No matter where you live, everyone has one: the comfortable, laid back venue that serves as a default when you can't bear the thought of cereal for dinner (again), when you don't want a hassle, and when you don't know what you want but you know you're really hungry. My default is the Longfellow Grill on East Lake. Their diverse menu spans breakfast foods (both sweet and salty), familiar sandwich favorites (some with a twist), home-style entrees (meatloaf, anyone?), punchy salads, plus some of the best beer-battered green beans around. And a full bar.
We arrived at the Longfellow on a beautiful spring evening - bikers paraded up and down the river trails, families strolled with kids and dogs, the neighborhood along West River Road smelled of charcoal, and the Dairy Queen line snaked down East Lake. Miraculously, my guest and I scored a patio table right away.
I ordered a turkey burger and sprang an extra buck for a side of sweet fries. Whenever I have attempted to cook turkey burgers I throw the grey stuff in a Forman, slap it on a whole wheat bun, then pile it with cheese and ketchup so I forget that I'm are eating a ground up lump of over-cooked poultry. But the Longfellow Grill has this burger down to an art. The turkey was tender and juicy with a dash of tumeric for kick and finely chopped jalapeno for spice. It was topped with a thin slice of gruyere cheese, and was so hearty that I felt like Kobayashi after just half. The sweet fries, which are really just sweet potato fries, were sinfully oily and rich but provided just the right balance against a mildly spicy burger. Trust me folks - it is well worth the extra $1.
We generally try to keep to ourselves when dining out, but patio tables at the Longfellow are situated very close to each other so we couldn't help but overhear the couple next to us. Their son, a bus boy, kept dropping by to check on how well they liked their food. They knew our waitress from a local swim team. They flagged down some friends sitting across the patio and reeled them in for a rather spirited conversation about shower grout. And although the couple's probing questions about the "50 meter free" kept our waitress holding our check for a bit longer than one might have hoped, this couple exposed the Longfellow for what it truly is: a local joint, a neighborhood grill, and a place you can count on whether you're looking for a night out with friends or simply can't be bothered to cook.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Monday, May 19, 2008
T's Place (5/19/08) Offers Friendly Fare with Ethiopian Flair
Twin Cities residents are visibly twitchy these days. After several late snows and unseasonably cool weather, we've finally had some sunny spring days and the lilacs are just starting to bud. Yet this year, unlike most, we still haven't had the luxury of walking outside sans jacket and feeling warm sun against our skin.
Which may be one of the reasons I found T's Place so refreshing - this restaurant is the antidote to anything glum and ho-hum. The walls of this East Lake eatery are a deep persimmon hue, the original molded ceiling glows with gold, popular Amharic songs beat from the speakers, and the cheerful waitstaff all flash thousand watt smiles.
We were seated immediately and started with a round of Meta beers, a popular lager from Ethiopia. They were light and refreshing, almost fruity but not as blatant as a Blue Moon or a shandy. My fellow chow hound ordered a dish with cubed lamb, garlic, turmeric, and jalapeño peppers, which came beautifully plated on a platter with two rounds of injera bread, rolled in half, flanking the main dish. The flavor was complex and not for the faint of heart since that jalapeño gave it quite a kick.
My meal included a bowl of spiced ground beef and a bowl of a creamy yet tart sauce with chopped spinach, each flanked with rounds of injera bread. For my western palette it was an unusual combination of flavors, but after one bite I was hooked. I had injera bread once before at Fasika and wasn't a fan, but T's Place really takes it to another level. T's bread was delightfully light and spongy, slightly sour (just as it should be), and was the perfect vehicle for sopping up those ground beef juices.
We also ordered a roti appetizer, which consisted of a fried flat bread and a curry-like sauce with steamed vegetables. I could feel my hips getting wider with each bite, but the crispy bread and heavy, robust curry might tie with macaroni and cheese as the ultimate comfort food.
This restaurant embodies several of my favorite things about the Twin Cities: a penchant for boldness, dedication to quality, an opportunity to significantly expand your horizons just a few miles from home, and really nice, friendly people.
Which may be one of the reasons I found T's Place so refreshing - this restaurant is the antidote to anything glum and ho-hum. The walls of this East Lake eatery are a deep persimmon hue, the original molded ceiling glows with gold, popular Amharic songs beat from the speakers, and the cheerful waitstaff all flash thousand watt smiles.
We were seated immediately and started with a round of Meta beers, a popular lager from Ethiopia. They were light and refreshing, almost fruity but not as blatant as a Blue Moon or a shandy. My fellow chow hound ordered a dish with cubed lamb, garlic, turmeric, and jalapeño peppers, which came beautifully plated on a platter with two rounds of injera bread, rolled in half, flanking the main dish. The flavor was complex and not for the faint of heart since that jalapeño gave it quite a kick.
My meal included a bowl of spiced ground beef and a bowl of a creamy yet tart sauce with chopped spinach, each flanked with rounds of injera bread. For my western palette it was an unusual combination of flavors, but after one bite I was hooked. I had injera bread once before at Fasika and wasn't a fan, but T's Place really takes it to another level. T's bread was delightfully light and spongy, slightly sour (just as it should be), and was the perfect vehicle for sopping up those ground beef juices.
We also ordered a roti appetizer, which consisted of a fried flat bread and a curry-like sauce with steamed vegetables. I could feel my hips getting wider with each bite, but the crispy bread and heavy, robust curry might tie with macaroni and cheese as the ultimate comfort food.
This restaurant embodies several of my favorite things about the Twin Cities: a penchant for boldness, dedication to quality, an opportunity to significantly expand your horizons just a few miles from home, and really nice, friendly people.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Bon Vie (5/18/08) is Fit for a Queen
Bon Vie 5.18.08
My mother is the self-appointed Queen of Fattening Breakfast Food. A connoisseur of eggs, gravy, hollandaise, and potatoes, she has been known to devour a plate of eggs Benedict, slouch back in her chair, hang her arms so low that they almost touch the floor, and groan with exhausted delight. So when my mom says it's good, you know it's good.
We arrived at Bon Vie around 10:30 Sunday morning and were surprised that the wait was only 15 minutes. When my father explained to the hostess that we were going to walk around the block and would return shortly, she patted his shoulder and said, "That sounds lovely - I'll hold a table for you if something opens up while you're out." That gesture of accommodation is the type that makes patrons feel comfortable and welcome; it did not go unnoticed.
We returned a few minutes later and waited a short while to be seated, but the hostess immediately brought cups of fresh coffee and thanked us for waiting.
Bon Vie is decorated with a French theme, but the menu is a bit more intercontinental than one might expect. I think the only French item on the menu was a quiche, which the French don't typically eat for breakfast. But items such as Tuscan Hash, Louisiana Benedict (a Cajun take on the traditional eggs Benedict), Migas (think nachos with scrambled eggs), and Strawberry White Chocolate pancakes are so tempting that I soon laid the "this theme is inconsistent" concern to rest.
My father and I ordered the Tuscan Hash, a melange of hash browned potatoes, Italian sausage, sliced kalamata olives, celery, and grape tomatoes, all topped with a poached egg. The dish was delectable. Rather than tasting like salty fried fat, as some rich breakfasts are wont to do, the briny olives cut through the oily sausage and potatoes, the light grape tomatoes put a little spring in each bite, and the celery added a flavor dimension that I never expected.
My mother, true to form, ordered the Eggs Benedict. The hollandaise had more of a lemon dimension than many takes on the classic sauce, which really lifted the flavor. Our family firmly believes that the perfect Benny is topped with a runny, not a firm, poached egg - this is as core to our belief structure as "thou shalt not steal" and "wash your hands after using the restroom." But the hollandaise sauce was such a knockout that my mother didn't even mention the firmness of her egg until several minutes into the meal. And the second egg, by the grace of god, was divinely runny.
We walked out of Bon Vie feeling just like one should on a Sunday morning in May - delightfully full, blissfully satisfied, and ready to take it easy. As the Queen hopped into her passenger side throne, she slouched back in her seat, clasped her well manicured hands over her belly, and groaned, "that was good." And I knew, as usual, that she was right.
My mother is the self-appointed Queen of Fattening Breakfast Food. A connoisseur of eggs, gravy, hollandaise, and potatoes, she has been known to devour a plate of eggs Benedict, slouch back in her chair, hang her arms so low that they almost touch the floor, and groan with exhausted delight. So when my mom says it's good, you know it's good.
We arrived at Bon Vie around 10:30 Sunday morning and were surprised that the wait was only 15 minutes. When my father explained to the hostess that we were going to walk around the block and would return shortly, she patted his shoulder and said, "That sounds lovely - I'll hold a table for you if something opens up while you're out." That gesture of accommodation is the type that makes patrons feel comfortable and welcome; it did not go unnoticed.
We returned a few minutes later and waited a short while to be seated, but the hostess immediately brought cups of fresh coffee and thanked us for waiting.
Bon Vie is decorated with a French theme, but the menu is a bit more intercontinental than one might expect. I think the only French item on the menu was a quiche, which the French don't typically eat for breakfast. But items such as Tuscan Hash, Louisiana Benedict (a Cajun take on the traditional eggs Benedict), Migas (think nachos with scrambled eggs), and Strawberry White Chocolate pancakes are so tempting that I soon laid the "this theme is inconsistent" concern to rest.
My father and I ordered the Tuscan Hash, a melange of hash browned potatoes, Italian sausage, sliced kalamata olives, celery, and grape tomatoes, all topped with a poached egg. The dish was delectable. Rather than tasting like salty fried fat, as some rich breakfasts are wont to do, the briny olives cut through the oily sausage and potatoes, the light grape tomatoes put a little spring in each bite, and the celery added a flavor dimension that I never expected.
My mother, true to form, ordered the Eggs Benedict. The hollandaise had more of a lemon dimension than many takes on the classic sauce, which really lifted the flavor. Our family firmly believes that the perfect Benny is topped with a runny, not a firm, poached egg - this is as core to our belief structure as "thou shalt not steal" and "wash your hands after using the restroom." But the hollandaise sauce was such a knockout that my mother didn't even mention the firmness of her egg until several minutes into the meal. And the second egg, by the grace of god, was divinely runny.
We walked out of Bon Vie feeling just like one should on a Sunday morning in May - delightfully full, blissfully satisfied, and ready to take it easy. As the Queen hopped into her passenger side throne, she slouched back in her seat, clasped her well manicured hands over her belly, and groaned, "that was good." And I knew, as usual, that she was right.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Al Vento (5/17/08) SE Minneapolis Stalwart gives a shaky ride
Al Vento: 5.17.08
Until recently Al Vento was the restaurant equivalent of the Little Black Dress: a simple yet elegant "wower" that suited most any occasion and never failed to impress. But lately the venue has lost some of its luster.
Our party of four arrived at 8:00 PM on a Saturday without a reservation. We were prepared to wait for what could potentially be a long time, but were not prepared to stand jammed between each other and a glass front door that flapped in the strong wind. This restaurant is simply not suited for the reservationless - there is nowhere to stand, only one small two-seater bench for sitting, and since the restaurant allows patrons to dine at the cramped bar at the back of the restaurant good luck finding a seat (good luck even finding a place to stand that doesn't leave you with risotto all over the seat of that Little Black Dress).
Once a table was available, we were ushered into the back room. It was so uncomfortably humid and warm that after 5 minutes everyone at our table was drowsy and one person was wiping beads of sweat from his brow. After 10 minutes we were served water, after 20 minutes we met our waitress, and after almost an hour our first round had been served.
At this point the sun had gone down and the small glass votive in the center of the table was simply not emitting enough light for me to determine which of our two appetizers was before me. While most restaurants entice patrons with food design and plating, this room was literally so dark that all visual stimuli were lost.
Appetizer #1, a crostini loaded with morel mushrooms drizzled in truffle oil and topped with fresh romano shavings, was delightful until the first morel hit my molars - the mushrooms hadn't been properly soaked and I was literally chewing gritty dirt. For those of you who have never chewed sand, the sensation sends chills down your spine and is so unpleasant that you are unlikely to soon forget it. Appetizer #2, consisting of two crab cakes stacked beside a simple taste of mixed greens, tasted so fishy and salty that I couldn't help but wonder whether the crab had come straight from a can and plopped on our plate.
Feeling hot, sticky, hungry, and already partially disappointed I elected to steer clear of the exotics and order something on the simple side. But my pizza of roasted red pepper, red onion, and Gorgonzola left more than a little to be desired. This was a very thin pizza, yet the crust was soggy and provided hardly any contrast in texture with the toppings. With some bites the Gorgonzola flavor was so overwhelming that I could neither taste nor smell anything but Gorgonzola for several minutes. With other bites I felt as if I had sunk my teeth into a salt lick. And with every bite in between I tasted a decent tomato sauce topped with cold, leathery, "fresh" mozzarella. Simply stated, it was revolting.
Two in our party ordered the risotto with wild boar, and again this dish missed the mark. The risotto was crunchy in the middle and the white wine flavor completely overwhelmed the more delicate, buttery, slightly gamely flavor that the dish could have (and should have) offered.
The fourth member of our party opted for the more conservative spaghetti with a tomato-based "Mother Sauce," topped with two enormous veal meatballs. Even a simple staple dish like this disappointed. The meatballs were lukewarm, mushy, and offered little structure or resistance. The tomato sauce was mediocre and lacked dimension. The only positive with this dish was the spot-on spaghetti texture - it offered just enough bite and was perfectly al dente.
Our dismal food experience could have been partially salvaged by exquisite service, but our server visited rarely, came to take our order as she was holding a handful of beers for a table on the other side of the room, left us without full sets of silverware, and never minded the dirty napkins from previous diners that were scattered beside our table.
But the coup de grace for me was the state of the main restroom. The tiny bathroom reeked of mildew (perhaps a result of the air conditioner?), a welcoming committee of small back bugs crawled over the light fixture, and I literally had to shuffle through used paper towels that were overflowing from the trashcan before I reached the toilet.
I find it difficult to explain this perfect storm of poor service, inadequate facilities, untidiness, and disappointing food by pointing to unusual circumstances such as "waitstaff went missing," "delivery truck didn't arrive," or "new chef in a new kitchen." My recommendation is to steer clear of al Vento and let everyone else wait uncomfortably for a seat at their table. This restaurant needs to scale down, spread out, up the lighting, boost attentiveness, and focus on food quality again. Otherwise the Nokomis area can take this Little Black Dress to the thrift store.
Until recently Al Vento was the restaurant equivalent of the Little Black Dress: a simple yet elegant "wower" that suited most any occasion and never failed to impress. But lately the venue has lost some of its luster.
Our party of four arrived at 8:00 PM on a Saturday without a reservation. We were prepared to wait for what could potentially be a long time, but were not prepared to stand jammed between each other and a glass front door that flapped in the strong wind. This restaurant is simply not suited for the reservationless - there is nowhere to stand, only one small two-seater bench for sitting, and since the restaurant allows patrons to dine at the cramped bar at the back of the restaurant good luck finding a seat (good luck even finding a place to stand that doesn't leave you with risotto all over the seat of that Little Black Dress).
Once a table was available, we were ushered into the back room. It was so uncomfortably humid and warm that after 5 minutes everyone at our table was drowsy and one person was wiping beads of sweat from his brow. After 10 minutes we were served water, after 20 minutes we met our waitress, and after almost an hour our first round had been served.
At this point the sun had gone down and the small glass votive in the center of the table was simply not emitting enough light for me to determine which of our two appetizers was before me. While most restaurants entice patrons with food design and plating, this room was literally so dark that all visual stimuli were lost.
Appetizer #1, a crostini loaded with morel mushrooms drizzled in truffle oil and topped with fresh romano shavings, was delightful until the first morel hit my molars - the mushrooms hadn't been properly soaked and I was literally chewing gritty dirt. For those of you who have never chewed sand, the sensation sends chills down your spine and is so unpleasant that you are unlikely to soon forget it. Appetizer #2, consisting of two crab cakes stacked beside a simple taste of mixed greens, tasted so fishy and salty that I couldn't help but wonder whether the crab had come straight from a can and plopped on our plate.
Feeling hot, sticky, hungry, and already partially disappointed I elected to steer clear of the exotics and order something on the simple side. But my pizza of roasted red pepper, red onion, and Gorgonzola left more than a little to be desired. This was a very thin pizza, yet the crust was soggy and provided hardly any contrast in texture with the toppings. With some bites the Gorgonzola flavor was so overwhelming that I could neither taste nor smell anything but Gorgonzola for several minutes. With other bites I felt as if I had sunk my teeth into a salt lick. And with every bite in between I tasted a decent tomato sauce topped with cold, leathery, "fresh" mozzarella. Simply stated, it was revolting.
Two in our party ordered the risotto with wild boar, and again this dish missed the mark. The risotto was crunchy in the middle and the white wine flavor completely overwhelmed the more delicate, buttery, slightly gamely flavor that the dish could have (and should have) offered.
The fourth member of our party opted for the more conservative spaghetti with a tomato-based "Mother Sauce," topped with two enormous veal meatballs. Even a simple staple dish like this disappointed. The meatballs were lukewarm, mushy, and offered little structure or resistance. The tomato sauce was mediocre and lacked dimension. The only positive with this dish was the spot-on spaghetti texture - it offered just enough bite and was perfectly al dente.
Our dismal food experience could have been partially salvaged by exquisite service, but our server visited rarely, came to take our order as she was holding a handful of beers for a table on the other side of the room, left us without full sets of silverware, and never minded the dirty napkins from previous diners that were scattered beside our table.
But the coup de grace for me was the state of the main restroom. The tiny bathroom reeked of mildew (perhaps a result of the air conditioner?), a welcoming committee of small back bugs crawled over the light fixture, and I literally had to shuffle through used paper towels that were overflowing from the trashcan before I reached the toilet.
I find it difficult to explain this perfect storm of poor service, inadequate facilities, untidiness, and disappointing food by pointing to unusual circumstances such as "waitstaff went missing," "delivery truck didn't arrive," or "new chef in a new kitchen." My recommendation is to steer clear of al Vento and let everyone else wait uncomfortably for a seat at their table. This restaurant needs to scale down, spread out, up the lighting, boost attentiveness, and focus on food quality again. Otherwise the Nokomis area can take this Little Black Dress to the thrift store.
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