Off the Map: Save Your Beads, New Orleans; We'll Take Your Gnocchi

Potato Gnocchi with Blue Crab and Perigold Truffle -- Restaurant August, New Orleans, LA

Restaurant August

At long last, Vodka and her friend, Whiskey Sour, have made it to New Orleans. 

Better Late Than... Really, Really Late

As seemingly the last two adults in our social circles who have yet to descend upon the Big Easy, we have arrived in Louisiana armed with a packed itinerary full of recommendations, must-dos, and a lengthy Best Thing I Ever Ate list.

Okay, NOLA, Show Us What You've Got

Our first stop, within mere minutes of arriving, is Restaurant August, which is blessedly located a stone's-throw from our hotel. 

But Never Fear - We Still Got Lost Getting Here

Boasting a 9:00pm reservation (which, with the time change, makes it 4.5 hours after Vodka's preferred dinner time), we settle into enjoy the potato gnocchi with blue crab and perigold truffle, as raved about by Aaron Sanchez on the IN A BOWL episode of the show. 

Classy Place, Sorry for Mucking It Up With Our Presence

But first thing's first: this is New Orleans after all, and we need a drink stat. Abiding by the theory that the second-cheapest bottle of wine on the menu is actually the worst, we splurge for the number one least-expensive bottle of rose. 

In Other Words, the Cheapest

Moments after toasting our long-awaited trip, as our amuse bouche, we are each gifted with a hollowed out egg shell stuffed with some sort of parmesan cream, and amuse us it does. 

Well, Aren't You the Cutest?

We are just barely above cracking the shell open in order to lick out each morsel of delicacy within. In fact, we are so overwhelmed by this start to the meal that when the busboy comes to clear our places, Whiskey Sour hands him her solitary empty egg shell, seemingly forgetting how plates work.

"Do You Guys Have Free Refills?"

Next comes a pre-split portion of Caesar salad with prosciutto (throughout the meal, Restaurant August is extremely accommodating about cutting our portions in two so we don't end up eating Lady and the Tramp-style). 

It's Like They Knew We'd Make a Debacle Out of Having to Share a Plate

While the salad is scrumptious, it is not the reason we are here. In fact, the gnocchi is the only part of the meal we asked for two of, lest we have to share any bit of it with the other. 

KEEP YOUR FORK ON YOUR SIDE OF THE TABLE

When it arrives, it is every bit as decadent-looking as Aaron Sanchez had described. Small, perfectly formed gnocchi are topped by pieces of crab, layers of truffle, and a heavy offering of creamy sauce.

Not Just In a Bowl, but PERFECTION In a Bowl

 The minute the first forkfuls hit our watering mouths, we are moaning.

We Like to Provide Our Own Soundtrack

The dish is truly exquisite in both presentation and flavor: rich but not overwhelming, with a lovely assortment of textures and tastes. Within the pasta and truffle cream, the crab becomes almost an afterthought, but it also cuts through the preponderance of dairy to add a touch of brine. 

The Real Mardi Gras Celebration

If anything, we think Restaurant August should serve this as an entree, rather than as an appetizer, because we definitely could have eaten more of it (and, two days later, we do).

But More on That Story Later

We use the remainder of our bread (which is also superb) to sop up the rest of the sauce before our next course arrives: a scallop dish which is a) also delicious and b) also split in half.

A Rather Hefty Portion, Considering This Is Only Half of It

By the time dessert rolls around, we are too full to function, but not too full for Vodka to ask if we can get one scoop of brown butter ice cream. Again, to our waiter's great credit, he does not so much as blink at this request, though he also does not deign to carve the scoop in two.

Sugar Sphere

As parting gifts, we receive two miniature key lime pies and pralines, along with to-go cups with which to consume the remainder of our rose. 

We Should Have Brought a Cooler for Easy Transport

In sum, the worst part about Restaurant August is that it has set our expectations for New Orleans almost unobtainably high. The location, service, ambiance, beverages, and food here are nothing short of splendid, and it is a place we continue to think of fondly throughout our trip.

Asking for a Cocktail Doggie Bag Will Never NOT Be Amazing

Now, if only they made roadie cups for gnocchi to accompany our takeout rose.

Restaurant August's Potato Gnocchi with Blue Crab and Perigold Truffle: 5 stars*

*Certifiable Best Thing We Ever Ate

Off the Map: This Is Slightly Irregular

Chorizo Stuffed Dates -- Avec, Chicago, IL
Avec

To sum up the problem, Avec hates us.

On our first day in Chicago, they completely ruined our perfectly planned itinerary by being CLOSED for a private event.

On our second day in Chicago, they inundated us with passive aggressive attitude.

Not cool, Avec.

Nothing Like Being Tortured in the Name of a Gross-Looking Date

As you might recall, our waitress at Publican had gotten wind of the fact that we wanted to go to Avec to try their chorizo stuffed dates, as recommended by Chris Cosentino on the IN A BOWL episode of Best Thing I Ever Ate.  Being that she apparently works at both institutions, she had suggested that we come back the next day and ask for her.  Now, it is worthy of mention that the entire time we were at Publican, we could not tell if said waitress liked or hated us.  To say we were getting mixed signals would be an understatement, as she would switch from mildly befriending us to looking at us like we were the biggest idiots she'd ever seen without a moment's notice.

Therefore, color us surprised when she suggested that we ask for her the following day at Avec.

Okay Lady... Whatever You Say...

To set the scene, Avec features an outside "patio" where people can stand around large barrels and drink.  Not eat -- just drink.  The reason for this dichotomy is never explained.  Instead, the hostess states that they "can't serve food outside."  We then proceed to have the most wishy-washy, passive aggressive conversation of our lives:

"Okay, we just want to eat the dates, so...?"

"Do you want a table?"

"We'll sit at a table, but we really just want to eat the dates, so is that still okay?"

"You can eat the dates at the bar."

"Okay, so we can just sit at the bar?"

"Well, there isn't room."

"So you want us to sit at a table?"

And so on and so forth.

In the midst of this entry into the Avec Twilight Zone, our long-lost "friend," the waitress from Publican, comes bounding to the front of the restaurant to greet us.  It is worthy of note that she is truly BOUNDING, seemingly pleased that we have come back to her other place of employment.  And we (naively) think that she is going to help clarify the situation with this hostess who refuses to just SAY WHAT SHE WANTS US TO DO IN ORDER TO EAT THE DATES.

Nope.

Avec, You're Losing Stars By the Minute Here

At this point, fed up and completely off schedule, Vodka hones in on the only free bar stool directly across from the hostess and takes matters into her own hands.  "We'll order from here," she states, to which she receives blank stares.  Coming back to earth, our waitress lays plates and napkins in front of us and says (again, in a COMPLETELY passive aggressive tone!), "This is slightly irregular, but I'll let you guys do it since you came back."

So just to clarify, guys, WHAT DID YOU WANT US TO DO?

Besides, Presumably, Leave

To make a long and tortured story short, we proceed to hover at said stool for the next hour (yes, a full hour -- one would think they'd be eager to get rid of us and would speed up the process), which is apparently how long all of our haters at Avec have decided it takes to whip up four dates for us.  When they finally arrive, they are on par in size with the Extra Virgin meatballs -- so large that the Jolly Green Giant wouldn't be able to fit one into his mouth.

So Just to Confirm, It Took You SIXTY MINUTES to Pull This Cutting Board Together?!

We each remove a serving from the bowl and attempt to cut it apart.  Slightly stringy bacon is wrapped around each sphere, with blood-red chorizo meat spilling out of the center.  The date is pretty much hidden from the eye, and the platter comes with a solitary roll to accompany the softball-size concoctions.  Cutting them up into bite-size pieces, we take our first taste -- and true to Avec itself, Ginger finds them passively good, and Vodka thinks they're aggressively bad.

Seriously Now, Does THIS Look Appetizing to You?

To Vodka, there is nothing appealing about these creations, neither with their components separated or together.  The dates are pretty much a non-entity, masked by the other flavors except for a small hint of sweetness towards the end of each bite.  The chorizo is spicy and so red in color it is disturbing to look at, and the bacon is so fatty that it is almost enough to induce a gag.  The bread does not add much to this combination, as it's dry and crumbly and not even useful for lapping up the sauce.

In theory, Ginger agrees with all of these points -- just not as "aggressively" as Vodka does.

Which Is Pretty Much Par for the Course

In the end, Vodka is unable to polish off a single date ball, while Ginger makes her way through a couple before abandoning ship.  To the bitter end, we are incapable of discerning the wishes and motivations of the Avec waitstaff, including our frenemy, the waitress.  Perhaps this means that years in New York has rendered us incapable of picking up on the rest of the country's social cues.

Or maybe, as we suspected, Avec just hates us.

Avec's Chorizo Stuffed Dates: 3 stars

Off the Map: When Italians Lost Ownership of the Tiramisu

Tiramisu a la Mexicana -- Lolita, Philadelphia, PA
Lolita 

For two fools who claim to eat everything, we sure do use the disclosure "We don't normally like this dish/component/texture" quite often.  And Vodka is about to employ it again:

I do not normally like tiramisu.

For lack of a more logical reason, I tend to find the dish slobbery and dripping in burnt coffee flavor.  I would go so far to say that I have never encountered a tiramisu I have enjoyed.

Until I tried the one at Lolita in Philadelphia.

The Outlier in a Long Line of Tiramisu Failures

Dragging my accommodating Philadelphia-residing friends along to another Philly Best Thing I Ever Ate location, we arrive at the BYOB Lolita clutching a bottle of wine.  Still suffering from our Thanksgiving gorge-fest the day before, plus the half of the Sarcone's Deli sandwich we have managed to wolf down, we are not in the mood for heavy entrees, and we are especially not in the mood for dessert.  All of this ambivalence only makes our later lapping up of the tiramisu all the more astounding.

A Scene Out of the Biggest Loser Reject Pile

But first, we have to make our way through dinner. 

First up is the guacamole, which is served with a healthy portion of corn chips, plantain chips, and sweet potato chips, along with homemade salsa.

"Homemade Salsa" is an Assumption. That Could Be Out of a Tostitos Jar

Vodka, who cannot stomach sweet potatoes in any form (as opposed to our opening line cop-out, they are truly one of five foods she despises), sticks to the corn chips, which she finds salty and perfectly crunchy.

Also, Plantains Just Seem Like Sad Bananas, No?

The guacamole, too, though less chunky than other restaurant varieties, is also quite good, if a bit heavy on the avocado itself.  (And yes, Vodka recognizes the fact that, as Ginger pointed out, this is a ridiculous statement, being that guacamole is, in essence, avocado).

But This One Is Particularly Grinch Green, Right?

For our "entrees," Vodka orders the romaine and asparagus salad, and her friends share the shrimp enchiladas.

And Now, for the "Thrifty Eating" Portion of the Blog

The salad is ten times heavier on the romaine portion than the asparagus (the hunks of lettuce on the plate are so large that James should keep them in mind for any potential Giant Peach sequels), and it is also spicier than one would expect a salad to be.

Salad from the Garden of the Jolly Green Giant

The part of the enchiladas that my friend manages to not dump all over the table in an effort of "sharing" are awash in cheesy goodness, and best of all, our waitress does not seem perturbed by the fact that we are eating like certifiable cheapskates.

Clearly, Lolita is Fond of Their Green Foods

And then we come to dessert.

The tiramisu a la mexicana is Robert Irvine's choice from the IN A BOWL episode of Best Thing I Ever Ate, and based on his liking of, say, over-pureed mashed potatoes, I am skeptical of the variety of baby food that is about to appear before us.  Instead, the waitress brings a small serving bowl with a mountain of cake, chocolate, nuts, and oodles of whipped cream piled in the center.

Well, Hello There, Friend, May I Call You "Tira" for Short?

Scooping up the first bite, I expect a coffee-laden dessert a la the worst barista Starbucks ever hired.

And instead I find heaven.

Vodka's Personal Image of the Pearly Gates

First of all, there is the whipped cream.  There is just so much whipped cream.  Having been known to squirt Reddi-Wip directly into my mouth during college, I am a certifiable sucker for whipped cream, especially the homemade kind, which Lolita's appears to be.

But Much Like Their "Homemade Salsa," This Could Also Have Come from a Can

Sprinkled on top of the whipped cream is a smattering of toasted hazelnuts, which balance the mushy texture of the rest of the components and bring a comforting snap to the spoonfuls.

Snap, Crackle, Pop, Then Moan "THIS IS FIVE STARS"

Praline mascarpone cream mixes in with the whipped cream, and the lady fingers, which have been soaked in kahlua and espresso, have become so moist that they are downright layer cake-like.

This tiramisu is a wonder.

At the Rate We Were Going, I'm Surprised We Didn't Eat the Garnish

Despite the fact that the tiramisu is very rich, we reach the bottom of the bowl sooner than anticipated, assured in the knowledge that even though the Italians may have invented junk yard special hoagies and rectangular tiramisu, the Mexicans have improved the latter dish by leaps and bounds.

Perhaps now they can take on those pesky sesame seed-covered, jaw-breaking Italian rolls.... 

Lolita's Tiramisu a la Mexicana: 5 stars*

*Certifiable Best Thing We Ever Ate

We'll Take a Side Order of Everything

Ukrainian Borscht -- Veselka
Veselka

We think we have determined why we do not like Veselka as much as we should.

Renowned as a 24-hour Ukrainian comfort food eatery in the East Village, Veselka is beloved among both late night munchers and, even more so, recovering hangover sufferers.  All two times that we have now been to Veselka, we have decided that their food would taste great if we were hungover.  Unfortunately (or fortunately, as the case may be), we are hardly ever hungover.

We always have our cocktails much too early in the day for that nonsense.

Arriving at Veselka after our blintz brunch at B&H Dairy a block a way, we are none too excited for the Best Thing I Ever Ate course on the menu: the Ukrainian borscht, chosen by Ted Allen on the IN A BOWL episode.

Borscht = the Frau Blucher of Soups

Our problem with the borscht concept is that neither of us likes beets ("Beets taste like dirt to me," says Ginger), and beets are kind of the whole point of the soup.  We mean, it is purple, after all.

Or Fire Engine Red, Depending on Your Camera Exposure

Already hopping with straggly-looking revelers by the time we arrive, the Veselka hostess gives us the choice to wait fifteen minutes for a table inside, or to sit outside immediately.

"Outside," Vodka says, never afraid of a little 50-degree breeze.

"Nooo," Ginger moans, but she is more afraid of making Vodka wait not-so-patiently than she is of freezing to death, so she relents.  (Ironically, when we are given our glasses of water, Vodka's has five times the amount of ice as Ginger's; clearly, the staff at Veselka have a sixth sense about which one of us is a polar bear).

Well Played, Veselka

"Can we get a side order of kielbasi?" Vodka asks when the waitress appears.  "And a side order of potato pierogies, not fried?  And a small bowl of borscht?"

"Essentially, a small order of everything," Ginger mumbles under her breath. 

Our borscht arrives a minute later, and we both examine it with fear in our eyes.  It is indeed Barney purple, but thicker and less baby food-like than we had anticipated.  Ginger is taken with the smattering of dill that has been sprinkled on top, and Vodka with the side of sour cream and solitary piece of bread.

No Need to Call in the Gerber Baby for This One

"They only gave us one spoon, so you're going to have to take the plunge first," Vodka tells Ginger.  Reluctantly, Ginger scoops our lone spoon into the soup.

It Was a One-Bowl, One-Spoon Flyin' Purple People Eater

Swallowing her first taste of borscht, Ginger has only one illogical comment: "Should the beets be removed it would be delicious."

As we pass the spoon back and forth like refugees, and as Vodka adds more and more sour cream to the proceedings, we come to the conclusion that this borscht concoction is significantly better than we ever thought it would be.  It is thick and hearty, and while we had feared that we would be swallowing spoonful after spoonful of those dreaded beets, we instead find beans, carrots, potatoes, and meat also swimming in the broth.  The sour cream certainly helps, but overall, the borscht is pretty good, especially considering both of us hate its main component.

Could We Just Get Three More Pints of Sour Cream, Please?

The pierogies are fairly tasty - they are much better when they're only boiled, as Veselka, like B&H Dairy, likes to fry things until they are almost unrecognizable.  Vodka believes they could use butter, but considering she consumes most of the plate herself, she's not complaining too much.

We Title This "Still Life of Pierogie"

The same leniency cannot be granted to the kielbasi, which Vodka leaves to Ginger to finish after she finds it way too tough and rubbery (this is a Ukrainian restaurant, after all, and Vodka is used to such delicacies prepared the Polish way).

That Knife Is a Bit Ambitious for the Size of That Sausage, No?

As we wait for our check, Ginger mutilates her last bite of kielbasi ("I'm trying to scrape off this gunky part," she explains maturely) while Vodka looks on in confusion.

Someone Give This Girl a Butter Knife

In fact, we're not sure what's more perplexing: Ginger's murderous tendencies towards a slab of garlic sausage, or the fact that a whole half of our bowl of borscht has actually disappeared.

Veselka's Ukrainian Borscht: 3 stars

Off the Map: Mushroom Miso Soup... When Mushrooms Aren't in Season

Miso Soup – Miyake Restaurant, Portland, ME
Miyake Restaurant

Apparently, May is fiddlehead season in Maine.  Vodka Stinger learned this from her Maine-based aunt, who told her to order anything with fiddleheads that she finds on the Maine restaurant menus.  Dutifully following directions, Vodka orders the fluke special with fiddleheads at Street & Co. at her dinner in Portland.  Not really knowing what fiddleheads are, they taste mildly of asparagus, and they are indeed fairly scrumptious.  In fact, my travel partner and I would have added Street & Co. to our own personal Best Thing I Ever Ate list.

Those Green Doodads are Fiddleheads

Unfortunately, we cannot say the same for Miyake Restaurant.

Alex Guarnaschelli featured Miyake Restaurant on the IN A BOWL episode of Best Thing I Ever Ate, spouting on about the unexpected deliciousness of their mushroom miso soup.  Usually believing in Alex’s taste to a tee, Vodka and friend head to Miyake for lunch after their whoopie pie and a trip to the Portland art museum. 

In Search of Maine Miso

Being that we arrive exactly when the restaurant opens (11:45am – we presume that it closes at 6:00pm like everything else at Portland), we are the only ones in attendance.  We are told off the bat that they do not serve beverages of any kind – only water – so if we want another kind of drink (including soda), we should go to the deli next door.

We assume this is a Maine kind of policy.

Anyway, we order the lunch special, which consists of miso soup, a salad, and an entrée.  And this is when the trouble begins.

They Also Threw in This Appetizer for Free

Always being one to clarify, Vodka asks the waitress to confirm the miso soup is in fact the mushroom one featured on Best Thing I Ever Ate.

And it’s not.

Again, WHAT?!

Call me crazy, but if a restaurant is shown on a television program, the featured dish should ALWAYS be on the menu.  No exceptions.  Miyake does not seem to share this sentiment.

They explain that the mushrooms that are in that particular soup are only available in October and November, but since we have no plans to go back to Portland in the fall (or probably ever), we both temporarily consider walking out before proceeding with our meal, including non-mushroom miso soup.

Severely Lacking in Mushrooms

The soup arrives, and it is pretty much the same as that which can be found at any Japanese restaurant in the country.  Sans tofu, it consists of only broth, kelp, and scallions.  It is not bad by any means, but it is decidedly nothing special.  The same can be said for the salad – standard and edible, but not particularly memorable.

But It Makes for a Pretty Picture

The sushi rolls of the day are more interesting, though they are entirely too large to be eaten in one bite (which is what we consider the bastion of a proper sushi roll), and they featured at least four kinds of fish which, while perfectly tasty, remind us of the scrapple that one finds in South Jersey diners (aka a little of everything left over in the kitchen).

A Frankenstein of Fish

In short, Miyake is a perfectly adequate Japanese restaurant (of which there are a proliferation in Portland – who knew Maine was a hotbed of Japanese cuisine?).  However, until they figure out a way to get mushrooms in their miso soup year-round, we will have to deny them anything more than an average rating.

Oh, and bite-size sushi rolls would also be appreciated.

Miyake Restaurant’s Miso Soup: 3 stars