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Next-Gen Chimichangas

The one and only Who Song & Larry's via 360 Drinks

The one and only Who Song & Larry’s via 360 Drinks

In news that might possibly only be of interest to those who grew up in the suburban Portland-Vancouver metro area, Who Song & Larry’s, the Jose Tejas of the Northwest (Who Song & Larry’s is really an El Torito in disguise while Jose Tejas is a stealth Border Cafe) is revamping. Or rather, the name is being appropriated for a new concept altogether.

Who Song & Larry's for young people.

Who Song & Larry’s for young people.

It will become a “Mexican gastropub” for the millennials, you know? There will be communal seating, shared plates, and food and drinks served in jars, obviously. The menu isn’t online yet, but I’m 85% certain kale and a moscow mule variation will make an appearance.

No comment.

No mustache motifs?

New generations of teens will never know the joy of spending Easter eating chimichangas and virgin margaritas with their parents, then ditching the family to go drink 40s in the Rose Garden afterward.

All Cried Out

In addition to the very important and sporadic work being done on Palate Patrol 2014, I will now be updating Food That has Moved People to Tears: A Crybaby Compendium indefinitely.

The two new entries couldn’t be more different:

  • This isn’t the first time Cronuts induced tears, but likely the first time from a former club kid fresh off a 17-year prison sentence.
  • It took a little more to set off René Redzepi’s waterworks. Specifically “…a just-cooked langoustine, lying on a bed of rocks, curled up under wisps of pine smoke. The only garnish was a black salt made by drying seaweed, the way the Faroese produced what little salt they had for centuries.”

 

Eaten, Barely Blogged: Three Continents, Three Boroughs

onomea kalua pig

Onomea Despite New York Times attention and practically being across the street from my apt, I have always been resistant to Onomea. Maybe it’s all the starch. Maybe it’s the small menu. There are really only five entrees and drinks-wise, three beers and two rums that you can mix with fruit juices like strawberry-guava. The mom-and-pop vibe works, though. Being NYC, the portions are reasonable and there’s a salad taking up one quadrant of the dish, a green anomaly you wouldn’t see sullying a plate lunch in Hawaii. The kalua pig, pulled roast pork shoulder that’s not wildly dissimilar to North Carolina bbq, feels like mixed-up picnic fare when taken with bites of rice and macaroni salad. The appetizers will have to wait–my dining companion doesn’t eat pork or raw fish, squelching any shared poke or spam musubi.

donostia quad

Donostia With Huertas just a few avenues over, the East Village is turning into a pintxos destination. I’ve yet to see anyone capture the San Sebastian spirit fully, but at least we’re getting closer. Txakoli is on tap and montaditos are the showpiece, displayed on the counter yet prepared to order. Grilled halloumi and mackerel breaks the cheese with fish rule deliciously while thick aioli topped with curling octopus legs, and razor clams anchored by a white bean puree both present seafood on bread in a more traditional manner. Of course, you can also just have Spanish charcuterie and cheese.

uma plov

Uma’s I’ve never been down with the whole still burgeoning Rockaways scene, but sometimes you acquiesce. Uzbeki food seemed like an odd choice for the neighborhood, odd enough to try. The service and food were a little wonky, which wasn’t unexpected considering the lackadaisical energy heavy in the air. The beef in the plov was tender, not too lean and almost lamb-like (the meat I really wanted) in flavor. The rice, though, was just shy of fully cooked, creating a chew that nearly reminded me of the grit that kept turning up in my mouth after sitting on the windy beach near a crumbling dune. That said, I would still go back. It’s a popular place and nearly nothing on the menu is over $10.

Eaten, Barely Blogged: Double Happiness

qi floating market stewed beef noodles

Qi Thai Grill Sometimes a craving for Chinese food can be satisfied by looking southeast instead. Every so often, especially when I’m feeling rundown, I really want a bowl of Hong Kong-style beef brisket noodle soup (a la Mak’s) without leaving the house. Even if I wanted to leave the house, I’m not sure who does a good version of this in NYC. A satisfying alternative for me (native Hong Kongers, please don’t go crazy on my ass) is the floating market stewed beef noodle ($11.90) at Qi Thai Grill. Ok, you won’t find bean sprouts or beef balls in the original and the broth is a little oily, but the flavor is exactly I’m looking for: deep and rich with star anise, ginger and cinnamon, and body from the tendons. When I’ve tried making this at home, it always comes out wan and lacking. It’s best sipped when extremely hot and you’re on the verge of getting a sore throat. And for lunch, the $5.50 five spice stewed beef soup is essentially the same thing, just in the smaller size takeout container minus the noodles. Perfect if you’re an afternoon carb-avoider and can’t stand another salad.

peking duck house

Peking Duck House is no Decoy, at least I’m guessing, but still a perfectly good standby especially if you just want the duck, no nonsense, and happen to have a bottle of 2009 Domaine de l’Horizon Blanc rattling around in your bag. (I used to be very down on diners who brought their own wine to dim sum restaurants and taquerias, but now I’ve matured and stopped judging others–or rather, now have a friend who sells wine and usually has samples to share.) A $38 duck split however many ways (two is generous, three would work too) is hard to beat. Plus, a duck in a chef’s hat? Come on.

10pm Snack Just Doesn’t Have the Same Ring To It

The May issue of Saveur is a composite of meals progressing from day to night. Among the late night snackers, a list that includes missives from Martha Stewart and Traci des Jardins, lurks a standout from Kathleen Hanna.

She sings sugary praises for cake batter-flavored vending machine F’real milkshakes worth sneaking into FIT for, then concedes “If F’real is not available, I just down a gingerbread martini at Outback Steakhouse.”

BUT the Chelsea Outback Steakhouse, which one would assume is the Outback Steakhouse in question, closes at 10pm (11pm on weekends) which would render the chain useless for a true midnight snack. It do like the spirit of this story, though.

 

Sunday Snack Update

yogurt ads

Fage doesn’t even make it into important discussions like which Greek yogurt brands spends the most on advertising, but we all know that Fage is the only American Greek yogurt worth eating end of subject.

The interlopers just won’t quit. I’ve settled for Chobani against my better judgment. Dannon Oikos, Yoplait Greek and Trader Joe’s version (and every other private label brand), however, have no reason to live.

And now even Newman’s Own has jumped into the mix, touting “big pieces of real fruit on the bottom.” You know who also has fruit at the bottom? Fage.

In unrelated newborn news, 7-Elevens in Texas are now serving breakfast kolaches (haha, “Czech Out.”)

Meanwhile, Häagen-Dazs in the US thinks it’s hot shit for adding limited edition flavors like Midnight Cookies & Cream (even though it has existed off and on since the ’90s), Banana Split and Pomegranate Dark Chocolate when we all know that Japan is getting Carrot Orange and Tomato Cherry. There are no secrets on the internet.

And because a subset of Americans now seem to follow every fast food invention abroad, you probably already know that Burger King in Malaysia is now serving triple-patty burgers topped with nachos to promote Godzilla. I did not until I woke up and saw it on my Facebook feed (with a far more realistic photo).

 

Brace For Bhut Jolokia Mayo

There’s no doubt that Americans are increasingly into spicy food. Look no further than the mainstreaming of Sriracha and chipotle everything. How many decades has that stat about salsa outselling ketchup been floating around?

Food service research firm Technomic solidifies this with figures showing that last year the number of Americans who prefer their food “very spicy” tipped over to the majority (54%) for the first time.

The Wall Street Journal provides some examples of packaged food brands getting into the spicy food game like Kraft going beyond pepperjack with Hot Habenero cheese and Bumble Bee adding jalapeños to its gourmet line of canned tuna, but the premise that spicy food creates loyalty is sort of bizarre (as is lumping in Cracked Dijon Mustard Ball Park hot dogs when really the story is about heat, not strong flavors).

I did learn one thing, and it’s that young people and Latinos aren’t the only ones to blame in this crusade against blandness. Old folks and their deadening taste buds must also take some responsibility.

The Post-Millennium Chains of Middlesex County New Jersey: Seasons 52

The Post-Millennium Chains of Middlesex County New Jersey explores the brave new world beyond Olive Garden and Red Lobster that’s thriving just west of Staten Island.

The shtick: All “seasonally-inspired” dishes are under 475 calories. You might see lamb or asparagus in spring, for instance.
The signatures: Cedar plank roasted salmon, flatbreads.
The new Bloomin’ Onion: Unfortunately, nothing is fried. The lump crab, roasted shrimp & spinach stuffed mushrooms do come with a parmesan-panko crust, at least.

My second experience with Seasons 52 has given me a better grip on the chain’s M.O., not that it’s hard to grasp (think anti-Applebee’s). Just a few months ago this new branch sprung up in the Menlo Park Mall’s parking lot down by the ’80s, vaguely art deco sign. Menlo Park is no King of Prussia. Reservations are available through Open Table, making it the classiest Darden brand by far, and you’ll need them on the weekend. Even with reservations, it’s likely you will still have time for a drink at the bar before your table is ready–just like a real city restaurant. There is a piano player in the bar where booths are first come first serve. I mean literally behind the circular bar there’s a guy pounding out Stevie Wonder or taking requests while servers scurry around picking up trays of rosy Strawberry Basil Fusions (strawberry-infused Prairie Organic Vodka, agave nectar and basil) and Pomegranate Margarita Martinis that are neither margarita nor martini.

seasons 52 cocktails

Do note the Prairie Mule. Moscow Mule variations are very in at chains and probably the biggest crossover drink of the year, I’m guessing because they’re really just a gingery vodka soda in a cooler cup. Brooklyn-chic shops like West Elm and the ecommerce arm of Food52, which I always want to call Seasons 52, both sell the copper mugs.

seasons 52 double date

Photo: Seasons 52

This is exactly how I imagined my party of four appeared. Exactly. The advertised “casually-sophisticated adult ambiance that feels inviting” is no joke. Warm wood is inter-cut with stone mosaic walls, high ceilings are crisscrossed with rafters that evoke an upscale ranch, and open shelves of wine act as room dividers. The epitome of a grown-up restaurant.

After a few stops in New Jersey to see if anyone carried the Times-approved 2009 Haut-Medoc Bordeaux (Wegmans, of all places, came through) I had to order a glass of 2010 Chateau de Parenchère Bordeaux just because there was a Bordeaux on the menu at all. Never mind that it was the wrong vintage and region. I’d also made a Costco trip that inspired me to buy a huge jug of Woodbridge cabernet sauvignon as a gift for one half of my double date because they live in neighboring Woodbridge, NJ (duh).

seasons 52 appetizers

Chilled lobster & shrimp spring roll and blackened steak & blue cheese flatbread with cremini mushrooms, spinach, caramelized onions.

The food is what would happen if Cooking Light came to life as a restaurant, except that everything is plated in a slightly nicer manner than you might bother with at home–most dishes are presented with some sort of flourish like table-side saucing–and your portions are meted out, no seconds because you were left unsatisfied. Proteins are modest and bolstered by other on-trend components and lots of adjectives are applied to make perfectly fine, but never quite delicious food sound more craveable.

seasons 52 turkey skewer

Hence, the Plainfield farm turkey skewer, grilled vegetable-farro pilaf with zinfandel bbq glaze. Farro not rice, glaze not sauce, zinfandel not wine, and the metal rod (shown in this much prettier publicity shot) is pulled from the poultry cubes in front of your eyes.

seasons 52 steak salad

The steak salad comes trapped in a clear plastic ring mold, half-a-foot high. After being lifted up by a server, the leaves tumble out to join the fingerling potatoes, charred onions and medium-rare slices of meat. I could not even tell you what the dressing was since the point is shaving calories, not creating lush memories for life.

seasons 52 mini indulgences

The best part might be the dessert course a.k.a. mini indulgences. Normally, who cares about sweets at chains, but it’s hard to ignore the selection that’s placed on the table–especially since each flavor is highlighted with a penlight as its being described. I guess someone has to run and grab another glass of goop if more than one person wants the same thing?

seasons 52 pecan pie

Yeah, this is a pecan pie. If you’ve ever wondered what mini indulgence you would be, here’s a quiz for you. I’m a Rocky Road because I’m a “quintessential chocoholic,”  thanks for asking. Buzzfeed, Seasons 52 is not.

Seasons 52 * 217 Lafayette Ave., Edison, NJ

End Times

New non-lame brioche bun. Photo: Ricardo Ramirez Buxeda/Orlando Sentinel

New non-lame brioche bun
Photo: Ricardo Ramirez Buxeda/Orlando Sentinel

I woke up feeling not quite right, a malaise I initially attributed to poor sleep and unsettling ’90s boyfriend dreams possibly induced by too much Thai food (Larb Ubol really is the best of the Ninth Street bunch, by the way) and few too many beers at tourist-filled Irish bars near Penn Station. But now I recognize that the unease must have something to do with all of the sudden changes surfacing in the chain restaurant universe.

I got a hint last week when I read about Tony Roma’s (yes, it still exists) adding fish and couscous and Hard Rock Cafe swapping out the processed cheese on its nachos for a cheddar and jack blend. But today we reached a tipping point, and the potato bun-hating, salted caramel-loving millennials have finally won. Since I decided to get out of bed, I’ve discovered the following:

Ok, I’m going back to bed now.

The Best Dessert You’ll Ever Eat Off a Rubber Sheet

Recent dessert trolling (I don’t actually consider being contrary or even intentionally rabble-rousing to be trolling, but you know) got me thinking about my never-posted visit to Alinea last fall. I favor traditional desserts, by which I mean sweet, gooey and substantial. I’ll eat your spruce-and-stone soup, but how about a towering layer cake bulging with veins of frosting afterward? Accompanied with a quenelle of nasturtium sorbet and crumbles of “soil,” if you must.

Alinea, despite the pageantry and production, produced a real dessert. One that pushed me over the precipice from sated to stuffed while raising my impression of 13 creations I’d been presented with. At the end of the meal, you’re presented with a menu to remind you of everything you just ate, the procession sort of being a surprise if you ignore diners who arrived earlier. Each course represented by a circle with a circumference in proportion to the amount of food. The server even commented that the dessert circle, deceptively medium-large, didn’t seem drawn to scale.

king crab

First, an institutional gray waterproof cloth is laid down. And because I was on my tenth and final wine pairing at this point (never mind the pre-dinner pints at the only restaurant open before 5pm in the immediate vicinity, a seafood joint with an adorable crab with a toupee logo where I was preemptively warned against using Groupons during happy hour) I said, “Oh, a rubber sheet” aloud instead of keeping my bed-wetting thoughts to myself.

alinea creme de violette

A stubby glass of what appeared to be Creme de Violette and turned out to be exactly that was set down. Everyone secretly knows that the liqueur tastes like Sweet Tarts, but the color is so crystalline and pretty that you want to assign more sophistication to it.

alinea pate sucree, violet, hazelnut

I did not take a video because I don’t do such things (or even bring my SLR–half-way through I did start taking iPhone pics, despite a promise to myself to focus on the food and company, because the tables were so well spaced that the act was extremely unobtrusive) but if there was a dish crying out for such treatment, this would be it. Crumbles are set up in the round, bolstered by a metal mold, and topped with a layer of brown liquid. Then the purple liqueur is joined by a fuchsia partner and a white cream to be dotted and swooped across the table in a seemingly spontaneous, but clearly orchestrated manner. In the meantime, the centerpiece has gelled into a cake. Meringue moon rocks are strategically placed and the edible tableau is dusted with silver and purple glitter. Ok, and a leaf.

Now you can dig into what the menu calls milk chocolate pate sucree, violet, hazelnut.

alinea pate sucree, violet, hazelnut done

No one forces you to eat the whole thing.

alinea duck accompaniments

Up until this point, the duck only described as ……..?????…………!!!!!!!!!!!!! and accompanied by a board of condiments ranging from single leaves to a yolky blob topped with saffron to a white powdery cylinder, had been the most wowing. The duck is probably still my favorite, and just as fun, but I have to give props to a tasting menu dessert that over-delivers.

Alinea * 1723 N. Halstead, Chicago, IL