Off the Map: Mostly Closed in Texas

BBQ Beef Brisket -- North Main BBQ, Euless, TX

North Main BBQ

If there is one fatal flaw in our blog -- or, we suppose, in any food-related review endeavor -- it's that personal taste accounts for quite a lot. In our case, this bodes well for dishes involving, say, liquor, pasta, and cheese, and less well for those with beer, sweet potatoes, and apparently, smoked meat.

Please Pass the Spaghetti

See, the thing is, it's not that Vodka dislikes barbeque, but it is not something that she ever, EVER seeks out. 

Except, Of Course, for OCD Blog Purposes

This is possibly not the best state of mind in which to be while slithering around Texas in search of brisket, specifically that which Ted Allen highlighted on the BAR-B-QUE episode of Best Thing I Ever Ate.

So... Is This All That's Left?

When Vodka, Whiskey Sour, and Diet Coke arrive at North Main BBQ in Euless, TX, we are humored by the enormous signs posted outside delineating when they are open (or more aptly, when they are NOT open, which is every day that is not a weekend). 

A Work Ethic to Emulate

Upon entering, we can't locate the BBQ or the restaurant itself, as the entire view is blocked by gargantuan piles of disposable plates.

The Wizard of Oz Version of BBQ

Once we make our way around the structure and request an order of beef brisket, we are immediately given an inquisitive look. "Why just the brisket?"

Um, Does Beef Brisket in Dallas Really Need a Reason?

Whiskey Sour and Diet Coke give Vodka a metaphorical nudge, and she explains that we are here at the instruction of Ted Allen. 

Who Failed to Mention That North Main Also Possesses a SOFT ICE CREAM Machine

With this news, the North Main employees seem to take a liking to the northeasterners seemingly overwhelmed by the platters of beef before them, and they begin doling out their delicacies willy nilly.

We'll Take One Order to Share... Or Three Plates Worth. Either One

We assemble ourselves at one of the communal tables with our styrofoam cup beverages, and Diet Coke, who chooses Diet Coke (naturally) is in the midst of a declaration about how "Diet Coke drinkers tend to be very functional -- they're in high places." 

Yes, Well, So Are Whiskey Drinkers

Before we can take a bite, one of the North Main beef men scampers over holding "meat candy," which he deposits on our plates, along with some choice burnt ends, as "Ted Allen's favorite part of the brisket." 

A Sensible Mid-Morning Snack

While we are impressed, and quite heartened by the cordiality, this also means that we now have overflowing plates of BBQ before us, and we are feeling a tad overwhelmed.

Looks Like We're Gonna Need More Paper Towels

Thankfully, a few bites into the brisket, it proves to be just as delectable as Ted Allen had described. 

Meat Candy Featured in Front

Tender to the point of true melt-in-your-mouth goodness, it is flavorful even before the addition of sauce. 

Though Naturally, Vodka Still Drowns It in Sauce, Because It Is a Condiment

In fact, the brisket here, along with the pork ribs, are even more pleasing than the versions we tried the night before at Pecan Lodge, which is considered by many to be some of the best barbeque in Dallas, and Whiskey Sour and Diet Coke would venture to say that the brisket alone is truly the best they have ever had anywhere.

BBQ Tray From Pecan Lodge, for Comparison

And Vodka? She doesn't disagree. The brisket is very, very good. But despite the satisfied moans coming from across the table, she just can't bring herself to rank it a 5 star dish. 

Despite Its Dearth of Hours, the Place Isn't Exactly Bumping with Business....

And herein lies the flaw in the system of food, and taste, and all sorts of subjectivity -- it's always a matter of personal preference. And barbeque, no matter how outstanding, would never be something Vodka would choose over, for instance, a heaping bowl of pasta.

After All, Pasta Rarely Gets Cooked in the Garage

Anyone Have a Doggie Bag?

Once we have properly stuffed ourselves, Whiskey Sour wraps the rest of our provisions in an origami of paper napkins, and we head off in search of the Fort Worth rodeo -- or in other words, to brisket's prelude.

Land of Annie Oakley

Brisket on Parade

North Main BBQ's Beef Brisket: 4 stars

Into the Boroughs: Harriet the Spy, Pizza Edition

Arugula and Parmesan Pizza -- Graziella's, Brooklyn, NY

Graziella's

As previously mentioned, Di Fara lost their privileges regarding having us rate their allegedly 5 star pizza with a poorly timed "oven malfunction."  Because by the time we arrived back at their subway station from Brighton Beach, the door to the place was STILL not open, and there was a line stretching halfway down the block.

Watching the Di Fara Metal Grates from the Safety of a Shaded Subway Platform

And heaven forbid we wait in any line whatsoever.  It is perhaps time for Di Fara to invest in a Disney World-esque FastPass system.

Your Wait Time Is....

Still in the mood for pizza, but without the patience to wait for one at the restaurant right in front of us, Ginger discovers that Graziella's, home of Ted Allen's chosen Best Thing I Ever Ate arugula and parmesan PIZZA, is a mere 15 minute walk from a Q-line stop.  Could this Brooklyn adventure be saved yet?

Yeah, probably not.  Remember, we are a crabby people.

And Plus, This is Our Life Philosophy

Vodka quickly secures us a reservation at Graziella's while we are en route, under the supposition that all pizza places in Brooklyn feature crowds with whom we won't want to deal.

OpenTable Reservations = Our Own Personal Version of a FastPass

Luckily for us, Graziella's is apparently not one of the chosen ones, as by the time we arrive for our 2:00pm hastily made reservation, we are two of five customers in the entire place.

Which is just the way we like it.

Empty Chairs and Empty Tables

We ask for a table on the roof deck, and not only because children under 12 aren't permitted up there ("Well, isn't that a lovely bonus").

Although If They Don't Trust Children to Not Fall Off the Roof, We're Not Sure They Should Trust Our Clumsy Selves

We are told to choose whatever table we like, and so we pick one under a shady umbrella... directly next to the roof deck's only other patron.

Said Table Also Features a Gigantic Pole in the Middle Which Prevents Us from Looking at Each Other

"Just call us Little Owl right now," Ginger mumbles, though in our defense, our choice seat is one of only two other tables featuring an umbrella, and either of them would have placed us within spitting distance of the other customer.  After all, she's the one who chose to sit in the middle of the roof, rather than in a dark corner, which is always our top choice.  So obviously, the fact that she will now have to listen to our inane conversation is HER fault.

Blame the Victim

First things first, we get ourselves two hefty glasses of wine, as it is now hours past our preferred day-drinking kickoff time.

Two Large Pours, Please, and Make It Snappy

While we peruse the menu, it becomes abundantly clear why there are so many tables open on the roof deck -- the place provides a front row seat to the loudest church sermon ever being broadcast from next door.  We manage to talk over the various blessings enough to order both the arugula and parmesan pizza, along with another pizza with caramelized onions and mushrooms.  ("Do we want small or large?" "There are only two of us -- you want to get two LARGE pizzas?!").

Good Thing We Didn't Go for the Larges....

Excuse Our Over-Consumption, Graziella's -- All We've Had to Eat Today is Stale Cake 

As we sip our wine, Ginger tries to regale Vodka about the injustice of the fact that there isn't a bread basket on our table, a rant Vodka is clearly not paying attention to.

"Sorry, I'm just taking notes," she finally explains.

"You say that as if that is a normal excuse in the real world," Ginger points out.  "You're like Harriet the Spy."

If Harriet Did Nothing But Eat and Drink All Day

Nearly before Vodka can jot down this gem of an exchange, our pizzas arrive, and we stare at the pile of fresh arugula skeptically.

What Is the Meaning of All of This GREENERY?

"You know, I really hate arugula," Vodka says.

"We should've ordered the arugula and parmesan pizza, hold the arugula," Ginger agrees.

Yes, Hi, Could Someone Come Serve Us? We Don't Know How to Slice This Thing

While Vodka takes at least three dozen photos of the proceedings, Ginger all but polishes off her first slice of Ted Allen's Best Thing I Ever Ate pick.

It's Scary That Ginger Is Actually the MORE Patient of the Two of Us

"Well?  How is it?" Vodka asks.

"Meh," Ginger responds with a shrug.  Before tasting her own, Vodka dumps some salt onto her slice ("You should live in Houston.  My mom says they salt Chinese food there."  "I salt Chinese food."). 

Let's Quadruple Our Daily Recommended Dose of Sodium, Shall We?

The pizza -- the pizza which we have traipsed over half of Brooklyn and to two different pizzerias in order to eat -- is good enough.  The arugula is blessedly rather muted in flavor, and the crust, while extremely thin, isn't crunchy (we hate crunchy crust).  In fact, the dough is somehow pita-like in texture, which is not a bad thing -- it is just rather... odd.

We're Going to Start a New Television Program Called 'Things We Ate That Were Fine'

We wolf down both pizzas, along with two glasses of wine each, at rapid-fire pace, undeterred even when a huge glob of cheese is found (by our own doing) floating in Vodka's chardonnay ("There is parmesan in my wine, of note").

A True Wine and Cheese Mash-Up

In truth, we are essentially so happy to be a) sitting, b) eating, and c) drinking, that we're rather jolly about the whole experience.

After All, They DID Give Us Carbs and Wine -- What More Should We Want?

And then the bill comes, and an 18% tip is pre-added in.

Is It Because We Made Them Walk Up and Down a Staircase?!

Um, is Fort Greene, Brooklyn, the new Times Square?!  What is the meaning of this madness?

Clearly, the Creepy Doll Who Hangs Out by the Cash Register Is Behind This

Now, would we have given an 18% tip or higher anyway?  Yes.  Believe it or not, as long as things don't come to major blows with the waitstaff, we are rather generous tippers.  But the principle of the fact that Graziella's would add this in preemptively has put us in a mood.

A mood that has resulted in our inability to do math.

How Ginger's Bill Looked for a Solid Ten Minutes

It seems that despite the fact that Graziella's has dictated what we should tip, when it comes down to signing our actual credit card bills, they have not deigned to do the addition for us.  And based on our current two-pizza-and-two-glasses-of-wine-in state, this happenstance has us flummoxed so completely that our respective second grade math teachers should be ashamed.

This Is Why We Majored in Food and Not Mathematics

We eventually manage to utilize our elementary school math skills and add up the totals before stumbling back down the stairs and out onto the sidewalks of Brooklyn, feelings of unwarranted accomplishment in our chests.

Or, as our friends at the church next door would say, "Glory, hallelujah!"

Graziella's Arugula and Parmesan Pizza: 3 stars

Into the Boroughs: Lost in Brooklyn -- A Memoir in Gin

Gin Blossom -- Clover Club

Clover Club

It never fails: send Vodka to Brooklyn, and she is bound to get lost in ten seconds or less.

What Is This Foreign Land?

Being that Ginger has recently moved to the oh-so-distant borough, we have been spending a tad more time in the place (read: Vodka has been here twice in six months).  A half hour after exiting the subway stop (a "five minute walk" from Ginger's apartment, unless you head in the COMPLETELY WRONG DIRECTION), Vodka stumbles into Ginger's new abode.

"Do you ever get lost here?!"

"Not really, but I only walk from the subway to my apartment and back," Ginger responds, which explains quite a bit about our mutual tendency to "hermit" ourselves.

We Like to Stay At Home to Keep an Eye on Our Liquor Cabinets

Vodka tasks Ginger with the job of leading us to the Clover Club, where we are going to consume Ted Allen's Best Thing I Ever Ate BEST I EVER DRANK cocktail, the gin blossom ("In 'not shocking' news, I think we've tasted almost every one of the items featured on the BEST I EVER DRANK episode.")

We Like to Drink Things

With the confidence of a bonafide Brooklyn resident, Ginger finds the place for us, and we make ourselves comfortable on two of the largest bar stools this side of the East River.  

A Large Throne for the Bar Queens

We then discover that the gin blossom is not on the brunch menu, at which point Vodka instructs Ginger, "Use some of your flirtation skills to get the bartender to make it for us."  Ginger nods her head knowingly, and then proceeds to "flirt," with nary a bat of her eyelashes, by asking, "Can you make us the gin blossom?"

Luckily, bartenders in Brooklyn don't seem to care much for elaborate brown-nosing, as this one accepts Ginger's "pass" with a shrugged "Sure." 

"And Now May We Have a Plate of Your Bar Snacks?"

In the fifteen minutes (but more on this later) that it takes for our blossoms to make an appearance, we decide on our menu items: the lamb burger with goat cheese and the French dip sandwich, both of which we plan on splitting.  We place our order, just as the first of our cocktails appears before us, and instantly, it looks like our type of drink.

In That It Has Alcohol In It

Not fruity, spicy, sour, or herby (all qualities we hate to varying degrees), the gin blossom borders just on this side of "crisp."  It is apparently composed of half gin, half vermouth, a splash of orange bitters, and apricot eau de vie (whatever that is).  

Presumably, It's One of These Things

The texture is rather syrupy, though it thankfully refrains from becoming sweet, and though it comes in the smallest glass we've ever seen, we each receive a large thimble-full of "seconds" in an accompanying bowl of ice chips.

We Like a Cocktail That Automatically Comes with a Refill

Overall, the drink reminds us of a slightly less successful version of the gin drinks we had at the MOMA bar and at Employees Only, and while we enjoy it, we don't love it enough to make a special trip to Cobble Hill just to down it again.  Particularly because we have now been on these stools for forty-five minutes, and we have yet to see a single scrap of food.

Look, Bartender -- We Like to Eat, Too

Now, when our brunch entrees do eventually arrive, they are admittedly quite delicious.  The burger is juicy and slathered in an abundant amount of goat cheese, the roast beef is tasty with just the right amount of horseradish spice, and the homemade chips are perfectly salty and crunchy.  

So Much Wonderful Cheesiness

Clover Club Calls Them Crisps = They Think They're British

Heading to France with Some Sandwich Dipping Sauce

Where's the Beef?

We virtually lick our platters clean as we each ask for a second gin blossom, and then, once again, we wait.  

These Glasses Aren't Going to Refill Themselves!

We wait a solid twenty minutes -- so long that the bartender (seemingly off his game after Ginger's attempts at "wooing" him) apologizes for the delay -- before our drinks are replenished (with, might we add a decidedly less generous portion of "seconds" in our iced thimbles.  Clearly, the bar-back thinks we have had enough).  

Excuse Us, This Was Twice as Full Last Time

Beginning to see a pattern in the Clover Club's serving times, we order the bread pudding for dessert as soon as we can.  And nevertheless, it is a full half hour before the caramel-encased pastry is placed in front of us.

Have We Not Made Abundantly Clear That We Are Excessively Impatient People?!

Once again, the bread pudding is excellent -- truly the best we have ever tasted.  And we both agree that we would order every single thing we have eaten and drank today again -- but we would just have to designate an entire day to doing so.

Maybe Even an Entire Weekend, What With Vodka's Penchant for Getting Lost

When we are finally ready to leave, Vodka asks Ginger where she thinks the bathroom is, only to find her examining herself in the behind-the-bar mirror.

"Hey, narcissist!  Where do you think the bathroom is?"

"I really need to get someone else to do my make-up."

"It has to be behind that red curtain.  Like in the Wizard of Oz."

"I mean, where did these dark circles come from?"

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is gin's greatest effect on us: the ability to carry on two completely different conversations at the same time.

For the Record, the Bathrooms Are NOT Behind This Curtain

Eventually, we stumble out of the bathrooms, finding them quite nice, as far as Brooklyn basement bathrooms go.  Ginger then practically hand-holds Vodka back to the subway station, lest she stumble off in the wrong direction and end up in Queens.  And somehow, Vodka finds it ten-times easier to navigate her way back to Manhattan than she did finding her way to Brooklyn.

Such newfound navigation skills, we suppose, are gin's other great gift.

Clover Club's Gin Blossom: 4 stars