Off the Map: Bread Pudding with a Side of Rum(my)

Bread Pudding -- Mother's Restaurant, New Orleans, LA

Mother's Restaurant

If you need a surefire sign that you look like a tourist who does not know the ways of the local sandwich shop, it is when you enter the place and immediately get a menu thrust in your hand and a pointing finger indicating where you should order.

Thank You, Yes, We Are In Fact Idiots

This is how we are greeted, not unkindly, when we arrive at Mother's Restaurant for Sunny Anderson's Best Thing I Ever Ate GUILTY PLEASURE, the bread pudding. 

Wall of... "Fame"?

Along with the dessert, we are also each buying a po boy to consume during our early morning flights the next day: shrimp for Whiskey Sour (to properly compare to the Domilise variety) and roast beef for Vodka.

Because Nothing Say "Bon Voyage" Like the TSA Patting Down Your Sandwich

While we arrive to a relatively empty restaurant, a sizable crowd enters right after us, making us even more pleased to skedaddle out clutching our po boys and bread pudding in the direction of the nearest bar.

No Offense, Mother's, but We Only Have a Few Hours of Day Drinking Left

We settle down in the lobby of a hotel and, after grabbing some afternoon cocktails, hoist the bread pudding out of the bag in an attempt to at least try it while it's still warm. 

Instagram-Worthy Plating?

In truth, we are not optimistic about this enterprise, as neither of us are overly fond of bread pudding, and Mother's version does not look particularly appetizing. 

Bread Pudding Is the Snaggletooth of Desserts

Reluctantly, we stick our utensils into the plastic container and raise them unenthusiastically into our mouths.

"Hmph. It's not bad," Whiskey Sour notes with a distinct tone of surprise.

It, at the Very Least, Is Better Than It Looks

Indeed, of the (very few) bread puddings we have tried in our lives, this is some of the best: the bread is light, the sauce isn't too sweet, and the whole conglomeration isn't very sticky. After expecting to toss the majority of it in the trash, we end up polishing off the entire container.

A Spoonful of Bread Pudding Makes the Sazeracs Go Down

In contrast, we do not find the po boys anywhere near the level of those found at Domilise's. But the bread pudding, while enjoyed with a side of sazerac and a game of rummy, is an unexpected delight.

Come for the Rum, Stay for the Rummy

Not a delight we feel the need to ever consume again, but a delight nonetheless.

Mother's Restaurant's Bread Pudding: 3 stars

Off the Map: Time to Move to Cleveland

Gravy Frites -- Greenhouse Tavern, Cleveland, OH

Greenhouse Tavern

Not to bury the lead on the next eleven blog posts, but Vodka has a new favorite city, and its name is Cleveland.

Oh Hello Friend, I Don't Believe We've Been Properly Introduced

In the weeks leading up to Vodka's departure to the great state of Ohio, her upcoming trip was met with anywhere from confusion ("What's in Cleveland?") to pure hostility ("WHY IN HEAVEN'S NAME ARE YOU GOING TO CLEVELAND?"). 

Listen, You Plan Your Vacations Your Way, and Vodka Will Plan Her Vacations Her Way

In fact, it has taken much longer than intended to get Vodka to grace Cleveland's cheery streets due to years of her trying, and failing, to convince Ginger that the city was worth the journey, if only for its pierogi culture.

May or May Not Now Own This

Thankfully, Vodka eventually found a willing travel companion who was up for the midwestern sojourn, if only to check state visit #32 off her list. 

You Don't See This in Manhattan

It is with this rather apathetic attitude that Vodka and her friend, Mezcal, venture two states over and find the hidden gem of the Cuyahoga River.

Despite Rumors to the Contrary, the River Is Not, In Fact, On Fire

Upon arrival in Cleveland, and still not sure precisely what we're up against in this town that no one except Michael Symon believes holds anything other than the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, we make a late-night (by our standards, as it is 9:15pm) to Greenhouse Tavern. 

Thankfully, Cleveland Appears to Go to Bed as Early as We Do

We're here for Michael's chosen gravy frites from the GUILTY PLEASURES episode of Best Thing I Ever Ate, and more importantly, for a bourbon nightcap.

Priorities, People

Choosing not to sit among the stacks of VHS tapes and hanging bicycles inexplicably decorating the (nevertheless charming) interior, we choose an outdoor table, a location more likely to provide ample entertainment by the drunken Ohio locals. 

More Scenic Than a Citi Bike Rack

An Even Larger Collection of VHS Tapes Than That Found in Vodka's Parents' Basement

A bit of order miscommunication results in two Manhattans ending up on our table, as opposed to the Basil Hayden Manhattan (Vodka) and the neat glass of High West Campfire bourbon (Mezcal) that has been requested, but we soldier on from this setback like the martyrs we are. 

One Hour in Cleveland and Vodka Chooses Not to Complain to the Waitstaff? What Is this Magical Land?

When a plate of gravy frites eventually lands in front of us, Mezcal quips, "It'll be cute when it grows up." 

Objects in Pictures Are Larger Than They Appeared

However, its deceivingly small serving size disguises the mounds of melted mozzarella hidden beneath the surface, making the dish much more satisfying than initially anticipated. 

Fears That the Fries Were of the Sweet Potato Variety Were Quickly Proven Wrong

This Cleveland version of poutine is quite delicious, if a tad heavy on the black pepper, which is so apparent to both sight and taste that its almost as if the kitchen decided to use up the remnants of all the restaurant's pepper shakers on these particular fries. 

Zoom in for Pepper Overload

Despite its peppery heaviness, we lap up the frites, deciding that, if given the opportunity to return to Greenhouse Tavern, we'd order the No Name Frites instead, which along with the mozzarella and gravy, also feature bacon, fried eggs, and whole grain mustard (and blessedly, not a hint of pepper, based on its menu description). 

Good to the Last Mound of Cheese

Still, our foray to Cleveland is off to a rousing start -- after all, what better way to be welcomed to Ohio than with globs of cheese, a bath of gravy, and a view of Michael Symon's restaurant squarely within our sights?

We See You, Lola

Greenhouse Tavern's Gravy Frites: 4 stars

Off the Map: At Least It's Not Pork or Chicken

Surf and Turf -- Restaurant Iris, Memphis, TN

Restaurant Iris

For our final Memphis Best Thing I Ever Ate dining experience, Vodka and friends decide to employ Uber to drive us ten minutes down the street so that our designated driver, Whiskey Sour, can have a cocktail (or preferably, two or three). 

"FINALLY" --Vodka

When said Uber driver arrives, he proceeds to get inexplicably lost in a parking lot, performing multiple U-turns and causing Vodka's trigger rating finger to rest squarely above two stars.

Buddy, You Are Literally Taking Us RIGHT DOWN THE STREET. Pull It Together

And then he finds "I Want It That Way" on the radio, cranks it up to a deafening volume, and instigates a full-on singalong among the four of us, and (even more miraculously) gets us to our dinner destination without too much more grief.

One Star for Driving, Five Stars for Soundtrack Selection

"Way to be saved by the Backstreet Boys, buddy," we mumble as we slide out of his car and through the door of Restaurant Iris, home of Claire Robinson's Best Thing I Ever Ate GUILTY PLEASURE dish, the surf and turf. Now compared to the other places we have ventured so far on this trip, Restaurant Iris is much classier. 

A Festive Table Which Does Not Belong to Us

Located in a converted Victorian-type house, the space is instantly charming, and we settle down at a corner table to properly complete our weekend in Memphis.

Almost Got Run Over By Our Own Uber Driver While Trying to Nab This Shot

And then they turn on the air.

Nothing Like Adding More Draft to a Drafty Old House

Now Vodka, who typically has fire running through her veins, is not easily put off by a smattering of cold air, but the wind flowing from the vent directly below our table is particularly icebergian in nature. It's so intense that our entire tablecloth begins blowing toward the ceiling, causing Diet Coke to scramble in a mad dash to get away from it.

We Didn't Realize This Place Came With Its Own Weather Pattern

Eventually, our waitress places a cocktail menu over the vent in order to shield us from its wrath, but not before Vodka has ordered the Boulevardier, and Whiskey Sour, a glass of Chardonnay. 

Not a Very Hearty Pour on the Chardonnay There, Iris

For dinner, Diet Coke chooses the lamb shank pappardelle, Whiskey Sour the Gulf Shrimp curry, and Vodka, the specified surf and turf, which consists of a New York Strip steak stuffed with fried oysters and blue cheese.

Herein Lie the Actual Descriptions, as Vodka Does Not Feel Like Typing Them

And as heavy and decadent as that sounds after two full days of non-stop consumption, at the very least, Vodka is grateful that it doesn't feature pork or chicken.

Beef: It's What's For Dinner. Thank Goodness

As we await our entrees, we are each given a deliciously warm roll to munch on, along with an amuse bouche of something that looks like a miniature avocado toast. 

Again, We've Reached the Point in Our Trip Where We Stop Paying Attention to What We Jam in Our Mouths

This Is Bread

And when the surf and turf arrives -- apparently one of the only dishes here which is never rotated off of the menu -- it looks just as ridiculous as described. 

Well, This Should Last Vodka At Least  Three Days

A solid hunk of meat rests in the middle of the plate, sliced horizontally down the middle and stuffed with fried oysters and chunks of blue cheese. 

How, Exactly, Does One Eat This Thing?

What looks like a blue cheese hollandaise sauce coats the top and spills over the side, and the whole thing rests atop a bed of diced potatoes.

Somebody Please Send Assistance

In other words, it's A LOT.

Ate All The Oysters and Five Bites of the Steak

Tasting the dish reveals it to be good, if a bit overly decadent. The steak is nicely cooked, the fried oysters are lovely (if sparse, compared to the other ingredients), and the blue cheese adds an interesting tang to the proceedings. But after a few more bites, the fact that the blue cheese seems to have seeped into every pour of the meat means that it starts to have an overpowering effect on every thing else happening on the plate. Is this dish good? Yes. Interesting? Yes. But would we order it again? No.

And Speaking of Decadent, Iris Doesn't Really Seem to Do Anything Halfway

Do Airlines Allow To-Go Bags on Board?

Of the three dishes at hand, Vodka prefers Diet Coke's lamb shank pappardelle, and she would certainly return to try other items on the menu. But the surf and turf, as guilty pleasurable as it might be, just may feature too much guilt for not enough pleasure.

The Cocktail Though? Absolutely No Guilt There

And while we enjoyed Restaurant Iris, it can't hold a candle to our true favorite place in all of Memphis, the Peabody Hotel, home of not only the famous Duck March, but also of an ornate lobby bar complete with chandeliers, piano playing, and an extensive cocktail list. 

Our Top 5-Star Choice of the Trip

So if you ask us, the Peabody should be the number one Best Thing I Ever Ate feature in Memphis. And if the Food Network doesn't agree, well, we don't really give a quack.

Restaurant Iris's Surf and Turf: 4 stars

Off the Map: Hungry Girl Should Go Somewhere Else

BBQ Pork Pizza -- Pete and Sam's Restaurant, Memphis, TN

Pete and Sam's Restaurant

Sometimes, like at Paynes BBQ, we understand exactly why a Food Network star featured the food on Best Thing I Ever Ate. And sometimes, we not only don't understand why the dish was featured, we don't even understand how the star ended up at the restaurant in the first place. 

Is This a Food Network-Worthy Restaurant or a Bojangles?

So in lies our conundrum with Lisa Lillien and her choice of the BBQ pork pizza at Pete and Sam's Restaurant. Not only is Pete and Sam's not in the heart of downtown Memphis, it's barely in the heart of anything, being that our drive there took us through some of the most wildly disparate neighborhoods possible ("Memphis: from mansions to pawn shops in three blocks or less"). After Whiskey Sour manages to corral our rental car into the parking lot (thanks for the unlit sign, Pete and Sam's. Makes you SUPER easy to spot...), we are instantly greeted by a fellow diner who decides that we look like the type of people who would like to hear her talk about how the day is blessed because rain is a blessing (side note: it's not raining).

And so, our dinner is off to a rousing start.

Can You Read This Sign? Because We Could Not

Pete and Sam's looks and feels like a throwback Italian restaurant, albeit an Italian restaurant from the middle of Tennessee rather than, say, from Rome.

Nothing Like Being Greeted By a Shotgun on Your Way to Dinner

Diet Coke and Whiskey Sour are insistent that they need some vegetables, so they decide to order a salad to share, along with a plate of toasted ravioli (which Vodka has always wanted to try) and the reason we are here: the BBQ pork pizza from the GUILTY PLEASURE episode of Best Thing I Ever Ate.

Call Us Crazy, But Even Olive Garden Looks Like More Like a Guilty Pleasure Than This Place

"What size pizza?" our waiter asks.

"Small," Vodka answers.

"How small?"

"How small can you make it?"

Oh Good, More Pork, Just What We Need

The waiter rounds his fingers into the shape of what is essentially a bagel bite, which in truth seems like exactly the amount of additional pork we'd like of to eat. Meanwhile, Vodka is scouring the alcohol list, where she finds only two options: beer (which she hates) and "wine glass (empty) each."

Photographic Evidence of This Travesty

I'm sorry... what now?! You're going to give me an EMPTY wine glass? What kind of cruel place is this?!

Take Back the Three Pounds of Bread and Butter and Give a Girl Some Booze!

Decidedly depressed over the lack of menu items featuring the word "cocktail," Vodka crankily sips her water while Whiskey Sour assesses the situation around us. It is at this time that she spots a salad coming out of the kitchen, one that is approximately the size of the aforementioned bagel bite.

Iceberg, Straight Ahead

"Um, I think we're going to need two salads," she tells our waiter as he deposits the plate of toasted ravioli on our table. While much more a staple of St. Louis cuisine than Memphis, we're surprised to find them stuffed with meat instead of the (more desirable, if you ask us) cheese. The two miniature salads appear soon after, and Diet Coke and Whiskey Sour dig in as if they've never seen iceberg lettuce before.

Meanwhile, Vodka Consumes Even More Meat

When our pizza arrives, Vodka stares at it questioningly. First of all, to call it a "pizza" is generous, as it is essentially a warmed up tortilla laden with toppings. 

Pizza in the Form of a Pita

And other than the tomato sauce, none of said toppings are anything close to the kinds usually found on pizza.

Ah Yes, Topped with the Finest Orange Cheese Straight Out of Naples

First of all, there's the cheese, which instead of the gooey mozzarella we're used to, has an orange tinge which looks suspiciously like shredded Kraft singles, and it is also just barely melted. And the pork itself, while not terrible on its own, has a decided sweetness to its sauce, which makes the whole affair in desperate need of some salt. Vodka wonders whether taking off the tomato sauce entirely, and instead dousing the creation with more barbeque sauce, might help the situation, though in truth, we're not sure there's much that can be done to save it. 

Also, It Is Cut in Strips Instead of Triangles -- Exactly Which Part of This Is Supposed to Resemble Pizza Again?

It's not that any of the components themselves are so horrific (though Vodka does take more issue with the still firm cheddar cheese than her counterparts do) -- it's just that nothing is added by putting all of them together. The whole thing is the epitome of the whole not being greater than the sum of its parts, and as Diet Coke says drolly on our way out, "Hungry Girl should go somewhere else."

Like, You Know, Pizza Hut

At the very least, Lisa Lillien should go somewhere that knows how to fill an empty wine glass.

Pete and Sam's Restaurant's BBQ Pork Pizza: 2 stars