It's Not Even Noon Somewhere

Off the Map: The Judge Judy of the Culinary World

2012-03-07T19:27:00.002-05:00

Crab Cakes -- Pierpoint Restaurant, Baltimore, MD
Pierpoint Restaurant

Dear Chefs of the World,

If you have a nasty/cranky/generally unlikable demeanor, STAY IN THE KITCHEN and leave the front of the house to someone with a better affect.

In Other Words, If You're a CRABBY CAKE, Stay Away

Nancy Longo at Baltimore's Pierpoint Restaurant could benefit from taking this advice.

It is worthy to note that prior to entering Pierpoint, Vodka, quite literally. fell out of a pick-up truck. In fact, if Bloody Mary had not been standing is just the right position for Vodka to grab onto as she plunged out of the back seat, Ginger may have needed to find a new dining partner. It is in this state of hyped-up giggles that we enter Pierpoint, and a fellow customer at the bar looks at us quizzically.

"I'm having a bad night," Vodka explains.

And If Nancy Longo Has Her Way, It's About To Get Worse

"Already?!" he asks. We look at the time, certain that it is nearly midnight -- it's 6:30pm. (And considering Vodka's been up since 4:00am, it's no wonder she's started falling out of pick-up trucks).

Clearly She Needs Her Strength. Someone Hand This Girl a Carb

We take two stools at the bar next to what seems to be Pierpoint's "technology support center," based on the number of laptops that are inexplicably taking up bar seats (way to put the customers first, Pierpoint).

Seriously Now - What Is This About?! They're Taking Up Valuable Bar Real Estate

When the bartender comes to take our drink orders, we ask what kinds of flavored vodka they have. She answers "none."

Excuse me, lady, but the seven bottles of stoli behind you would indicate otherwise.

When Bloody Mary points out the stoli bottles, the bartender backtracks on her initial statement (though still doesn't seem to realize that these stoli bottles and "flavored vodka" are one and the same).

Here's Another Vocabulary Lesson, Lady: This Is Bread

We each ask for a wild cherry vodka soda, and Vodka heads to the bathroom in the back of the restaurant. On the way there, she gets in the way of at least three Pierpoint employees, who all seem to be in various states of "frazzlement." Bloody Mary confirms this phenomenon of employee run-ins when she makes her own trip to the restroom, and we are momentarily pleased that we have seats by the door (aka close to the exit should a problem break out in this ill-arranged firetrap).

Somebody Grab Us a Crab Cake on the Way Out

When Vodka returns from the bathroom, Bloody Mary is looking at her out of the corner of her eye, a look that wordlessly says, "We have a problem."

"She can't get it open," she whispers under her breath.

"What?"

"The bartender can't get the vodka bottle open." Vodka looks up to find a rotating cast of employees and then customers trying to pry open the stubborn bottle, all of whom are unsuccessful. When we agree to drink another flavor (for which -- call her crazy -- Vodka thinks we should have been given a discount), this compromise does not produce a much better result, as the bartender fills the glass essentially to the top with cranberry vodka, and adds merely a splash of (not even carbonated) soda.

The whole thing is pretty much a horror show.

And Wait til You Hear How Much These Debacles Cost. Just You Wait, Henry Higgins

Speaking of horror show, while Vodka was in the bathroom, she could hear that bartender telling none other than Nancy Longo herself that we want to sit at the bar even though we have a reservation, and "Is that okay?" Considering that every table in the restaurant is filled, Vodka is incapable of rationalizing why the bartender feels the need to run this matter by Ms. Longo. That is, until ten minutes later, when we get a first row seat to the workings of Crabbypants Longo.

Get It - CRABBYpants? So Clever

While back at the bar sipping our cranberry vodka-waters, another party arrives and tries to take up residence at the (empty) bar (while all of the tables in the restaurant, keep in mind, are still full). Crabbypants Longo, who has escaped from the kitchen once again, is giving them all sorts of grief over the scenario, though in a passive-aggressive, eye-rolling, pouting, and mumbling-under-her-breath fashion that no one can understand. Truth be told, we are loving this encounter, mostly because we enjoy drama that does not involve us, but still, the behavior is unacceptable. If we were the new customers (and were we not on this OCD-like mission), we would have walked out immediately upon encountering the highly disagreeable Crabbypants Longo, "world-renowned crab cakes" or not. As it stands, we're less than pleased with our own experience, and we haven't even received our food yet.

Get Back in the Kitchen and Plate Your Dishes More Symmetrically, Crabbypants

Eventually, our Best Thing I Ever Ate choice arrives: the crab cakes which Duff Goldman had chosen on the FOR BRUNCH episode. We have decided to order one regular and one smoked crab cake, which come with brussels sprout slaw, a corn cake, matchstick potatoes, and caper cornichon tartar.

Plate o' Beige

The crab cakes themselves are hearty and thick, the meat very fresh with just the slightest hint of a fried coating. Taking tastes of each, Vodka prefers the regular cake and Bloody Mary the smoked one (though to be honest, Vodka really just likes the tartar sauce. It is, after all, a condiment).

We'll Take a Whole Plate of Tartar Sauce Next Time, Thanks

The potatoes and brussels sprouts are both fine (though the latter seems a bit slimy), but it is obvious that the crab cakes themselves are supposed to be the stars here.

As an Aside, Please Note How Much of the Vodka "Soda" Has Been Consumed By This Point....

In fact, Bloody Mary enjoys the crab cakes much more than Vodka does (as Vodka believes that a bit more frying and breading never hurt anything). As the Baltimore resident, Bloody Mary says she would have come back for the crabby delicacies, but certainly not with the threat of the crabby chef's presence hanging over her head.

And then, there is the matter of our bill.

Now, for goodness sake, we have been known to throw down a lot more cash willingly for phenomenal food and beverages. But our grand total for two wrong-flavor vodka-waters and crab cakes? $49. Before tip. Each of our "cranberry waters" is $10, and the crab cakes are $29. This pricing is, in a word, outrageous. (Oh, and PS Pierpoint charged Bloody Mary's credit card TWICE, definitively nailing shut their reputation's coffin).

Frankly, it's a good thing that Pierpoint's crab cakes are as good as they are, because if they were even a smidge worse, our Pierpoint experience would be hovering strictly in 1-star territory.

Pierpoint Restaurant's Crab Cakes: 3 stars

Off the Map: If Tower of Terror Ever Opens a Restaurant...

2012-03-06T19:25:00.004-05:00

Goa Fish -- Ambassador Dining Room, Baltimore, MD
Ambassador Dining Room

Nothing like scaring a busboy half to death to kick off a meal.

Vodka and Bloody Mary arrive at Ambassador Dining Room in Baltimore fifteen minutes before our 5:00 reservation hoping to locate a bar. Instead, we find a completely empty restaurant situated beyond one of the top ten creepiest lobbies ever, as the Dining Room seems to be part of an apartment house.

What, Does No One Want to Eat Whole Fish Bodies Anymore?!

We stand at the hostess stand waiting for an employee to point us to the bar (of which we later learn there is none), and when a busboy finally emerges from the back, gripping a pitcher of water, he jumps a solid inch in the air at the sight of us.

Presumably He Thought the Ambassador Ghosts Had Finally Come to Haunt Him

He manages to pull it together long enough to send us back into the ghost-town of a lobby to wait for 5:00pm to arrive, which is where we decide that the Ambassador Apartments could rival the Omni Parker House on the eeriness scale. Dark with overly large, old-fashioned furniture, the lobby even features an ominous wooden "Manager" sign hanging above a ringing telephone (with no such "Manager" in sight).

The place is striaght out of Disney World's Tower of Terror.

The "Manager" Actually Died 400 Years Ago.... OoOooo....

Based on all of this "ambiance," imagine our surprise when we are finally escorted to our table at the back of the dining room, only to find a full, lush garden out the windows and multiple fireplaces framing our seats.

What a difference twenty feet can make.

No Hitchhiking Ghosts in These Parts

The Only Thing This Hearth Is Missing Is a Cat Basking In Its Warmth

Settling in, we (finally) order some cocktails -- red wine for Vodka (a generous pour - thanks Ambassador) and a ginger-based drink for Bloody Mary (Ginger would be so proud).

Goblet of Wine Dwarfing the Cocktail

We also ask for Duff Goldman's chosen Best Thing I Ever Ate SAUCED dish, the goa fish (a whole pan-fried fish topped with roasted garlic, tamarind, and scallion), along with chicken tikka masala and naan.

This Looks Excessively Like Something Oscar the Grouch Would Wrap Up in His Newspaper

The Standard "Least Scary" Indian Dish for Weak Palates

Truth be told, we are not overly excited at the promise of dining on a whole fish -- we don't particularly like to work for our food, and such a presentation seems to dictate a lot of effort (what with all the fish bones and all).

Mom, Please Cut Up Our Food

As we wait for our fish slaughter, we sip contentedly at our drinks and watch the busboys add an ever-increasing number of lit candles to the room, including on the window fixtures above our heads.

Precarious Lighting Fixtures

"I wish those candles on the windows weren't lit," Vodka says, breaking the mood. "I have highly flammable hair." Before Vodka can catch on fire, our complimentary bread basket arrives, which is full of potato and pea-stuffed naan (which, because we are morons, we at first mistake for the plain naan we have ordered).

It All Kinda Looks the Same from the Outside Though, Doesn't It?

When our entrees are placed before us, we immediately have entirely too many plates on the table. Between the whole fish, the chicken, each of our sides of rice and creamed spinach, and the plain naan, we barely know where to begin.

So Instead of Dealing with the Problem, We Do the Logical Thing: Drink More

Gingerly, Vodka begins peeling off pieces of the fish and handing them to Bloody Mary piecemeal. The fish itself is, thankfully, airy, light, and easy to break apart.

One Fish Two Fish Me Fish You Fish

The white meat is soft and pleasing, if a bit bland, as the outer layer of sauce has remained almost strictly on the fish skin.

Pucker Up

When we manage to taste the sauce, we find it excessively like soy sauce - salty and garlicky, and thus, in Vodka's opinion, delicious.

The Better to See You With, My Dear

By some miracle, we manage to make it through most of the fish with only one bone issue (courtesy of Bloody Mary), and while the fish was better than we had expected, we are not blown away.

Though We Do Know How to Make a Plate of Food Look Horrible

Similarly, the chicken tikka masala is tasty, if completely standard as far as we can tell, and we enjoy the bread basket naan ten times more than the plain variety we had ordered .

Naan in Need of Some Garlic Salt

The sides of rice and creamed spinach (at least, we think the green stuff has derived from spinach) is especially good, most likely because it features a carb, and we love a carb.

What's With the Solitary Pea?!

While the food overall is tasty enough, it seems that the one thing the Ambassador Dining Room has going for it is its scenery, what with the garden, fireplaces, and candles.

That is, if you can make it through the lobby without being kidnapped by a ghost.

Ambassador Dining Room's Goa Fish: 3 stars

Off the Map: Would You Be Interested in Tailgating?

2012-03-05T19:48:00.001-05:00

Chaps Special Submarine -- Chaps Pit Beef, Baltimore, MD
Chaps Pit Beef

Well, it's happened. Vodka has crossed an item off of her bucket list (that she never even wanted on her bucket list in the first place):

Vodka has ridden in a pick-up truck. Vodka has also "tailgated" in the flatbed trunk of a pick-up truck. Apparently, this is the kind of thing that happens when one goes to Chaps Pit Beef in Baltimore.

Vodka Probably Would Have Done Such Things at a Professional Football Game Had She Ever Agreed to Go to One

Best Thing I Ever Ate is sending Vodka to Chaps Pit Beef for the Chaps Special Submarine, a sandwich which consists of corn beef, ham, roast beef, and American cheese. Because Bloody Mary is being judgmental about Chaps's high class "reputation" (and in truth, because she wants to start cocktail consumption stat), she forces her friend to escort us to the establishment. Located on a highway, spewing smoke out of a multitude of chimney stacks, and nestled next to a strip club, Chaps Pit Beef is not exactly Le Bernardin.

James Beard Award Winner?

Keeping It Classy, Baltimore

Still, as Chaps features a long line of customers out the door, it seems Guy Fieri knew his stuff on the BETWEEN BREAD episode of Best Thing I Ever Ate.

And He's Apparently Intent on Proving It

What Is Sniveling?!

We snake our way into the restaurant, which features a small number of picnic tables scattered around two windows: one where you order and one where you pick up (the Baltimore version of a "drive-thru").

Would Be Easier If We Could Actually Drive Through in the Pick-Up Truck...

Vodka places an order for one special sub sandwich, and the pleasant woman behind the first window asks if it's okay that the sandwich comes with American cheese (so Chaps also suddenly keeps kosher practices?) and how we'd like our meat cooked (we say medium).

And With That, We're Overwhelmed

We loop around to the next window, and it then becomes obvious why Chaps is able to specify the degree to which a customer wants her meat cooked -- a giant display of simmering meats stands over smokers just inside the window, and shavings are removed for each individual sandwich. Vodka tries clandestinely to photograph the procedure, but when one of the cooks sees her, he leaps out of her way rather than block her view (Ginger could take a lesson from this man).

Meat-Fest Photo Op

As we wait for our sandwich, Vodka becomes obsessed with procuring plastic cups of condiments: ketchup, mustard, mayonnaise, BBQ sauce, and pickles are soon stacked in her arms, and when our sandwich is ready, we head outside.

Where we climb into the back of a pick-up truck to "tailgate."

One Always Needs Pickles When Dining in the Trunk

Now, climbing into a pick-up truck, for someone who has never done so, is no easy feat, and Vodka and Bloody Mary display as much grace as Tonya Harding when completing the procedure (after all, Vodka has her plethora of condiments to protect).

If Anything Should Happen, Save the Ketchup First

When we are properly assembled (and we take eighteen pictures of ourselves in the back of a pick-up, as this is a circumstance that is sure not to happen again any time soon), we unwrap our sandwich and gawk.

Flintstone-Sized Feast

First of all, while the special submarine itself is rather short and stout, it is packed to maximum capacity with the three varieties of meat, plus thick slivers of orange American cheese. Vodka spreads ketchup, mustard, mayonnaise, and pickles on her half, while Bloody Mary sticks with BBQ sauce. We clutch the roll together tightly and take our first hefty bites.

And tailgating never tasted so good.

"Meat" Me In Baltimore

Against our fears, the sandwich stays together pretty well, a feat we accredit to the roll, which is moldable without being soft, and clutches the meat much more tightly than a crispy Italian roll would.

The Roll Is Also Thankfully Devoid of Those Dreaded Sesame Seeds

The meat itself is ideally cooked -- tender and juicy without being runny, and featuring the faintest hint of smoke. We each find our respective condiments the ideal accompaniments, and we polish off the sandwich lickety-split.

Good Thing We Have Big Mouths

We also decide that contrary to our initial judgmental thoughts, Chaps Pit Beef submarine is the best thing we have ever eaten... in a pick-up truck parked next to a strip club.

Chaps Special Submarine: 4 stars

Off the Map: It's Never Good When White Rice Is the More Appealing Option

2012-03-01T18:06:00.002-05:00

A&M Crispy Beef -- Cafe Zen, Baltimore, MD
Cafe Zen

If there is one thing we have determined about Duff Goldman, it's that his taste fluctuates from the highest of highs (Morimoto) to the lowest of lows (Franklin Fountain). Unfortunately, at this particular point in our Best Thing I Ever Ate journey through Baltimore, we are on a downward swing.

We've Evolved from Pig Slop to Dog Food

After an unsatisfying meal at Golden West Cafe, Vodka and her friend, Bloody Mary, head to Cafe Zen, a nondescript Chinese Restaurant along a strip of even less remarkable stores in yet another odd section of town. At the heart of lunchtime on a Saturday, the place is empty save for one lone table, and the hostess gives us our pick of seats.

Happening Place You've Got Here, Baltimore

We sit ourselves in the back corner booth and order one serving of the Crispy A&M Beef, as recommended by Duff on the WITH CHOPSTICKS episode of Best Thing I Ever Ate. The dish is subtitled "candy beef," because it is supposed to be just as addicting as sugary snacks.

This Doesn't Exactly Look Like a Jolly Rancher to Us

With any luck, it is more appealing than the Cafe Zen bathroom, which is about as run-down and shabby as one can imagine. In truth, the rest of the restaurant has not fared much better, giving the term "hole in the wall" new meaning, as there do appear to be actual holes in the wallpaper.

Why Preschoolers Shouldn't Be Allowed to Decorate Restaurant Walls

Our cups of water and plate of beef soon arrive, and we fear we are about to continue our pattern of having lukewarm dining experiences when devoid of alcohol. There is a hefty portion of beef piled up on the plate, with very few carrot and celery shavings sprinkled on top. The meat has an orange tint from the honey sauce, and the platter looks remarkably like a crispy beef entree that Vodka consumed at Shun Lee in Manhattan a few years back.

Sadly, Cafe Zen and Shun Lee are not exactly equal partners in the art of Asian cuisine.

Upscale Chinese Fare, This Is Not

Taking our first bites, our mouths are greeted by the slightly tangy sweetness that coats the best crispy entrees. We chew through our strings of beef, waiting for the actual meat to appear under the thick coating of batter.

No meat is ever found.

Thanks for the Pile of Breading Though, Cafe Zen

By our second pieces, we realize that this crispy beef is suffering from two major problems: it is all but missing its main component (the beef), and it tastes burnt. An overall hint of char remains on our taste buds long after each bite is swallowed, and we are becoming increasingly appalled.

If We Weren't Ladies, We'd Say Exactly What Those "Beef" Pieces Look Like....

While the dish that Vodka remembers from Shun Lee was shiny, smooth, vaguely crunchy yet tender on the inside, this "beef" (if we can even call it that) is sticky, hard, and remains in the crevices of our teeth like taffy ("candy beef," indeed).

What's the Zodiac Sign for "Awful"?

Less than halfway through the dish, we both begin scooping forkfuls of white rice in our mouths as a more palatable alternative, knowing that it's never a positive sign when the bland accompaniment is considered the more pleasant portion of a dish.

Anyone Have Any Butter and Salt to Go With Our Rice?

When we have leaned back in our booth benches in various states of disgust, the waitress comes over and asks how everything was.

Our Fortunes Should Have Warned Us About This Place

"It was... okay...," Vodka says in the decidedly cryptic tone that anyone with solid customer service skills, not to mention eyes to spot the mound of crispy beef remaining on our plate, would pick up on.

"Do you want to wrap this to go?" the waitress plows through, ignoring Vodka's obvious displeasure.

Does It LOOK Like We Want to Take This to Go?!

"No!" we answer. After all, it was bad enough to taint our Cafe Zen experience with such so-called "food." The last thing we want to do is tarnish our own refrigerators with the same burnt pile of honey-crusted mystery meat.

Vodka's Fortune = The Best Thing About This Place

Cafe Zen's A&M Crispy Beef: 2 stars

Off the Map: Can We Have Some Forks? And Some Flavor?

2012-02-29T19:39:00.004-05:00

Huevos Montulenos -- Golden West Cafe, Baltimore, MD
Golden West Cafe

For the record, it is not easy to eat a pile of slop sans a fork. We now have a new respect for pigs.

Vodka and her Baltimore-residing friend, Bloody Mary, are at Golden West Cafe for the third stop on our whirlwind tour of Baltimore Best Thing I Ever Ate locations, and almost instantly, we smell trouble.

Mmm, The Smell of Deer Carcass in the Morning

Perched on the two bar stools furthest from the action, we are surrounded by images of antlers and multi-colored lanterns, and apparently, we are also "the forgotten ones." At least that's what we discern for how long it takes us to procure two cups of coffee.

Starbucks-Level Waiting Period, Non-Starbucks-Level Results

In a wise but disheartening decision, we have agreed not to drink this round in order to try to preserve both our stamina and Bloody Mary's lack of DUIs. However, our once chipper (okay, "chipper" is relative in this case) attitudes deteriorate so rapidly within the walls of Golden West Cafe that we soon realize we have made the wrong choice with our non-spiked coffee.

We Need Some Liquid Courage to Get Through This Decor

Placing an order for Duff Goldman's favorite WAKE UP CALL dish, the huevos montulenos, we are optimistic that this "breakfast" will turn our downward spiral around. Unfortunately for all involved, it ends up having the opposite effect.

Ina Garten Would Not Approve of This Plating "Style"

When the platter is placed in front of us, we both stare at it blindly for two reasons:
1. We can't distinguish half of the food on the plate.
2. We are without silverware, so what else is there to do but look at the thing?

We Are Presumably Supposed to Dive In Snout-First

Vodka, ever patient (ahem), tries multiple times to get someone -- anyone -- to hand over some forks. When we finally receive our long-awaited utensils, we are almost sorry, as they bring us to the first bite of the huevos montulenos.

And the huevos montulenos are not good.

Its Aesthetics Should Have Been a Tip-Off to That Point

According to the Golden West Cafe menu, the huevos montulenos contain whole kernel corn cakes, two sunny-side-up eggs, black or pinto beans (note: we were not given a choice and received pinto), red or green chile sauce (again, no option was given -- we had green), feta cheese, salsa fresca, a fried banana, and a flour tortilla. You know what all of these things look like on a single plate? A mish-mosh of mess.

The Homemade Tortilla = The Only Decent Thing about this Meal

At first, even after receiving our forks, we are unsure as to how we're supposed to eat this thing -- do we wrap up the components in the tortilla like a fajita? Pinch bites between our fingers? Scoop it onto our forks like civilized people? We are at a loss. Asking the bartender provides no help in this matter, as she "has never had it" so thinks we "can eat it however we want." Thanks for the insight, lady.

So Even the Golden West Employees Won't Eat This...?

We decide that, rather than acting like cavemen, we will use the forks for which we have been waiting so long. And the first bite provides us with a strong and unmistakable flavor: spice. Not satisfying-kick-in-the-pants spice. Not burn-your-mouth-off-in-one-forkful spice. Just spice. No subtlty, no nuance. Only pure, unadulterated chiles.

The further we attempt to make our way through the plate, the more disappointed we become: the corn cakes are vaguely cold and fall apart into their respective kernels every time a fork touches them; the eggs are way overcooked and not a single hint of a runny yolk can be found (needless to say, Ginger would be pleased); the feta cheese is so minimal that we would not even had known it was present had the menu not told us so; and the fried bananas are off-puttingly sweet, forcing us to make every effort to avoid even the sight of them.

Now Doesn't This Look Appetizing?

We believe this dish is supposed to be some form of a "hangover cure," but Bloody Mary has no qualms about stating, "I am very hungover and this isn't doing it for me." By the end of our "meal," at least three-quarters of the huevos montulenos remain on the plate, and we are making various facial contortions to express our displeasure. As we gather up our belongings and slither off our barstools, Vodka has only one conclusion on our disappointing Golden West Cafe outing: "This is what happens when we don't drink."

Golden West Cafe's Huevos Montulenos: 2 stars

Off the Map: Nothing Like Cocktails and Ice Cream at 11am

2012-02-28T19:26:00.004-05:00

CMP -- Woodberry Kitchen, Baltimore, MD
Woodberry Kitchen

Woodberry Kitchen is apparently one of Baltimore's most prized establishments. Unfortunately for all involved, we are here merely to drink cocktails and eat ice cream. This plan would not be so bad if it were not 11:00am on a Saturday morning, and everyone we encounter is looking at us like we are some combination of "hungover" and "a mess" (in truth, Bloody Mary is, in fact, mildly hungover).

Ten Times More Effective Than Coconut Water

The restaurant is located in an area of Baltimore that can only be described as "random," as there is seemingly nothing else around.

Baltimore's Hottest Brunch Spot?

Woodberry Kitchen itself is stationed in what appears to be an abandoned warehouse, yet its decor is more quaint and barn-like than industrial.

Old McDonald Had a Cocktail

"What Took You So Long in the Bathroom?!" "I Was Taking Pictures"

We check in for our "reservation," and Vodka guiltily informs everyone we encounter that "We only want to eat the CMP."

Breakfast of Champions

When we are seated at our table (even though we have offered multiple times to camp out at the bar), we get right down to the business of ordering our cocktails (a hot toddy for Vodka and a bloody mary for, of course, Bloody Mary) and our CMP.

"And If You'd Like to Spike Our Ice Cream While You're At It, We Won't Argue"

Our waiter, slightly confused, retreats with our order before returning with the question, "Excuse me, you want the CMP NOW?!" Vodka confirms this fact to be true, which leaves Bloody Mary burying her face in embarrassed giggles.

Being a newbie to these Best Thing I Ever Ate proceedings, she is not yet aware that the one thing you can never have when ordering ludicrous combinations of dishes at absurd times is shame.

Here's a Tip, Mary: Embrace the Crazy

"It's ice cream, right?" she asks. Vodka nods, checking the time just as our cocktails arrive: 11am -- perfect for drinks and dessert.

And This Hot Toddy Could Pass for A Spot of Tea Anyway

The bloody mary is, well, "Bloody Mary approved" -- spicy and peppery, it seems to be doing much to revive her from the previous night's overindulgence.

Bloody Mary Has Met Her Match

In contrast, Vodka's hot toddy is warm and comforting, tasting decidedly like a cup of tea with a solid input of alcohol. When the CMP -- a towering glass filled with malt ice cream, chocolate sauce, wet peanuts, marshmallow fluff, and burnt sugar -- arrives, we have almost been lulled into a contented stupor.

Key Word: ALMOST

The visual of the ice cream glass alone is enough to explain why Duff Goldman singled it out on the SUGAR RUSH episode of Best Thing I Ever Ate. The portions are extremely generous, so much so that we are incapable of, as Duff had instructed, diving our spoon far enough into the glass to retrieve all of the contents at once.

No Problem; We'll Just Start at the Top

Vodka taps the top layer of burnt sugar like a snare drum until it breaks into triangles.

How Do We Get In This Thing?!

Victory!

We reach our spoons through layers of marshmallow, peanuts, chocolate, and finally, ice cream (followed by more chocolate and peanuts). The overall effect is just about everything Duff had described -- gooey, sweet, crunchy, and sticky all at once.

The Only Kind of Ice Fishing We Like to Do

Bloody Mary is especially taken with the top layers of burnt sugar and marshmallow (and finds that the dessert loses some of its luster when it is gone), and Vodka with the ice cream itself (which is a flavor we could not figure out was malt until we read about it -- the ice cream tasted more like a (splendid) blend of vanilla and coffee).

Time to Invest In Some Larger Mouths

Overall, the dessert is good -- exceptional, even -- and one we are sure we could enjoy again at a slightly more appropriate time of day.

And With an Identical Glass Filled with Booze

When we get up to leave, Vodka's napkin falls off of her lap directly into Bloody Mary's path.

"You dropped your napkin," Bloody Mary informs her with disdain. Vodka, slightly wobbly from her hot toddy and sugar high, stoops down to retrieve it, certain in the fact that this is just the kind of thing that happens when you have cocktails and ice cream at 11am.

And naturally, she has no shame about it at all.

Woodberry Kitchen's CMP: 4 stars

Off the Map: They Could've Spared a Pickle

2012-02-27T19:34:00.002-05:00

Brisket -- Edmart Deli, Pikesville, MD
Edmart Deli

"I forget this about you: you don't actually like people. And that's why we're friends."

And so begins Vodka's 24-hour food spree around Baltimore.

Good Morning, Baltimore. Here's the Brisket That Lives Next Door

Vodka is in town visiting one of her oldest and dearest friends -- well, if 'dear' can be defined by such antics as blaring the car horn at the MegaBus stop by way of greeting. Said friend, who is insisting on being referred to in this blog as "Bloody Mary," is also a New Jersey native, and is therefore hesitant about the mission of the day because she fears that it will involve interacting with a lot of people (a happenstance that we "affable" New Jerseyans try to avoid at all costs).

How Bloody Mary forgot that Vodka lacks much in the 'friendliness' department is beyond us.

Anyway, after multiple wrong turns and a few complaints about why Duff Goldman has sent us to Pikesville in the first place, we end up at Edmart Deli. Actually, we end up in a strip mall parking lot across from Edmart Deli, which Bloody Mary points out, based on our mutual New Jersey roots, is the perfect way to begin the day.

If This Were a Diner Instead of a Deli, We'd Feel Even More at Home

We enter Edmart's and place our order for one brisket sandwich on rye with tiger sauce, as per Duff's instructions on the AT A DELI episode of Best Thing I Ever Ate. The man taking the orders is not only about as pleasant as us, but completely lackadaisical about the fact that we are ordering a thick, meaty sandwich at 10:30 in the morning. The store itself is stocked with typical deli wares, and thankfully, it is virtually empty. Vodka approaches the counter to pay for our sandwich and two Snapples, and it soon becomes clear why the price tag for these three measly items is quite high for Maryland standards:

The proprietors are originally from New York.

Which Also Explains the "Charming" Attitude of the Sandwich Maker

We discover this fact when the lady at the cash register asks Vodka, seemingly out of no where, "Are you here from out of town?" Whether this line of questioning arose from Vodka's sour expression, desire for mid-morning brisket, or penchant for photographing Edmart's "Best of Baltimore" signs is unclear, but the lady clearly has her pegged as a foreigner. She then reveals that Edmart Deli's roots, and meat, come from New York originally, and therefore, the $13 price tag begins to make sense (thank you, New York City inflation).

So What You're Saying Is the Locals DON'T Normally Take Pictures of Your Signage?

We retreat to Bloody Mary's car, where Vodka makes a spectacle of herself by photographing our meal on the dashboard, completely unaware that there are two Baltimore residents stationed in the car directly across, completely confused (some would say "perturbed") as to why they are having their picture taken through the windshield (truth be told, we are lucky we weren't jumped for our high-price meat).

Nothing Like Getting Killed for the Sake of a Photo Op

Diving into our sandwich, we find unbelievably fresh rye bread -- soft and supple and able to blend perfectly with the brisket meat. We are so taken with the bread, in fact, that the brisket itself almost becomes an afterthought.

WonderBread Indeed

"It's very good... for brisket," Vodka ventures. This comment results in an inexplicable burst of laughter from Bloody Mary, followed by an accusatory, "How many times have you had brisket?!"

As If Brisket Is A Dish That Belongs on 'Man Vs. Food'

Vodka, mid-chew, is rendered incapable of answering, so she merely holds up varying numbers of fingers until Bloody Mary is forced to guess, "Once? Twice? Three times?"

"A lady," Vodka completes the lyric. Despite our apparent dearth of past brisket-consumption, we decide this meat is remarkably tender and easy to consume, if grossly lacking in tiger sauce ("I knew he was going to be skimpy with that tiger sauce," Bloody Mary comments in what is usually Vodka's tone of judgment).

Never Lay Low on the Condiments with Us Around

We are satisfied, if mildly unimpressed, with our first Maryland Best Thing I Ever Ate meal of the day, especially when Vodka stuffs our trash back into the Edmart Deli paper bag with the following quip of dissatisfaction: "You would think they could've spared a pickle."

Edmart Deli's Brisket: 3 stars

This Dish Is Our New Favorite Word: Misguided

2012-02-21T19:33:00.002-05:00

Arroz de Pato -- Aldea
Aldea

"I assume you have a life, but in case not, do you want to go to dinner tomorrow?" Ginger emails Vodka Thursday afternoon. Thankfully, Vodka has no such thing, so she instantaneously answers "Yes," and we decide to head to Aldea for Frank Bruni's chosen Best Thing I Ever Ate BIRD IS THE WORD dish, the arroz de pato.

The Benefits of Having No Life

Now duck, so far, has not treated us very kindly on this mission, but we are hoping we can blame this track record on Buddakan and not on the poultry itself. What is also not helping our case on this particular night, however, is that we have both, separately and inexplicably, been is foul moods for the majority of the week.

Or in Our Case - Fowl Moods. Heh Heh

Ginger is blaming her hostility on an overall lack of carbs, and Vodka, simply on the fact that we are crazy ("Well, that too," Ginger answers, "But also the bread."). For this reason, when we belly up to the bar and the bartender holds a platter of four varieties of bread products in front of us, we finagle our way into trying one of each ("We're not really a 'one piece per person' place anyway," the bartender informs us. Our kind of policy).

An Image of Gluttony

Said bread is served seconds after the arrival of the cheese plate we have ordered, but instead of pairing the two entities, we find ourselves carb-loading all four varieties into our mouths at rapid-fire pace, the cheese nearly forgotten.

And Never in Our Lives Have We Forgotten About Cheese

One of the options, a cornbread soaked in bacon renderings, we believe holds the most potential for greatness, and so Vodka takes a deep, hearty bite.

And she instantly clamps her mouth shut.

Bacon Bread? What Could Go Wrong?

"Is it good?" Ginger asks, not sure whether to interpret Vodka's face as horror or ecstasy. Vodka shakes her head back and forth slowly. "Well, no wonder it's unlimited," Ginger reasons, yet unfortunately, this is not the end of our bread drama of the evening.

Easy to Give Away Free Things When They're All Different Degrees of "Adequate"

While the three other varieties (a brioche, a baguette, and an olive roll) are all various states of "fine" (the baguette proves to be the most successful), as is the accompanying olive oil, we are at another stand-off over the walnut version that has come with the actual cheese.

Aldea Seems to Be Suffering from a Case of "Too Much Bread in the Kitchen"

Taking her first bite, Vodka observes, "This has nuts in it."

This statement is followed immediately, in unison, with:

Ginger: "Yes, it's delicious."
Vodka: "I hate nuts."

Truth be told, with tastes like these, it's amazing we've made it through this many dishes without a fistfight.

With Tastes Like These, It's Also Amazing We're Friends In the First Place

Onto the cheese plate, which includes a blue cheese, a soft goat-like cheese, and a hard, cheddar-like cheese (clearly, we can't distinguish cheeses unless they're blue): all are tasty enough, though we are especially taken with the lone hard cheese on the platter (and Ginger enjoys the accompanying triangles of membrillo-like jam, though Vodka finds them useless).

With So Much Bread and Cheese to Be Had, Who Needs Jelly?

Similarly, our cocktails are satisfying, if nothing to write home (or in this case, to AA) about -- Ginger's tastes appropriately like ginger, and Vodka's, in a true "I've had a tough week" divergence from her usual vodka, like tequila.

Though We Do Enjoy the Metal Straw That Accompanies Vodka's Choice

Finally, we are served our Best Thing I Ever Ate reason for being here: the arroz de pato, featuring duck confit, chorizo, clementines, and olives. Pretty enough, the dish looks like a cross between paella and pork fried rice, and because we love a carb, we are optimistic that this rice will prove appropriately pleasing.

It does not.

To Sum Things Up in a Nutshell and All

Vodka takes one forkful, and confirming that all the bread in the world has not yet raised her from her funk, states, with mild hostility, "I don't like it." It seems Vodka's first bite has included a healthy dose of the yellow sauce that is dolloped around the plate, which we're assuming are the clementines but taste more like lemons. This sauce seems excessively sweet for this savory dish.

Yellow Dollops of Sugary Not-Goodness

As we manage to eat around the "frosting," we find the duck itself to be extremely well-cooked (as in tender and juicy, not dry and chewy), and the rice, appealingly sticky with a tangy bite. The chorizo, sliced super thinly, adds more spice than one would assume it would be capable of in such a form, which is more than we can say for the bits of crispy duck skin, which taste like, well, nothing.

Perhaps Mustard Would Have Made a Better Yellow Condiment Choice

"This whole lemon thing is misguided," Ginger states, tossing her fork with disdain. It seems "misguided" has crept into her lexicon recently and taken up residence as her favorite word ever, and the term is now catching, as one thing then another, including Aldea's chef, becomes "misguided."

You see, earlier in the evening, Vodka had spotted said chef, George Mendes, lingering near the bar.

"I think he was our waiter somewhere else," she whispers. "Oh no, wait - he was on Top Chef or something."

"I like that you assumed he was our waiter, like everyone is always here to serve us," Ginger smirks.

This Is the Kind of Logic That Occurs When One's Bloodstream Is Filled with Tequila

When we figure out that Mendes is actually the chef of this place, we begin to notice him, throughout our meal, perched in various points of the restaurant, texting on his phone.

"What is he doing?! He should be somewhere making this dish better!" Ginger exclaims, and with that, we decide it is time to leave.

After One Cocktail Each and Everything

When we receive our bill, we learn that Aldea has recently started the policy of taking 20% off all food served at the bar, a concept that not only thrills us, but is also the first thing all week that neither of us can even dare to call "misguided."

Aldea's Arroz de Pato: 3 stars

I'll Definitely Come Back Here. Maybe Tomorrow

2012-02-09T20:35:00.000-05:00

Steakburger and Vanilla Coke -- Steak 'n Shake
Steak 'n Shake

As children of the East Coast, we are unaccustomed with the upscale fast food burger joints that populate other portions of the country. It seems that while we were spending our Osh Kosh days at McDonald's and Wendy's, our friends in the other parts of the country could be found at the likes of In-N-Out, Steak 'n Shake, and other restaurants that use only the letter N as a conjunction.

The N Stands for "Needs More Napkins"

Our fascination with these kinds of chains is the reason we could be found chowing down at In-N-Out Burger at 11am on a Sunday in Phoenix, hours before departing for the Animal Style-deprived New York.

The Soul Benefit of West Coast Living

When we returned to the city, we were delighted to find that while we can't eat the West Coast's choice burgers whenever we like, the island province of Manhattan has been gifted with the Midwestern equivalent, a Steak 'n Shake.

So, What Is This? Rib-Eye on a Bun?

Located in the heart of midtown, Steak 'n Shake stands directly next to David Letterman's studio, in an area of the city (where, it bears pointing out, every tourist in the world manages perfectly well to maneuver in) that Ginger cannot quite figure out. By the time she arrives outside Steak 'n Shake, a slightly shivering Vodka is convinced that Ginger's alleged "I got lost" ruse was actually an attempt to make Vodka gain some retroactive sympathy for Ginger's hatred of patio dining.

For the Record, Her Ruse Did Not Work

We enter and are handed a menu, and we find a line to order which is blessedly only one person deep instead of wrapped around the block (we're looking at you, Shake Shack). Based on Marc Summers's choice on the BETWEEN BREAD episode of Best Thing I Ever Ate, we know we have to eat a steakburger and a vanilla Coke. In addition, we decide to try one of their milkshakes, since everyone and their mother seem to be drinking one in the place.

Our Milkshake Brings All the Steaks to the Yard

When we reach the counter and order two Signature burgers with fries, a vanilla Coke, and a vanilla milkshake, we are assaulted with the question, "Do you want ketchup, mustard, and mayonnaise on your burger?" Vodka answers "Yes," but Ginger, completely overwhelmed, denies the mayonnaise.

"I love mayonnaise," she comments later. "What was I thinking?"

Clearly, we are not from the Midwest.

And Clearly, We Still Have Trouble with Napkin Use

This fact is again evidenced when we are handed a cup with which to procure our own vanilla Coke. Staring at the soda machine like it is a contraption out of Back to the Future, we manage to pour ourselves a large cup of diet vanilla with the adeptness of two nursing home residents manning the remote control.

R2D2 Soda Machine

As it happens, we soon notice that one of Steak 'n Shake's employees appears to have been tasked with cleaning said soda machines over and over, as he does so multiple times as we wait for our food. Apparently, they take their soda dispensers very seriously in the middle of the country.

It Is Only By the Grace of the Steak 'n Shake Gods That We Managed This

We saddle up to a counter to wait for our Olive Garden-like buzzers to vibrate, noticing that if the Manhattan incarnation of Steak 'n Shake is lacking anything, it is seating. All of the twelve total chairs in the place are occupied, and we decide that if this Steak 'n Shake wishes to keep their diners' tushes content, they better hope Mayor Bloomberg expands his Times Square picnic tables all the way up to Harlem.

And Also, Fill Your Fries to the Top. Just Sayin'

Eventually, our buzzers go off and we retrieve our burgers, fries, and milkshake. And let us begin with the least exciting items before us: the beverages. First of all, the diet vanilla Coke is refreshing enough, and certainly a novelty. We had also noticed that there are dozens of varieties of drinks to choose from in the sparkling clean soda dispensers, including such options as raspberry Coke, so we could someday do the Steak 'n Shake version of a wine pairing.

The milkshake is so thick that it is served with both a straw and a spoon. Covered in a fair amount of whipped cream and topped with a cherry, it is tasty and sweet, but certainly no better than other milkshakes we've had (including those at our own childhood version of Steak 'n Shake, the esteemed McDonald's).

Pretty Pretty Please with a Cherry on... Well, Not Quite the Top

Additionally, there are large chunks of a frozen substance within the shake that we at first assume are ice chips, but we later think might be unblended cream, and while this is not off-putting, it is just not the sort of milkshake we're used to.

Rather Small Spoon Circumference Considering the Milkshake, No?

Next up: the fries. The fries are cut into very petite stalks and do not harbor much of a crunch. However, they still manage to provide a necessary kick of salt and grease to the meal (and are ten times superior, in Ginger's opinion, to the accordion fries served at Shake Shack).

Bet You Can't Eat Just One

And finally, we have our steakburgers. Now we have been known to doubt a few of Marc Summers's other Best Thing I Ever Ate choices in the past, but with this burger, he officially redeems himself. To begin with, the burger is monstrous: a double patty of meat, ample pickles, juicy tomato, unbelievable amounts of cheese, and a very green lettuce leaf (plus our chosen condiments) stand stacked between a memory foam-like bun.

Thank You For the Lack of Unnecessary Sesame Seeds

"This lettuce is probably going to be the only vegetable I eat all week," Ginger notes as she dives in for her first bite. We ooh and ahh immediately -- the surefire sign that this dish is going to end up with a high star rating.

Thanks for the Green, Steak 'n Shake. Makes Us Feel Healthy

"I think this is delicious," Vodka states. "And not just because the only things we've been eating for dinner all week are nachos and Easy Mac." Indeed, our culinary intake for the past few days has not been on the winning side of gourmet, and Steak 'n Shake may just be benefitting from being a food that doesn't come out of plastic wrap.

We Prefer Food Wrapped in Paper and Styrofoam

Still, we are convinced that this burger is one of the best of this level that we have ever tasted, and it is completely on par with the excellence of In-N-Out. While the meat itself is juicy and well-seasoned, it is the plethora of toppings that we find most pleasing (even if it does make for a difficult burger to consume neatly, especially without the benefit of a chair).

Burger Performing the Slip 'n Slide (Get It with the 'N?)

As we remark on how much we're enjoying our first Steak 'n Shake experience, a Taylor Swift song comes over the loudspeaker, and this seals the deal. Not only does Steak 'n Shake make superior burgers, but they also have stupendous taste in music.

You Belong With Me, Indeed

We finally get ready to leave when a hotel doorman comes in to pick up his Steak 'n Shake meal to-go.

"Look, if the bellhops love it, you know it must be good," Ginger reasons, and Vodka is too tickled by the fact that Ginger has pulled the word "bellhop" out of a 1957 vocabulary book to concentrate on the contents of her statement.

When Vodka manages to pull herself together, we walk out onto the sidewalks of midtown, and she comments, like a true overeater, "I'll definitely come back here. Maybe tomorrow."

And with that, two new Midwesterners by way of Manhattan are christened, Steak 'n Shake-style.

Steak 'n Shake's Steakburger and Vanilla Coke: 5 stars*

*Certifiable Best Thing We Ever Ate

Off the Map: Fire Up the Sticky Buns

2012-02-08T17:37:00.000-05:00

Sticky Buns -- El Chorro Lodge, Paradise Valley, AZ
El Chorro Lodge

Sorry Bobby Flay, but Beau MacMillan knows better sticky buns than you do.

And/Or Bobby Just Hasn't Been to Arizona Yet

As our last stop on our whirlwind Phoenix tour o' food, we wind up at El Chorro Lodge in Paradise Valley, known especially for their first-rate sticky buns which are served free with every meal (a la BLT Steak popovers).

Stick to Our Thighs, Please

The ambiance of El Chorro Lodge is like none we have encountered so far in Arizona, and we are instantly in love with the outdoor fireplaces and twinkling Christmas lights.

"We Need to Get Close to the Fire, Like in Little House on the Prairie."

Trust Us When We Say It Was More Appealing in Person

Well, Vodka is in love -- Ginger, she of poor cold tolerance, wants to sit inside.

Once again, Ginger's opinion on the seating matter abates when she is promised a table close to the fire and outdoor heating lamps, though it is all she can do to not drag the portable heater from the hostess area with her as well. When we reach our table, Ginger cozies up to the fireplace while Vodka begins removing layers of clothing, menopause-style.

Better To Heat Your Sticky Buns With, My Dear

We get down to the business of placing our drink orders and are, in true Arizona form, carded ("We have been carded by every place in this state"). As Vodka fishes for her ID, she sends our waiter on an exploratory mission to find out what kind of flavored vodkas El Chorro Lodge offers for her new favorite cocktail, vodka soda.

It's Like Drinking Water. Delicious, Alcoholic Water

Settling on the raspberry vodka, and Ginger on wine (served in such a sturdy wine glass that we're convinced they knew her clumsy arms were coming), we toast a successful trip to the west.

Glasses Built for Street-Toughs

And this is all before the arrival of the sainted sticky buns.

Now THAT Is Some Goo Worth Getting Sticky Over

Prior to us trying Beau MacMillan's chosen Best Thing I Ever Ate BANG FOR THE BUCK dish, our friend has decided to go to battle with the waiter over our entree choices. Wishing to order the buffalo burger but not wanting to eat yet another round of French fries, she would like a substitute side. The waiter says this is not possible, until our friend bullies him into serving her scalloped potatoes instead. We observe this proceeding with shock, both because we think the non-substitution rule is standard practice, and because if anyone is supposed to be causing issues at this table, it is us.

We're Not Used to Being Considered the Non-Problematic Side of the Table

When El Chorro Lodge extends an olive branch in the form of the basket of sticky buns, we can barely get a hold of ourselves in an effort to stuff dozens of them in our mouths.

Feel Free to Send Over Twelve More Baskets, Thanks in Advance

In comparison to Flour Bakery's massive, nutty, and dry variety, El Chorro's buns are small and sweet. Neither chewy nor yeasty, the dough is tender, and the whole thing tastes more like a lip-smacking cinnamon bun. The cores of the buns are especially flavorful, and unlike at Flour, the goo has seeped all the way through the entire cake. These bite-size buns could turn into an addiction quickly, and it is probably for the best that we live across the country from their place of creation.

The Heart of the Matter

Surprisingly, though the concept of a dessert-like appetizer does not appeal to us in theory, these sticky buns are not so overtly sweet that they turn us off from the platter of grilled cheese that follows them. Featuring three varieties of goopy and fried mini-sandwiches, the grilled cheese is nearly as enjoyable as the sticky buns.

And Also Pre-Divided, Which Is Especially Useful for Our Lack of Knife Skills

For our "dinner", we split the buffalo burger (WITH French fries - we are of the persuasion that one can never have too many fries) and the chicken enchiladas. When she sees the platters arriving, Ginger begins frantically clearing her place at the table with the announcement "Food's here!" (said as if we have not been eating non-stop for two days straight). This comment sends Vodka into an inexplicable burst of giggles as she pictures us assembling at the pig trough for "feeding time." Said giggles last so long that Vodka's eyes begin seeping with tears, and this is even before she sees what Ginger has done to our burger plate.

SHE CUT THE BURGER IN HALF

It seems that, in her excitement to eat yet again, Ginger has forgotten the picture-policy concerning our food and has taken her knife to the burger, cutting it in two before Vodka has had a chance to photograph it.

Grounds for Blog Excommunication

"Really?!" Vodka, finally snapped out of her private giggle fest, says in her most accusatory tone. "After all this time, how could you?!"

The burger itself is juicy and pleasing, if served on a bit unwieldy of a bun (and while the French fries are good as well, our friend is especially taken with her substitute scalloped potatoes).

The Non-Problem Child Side of the Table

Ginger, who is seemingly obsessed with dividing all of our items in two, places a half of a pickle on Vodka's sticky bun plate but does not notice whether or not Vodka consumes it.

"Did you take your pickle?" Ginger asks in a panic many minutes later.

"I ate it," Vodka answers.

"Good. I was afraid I did," Ginger confesses, flashes of McClure Pickle jars flashing through her head.

Perhaps We Should've Asked El Chorro to Pre-Divide ALL of Our Food

Similar to the burger, the chicken enchiladas are also quite good, even if they are slightly spicy for our weak palates.

Mexican Food in Arizona: Check

Smothered in cheese and topped with slivers of tortilla chips, they prove to be one of our favorite dishes of the night.

Well, Our Favorite Non-Free Dish

By the time we cap off our time in Arizona with a visit to the Phoenician rooftop bar, we are extremely full but apparently not satiated. When Vodka spots sushi being consumed a table away, she comments that it looks appealing.

"I never want to eat again," our friend says, looking at the sushi with disgust.

"It's not that I want to eat it," Vodka explains. "It's that if someone stuck it in my mouth, I would probably chew."

And this philosophy, ladies and gentlemen, is how the west was truly won.

El Chorro Lodge's Sticky Buns: 5 stars*

*Certifiable Best Thing I Ever Ate

Off the Map: We've Come to a Spoon in the Road

2012-02-07T17:23:00.000-05:00

Toffee Banofi Sundae -- Sweet Republic Artisan Ice Cream, Scottsdale, AZ
Sweet Republic

Apparently, this is the beginning of the end. Vodka and Ginger no longer have comparable tastebuds. And it took a trip to Scottsdale, Arizona to reveal the breakdown in our rating system.

This Is What Happens When We Leave New York

In the past, we have almost always been on the same page about our star ratings. If there were disagreements about how many stars a certain Best Thing I Ever Ate dish should receive, the one who felt less strongly would almost always relent.

In Phoenix, we are at a standstill.

And Not Just Over Our Ice Cream Flavors

Perhaps it is the ghosts of the western cowboys influencing our rating duel, but we have each turned stubborn and steadfast in our opinions. First, there was the fried chicken at Mrs. White's (Ginger wanted more stars), then the waffle dogs at Over Easy (Vodka wanted more stars), then the French onion soup at Zinc Bistro (Vodka wanted more stars).

But it is at Sweet Republic, home of Alton Brown's favorite ICE CREAMY dish, the toffee banofi sundae, that our divergent opinions come to a head.

The Impetus Behind the First Blog Rating Smackdown

For an ice cream store in a nondescript strip mall in the middle of a mild Arizona day, Sweet Republic Artisan Ice Cream is fairly packed when we enter its premises on a Saturday afternoon.

And Clearly Quite Proud of Their Food Network Heritage

When we reach the front of the line, we order one toffee banofi sundae and one cookie mintifesto sundae, both in waffle bowls, to split between us. Securing our own table, we fetch plastic spoons and cups of free water (apparently a requirement in Arizona due to the heat index) and dig in.

One Would Never Know This Is Our Eighteenth "Snack" of the Day

"Mmmmmmm," Ginger hops up and down, licking her lips and murmuring like a certifiable crazy person.

"What?" Vodka asks, gingerly tasting the first spoonful of toffee banofi.

"That's how good I think it is," Ginger explains.

Ginger Using the "Auditory Sounds Automatically Translate to High Ratings" Manipulation Technique

Now, Sweet Republic's sundaes are complex, hearty, and slightly unusual. The toffee banofi features vanilla ice cream, banana, toffee buttercrunch, salted butter caramel sauce, and whipped cream (plus, of course, the waffle bowl). The part Vodka likes about it is that it is salty. The part that Ginger likes about it is everything.

Although Based on This Shot, the Bananas Would Say Otherwise

In both Ginger's and the sundae's defense, all of the components are great on their own -- an ideal first step. The whipped cream is fluffy, the toffee sticky and sweet, and the waffle bowl close to perfect. And together, they are good -- definitely good.

But Vodka is hellbent on the fact that they are not, despite Ginger's oohing and ahing, good enough to be 5 stars.

And so, we have come to a spoon in the road.

Two Spoons Diverged in the Desert

The cookie mintifesto produces a similar argument -- the mint chocolate chip ice cream, chocolate chip cookie chunks, hot fudge, and whipped cream combination is good. But it is still just a sundae, and Vodka is not convinced that she could not procure one just as satisfying at an ice cream chain store -- Baskin Robbins, or Cold Stone, or preferably, for Vodka's custard-loving ways, Rita's.

While Ginger is Adamant That Vodka Has Lost Her Mind

We become convinced that it is our Arizona resident friend who is causing the breakdown in our rating system -- she is always on the side of "more stars" (in this case, Ginger) and provides added ammunition for that person's case. "If we were here by ourselves, maybe we'd think everything was terrible," Ginger surmises.

And We'd Probably Be Mocking Sweet Republic's Board Game Selections

But as it stands, we've come to the compromise of giving Sweet Republic's sundae 4 stars. And that, folks, is just the way the ice cream melted.

Sweet Republic Artisan Ice Cream's Toffee Banofi Sundae: 4 stars

Off the Map: I'm Gonna Hook You Up, Jersey-Style

2012-02-06T17:18:00.000-05:00

French Onion Soup -- Zinc Bistro, Scottsdale, AZ
Zinc Bistro

Like moths to a flame, New Jersey natives always seem to find each other, even in the most non-Garden State of locations. This magnetic attraction is how Vodka ends up being BFFs with our Zinc Bistro waiter.

When in Arizona, Do as New Jersey Would

"Ooh, it smells like a bar in here," Ginger notes as we enter our Scottsdale lunchtime location. Looking remarkably similar to a combination of Balthazar, Pastis, and Parc, Zinc Bistro is clearly going for French ambiance, evidenced by the Eiffel Tower sculpture and the proliferation of alcohol.

Parlez-Vous "Cocktail?"

Before we can so much as glance at the menu (read: cocktail list), our waiter, who practically breathes "originally from New Jersey," whips our white napkins off of our table and replaces them with black ones. We look at each other quizzically and then consult our friend as to the meaning of this obviously Phoenix-specific behavior.

"They give you dark napkins when you're wearing dark pants," she explains without affect.

"WHO does?!"

"Nice restaurants," she answers.

"No, never, uh uh," we protest. "That has never happened to us before." Instead of being impressed by this color spectrum service, we are so confused that it has manifested as outrage.

NapkinGate 2012

Again, before we can continue our debate over whether or not such napkin-to-pants matching is normal practice, our waiter is back in a flash to card us, even before our drink orders have been placed. And this is when our waiter figures out that he has found some East Coast compatriots.

The Best Geographic Bonding Happens Over Liquor

We order a La Fleur and a Parisian Mule, while our Southwest colleagues stick with a teetotaling Arnold Palmer and French Press coffee (this is the price one pays for being our chauffeur).

This Is Also Why We Don't Drive

It soon becomes apparent that we each have our own variety of "drinking beverages" issue: Ginger is insistent that she receive a straw for her water, because she doesn't "like when the ice touches my face," and Vodka is sipping her cocktail at her typical snail's pace because she's a "slow drinker, or else I feel like I'm drowning."

Our waiter seems to share such neuroses (maybe it's an East Coast thing), as not only does he provide a straw for Ginger's water, but a full bushel of straws for every beverage on the table.

A Hootenanny of Straws

When Jersey (as the waiter will from now on be called) returns yet again, we order the Best Thing I Ever Ate French onion soup (or, in pretentious menu terms, "onion soup gratinee"), as recommended by Beau MacMillan on the CHEESY episode.

You Say 'Gratinee,' We Say 'Give Us Cheese'

We also choose to split a Zinc house salad, while our friends order the mussels.

"Get the French fries, too," Jersey insists. "They're amazing."

"No!" Ginger, who seems to be into putting her foot down quite a bit today, answers him. "We're gonna be too full. We have a lot of eating to get to." But when Vodka and friends, once again, perform a majority vote towards getting the French fries, Jersey sticks his tongue out at Ginger in a show of one-upmanship.

Jersey Has Won the Battle, But Not Yet the War

Perhaps as a peace offering, Jersey comes back immediately with a bread basket and whispers in Ginger's ear, "I hooked you up, Jersey-style. Everyone else has to ask for bread. You guys just get it."

Please take note of this bread service, bartender at Pizzeria Bianco.

A Slightly Dull Bread Basket is Better Than No Bread Basket At All

Ginger finds a heart-shaped slice and begins carb-loading, while Vodka is overcome by the BLT Steak-like provided salt shaker.

The Key to Vodka's Heart Is...

...Salt, Jersey-Style

Before we can consume enough yeast for our liking, our boiling hot bowls of French onion soup arrive, and Vodka, seemingly not afraid of drowning via soup consumption, dives in.

And she nearly burns her face off.

Note: Soup Served in a Witch's Caldron Is Indeed Hot

It is, therefore, especially telling as to the tastiness of the soup that Vodka still finds the first spoonful, and every subsequent one, delightful. Supremely salty broth, bite-sized onions, and oodles of gruyere cheese combine to form some of the best onion soup we've ever tasted.

Non-Minced Onions For the Win

Unlike many lower-scale versions where the cheese performs full lift-off upon the first spoonful, this cheese lasts through each and every bite of the soup.

The Cheese of Our Lives

Vodka manages to splatter half of our order across the paper table cloth (thank goodness for her black napkin), which Jersey makes a big show of mopping up for her.

What Would We Have Ever Done Had Our Napkins Been White?!

Yet despite all of these obstacles, Vodka believes this soup, like the waffle dogs, is 5 stars.

Ginger thinks it is not.

Never before in the history of this tour have we shared less compatible opinions.

Is This Not Evidence of a 5 Star Dish?!

Putting the empty soup caldrons aside, we move on to our salad (which Zinc Bistro has been kind enough to divide onto separate plates for us). The greens themselves are heavily dressed - nearly soaked. And while the taste of the dressing is pleasing enough, we'd prefer a bit more crispness.

Lay Low on the Dressing Next Time, Jersey

The accompanying crostinis are smothered heavily in soft goat cheese and chives, which is strong in flavor if a bit overbearing.

This Meal Is Becoming a Bit Over-Cheesed, Even By Our Standards

Our friends' mussels are some of the largest we have ever seen and are accompanied by a dose of "string things" (the highfalutin culinary term for "fried potato strings"), all of which is quite lovely.

In Arizona, Mussels Come Supersized

Our Aptly-Named "String Things"

And the much fought-over French fries prove to be the perfect dish to round out or Paris-by-way-of-Phoenix experience.

Oui Oui, Jersey

Jersey comes bounding over to our table with dessert menus in hand. "Can I interest you in some -- "

"Just the check," Ginger interrupts him. And for just an instant, one could almost assume that she, and not Vodka, is the one at this table with no-nonsense New Jersey blood running through her.

Zinc Bistro's French Onion Soup: 4 stars

Off the Map: Corn Dogs Would Be Better in a Waffle

2012-02-02T20:46:00.001-05:00

Waffle Dogs -- Over Easy, Scottsdale, AZ
Over Easy

Arizona might be good at many things: cacti, sand, mountains, dry heat.

Wait times at restaurants are not one of the areas in which Arizona excels.

So Many Bread Clocks, So Little Telling of Time

We arrive at a bustling Over Easy in Scottsdale the next morning and are told by the hostess that the wait will be thirty to forty minutes, unless we want to eat outside, where the wait might be slightly less.

The Early Bird Catches the Patio

"No!" a shivering Ginger demands. "Inside!"

Trying to Persuade Ginger That This is the Sun

Eventually, after much persuasion, Vodka and friends manage to convince Ginger that she is going to spend much more time standing outside waiting for a table than she would if she just allowed us to sit at one in the sunshine. Ginger relents, and we tell the hostess that we will take a seat on the practically-empty patio.

Arizona's Idea of "Bustling"

"Okay, it will still be a bit of a wait," the hostess tells us for no explicable reason. The patio is stuffed with at least twenty tables, two of which are currently occupied. Plus, there is barely a crowd still waiting for a table -- surely not enough to fill all eighteen of the remaining patio offerings.

Listen Over Easy - Not Sure You Know Who You're Dealing With Here: We're Food Network Groupies

So why have we been left to stand aimlessly near the hostess stand for a solid twenty minutes before we are granted a table? The explanation never comes.

As Her Next Trick, Ginger Will Reward This Feat of Service with Her Stapled Dollar

While we are left to languish in the front vestibule of Over Easy, we notice a sign announcing that their so-called "Happy Hour" seems to last most of the day. "That's not happy hour, that's just life," Ginger remarks, and when we are finally seated, the first thing we do is order ourselves some $5 mimosas.

It's Not Even Noon in New York, Let Alone in Scottsdale

As Ginger drags her chair closer to the sun's rays and Vodka tries to hide in the shadows under the table, we decide that along with Beau MacMillan's Best Thing I Ever Ate FOR BRUNCH dish, the waffle dogs, we will also order the toasted brioche with sauteed spinach, egg, bacon, and scallions, along with both regular and sweet potato tater tots.

So We Pretty Much Don't Care That We Have a Full Day of Eating Ahead of Us

As we sip our mimosas, we notice that Over Easy is directly next to a gym -- motivation for a work-out if we ever had such motivation, which we never do. Instead, we are much more concerned with shoving our waffle dogs into our mouths as quickly as possible.

Why Work Out Your Body When You Can Work Out Your Teeth?

When they arrive, we find three corn dog-like sticks of dough sprinkled with powdered sugar on each plate.

You're Once, Twice, Three Times a Waffle Dog

Recalling our complete ambivalence towards Shake Shack's thrice-annual corn dogs, we are somewhat skeptical as we prepare our dipping condiments of maple syrup and Cholula hot sauce (at the congenial waiter's suggestion).

And then, we bite into the dog.

Waffle Dog Cyclops

Inside, we find a tender sausage cemented by a layer of sweet waffle batter, the whole thing fried to a soft, doughtnuty texture. While none of the components would be particularly memorable on their own, together, they are a revelation, especially with the addition of the maple syrup/hot sauce combo.

How We Like to Live Life: With a Proliferation of Condiments

Vodka feels that the waffle dogs rival the breakfast choices at Matt's Big Breakfast, but Ginger maintains that she could never finish all three of them on her own, so she is holding off on a 5-star reward.

It Seems Ginger Suddenly Thinks She Has Relinquished Her Membership to the Clean Plate Club

Our other menu choices do not begin to compare to the scrumptiousness of the waffle dogs -- the brioche is pretty but dry and unimpressive, the brunch equivalent of a Lady M Confections cake.

Pretty Colors Do Not Equal Pretty Flavor

And while the regular tater tots are as crunchy and salty as the best of what we remember from our high school cafeterias, the sweet potato (a food that Vodka hates -- HATES -- anyway) variety is slightly squishy and requires its own dipping sauce, because ketchup, hot sauce, nor maple syrup is doing the trick.

Gotta Get the Tots

If we ever find ourselves a) in Phoenix, and b) at Over Easy again, we would make it a point to order the waffle dogs as an appetizer to split amongst the table.

And/or with which to taunt the svelte gym-goers next door.

Over Easy's Waffle Dogs: 4 stars

Off the Map: Greasy, But Not in a Derogatory Way

2012-02-01T19:47:00.000-05:00

Golden Brown Southern Fried Chicken -- Mrs. White's Golden Rule Cafe, Phoenix, AZ
Mrs. White's Golden Rule Cafe

If we're being honest, if Beau MacMillan had not instructed us to go to Mrs. White's Golden Rule Cafe in Phoenix for the fried chicken, we most likely would not have set foot in the place.

Well, Doesn't This Look Inviting?

It's not that we are put off by bars on the windows (oh, who are we kidding? We are), but more that we were forced to pass through a Nascar exhibition tour on our way to the place. Let's be clear: we hate Nascar.

Way to Class Things Up, Phoenix

However, if this restaurant is the home of Beau MacMillan's Best Thing I Ever Ate FRIED CHICKEN dish, then we will not let slightly-shady ambiance nor men sporting hideous race car jackets dissuade us from our mission.

There's Also the Whole Business of the - Literal - "Writing on the Walls"

We enter Mrs. White's Golden Rule Cafe after the lunch rush has ended, which seems to be code for "after they have run out of all the good side dishes."

Here's a Hint: This Isn't One of the "Good" Ones

The very pleasant waitress comes over to take our order for one sweet tea (for Ginger), along with three pieces of fried chicken, mac and cheese, and sweet potatoes. No problem.

Except they're out of mac and cheese.

And sweet potatoes.

And "green beans and cabbage" just doesn't have the same ring to it.

Where Are Our Carbs?!

Ginger, claiming "dry heat exhaustion," starts gulping down her 32-ounce sweet tea, pausing midway through to inform us, "Also, I'm going into a diabetic coma."

Sweet Tea, Prison-Style

Luckily, she does not have to wait long for a tray of food to arrive in order to soak up her sugary stomach contents. While meanwhile:

"This Is For You," Ginger Says to Vodka

Along with out two chosen ("chosen" is a relative term) sides, we have received a slice of intensely-yellow cornbread.

You Are My Sunshine

The corn bread is rich and sweet and has difficulty removing itself from the roofs of our mouths. But it is not the reason we are here. That distinction belongs to the golden brown Southern fried chicken, and it is just about everything that Beau MacMillan had promised.

Here, Chicky, Chicky, Chicky

The breading and skin is crispy and salty, and the meat itself unbelievably moist. It causes us to lick our fingers after each bite, appropriately greasy in the best possible way.

The chicken is pretty near perfect.

A Chicken Wing Being Slowly Massacred

Now, while we agree that the chicken is excellent, we come to a standstill over its comparison to Hill Country's version; Ginger much prefers Mrs. White's more traditional variety, while Vodka is adamant that Hill Country's is ten times superior (and not just because Hill Country's side dishes could kick Mrs. White's over the Mason Dixon line).

Those Beans Are No Pimento Mac and Cheese, Is All We're Saying....

Vodka relents on the 5 star rating because Ginger is so convinced of Mrs. White's gold medal status, yet she remains happy with the fact that Hill Country is the fried chicken establishment located in our actual city of residence.

This Chicken Is Just Not Worth a Blog Civil War

Indeed, it is probably best that we not discuss the green beans or cabbage (both a deadly combination of "mushy" and "bland," or as Ginger insists on calling them, "authentic") so as to not detract from the truly wonderful fried chicken. Mrs. White's Golden Rule Cafe seems to prove that you do not have to go to the South, or even to New York City, to procure truly great fried chicken.

You just have to go to a would-be jailhouse in the middle of the Arizona desert.

Amen, Mrs. White, Amen

Mrs. White's Golden Rule Cafe's Golden Brown Southern Fried Chicken: 5 stars*

*Certifiable Best Thing We Ever Ate

Off the Map: Well, It's Not Sbarro, But It Will Do

2012-01-31T18:44:00.002-05:00

Rosa Pizza -- Pizzeria Bianco, Phoenix, AZ
Pizzeria Bianco

"I'm already annoyed. It's never good when I start out annoyed."

And so begins our inexplicable drama with the staff of Pizzeria Bianco.

After a hearty and heartening meal at Matt's Big Breakfast, we wander through the streets of downtown Phoenix in search of John T. Edge's Best Thing I Ever Ate Rosa PIZZA at Pizzeria Bianco.

There's New York Pizza, There's Chicago Pizza, and There's... Phoenix Pizza?

When we arrive, we find an assortment of both picnic and high-top tables in front of the establishment, and a packed house inside. Vodka makes her way in, and finding no hostess but a pad of paper and a pen on the pizza counter, she decides to sign us in herself, Matt's Big Breakfast-style.

Apparently, such sign-in practices are NOT, as Vodka had assumed, a Phoenix policy. At least, that's what the waiter who scolded her said.

Obediently dropping the pen, Vodka waits for the actual hostess to appear and then learns that it will be thirty to forty minutes for a table.

"Can we eat outside?" Vodka asks, pointing at the vacant tables just outside the front door.

"We don't serve out there," the hostess states. Accepting our fate, Vodka retreats outside and explains the situation to Ginger and our friend, who suggest that we ask for a pizza to-go and consume it on this lovely, shady picnic table.

This plan, too, is not allowed by the school marm-ish hostess.

And now, Vodka is annoyed.

So Then What, Exactly, Are All of These Tables For?!

We sit on our picnic bench somewhat patiently for a half hour, Ginger popping up randomly to photograph Southwest scenery ("Excuse me, I need to go take a picture of some lemons").

Looking at Citrus Trees Like People Who Have Never Seen the Ocean

Meanwhile, a plethora of stray cats roam the premises, making us question whether or not they're the reason for Pizzeria Bianco's seemingly ludicrous policy of not allowing customers to consume THEIR PIZZA directly outside of THEIR RESTAURANT.

Minus 10 Stars for Making No Sense, Pizzeria Bianco

After seating not one but two parties who had arrived after us, our sworn frenemy, the hostess, deigns to allow us to sit at the bar. And this is where the real trouble begins.

See How Many People Are Waiting For Us? Yeah - Exactly

Ginger scampers off to the excessively large bathroom, one in which we're convinced, based on our New York-centric ideas about space, you could fit a table for ten, leaving Vodka and our friend to commandeer the drinks.

Arizona is the Place to Live If You Want to Fit Full Wardrobes in Your Bathroom

We order wine and the bartender cards Vodka. Now, Vodka loves to be carded, as it makes her feel like a college co-ed, so this is not the issue. The issue is that the bartender is about as focused as a hyperactive Pomeranian. Instead of checking our friend's ID at the same time as Vodka's, he disappears, so our friend puts her ID away. Minutes later, when we are still without our drinks, he asks to see hers.

And now our friend is annoyed, too.

So This Pizza Better Be the Best Thing We Ever Ate to Make Up For All of This Nonsense

At this point, the attention-deprived bartender and his scolding waiter friend start talking about us -- or to us, but in a passive-aggressive way that we do not comprehend.

And this is the moment at which Ginger returns from the bathroom, thoroughly confused by the scowls on both of our faces.

Eventually, we receive both our wine and our glasses of water (which Vodka only had to ask for, oh, three times). But you know what we do not receive? Bread. You know what everyone else seated at the bar has received? A basket of bread.

"I don't even want the bread," Vodka says, referring to our Matt's Big Breakfast-induced fullness. "But it's the principle of the thing."

And now, everyone is annoyed: Vodka and our friend are irritated by the bartender, waiter, and hostess, and Ginger is perturbed by the fact that she still doesn't quite understand what is going on.

For the record, this is not the best mentality with which to consume a pizza.

But It Is Great Motivation for Tossing Certain Waitstaff Towards the Pizza Oven

Trying to lighten the mood, Ginger prattles on about how she does not fear she will die by murder or mugging in Arizona because there are so many other hazards with which to contend, such as snakes and cacti.

"And scorpions," our friend offers helpfully, causing both of us to lift our toes up slightly higher on our barstools.

Death by Desert

Just before Ginger can confess by what other means she fears she will kick the bucket, our pizza arrives (well, actually, the bartender tries to give it to another party and has to be corrected, cementing his cold place in Vodka's heart).

You're Currently Batting in the Negative Zone, Buddy

Six slices, with slightly charred crusts from the giant pizza oven, are covered with slices of red onion, a coating of parmigiano reggiano, and pistachios, and the whole thing is seeped with rosemary flavoring.

Nuts and Onions Everywhere and Not a Drop of Cheese

Biting in, we find the crust thin, slightly crispy, and pleasant enough. It is the toppings which we feel are lacking.

And PS Why Are All of the Toppings Hovering at the Tips of the Slices?

In its defense, this rosa pizza is interesting, mostly because we have never seen nuts sprinkled onto a pie before, and they bring a solid earthy texture to the slices.

But All the Texture in the World Can't Bring "Taste"

However, we think something else needs to be added in order to make the flavors pop -- more cheese, or salt, or garlic, or truffle, or some form of sauce. The pizza, for all its unusual ingredients, is more than tolerable, but just not as interesting as it should be.

Why, in a "Nutshell," Phoenix is Not Known for Its Pizza

Diving into her second slice, Ginger proclaims, "I just feel like it's missing something."

"Bread," the still-bitter Vodka retorts, once again eying the neighboring bread basket.

By the end of our "lunch" (let's be real -- we don't really let "meal times" hinder our eating schedule), we're fairly certain that the staff of Pizzeria Bianco finds us just as aggravating as we find them (and not just because we keep speaking loudly about how dusty their overhead beams are).

Ever Hear of Some Endust?!

Considering that we had hopped off the plane from New York and headed straight to the airport Sbarro, we may not have the most discerning taste in pizza.

Sad That We Preferred This Duo of Slices, Huh?

But we do know, without a doubt, when we are irrevocably annoyed.

Pizzeria Bianco's Rosa Pizza: 3 stars

Off the Map: Into the Desert in Muumuus We Go

2012-01-30T19:22:00.002-05:00

The Chop & Chick -- Matt's Big Breakfast, Phoenix, AZ
Matt's Big Breakfast

When the thermometer hits the freezing mark, many New Yorkers flee for the Florida beach or the Arizona desert. This kind of logic is how we find ourselves on a plane to Phoenix in the middle of the January chill. The only difference lies in the fact that rather than for some relaxation and Vitamin D, we are heading to Arizona to eat.

We are essentially the vulture version of snowbirds.

The First of Our 90,000 Cactus Pictures

In truth, we probably would not have ever made it to Arizona had it not been for our mutual college friend's choice to live near Phoenix, thus providing us with a tour guide, a hotel, and most importantly for our automobile-inept ways, a driver.

Being Chauffeured Around Gives Us the Chance to Take Some Scenic Highway Shots

It is due to both her graciousness as a host and her ability to navigate that we find ourselves in the middle of downtown Phoenix on our way to taste our first Best Thing I Ever Ate Southwest delicacy.

Toto, I Don't Think We're in Manhattan Anymore

As we make our way down the cacti-surrounded sidewalks, we find ourselves on our very own exotic species nature walk, which we insist on photographing at every corner.

"Winter" in Arizona

When our friend announces that we could probably find a lot of prickly pear cacti in the area, we have only one logical follow-up question:

"Do They Come With Tequila?"

With nary a margarita in sight, we instead find Matt's Big Breakfast and are greeted by a throng of people waiting outside its doors.

Looks Kind of Like a Car Wash from a Distance, Don't You Think?

As our friend signs us in with the provided pad and pencil, we take a seat on one of the surrounding benches, Ginger stationed in the sun and Vodka hiding from any shred of its rays.

"Is my face blue?" Ginger asks.

"No... why?!"

"My sunscreen is supposed to turn blue when UV rays hit it," Ginger explains, whipping out the sunscreen bottle to confirm this fact. What she finds is a berry-blue bottle cap, which had been white just this morning. It seems that the TOP of the sunscreen container turns blue in sun; not Ginger's face.

Crisis averted.

Idiocy Lives on in the Desert

After approximately forty minutes, our name is called and we shuffle into the ironically named Matt's Big Breakfast, ironic because the place is almost smaller than our apartments. Although this wait time is long by our standards, we are not perturbed for two reasons:
1) we were able to check our own progress on the sign-in pad, and
2) the staff at Matt's Big Breakfast does not dilly-dally -- the service is so quick that it leads to rapid table turnover, despite the scarcity of the tables themselves.

Well played, Matt's Big Breakfast.

Sun-Drenched Special Board

Settling into our cozy diner-like table, we order Guy Fieri's Best Thing I Ever Ate WAKE UP CALL choice: the chop and chick (two eggs and a skillet-seared Iowa pork rib chop).

And Meanwhile, Watching Over the Proceedings....

As we discuss whether or not we would allow Guy to brand our establishment with a graffiti tattoo, our beverages arrive: apple cider for us and chocolate milk for our friend.

Gotta Love a Water Jar

Said friend, not being used to the rules of this eating tour (don't dare touch your food until Vodka takes a boatload of photographs of it) reaches for her milk as Vodka reaches for her camera. This action results in a literal slap on the wrist from Vodka.

"Sorry, it's my first time," our friend states, retracting her hand until the proper number of pictures have been snapped.

Five Hours Later, the First Sip Was Taken

We barely have time to wax poetic about the deliciousness of our drinks (tangy/tart and creamy/smooth, respectively) before our breakfasts arrive. When a plate of sourdough toast is placed in front of her, Ginger says with ample enthusiasm, "Ooh, we get toast! I love toast."

Never Before Has Toast Received Such a Warm Welcome to a Table

"THAT'S the part you're excited about?!" our friend asks, gesturing at the enormous waffle and pork chop which have also appeared.

"But look at that butter," Ginger defends her toast-centric tastebuds. Indeed, the toast proves to be almost unbearably perfect, both because of the smothered-on butter and the side of berry jam.

One-to-One Toast-to-Butter Ratio

However, it is not the focus of our Best Thing I Ever Ate eating today; for that, we have our chop and chick.

A Bi-Polar Breakfast Plate

First of all, the chop and chick is not something any of us would ever order for breakfast if left to our own devices because, after all, who eats a pork chop as their first meal of the day? And perhaps if the chop and chick consisted only of the chop, we would still feel this way.

Pork Chop in the Morning, Pork Chop in the Evening, Pork Chop at Supper Time

However, the combination of the pork chop, scrambled eggs, and crunchy hash browns ends up being almost too astounding for us to fathom.

Three Unexpected Peas in a Pod

As Vodka commandeers the steak knife and cuts the chop into pint-size pieces, Mother Hen-style, Ginger and our friend stab together trifecta bites of delectability.

Vodka Showing Her Maternal Side

While the scrambled eggs are fairly standard, both the pork chop and the hash browns are superior to any we have ever had. The chop is moist and succulent, which astonishes those of us who equate pork chops with being dry and flavorless.

Perfect Pig

The hash browns are cooked to a crisp and rival even our gold standard in this food group, McDonald's. And the combination of the three elements is nothing less than tantalizing.

The Better to Bite You With, My Dear

"I'm just going to add a little salt," Vodka, who has made it her business to keep salt miners employed, says while sprinkling a bit on top of the plate.

"No! It's SO salty," Ginger tries to stop her.

"Is it?!" Vodka asks, clearly having upped her salt tolerance by a few teaspoon degrees over the past year.

Moving onto the waffle, it is quite simply to-die-for.

In a Word, Wafflicious

The sweet cream butter and fresh maple syrup take the already-amazing plate to heavenly proportions, and we are once again certain that we have never before tasted a waffle so melt-in-your-mouth delightful.

We Like Anything Sprinkled with Sugar AND Bacon

The side of bacon, while also tasty on its own, is even better when paired with bites of waffle, bringing a salty char to the proceedings, and it is all we can do not to collectively lick the plates.

"Quick, Someone Create a Diversion So We Can Lap This Up"

"I now understand the muumuus," our friend states as we wrap up our meal, referring to our billowing, waist-forgiving attire. We pay our check, which is remarkably low for the level of food we have consumed, and we begin to make our way outside as the ever-efficient waitstaff clears our table for the next party. When a fork tumbles off of the chop and chick plate onto Vodka's muumuu, our friend gets a look of panic in her eyes.

"Did that just demote them to four stars?" she asks.

But lucky for Matt's Big Breakfast, a bird in the mouth is worth two on the dress.

Matt's Big Breakfast's The Chop & Chick and Waffles: 5 stars*

*Certifiable Best Thing We Ever Ate

The 100th Post Medal Podium: The Very Best Things We Have Eaten (So Far)

2012-01-26T20:58:00.002-05:00

In honor of our 100th post, we have each decided to compile a list of our favorite dishes consumed so far -- our Best Of the Best Thing I Ever Ate, so to speak. These are the places that we tend to recommend the most and would be especially likely to return to on our own accord. And so, in a burst of Olympic fanfare, we present the It's Not Even Noon Somewhere 100th Post Gold Medal Champions:

Best Things Vodka Ever Ate:
1. Pasta Tasting Menu -- Vetri

Toto, I Don't Think We're in Olive Garden Anymore

One word: pasta. Vetri is all about the pasta, which just so happens to be Vodka's favorite food on the planet. And no one -- NO ONE -- does pasta better than the staff at Vetri. So save up your pennies, make your way to Philadelphia, and drown yourself in Vetri's delectability.

2. Spaghetti -- Scarpetta

Don't Let Your Cat Mistake This For Yarn

Since there is not yet a Vetri outpost in New York, Vodka heads to Scarpetta whenever she needs an upscale pasta fix. While the Best Thing I Ever Ate dish is the spaghetti, all other pasta dishes which Vodka has tasted here (particularly any of the truffle specials) have been mouth-watering feats of culinary glory. And if all of that persuasion is not enough, Scarpetta's bread basket is the best in the city (it has stromboli in it, for goodness sake!).

3. Mama Els' Recipe Fried Chicken -- Hill Country Chicken

Everyone Knows the Best Fried Chicken Comes From... Manhattan?

When Vodka decides to eat something other than carbs, she heads to Hill Country Chicken for some of Mama Els' Recipe fried chicken (though let's be real - Hill Country's carbs are pretty great, too, particularly their mac and cheese). Go for the chicken, stay for the pie. PS Vodka loves any place that serves boxed wine.

4. Cookies -- Levain

The Only Hiking Vodka Wants to Do Is Up This Cookie Mountain

When the Best Thing I Ever Ate tour was still a mere figment of our overeating imaginations, Vodka fell in love with Levain Bakery and their one-pound cookies. While the dark chocolate variety was the one featured on Best Thing I Ever Ate, Vodka prefers the chocolate chip walnut or the peanut butter chocolate versions, though, in truth, you cannot go wrong with any flavor. In fact, you cannot go wrong with a single baked good served at Levain (and rest assured that Vodka has made it her mission to try them all).

5. Toasted Ricotta Gnocchi -- Jane

Paula Deen Said It Best: Add Butter to Everything

Clearly, Vodka has a soft-spot for pasta, and Jane's ricotta gnocchi is second to none. Starchy and smothered in cream, they are a guilty pleasure waiting to happen. If they were served at a time other than lunch, Vodka might even be found in one of Jane's booths every week.

Best Things Ginger Ever Ate:
1. Cyprus Breakfast -- Kanella

Smorgasbord of Salt

Kanella's cyprus breakfast eliminated Ginger's eternal debate between sweet or salty morning meals. While consuming Kanella's sodium-laden platter, nary a vision of sugary baked goods danced in her head. The cyprus breakfast accomplishes perfection without a drop of chocolate or maple syrup, which is fantastic news... if you live in Philadelphia.

2. Spaghetti -- Scarpetta

It Bears Repeating: STROMBOLI in the BREAD BASKET

Truth be told, Ginger's love affair with Scarpetta is not even about the Best Thing I Ever Ate spaghetti; it is about the bread basket that precedes the spaghetti. The pasta dishes are only a delicious method by which to obtain the most fantastic bread selection in the whole city.

3. Spaghetti and Meatballs -- Extra Virgin

Spaghetti with a Side of Bowling Ball

Unfortunately for Scarpetta, if Ginger were looking to eat spaghetti on a brisk fall afternoon, she would bundle up and request a prime people-watching seat on the patio of Extra Virgin in the West Village. This spaghetti is tasty on its own, but the meatballs elevate it beyond the plain and simple. And luckily, there is plenty left over to bring home for a crave-worthy snack later in the night. Fortunately for Scarpetta, Extra Virgin only serves this dish on Sunday, so Ginger's loyalties are not too divided.

4. Popovers -- BLT Steak

Snap, Crackle, Popover

It has come to Ginger's attention that sometimes, the "free" bread is the best thing about a place. Case-in-point: BLT Steak's popovers. If it weren't for our detailed blog, Ginger wouldn't even be able to remember what else we ate at BLT Steak (though she would imagine it involved steak). These warm, airy popovers could only be improved by one thing: a fresh ginger cocktail.

5. Toasted Marshmallow Milkshake -- Stand

Ginger Likes Her Campfires in a Glass

One time after our initial excursion, Ginger went back to Stand and ordered a different milkshake; it was a terrible mistake. After drinking the toasted marshmallow milkshake, no other kind ever compares. And after consuming one shake, all you want is another. In all fairness, Micheal Symon did warn us.

Best Cocktail:
Vodka's:
Grapefruit Margarita -- Barrio Chino

Part of a Balanced Breakfast

Suffice it to say that this margarita made Vodka a fan of grapefruit itself, not to mention able to bear the burden of cardboard menus and rowdy brunch-time hipsters.

Ginger's:
Grapefruit Margarita -- Barrio Chino

The Grapefruit Margarita is Worth the Shoddiness of This Menu

Barrio Chino has elevated the margarita far beyond the realm of Jimmy Buffet's imagination into a delicious, tangy concoction perfect for brunch. It is just a matter of time (and stomach space) before we return to the place, and this time, Ginger will forgo the ginger mojito in favor of this perfect pink drink.

(Clearly, the sole reason we're friends is our identical preference for this cocktail).

Best Dessert:
Vodka's:
Rice Pudding -- Rice to Riches

The Alien-Invasion Photography Does Not Do Justice to This Pudding's Perfection

Based on her physique, one would not assume that Kelly Ripa knows good food, but she advocated Rice to Riches's plethora of rice pudding flavors long before Lisa Lillien did, and Vodka has been a loyal fan of the place ever since. Tip: skip the toppings and stick to the pure perfection of the rice pudding itself.

Ginger's:
Dark Chocolate Chip Cookies – Levain Bakery

Brownie Flavor in Cookie Form

These cookies would feed several small children for weeks. The outside is crisp, but the inside is rich and creamy, like raw cookie dough. Ginger once tried to find the recipe online and to bake these sinfully good cookies herself, but somehow, the vast gooey interior remains a home baker's pipe dream.

Best Appetizer:
Vodka's:
Pickles -- McClure's Pickles

Life Is Just a Bowl of Pickles

Not only are pickles an ideal prelude to any meal, but Vodka enjoys any food that is a Bring Your Own Atmosphere choice. While the first half of McClure's salty, briny pickle jar was consumed in the middle of E.A.T. restaurant, the second half was demolished on Vodka's couch, which is, frankly, her very favorite culinary ambiance of all.

Ginger's:
Deviled Eggs-- The Spotted Pig

Heavenly Eggs of the Devil's Creation

Deviled eggs may be one of the easiest things to whip up in one's own kitchen, but why bother when you can sit at the Spotted Pig bar with a festive cocktail to accompany their more scrumptious variety?

Best Bar:
Vodka's:
Grilled Mushroom Stack -- o ya

The Mushrooms Must Be Awfully Good to Counteract the Lack of Cocktails

One might wonder why Vodka would choose a bar where she didn't actually consume a cocktail. Well, o ya's accommodating staff allowed Vodka to sit at the chef's tasting bar by herself when the restaurant was barely open so that she could consume the Best Thing I Ever Ate dish, and any bar that she can take over on her own is one that holds a special place in her heart. Solid work, Boston.

Ginger's:
French Onion Soup Dumplings -- Stanton Social Club

It's Hard to Dislike Something Smothered in Cheese

Sure, the French onion soup dumplings were delicious, but what makes Stanton Social Club the best bar is that we were the only ones there. Full bartender attention, broad daylight, and silence: that's our kind of place. (Plus, this is the location where we came up with the title of our blog -- creativity flourishes when we are left to our own mid-day drinking devices).

Best (Biggest) Surprise:
Vodka's:
Toro Tartare -- Morimoto

Sushi on the Rocks

Normally, a thin slab of raw fish, sans rice, would not be considered Vodka's go-to meal, but Morimoto's toro tartare is so ridiculously interesting that it makes a believer out of even the most reluctant sashimi eater. Fresh fish, a smattering of dip choices, and a full-service Japanese toilet -- what else could someone want from a restaurant?

Ginger's:
Deep Fried Candy Bar – A Salt and Battery

The Real English Royalty

Ginger loves both fatty foods and state fairs, so her apathy towards deep-frying is somewhat baffling. The truth is that she is not wild about fried Oreos or even classic funnel cake, but the deep-fried candy bars at A Salt and Battery are true to their Best Thing I Ever Ate episode: TOTALLY UNEXPECTED.

And there you have it: 100 posts down, innumerable Best Thing I Ever Ate dishes to go. Perhaps by post 500, our tastes will change. But somehow, we think that no matter where our tastebuds and Food Network stars lead us, we will always be loyal to one reliable constant: our dear friend, the cocktail.

And with that, we raise a toast to the next 100 dishes: May they all be the best things we ever ate. Or at the very least, may they all be accompanied by some combination of vodka and ginger.

Don't You Think We're Doing a Service to the World?!

2012-01-25T17:54:00.003-05:00

Cheese Pizza -- Mimi's Pizza and Restaurant
Mimi's Pizza and Restaurant

By the time begin to we make our way to Mimi's Pizza and Restaurant for Bobby Flay's CHILDHOOD FAVORITE, the cheese pizza, we are in bad moods. A deadly combination of poor service and poorer cake at Lady M Confections has had this effect on us, and Ginger is on a rampage.

"Don't you think we're doing a service to the world?!" she asks Vodka, as if she is the head of UNICEF. "I mean, even if we discourage only one person from ever going to Lady M Confections, we have done our part."

And with that, we seem to have grown too big for our blogger britches, which is especially ironic considering that Vodka's mother is still our only confirmed reader.

Meandering our way up Lexington Avenue, we stumble into the bleak storefront of Mimi's Pizza, Vodka frantically jabbing at her phone as we have forgotten what we're supposed to eat.

Here's a Hint, Fools: It's Pizza

Ginger places our order for two slices of cheese pizza and a Diet Coke while Vodka stakes claim to two window seats and eyes the premises.

Barbra and No Bernadette? Unacceptable Mimi's

Slightly shabby, Mimi's walls feature headshots of celebrities whom we are certain were popular in about 1972, along with the ultimate tchotchke:

Ladies and Gentlemen, Feast Your Eyes Upon the Pizza Clock

"Wanna do me a favor and take a picture of that pizza clock over there?" Vodka asks Ginger. Without a word about the absurd task she has been given, Ginger goes off to retrieve a shot of the prized clock along with our pizza slices. Returning, she flashes a handful of one-dollar bills in Vodka's face.

"Stapled," she states. When Vodka merely stares at her, Ginger clarifies herself. Picking up a solitary dollar, she stretches it open to reveal a single staple in the middle. "What am I supposed to do with a stapled dollar?!"

Vodka expresses no sympathy towards Ginger's plight as she is entirely too consumed in sprinkling a healthy dose of oregano and garlic salt onto her slice, while Ginger risks life and tongue by diving mouth-first into the tip of her scalding-hot pizza.

Pizza Tips Wait for No One

"Why do they always have to make pizza so hot? I should've asked for the slice that's been sitting out all day," Vodka complains (proving once again that the effect of Lady M has not yet worn off).

Please Note How the Slices Are Too Wide for the Counter

Ginger is waving her hand in front of her mouth too rapidly to answer, so instead, we reflect upon the fact that the latest three blog entries may just be our most sober series of eating ever. If this is how the rest of year proceeds, we might just be teetotalers by the time we reach 2013.

Which is about as likely as us ever returning to Lady M Confections.

Love How the Dirty Napkin Made It Into Every Shot

Eventually, the pizza cools down enough for us to taste, and we sink our teeth into the thick glob of melted cheese and rip through the thin, slightly soggy crust.

Hello Grease, Our Old Friend

The proportion of this pizza is pretty superior -- equal amounts of crust, sauce, and cheese, and they meld together perfectly.

Not Part of the Domino's Five-Five-Five Plan

While Mimi's pizza is supposed to be ideal for folding, this crust does not seem sturdy enough to do so (though we never make a habit of folding our pizza anyway).

We Prefer to Make a Mess

As we consume more of our ample slices, we decide that Mimi's is very good -- for pizza. The sauce is especially tangy, the slice itself is well-cooked... but it is still just pizza. And pizza, we think, is a little bit like roast chicken - it has to be extremely distinctive if it wants to stand out from the crowd. Mimi's Pizza is good, yes, but it is also rather ordinary. And while we understand why Bobby Flay would have nostalgic affection for it as his childhood pizza joint, it is just not special enough to warrant a specific trip uptown.

Unless, of course, one has a thing for clocks in the shape of pizza pies.

Mimi's Pizza and Restaurant's Cheese Pizza: 4 stars

Plus, I Hate This Place

2012-01-24T19:16:00.001-05:00

Milles Crepes Cake -- Lady M Confections
Lady M Confections

Before we even get our grubby hands on the Best Thing I Ever Ate dish, Lady M Confections commits at least five cardinal sins of our eating tour.

Cake that Needs to Go to Confession

1. They are located on the Upper East Side, a location we find inconvenient because it is just so very wide and so very far from either of us.

2. Appropriate to the neighborhood location, the place itself is sterile -- white walls devoid of doo-dads surrounding white modern tables and chairs. "They could stand for some art," Ginger observes.

Well, Doesn't This Look Warm and Inviting?

3. The place is overcome with non-English speakers. In fact we seem to be the only people, aside from the staff, who is conversing fluently in English. It seems even the Upper East Side residents avoid this place.

4. The ordering process features the most confusing bout of logistics ever, so scarily intimidating that it causes Ginger to go running out of the premises until Vodka arrives. This system, or lack thereof, is compounded by some misleading signage which states that we cannot sit at a table until we are escorted by a staff member, yet in Twilight Zone-fashion, we are incapable of getting a staff member to wait on us.

And Speaking of Incorrect Signage, Those Are Eclairs, Lady M. Even We Know That

5. The wait for both a staffer and an actual slice of cake is unnecessarily slow. Apparently, the workers at Lady M Confections never got the memo that they are employed in New York City and are expected to move quickly.

Finally, after entirely too many minutes of hovering at the glass-encased pastry counter with half the population of Europe and Asia, we are "taken" to our very own table (the same empty table we had been standing next to for the last fifteen confusing minutes). The waitress places two glasses of iceless water in front of us, which Ginger starts gulping madly, explaining how she was "ice skating all day." A solid ten minutes later, while in the middle of her second glass, she blurts out, "Oh, it's lemon!"

"What now?" Vodka asks.

"The water is flavored with lemon. I couldn't figure out what that flavor was and thought they were trying to poison me."

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why we will never be foodies: the inability to recognize the flavor of lemon.

Add a Slice of Lemon to the Glass Next Time, Will You?

Finally, when we have already managed to criticize every aspect of Lady M Confections besides its food, we are given the Best Thing I Ever Ate choice itself: the milles crepes cake, as recommended by Ted Allen on the FRENCH FAVORITES episode.

Our Ordering Process Might Have Gone More Smoothly Had We Known How to Pronounce "Milles"

To be fair, the cake is pretty. Featuring twenty ultra-thin crepes stacked up on top of one another, a barely-there spread of custard between each one, this slice is a triumph in craftsmanship.

We just wish we could say the same about its taste.

And Its Ability to Withstand the Pierce of a Fork

Because the thing is, the cake just doesn't taste like much. For all of its visual attraction, the cake is monotonous in both texture and flavor, featuring bland crepes and barely-sweet cream.

Boring Cakes R Us

Ginger decides that the whole cake could be improved by a bit of fruit, or at least a fruit-flavored sauce, like raspberry or lemon (though if it were the latter, it might take her ten minutes to put her finger on the flavor).

There Go Our Hopes for a James Beard Award

Eventually, rather than eating the cake via forkfuls, we start pulling off the crepes one at a time. While this method makes for a slight improvement, as we are better able to taste the burnt sugar coating on the outside layer, it does not do nearly enough to combat our increasingly sinking opinions of the establishment itself.

Dull Any Way You Slice It

Throwing a bit of discarded crepe back on the plate with a flourish of disdain, Vodka states, as if she has been making an audible list of Lady M's faults (and as if she is forced to come here often), "Plus, I hate this place."

And that pretty much sums up the problem.

Someone Pass the Taste

We receive our bill, only to learn that not only have we been charged $10 for one measly hunk of unsatisfying cake, but that the gratuity (of which they deserve none) has already been added in. Ginger comforts herself in the knowledge that she has used her hard-earned $5 to purchase two glasses of free water along with this unappetizing cake, and we make our way out of Lady M Confections in a huff.

A Huff and a Cream Puff

Because heaven knows that if the only nice thing we have to say about a place is their abundance of water, there is a much larger problem at hand.

Lady M Confections's Milles Crepes Cake: 2 stars

Welcome to New York

2012-01-23T18:31:00.002-05:00

Cheesecake -- Junior's
Junior's

Some people (you may call them "adventurous" or you may call them "irrational") go to Times Square on December 31st to ring in the new year. The rest of us show up twelve hours later to eat cheesecake.

For Auld Lang Syne, My Dear

We have cautiously ventured to Times Square on New Year's Day in order to consume Rocco DiSpirito's chosen Best Thing I Ever Ate ALL AMERICAN dish, the cheesecake at Junior's.

Shubert Alley's Lowest Point

Rather than traipsing all the way to Brooklyn (we say this as if we'd be able to find Brooklyn in the first place), Vodka has suggested the theatre district location because she, naturally, is seeing Follies again.

Vodka Spots the Holy Grail from Junior's Patio

Finding the Junior's restaurant overcome with a throng of people waiting for tables, we decide to purchase our slice of cheesecake from the Junior's bakery next door and head into the Marriott Marquis hotel lobby to consume it. In order to reach this lobby, we are challenged with scaling eight floors of escalators, a task particularly daunting for us, as Ginger keeps getting shocked by the handrail and Vodka knows of two-year-olds who board escalators more easily than she does.

Miles to Go Before We Eat

When we finally reach the lobby, Ginger whips out her juice box of coconut water ("I brought my own beverage") to soothe herself from her long journey upstairs and uptown (and, more importantly, from her lingering New Year's Eve libations).

Cheesecake, Meet Coconut Water. You'll Soon Be Dining Together

When we find a dearth of empty tables on which to plunk down our cheesecake, we hover in two armchairs until a middle-aged couple, who we would bet money are from Long Island, begin to vacate one.

"Are you leaving?" Ginger inquires, not-so-subtly plopping our Junior's bag next to the woman's purse.

Ginger Stakes Her Claim

"Yes," the man answers. "But we're charging five dollars for the table -- welcome to New York!" He chuckles, highly amused at his clever way of pointing out how expensive New York is to far-flung out-of-staters like ourselves.

Well, it wouldn't be a new year unless we were mistaken for tourists thirty blocks from our own residences, now would it?

This Is What We Get for Walking Around with These Scarlet Letter Tourist Mugs

Unphased (in truth, highly amused) by our tourist status, we break open our container of Junior's cheesecake and prepare to dive in (well, Vodka prepares to dive in as Ginger mimes frantically for Vodka to hand her a fork).

You're Welcome for Us Classing Up Your Lobby, Marriott Marquis

The cheesecake is thick and creamy, the ideal texture, and it features just a hint of sweetness which prevents it from getting too rich too quickly.

Blanche Devereaux Called - She Wants Her Cheesecake Back

Ginger remarks that she prefers a crunchy graham cracker crust, and unfortunately, this slice has more of a soft layer cake bottom.

Cheesecake Crust by Way of TastyKake Krimpets

We make our way slowly through the cake as Ginger confesses that while she was visiting her parents over the holidays, she had to wear her old marching band shoes to Zumba class when she found herself without sneakers (laughter at this anecdote takes up a solid five minutes of available eating time).

One Has to Attend Zumba When One Eats As Much As We Do

By the end, we can't quite bring ourselves to finish the slice, though whether this is due to the size of the cheesecake itself or our previous night's activities remains open for discussion.

A Portrait of Cheesecake on New Year's Day

As we not-so-easily make our way back down the escalators so Ginger can drop Vodka off at the Follies theatre, we begin to plan our January Best Thing I Ever Ate eating schedule. Because it may be 2012 now, but this inquiry remains as relevant as ever: "New year, same question: when are we eating?"

We Apparently Share a Life Philosophy with Pigeons

Junior's Cheesecake: 4 stars

Off the Map: Like Most Things, The Boston Cream Pie Has Improved Since Its Birth

2012-01-19T18:17:00.003-05:00

Boston Cream Pie -- Omni Parker House, Boston, MA
Omni Parker House

Vodka is fairly certain that the Omni Parker House in Boston must have been part of the inspiration behind Disney World's haunted mansion ride, as she is pretty sure that a ghost hitched a ride with her back to Manhattan.

Initially, my accompanying friend had scoffed at the notion that the place is haunted, as told to me by my eternal best pal, the trolley tour guide. However, it only takes us one look around the hotel to convince ourselves that the rumor is correct: the Omni Parker House is operating only partially in this stratosphere.

We are here for Vodka's last stop on her marathon tour of Boston Best Thing I Ever Ate locations to consume Beau MacMillan's chosen REGIONAL FAVORITES dish, the Boston cream pie. But between the dark lighting, beyond vintage furniture, creepily deserted hallways, and the eeriest Christmas music ever created, we are convinced that Beau must have a secret Ghost Hunters fetish.

Boston Cream Pie: The Original Ghostbuster

Initially entering the Last Hurrah bar at the main entrance of the hotel, we are greeted by a bombastic display of young people (read: our age) looking to have a good time. Obviously, as our entire college dorm room had been born geriatric, this is not ideal. Maneuvering our way out of the Last Hurrah and to the actual Parker House restaurant, we are pointed towards the Parker Bar just up the stairs. Finding the place one hundred times quieter and barely populated, we remark, "Ahh, much more civilized" and take our place on the bar stools, tucking away our metaphorical monocles and orthopedic shoes.

And Preparing Ourselves for a Ghostly Visit

Once again, Vodka realizes that Ginger is missing out on the cocktail selections, as there is a "Ginger Snap Sour" option which seems right up her alley. Vodka settles for the Raspberry Citrus Drop and her friend, the Berry Specific, but under one condition: she wants to know what kind of berries are in the cocktail. Now, Vodka has been known to ask inane questions of waitstaff in her day ("Is there parsley on this, and if so, could there not be?"), but this inquiry is a new one. Apparently, our waitress concurs, as she has no idea what berries are featured in the drink and seems none-too-keen on finding out.

"Are there any you don't want?" she asks with the slightest hint of a growl.

"Blueberries," my friend answers, as if this is a perfectly logical request. The waitress retreats to fetch our cocktails and our cream pie, a now permanent berry-induced scowl on her face.

Going on a Deep-Sea Dive In Search of Blueberries

As we wait for our order, we engage in an entirely-too-in-depth discussion on regional pronunciations of words (to go along with our upcoming REGIONAL FAVORITES pie, although we do not actually draw this connection at the time). Vodka's friend decides to quiz her on how she pronounces a certain citrus fruit, and the following gem of idiocy occurs:

"How do you say the fruit that's also a color?"
"Plum."
"No, not plum. It's not yellow, it's not red...."
"Banana."

Finding herself on the losing side of "moron," Vodka changes the subject to begin photographing the provided bar snacks: peanuts and wasabi peas. When her friend continues to lean over the table, impacting Vodka's lighting, she snaps, "You're shadowing my nuts," a phrase that our already hostile waitress is privy to as she arrives just in time with our (thankfully devoid of blueberries) cocktails and pie.

Clearly, We Were the Joy of Said Waitress's Night

We are given the miniature version of the Boston cream pie rather than a slice, and we're not sure if this will prove to be a blessing or a detriment to our rating.

This Plate Probably Looked Well-Assembled In Its Last Lifetime

Beside the cylinder of pastry are two quickly-deflating piles of whipped cream, along with some chocolate sauce and strawberries. The pie itself features a deep chocolate topping with a swirl of white on top and has shaved almonds covering the sides.

Somebody Give the Whipped Cream CPR

Digging in, we find a dense vanilla cake with just a hint of cream in the middle.

That phrase bears repeating, based on the fact that this dessert is called a Boston CREAM pie: "just a hint of cream in the middle."

Dear Parker House, Did your ghosts eat the rest of the cream filling?!

Time to Call in the Search Party

As we proceed through the cake, we grow increasingly dissatisfied with the less cream we find, and the now-liquid side of whipped cream does not have nearly enough flavor to counteract this issue.

Plate of Fail

While we agree that the slivers of almonds on the side of the cake are a nice textural touch, my friend maintains that she has had much more successful Boston cream pies at diners across the country, proving that, like most great dishes, the Boston cream pie has drastically improved since its initial incarnation.

Advertisement Not Sized to Scale

And with that, Vodka leaves her final Boston destination, the ghosts of hotel lurkers, former childhood idols, and lonesome trolley tours haunting her all the way home.

Omni Parker House's Boston Cream Pie: 3 stars

Off the Map: Have You Any Needs for a Chicken Carcass?

2012-01-18T18:41:00.001-05:00

Whole Roasted Chicken: Craigie on Main, Cambridge, MA
Craigie on Main

Vodka makes it from the front door of o ya in Boston to our table at Craigie on Main in Cambridge in exactly 23 minutes, impressive when you consider that Vodka is not from Boston, does not quite understand their public transportation system, and still believes that Cambridge consists only of Harvard's campus. We believe this is proof that Vodka can get just about anywhere in a very limited amount of time if armed with her iPhone map and the knowledge that dinner awaits her.

Especially When the Promised Dinner Proves to Be Excessive

Vodka and her hosts have all met at Craigie in order to indulge in Alex Guarnaschelli's SIMPLY IRRESISTIBLE Best Thing I Ever Ate dish of the whole roasted misty knoll chicken, which is served with vidalia onions, pea greens, forked potatoes, and chanterelle jus (with a recommended serving size for two).

Apparently, One Person Is Not Supposed to Consume a Whole Chicken for Dinner. Good to Know

Because Craigie on Main changes their menu daily, Vodka has inquired no less than three times in the past few days to confirm that this chicken will be on the menu tonight, so she is probably now on the Boston Most Wanted List as a chaser of both expensive mushrooms and chickens.

And Also As a Person Who Photographs Appealing Water Bottles

To begin the meal, we are given a bread basket of triangular shaped bread with a matching dish of triangular butter: amuse bouche of geometric patterns, if you will.

Triangle Observation Courtesy of Nerds R Us

The bread tastes suspiciously similar to loaves you would find at Panera Bread, though we don't think "Grilled Spanish Octopus" can be found along the Panera salad bar, so the similarities between the two establishments ends there.

We Hear There Are Seven More Plates Where This Came From...

In fact, the grilled Spanish octopus is what Vodka's friend orders for her appetizer, while the friend's husband chooses the beet salad (while neither octopus nor beets is an ingredient that would make Vodka say "Let me choose that!" both are tasty if you like those sorts of things).

Beets in Non-Borscht Form

Unlike the food items, the cocktail menu might as well be written in tongues for our lack of ability to understand it. Vodka cannot even tell if any of the cocktails contain vodka, and when the waiter points out the one that does, she dismisses it when she sees that it also includes sage ("I'm not a big fan of herbs in my drinks," she states. The herbacious mojito at Daddy-O taught her this lesson). Finding no cocktails to her liking, she asks her new favorite question of whether or not Craigie serves flavored vodka. They do not. Therefore, she asks for a plain vodka soda with a squeeze of lime, while her friends settle for some form of wine and a Dark and Stormy.

The verdict on the cocktails? Well, frankly, Craigie, stashing some blueberry vodka in your back cabinets wouldn't do much harm now, would it?

If You Get My Drift...

Just before our entrees arrive, our waiter brings out the full cooked chicken for us to ooh and ahh over appropriately, and he asks, with all sincerity, if any of us have a need for a chicken carcass. We decline his offer, though our initial blank stares cause him to clarify that some customers choose to take the carcass home with them for future use.

I'm sure my friends on the MegaBus would just love if I brought a skeletal chicken along.

Now Doesn't That Look Fragrant?

Minutes later, while her husband digs into his cod (which is flaky and appealingly cooked), my friend and I each receive a plate of nicely assembled chicken breasts piled on top of the dish's plethora of sides. The chicken itself is ideally brown and tender, if a bit disarmingly pink on the inside (though the texture reveals that it is indeed done, despite its appearance).

Lumpy Potatoes - Parc, Please Take Note

Taking the first few bites, my friend is convinced that there is peanut butter coating the skin, a flavor which I pick up on only once in dozens of mouthfuls, so either she received the peanut butter half of the bird or she secretly had a PB and J for lunch, and it is just now rearing its head on the proceedings.

You Say Peanut Butter, I Say Crazy

The chicken meat itself is unbelievably moist and succulent - it is indeed just about the most perfect roast chicken one could ask for, and it is far and away superior to the one Booze Before Books was served at Barbuto.

Not to Mention That We Can Hear Ourselves Think

The accompanying plate of wings and legs are also quite enjoyable, if even pinker than the breasts. And of the accompanying sides, the potatoes stand out as being chock full of chunky happiness, a direct contrast to the baby food consistency of Parc's potatoes and much closer to Vodka's ideal texture.

Hey Chicken, Lay of the Rouge Next Time

However, despite the fact that this chicken is pretty much the best you can find, I can't quite bring myself to give it 5 stars for a few reasons:

1. It is, at $74, hardly a bargain, even when split between two people.
2. While I would come back to Craigie on Main to eat, I wouldn't insist on eating the chicken again. In fact, I'd probably insist on trying something else, simply because...
3. ...it is still JUST A CHICKEN. We don't like to order chicken. Chicken is boring. We can make chicken ourselves. So yes, Craigie on Main's is the most delicious variety to date, but they can't overcome the mere nature of the ingredient itself.

And to be honest, a flavored vodka or two wouldn't have hurt either.

Craigie on Main's Whole Roasted Chicken: 4 stars

Off the Map: Best $30 Fungus We Ever Ate

2012-01-17T18:26:00.002-05:00

Grilled Mushroom Stack -- o ya, Boston, MA
o ya

As alluded to previously, Vodka spent part of her younger years traveling to Boston because it is the home of her inexplicable childhood hero, Nancy Kerrigan (inexplicable because Vodka barely knows how to ice skate and Nancy Kerrigan seems to have about as much personality as a beige throw pillow). Like all obsessions in Vodka's life (closest reference point: this blog), this one was taken to the extreme. Case in point: Vodka, at age 12, could be found in the kitchen of Nancy Kerrigan's parents' home chatting with Nancy's mother.

For the record, this is not the kind of fandom behavior I would advocate.

Anyway, this explanation of Vodka's Boston-based background is not relevant in any way except a) the topic of Nancy Kerrigan became a great point of discussion between Vodka and her BFF, the trolley tour guide, on her solo trek around the city, and b) Vodka is clearly more than comfortable acting like a complete whack-job within the confines of Boston's city limits.

And Thanks, Tour Guide, For Taking Me to See the Church Where Nancy Got Married. Way to Enable the Crazy

As Celine Dion continues to belt out "All By Myself" deep within the recesses of Vodka's mind, she heads to o ya for her last solitary dining adventure of the trip. She is seeking the grilled mushroom stack, as recommended by Frank Bruni on the SLICED episode of Best Thing I Ever Ate.

Well, Not So Much a "Stack" as a "Platter"

Earlier in the day, Vodka had called and had the first of many inane conversations she would have with the very friendly staff of o ya:

"Hi. Do you have a bar or are there only tables?"
"There's a chef's tasting bar. Would you like to make a reservation?"
"What if I only want to eat one dish at 5:00pm? Can I just come in then?"
"By yourself?"
"Yes."
"To eat one dish?"
"Yes."
"Which dish?"
"The grilled mushroom stack."
"Um... yes. What's your name?"

And so, when Vodka arrives at o ya (located in a somewhat random area near South Station, the building looks so nondescript that you would think you were entering an abandoned warehouse were it not for the Japanese symbol on the front door handle), her reputation has obviously preceded her.

Hunker Down, Fish - There's a Weirdo About to Arrive

First of all, the restaurant is not yet open (though no staff meeting is in progress, so that's a plus), and Vodka is the only one present. Approaching the hostess stand, I begin my spiel: "Hi, I called earlier. I just want to eat the grilled mushroom -- "

"Oh, THAT's you."

Great.

In spite of this greeting, all three staff members at the hostess stand, along with my waiter, are extremely accommodating in the face of this odd request, albeit highly curious as to my motives. One of the hostesses has the chef start cooking my grilled chanterelle and shiitake mushroom sashimi (with rosemary garlic oil, sesame froth, and soy) immediately, a process I can observe from my seat at the (again, completely abandoned) chef's tasting bar.

Thankfully, I'm Pretty Adept at Talking to Myself

In the least threatening way possible, one of the staff members gently questions what the heck my point is in being here, and when I explain the Best Thing I Ever Ate mission, they seem slightly relieved that they are dealing with only an OCD-like overeater and not a stalker of the country's finest mushrooms. It soon becomes obvious that this staff member has informed the rest of the workers as to what I am up to, as they all begin wishing me luck on the remaining courses that evening (well, except for the chefs behind the tasting bar itself, who seem to find it odd that I am, for instance, taking photographs of a cat-shaped chopstick holder).

I Found My Cat's Christmas Present for Next Year

When the waiter arrives with my gorgeous plate of long-sought-after mushrooms, I interrupt his culinary explanation with, "I know this sounds psychotic, but can I just pay now? I need to be in Cambridge in 20 minutes." When I relate this interruption to my friend at dinner that evening, she explains why such displays of social oddity have not gotten me placed in a mental institution yet: rather than hiding behind the veneer of believing what I do is "normal" behavior, I "paint it red." I call attention to it. And let's be honest: this mutual philosophy is partly why Ginger and I are not only friends, but why have not yet been murdered for, say, trying to instruct deli workers how to make a sandwich, or for shielding our bread plates with the forcefulness of a knight. We know what we're doing is partially insane -- best for us, and the rest of the world, to put it out in the open and just go with it.

And Tah Dah - You Do So and You're Served Mushrooms Before the Place is Officially Open

Anyway, back to the mushrooms: to sum them up, they are absolutely worth all of the nonsense surrounding them. Sliced thin and sprinkled with foam (a substance which usually reminds Vodka of shampoo but here is quite perfect), they are the ideal combination of salty, garlicky, and vaguely sweet, and they have the slightest hint of a truffle flavor. Crunchy on the outside with tenderness in the middle, the mushrooms themselves rival those in the polenta at Scarpetta.

The dish is a revelation.

Mushrooms Lathering Up Their Scalps

Dabbed on top of the mushrooms are a few springs of what I assume are green onion, though I at first believe a Christmas tree must have shed some needles on the plate. Even though these onions are the only sprig of color, the mushroom stack is the most refined presentation I have seen so far in Boston, even compared to the eccentricity of the smoked hamachi. Even more importantly, its taste lives up to its appearance, and the dish is by bar the best $30 fungus I have ever eaten.

Ginger: "So Let Me Get This Straight: The Best Thing You Ate in Boston Was a MUSHROOM?!"

As I dash out of the restaurant, the ever-polite and helpful staff ask if they can help me get a cab, a final gesture of service that gives o ya extra credit over their already 5 star status. Vodka, though, insists she knows her way to the Red Line and skedaddles out of the place, content in the knowledge that she has upped her personal Inane Boston Behavior quota by another degree.

This Platter Was Licked Clean, By the Way

And to close this tale of absurdity, Vodka would like to employ one of her favorite quotes of all time, one she has kept as a personal mantra since just around the time of the Nancy Kerrigan fandom and which sums up perfectly the manner in which Ginger and I go about our lives, and this blog:

"When in doubt, make a fool of yourself. There is a microscopically thin line between being brilliantly creative and acting like the most gigantic idiot on earth. So what the hell - leap." -Cynthia Heimel

o ya's Grilled Mushroom Stack: 5 stars*

*Certifiable Best Thing We Ever Ate

Off the Map: Don't Make the Mistake of Ordering a Whole Pizza

2012-01-11T18:58:00.004-05:00

Boston Bibb and Watercress Salad -- Figs, Boston, MA
Figs

Before Vodka can go any further into her Boston Best Thing I Ever Ate eating adventures, she needs to describe how she spent the morning prior to her lunch at Figs. Specifically, how she took a trolley tour of Boston by herself. And by "by herself," she does not simply mean "without a companion" (though this was also the case).

Somebody Come and Play

No no -- Vodka took a two-and-a-half-hour tour of Boston aboard a trolley with NO ONE ELSE PRESENT. Well, except for the driver/tour guide, otherwise known as Vodka's new best friend.

This Would Be Humiliating If It Weren't So Hilarious

Being that the image of Vodka's solitary Paul Revere-like ride through Boston is pretty much the entire punchline of that tale, there is not much more to relate. But needless to say, Vodka has now not only cemented her place as a) a Trolley Tour VIP, b) a Trolley Tour annoyance who refuses to hop on OR off, and c) an overall lunatic.

You're Welcome for the Tourist Dollars, Boston

After Vodka finally deigns to depart her fateful tour, she wanders across Boston in search of Figs, where she is meeting another college friend in order to consume Duff Goldman's favorite NUTTY dish, the Boston Bibb and Watercress Salad, featuring toasted walnut dressing and Maytag blue cheese.

Well, "Blue" Is Relative in This Case

Despite her lengthy one-on-one escort through the Boston streets, including the very one that Figs is on, Vodka at first walks right by the place and then has to do some major backtracking down the quaint ambiance of Charles Street.

For Christmas, Boston Bought Me a Building

When she eventually arrives at Figs, the place is packed with lunchtime diners, and it is, unfortunately, dreadfully loud. Restauranteurs really need to start looking into acoustics when they design their spaces, or Ginger and I are going to be deaf by the time this eating tour is through.

Deaf and on a Doctor-Imposed Low-Carb Diet

In front of me, two middle-aged women are badgering the hostess about when a table for three will open up. The hostess tells them a half hour and offers them the option of three bar stools instead - an option that would completely ruin my immediate life as only four bar stools are present. Luckily, the women take just long enough pondering their decision for me to hop on two of the remaining stools and await my (apparently one and only, based on the morning's trolley tour) friend.

That's What Friends Are For

When my friend arrives, we set about ordering our lunch - Vodka the Best Thing I Ever Ate salad and her friend, the gnocchi. Though the pizza looks luxuriously tempting, Vodka's former roommate had warned her that morning, "Don't make the mistake of ordering a whole pizza" (a mistake which, ridiculous as it may sound, the roommate had obviously made at Figs before), and so Vodka is conscientious not to do so. After all, she still has a full evening of Boston eating ahead of her.

And She Has Already Gotten Sidetracked by a Non-Itinerary Bowl of Chowder Earlier in the Day

When our lunches arrive (along with, naturally, our wine, presented in Ginger's hated teardrop glasses), Vodka instantly writes the gnocchi off as being mushy, though her friend finds it enjoyable (frankly, no gnocchi will ever be able to compete with the scrumptiousness of that served at Jane).

Dear Restaurants, Please Study What "Al Dente" Means and Start Applying It to Gnocchi

The salad, in contrast, is full of crunchy texture and is exceedingly fresh. While each ingredient tastes as if it were procured mere minutes before, the combination of them all is slightly off-putting to Vodka's tastes. First of all, the blue cheese, as blue cheese tends to be, is pungent. Very pungent. So pungent that it would take a very strong flavor to overtake it, which the salad tries to do in the form of the overtly sweet walnut dressing.

Holy Lot of Cheese, Batman

Unfortunately, while I like sweet and salty things together, I take less of a liking to sweet and pungent couplings, and I begin trying to eat each component of the salad, including the actual walnuts, separately. Finally, there is the issue of the crouton-like bread fixtures scattered around the plate, which are not garlicky enough to really be croutons and seem to be jam-packed with raisins or cranberries (which is a whole other mismatch in flavor).

Are They Croutons or Olive Garden Bread Sticks?!

I will say that despite my friend's warning, the pizza looks like it is the best thing on the Figs menu, and I would venture back again if only to try it (the bathroom, however, is so teeny that I fear I wouldn't fit inside after such pizza consumption). I would also make it a point to arrive after 2:00pm, when the restaurant became all but silent and I no longer felt like I was dining in a middle school cafeteria.

Cafeteria-Style Plating? You Be the Judge

After we leave Figs, we head to the Cheers gift store down the street so Vodka can purchase some "Where Everybody Knows Your Name" shot glasses, proving that, once again, she has never met a tourist trap bar she doesn't like.

Especially one that is featured along Vodka's very own Boston trolley route.

Whether or Not They're Always Glad You Came

Figs's Boston Bibb and Watercress Salad: 3 stars

Off the Map: This Bun is Overcome with Nuts

2012-01-10T19:57:00.001-05:00

Sticky Buns -- Flour Bakery + Cafe, Boston, MA
Flour Bakery + Cafe

As a caveat, Vodka does not understand why one would ever choose a sticky bun over a cinnamon bun. Cinnamon buns include, well, cinnamon, cream, thick dough -- all things that renew one's faith in the world. Sticky buns include... stickiness.

Somebody Fetch Me a Wet Nap

This Boston visit is not Vodka's first exposure to the Flour Bakery + Cafe sticky bun. When she ventured to the city last December to visit the same college roommate, she acquired a few of them to shlep back with her (these were the days before the Best Thing I Ever Ate official mission, if not awareness). By the time the buns were tasted the following day, Vodka had decided that it must have been staleness holding back the deliciousness. After all, when is Bobby Flay ever wrong about anything (faulty choices from our favorite frenemy, Buddakan, aside)?

Now Vodka fears that after a second Flour sticky bun try (at 7:30am when they are fresh out of the oven no less), she and Bobby simply do not always see eye-to-eye.

And With That Proclamation, Vodka Guarantees That She Will Never Be Offered a Guest-Judge Position on "Throwdown"

Vodka has only been to the Flour on Farnsworth Street in Boston, though there are apparently other locations sprinkled throughout the city. When she and her hosts arrived during the morning rush to procure their breakfasts, it is appropriately noted that the place is teaming with "crunchy people." You know the type -- those who genuinely enjoy granola and tofu, and not just because they feel they have to in order to maintain a "healthy lifestyle."

The Type That Also Enjoys Bakeries with Warehouse Decor

Needless to say, these are generally not our types of people. We're not hip enough to be crunchy, let alone free-spirited enough. We are, after all, allowing a strict eating itinerary to rule our lives at the behest of no one.

We order the infamous sticky bun, along with the brioche au sugar and a croissant. At first, Vodka is overcome with joy at the free water stationed on the coffee bar, which, despite how trivial it may seem, she sees as a major plus (and she may or may not single-handedly drain half of their water jug dry).

Never a Good Sign When the Free Water Is the Highlight of the Morning

Moving onto this Best Thing I Ever Ate SIMPLY IRRESISTIBLE sticky bun: the first thing to note is that not only is the thing drenched in a sticky goo, but it is also overloaded with a variety of nuts. Now Vodka, despite her own nutcase tendencies, generally does not enjoy nuts, especially in desserts. She also hates items which hug your fingers in griminess for the rest of the day, so clearly, this sticky bun is starting off at a disadvantage.

Pecans = Always Resistible. Sorry Bobby Flay

Cutting the bun into pieces that can be maneuvered more easily, we each take a taste and are summoned into silence. As Ginger and I have noticed before, if we say absolutely nothing when we taste a Best Thing I Ever Ate dish, it is neither a good sign nor a bad sign.

It is simply a sign that the dish is 3 stars.

Someone Has to Take a Class on Knife Skills

Flour's version is probably quite superior as far as sticky buns go. It did, after all, beat Bobby Flay in a throwdown challenge. But for us, there is nothing very memorable about it. The cake part lacks the light airiness of the brioche (which proves to be the best breakfast choice of the day) and the buttery warmth of the croissant.

So In Sum, Boo on the Cake

The goo is sweet and relatively pleasing, but it is so laden with nuts that it's almost forgettable (plus, it has barely seeped into the crevices of the cake itself, which makes the whole thing drier than we think it should be).

Seriously, Where Is All Of That Promised Goo, Flour?!

To give Flour some kudos, the place is extremely well-staffed, organized, and efficient despite the crush of the Friday morning baked good-seekers. And many other of their menu items look like they would be amazing - gingerbread smothered in coffee cream and a gourmet Pop Tart among them. But the sticky bun leaves us rather cold, not to mention sticky.

Come to think of it, no wonder Flour offers their customers free water. It's supposed to be used to wash their hands of goo.

Flour Bakery + Cafe's Sticky Buns: 3 stars

Off the Map: If It Weren't for the Trash Can, We'd Have a Lot of Leg Room

2012-01-09T20:24:00.001-05:00

House-Cured Corned Beef Brisket and Caramelized Cabbage -- The Franklin Cafe, Boston, MA
The Franklin Cafe

In The Franklin Cafe's defense, we were not in the proper mindset when entering its doors. Having just come from four quiet, appealingly lit restaurants, we were not prepared for the onslaught of darkness, noise, and lack of seating that washed over us the minute we entered the premises.

Who Ever Heard of Risking One's Hearing in Pursuit of Cabbage?

And as we have mentioned many times before, we hate nothing more than loud, dark restaurants. We don't want to shout and we don't want to reach out blindly in search of our food. And even without Ginger present, Vodka can almost hear her grumbling about the situation the entire time she makes her way into The Franklin Cafe with her equally high volume-averse friend.

Franklin Cafe Seems to Be into Supersize Wreaths This Year

Finding no seats at the bar nor at the nine surrounding tables, we ask a waiter where we should go in order to be assured the next open booth.

"Just stand anywhere in the restaurant," he answers, which is just about the least helpful response we have received in Boston thus far.

We decide to saddle up to the trash can at the end of the bar, prime position for hopping on the next available stools. Vodka, once again, is trying to order her latest obsession, flavored vodka and club soda, and she is appeased to learn that the Franklin Cafe is not only allowed to serve hard alcohol (ahem, Oleana), but they have a wide variety of flavors available. We tuck into our blueberry vodka soda and beer and preemptively order our corned beef and cabbage, hoping that seats will open up before our third dinner of the night arrives.

Or Else We're Going to Blind You All with Vodka's Camera Flash Until You Leave

As if sent a message from the Best Thing I Ever Ate COMBOS gods of Adam Gertler, the gentlemen at the two closest stools get up to leave just as our scalding cast iron pan of Irish delicacies arrive, and we leap onto their vacated seats with the speed, if not nimbleness, of two cats.

No Comment on How Closely Our Desired Dish Resembles Cat Food

Unfortunately, we have not managed to completely escape our old pal, the trash can, as Vodka's friend comments, "If it weren't for this trash can, we'd have a lot of leg room," but we simply tuck our ankles under our stools and sink our forks into the platter before us.

And Throw This Dimly-Lit, Mediocre Bread into Said Can

At first glance, at least from what we can see of it, the corned beef appears extremely fatty, verging on Fatty Crab levels. Unlike Fatty Crab, actual meat is present with this fat, so the whole thing is not a complete debacle. It takes little more than a stab of the fork to recognize that our knives will not be needed, as the beef itself is so tender that it practically melts into the spokes of the fork.

New Campaign Image for "This Is Why You're Fat"

The first bite of the combined beef and cabbage is relatively pleasing, if a bit on the greasy side. As the meal goes on, however, we find ourselves needing more and more of the sides of sea salt and Dijon mustard in order to make our way through it.

And If a Sprinkling of Salt Is the Highlight of a Dish, Well...

While the taste of it is not bad, it is also not something we would seek out again, especially with the cave-like atmosphere of the bar itself.

May or May Not Be Plastic Silverware

And plus, considering we get subsequently lost in the wilds of Dorcester on our way to the Red Line, we don't think we'll be making our way to South Boston again any time soon. Especially if it's only in the pursuit of fire and cabbage.

The Franklin Cafe's House-Cured Corned Beef Brisket and Caramelized Cabbage: 3 stars

Off the Map: Waitress, I Think My Drink Is on Fire

2012-01-06T17:25:00.002-05:00

Sakura Smoked Hamachi Sashimi -- Oishii, Boston, MA
Oishii

We have determined that Chef Ting San of Oishii Boston must have been a pyromaniac as a child. How else do you explain that of the three things we ordered at his restaurant, two of them were on fire?

We Didn't Start the Fire

True to form, Vodka and her friend have arrived at Oishii after traipsing through slightly disarming South Boston and have asked to forego their reservation in order to sit at the sushi bar. When the waitress arrives seconds later to help us, we confront her with "Do you have the smoked hamachi tonight?" as we are seemingly incapable of reading the menu ourselves.

Hooked on Phonics Doesn't Work for Boozers

She assures us that they do, and we place our order for one, along with two cocktails (unfortunately, based on Ginger's absence, there is no one around to order the "Ginger Manhattan," which would be the most aptly-named drink ever, if only it included the word "Tipsy" as well).

Also, The Entirety of This Pickled Ginger Would Have Been Consumed By Now

Before we can so much as get ourselves situated, our complimentary appetizer of shot glasses of edamame mousse arrive. Now, Vodka is not the greatest fan of edamame, especially in pureed form, so one taste of the stuff with her miniature wooden spoon leaves her grimacing in horror ("No wonder it's complimentary," her friend remarks).

Not the Kind of Shot We're Used To

We decide that when we do eat edamame, it is for two things: the salt and the texture, so when both of those components are taken away and replaced with a pudding, the results are not all that successful.

Though If Anyone Would Like to Replace This With Vanilla Pudding, Who Would We Be to Object?

Even before our drinks arrive, a busboy presents us with a scarily tall wine glass, covered on top with a glass coaster. Before Vodka can manage to snap a picture of the proceedings, the busboy whips off the coaster, and smoke billows out of the glass, three-alarm-fire style. It seems Ming Tsai wasn't kidding when he chose this as his favorite SMOKY dish on Best Thing I Ever Ate.

Most Disproportionate Glassware Ever

Picking up our first piece of sashimi with our chopsticks, we take small bites and discover that the fish does indeed have a slight hint of charcoal from the redwood chips scattered in the glass.

I Don't Know About You, But I Always Eat My Sushi with a Side of Ashes

Thick and meaty, especially in terms of typical fish served at a sushi bar, the hamachi itself is savory, but the accompanying sauce in the glass is so sweet that Vodka feels the need to smother her pieces in actual soy sauce in order to combat it.

Luckily, We Have Been Provided With Ample Amounts of Soy Sauce

"Are we supposed to eat the coffee beans?" my friend asks as we reach the bottom of the precariously thin-stemmed wine glass. There are, in fact, enough coffee beans in the bottom of the glass to last a local Starbucks at least two minutes of brewing time, though we decide they are not meant to be edible. Overall, while the flavor of the smoke is rather interesting, we find that it doesn't linger for long, and while we would like to come back to Oishii to try other things, we would not necessarily need a repeat performance of this particular dish.

It's Also $20. Just Throwin' That Out There....

And then, there is the subject of our cocktails. By the time they arrive, we are all but finished with our barbeque-in-a-wine-glass, only to find another witch's brew-like concoction being placed in front of Vodka's friend.

The Better to Drink You With, My Dear

The color and taste equivalent of adult fruit punch, it emits an unending stream of liquid nitrogen smoke which lasts even longer than the smoked sashimi had, and we are amused, and slightly drunk, at the ridiculousness of it all.

Pink Drinks Built for Tweens

Plunking down our credit cards for our highly agreeable waitress (who, to her credit, does not laugh mockingly at our kids'-first-fireworks reaction to the fiery dishes), we retreat to the bathrooms, which are just about the nicest we have ever experienced at a sushi place (Morimoto and their full service toilets aside). As we make our way out to the chilly streets of Boston, it seems only fitting that our breath forms clouds of moisture in front of us as we walk, providing us with our very own smokescreen as we leave the Oishii experience.

Oishii Sushi's Sakura Smoked Hamachi Sashimi: 3 stars

Off the Map: Over the River and Through the Woods to Not-Harvard We Go

2012-01-05T20:18:00.002-05:00

Azuki Cream Croissant -- Japonaise Bakery and Cafe, Cambridge, MA
Japonaise Bakery and Cafe

In the past, Vodka has come to Boston primarily for one of the following two reasons: Nancy Kerrigan and Harvard. While the previous reason may be the one to come with the more absurd stories, the Harvard connection is significant only due to the fact that Vodka had believed up until this point that Harvard is the ONLY thing in Cambridge, MA. (Well, she knew MIT is there, too, but did not care).

This misbelief is the reason that Vodka asks her friend no less than a dozen times during our two-mile trek from Oleana to Japonaise Bakery and Cafe, "But where's Harvard?!"

And Also, "Why Do People With Such High IQs Not Know How to Light a Christmas Tree?!"

It seems Cambridge is actually quite large and contains areas that do not directly border Harvard Square. Vodka continues to find this point unfathomable as we make our way towards our first taste of the Azuki cream croissant, which was chosen by Ming Tsai on the FRENCH FAVORITES episode of Best Thing I Ever Ate.

So Apparently, This Was NOT Made in the Harvard Dining Hall

Adding insult to Vodka's Cambridge confusion injury, it begins pouring rain in the middle of our journey, and by the time we arrive at our destination, we are soaked and vaguely hostile, and Vodka has still not been given a clear idea as to where Harvard is in relation to this place.

Wandering around the equivalent of the world's tiniest shopping mall, we eventually stumble upon the Cambridge outpost of Japonaise Bakery and Cafe and order one Azuki cream croissant. Taking up residence on the closest wooden bench, we open our paper bag and prepare to dive in.

Classy Dining Arrangement

And at first glance, the "cream" in this cream croissant appears to be completely missing.

Hello 911? Our Croissant's Cream Has Been Kidnapped

A thin pastry shell envelops the center in which we imagine the cream once stood proudly. Now, it is little more than a withered teardrop within a mound of dough, a haphazard sprinkling of sugar having soaked into almost every part of this dessert.

Come Out, Come Out, Wherever You Are

Taking the first bite, my friend remarks that, despite the cream's withering nature, it is impossible to eat this creation without getting some on one's nose. We also discover that at the bottom of the croissant, there is a dark, chocolate-looking filling that, unfortunately, tastes very little like chocolate.

"I think it's bean. Red bean. It tastes like bean," my friend determines. "Can I say 'bean' one more time?"

And despite how many times her friend says it, Vodka cannot figure out why bean has any place in a cream croissant dessert in the first place.

Croissant By Way of France, By Way of Japan, By Way of... Mexico?

Overall, the whole thing is on the bland side. The cream has dissolved to such a degree that it barely leaves an impression, and considering it looks like it's supposed to be the dessert's focal point, this is far from ideal. The pastry is not particularly crumbly like a typical croissant, and it is more chewy than melt-in-your-mouth. We decide that if the additional filling had been actual chocolate rather than this bean substance, the whole situation could have been much improved. As it stands (or not, in the case of the cream), we are not overly impressed, as Vodka is certain that she has had more authentically French desserts at the France pavilion at Epcot.

But Let's Be Real - What's Better Than Epcot?

Whipping out our increasingly disintegrating itinerary, which is now more than a little damp, we begin to prepare for our next stop when my friend remarks what a great bench this is for people-watching. As if one cue, the sound of carolers can be heard entering through the the front door of the "mall," revealing a family of three breaking out into a full belt of "We Wish You a Merry Christmas." Along with our continued amusement at a pizza delivery guy who, for the entire time we have been sitting on this bench, has been unable to locate his pizza recipient, we decide that all is not lost in Cambridge.

Except, that is, Harvard.

Japonaise Bakery and Cafe's Azuki Cream Croissant: 3 stars