Hot Dog and The Kebab Guy

Grilled Hot Dog with Mustard, 50th and Broadway.

The hot dog.

In New York City, they're the ubiquitous street food. I've had dozens of them over years and I don't even live in New York (anymore). A long time ago, I came to the realization that the "perfect" hot dog for me is the Sabrett. As such, I keep a stash in my home freezer for those times when I'm feeling the desire to eat a hot dog - usually in the morning pan fried in butter with fried eggs, rice and a press pot of coffee.

During my last trip to the city, I uncovered the grilled hot dog and I've been thinking about it ever since.

Hot dog carts are everywhere in Manhattan. They're so popular you can even find them at Gray's Papaya, Papaya Dog or any of the seemingly dozens of "papaya" named places (or at Nathan's). This time, I'm at 50th and Broadway heading for the New World Stages to see Avenue Q when I spy the Kebab Guy.

Kebab Guy is like many New York vendors. He's standing by the corner with his stainless steel cart, chatting with a buddy, feeding the hungry masses. He's got a good spot in midtown where lots of unsuspecting tourists happily feed his trade while eating something "authentically" New York. The Kebab Guy sells, of course, kebabs but he also sells hot dogs - because what fool with a cart doesn't sell hot dogs in New York?


Kebab Guy grills my dog.

If you're lucky, you'll find a Kebab Guy who also sells Sabrett hot dogs. Lucky because you're about to be treated to a hot dog full of flavor with a skin that crisps just right under fire.

Kebab Guy is waiting for your order. I'm guessing that since he's Kebab Guy, he'd prefer to sell you a kebab. But since you're just another Dumb American, who can't appreciate the difference between a falafel and a coquette, he might as well sell you the hot dog that's been heating in the cart's water bath.

But no, here's where you separate yourself from the charlatans. You like and can appreciate the finer points of ground lamb kebabs, you just want a grilled hot dog. You ask the Kebab Guy if he would grill your hot dog over the hot coals. He gets to use the grill he's so proud of for preparing kebabs and you get a nice, crispy grilled hot dog that's better than anything else.

Add the condiments of your choice.

Dropping Magnolia

The view from the back of the line

Meat Loaf once wrote:
Maybe I'm crazy, but it's crazy and it's true.

I'm standing in line, in the brisk chill of a New York Sunday in The Village, and I'm waiting for cupcakes.

Once upon a time, I was a jet-setting, thrill seeking, swashbuckling, Dragon Slayer - and now I'm out in the cold with hundreds of women enamored with the Sex In The City lifestyle. Somehow today, I've found myself waiting in line outside of the fabled Magnolia Bakery.

And I don't even like Magnolia's cupcakes...

Not to rain on anyone's parade but Magnolia's cupcakes are dry. Dry, dry, dry. Like you need milk, kinda dry. Dry and sweet. Super sweet. Like Krispy Kreme doughnuts are bland kind of sweet. All sweet and very dry. Not fun.

But since we were unable to pickup some samples of Magnolia last night, I thought I would hop down to the Village to pick some up.


Three Japanese Girls for BrowserMetrics to ogle.

The couple of times I had been to Magnolia in the past, it was a simple job of jump out of the cab, pop in, grab a few and pop back out. I might have spent a combined total of ten minutes getting cupcakes at Magnolia. Not this time.

This time there was a line. I had heard the stories of immense lines at Magnolia but never had experienced them. I had been lucky. This time, I would face the beast myself.

As I recall, I was the only male in line. Imagine: hundreds of women from around the world descending on this very spot, hungry for something sweet and delicious. Six months ago, I would have found myself in a TRE (Target Rich Environment)- but today, they're just in my way.

Oh, the times, they are a-changing...

I looked at the clock on my iPhone: 5:15pm. Good thing Avenue Q doesn't start until 7:30pm, I've got time. I can wait. I can wait until about 6:45pm before I start to jeopardize my ability to make it to the theatre on-time.

There's lots of chatter around me. In various languages. The odd one is the lady behind me who's speaking German, then Dutch, then back to English. She's rambling on about something or other in very animated phrases. I can't understand the languages but she's punctuating whatever she's saying in English. I'm guessing she's quite agitated.

The Japanese girls in front of me are here probably because Carrie and Miranda did something here. I can't understand them either but they giggle every 77 seconds. A group of friends behind the German-speaking lady at talking loudly about how their names are spelled: Kathryn with a "Y", while the other girl is Katherine, with an "I". Their friend is commenting just how perfect it will be to have Magnolia cupcakes while watching the Oscars tonight.

After forty-five minutes, I make it to the portal where a friendly staffer is doing traffic control. The bakery itself is very small and the crew of seemingly hundreds is busy churning out cupcakes and frosting at high-speed. They have to, otherwise hordes of angry and screaming women will descend upon them - and that is downright frightening.


A pair of cupcakes: chocolate and vanilla with the appropriate green icing. They didn't have gray icing. I asked.

He's letting only a few people in at a time, which I don't mind when I consider the chaos that would ensue if someone wasn't monitoring the door. I probably wouldn't make it out alive.

Finally, it's my turn. The cupcakes are placed right at the front window for all to see. A continuous stream of cupcake trays refills the larder almost as fast as the gaggle of women can deplete the supply. I take a two box that has cute little cutouts to hold the individual cupcakes. Clever.

There's an assortment of both chocolate and vanilla cupcake, but there's only one vanilla cupcake with green frosting left. As the girl in front of me ponders her selections, I cannot afford to allow her to choose the last green frosted cupcake. Bitch better not take my cupcake. Screw pleasantries, I'm grabbing that green frosted cupcake before she does and swoop my paws in for the kill.

Hmmm, green cupcake. A matching gray frosted cupcake would be perfection. I ask the workers if they have gray frosted cupcakes. They look at me as though I'm the weirdo guy in a sea of women. I feel as though the entire bakery, its workers and female patrons have stopped to stare at the freak asking dumb questions. Am I such a pervert to ask about gray frosted cupcakes?

Okay, okay, no gray cupcakes. I grab a chocolate cupcake. Crisis averted.

I look at my iPhone again: 6:13pm. I've been on this quest for about an hour. Luckily, I've got time to get uptown to the theatre. Problem is, I now have to care for this little box of cupcakes. As I walk across Bleeker towards Sixth Avenue, I feel victorious. I've achieved my quest for the day and will now take this box uptown to deliver it to my maiden.

Through traffic, pedestrians and into the subway I go. An NYC Cop eyes me suspiciously on the platform. A homeless guy eyes the box hungrily on the train and I must balance the box as I bound up the stairs back onto the street near Times Square. All along the way, I must remember not to put the box down and leave it somewhere by mistake. Somehow, I feel stressed about carrying this damn little box - I've gone through a lot of trouble to get it here.

Finally, she's here and I hand her the box. This little box that has traveled so far. I'm holding it for her, balancing it on top of another box when I stumble a bit and the little box from Magnolia tumbles through the air. And lands upside down. Crap.

I can't look. I know it's carnage. It could have tumbled and landed right side up, mitigating damage to the chocolate and green cupcakes inside. Instead, it's upside down where it landed with a thud. Carnage. I imagine the cupcakes splattered on the inside of the box top. I can't look. I've gone too far to look now. Oh, poor cupcakes how I have failed you!

As we sit in the darkness watching Avenue Q, Princeton sings:

"Moving boxes and others,
He's gonna find his purpose,

And I wonder what my purpose is.

I'm gonna find my purpose

Guess I know what's not my purpose...



Magnolia Bakery
401 Bleeker Street
New York, New York 10014
212-462-2572
www.magnoliabakery.com

Ipanema

Bife a Portuguesa

Years ago, Polly turned me on to this little joint in Manhattan's "Little Brazil" called Ipanema. While working in New York during the dot com boom, she used to be a regular here and introduced all of us to the delights of Brazilian cuisine that isn't delivered non-stop on large swords.

Since that time, Ipanema has become one of my "go to" places when in New York. I don't always get here when in the city, but I always want to here because it's just that good.


Vatapa

After a long day both on the road and at CoffeeFest, our crew was a bit hungry for something tasty, and since I don't know the finer diners of Jersey, into the city we go!

Like most cities in America, trying to walk into a good restaurant on a Friday night at 8pm is foolhardy. No reservations? Table for five? You're gonna wait - no matter how far you've trekked to eat there. But the food is that good.


Mariscada

After an hour (or two) at the bar, drinking a steady stream of caipirinhas, we were nicely toasted. The caipirinhas were excellent. Just the proper balance of sweet and salty and everything nice. If they weren't so pricey, you'd want to chug-a-lug them down with reckless abandon.

Accompanying our caipirinhas was a stream of chicken coquettes, grilled beef and fried chicken. Add a side of the extremely firey hot sauce and we're quite okay with the long wait for a table. And good thing too because not too long after we sat at the bar, with our name in the queue, they started turning people away. The food is that good.


Amaretto Cake

The problem with ordering multiple plates at the bar, along with non-stop caipirinhas, is that by the time you get to your table, you're kinda full. The flavors of Ipanema are plentiful and it's a complete shame not to share the dishes. At first, our server wanted to charge us five bucks per person to share plates - at a total cost of twenty-five dollars. I protested and told him that we just spent the past hour or so at the bar, spent $140 and that I wasn't going to pay the surcharge to share plates.

Even though the food is that good, had our server insisted, I would have walked.

But the food is that good.


Leche Flan

I ordered what I consider to be Ipanema's "Triumvirate" of dishes: Al's favorite Bife a Portuguesa - strip steak grilled and served in a garlic sauce topped with fried egg, Vatapa - a creamy concoction that's my personal favorite chock full of lobster and seafood, and Mariscada - a green sauce based seafood stew of sorts, complete with half a lobster in its shell.

Add on a bunch of rice, black beans and a plate of their delicious potatoes and it's Brazilian Heaven sans Carnivale.

Truth is, while the steak is delicious and the Mariscada fantastic, I could eat Vatapa all day long.


Dulce de Leche

For dessert, we ordered another trio of offerings: the amaretto cake (not bad), the leche flan (pretty decent but with lots of air bubbles), and the dulce de leche with some sort of cheese. The dulce de leche was amazing - sweet with just a hint of saltiness from the cheese.

Rebecca decided to give their espresso a try. No need to comment on restaurant espresso - especially since I've included a picture.


Espresso

After a while, the staff came by to take our money and "encourage" us to depart. A kinda nice, if odd, way to tell us to get the hell out. Whatever the case, I still love Ipanema because the food is that good.


Hanging with Jess, Troy, Lindsay and Rebecca

Ipanema Restaurant
13 West 46th Street
New York, New York 10036
212-730-5848
www.ipanemanyc.com

Zoom, Zoom, Zoom

Hurtling myself towards New York City at illegal speeds.

The little Sonoma is back on the road at high speed as I navigate my way back towards CoffeeFest New York. Of course, the title is a bit more than misleading since "CoffeeFest New York" is being held in Secaucus, New Jersey. Perhaps they're a bit geographically challenged at CoffeeFest or perhaps "New York" sounds better than the Sopranos-esque "New Jersey."

Whatever the case, I'm heading for yet another coffee trade show where friends and others will gather for a few days to talk coffee and compete against each other. It's also another regional barista competition that is sure to bore the crap out of even more bystanders who cannot decide if the competitions are marginally more exciting than watching grass grow.

With the iPod cranking out favored tunes, like "Temple of Love" by The Sisters of Mercy, and the Sonoma set to "cruise," I'm reminded of a trip very similar to this one back in 1987.

Back then we used to make regular trips to The Big Apple for nights of hanging out, looking cool, acting pretentious and generally wasting our time (but who can blame you when you're decked out in Commes des Garcons?). On the particular night in question, we were making another evening run to Manhattan's Tunnel nightclub in my trusty 1986 Volkswagen GTI.

Because of the expected night on the town, with Mike Eringis riding shotgun, I was pretending to sleep in the back seat while Joe Toro piloted the GTI at high speed. I say "pretending" because I was lying there scared as the little GTI shimmied and shook in ways that I wasn't used to. To say that we were pushing 100mph would not be an exaggeration, but I can't confirm those speeds because I was too busy keeping my eyes closed envisioning what it would be like to crash at 100 mph.

Would we be flung from the car as it cavorted, rolled and tumbled along the New Jersey Turnpike? What would it be like? How would it sound? Would we hit the jersey wall? Or shriek across the grassy strip off the side before tearing through the chain link fence and bouncing off some trees?

Already tonight I'm in an irritable mood because I did what I always seem to do: update my electronics right when I'm about to leave on a trip.

I don't know what I was thinking when I clicked on "yes" to allow iTunes to update the software on my iPhone. It was perfect. All my contacts were intact. All the messages in place, notes preserved and text messages archived. iTunes even kept two backups of my iPhone data on the hard disk. But I had to click on that damn button and the thing crashed my iPhone.

Two hours later, after multiple restarts and uploads, the iPhone was back and running but all data had been lost. iTunes even seemed to dump and destroy the two backups of the data. WTF?

Luckily, I was able to restore the contact info off another application and I left town two hours late with some semblance of data on the iPhone. Screw you, Apple Computer.

As I drove up the Turnpike in a disagreeable mood, my mind wandered back to that trip in 1987. What if I crashed tonight, twenty some years later? Would it be any different? The commute to New York City takes about three hours. Tonight I would do it in about the same time. But that night in 1987, we made the same trip in two hours and fifteen minutes. I don't know how fast we were going because I was too scared to watch, but it was definitely faster than the 75mph I was doing tonight.

The Last Hang

Lots of friends gather for a final tribute to John.

It is the end of an era, but also a time for new beginnings with old friends.

The Birthday Buffet

The Steam Table - right about now, those french fries are tempting me.

My nieces are back in town and since they're birthdays are so close to each other I told them I would take them out to lunch - wherever they wanted to go. Woodberry's brunch would be nice, but anything that appeals to 10 and 12 year old girls works for me as well. Applebees, Cheesecake, Five Guys, CPK - wherever, even if I wouldn't choose eating their myself.

One wants to go to IHOP, the other doesn't. They're not sure at first then settle on IHOP. We'll go after the 12:15pm mass.


Why I'm not a fan of buffet anything.

While they're at mass, I'm finishing some work on the computer (yes, I'm "The Bad Catholic") until my aunt calls (they took the girls to mass) to let me know they're finished and that they've now decided to go to the local Chinese buffet.

Something smells fishy to me, so I query my aunt: "Do they really want to go there or did you coerce them into the buffet?"


My perfect way of enjoying a "cone" of soft serve ice cream.

I always wonder about our fascination with buffets. They're usually not very well executed and most of the items are uninspired or downright sad. Hard, dried bits of char siu. Dried and shriveled dim sum. Sodium filled wonton soup with specks of pork in the wontons. But people still flock to them.

For eight bucks, you can eat all that you want. I don't want to eat all that I want. Hell, I shouldn't eat all that I want. Especially when the food is quite a bit short of delicious.


...in bed.

But it's their birthdays and I'm not here to bitch and moan. As long as they're enjoying themselves and having fun - that's all that matters. I can eat something tasty to my palate any day.

Eating After Goulash

Isaiah and Christine flash their street creds: "WK Style."

We're back at Woodberry Kitchen (as though we ever leave) because Chuck is in town from Vegas and wants to eat. As with any Saturday night, the place is jammed packed but Lucy has been kind enough to find us a spot to squeeze into. Of course, as soon as she sees how many friends we're trying to "squeeze" I receive a gentle and friendly admonishment to "spread out" a little.


Pan seared scallops

There's a madness of food and drink. Cocktails, bottles of wine, multiple plates but I can't eat anything. I'm still reeking of smoke from standing between the grill and the goulash fire earlier tonight. Plus a steady regimen of gnoshing on the aforementioned food, several drinks, miscellaneous cuts of bison and sausage, and a big bowl of tasty goulash and I don't know why I even ordered the chorizo flatbread - because I can't eat another bite.


Chuck of Westminister and Chuck of Las Vegas.

Luckily, everyone else is hungry and ready to go to town on the food and my flatbread. There's some sort of polenta dish that's too delicious for words but I could only taste a little spoonful. A lovely latte art capped cappuccino from Jade. More bottles of wine and the promise for more partying into the wee hours of the night.

And with the events of the last couple of days, I'm happy to be amongst friends doing things that dull my senses.


Chorizo flatbread


Ready for a night on the town. Separately.

It Was A Saturday Hang

Nelson removes the "closed" sign - finally.

In the three years that I knew John Gutierrez, his name was synonymous with two things: 1) Roya and 2) parties. And while sadness surrounds death, what better way to celebrate his life than with a party on the Guti Scale? Live music, food, lots of meat, lots of drink, a big fire and another mother pot of goulash for everyone to enjoy.


Baltimore Fire Department arrives to oversee the fire pit.

I find events like these to be rather difficult, so rather than just hanging out, I'd rather do something to occupy my time and mind. Before long, the raging fire of the goulash was to my back and the inferno of the grill was in front of me, with Spike and Nelson on the other side handling some of the meat. Bison skirt, Bison tri-tip, and both fresh pork and kielbasa sausage from Ostrowski's.

The fire was intense and before long I had stripped down to my t-shirt in the 40 degree weather. Not too long after that, with the heat of the fires threatening to scorch my skin, I donned my heavy canvas Carrhart jacket to sheild my skin from blistering. Then with food on the table, drinks in their hands and a hot bowl of goulash nearby, things were almost right in the world, but not quite.


Making the goulash.


A bowl of goulash in honor of John.

"It Was A Good Hang"

John with Roya, his sweetheart of 30 years at Clipper Mill by the tree he planted in memory of his mother, Sept. 2007

A dear friend passed away tonight after a seven month battle with cancer.

John, you will be sorely missed.

ph: Barista Examinations

Jeremy demonstrating a smooth and controlled command of our craft.

Things are getting a bit tense around here as it's Exam Week at project hampden. After nearly four months of training, it's time to see who's got the chops to remain and who's going to fall to the wayside.

But quite frankly - if, after four months, you don't have it, you don't deserve to be here.

The criteria for the examination is simple: know the menu and demonstrate how to prepare any and every menu item - along with knowing and demonstrating how to prep all the mise and syrups. Essentially, you need to demonstrate to me what the girls in Towson do on a day-in, day-out basis.


A small sample of the drinks prepared.

On the official scoresheets for the individual examinees, we're looking at whether or not they accomplished certain tasks in the execution of each item. How long did they take to prepare and serve that item? Did they follow established procedures? Did they adhere to correct brew times and methodology? Can they defend their choices in execution? Do they know how to prepare a chocolate ganache? Or vanilla latte? How well can they cope with pressure? Can they make changes to an order "on the fly"?

But, most importantly: do I think they can handle the standards I have set for them? Do I think they have the chops? Can I see them representing us? Do I believe that they can be amongst the top baristas in America? Even if they make mistakes, do I believe in them and their ability to improve? In the end, it is my belief in these people and my decision alone.

All along, I have believed in this group of people and they have stepped up to prove themselves. However, that is not to say that all of them made it. Some of them decided to decline the opportunity to test in the examination and dropped out of the program. A shame, but not surprising.

Note to Baltimore coffee shop owners: there's a couple of people out there with a solid base of coffee knowledge and experience that might fit better into your program than with ours. If they come your way, you'd be stupid not to hire them.

Meanwhile, it's back to the examinations which conclude on Monday, March 1st.

ph: Thinking Oysters

This shell is on fire.

Last Friday I conducted a workshop on signature drinks and their development. One thing that I noted to the class is that there truly are no "original" ideas. Everything comes from inspiration or evolution. Without a base of knowledge to work from, it becomes very difficult, if not impossible, to springboard something different.

And while a number of the signature drinks I have done for competitions has garnered attention and a "wow" factor, none of them are truly original. All of them were springboarded off the work of someone else, then forged with the collaboration of friends and experts.

Take the Coffee and a Cigarette drink I used for the 2006 United States Barista Championship. Lots of people were "wowed" by that one, but it's nothing original. In fact, it's something that I derived after reading about lots of Thomas Keller and using one of his recipes as a jumping off point.

Even last years "Lobspro" was inspired and derived from elsewhere: Eric Ripert of Le Bernardin. Without seeing his "Lobster Cappuccino" it wouldn't have occurred to me to pair coffee with lobster (even though his execution did not actually incorporate coffee into the dish).


A mold prototype.

Back in September, I attended a demonstration by Spanish wizard Paco Torreblanca and was absolutely blown away by his method of making chocolate oysters. Simply create a mold from a real oyster shell, mold chocolate and then you're done. Amazing.

Since that time, I've been nurturing the oysters in the back of my mind and collecting nice shell examples that might work for what I have in mind. Today I started to figure out how to mold those shells for chocolate work.

It's not too difficult but I immediately see the need for welding gloves to protect my soft, supple hands. After a couple of tries, I think we're getting closer to the right technique.

And while you won't be able to check this "signature" drink out at the USBC (since I'm not planning on competing), you will be able to visit us at the new Spro Hampden and order it off of our menu in the spring.

Alizee

Jess and Anisha - two of my favorite people.

Massive.

That's really the only way to describe our meal at Alizee.

For months now, Anisha and I have been eating our way around the region and while we've had some nice meals, tonight's dinner at Alizee was easily and by far the best we've had in a long time.

Admittedly, it helps to know the chef, and between the two of us, we seem to know just about everyone working at Alizee, which makes for a fun and unique experience.


The Charcuterie Plate.

Now, Friday night at about 8pm is one of the worst times to arrive at any restaurant without reservation. But we arrive with the hope that the graces of our friends will accommodate us, and with the knowledge that should they be so busy we're still happy to wait or sit at the bar. Afterall, the bar can be a dependable friend.

When we arrive, the place is hopping. It's jammed and the dining room is full. These guys are running at full-bore. Hmmm, perhaps we'll be sitting at the bar - at least the bar tables look comfortable.

A little while later, we're led to a corner table with easy access to the kitchen. It's busy. The kitchen is in the weeds and it's going to take a little while for them to get to us. No problem, our server Jennifer is nice, we have cocktails in hand and it's easy living.


Wagyu Carpaccio with lobster, truffles, frisee and blood oranges.

In time Christian comes out to inquire what we are thinking about having, perhaps it's best for the chef to decide? He agrees and returns to the kitchen and the procession begins.

Allowing the chef to decide what you will eat is a favored tactic of mine. The chef knows what's really kicking and it usually leads to sampling dishes that I might never choose on my own. It opens one for adventure. And Christian never disappoints.


Seared Diver Scallops with soft polenta and pork cheek.

Things start off with a quiet rumble on the charcuterie plate. There's some house made forcemeats and picked cucumbers and onions with grainy mustard and bread crisps. Nice.

The next course picks up speed with Wagyu beef carpaccio, lobster, black truffles and blood oranges. Man, hold your horses, because this stuff is good. After the charcuterie plate, we're rumbling off-road with an array of flavors that surprisingly come togther. What I really want is a spoon to readily scoop each piece together and chew at once to bring the earthiness of the black truffle with the buttery creaminess of lobster, the texture of the Wagyu and the acid of the blood orange. It's a symphony in harmony. Beautiful.


Sous Vide Leg of Rabbit in cocoa and orange with pistachio and rabbit crepinette, grilled prunes and sauce salmis.

From there we move on to two large sea scallops pan seared with soft polenta and a chunk of pork cheek. Pork and scallops? Never thought of that before but the textures are so complementary. I'm crazy for scallops and really can't have enough.

Next up is the leg of rabbit sous vide with cocoa and orange. At first, I thought the rabbit was a bit dry. But once you mixed the rabbit with some of the sauce and a slice of the prune - woah: amazing. Where once I was hesitant, suddenly I'm eating Bugs Bunny with greedy abandon.


Frisee aux Lardons - frisee, fried oyster, bacon, fingerling potato, 90 minute egg, sheep's milk cheese, violet mustard dressing.

Earlier this week, Anisha and I went out for dinner at Petit Louis where we ordered their typically well-executed frisee salad. Sadly, the night we went the kitchen was off their game and our frisee came out a soupy mess. Normally, I love frisee salads but after our experience this week at Petit Louis, I was a bit hesitant to try again when I saw the frisee on the Alizee menu.

But like I said before, allowing the chef to guide you takes you to places where you might not have gone otherwise. I probably would not have ordered the rabbit and I was more than reluctant to go with the frisee, but when it arrived next, I knew that we were in for something much better than the aforementioned soupy mess.

Topped with a fried oyster and fingerling potatoes, this frisee was a winner. Perfectly dressed, delicately balanced. Stellar.


Venison with foie gras and graham cracker spaetzle.

As you can see from the images, these are not "tasting menu" portions. These are not the petit sized servings you receive while eating 12 to 23 course tasting menus. And while they're not entree-sized portions, they're something in-between. After five courses, we're starting to feel the stress of being fed by the chef.

When the venison chops arrive on our table, I'm desperate for mercy.

It's a perfect medium-rare without the intense gaminess that I usually associate with deer meat. Seared on the outside, red on the inside and topped with a foie gras sheet. Delicious. Wait until the foie gras melts a bit and coats the meat? Brilliant. Served with a side of graham cracker spaetzle that I know Anisha is enjoying because she's been asking for it all week.

Sadly, I can't continue. I can't finish the venison. I'm beaten. The meal has been beautiful and I've eaten all I can consume. Let us have a few minutes respite. Please.


Beignets with lavender honey sorbet, pistachio gelato, cherry sorbet and cardamom gelato.

After an appropriate amount of time to digest (slightly) and recuperate (just barely), the dessert course arrives. Rows of beignets flanked with sorbets and gelatos, oh my! The beignets are just right. Coated in sugared cinnamon and not too sweet. They're a nice compliment to the selection of sorbets, my favorite being the cherry sorbet and Anisha's being the pistachio. Jess prefers the honey lavender.

With the night ending and the dining room empty save for our table and another couple making out occasionally in the opposite corner (ideas, ideas...), Christian has a bit of time to come out and hang. But it's not too long before I wrangle a tour of the kitchens.


Christian comes out to say hello.

Typically, restaurant kitchens (except for per se) are small affairs. I forgot that Alizee is in a hotel and also handles three meal services, room service and banquets as well. The kitchen is traditional American in design but is massive with multiple levels and multiple storage/work areas. How nice it would be to have a facility such as this.

Soon enough, we bid our friends adieu and we're back onto the cold streets of Baltimore. Jess is off to destinations unknown and it's time to go home.


Alizee Boutique Bistro and Wine Bar
at the Inn at the Colonnade
4 West University Parkway
Baltimore, MD 21218
443-449-6200
www.alizeebaltimore.com

Umi Sake

Spicy Tuna Hand Roll.

After an evening drinking the remaining wines leftover from the tasting, the four of us head over to local Asian eatery Umi Sake. I knew Lisa from many years ago when she used to own Johnny Sushi in the shopping center behind Jays Shave Ice. Her food is always good and tasty. Nothing transcendental and not hallmarks of traditional Japanese, but the food is always good, solid and well-prepared.

In other words, it's a good bet that you're going to enjoy the meal and the service - and for a local restaurant, add on top of that some good prices and you've got a winner. And with Chicken Katsu being offered for under ten bucks (when other places are just under fifteen), it's a helluva deal.


Austin and the Spicy Seafood Noodle Soup, Korean style.

The nice thing about eating with friends that are into food or in the restaurant business is that they enjoy a variety of flavors and textures in their meals, which usually means more of a Family Style eating experience than everyone ordering their own meals. I much prefer this approach and our intrepid crew did not disappoint.

What else is there to say? Service was quick and attentive. Our drinks were flowing and kept topped up the entire night. The food came quickly and was served nice and hot on this cold night. I've been here three times so far and it's always been good and reliable.

I'll say no more and let the images do the talking.


Beef Yaki Bop.


Singapore Rice Noodles.


Crispy Spicy Tuna Roll.


Chicken Katsu.

Umi Sake
9726 York Road
Cockeysville, MD 21030
410-667-6585
www.umisake.com

Swirling It

The lineup.

It's Friday night, I'm tired, I'm sleepy, I'm exhausted, but I really don't want to go home and go to bed. Luckily, a friend calls me because she wants to get together. And what better way to spend a Friday night than tasting wines?

On most Fridays, Austin and James set up a tasting at their shop in Timonium. I try to go on a regular basis but lately I've been in Hampden and haven't made it up to their shop in time. This week, it's a flight of some very exciting French wines:

2007 Domaine de la Collonge Pouilly-Fuisse
2008 Domaine de Aubuisieres Vouvray
2006 Chateau de Serame Corbieres
2007 Cuvee du Vatican Cote du Rhone Villages

Wow. I don't think I've ever attending a tasting that was completely a winner. Usually, there's one or two (sometimes more) wines that I don't quite fancy, but this time all of them were stellar. Maybe I'll buy one, sometimes two, but when you're faced with an entire field of wines you'd like to own, it becomes that much more difficult.


A sample of banana rum from St. Martin.

Later, I spy a sample bottle of this banana rum from St. Martin. Someone is trying to import them into the United States and I certainly hope they do. The rum is thick, rich, sweet and complex. Delicious. I could sip it all night long and suddenly, ideas of jetting down to St. Martin to pick up a case (or four) start popping into my head. A weekend in St. Martin to play on the beaches and get silly over bottles of rum? My friend is game. Hmmm...