The Rest of the New England Trip

Like so many summers over the last 20 years, I spent quite a bit of time in New England this summer.  This summer we split time between Narragansett, Rhode Island, Cape Cod and New Haven, Connecticut.  Hopefully you have noticed that my trip stirred quite a few reflections on food.  Traveling ‘home’ tends to make one reflective and hungry.  Traveling also means eating out.  I would be remiss then if I didn’t write up a little bit about where we ate.  Obviously, Frank Pepe’s in New Haven inspired a full essay – great pizza does that to me.  Here’s the rest of the trip.

Aunt Carrie's in Narragansett – Aunt Carrie’s occupies two corners of a busy intersection, physically manifesting all that is wonderful about New England food – ice cream on one corner and (mostly fried) seafood walk-up on the other.  I confess now that we didn’t sample the ice cream, but ate a great dinner.  In typical New England fashion, there’s a busy counter backed by a yellowed, plastic menu board and a few paper-taped additions.  Teens flutter about behind the counter and throughout the kitchen turning massive amounts of food over to hoards of customers.  The atmosphere is simple fish shack.  So how’s the food?  First, you must know that Aunt Carrie’s features two lobster rolls, one warm and simply buttered and the other cold with just a little dressing and seasoning.  And of course, both are served in flat bottom hot dogs buns unique to New England.  Both were excellent and filling.  The scallop roll was filled with lightly battered fried bay scallops.  Chowder was available in three styles, white, clear and red.  White is traditional from Massachusetts northward.  Clear is seen in southern New England, and red is sometimes called Manhattan clam chowder for its home.  At Aunt Carrie’s we stuck to our familiar white chowder and it was light, flavorful and filled with chewy bits on every bite.  The fried clams were excellent, with fleshy, squishy bellies.  A local specialty, stuffies were simply small, stuffed clams – you’ve seen something like them in the freezer section of the grocery store – but these were great.  Final verdict – if you’re looking for quality, traditional, straightforward seafood in a New England fashion, Aunt Carrie’s will fit the bill 

Champlin's  - Like Aunt Carrie’s, Champlin’s is both an ice cream place and a seafood shack.  Begun generations ago as a very small fish shack, it has grown to incorporate many additions and an extra floor.  Ice cream and fish market downstairs, walk-up counter and dining room upstairs.  Situated on the working harbor of Galilee, this is an ideal spot for an evening of seafood, ice cream, a walk on the beach and restful celebration of a sunset while the ferries and fishermen come home.   If there’s a trademark to Champlin’s food, I think it would be cornmeal.  All the fried seafood had a touch of cornmeal and the fish and chips – cornmeal, not beer batter.  As a fish and chips fanatic, I think that’s important to note.  However, Champlin’s also uses local flounder for their fish and chips, to which I must say, “Amen” for being local.  Their lobster salad roll was finely chopped and seasoned, easy for eating as there were no giant chunks.  The seafood platter was covered in enough fried seafood to feed a family and featured lots of clam strips, and just a few clams with full bellies.  The clam cakes were dense, filling and delicious.   These are essentially a dense hush puppy with chunks of clam. Champlin’s clear chowder was excellent and well worth starting with.  Champlin’s also serves a local classic, Narragansett lager.  When I was a kid I remember relatives saying that this was a beer that tasted like its name – and that wasn’t a compliment.  However, its reintroduction to the kitschy, hipster beer world has gone well and Narragansett hit the spot with the seafood on a hot day.  Finally, the best of the meals was a baked flounder that was light, flavorful and perfectly cooked.  Downstairs the ice cream was also delicious, though served just a little too soft.  I definitely prefer my ice cream to be served as cold as possible and hard.  Champlin’s melted just a little too fast.  That said, coconut, banana, chocolate and grasshopper pie were all great ice creams.

Just a hundred yards away from Champlin’s is another delicious seafood spot, George's.  This place is just a little more upscale; they feature a full bar and table service.  The first thing I noticed here were the reasonable portions.  Sure, there were fries with many dishes but not a mountain of them.  My fish and chips, flounder in a beer batter, was superb.  The swordfish was thinner than I have seen it cut in most places, but perfectly cooked.  The kids loved their lobster rolls, even as they were falling asleep next to them.  The sautéed calamari with peppers, a local specialty, was excellent – in fact my mouth is watering as I write this.  And the clam cakes – just as dense and filling as everyone else’s in the area. Service was efficient and great with the kids.  If we return on vacation to Narragansett I know George’s will be a stop.   

We took a drive one night a few miles north along the water to Brickley's Ice Cream.  A large parking lot gave an indication to its popularity.  What isn’t noticed at first is the much larger strip mall lot next door that also fills.  This place draws a crowd, and it is well-deserved.  But do not let a long line keep you from it.  They move fast.  The ice cream was served very cold and hard in large, truly New England-size servings.  Flavors – wicked awesome!  The banana was all natural and not overpowering.  The cookie dough was great, but the show stopper was the pumpkin.  Sounds a bit strange maybe?  But it was amazing – like pumpkin pie, but cold, creamy and in a waffle cone.  Wicked!            

We spent some time out on Cape Cod for a family wedding.  One morning we headed all the way to the end to see Provincetown and stopped at The Wicked Oyster in Wellfleet for breakfast.  We managed to nail our timing and were able to walk right to a table on a Saturday morning.  But we got lucky.  Signs around the place indicate to me that they are used to people parking some distance away.  And there sure is a reason.  Breakfast was delicious.  Housed in an old house with parts dating back to 1750, the floor itself is a work of art.  But the food… pancakes as big as your head, light and fluffy.  Blueberry pancakes that still wander through my dreams.  Omelets that were just the right size, perfectly cooked and full of flavor and toppings.  Home fries really were just like you would make at home in an iron skillet.  I really didn’t want to leave.  You can eat all day here, and the menus for lunch and dinner look just as incredible.  This is on my return list. 

The final place to give a shout-out to is in New Haven.  Just up the street from Frank Pepe’s is a great place for a post-pizza dessert.  Libby's on Wooster Street is a dessert cornucopia, heaven for the sweet tooth, nirvana of caloric indulgence.  Pastries, cakes, cookies, confections of all kinds – it’s an Italian Willy Wonka.  Gelato, Italian Icees, coffee, cannolis.  And wonderful service – always kind and patient while orders seem to be added to as we walk down the counter.  You might go in thinking just one cookie, and before you know it you have a dozen, some pastry and an ice cream cone.  And it all tastes as great as it looks. 

Now I am hungry….wicked hungry.     

Heavenly Pizza

The foodie world is a weird one.  We can get all wound up over the sourcing of ingredients, the treatment of livestock, the legal availability of foie gras, or the terrior of a wine.  This is rarified air in an economy where more and more people would just like to eat three good meals a day.  Fortunately, foodies, myself included, can get awfully romantic about a simple pizza.  Pizza truly has become America’s egalitarian food.  It’s available virtually anywhere, as often from a locally-owned place as a national chain, and even in the best pizza places, available at affordable prices.  Seemingly, every region has its own style and traditions and elicits its own passionate support.  (Check out the variety in The Thrillist’s recent list of America’s top 33) Better yet, I must admit to hardly ever having a bad one.  Truth be told, I am pretty happy with a couple $1.25 Totino’s from the freezer section at Safeway.  Pizza taps into a foodie passion everyone has and everyone can talk about. 

But what inspires me to write about pizza or travel to eat a pizza is a particular style.  I get excited about real Neapolitan pizza.  The widely recognized, sometimes disputed history of pizza places its genesis in Naples, Italy.  The native style calls for certain elements, now outlined by legal certification and European Union protection (Associazione Verace Pizza Napoletana).  To me the key elements are an excellent dough stretched extremely thin by hand only, topped with a simple, fresh tomato sauce, quality toppings, and cooked very quickly at around 900 degrees.  There’s more to it, but this is the essence.  A great Neapolitan pizza will never be perfectly round, will always be very thin, and will virtually always have charred bubbles of crust. 

Unfortunately, I have never been to Naples.  My favorite of the style so far is Assisi, Italy’s Monaci.  In the US this style of pizza has been spreading across the country.  While there are many new places making great Neapolitan pizza, I think we need to begin with the old regime.  In New Haven, Connecticut a Neapolitan pizza has been served since 1925 at Frank Pepe's, and it is wonderful.

Visit Wooster Street, New Haven’s Little Italy and at the halfway point you will likely see a long line next to a parking lot.  You’re at Pepe’s.  At the back of the parking lot (talk to Joey about getting a spot, but odds are slim) you will see a small Pepe’s.  This building houses the original coal-fired pizza oven, built in 1925, and a beautifully simple restaurant.  This oven served as the model for all following Pepe’s locations – they even took a mold of the door so they could forge exact replicas.  Next door you will find the newer Pepe’s (fear not, it was opened by Frank in 1936) and a slightly nicer dining room.  Both places feature the same menu, same ingredients, and same ovens.  But we aren’t here to look around – we are here for pizza.

The menu is simple and seems to be unchanged in years as there are no faddish additions or twists.  There are 16 ingredients other than tomato sauce and basil and just a few classic combinations including their legendary hallmark, the white clam pizza.  You can get a salad too and wine, beer, and sodas.  But don’t expect a wide selection – pizza takes center stage.  And what a pizza!

On my most recent visit our server, Nancy, got my group of seven set up nicely in the front window of the “newer” location.  Getting there just after 5pm allowed us to sit down immediately.  Be warned, after 6 on a weekday or most anytime on the weekend the line can be quite long.  With a simple, limited menu it was easy to get our order in quickly – a bottle of Chianti, a pitcher of Genesee, a bottle of Foxon Park Cream Soda, and three pizzas – a large with sausage and pepperoni, a medium fresh tomato with anchovies and a small white clam.  In moments Nancy returned with drinks and only about 15 minutes later with pizzas.  The three rectangular trays covered our table - irregular, hand-made, bubbled and charred and smelling like I hope heaven smells.  I had to stop for pictures of these works of culinary art.

 While they looked gorgeous, they tasted truly heavenly.  The tomato sauce was light and fresh, not sweetened or pasty in any way – simple, straight, unadorned, fresh tomato sauce.  The crust, the key to any great pizza, was thin in the middle, but firm enough to withstand being picked up without too much slouching.  The charred and bubbled bits tasted so good, and the kids gave most of theirs to me!  The toppings… well, the sausage and pepperoni looked delicious, but was consumed before I tasted any.  No complaints, though.  The clam pizza, while unlike any pizza I have ever had, was worth the trip alone.  It tasted like the most perfect combination of pizza crust and the sea.  The clams were fresh, not canned, and their juices blended with the crust like nothing I can really describe.  The fresh tomato pizza with anchovies was wonderfully balanced – the anchovies were obviously present but not overpowering.  The tomatoes popped with summer flavor.  Nancy dropped by a few times to make sure all was well - and was it!  While this looked like a huge quantity of food for seven, we had little problem devouring it all, even if I was responsible for more than my share.  These are the things we do in the name of research.

I enjoy pizza too much to name an absolute favorite other than Monaci, and let’s face it, it’s hard to compete with an ancient stone oven and a hilltop view of Umbria.  State-side, lots of places are doing great Neapolitan-style pizza, from Brooklyn’s Grimaldi’s to St. Louis’ The Good Pie to San Francisco’s A16.  Frank Pepe’s history and simplicity gives it a unique place in American pizza history.  For any pizza aficionado, Pepe’s is a must – it’s like visiting Fenway Park for a baseball fan or seeing a show on Broadway for musical fans.  Get to Pepe’s for a taste of pizza history.     

Eating Out of Place

For some odd reason I vividly remember learning the word anachronism in junior high.  I have no idea why we needed to know that word, but must admit that I have found it useful from time to time.  Driving through northeastern Ohio at 70 miles an hour, looking out the window, and seeing a horse and buggy traveling through an Amish community certainly brings the word to mind.  Getting excited to watch a movie like Breakfast at Tiffany’s or even Dirty Dancing feels rather anachronistic. The current trend in speakeasy-style bars and throwback cocktails captures the essence.  Eating out recently forced me to find a new, but similar word.  If an anachronism is something seemingly out of proper time, what is it when something is caught out of proper geography?

While visiting family in New England we needed to find an easy place to grab a lunch.  We decided that a Cracker Barrel would fit the bill.  I’ve never been a real lover of the place for anything but breakfast and have never been in one outside the Midwest and South.  In fact, I pretty much identify everything about the place with the Midwest and South.  We walked up the front patio, and like many chains, it simply felt like every other Cracker Barrel.  Then we opened the door.  Right in front was a table decked out in New England Patriots garb.  I suddenly felt completely confused.  Where was the John Deere table?  Wasn’t there a selection of Atlanta Braves or St. Louis Cardinals pajamas, shot glasses and hats?  A model of a red barn with See Rock City on the roof?   Patriots shirts, really?  This can’t be right.  Upon further inspection the rest of this Cracker Barrel looked like the others – classic candy, odd Halloween decorations, classic Coca Cola trays and flowery candle holders.  The menu even looked the same – not a lobster roll or clam dinner in sight.  The only thing on the menu I could place in New England was Vermont maple syrup.  I ate still wrapping my brain around seeing a Patriots table in a Cracker Barrel.  It felt so dramatically out of geographic place.  So what is a word for this? 

The word I needed, I later found out, is anatopism.  I got to thinking about this idea – of things being out of geographic context.  Of course I saw the intersection of food and travel.  Recently having some incredible avocadoes in Minneapolis rather than San Diego felt anatopistic.  Finding a good BBQ joint back home along Monterey Bay feels anatopistic.  I once had fried clams with bellies in a restaurant in Del Ray, Florida and was surrounded by Boston Celtics paraphernalia and other people wearing Red Sox gear sporting Bostonian accents and that sure felt like an anatopism.  Aren’t all Irish and British pubs outside the British Isles anatopisms?  American fast food places worldwide, some serving beer and wine and varieties of local foods – are they anapropisms or have they adapted to local culture? 

If we can agree that trying preserve local character, customs, and culture is important, are anatopisms threatening?  Do they threaten the local culture or just add to the diversity and curiosity of a place?  Do they bring far flung experiences to us when we can’t all afford elaborate travel?
Is pineapple on a pizza a mini-anatopism on a plate?  How about lobster in a burrito or sushi made with Maryland crab?  Are any of these things anatopisms or just evidence of globalization – or both?

What are your favorite or most disorienting anatopisms?   

Eating New England

I grew up in New England, at least until the age of 8.  Extended family for the most part remained, and for the last twenty years or so I have spent some vacation time each year with family on the New England coast.  Now in my forties with two kids, I find myself reflecting quite a bit on where certain interests and passions come from.  All it takes is a brief return to New England to realize where so much originated.  I travel the roads driving from family event to tourist site to family event trying to explain this seemingly foreign culture and landscape to the kids in the back seat.  I can’t help but think about my youth and what remains.  I am a Red Sox, Patriots, Celtics and Bruins fan, have thoroughly enjoyed the last decade or so, and feel comforted by hats and stickers everywhere.  I see housing developments hidden behind forests on the outskirts of small towns and realize I think housing developments should cut down a minimum of trees and keep the ponds, roads should have bends, yards should have stone walls and hardware stores should be small and locally-owned.  In the fall the forest should explode with color, and it ought to snow enough to plow.  On the perimeter of Boston and Providence I adjust to aggressive driving and realize that there’s nothing wrong with using the breakdown lane at rush hour or ignoring your blinker, lest you give the guy behind you a chance to cut you off.

My foodie passions and opinions also have New England roots.  Like most childhood memories, I know some of them are romanticized, but my returns to New England confirm that many of my ideas are founded in past and current reality.

I grew up in a world almost void of chains.  The closest McDonald’s to my house was at least 15 miles away and the closest with a playground was more than twice that far.  My neighborhoods were not lined with box stores and fast food restaurants.  Going out to eat called for patience and was rewarded with local creativity.  Fast food meant pizza and subs, and every town had a few places to choose from.  I suspect anyone my age or older anywhere in the country has memories of the world before chains took over.  

Aunt Carrie's in Narragansett, Rhode Island

The visuals of my childhood were filled with uniqueness – roads turned and traveled past stone walls and through small towns with various arrangements of church, town hall, library and general store.  Produce stands stood on the outskirts featuring seasonal, local foods grown on farms of human scale surrounded by forests.  The drive-thru didn’t exist and the only multi-colored lights on at night were small Narragansett and Schlitz signs in bar windows.  I didn’t see a generic suburbia until I was a teen.  This might all sound like a quaint childhood memory, but much of New England still feels this way.

As an adult foodie, I am seeing even more roots of my opinions and passions.  As a kid I didn’t know seafood was cooked any way but boiled, steamed or fried.  When I was about 11 my grandmother took me to Anthony’s Pier 4 in the Boston harbor, and I tried lobster Newberg, a dish combining of butter, cream, sherry, and cognac.  It was there that I decided that seafood should only be boiled, steamed or fried. (As an adult I can add broiled and grilled)  Fortunately, New England is still loaded with seafood shacks that do little more.  Spots with simple walk-up counters selling steamed or fried clams with bellies, broiled or fried sea and bay scallops, steamed lobsters, lobster roll, fish and chips with choices like haddock, cod, and flounder, but sadly no mushy peas, and perhaps clam chowder – these places abound.  They scream simplicity.  Some of them haven’t altered their menu in decades; the back-lit plastic has dried and become brittle and cracked.  If they’ve added anything they’ve just printed its name on a piece of paper and taped it to the menu on the wall. Salt, pepper and butter are the extent of flavoring.  Teens back from college work the counter and many of these places feature a little old lady who has worked the same window since the end of World War II.  Food is served in little paper boats with a side of tartar sauce.  What more can anyone want from seafood?  Some of my favorites are Ronnie’s in Auburn, MA, Aunt Carrie’s in Narragansett, RI, Captain Frosty’s in Dennis, MA, Bob’s in Kittery, ME, Day’s in South Yarmouth, ME and The Clam Box in Ipswich, MA.  You’ll notice that in New England Red Lobster, Captain D’s and Long John Silver’s are virtually non-existent.  There’s no need for them.  I can’t imagine New Englanders would tolerate them, much less patronize them.  Oh, how I wish someone on the California coast would open some real fish joints.  There are a few… Sam’s in Half Moon Bay, CA nails a lobster roll, and Phil’s in Moss Landing, CA is a good fish place, but every coastal town in New England has one or two spots that are just as good.  And unfortunately they don’t have whole-belly clams anymore.  My own California beachside village of Capitola would have three or four fish shacks if it were in New England.  It has none.  Business opportunity, anyone?              

Subway has made the sub sandwich ubiquitous nationwide.  I grew up knowing them as grinders.  The Jolly Giant in Worcester made the best Italian grinder – salami, capicola, mortadella, provolone, shredded lettuce, tomato, peppers, onions, olive oil, vinegar, salt, pepper and herbs.  Seemingly every grinder spot in New England has their Italian and others, including a meatball, a meatball and sausage, lobster salad, crab salad, and various melts.  You can also customize with meats, cheeses and veggies of your choice.  The bread had a slight crunch to the crust.  A special note – the meat was put on by the handful, not in layered, flat slabs and is cut paper thin.  It’s important that the meat not be flat – the bends and folds hold air and flavor and add to the texture.  Bushel ‘N Peck in Worcester still does a reasonable job.  Orbit in Holden, MA has a great meatball grinder.  I just had an Italian at Sweet Tomato’s in Chatham, MA that was ok.  Sadly, Jolly Giant has closed for good.  I am in search of an amazing, authentic and carefully crafted Italian grinder, but they do seem to be increasingly rare.  To my shock and horror, Subway is almost as common in New England as the rest of the country.  Jimmy John’s isn’t awful and their Vito (#5) satisfies a craving sometimes, but they don’t exist in New England.  Many of you can find one in your nearest college town.  Some basic sub/grinder rules learned at Jolly Giant – an Italian never has mayo or mustard.  For all grinders - the bread always crunches, the bread always is split down the middle, the meat is generously thrown on by hand, a grinder or sub is never grilled, crushed and heated unless a melt or meatball, and it’s always big enough to challenge you.  It isn’t available on whole wheat, gluten-free, seeded, sourdough, or sandwich bread.  It does not go on flat bread under any circumstances.  Follow the rules or call it something else – and that’s ok.  In fact, it is called many other things – hoagie’s, po’ boys, panini, etc. and that’s fine and they can all have their own rules and expectations.  All that said, many grinder places in New England have shunned these rules and now cater to all sorts of peccadilloes.  Whatever – just give me the authentic.            

After a wonderful day eating an Italian grinder for lunch and some fried seafood for dinner, how does a perfect New England day end?  Ice cream!  And not just any ice cream.  Step back Baskin-Robbins, Cold Stone and other pretenders.  In New England you get ice cream from your local, mom and pop shop and it is a fundamentally different product.  It truly does seem as though every coastal town has a half dozen, every inland region has a few and they all have lines, college kids waiting on you, giant servings, wonderful, classic flavors, souvenir t-shirts for the travelers and very few gimmicks.  What is a large three scoop on the West Coast is your basic, entry level in New England.  Flavors?  Black walnut, raspberry, Indian pudding, maple, ginger, frozen pudding, pistachio, and more.  Bubble gum, cake batter, peanut butter cup, or cookie dough?  They sure exist right alongside the classics.  Drive through the Cape or from Boston to Portland, Maine…how many could you count – seemingly hundreds and all with lines.  Frozen custard, frozen yogurt, soft-serve be damned….this is ice cream country!  Hard packed, rich, and served by hard-working teens with no corporate gimmicks.  This is the capital of ice cream!  I will eat more ice cream during a New England vacation than the rest of the year all together.  And when I do get ice cream at home, more often than not it’s gonna be my New England grocery store favorite…Ben & Jerry’s.  My favorite stops…Brown’s in York, ME, Pinecroft Dairy in West Boylston, MA, Brickley’s in Narragansett, RI, and The Ice Cream Smuggler in Dennis, MA.  To be fair, Marianne’s and Penny Creamery in Santa Cruz, CA fill the bill well when I am at home.

Much of the country, New England included, has fallen under the spell of the national, generic, standardized chains.  We are at risk of losing our regional characters.  Regional quirks in all corners are getting scooped up, homogenized and pushed out nationally.  Now we can get a Philly cheesesteak almost anywhere, Tex-Mex has long gone generic, and Buffalo wings are more identified with buffalos than Buffalo (WTF?).  I applaud the small shop owner who wants to bring a little bite of New England lobster roll to California or some real San Diego fish tacos to Florida.  Keep it real, but I don’t want to see it all standardized, dumbed-down and available from my car window at the lowest common denominator. Bring regional specialties to all of us, but do it authentically.  Tempt and inspire us come to New England for the full, authentic experience – and let’s preserve it so it remains available.  In fact, let’s try hard to keep all our local traditions excellent, from hushpuppies to gumbo, BBQ styles to chowder and chili styles.  Go to your local mom and pop place and preserve character and authenticity.   

What local idiosyncrasies did you fall in love with as a kid?  Do you have a favorite pizza or BBQ style?  Is there a certain way you think a taco should be prepared and served?  When you’re back home is there something you must eat to let you know you’re there?  What local culinary delights are you dismayed to see losing character and getting standardized nationwide?

Summer Foods, Summer Memories

Summer gives us some of our fondest food memories.  We remember those meals we ate at home over a summer vacation.  Our moms made us lunch, and we ate in the backyard or with friends without teacher supervision, cafeteria trays, or food from ice cream scoops.  We ate outside, maybe next to a pool or in a park.  We didn’t have to quickly eat so we could get back to class.  On the weekends neighborhoods filled with the smell of grills.  Burgers, hot dogs, baked beans and chips brought people together.  And for many, whatever we ate then holds some special place for us now.  We may have become foodies and turn our nose up at certain ingredients or combinations.  Maybe we are health conscious and have sworn off certain foods.  But when that special memory pops up we cannot help but indulge that summer treat.  I have a few summer foods I’d like to share, but be sure to share yours here too.  Mine are not complex, fancy, foodie treats - they're foods kids love and can make for themselves.

Macaroni Salad – Ubiquitous no doubt, but like Thanksgiving Day stuffing, your family’s is always best and different from everyone else’s.  My mom’s was simply elbow macaroni, Miracle Whip, a touch of ketchup, some paprika and as much chopped red onion as you can handle.  On a summer day the coolness of the mayo mixed with the crunch of the onions was sheer perfection and was absolutely the taste of summer.  It was served in the same green bowl each year and the leftovers would feed me for days it seemed.  The second day the onions would start to color the macaroni and mayo pink.  When I make it now I am the only one who eats it, and I don’t mind a bit.        

Cucumber Sandwich – This is so simple and anti-foodie it cracks me up, but I love it.  Peel a cucumber, and slice it as thin or as thick as you like.  Smear Miracle Whip on a couple slices of white bread – and Wonder Bread really is perfect.  Place as many cucumber slices as you like on the bread, top it with the other slice and eat up.  The cucumber slides around, and its juices mix with the mayo requiring you to eat quickly or make a giant mess.  Eventually the bread will become gooey if you aren’t fast enough, and it will undoubtedly stick to the roof of your mouth.  A cold root beer is the best solution.  The crispness of the cucumber, coolness of the mayo, and texture of the whole sloppy mess is exquisitely summer.  Little triangles of perfectly uniform finger sandwiches at some Brit themed lawn party be damned.

Tomato Sandwich – See above, but with tomatoes and some salt.  But eat faster; tomatoes are juicier.  And this can be dressed up a bit with a crusty, stronger bread, even a toasted sourdough.  And of course you can keep going and turn it into a BLT.  And if you must, take it a California step further and add a perfectly ripe, creamy avocado.  But now we’re treading too close to becoming high maintenance foodies.  That said, find a good tomato.  When we were kids heirloom tomatoes were simply tomatoes.  These insipid pink things at the grocery store didn’t exist yet, so it’s okay to get all ‘foodie” on this one.  Keep it simple and the kids can make their own.  The juices running down their arms as they eat will just make them giggle.

Iceberg Salad – One summer late in grade school I think I ate this a few times a week.  One head of iceberg lettuce, one can of drained red kidney beans, some bacon bits and blue cheese dressing.  Done.  Crispy crunchiness mixed with cool creaminess – that’s summer.

Orange Creamsicle – Every summer lunch needs a dessert and to me there is no finer in the summer sun than an orange creamsicle.  Yes, vacationing in New England next week, I will indulge my cravings for ice cream most evening, but the brightness of the orange and the creamy richness of the cream are unmatched in the heat of the day.  For a while Goose Island Brewing in Chicago was making an Orange Cream soda that was a liquefied version, but there’s still nothing like the real thing, sitting on cement stairs thinking about what to do next with your summer vacation.   

What are your favorite summer food memories?

Ah, Mon Cheri

Do you remember when you discovered the joy of cooking or the pleasures of a particular food?

I know my first real interest in cooking came in the summer between fourth and fifth grades.  My mom made it pretty clear; if I wanted to eat certain things I needed to cook them.  She didn’t say this in a mean or sarcastic way at all.  She was just inviting me to be self-sufficient.  I’m glad she did because I clearly love to cook now. 

But my first memory of eating a specific processed, manufactured food was entirely different.  My family moved to Luxembourg just before I started seventh grade.  It was a dramatic change, needless to say, from living in northeast Georgia.  Among the lifestyle shifts was taking the city bus to school.  I walked down the street through a grocery store parking lot and got bus number ten each morning, often in the dark and went off to an international school with fewer kids in the junior high and high school than in my entire sixth grade back in Georgia.  In the afternoon, the trip home frequently meant hanging out with classmates downtown before making my way to the bus.  Even once back in the neighborhood a stroll through the grocery store, the Cactus, was often necessary for a little snack before heading home and doing homework.  Another American family lived in the area and their kids, a few years older than me, often rode the same bus.  One afternoon early in seventh grade we all wandered through the grocery store together.  I have no idea what I was buying, but in the checkout lane one of the other Americans picked up some candy (do checkout lanes the world over all have candy?) and suggested I try one.  I’ll try anything so I grabbed one.  In fact, it was four individually wrapped candies in clear cellophane.  Once into the parking lot the other kid gave me the necessary instructions.

“Ok, you can’t just bite into these.  They’re filled with liquid so you have to put the whole thing in your mouth or be careful.”

I unwrapped one bright pink wrapper and held a small dark chocolate block in my hand.  I popped it into my mouth and bit in.  Wow!  A seriously alcoholic juice filled my mouth as I bit through the chocolate and into a soft cherry.  I choked like, well, like a kid trying any strong liquor would. 

Ok, now I knew what to expect.  Time for another one.  I unwrapped it and looked at it carefully.  It obviously had a very thin chocolate shell, one easily crushed if not careful.  I popped this second one into my mouth but bit into it much more slowly.  The liquor leaked out slowly.  It tasted delicious, but strong.  The chocolate almost seemed to evaporate.  The cherry was soft and soaked in booze.  I let the flavors swirl and knew then that I had eaten something spectacular and completely unknown in the States.   I had a new love, Mon Cheri.  For the next several months I bought these beautiful little chocolates as often as I could.  After a while I shared these at home.  I am pretty sure my mother was horrified that her 12 year old son was coming home popping these things like over grown M&Ms, but I guess European libertarianism had gotten under her skin.  She never forbade me from eating them.

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Mon Cheri, that’s what this candy was called, is actually filled with kirsch liquor and a Portuguese cherry and is manufactured by the Italian chocolate giant, Ferrero.  You probably know them as the makers of Nutella.  Manufactured since 1956, the Mon Cheri is the flagship product of Ferrero, even if they sell more of their other products.  Exceptionally difficult to get in the States, I never stop looking.  I found them once at the Christkindlmarket in Daley Square one Christmas in Chicago.  I bought a significant stash.  One bite and I was instantly transported to the Cactus parking lot.  On trips to Europe since I have found them, most often in duty free shops.  An Italian friend tells me they are almost impossible to find in the summer time (I’m a teacher and most often travel in the summer) because they melt and cause quite a mess.  She even suggested they weren’t even made in the summer.  What is it with me and chocolates only available in the winter?  

Alas, Mon Cheri, we were meant to love years ago and allowed only a few fleeting, clandestine rendez-vous since.  A bientot.           

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Minneapolis

I recently had the opportunity to visit Minneapolis.  After attending a few years of college over in St. Paul (at the wonderfully liberal and global, Macalester College), I had not been to the Twin Cities in a very long time.  A short visit in June reminded me why I loved the area, but I must admit, it was awfully nice to be there in late June and not November through March.  As is the case with all my travels, I made sure food took center stage.  Here’s a brief rundown of my dining experiences.

Brit's Pub – I spent much of two afternoons at Brits working on my book.  On day one I sampled the Scotch eggs.  Oh my, they were soooo good.  Crisp on the outside, just spicy enough to wake up dreary taste buds and perfectly cooked eggs.  A couple hoppy IPAs recommended by my server and a few hours later, I had fallen in love with the place even if I had not written as much as I had hoped.  The next day I committed to drinking water and root beer – I had to get work done – but had to sample the cod bites.  True to a good pub, the fish was great.  More important to me on days like these was the accommodating staff.  I love feeling as though they truly don’t mind me taking up some space and dropping lots of money.  In these situations I am always inspired to tip particularly well.  So thank you staff at Brit’s for your patience and your recommendations.  A word about décor…If you are looking for a British pub, you’ve found it.  A fireplace downstairs that features a shrine to the royal family, soccer and rugby on the tube, appropriate pub grub, and rooftop lawn bowling…what can I say?

Loring Kitchen and Bar  – Just on the north edge of Loring Park in downtown Minneapolis sits a quiet, comfortable restaurant with a diverse menu, trendy, cool interior and sidewalk seating perfect for passing a summer afternoon.  We had a couple drinks, cauliflower fritters, quinoa and black bean sliders and walleye sliders.  Every bite was delicious.  The flavors in the sliders popped with freshness and made wonderful afternoon snacks.  Though not exactly on a thoroughfare, the park across the street provided for good people watching.  In the evening we have to assume this place is very hip. 

The Local – Nicolett Mall`s other ode to the traditional pub (a few blocks north of Brit’s) has a more Irish theme and a very lively evening culture.  The atmosphere of this place is something special.  A gigantic back bar, multiple snugs, including one called the Kissing Booth and an overwhelmingly dark, intimate interior, the place feels like the kind of place I would love to call my local.  The food is also excellent.  The quinoa salad had some of the creamiest avocado and the fish and chips met all expectations for a good pub.  Service was great.  The only reason I didn’t spend some writing time her was the lack of wall plugs for my laptop.

Bar La Grassa – This place is special and precisely the sort of place I look for.  At 8:30 there was a 45 minute wait unless we wanted to sit at the kitchen bar and watch the work.  That was right up our alley.  But this speaks to the popularity of the place.  The music was hip, and the décor respected the history of its warehouse setting.  There were guests dressed in coat and tie and others in jeans and all seemed comfortable.  However, as every big city has seen in recent years, it’s easy to make a place hip and comfy and not so easy to support that with quality food and great service.  BLG need to worry.  From the moment we took our seats at the far side of the kitchen we were treated to amiable, helpful, very well-informed service.  We were first treated to an amuse bouche of marinated gigante beans that were flavorful and bright.  This served to heighten our expectations for the rest of our meal, and we were not disappointed.  Our server poured my wife’s wine, but then poured another small glass of her second choice wine just so she could try it.  We sampled a bruschetta  with white anchovies and avocado and a crispy salad saporoso – both truly excellent.  Next I had to try the carbonara.  This too, though not as great as Salt Lake City’s Vivace, was delicious and creamy.  Our server explained that they are prepping the eggs for carbonara using sous vide.  I love that he knew this and that the chef is looking for ways to safely stay committed to traditional carbonara in light of most Americans’ squimishness with “raw” eggs.  My wife had the pasta negra (black pasta made with squid ink) and sea urchin, mussels and tomato.  Exquisite…one of the most delicious pastas I’ve had in a long time.  For dessert we tried the house made limoncello – also very flavorful, but maybe a touch thin.  By the time we were done much of the restaurant was empty.  The hostess offered to call a cab if one wasn’t on the corner, but that wasn’t a problem.  A wonderful evening marked by all the elements of a great meal – great, knowledgeable and warm service, casual, comfortable atmosphere and excellent food.     

Key's at Foshay Tower  – Looking for a typical diner breakfast?  This is it.  Keys feels like it’s been here forever, the sorts of place that politicians and journalists shared stories off the record over coffee and cigarettes 60 years ago.  Breakfast here can be as large and artery-clogging or as simple and healthy as you like.  The sausage patty satisfied any craving for grease and spice I needed for June.  The oatmeal hit the spot, warmed the soul.  My egg was cooked perfectly with a runny yolk, but crispy burnt edges.  Efficient service showed just the sort of warmth to out-of-towners that makes a diner a perfect place for breakfast. 

Zelo – For those unfamiliar with Minneapolis, Nicolett Mall is a wiggly downtown street made so to slow traffic and encourage pedestrian meandering.  It is lined with shops and restaurants, many on the second floors accessible by skyways – elevated sidewalks that connect most of downtown (it gets very cold during Minnesota’s very long winter).  Those restaurants at street level virtually all have sidewalk seating in the summer along Nicolette, and it must be one of Minneapolis’ true gifts.  And perhaps by virtue of those long, frigid winters, the sidewalk seating is exceptionally popular all summer.  We took in one of the most inviting of the sidewalk seating areas and ate at Zelo.  Zelo sits at a busy intersection featuring a bus stop and Target’s flagship store; the people watching is superb.  We tried four dishes, the fried calamari, ahi spring roll, salad Brasiliana and lemongrass crabcakes.  The calamari was very lightly breaded and tender.  The spring roll was beautifully presented and so delicious it was hard not to come back to Zelo again just for that.  The Brasiliana was crisp and bright with hearts of palm and bib lettuce, one of the best restaurant salads I have had in a long time.  And the crabcakes…filled with flavor, filled with crab and amazing.  In fact, they may be the best crabcakes I’ve had – and certainly the best I’ve had anywhere more than 10 miles from the ocean.  As delicious as the food was, the service was actually better.  Lauren, our server, recognized our pace and let us linger between courses, just as we wished.  When we asked her for places to see, drink spots, live music spots and other places to eat on our visit she was warm, welcoming and helpful.  In fact, she was the first one to mention Bar La Grassa.  She was a great ambassador for her city.  Furthermore, our server truly made the experience at Zelo memorable – thank you.

Come check out LikeSteam

I have posted and promoted this before, but I would love to again in the interest of growth.  If you have gone online to find a restaurant in a city you’re planning to visit, this site or app is for you.  Come check this out...and I look forward to seeing you over there.  

Come sign up for LikeStream because you want great restaurant recommendations from the friends and experts you trust and want to hear from. Who better than a passionate local with a point of view, to help you discover more hidden gems? 

LikeStream has a couple knowledgeable and adventurous local foodie experts to help you in your quest for new dining experiences. 

Michelle Syracuse is the author of a tasteful blog called Gather365. With the motto of "Go forth, Gather, Eat good food", she engagingly narrates her dining experiences in and around Oakland and San Francisco. Best way to describe Michelle's choices and reviews - down-to-earth, warm and thoughtful.  

Mark Janda is the author of a thought-provoking blog called It Takes A Kitchen. Mark is a history teacher with a penchant for exploring new food and dining, so you can imagine the learning and adventure that comes from following his reviews around his hometown of Santa Cruz, the San Francisco Bay Area, and Europe.

Sign-in, go to our "foodies & friends" page and follow them from our "famous foodies" tab to see their reviews in your search results.

p.s. A local expert foodie yourself? or know of one? Just let us know, we would love to promote you or your friend on our famous foodies page!

 

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For the reviews, set the "Where" field to the appropriate city e.g. San Francisco and then search for your restaurant by name.  When you find it, click on “Rate It” and you’ll see a window allowing you to enter a short or long entry.  Hit Save and you’re all set.

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See you there.

Finally, I am back...

How on earth have two months gone by without a post?  I guess May and June are my busiest times.   We have celebrated a first communion, multiple birthdays, Mothers’ Day, and the end of the school year all followed by a ten-day business trip, a five-day leisure trip during which I spent most of my time working on the book, another four-day trip spent with family and time at home catching up on house things.  Wow…now I am tired.  But I am back and the posts will start again.

My first trip was to Salt Lake City.  This was my second prolonged visit to SLC, and I must admit to being pleasantly surprised again.  It’s a place of weird dichotomies.  On the one the one hand, you have sizeable city with a vast business/industrial area stretching for miles from downtown past the airport to the west and sprawling, faceless suburbs to the south.  But to the east, beautiful mountains in which you can have yourself thousands of feet higher and feet in the snow faster than from virtually any large city in America.  The physical beauty of the area is striking, the city spotless and compact enough for easy walking, even if the roads are freakishly wide.  The people are also an interesting mix of youthful, progressive and inked and conservative, traditional and Mormon.  What you may have heard about SLC being dry or at least needing a membership to drink in bars – false.  Rolling up the sidewalks at sunset – false.  Nothing to do or eat after dark – false.  The truth is, I really like SLC, and I ate quite well.  Here’s a quick rundown of my culinary highlights…

Squatters Pub – So you thought Salt Lake would be bereft of brew pubs and beer meccas, uh?  It’s not at all.  Don’t get me wrong, it’s not Portland or San Diego, but it does have a few.  Squatters must be the largest.  Housed in a gigantic building it features two levels each with large bars and seating for seemingly hundreds.  Downstairs feels like your average sports bar, while upstairs offers some great views of the mountains and a smaller, more intimate bar and fewer TVs.  The beer has the typical assortment from a lighter pilsner, a reasonably hoppy IPA and a rich stout and stops along the spectrum.  They do nothing extreme, but do what they do well.  The food is typical bar food, also good.  I am partial to the Ahi spring rolls. 

The Bayou – This place is something special for beer fans, in fact they call themselves Beervana.  Just south of the immediate downtown area, it’s housed in an old warehouse and features a Cajun and Creole theme and global beer selection.  Want to see the folks the Mormons rejected?  You will see them here.  Live music and spicy food brings out the area’s version of counter culture (again, this isn’t Portland).  The food is delicious; I am partial to the oyster po’ boy, but you won’t go wrong.  Beer selection makes this one of America’s great places to tour the brewing world without leaving your seat.  And if you’re committed to trying the locals when you travel, this place has them all. 

Gracie's – Gracie’s is the one place downtown at which you are virtually guaranteed to see a crowd every single night.  Two great patios, one upstairs with a view to the east, live music and good food draw in the young crowd.  Food and drink are both good and reasonably priced.  I can’t stop eating their nachos. 

The Green Pig – The Pig, with its TVs, live music and its upstairs patio, is a true, blue collar bar with appropriate name, lots of activity, diverse crowd, excellent service and an awesome Cuban pork sandwich.   

Beerhive – Utah is the Beehive state, and the beehive motif abounds everywhere you look.  Right downtown, perfectly placed to be a happy hour watering hole for businesspeople, politicians, bureaucrats and tourists alike, is the drinkers’ play on a theme, the Beerhive.  Has some feel of an old-fashioned, Old West barroom, with upscale drinks, good beer selection and good service.  The novelty ice bar will keep your drinks cool if you opt to sit there.  Ask for some Utah-distilled Underground and relax. 

Vivace – Vivace is one of my great surprises in SLC.  Nestled into a car dealership in an old neighborhood going through new development and revitalization on the west side of downtown, Vivace’s setting will transport you to hip neighborhoods of NYC or San Francisco with the authentic cuisine of Italy.  Casual with seating along large windows that roll up when the weather demands or at a bar so you can watch the kitchen, you will quickly recognize that this place is all about fresh, delicious, flavorful food.  Go with a prix fixe, and you will get a proper sampling of all this place can do.  As a “collector” of carbonara, Vivace’s is among the most authentic I have had in the States – no peas, no cream – just eggs and pancetta.  Grilled veggies and chicken were amazing.  This is a must stop for the Italiaphile.    

Cannella's – A hip hangout with great food.  Greeted by a man with a handle bar mustache, bowler hat and inked sleeves, I sat at a table with two friends on their delightful sidewalk and had a refreshing beer, excellent antipasti plate and a chopped salad with anchovies added…and all tasted great, served with a charming smile.  Great menu littered with clever quotes.  My favorites…

“ALCOHOL MAY BE A MANS WORST ENEMY, BUT THE BIBLE SAYS LOVE YOUR ENEMY.”- FRANK SINATRA

 “YOUR BODY IS NOT A TEMPLE, IT IS AN AMUSEMENT PARK, ENJOY THE RIDE!” - ANTHONY BOURDAIN

It was a near-perfect post-ride, late dinner.  I need to visit again.   

Rio Grande Cafe – In a refurbished train station to the west of downtown, Rio Grande is historic and quirky.  Check out the Chick-in Taco over the bar.  Inexpensive Mexican food, family-friendly with great service.  It’s not a SoCal Taqueria, but it satisfied a craving.

Ruth's Diner – One of the oldest restaurants in the state and made famous on Diners, Drive-in and Dives, this spot is well outside of downtown.  In fact, it’s out past the University and the Zoo on your way up Emigration Canyon.  If you’re a cyclist and wander past here on your way up the canyon you will smell the kitchen before your round the corner.  Then you’ll see the overcrowded lot and the cars parked on the shoulder across the street.  After you climb 2000 feet and 20 miles later you’ll come screaming past in the other direction good and hungry.  Take a shower, head back in a car, and you’ll replace the calories you burned.  Great chicken fried steak, excellent diner food, charming service, quirky atmosphere decorated with flamingos…why?  Don’t ask…just eat!  You’ll be so glad. 
 

Thanks, Salt Lake City for a great time this year.  See you again next June.