Food Confession: No. 1

With this blog, I’ve wanted to share with you my good and bad experiences with food and wine, as well as the funny and…well, sometimes, not so funny. But am I ready to share something a little deeper, a little darker, a little more, shall we say, twisted? Do I really want to sink into those places where we almost always only whisper about behind closed doors?

I think so. I wouldn’t be doing FROTB (Frequent Readers of this Blog) justice if there were food and wine topics I shied away from, for any reason. So here goes my first Food Confession (yes, there will be others—I think).

Deep breath, hold, now exhale…. Count to five. And….

I have a favorite set of dishes.

There, I’ve said it. Here they are:

It’s the “Cabaret” series from Sango. To me, these plates and dishes and cups and sauces epitomize fun and making “every meal a feast.” They remind me of the Belle Epoque, or “Beautiful Era,” that time between world wars when Paris was vibrant and spontaneous and very much alive. Anyway, I love these with Sunday brunch…and with Thanksgiving dinner. I drink my coffee every morning in a Cabaret cup. They help put a smile on my face, make food a little more fun. They’ll never show up in one of our garage sales, as long as I’m around and kicking.

Hey, that wasn’t so bad. In fact, I’m going to share ANOTHER food confession right here, right now: I have my eyes on another set of dishes (they’ll never replace Cabaret as my favorites, but man can’t live by one set of dishes alone). Here they are. They’re the “Black Forest” series created by the artist Bodo Sperlein.


These obviously are the complete opposite of Cabaret: black and white, starker, simplistic. I, however, happen to have a thing for bare trees. I just like the looks of them. And to me they also symbolize dormancy, that rest before spring’s big explosive growth. As a writer and creative marketing guy, it’s very hard to be creative EVERY SINGLE DAY. You need that rest, those "away" times to mull, to recharge the batteries, and to…well, do nothing.

Anyway, these are expensive ($82 per dinner plate plus tax and shipping) so I won’t be running out to get them soon. But I have my eye on them. And they will be mine one day. I just don’t know when.

There. Two confessions. That wasn’t so bad.

Now, what’s your favorite food/wine item? A favorite coffee mug? Set of wine glasses? A plate handed down by Grandma Betsy? It's O.K., you're among friends. It's alright to let it all out.

Tony Alert: NEW SEASON

This coming Monday, July 30, marks the kick-off of the ALL NEW season of Tony Bourdain's television show No Reservations. FROTB (Frequent Readers of This Blog) know that Tony's show is my favorite television food/travel show. Tony, to me, blends: a former chef's knowledge of food...with an insatiable appetite to see new places...and a Hunter S. Thompson-ish ability to write. In short, it's good stuff. Don't miss the first new episode on Monday, 10:00 p.m., the Travel Channel.

Plus, there's MORE: For the August 27 show, Tony travels to CLEVELAND. That's right: CLEVELAND. Home of LeBron James, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, the Cleveland Indians, and, well...I said LeBron James, right?

Anyway, in honor of Tony going to Cleveland, here's a recipe for Deep Fried Breaded Lake Erie Perch from charter fishing captain Tricky Dick (http://www.trickydick.com/). Enjoy.

~ 3 lbs filleted Yellow Lake Erie perch
~ 2 eggs

~ 10-12 soda crackers (or "pop" crackers, if you're from Ohio)

~ Frying oil to cover the cooking fillets completely

Beat the eggs until well mixed. Coat each fillet completely with the egg mixture, then roll in the cracker crumbs. Drop the fillet into the hot oil, and cook until golden brown. (Be careful not to overcook.)

My Cup Runneth Over

The world can be a depressing place. Wars rage. Prices rise. Ice caps melt.

I, on the other hand, was born an optimist. I can always find something positive to enjoy, even savor. Take now, for example. It's the beautiful summertime with open-toed shoes and swimming and backyard barbecues. My beloved Cleveland Indians are only a game or two out of first place in the AL Central. The last poker tournament I played in, I won. I could go on. While others see the glass as half-empty, I'm definitely a half-full kind of person.

Sometimes though, by grace and mystery, my cup not only fills completely, it overflows. Like the other night. Picture this setting: I'm deep within the bowels of Howell Mountain, off the Silverado Trail in the Napa Valley...having dinner prepared by a classically trained chef (a graduate of the Ecole Ritz Escoffier at the Hotel Ritz in Paris)...while drinking wines prepared by the chef's husband, who's a classically trained (in Germany, no less) winemaker...while overlooking their Ghost Winery. Not only is G. with me, but so too are my good friends G. and R., and my friend K. and her husband C. And the chef and winemaker eat with us. It just doesn't get much better than that!

Let me introduce Richard and Leslie Mansfield. Leslie is the classically trained chef and has written 10+ cookbooks. Richard presides over Mansfield Winery, which produces ultra-premium wines. Together they host (on a referral basis only---it is their home) private dinners where they not only prepare the food and provide the wine, but dine with the guests.

For our meal, Leslie, who collects vintage menus, prepared a vintage menu for dinner. It reads like a what's-what of an incredible meal. Crostini with fig-olive tapenade; escargot from the Ritz; rack of spring lamb; mint orzo; apricot parfaits with late harvest Sauvignon Blanc toffee. With each course, Richard matched an appropriate (and, to me, perfect) Mansfield Winery wine. In short, it was the type of meal that one has maybe once every ten years. Maybe. Incredible, incredible, incredible.

My specific likes and thoughts? I've only had escargot once before in my life, and was a little hesitant this time, but it was wonderful: hearty yet not chewy (and, as Richard said, it's basically a distribution system for butter and garlic). The hit of the night was probably the orzo, the rice-like pasta with the bright summery mint. While I enjoyed all the wines, my favorite remains The Mansfield Winery's Umpqua Valley (OR) Riesling--clear, with amazing feel and, to me, clean without the heavy sugars so many rieslings have to me. We ate and drank and laughed. And there were no mishaps, either. C. kept his pants on (long story). G. and K. successfully passed through the metal detector on the way out so no vintage silverware went missing. And R. and G. invited us, on the spur of the moment, to another party the following evening.

As enjoyable as the food and wine were though, perhaps the highlight of the evening was simply the laughter among us all. To dine well and to do so with special friends...now THAT makes a meal truly a feast. The evening made me think about those special times and special moments in our lives. When our cups runneth over, what spills out isn't wasted, it isn't lost; those spilled nutrients, that spilled-over life, I like to think, fertilizes the world around us, leading to more great meals, fun times, and deeper connections with the special people in our lives.

Down on the Farm

DATELINE OHIO: Faithful readers of this blog have surely (I hope!) noticed my lack of postings this past week. I have traveled to Ohio for a family reunion/vacation and discovered, to my horror, the lack of not only high-speed Internet access, but the lack of ANY Internet. I am writing this entry in the hotel lobby of a Comfort Inn, where my sister and her husband are staying.

Ohio remains, to me, very beautiful and, at least in July, idyllic. A day or two ago I was actually sitting outside on a lawnchair watching chipmunks skitter by and enjoying the American flag flapping in the gentle breeze, when from a nearby church I heard a tune I couldn't quite place at first...and then it came to me: "Amazing Grace." Ah, the charms of small-town Ohio....

But Ohio also has its flaws. My biggest pet-peeve with Ohio is with the food. Ohio has more 18-hole golf courses than any other state. It also has, much to my disgust, per-capita more fast-food restaurants than any other state. They are EVERYWHERE. For every one homestyle-type restaurant with charm and character such as Pickle Bill's, there are at least 20 fast-food places. The list goes on and on. McDonalds, Arby's, Burger King. Pizza Hut, Panda Express, Subway. Togo's, Applebee's, Ruby Tuesdays. Etc., etc., etc. So I succumbed. But doing so, I went way old-school: Bob Evans Restaurants, founded in 1948 by Bob Evans himself.

Here's the story: Bob Evans was a hog farmer. In 1948 in Gallipolis, Ohio, he opened up a 12-stool diner. He didn't like any of the sausage he could buy, so he ended up making his own. Not only did he use the "nasty bits", as Tony Bourdain would say, he also used the hams and tenderloins. The sausage took on a life of its own. Truck drivers said it was the best they'd ever had. They began to buy big packs to take with them. Pretty soon, Evans expanded. Today, there are 579 Bob Evans Restaurants in 18 states. The local legend has it (which I think has some truth to it) that restaurants could never be located further than a day's drive from the sausage plant in southwest Ohio, to ensure the freshest sausage. Anyway, growing up as a kid, Bob Evans Farms, The Home of Homestyle, was an occasional brunch splurge.

The food: Decidedly old-school, with a specialty of biscuits and "a fresh cup of creamy sausage gravy." It tastes decadently artery-clogging good. The blandness of the fluffy biscuits goes perfectly with the bite of the sausage. I ate my fill with several cups of black coffee, two eggs over easy, and a stack of home fries slathered in grease. Yes, it was fast-food. But at least it had two things I seek out in restaurants/food/wines: character, and a good story behind it.

Oh, yeah: Bob Evans died less than a month ago, on June 21, 2007, at the age of 89.

Napa Valley Everyday: Part 1

About twice a week, I find myself driving a 9- or 10-mile strip on Highway 29 in the Napa Valley stretching from just south of the town of St. Helena north, to the town of Calistoga. Along this path are three of my favorite lunch stops, which I call "Napa Valley Everday": Buster's Barbecue & Bakery, Taylor's Refresher, and the topic of today's post, The Silverado Brewing Company.

SBC is located in an old stone building which used to be Freemark Abby Cellars. I love the interior: stone walls, dimmish-lighting, the beautiful polished-smooth bar. To the right of the bar area is the dining room, and to the left, behind a huge glass wall, are the tall stainless steel vats. It's a lot of fun to sit at the bar, have a great made-right-there beer, and watch the beermakers lug their hoses and what-not from vat to vat.

My favorite sandwich there: the pulled pork. It's a delicious salty-sweet treat. The pork, from the veritable Niman Ranch, is slow-roasted, and melts in your mouth. It comes with one of my favorite sides: the orange, not-as-greasy-as-regular-fries sweet potato fries. I order an Oatmeal Stout to accompany the sandwich: black and layered yet light enough to drink with lunch.

Their web site isn't much to look at, but check em out sometime: http://www.silveradobrewingcompany.com/.