food & whine

As anyone who has spoken to me for upwards of thirty seconds can attest, I am a rather vain creature. My boyfriend has had to witness many semi-hysterical moments when we are out and about, and I suddenly realize that my hair no longer looks “good” or my skin looks “bad” (though most of the time these assessments mystify him). But one bit of appearance-based embarrassment that most people, male and female alike, can relate to is wine mouth.

Wine mouth (terminology coined by yours truly) is the phenomenon through which multiple servings of red wine leave a purplish cast over one’s teeth and the inner rims of one’s lips. It is both ghastly to behold, and difficult to eradicate; brushing one’s teeth is all well and good when said wine-drinking occurs at home, but what of wine mouth cropping up during, say, a classy wine-tasting? Unacceptable. But what to do? Give up my red? Not a chance.

Out and about today, I came across a product which claims to solve this problem, and I couldn’t resist trying it out. Wine Wipes come in a small round container, a bit larger than a lip gloss, but smaller than a compact. For $4.99, you get 20 wipes, plus a little mirror in the lid. A little steep, but how does one put a price on beauty?

After some Italian cuisine and a few glasses of Shiraz with my mother, I was ready to give these little pads a spin. I expected some non-poisonous version of makeup remover, and anticipated that they would not be hugely effective.

The first thing I notice is that these wipes taste strange. Not miserably medicinal, but kind of…salty, in an odd way. I look at the product website, and it turns out one of the main active ingredients is not some bizarre chemical, but in fact, good ol’ baking soda.

I used the pad on my teeth and lips, and not only did I see the stains actually come off onto the pad (ew), my wine mouth was completely gone! And the odd salty/sourish taste dissipated quickly.

As I noted earlier, this product is pretty expensive, and I don’t know that it would necessarily become an indispensable fixture in my wine-drinking routine. However, for now, the wipes will earn a spot in my purse; nothing makes you look overindulgent quite like a set of lavender choppers.

Matera Caffé restaurant review (Yelp!, 1/7/12)

Whoa. Where to begin?

My boyfriend and I were looking for a brunch place to grab a meal before he hit the road for Cleveland, and after plugging in “brunch” and “Springboro” to the Yelp search engine, this place was by far the best option. I am a huge breakfast-food enthusiast, so after perusing their fabulous-sounding menu, I was very excited to give this place a try. Chorizo hash? Pesto omelette? Strawberry-mascarpone stuffed French toast? Yes, please, all of the above.

I arrived just a moment or two before my bf. The waitress brought me a menu, and though I mentioned I was expecting someone, she never brought one for him…even AFTER he sat down and she took his drink order. The service did not improve from here; as a former (and who knows, possibly future) server, I know  precisely the amount of effort it takes to make someone feel welcome, and greet them with a smile. Spoiler alert: it’s not much. This woman seemed as though she felt somewhat put out by our every request, and though it sounds rather nitpicky, the fact that the look of grim boredom on her face never so much as wavered sent out some not-so-great vibes.

I went with a caramel macchiato and the chorizo hash, as the only thing that can improve upon hash-brown potatoes is the addition of spicy sausage and peppers; this version was even topped with an egg, which just sounded perfect. The bf got a margherita pizza.

When the food arrived, I was speechless. Expecting a plate heaped with sauteed chunks of meat and potatoes, I was instead greeted by a bowl of what looked like Indian food: a bright orange, creamy mass that bore absolutely no resemblance to any breakfast I’d ever had in my life. It wasn’t unpleasant-tasting, but it was so rich that an hour later I currently have a bit of a stomachache. There were scarcely any actual pieces of potato or sausage; I spent several minutes combing through with my fork, looking for texture, but the potatoes were so overcooked that they merely fell apart as I touched them. I mean, I love sausage gravy as much as the next person, but I have no desire to eat a bowl of it with nothing substantial with which to contrast the sauce. I asked the server what exactly this was, trying to be polite as I remarked that it wasn’t what I expected. Though I am very aware the server is not responsible for what goes into a dish, I was a bit put off by the fact that she seemed to have no clue why it was so creamy; she claimed it was just a side effect of cooking the chorizo, though there was clearly a large amount of heavy or sour cream involved.

The best thing I can say for this experience is that the coffee was top-notch. Jon also enjoyed his pizza. The chef/owner was very friendly, and I really wanted to love this place, considering the dearth of non-chain restaurants in the South Dayton area. No luck there. To be honest, I would be willing to come back and try lunch or dinner, but I will be proceeding with caution concerning any dish whose preparation is not explicitly described on the menu. Such a disappointment.

I give this experience two out of five sad Lloyd Christmas faces.

Today, I am sampling Anchor Christmas Ale.

I love, love, love the bottle. I can appreciate good marketing, and any time a brewer chooses packaging just a hair outside of the rank-and-file (tall and skinny, short and stout, engraved logos in the glass, etc) it catches my eye. You might say I’m shallow for feeling more inclined to give said eye-catchingly-bottled beer a try over any number of other contenders; to that I say, people buy wine because of cool art on the labels all the time, and also, shut up.

According to Anchor’s website, though they have been releasing a Christmas Ale every year since 1975, their recipe is never the same twice. This is intriguing, but at the same time I have to wonder if it lessens repeat customers; if a consumer finds the formula too hoppy in 2008, will she even bother trying it again in ‘09?

Looks: Anchor’s offering is a very deep, almost opaque red-brown beer. It pours with a medium-thick tan foam that turns into a lingering golden lace. There’s something oddly satisfying about a long-lasting cap like this, that leaves those little trails of bubbles along the sides of your glass as you drink.

Aroma: This beer has a surprisingly strong scent, mostly warm spices with notes of raisiny dried fruits.

Taste: Though the aroma is somewhat aggressive, this beer is rather light. The level of malty sweetness is much lower than its coloring would indicate; rather than the thick potpourri flavors present in other holiday brews, the taste most closely resembles a hoppy, lightly spiced wine. It finished crisp and clean, with almost no aftertaste at all.

Overall: To be honest, this beer was a disappointment. It’s not a bad beer, by any stretch. Quite the contrary, the relatively low 5.5% ABV and clean palate would make it ideal for nights when you’re in the mood for three or more; if not for my high expectations of cold-weather seasonals, I would be pleased. But if you’re looking for a beer that floods your mouth with the warm, heavy flavors of Christmas, you’d do better to look elsewhere. Better luck next year, Anchor.

Seasonal beers are an interesting breed. Spring seasonals tend towards the citrusy wheat side of things, while summers attempt to be as light as possible, sometimes sacrificing flavor in order to have a clean sensation on the palate. Aside from punchy offerings like Leinenkugel’s Summer Shandy and Abita’s Satsuma Harvest Wit, I don’t get very excited about seasonals from April through August. Given that I like things as bold, spicy and complex as possible, fall is when I start to pay attention again. Full-bodied Oktoberfests and pumpkin ales are on tap, and I perk up.

But when the pumpkin disappears and the words “Christmas” and “holiday” start appearing on labels, then I really can’t contain myself. The darker, maltier, and stronger, the better. Winter seasonals are the clear winners, in my book. So, since I’m pretty much trying a new one each week, I thought I’d parlay my obsession into a nice little featurette, Whine and Beer.

First up: the ubiquitous Great Lakes Christmas Ale.

Looks: Out of the bottle, the GL Christmas Ale is a coppery red, pouring with a low-density golden head that melts away fairly quickly to a thin white lace.

Aroma: For such a famously potent brew, this ale has a very mild, appealing scent: a creamy cinnamon, almost reminiscent of a chai tea.

Taste: This beer hits heavy: right up front, the most prevalent notes are ginger and the bite of the elevated alcohol content. But this initial taste fades away to softer spice notes, with a pleasant, lingering aftertaste due in part to the honey added during brewing. It’s a relatively sweet, malty ale, but the spiciness and the aforementioned high ABV keep it from cloying.

Overall: For a born-and-bred Ohioan, this is the classic winter seasonal, and it is famous for a reason. Big flavors, and even bigger booze, with a sneaks-up-on-you ABV of 7.5%. It’s a good gateway beer to heavier, bold options like porters and stouts. But in all seriousness, if you’ve got to drive yourself home from the bar, enjoy responsibly: this stuff adds up a lot faster than you think it will. (And the morning after’s no picnic, either.)

  (out of 5)

Black tea + apple cider + honey + lemon + whiskey + cinnamon stick = good for what ails you.

Cabo Cocina restaurant review (originally published, Yelp! 6/25/11)

I’ve visited several Mexican places in Columbus over the years: greasy campus staple Cazuela’s, overpriced, trendy Mad Mex, and the tasty but basic El Vaquero. Not bad food, but nothing to really get excited about (I’ve never exactly had an unbearable craving for a lard-infused chimichanga from Cazuela’s). One day, looking for somewhere a step up from the norm to try with my family, we came across Cabo Cocina.

We were excited to find out that this place serves mostly Baja-Mexican cuisine. Having been to Cabo San Lucas, Mexico, a couple of times, I can honestly say that Baja-style Mexican food is far and away my favorite; lots of fresh veggies and fish, tangy sauces, and all-around lighter fare than the usual beans-rice-cheese trifecta. Cabo Cocina did not disappoint. In addition to more traditional platters (burritos, chimichangas, etc), there’s a selection of taquiera-style tacos, unique entrees (some with Caribbean and Cajun fusion), and even a salsa bar.

Among the entrees I’ve tried, my favorite has to be the grilled Mahi-Mahi tacos. It’s nice to be able to get a fish taco without a ton of greasy breading, especially when topped with sweet-and-sour slaw and chipotle crema. I wasn’t completely impressed with my carnitas tacos last night, but most of that was buyer’s remorse for choosing corn tortillas over flour ones. I’ve also enjoyed their Caribbean-influenced honey-lime salmon with mango salsa, and my mother is so deeply in love that she has still not managed to order anything besides their seared Baja-style tuna with arepas.

Among the other pros, the view from the restaurant is spectacular, and their margaritas and sangrias are delicious and not too sweet. The biggest con for me would have to be that they are closed on Sundays, which happens to be the day my family most often tries to have dinner together in Columbus. Oh, well. I’ll be returning again soon on one of the other six days of the week.

Mad Mex restaurant review (originally published, Yelp! 6/21/11)

  (out of 5)

My first experience with Mad Mex was in January 2006 (I imagine not long after it first opened) on the night before my first time stepping onto Ohio State’s campus. I remember it clearly: I got their Thai Curry Burrito and, being only 17, glanced longingly at their draft beer list. I thought the meal was great. The atmosphere seemed so “college-y” to me, between the interesting/bizarre artwork, the prominent position of the bar, and the clientele. I made a mental note to visit often if I chose to attend Ohio State.

Five years later, my outlook has changed. Now, to be blunt, I’m over it. I made infrequent journeys to the restaurant throughout my time as a student, and now as an alum, I go for happy hour or burrito night every once in a while with friends. But I guess you could say the rose-colored glasses are off. The happy hour (for me, the half-off drafts are more attractive than the margaritas) is by far the best thing this place has going for it. They do keep a consistently high-quality and varied selection of craft beers on tap, which I appreciate. However, the food has fallen to the point of what I would reluctantly call “mediocre”.

A rule of thumb: do not, under any circumstances, order a normal burrito on their $6 all-you-can-eat burrito night. They will give you the same proteins used in the cheaper burritos (which a particularly unpleasant waitress actually TOLD us is day-old meat), fill your tortilla 3/4 of the way up with rice, and if you order a burrito with any veggies in it, as I did yesterday, you will be sorely disappointed with the results. I literally only found three spinach leaves in my burrito. THREE. Keep in mind, this thing was 6” long and 6” wide. Come on.

Safe bet: Go for happy hour, and get the Pickadippa salsa sampler if you get hungry. Their guacamole is more than passable, and they have a tasty and unusual black bean dip as well.

Better yet? Get your Mexican fix at Cabo Cocina on Riverside Drive, in Dublin. It’s a bit of a drive, but in terms of quality and variety, there’s no comparison.

In the event that my neglect has not scared off my meager readership, I humbly say: hello again!

It’s been an interesting six months. I got another temp job (this time with Nationwide), stayed there for four months, left the job and returned to the motherland (Dayton, OH) as the lease on my Columbus apartment drew to a close. In that span of time, I made a pretty big decision re: my future and the whole actually-working-towards-it thing.

I am going to go to culinary school, and from there find a way to directly link my love of writing and my love of cuisine in a glorious job-type union.

I am secure and certain that I need to combine my interests in this way: food, words, and maybe even words of the Italian variety. Ultimately working for the Food Network or some other sprawling, cultish foodie heaven, maybe? Writing recipes, testing recipes, reviewing restaurants…there are so many directions I could go with my happy little basket of skills.

(Side note: I was going to put a picture of Little Red Riding Hood here, but Google Images somehow came up with a picture of Red making out with the wolf and it was the worst thing ever and I will never be the same again :( )

The only thing missing from that happy little basket, and the reason for my seeking further education, is authoritative knowledge. I have a lot of culinary know-how to begin with, but being a foodgawker junkie who knows how to make a roux is not necessarily a showstopper on a resume. If there’s one thing I have learned in the past year (actually, I have learned a lot, I may have to write a blog post about Life Lessons), it is that finding a job you like is not just a matter of having the ability and desire to do a certain kind of work. People don’t have to take your word for it that you have a good work ethic and you aren’t crazy and you totally know everything there is to know about xyz (and they won’t).

You have to have something to show for it. For me, that something is a formal education in the culinary arts. I know there are plenty of people who worked their asses off and sent endless query letters to newspapers and magazines begging them to run their recipe/critique/captain’s log/dream journal, and began their careers that way, but education is not some terrible journey that you should skip if you can. This is exactly how I want to reach my goals. Not to get all rainbows and Hallmarks cards on you, but essentially I have to actually start becoming the person that I want to be. The girl with the awesome food writing gig needs to learn what the hell she’s talking about first: exposure to variety, understanding the techniques that build a perfect dish, knowing what a demi-glace is. Despite the reactions this revelation has brought about in my personal life (varying from unwavering support to skepticism to outright speechless shock, with the word “debt” being mentioned a lot across the spectrum), I know it’s the right thing for me to do.

Culinary school has been a secret wish of mine for a long time. Last summer, I had just graduated from Ohio State. Unlike some of my peers, I wasn’t celebrating my accomplishment, not really; I was feeling oddly shapeless and confused, scared even. What now? I had no end-game in sight, no specific ambition to work towards. Sometimes, I was manic; I would throw my resume all over the place, everywhere from dentists’ offices to restaurants. Other times, I would short-circuit, and a horrified mental paralysis would root me to the couch for days at a time. It was the most miserable I’ve ever been.

Without a car (for half the summer at least), and with everyone I knew already working or interning somewhere, my days were spent alone in my crummy apartment. The only thing that made me feel better was food. Not in the sense of eating my feelings, but in the sense of inviting Ina Garten and Anne Burrell into my living room to teach me things and keep me company. I would watch Food Network all day and then find something exciting to experiment with for lunch and dinner. It became more than a hobby, it was my sanity. I loved it, and since I already had two years of cooking for myself under my belt, I knew I was good at it. But I pushed away the thought of culinary school, time and time again, because it sounded silly. I wanted to make my family proud and become a productive member of society, and I thought the only way I could do that was to become a worker bee immediately, and the proper career would just sort of…follow.

I was wrong; I found, without a doubt, that I do not want to grasp at whatever job happens to fall into my reach. I need to do something I enjoy. That something is food, glorious food. And the thought of learning everything about it that I can, the thought of practical examinations about pastry cream and having to wear really goofy hats and probably lots of accidental cuts and burns and having flour in my hair all the time and maybe even having to eat mushrooms sometimes?

I CAN’T WAIT.

So this concludes my navel-gazing. My decision to go to culinary school in the next calendar year has almost nothing to do with my neglect of this blog, but I thought it might distract you and you’d forget that I’m a really rotten blogger.

:D

Yesterday, I went to the store. But before I did that, I spent probably about two hours attempting to plan a menu for the week, simultaneously trying to pick out intriguing/delicious/bloggable recipes and choosing things that would have crossover potential from day to day. This is due to a renewed desire to curb my food spending (my friend Marcus tells me he is down to ~$25 per week, which is absurd/amazing to me), thus leaving more money in the coffers for other things that I enjoy. 

One good thing about amping up my frugality in the summer months: lots of cheap, gorgeous fresh produce. Blueberries, for instance, are practically free right now ($1.50 per pint). So, combining my newfound miserliness and my vague goal of eating more fruit, I decided I needed to find a dinner recipe that could make use of summer’s bounty. I sort-of kind-of remembered my mom telling me about a barbecue sauce she made with blueberries a month or so ago that she could not stop raving about. She loved it so much I thought she might grab the jar and a spoon and kill it off. 

I found a pretty good recipe on Food & Wine and gave it the ol’ college-grad try.

I’ll add my usual disclaimer: the picture above simply does not do it justice. I’m a big proponent of using natural light to photograph food (adding in a flash tends to make things look extremely unappetizing and flat), but unfortunately I didn’t get dinner finished until about 8 pm, so natural light was sort of at a premium. The sauce is a much deeper and brighter purple-red than shown. (Also pictured: same old same old homemade ranch on iceberg.)

I made the same pan-seared chicken as used in the Cobb, shredded it a little, and completely drowned it in the above (really quite easy) sauce. Onions, jalapeno, ketchup, rice wine vinegar, sugar, dijon, Tabasco, and blueberries. So mothertrucking good.

I’m now going slightly crazy trying to figure out other ways to use this sauce, because I still have about a cup or so left (again, the woes of cooking for one). I’m honestly considering just heating up some flatbread and dipping it. Or drizzling it over cream cheese and eating it with crackers. Hmm.  Just so good. 

Had I a little more forethought, the following meal would have been absolutely perfect. Traditional Cobb salads require bacon to be considered complete, but every time I buy bacon it ends up going bad before I can use it all up. I’m just one woman, you know? 

Still, I think this turned out pretty much mouthwateringly amazing. Components are as follows: iceberg lettuce, cherry tomatoes, hardboiled egg (perfectly done, especially for my first time! Very impressed with myself), super ripe avocado, and, the best part, pan seared chicken, all drizzled with homemade chipotle ranch dressing.

You really figure out how much cooking methods matter in terms of flavor when you make something like that chicken breast. The ingredients couldn’t be simpler: you just put a light brush of olive oil, then salt and pepper on both sides of the breast, and then sear it for 4 minutes or so per side (it was a very thick slab of chicken). Because it did take so long to cook, I added a splash of white wine to deglaze the skillet a little, and I don’t know how much of an effect that had, but I ended up with perfectly browned, crispy chicken.