomb-like with a slight glow shimmering around the edges. Finally, I get back to sleep for just a few minutes. Problem is, I've expended so much mental energy thinking about how to abate the light, pulling the covers, using the pillow and then getting up and closing the drapes that my mind is up and running. There is no going back to sleep.


Carretera Masaya - The world outside my window.

Breakfast is in the hotel restaurant and it's the standard hotel fare found around the world. Fruits, juices, pastries, omelets and eggs to order, and a hot line of ready to eat goodies. Nestled amongst traditional breakfast fare like ham, sausage, hash browns and waffles are Nicaraguan items like beans and rice, fried plantains and something that looks like pressed and fried soy bean patties that turn out to be fried cheese.

The quality is to be expected. Dried out hash browns, overheated ham slices and rice on the dry side. Rouki tells me that the rice and beans are very traditional and I wonder if this is an accurate example of Nicaraguan cuisine. I certainly hope it isn't.

I decide to go with a mixed plate of rice and beans, a slice of ham, a slice of sausage, a hash brown, some of that soy-looking fried thing, a small croissant, two fried eggs, a coffee and a glass of sandia agua fresca (watermelon juice). I'm eating the soy-looking thing and it's dry. It may have been fried nicely but it's been sitting in the steam tray for quite some time and now it's resembling the texture of leather. Rouki later tells me that it's a traditional Nicaraguan item of fried cheese and not the fried tofu I had been thinking.

The eggs are the highlight of the meal. Eggs over easy, but they need some help in the form of hot sauce. I ask one of the staff (who by the way, have been more than helpful and friendly) about hot sauce and they disappear for a considerable while. I start to wonder if someone has forgotten when she reappears with a bowl of chopped onions, chiles and vinegar. I'm guessing they don't have bottles of Cholula or Tabasco, so they made me a hot sauce fresh. That's nice.

When it comes to coffee, there's some good stuff here in Nicaragua. Evidently, the good stuff is exported to places like the United States where people like me pay high prices for good coffee. In-country, they drink something that other people call coffee.

Actually, I can't get too down on their coffee. It's pretty bad but unlike a lot of the bad in the United States, this one actually seems like it has a good brew ratio. The flavor is unfortunate, but at least it tastes unfortunate. Unlike American coffee that can barely taste unfortunate because they use too little to really notice.

Of all the agua frescas in the world, the sandia is my favorite. I can drink an entire watermelon's worth [with enough time], but this stuff tastes like watermelon grown in the middle of winter: dead. There is no discernable flavor. Just limp watermelon-ish liquid that looks red. There's no sugar added and it really needs it. I wonder if this could be a new diet fad in the making.

After breakfast, Roberto is back with the van and we're whisked away to the Crowne Plaza where we're meeting the competitors and holding their information session. Baristas from all across Nicaragua are here. Twenty-two of them.


Cleofas leading the barista session.

You know, the more that I judge outside of America, the more I enjoy it. As Cleofas Arreola leads their session, I watch their faces. These baristas make roughly US$140 per month, which is a decent wage here in Nicaragua. But I see in them an openness and eagerness that so readily gets lost in the hyper-competitiveness of the United States Barista Championship. I'm eager to see them in action on Friday.

Lunch brings us to the local mall, the Galleria Santo Domingo, where the competition will be held. In the mall, we run into Lorenzo of La Marzocco who's in town at the end of his La Marzocco Central American Goodwill Tour. He joins us for lunch and is off back to Milan in the morning.

Our host, Julio Peralta takes us to RostiPollos, a local chain specializing in rotisserie chicken. It's a de facto feast. After a really good amuse bouche of tortilla chips and pickled onions, we order some salads. I go for the Ensalada Tricolor con pollo. It's garnished with dry chicken breast, tomato wedges and is actually not bad. Brent goes for the mixed salad and Martha with the chicken caesar.


Julio, Rouki and Brent at RostiPollos.

For our main meal, Julio orders up two Super 4 combos: whole rotisserie chicken, a big bowl of refried beans, three rolled and fried tacos (like flautas), fried cheese and a stack of corn tortillas.

The tortillas are thick and weigh a ton. One is gonna be more than enough. They're thick and dense but I'm not getting a massive corn flavor like the ones I sampled in Mexico City. The refried beans were something else. I'd never tasted any bean quite like this. Fried and mashed into a thick puree, the beans had a distinct sweetness and tasted slightly spiced. Brent noted that it tasted like butternut squash, I thought it reminiscent of spicy pumpkin pie.


Our RostiChickens.

After this mornings' taste of fried cheese tiles, the fried cheese at RostiPollos was actually pretty darn good. Salty cheese cut in cubes and deep fried. Why this isn't popular in America is beyond me. With a tall glass of Coke, I could tear this dish up. The taco/flauta was pretty good. Thick, crunchy tortilla wrapped around shredded chicken and topped with a kind of cole slaw. Tasty.

But with a name like RostiPollos, one would expect the chicken to be the specialty. Indeed, there's a wood fired rotisserie oven churning out chickens and while the leg and thigh pieces are properly cooked, I found the breast to be on the dry side of moist. You know how dried chicken breast dries out the mouth when you eat it? It wasn't that bad but there was some drying action. Better to stick with the dark meat, 'cause that was pretty good.


Martha and Cleofas eye my salad.

We're running out of time and hustle our way back to the Crowne Plaza for the afternoon Judges Workshop. Seventeen people have decided to pursue the certification. Some are owners (or soon to be owners). Others have ties to producing coffee. The session is being led by Cleofas in Spanish leaving Brent and myself fending for ourselves in the back of the room.

Throughout the day there's been small explosions in the traffic circle just outside our windows. Tensions have been running high in Managua since the weekend when elections were held to vote on the new city mayor. The Sandinista incumbent, Alexis Arguello, is fighting to hold the position from opposition candidate Eduardo Montealegre.



You don't have to worry about sniper fire if you have your laptop.

According to our sources, tensions have been rising because of the Sandinista's refusal to release election records supporting their claim of victory in the race. Clashes and riots led to the shooting of two opposition supporters on Monday and CNN today reported the finding of burnt and discarded votes in support of the opposition in the city dump.

Protesters in the traffic circle have been holding vigil and firing off improvised explosives the size of large firecrackers all day long. Sandinista supporters storm and damage a local mall, forcing the mall where the competition will be held this weekend to close "for security reasons." Those of us from out of town joke that the situation could spark into violence but there seems to be more than just a little truth to those jokes than we'd like to believe.


Alirio, Brent and Rouki lounge in the bar.

I hate to say this, but secretly I'm hoping for a flare up here in Managua. It's sick, it's twisted, it's deranged - I know this, but I can't help myself. To see a revolution again up-close and personal brings me back to the days in early 2001 when I was in Manila during the EDSA II Revolution. Back then, I had my press pass and video camera and shot some fantastic footage. Secretly I curse on Canon for building such a crappy tape mechanism that causes their cameras to crap out after a while. My Canon is sitting back home in Maryland because of that crappy mechanism. So much my guest appearance on CNN.

Nik Orosi once told me that while fighting raged around them in Croatia with fighting and blackouts, Nik and his friends partied the nights away at underground nightclubs. Instead of getting worked up and worried about the violence that could flare up at any moment, we find ourselves encamped at the Crowne Plaza bar where we occupy ourselves exploring the finer points of Flor de Cano rum, with the obligatory sides of Coke and water con gas.


Julio pondering the wonders of Nicaraguan rum.

Nicaragua: Arrival

Looking down upon the sea of lights below as we approached the city, I'm reminded of my time living in Manila. That mix of yellow-orange sodium vapor mixed with the dim whitish blue of fluorescent lights creating a strangely comforting blanket amidst the darkness.

We're arriving in Managua two hours late after weather delayed the plane in Tampa and mechanical problems kept us on the ground in Miami. Had we not endured these delays, the actual flight time from Baltimore to Managua is shorter than flying from Baltimore to Los Angeles.

On this trip, I'm lucky to have the first seat on the aircraft: 3B meaning that I'm the first off the plane. As soon as I pass through the open bulkhead I'm hit with that steamy mix of heat, humidity and the slight acrid aroma of burning garbage slash burning rice husks. It's an aroma I'm well familiar and one that, oddly enough, feels like home.

Managua's Sandino International Airport is reputed to be the most modern terminal in Central America and while it is a smart-looking building and interior, the immigration arrival hall is missing one thing: air conditioning. This means one thing: sweat. Not a profusion of sweat but rather that constant trickle of sweat that comes while living in tropical climates.

In line I meet two girls arriving on the Continental flight from Houston. They've also been delayed by two hours due to weather. One is here for the surf, which is evidently quite good here on the Pacific coast. The other is a girl from South Dakota who is here as an expat working with the school systems. But it's hot and I'm still sweating.

The only thing to do in times like this is hope that your body corrects itself quickly and adjusts to the temperature and humidity. Actually, the temperature is fine, about 85F. It's the humidity that kills and I'm starting to look like I'm taking a bath.

Your tourist card costs five dollars, so make sure you've got cash. Luckily, I still had some pocket money ($2K) so paying was no problemo (I'm kidding about the $2K). It's been a secret desire of mine to fill my passport to the point that no page was left unstamped. I was hoping that this would be the passport that would take me there but with my passport expiring in a year (and the fact that most countries require a passport to be valid for at least six months from the date of entry), I won't achieve my goal. In twenty years, I haven't been able to do it. Of course, it would help if I didn't try jamming it all into the past two years.

While I might fail in my mission to fill my passport, I have given it the Old College Try, which leads to my personal amusement as the immigration officer leafs through page after page after page looking for an empty spot to stamp. As she stamps an open spot in my passport, a warm feeling comes over me as each stamp represents a small victory in my pursuit of World Domination.

The rest of my passage though immigration and customs goes by smoothly and quickly. Outside, Roberto stands waiting holding a sign with my name on it. I know it seems foolish but I find it personally thrilling to have a driver waiting for me at the airport holding a sign with my name on it. I could be Donald Trump.

At 11:00pm, the streets of Managua are all but deserted. Like a Third World country, the streets are relatively dark. Maybe it's just my First World prejudice but streets always seem darker and lights always seem dimmer in the Third World. As we drive, I notice a few small eateries still open. Some are just drinking holes. All have those molded plastic chairs outside reminding me of many a night in SouthEast Asia drinking San Miguel Beer chilled with hand hacked chunks of hay-speckled ice.

Evidently, in Managua stopping at a red light is optional. Roberto doesn't stop at a light unless a car happens to be crossing the intersection. In fact, at the red lights he casually cruises us through them. It's the green lights where he exercises caution, fully expecting the driver with the red to ignore it and plow into us.

Managua is kinda odd for a capitol city. There are no high-rises in sight. There's no real central district. Everything is spread out. From what I've been reading, the earthquake of 1972 wiped just about everything out and rebuilding has been unconventional, to say the least.

Soon, we arrive at the Hilton Princesa. Check in is quick and painless. The staff is warm, friendly and the bell guy offers to send a massage therapist to my room for thirty dollars for one hour. Thirty bucks for a massage? Sounds good, tell her to come in twenty minutes.

After nine hours of traveling, a massage seems like a good idea. The massage itself is decent enough but the masseuse uses a crap load of lotion and soon I'm fully coated in floral smelling lotion. Close your eyes, take a sniff and I could pass for a florist. It's as though a flower warehouse exploded on my body.

Massage is over, I smell like a funeral and it's only been thirty minutes. Now the masseuse tells me the price is fifty dollars. Huh? Hell no, the bell guy told me thirty. No, it's fifty. No, it's thirty. Fifty. Fine, let's go down and talk to this guy.

Now, don't get me wrong, I'll pay fifty dollars for a massage. If it's good. If it's an hour. Heck, I pay sixty dollars for an hour massage at home. But the price I was quoted was thirty for an hour - and it only lasted for thirty minutes.

Down at the lobby, we get things sorted out. Turns out the massages are sidelines with thirty for the masseuse, ten for the bell and ten for the house (I'm guessing the front desk). Honestly, I don't have a problem with people getting their cut but with a price rivaling that at home, it isn't a deal - and it isn't a deal I would have gone for for fifty bucks.

Perhaps I should clarify something for long time readers of this blog who may be expecting me to stumble into some sort of seediness: this massage did not include any sort of "extras" or "happy endings." It was strictly legit.

After a quick discussion, I was assured that things would be handled and I would not be further inconvenienced. Good answer, I just wonder if I'll face any additional problems that may arise because of this. Gotta remember to lock things up extra tight.

After a hot shower with a lot of scrubbing to remove the thick coat of lotion, I climbed into the king-sized bed for a deep sleep filled with dreams of things to come.


Late Night Carretera Masaya - All things are for sale in Managua.

American First

For my trip to Nicaragua, I've been forced to switch from my beloved United and Star Alliance airlines to American and OneWorld. It's been over four years since I've flown with American and they've got the best routing: Baltimore - Miami - Managua, all for less than four hundred bucks. Fly the same routing on United and it costs nearly two thousand - and the Miami to Managua segment on TACA doesn't accrue mileage. Forget it.

Instead, I've managed to get myself an upgrade to First Class which means that I get to fly on American with roughly the same privilege that my Premiere Executive level gets me on United. I won't lie: once you've experienced some level of comfort, it's hard to go back to steerage. And on international flights, my first class ticket gets me admission into the Admiral's Club Lounge.

First Class service from BWI - MIA was perfunctory (I'm wondering if perfunctory service is mandatory within the United States). Some hot nuts, some beverages and that's about it. The seats are a more comfortable than United's domestic first with adjustable headrests, higher fold out tables (a considerable advantage when you have a tummy), and on-board DC power.

Miami is an American gateway to Latin America. Many of American's flights south depart the United States from here. American was the first airline to offer a frequent flier program and the first to offer a passenger lounge. The Admiral's Club Lounge is nicely appointed, nicely decorated and comfortable. The bar food offers a Latin twist with ham filled croquettes and potato balls. As far as domestic airline lounges go, it's pretty good and on par with United's Red Carpet Club at Dulles and ORD (Chicago).

USAirway's flagship club in Charlotte offers free candies and an assortment of chips. But, in American's defense, the Admiral's Club offers a children's play area with free sugar cookies - the hidden gem in the club that goes nicely with hot tea.

Our departure time to Managua is 6:45pm. Then it becomes 7:45pm Then 8:08pm. Flight delays are the worst, but at least the pain is lessened by the comfort of the Admiral's Club and my slow pickling with Bombay Tonics.

Once we board the plane there's still problems. This time, it's mechanical. It takes the ground crew another half an hour to solve this problem. Again, I'm in seat 3B which allows me to monitor their progress closely.

Finally, we push back from the gate. Then it's another twenty minutes waiting for a spot in airspace to take off again. By the time our wheels leave the ground we're two hours late. But at least we're on our way to Managua...

Saturday Sous Vide

A Saturday lunchtime steak with fresh biscuits and sous vide local corn.

Today, I'm in the mood for biscuits. Southern style, flaky biscuits. So I pulled out Edna Lewis' The Taste Of Country Cooking to hunt for a biscuit recipe. Sure, I could have use Bisquick, but why?

The recipe was simple enough, just lard, flour, buttermilk, salt, baking powder and baking soda. Mix up, roll and punch 'em out. Easy. Problem was, I didn't have lard, just manteca - which I figured would be a suitable substitute.

The recipe went by quite easily but the flavor just didn't hit me the way I was expecting. And the biscuits weren't puffy and flaky. While not quite hockey pucks, they weren't as expected either. I think it's because of the manteca and I suspect that the lard acts like butter in pate brisee, leaving little pockets of air and flavor that give the dough an "airyness." Maybe I'll make it out to the grocery store tonight and try again tomorrow.

Lunch was rapidly approaching and since I had just gone out to the farm to pick up some eggs, I grabbed a ribeye as well. This time, I was foregoing my usual pan fried method for a sous vide approach. Luckily, I already had clarified butter in the fridge so that saved an extra step.

The method is simple: make a hot water bath with your immersion circulator set to 58.0C (roughly 130F). While the water is heating, season the steak with salt and pepper and place in a vac bag. Add a lot of clarified butter to the bag as well. The idea is to "poach" the steak in the butter. If you're fancy enough to have a chamber vac at home, just add butter and seal. If you're cheap like me and only have a FoodSaver, it helps to chill and solidify the clarified butter first and then vac seal the bag.

Keep the steak chilled while the water bath heats. Once the temperature of the water reaches 58.0C, add the bagged steak and let it cook for one hour.

Now, for a nice steak like this, one hour really is all you need. 58.0C is going to bring the meat up to a nice pink medium and nothing more. No medium well. No well done. Once the steak is heated through, it's ready. You could go longer with tougher cuts to break down the gelatins but with a nice steak it's not necessary.

Since it's being held at temperature, the temptation is to believe that you can hold the steak in the bag indefinitely. This is a bad idea and one that I proved several weeks ago with a London Broil that I let cook for twelve hours. The meat was still pink but the result was mealy, grainy and overcooked meat. Not pleasant at all.

When the hour is up, heat up a skillet on the stove to the smoking point. Cut open the bag and pour some of the butter into the pan. Once the butter shimmers, it's ready. Lay the steak onto the skillet and brown both sides. Once they're browned, pull from the pan and set aside for five minutes.

There it is. Done. Ready to go. Simple. Easy. One thing to remember: use less seasoning than you normally would. The vac bag does not allow anything to escape and the effect of the seasoning is heightened. What may be just right for the pan or grill will be too much for sous vide.

Plate Lunch and A Zip Min

When I was in high school, there were a number of things that I believed to be true:

- The Cold War would never end.
- The Berlin Wall would always be there.
- There would be war in the Middle East.
- We would be annihilated in Nuclear Winter.

and:

- A black man would never be president.



I'm very pleased that the soon-to-be President Barack Obama understands the true meaning of plate lunch and a zip min.

The Politics of Plate Lunch

My voting screen before The Powers That Be hacked the machine and changed my vote.

I have just returned home from voting in the 56th Presidential Election. Exciting. Intense. Electioneering. People being turned away at the polls. Dead people casting their ballots. Riots. Tear gas. Garden hoses.

Okay, maybe not.

While reports have been filtering in all day about massive lines and long waits at polling places, my little polling place in our psuedo-suburban-rural hamlet was about average. Just walked up to the people checking me in, got my electronic reader card and then stood in line for about eight minutes until a booth opened.

From there, it was a quick insert of the card and a few punches later, it was all good.

In Maryland, there are a few hotly contested issues being fought. The first is the question on whether or not Early Voting should be allowed. Personally, I'm against it. There's absentee ballots available if you're not in town on Election Day but the ability to vote is a privilege and civic duty - it's not about "convenience" because you're too damn lazy to go out on the designated day to vote.

The second, more hotly contested fight is Question 2 and a constitutional amendment to allow slot machines in five locations throughout the state. Again, I'm against slots. Four years ago, slots weren't good enough for this state because the governor was republican (and the rest of the state democrat). Now that there's a democrat in the governor's mansion, slots suddenly make sense?

Don't get me wrong, I like gambling. Give me a craps table and I'm more than willing to throw down, but we need to limit government spending, not increase it. And I just love how they framed the slots revenue as a vehicle to pay for education. Once again, our "trustworthy" politicians frame their politics in a veil of supporting/protecting our children.

I'll let you guess which way I voted on that question.

But the real question on people's minds is: who did you vote for President?

There was the Write-In candidate and I certainly thought about voting myself as The Supreme Emperor and General Pontiff of North America.

Otherwise, I'm not telling.

I gotta say though, that I do like John McCain. He went to war and paid dearly. He fought for policies during his political career and has been around the block. Most people vehemently against him blindly believe that McCain will be another Bush. I don't share that opinion. I think McCain would be far better a president that George W. Bush with better policies - and his promises of No Taxes certainly deserves closer investigation. And his vice-presidential running mate is eye candy that Hillary Clinton could never match.

Then there's Barack Obama. I like him too. He's managed to invigorate America and capture its' imagination. That's important. He doesn't have that much experience in the Senate and perhaps that's a good thing. Though, his democratic majority Congress has done nothing to "reverse" what they say the republicans did to this country. Truth is, they screwed us all. And we let them. Then there's the issue of taxation. Obama says only 5% of the population will see a tax increase and that makes me nervous.

Throughout history, politicians have promised No New Taxes. Then, once in office, they persecute us with the taxation they promised they wouldn't levy. Now we have a politician who says he's gonna tax a percentage of the populace - which inevitably will somehow morph into a larger tax on everyone.

While I won't tell you who I voted for, I will tell you this: I voted for the candidate whom I thought would have a better understanding of the intricacies and fine points of a true Plate Lunch and 'Ahi Poke.



.

47.87%

Good Morning!

It's Tuesday, November 4, 2008 - Election Day in the United States. The day when the citizenry go to the polls to vote for a new American President. It's a day for celebrating Our American Way of Life. This time, there is no incumbent candidate - just like in 2000.

What did you do during Election Night 2000? Me? I was on a date. Nice girl. Nice time. Went out to dinner in Washington, D.C. and took her on a tour of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial and Abe's Place (The Lincoln Memorial). The weather was crisp and cold. It was a nice date. Later, we watched a little bit of the election returns and found lots of confusion going on. Went to bed and by the time I took her home the next morning, we still hadn't decided on a new president.

Fast forward eight years and a new election is upon us. We're ready. We're eager. We're excited. And we have new, computerized voting machines (mostly Diebold) that have been proven to be completely and utterly compromised by bugs and hackers. No longer will we suffer through endless weeks of counting silly pregnant chads. Instead, our votes will be tallied as The New World Order sees fit. No muss. No fuss. It's all computerized and overseen by the government so it must be legitimate.

So while you head out this morning to the polls (like I will), let's have a look at the 2000 Election Results:

George W. Bush - 50,456,002 votes - 47.87% - winner

Albert Gore - 50,999,897 votes - 48.38%


No, this is not a typographical error. These are the actual results released by the Federal Election Commission where Al Gore wins by a plurality vote. George W. Bush was named president by vote of the Electoral College. Here are those results:

George W. Bush - 271 Electoral Votes

Albert Gore - 266 Electoral Votes


Seems odd that in a nation where everyone is told that their vote "counts," the results show a different story. I'll let pundits and people smarter than me explain/debate this whole process but perhaps we should consider that the Electoral College was designed to give the people the illusion of the vote while not allowing the unwashed and uneducated masses have a say in who should be the leaders of our nation.

Whatever the case. Vote - 'cause we're still giving away free coffee at The Spro to those of you who do...

Exercise Your Right To Vote, Get Free Coffee

Tomorrow is Election Day in America and it's going to be a good one.

Personally speaking, I'm rather pleased about this election. The candidates are lively, interesting and exciting. None of the lame candidates like Dole, Kerry or Gore. McCain's actually done things, he looks good on Saturday Night Live and can laugh at himself. Sarah Palin just looks good. Obama has invigorated the voter base and inspired a nation. Then there's Biden. Who? I know, I don't know anything about him either. Just another politician in a suit that looks too stiff to me.

Happily, there's no Hillary. To be quite frank, I'm no fan of Hillary. Never have been. She's a carpetbagger. New York? She's from Arkansas - that's where Bill was governor before becoming President. I'm just glad she didn't make the nomination. She's just in it for herself and Amy Poehler's impersonation of Hillary during this season's premiere of Saturday Night Live was spot on. Enough with the Bush-slash-Clinton dynasties. They need to end. This isn't England.

Which meant that I actually had to consider the candidates (had it been Hillary, I would have voted for McCain without a doubt) and I think I'm ready for tomorrow's vote. I'm not going to tell you who I'm going to vote for but I will tell you that I will vote bright and early tomorrow morning. And that I haven't missed the opportunity to vote since I turned eighteen.

And if you haven't figured out who you will vote for tomorrow, here's a handy-dandy guide to the candidates:

Charles Baldwin - Constitution
Robert Barr - Libertarian
John McCain, III - Republican
Cynthia Ann McKinney - Green
Ralph Nader - No Party Affiliation
Barack Obama, Jr. - Democrat

With all this talk about Barack Being Black and Palin being a woman, I've been wondering why no one's paid any attention to the candidate who is both Black and a Woman: Cynthia McKinney. Her running mate, Rosa Clemente, is also a minority woman. Maybe McKinney received too much attention as the democrat who had that altercation with the Capitol Police when they didn't recognize her as a member of Congress? And maybe Clemente as a hip-hop activist is just "too black" for the mainstream?

Then there's Ralph Nader. I just don't get this guy. He's had a great history as attorney, author, lecturer and political activist but then he's the guy who's always running for president too. How can anyone take him seriously at this? So far, he's run for president in every presidential race since 1996.

Robert Barr... Libertarian... Former Republican. Barr, once upon a time, led the charge of impeachment against President Bill Clinton in the 1990s (guess he's not a Hillary fan either) and joined the Libertarian party in 2006. While Barr was touted as "the idol of gun-toting, abortion-fighting, IRS-hating" members of Congress, he was also severely critical of the Bush Administration's policies on privacy and civil liberties post 9/11, earning him new labels of "maverick," "jekyll and hyde," and "libertarian."

Long critical of President Bush, Charles Baldwin strongly opposes the New World Order, United Nations, Income Taxes, the Patriot Act and assaults on individual liberties. Emphasizing America's Christian heritage, he strongly supports the gold standard, the right to keep and bear arms, homeschooling, and pro-life legislation such as the Sanctity of Life Act (all of which as sure to earn him the Mark of Hatred by left-leaning liberals).

I'm going to presume that you know more than enough about the other two candidates, McCain and Obama. I'll let you visit Project Vote Smart to learn more.

Most importantly, if you're an American Citizen, it's time to vote. It's one of the few ways you can actually think you have an impact on our government (and I say "think" because it's really the Electoral College who decides the president - can't let the ignorant masses make the choices, can we?). Exercise your right to vote.

But, more importantly, exercise your ability to vote and come down to The Spro with your "I Voted" sticker and get a free 8z french-pressed coffee!

And The Spro and the Baltimore County Public Library in Towson will be open from 8am to 11pm tomorrow so that you can vote, drink coffee and watch the election returns. I'll be working the bar from 8pm to 11pm.


Spro Coffee
320 York Road
Towson, MD 21204
410-296-0023
www.sprocoffee.com

Setting A Standard

Whether it's online or in-person, I'm routinely asked questions about business. Should I do this? Should I do that? What do I do now? And while I understand that for the inexperienced operator these can be daunting questions, I find that the answer hovers around a very plain and simple concept.

In the coffee business, there are those operators who want to offer their town everything under the sun - just because they've heard that "everybody else" is doing it. Look around and you'll find a plethora of coffee shops offering coffee, espresso, latte, blended coffee drinks, eight hundred flavors of syrup, gelato, croissants, cookies, soups, salads, paninis, fax services, Internet wi-fi, coffee mugs, tea pots, t-shirts, hoodie sweatshirts, boxers, flavored coffees, milkshakes, ice cream, bottled sodas, fountain sodas, mints, computer repair services, CDs, DVDs, and God knows what else you'll find on display.

Then there are those who have been in business for just a few months to a year and now they want to add tertiary products, like fresh-roasted coffee. Just install a roaster and away you go!

Of course, then there's the very typical online discussion about where one can get their milk cheapest (with Wal*Mart usually leading the way). On other boards, they laud the Johnny-Come-Latelies, who have recently announced they're dropping the 20z cup - as though they're trend-setting when they're really behind the curve.

I've had the good fortune to do a bit of touring around the world visiting coffee places and sampling some of the best this planet has to offer. It's been good fun and I'm very thankful for the blessing but the one thing that stands out in my mind is: standards. Or perhaps the lack thereof.

Most of the questions that come across my desk (so to speak) can be answered with a question about standards. Does the person asking the question have them? Do they know what they are? Are they willing and committed to upholding them?

I find that knowing, understanding and holding firm to your standards answers many of the questions of business.

For example, we hold a standard for quality coffee and quality ingredients, sourced naturally, thoughtfully and as locally as possible. Within that standard, it dictates our path for milk (probably the most expensive and certainly not from Wal*Mart), tells us that multiples of flavors and blended drinks are out, that anything above 12z is just not for us, and that we're not interested in offering a varying range of gelato, panini and other sundry items - especially tea kettles imported from the United Kingdom.

When considering equipment, coffee or products, I don't have the crisis of conformity that many operators suffer. I know that our espresso is going to be made with care on a great espresso machine, that our "brewed" coffee is going to be made by hand and not some automated device and that we will provide an attention to service and detail uncommon in our industry. The knowledge of this is not hard because it's a natural derivation of the standards we pursue. It's also not easy because of those standards.

It's not easy because it requires more work and a greater attention to detail. We spend an inordinate amount of time bringing a new barista candidate up to speed - and then work still isn't done. It can easily take a month to prepare a new barista to work our bar and they'll burn through how many pounds of coffee and gallons of milk just learning to do what we do.

The equipment isn't cheap. In fact, it's some of the most expensive on the market. So while other operators are wondering which espresso machine is the cheapest and most bang for the buck, I already know which is giving the bang for the buck because we've got three of them.

While I had much of this in mind over the nine years I've been in business, it didn't come together as a cohesive concept until I started studying Keller. The man set a new standard and pursues it relentlessly. That standard guides and defines the path and our way. The standard provides the answers.

With that, I write this to encourage everyone to go forth and develop their standards. What are the standards you uphold and pursue? Know them. Understand them. Those standards will guide you as they have guided me. And this holds true for anyone at any level of the game. Whether you're out there trying to serve on the cutting edge of the industry or are just a neighborhood joint with a Franke SuperAuto.

So the next time you come asking me questions about what you should do in business, you know where I'm going to start.

Trick or Treat at Spro

RUN, DON'T WALK!!!

Trick or Treat with us at The Spro tomorrow (Halloween) to sample Sammy Piccolo's Canadian Barista Championship winning espresso blend. It will be in the third grinder tomorrow until it runs out.

And remember, we only have one pound of the stuff and it's at regular price. Just two bucks to taste the espresso that swept Canada.

For Halloween, The Spro will be open from 8am to 4pm. Bring your children for some Halloween candies too!

Paris, Oui! Paris, Non!

2008 was going to be a banner year. Three trips to Paris. Once in the winter, another in the summer and the third in the fall. I was planning on answering questions like: would I be able to smoke cigars at Robert et Louise? Is my space on Ile de Saint Louis still available? Will the receptionist at the hotel still be waiting for our date? Will the girl at the supermarche be there again with the pretty eyes?

All these questions were going to be answered during my November 4th trip to France and Italy. Once again, I was going to be in Paris. Dancing on the streets. And in the rain. I was going to tour the countryside and visit Provence, then make my way across Europe to Italy where I was going to see the white truffles of Alba, the red horses of Modena, the Lineas of Firenze and then make my way to the Espresso Expo in Trieste - and then be back in Paris to fill my suitcase with baguettes and Pierre Herme for the flight home on the 19th.

But all that won't be happening now.

Instead, I've accepted an invitation to visit Nicaragua and serve as a judge for their national barista championship. Instead of walking along a beaten path, I'll be forging new territory and exploring new adventures on the streets of Managua where the weather seems to hover around 80F.

Rather than indulging myself with steak frites, I hope to sample dishes like: Lengua en Salsa, Chuletas de Cerdo, Tajadas and Yuca Frita, or whatever my hosts decide to sample for me. You know my game: I'll try just about anything,

So, while my alter ego braves the long flight to Paris on the 4th, I'll be working the bar at The Spro from 8pm to Midnight offering refuge for the wretched Democrats, Republicans and other party members where we will watch on the Big Screen the night's election returns, instead of just waking up the next morning in Paris and finding out then who our next president will be.

The journey to Nicaragua starts on November 11th. I'll be reporting from Managua as events progress...

A Gentle Reminder...

Just a weekly reminder!

-------------------


To All Of My Gentle Readers:

First of all, Thank You Very Much for taking time out of your day to read my blog. That ever continuing tirade of rants, raves and adventures. It honors me that you allow me to share my experiences with you.

Over the next few months, we will be making a slow transition to an updated website and blog. Many of you arrive here by using the URL: onocoffee.blogspot.com. At some point in time, we will transition away from blogspot.com, rendering that address useless.

Please redirect your browsers, favorites and whatever you use to read this blog to the new URL: www.onocoffee.com.

The new URL will direct you to wherever this blog lands in the near future.

Thanks again.

Revisiting Louis'

This is what 35 minutes in a 200F toaster oven will do to rejuvenate day-old Louis' Lunch Cheese Works burger with grilled onion. Not bad looking. The toast crisped back up, added a sprinkling of sea salt and the burger was just fantastic. A lunch for a day at home recovering from the road trip.

The Morning After

After deciding that I was bored and didn't want to spend any more time (or money) on the road anymore, I drove home and slept in my own bed. Today, I'm feeling a bit under the weather because of some poor choices made yesterday that exposed me to a friend with a cold (dumb) and now I'm paying for it.

Being home means that it's also time to enjoy some of the bounty of my travels. Sleeping nicely in the refrigerator are my smoked pork loin, duck confit, duck fat and assorted cheeses from Montreal, a selection of baked goodies from Gesine in Vermont, and a selection of pizza slices and cheese works from Modern, Pepe's and Louis' in New Haven.

Just before I left New Haven, I stopped at Libby's next to Frank Pepe's for a pound of assorted Italian cookies. Add them to some of Gesine's macaroons and I've got a feast fit for coffee.

So this is all about the bounty and it's time to get to work. I pull out the leftover mac n cheese with shrimp and bacon from Hattie's and pile them into one of the mini gratin pans I picked up yesterday at the Le Creuset outlet, season with salt and pepper, cover with shredded sharp cheddar cheese and toss it under the broiler for ten minutes.

Meanwhile, I've got the French press out making me a pot of Caffe Artigiano's Ethiopia Biloya Natural, roasted by Vancouver's 49th Parallel Roasters and a gift from newly re-crowned Canadian Barista Champion Sammy Piccolo.

Bringing it all together is a freshly baked French roll with unsalted butter from Trickling Springs Creamery and the aforementioned selection of Italian cookies and macaroons. The Biloya is beautiful. It's light. It's sweet. It's absolutely a dream to drink. I love this coffee and I wish I had more. In fact, it's one of the few coffees that I can drink a full 16z - and that's saying a lot.

The cookies and macaroons pair brilliantly with the Biloya and I fear the day that I will run out (probably tomorrow). And I'm happy to report that after five days in a cooler, the mac n cheese is just lovely. With the extra seasoning, it's perfect. Just the way mac n cheese ought to be in my world: a pop then an explosion of flavor just dancing in the mouth.

In fact, that's how this whole meal has been: dancing in my mouth. A veritable mouth party of flavors. It's what I hope for in a meal and it's the way I hope that all people experience their meals. It's what makes life worth living.

And a good morning to you all.

New York: Woodbury Commons

I guess I'm a little late to the game but I finally made it out to the outlet stores at Woodbury Commons.

Years ago, The Porn King had told me that Alfred Dunhill had an outlet shop here. A place to find our favorite British accoutrements at discount prices? Sounds good to me. As it turned out, I never made the time to drive out here until today as I was sitting at Frank Pepe's trying to decide what to do next. The map on my iPhone pointed me through NYC but rush hour on a Friday night was no time to brush through the city and I took a circuitous route through Danbury.

Truth be told, I'm not a big fan of shopping. Oh sure, I enjoy gawking at the latest gadgets at Home or Restaurant Depot, but put me in a Saks Fifth Avenue and I'm dying. Can't stand it. Woodbury is chock filled with "high end" retailers - don't really know their names so I can't tell you, but my old standby Alfred Dunhill no longer has an outlet store here. Bummer. No leather sachet for me.

But all is not lost. By sheer luck, I happened to park right where I needed to be: smack dab in the middle of the Le Creuset and Williams-Sonoma outlet stores - not to mention the L'Occitane outlet just a short walk away. This is both good news and bad news.

The good news is that I love buying quality kitchen supplies at a discount. The bad news is that I have to spend money to buy those discounted kitchen supplies. But with our failing economy, I thought I would do my share to prop up our nation by charging these goods to my credit card and, thereby, extending our national burden even more in the hope that a complete crash of our economy will destroy our financial system, pushing the government to wiping out all of our personal debt.

Hell, if the government can bail out the corporations, they can bail me out too...

Le Creuset is discontinuing their Cactus line of products, which means that everything cactus (dark green) is 35% off. That sounds like a lot but then you realize that this is a Le Creuset store, which means they're pricing everything at their normal MSRP and discounting that price. But still, a 3.5 quart dutch oven for $107 isn't a bad deal. And the mini gratin dishes for six bucks is a pretty good deal. I went with the mini gratin dishes and a butter bell for the kitchen.

At the Williams-Sonoma outlet things took a bit of a different turn. Here, they actually have a lot of stuff on discount. Remnant items, leftovers and things they really want to get rid of. I got a wonderful Laguiole knife for $2.50, an ISI soda charger for $20 and a Le Creuset yellow 2 quart oval for $45. But the one that I just couldn't resist was the Cuisinart CPC-600 six quart pressure cooker. I had been eyeing for quite some time but kept putting it off. Then I saw it sitting there, calling out my name and I just had to. Fifteen percent off of $149.

Fifteen percent sounds like a decent deal but this is New York State where socialism dictates a sales tax of 8.12%, reducing the fifteen percent discount by more than half. No wonder we order stuff online.In this case though, the price on Amazon is $149 and even a measly six point something percent discount is better than nothing, so I go for it.

L'Occitane has been my favorite soapmaker for about ten years now but their 250g bars of soap are the standard ten bucks. Lame. I'm not going to pay two percent more in sales tax just to buy lavender soap. Happily, they've got two 500g bars of soap for nine bucks! Two kilos of soap later, I'm back out of the store for under twenty bucks - and my lady friends can be assured that I'll be reasonably clean for a couple more months.

8pm and I'm kinda bored. I could go to the city and party the night away. Call up some friends and crash. Truth is, I've exhausted my funding for this trip and I'm just getting bored on the road. Time to head home.

New Haven: Frank Pepe's

The Bacon and Mootz Pizza.

From what I can gather, Frank Pepe's is the ORIGINAL place for pizza in New Haven. Even at 4pm it's pretty busy. There isn't really a line but the tables are all pretty much full. Originally, I didn't think I was going to get the change to eat here because American Pie said it was only open for dinner. Don't know when it changed but Frank Pepe's now opens before lunch. Good thing I decided to take a drive down to Wooster Street anyway.

Located in the heart of New Haven's Little Italy, Frank Pepe's is a pretty big place with two dining rooms and an absolutely huge brick oven. It doesn't look like much at first, until you peer into the lit oven through the door. That's when you notice that it looks kinda deep. Real fricken' deep. Like fifteen feet deep. The oven is bigger than a New York apartment.


The crust.

Since I'm dining solo, I find it relatively easy to secure a two top from the friendly waitress who seats me. Pepe's has the usual assortment of pizzas but since I've already set the tone at Modern, I just go for a small bacon pizza to make an easy comparison.

While waiting, things are bustling. Like I said, the place is full and there's a steady stream of take out orders being picked up. Since it's only about 4pm, I can imagine what it must be like during the dinner rush. And it is a Friday night tonight - must be sheer pandemonium in here.


I was told the oven is 15' deep.

But for now, I'm okay. In a few minutes, my pizza arrives. Like Modern, it comes on a half sheet pan - does everyone in New Haven do this? I actually like this approach than the round metal pans pizzas normally come in. It's just kinda classy looking. Again, this is high-temperature pizza and it has the uneven colored marks of the classic pizza.

I take a bite. And it's just heaven. It's not as sweet as Modern's but definitely more complex. More depth, more juicy, a sheen of oil coats the cheese. God, this is good. Is this better than Modern? It's different. The flavors come together in a symphony. It's luscious and elegant. It's like a mosaic of flavors. The tomato sauce is sublime. Combine it with the cheese and the dough and it's almost unbelievable. This may very well be the best pizza in the United States.

I can't eat it all. I refuse to. I must reserve myself and see what it tastes like later, when it's cold (I've got the Modern leftovers in the truck). I ask for a box. I think that I should have ordered the large pizza instead - or at least an additional one for the road.


A Frank Pepe photo shoot.

Frank Pepe's is famous for its' pizza and now I know why. Yes, there's good pizza in New York City. There's good pizza in Washington, D.C.. But Frank Pepe's has a combination that I haven't tasted anywhere else. It really might be the best pizza in America. I must explore further. And I will report back later.


The Original Frank Pepe Pizzeria Napoletana
157 Wooster Street
New Haven, CT 06511
203-865-5762
www.pepespizzeria.com

New Haven: Louis' Lunch

It's a good thing I visited Louis' Lunch website before visiting. Otherwise, I might have ended up looking like a touristy fool.

First things first, there is a strict No Ketchup rule at Louis'. Violate that and I understand that they will mock you relentlessly. Next, know your order and how to order it. Don't stand there looking around trying to figure things out, just order. They're known for their burgers, so that's what you're gonna get. No bacon. No Jalapenos. No mustard. No portabello mushrooms.

Want your burger on a sesame seed bun? Shake yer ass down to McDonald's. Thinking about avocado on your burger? Beat it. Want fries? Get out. Louis' Lunch is a small place and the staffs' patience is even smaller - and now that I've been there, I understand why.




Working in tight confines will drive anyone to insanity or eccentricity. And Louis' Lunch is small. Very small. There's only two people working behind a very small counter and they do it all. Cook burgers, serve drinks, serve salad, hand out chips, etc. Did I mention it's busy? I was there around 3pm and the place was steady. Not jam-packed, but it wasn't mealtime either. Just steady. It took me at least fifteen minutes to get my burger.

So, combine a tiny workspace in a small building with lots of customers coming in a steady stream throughout the day and then mix in the usual East Coast Attitude and you can see why these guys want you to know how to order and manage yourself like a pro. Personally speaking, I hate being ridiculed while I order hence the reason I studied their website prior to my arrival.




Ordering is simple. Just tell them you want: "Cheese Works, Salad, Birch." That's it. Done. Easy. No one degrades you. Me likey.

What that jargon means is: "I'd like a cheeseburger please, cooked medium with a side order of potato salad and a bottle of birch beer." Whew, that's starting to sound like a mighty high-falutin' way of orderin' now, doesn't it?

Inside is a large community table, some two people alcoves and six seats along the main counter. Throughout the years, people have carved their initials into the wood, marking their turf and laying the groundwork to show their children twenty years later. I took a seat at the counter so I could have a good view of the cook in action.

Obviously I'm an outsider. A Newbie. A Louis' Virgin. I ask the cook if he would mind if I took some pictures. He nods "yes" but since I asked if he minded, I don't know if that nod means "yes, I mind and if you take a photo I'm gonna shove you in the charbroiler" or if he just meant that it was cool to take some photos. He's a pretty big guy of very few words (in fact, he's said nothing since I arrived) and I would really regret it if he meant the former.

Perhaps I'm just too dumb to follow my senses but I snap a couple of photos anyway. He doesn't seem to mind, so I continue.




I always enjoy seeing people in their workspace. Especially small workspaces because the real estate is so limited that they're forced to be efficient and Louis' Lunch is the classic example of efficiency. Everything has their place. Balls of beef that are rolled and pressed by hand before being slid into the fire of the charbroiler. Piles of sliced tomatoes. A drawer of peeled white onions. A number ten can of Cheese Whiz. Salt and pepper. Everything has a place and Jason (that's the cooks' name) doesn't have to move from his position. Everything is within reach, or a slight turn of the torso.

To his left and to the back is the rotary, gas powered bread toaster that's churning out a constant flow of toasted white bread. To the right of the toaster are four vertical gas charbroilers. Evidently, these are the same ones used when the place opened nearly 100 years ago. Place the patties in a metal basket that fits in the broilers and in just a few minutes your burger is ready.

In front of Jason is his main workstation. Presliced tomatoes stand at the ready and backup onions are in the drawer under the front counter to his right. I'm also seated to his right. As he works, he reviews the upcoming orders and lays out either deli paper or paper plates on the counter in front of me. When the meat is ready, he pulls the basket out, slathers one slice of bread with Cheese Whiz, adds the patty and tops it with a fresh cut wedge of onion and a slice of tomato and cuts the burger in half before either wrapping it in paper or serving it with napkins on a plate.

It's fast. It's efficient. And it's amazing to watch a professional in action. There's no wasted movements. No incessant chatter. No dancing. No tomfoolery. Jason is a pro and he's knocking the burgers out, one by one.






To my left, the girl at the counter is fielding orders, both in-person and on the phone. She's no nonsense. Just give me your order, pay and get outta the way. This is not genteel, white table cloth ordering but it's honest. She's without pretense. She just wants to process your order and move on to the next one. Be ready.

She scoops a serving of potato salad out of a large bucket and grabs a bottle of clear birch beer. Both are good. Nothing wild or crazy, just good. The potato salad has bits of hard boiled egg, which I like.

There's a lot of orders and it's taking awhile to get to my burger. I only paid for 33 minutes on the parking meter and I could be in trouble if I don't get it together. Rather than waiting for my burger to arrive, I decide to order another Cheese Works to go thinking that it will arrive just in time before I need to depart.

Finally, my turn it up and I watch Jason as he cooks and then assembles my Cheese Works. He slides it over to me covered by some napkins. Time to see what all the fuss is about and take a bite.

I prefer my toast nice and crunchy. Not charred and burned, mind you, but crunchy. I like textures and this toast is just right. Just the right amount of crunch. But how about the meat? Beefy. Very beefy. The beef flavor of the meat is pronounced. It's in your face, right where it ought to be. But it's missing something. The beef flavor is there and is strong but it's not rounded. It's not as good as it could be. It needs salt.

For a moment, I think about asking for salt but then decide against it. I don't want to incur the wrath of the staff - especially when I'm within blade radius. I've got another burger coming and I'll try that one later with salt.

The burger is good. It's just right. It's flavorful and balanced. Not too much bread, not too much of anything. Just a nice balance between the ingredients - which is something you don't find too often in burgers these days. Most places are just towering monstrosities that you can't get your mouth around much less enjoy properly. Not here. These burgers are good. Though I do wish they went a bit heavier on the cheese.

The burger was good and I'm happy. Is it what I was expecting? Yes, it's a good burger. A great burger even. But is it "The Best" burger I've ever tried? Perhaps not. It's damn good. Definitely one of the best but I don't know if I'm ready to say it was "The Best." Still needed a little more salt.

During my time at the counter, I got to observe obvious tourists come in, ask questions and try the staffs' patience, as well as a caller who wanted explicit directions but couldn't quite follow them. It's fun to watch the staff in action as they run from quiet observation to near hostility with comatose tourists. Go and check them out but remember to study up on how to order before you go.


Louis' Lunch
263 Crown Street
New Haven, CT 06511
203-562-5507
www.louislunch.com

New Haven: Modern Apizza

The Bacon and Mootz Pizza.

In the book American Pie: My Search for the Perfect Pizza Peter Reinhart seeks out some of the best pizza in the world and finds a mecca of pizza in New Haven, Connecticut. I read his book a year or so ago and ever since, I've been meaning to visit and sample for myself. Today, is that day.

According to Reinhart, there are three classic pizza joints in New Haven that defined the genre: Frank Pepe's, Sally's and Modern, with Pepe's being the first. In the book both Pepe's and Sally's open for dinner only and usually have lines down the block - which means I might not have the opportunity to try either of them. Hearing that Modern opens at the sensible hour of 11am, I head there first.


Nice crust.

Modern is just that, pretty modern. It's got that classic brown wood, collegiate look to it. Since I got a late start and it's past lunch, the place is looking a bit worn from the first daypart of service. As I hunt down a table, I notice that many of them have already been used and that bussing really isn't a priority here. From remnant bits of bacon and other toppings to stacks of plates and trays.

I find a spot by the main window and seat myself. The host, looking like a jock in baseball cap, gym shorts and Modern t-shirt pronounces mozzarella just the way Reinhart described: "mootz," telling me that while he might be in college, he's more local than Yalie. I take it as a good sign. He kindly wipes off my table of the bacon bits.


A little charred.

Coming to a new place is always difficult. What do you order? I'm here to sample what is supposedly some of the best pizza in America and I don't know what to try. Just tomato and cheese? Sausage? The works? Clams? So many problems. I decide to go simple: tomato, mootz and bacon.

I don't know why I chose bacon. It just rolled off the tongue. Usually I go for sausage. Bacon? I don't know why.

After a while, the pizza comes and it's served on a half sheet pan. The foodservice part of me loves the industrial look of the tableware. The pizza looks pretty darn good, though a part of it has been charred a bit too heavily for my tastes. It looks like black carbon, but I guess that's part of the dilemma when cooking with superheated ovens - the kind that are appropriate for pizza making.

The first bite is blazing. The pizza is still searingly hot. Crap. Luckily, I didn't burn my tongue or my taste buds. Let it cool for a few moments and then try again. Wash, rinse, repeat.

This time the flavor is unmistakable. There's a slight tang and then sweetness in the sauce. It's romantic. It's slightly complex. It's nourishing and it's warming. Wow. This is some good pizza. In fact, it's definitely one of the best pizzas I've ever had - although the best pizza I've had yet was the pizza at Salvatore Cuomo in Ginza, Tokyo.

But this pizza is great. The mootz just glistens and slides into your mouth. It's silky smooth with a mellow flavor. The bacon is, well, bacon. It can only do good. I know I've got a couple more places to hit, so two slices would be ideal. But it's so good, I end up eating three before I force myself to stop.

The downside to me is the crust. Not that it isn't good, because it is. I just wish the crust weren't soft from the toppings in the center of the pie. I don't know if it needs to be cooked longer to dry and crisp, or if it needs to be thicker in that spot. Though while it was soft, it was still delicious and I would like more.

Modern Apizza
874 State Street
New Haven, CT 06511
203-776-5306
www.modernapizza.com