Posts by krista

May 23

From Tortas to Chicken-Fried Steak

The first time I went to Chicago Mo Rocca sat directly in front of me on the plane.

On my recent visit to Oklahoma City I was routed through Chicago, and once again trailed Mo Rocca. While still at La Guardia I spied his location via a flirtatious Rick Bayless retweet.

Soon enough, I, too, had a torta (choriqueso) for the road. Tortas Frontera is a great idea at O'Hare. It's too bad my plane was already boarding when I arrived for my return flight–even though the restaurant was right next the gate, it takes a chunk of time (15 minutes for the original sandwich) for the food to get made because there's usually a line and everything's prepped on demand. Actually, I ran over (I'm one of those freaks who pays to check my bag, so I don't need to rush the gate to snag precious storage bin space) in search of anything readymade and was able to score a poblano chile and Chihuahua cheese mollete boxed up rapido. They call them open-faced sandwiches. I've always thought of them as Mexican French bread pizzas.

Even McDonald's in Mexico has a version.

I have the suspicion that no one's clamoring for a slew of posts on Oklahoma City dining unless you greatly enjoy variations on meat and potatoes: steak and baked potato, chicken-fried steak and mashed potatoes, and ribs and fries–there were even potatoes in the Okla-Mex fajitas. It's not one of those regions that may be third-tier but still has plenty of food lore, like say, Charlotte and environs, with North Carolinian barbecue culture as a backdrop. (Chowhound had almost nothing in the way of OKC advice and Serious Eats had no more than a mention or two. The craziest thing I read about online but didn't have a chance to check out was a weekend-only honey-dipped fried chicken truck in the "bad" part of town that a pair of local, Native American, dwarf, Christian rappers had written a song about.) But here are some photos untill those posts arrive, like them or not.

McMollete photo via Brand Eating where there is currently a must-see series on all of the Mc items at McDonald's around the world.

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May 20

Sonic

No, despite the frequent commercials taunting Sonic-free New Yorkers, the food isn't anything special. But when you're on the chain's home turf (founded in Shawnee, OK in 1953) you must pull-in to one of the many beckoning parking lots for at least a little something.

A Bacon Cheeseburger Toaster Sandwich (a Texas toast cheeseburger topped with squishy onion rings) and a Hey Batter Blast (that would be cookie dough and brownie bits in a Styrofoam, the to-go material of choice in the South and Midwest, cup of vanilla ice cream) were enjoyed in view of my hotel (or is that a motel?) the new-to-me brand, Hotwire-win (only $68 a night) Country Inn & Suites, owned by Carlson, the same as T.G.I. Friday's and the "upper midscale" chain, Park Plaza, I've booked for Bangkok this summer.

I'd already eaten in a car and been greeted by the slogan, "I love this Country" within an hour of touching down at Will Rogers Airport.

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May 20

Seasons 52

Seasons 52, Darden’s upscale, ostensibly healthy chain would be an ideal candidate for The Post-Millennium Chain Restaurants of Middlesex County, New Jersey treatment…but that will have to wait until 2013 when the state of New Jersey receives its first branch in Edison. Instead, I visited the closest location to NYC, at the King of Prussia mall just three miles from the Valley Forge Radisson with a 15^th floor dedicated to fantasy suites, of which one, The Star Gazer, was a setting in Blue Valentine.

If you stripped away the burgundy arch and oversized lanterns near the entrance, and swapped some wood for metal, Seasons 52's facade isn't radically different in style from Elements, the foodie destination restaurant in Princeton. (Also, I think that I could be one-half of that couple, if I were ten years older and took a very slightly different path in life–one that involved marrying a man who wears light denim.)

Not a chain restaurant.

A Saturday at 7pm demanded a one-and-half-hour wait, though the first-come seat-yourself lounge had a spacious booth wide open up for grabs. And it took a few seconds to register that, not only was that not the Sade version of “Smooth Operator,” filling the packed room, but that it was being belted out just a few feet away by a young-yet-mature blonde woman sitting at a piano inside of the ovoid bar.

Ok, live music, a roaring fire, chunky mid-century stone, and metal cocktail shakers placed in front of a good number of patrons? Classy.

And on-trend with a seasonal menu with specials that change weekly (hence the name, duh) and no dish with more than 475 calories. Playing up the mainstreaming interest in food-sourcing with a nod to portion control is not a common combination in the chain food world. And clearly, it's striking a chord with suburbanites based on the crowds.

The cocktails (yes, wine is their focus, not spirits) still read very middle-American, i.e. a list of typically fruity and sweet "martinis." Of course, that shouldn't stop anyone from just ordering a simple stiff drink if that's what they want. I did.

Flatbreads are like crackery pizzas; taking out the chew and the squish is one way to slash calories. This was a special with goat cheese, artichoke hearts, and caramelized onions, an ok enough snack. I would've liked some Kalamata olives on this, but with the cheese that would certainly break the 475-calorie-limit. Frankly, I wasn't hungry after an afternoon of cheesesteak and Italian sandiwch sampling–I just wanted a drink and something light.

The Columbia River steelhead trout atop arugula, chopped vegetables, shrimp, and couscous isn't the type of thing I normally order at restaurants, well, because it read as very healthy, but completely pleasant. The fish was still moist (yes, I know everyone hates that word), the cilantro-spiked yogurt sauce was a fine addition, and the grilled lemon added a little visual interest as well as more acid.

I was told by our server that this dish "doesn't taste like trout," despite showing no skepticism of that poor fish. “It tastes more like salmon,” I was further reassured. Clearly, people in King of Prussia hate trout, though I probably wouldn't bring up my trout defense with a group of diners unless prompted. It almost made me want to complain about the trout being too fishy after ordering it, just to get a reaction.

Of course you could just order salmon.

The food had a familiar quality to me, and James pegged it: "It's like Cooking Light recipes." Sure enough, the petite lean proteins bulked up with vegetables, yogurt mimicking cream sauces, juices adding flavor instead of fats, did resemble our not terribly exciting (though not bad tasting) weeknight dinners.

And there's the rub. I do tend to make lighter food during the week to balance out more decadent meals out, maybe one weeknight and over the weekend (I wish I was one of those bloggers who eats out every night of the week, but my health can't afford it even if my finances could) and when I do go out to restaurants I don't necessarily want to continue my dietary austerity. But I do love the novelty in this franchised form and it makes sense for these higher-income pockets of the suburbs. It wouldn't as well in a bigger city where eating healthy is less of a struggle, heirloom vegetables and heritage meat are in abundance, and plates rarely come piled with enough food for multiple meals. It's not as if Seasons 52 could compete with ABC Kitchen.

There's also a Maggiano's (on my to-try list–it's a fancier Olive Garden, right?) that looks like a mansion in the parking lot. Also, why is Maggiano’s always near a Crate & Barrel?

Seasons 52 * King of Prussia Mall, 160 N Gulph Rd., King of Prussia, PA

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May 15

One of These Restaurants Is Not Like the Other

I wonder if people call 30 days ahead for Fadó reservations?

Chart via Compete

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May 10

Mugaritz vs. Marshalls: A Salt Showdown

Food 52 (which I always want to call Seasons 52) recently wrote about “10 Salts to Know.” It reminded me of the eight barely known to me salts I wrestled up from various shelves and cupboards a while ago to assess. The massive plastic shaker of Trader Joe’s sea salt is the only one I paid money for. Frankly, I don’t recall how most of these specimens found their way into my apartment at all.

Palates, palates, always something to be praised on Top Chef and even Hell’s Kitchen. I’m not convinced I have much of one. I know which flavors I enjoy and dislike (sweet, powerfully fiery, shrimpy nam priks vs. cloying, dirty, perfumey melons) but subtleties can be lost on me.

So, the best head-to-head taste test would have to pit the most haute with the lowest-brow of contenders. That would be Añananko Gatza from the Añana Salt Valley in the Basque county, a parting gift from Mugaritz, the third best restaurant in the world, and the $3.99 glass jar of Pepper Creek Farms Mayan sea salt from Marshalls, a Christmas gift from James’s mother (to him–she doesn’t buy me strip mall presents. I wonder if she’s aware of Home Goods, the offshoot devoted to all the balsamic vinegars, bath salts, and Keith Haring-themed cleaning supplies falling off the shelves at Marshalls?).

Originally, I thought I’d give the two salts a go on vegetables. I put together a haphazard salad using produce on its last legs: wrinkled grape tomatoes, browning mint, squishy cucumbers and half a jalapeno. Bad idea. (Also a bad idea: doing a salt taste test the night before going to see a specialist about my blood pressure that doesn’t respond to medication.) The chile dominated everything and rendered the salt practically unnoticeable. I added in a can of chickpeas try and temper the heat and gave up on distinguishing the sources of saline.

Meat seemed like a better vehicle, so on to the Wegmans flank steak. After all, the label on the Pepper Creek Farms’ bottle said it was good on the “finest beef tenderloin” (and margarita glass rims).

Though not that clear from my so-so photo, the textures are what set the two apart most obviously. The fine, snowball powdery Marshall’s salt (on the right) disappeared immediately. After the first few bites, which produced an initial salt blast, I was left with meat juices and salty water. The jagged Mugaritz salt crystals remained distinct, and added not just crunch but a savory quality that made the meat meatier.

It wasn’t exactly a contest to compare extremes. What I could barely tell apart was the Mugaritz salt and the La Paludier Fleur de Sel de Guerande (with a $8.75 price tag) that that I normally use to finish dishes that could use a boost. The two were more or less on par with the fleur de sel coming across slightly less salty.

I don’t know what the Añananko Gatza salt costs; obviously it wasn’t free when you account for airfare to San Sebastian and the cost of a meal at Mugaritz. I would say you could save a few hundred euros and no one would know the difference. I’ll keep the Basque salt as a souvenir until I know I can replace it easily, and stick with the widely available French sea salt I was already using. The Marshall’s salt? A perfect candidate for re-gifting.

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May 10

Anything and Everything

Kraft made Cooking Cremes a reality, and if the company can get moms to put cream cheese in tacos and spaghetti why not invent more use cases for salad dressing? The new campaign is called "Anything Dressing," and their Facebook page has videos demonstrating a Balsamic Beef Dipped sandwich and Cheese Stuffed Chicken drizzled with roasted red pepper vinaigrette, among others.

In college, I discovered the genius of pepperoni pizza with blue cheese dressing, so I'm not against the practice in theory.

It's also no shock that Ranch is the most popular salad dressing. Hidden Valley, too, is on the versatility bandwagon. Their initiative is called "Hidden Valley for Everything" and they are making a thicker Ranch for dipping and creating a Ranch Salsa for the same purpose. One would imagine that Ranch hummus is just on the horizon. (And indeed, folks who go by monikers like Vegan Dad, Handicapped Chef, and Food Bitch, have all gone there.)

We just got a similar story about French's mustard that produced this gem: “When you’re trying to reframe the way you think about mustard, you have to play with all the semiotics.” That translates to Edamame-Avocado Dip and Shredded Pork Tacos with Spicy Mustard Salsa.

What other condiment is ripe for repurposing? I'm still traumatized by the kid in middle school who brought mayonnaise cookies. Then again, that's no Hellman's Molten Chocolate Lava Cake.

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May 9

When in Doubt, Add Mango

Another day, another localized snack food story. May was kicked off with the Huffington Post vs. Businessweek with mango-flavored Oreos playing a role in each. And before I could even get around to posting this, The Wall Street Journal busted out a piece about Dunkin’ Donuts’ first Indian outpost. Yes, there will be mangoes–as well as a lychee Coolata and a Jerk Cottage Cheese Ciabatta sandwich.

And if Pinkberry wasn’t enough, now India and China will be the recipients of another chilly American dessert: water ices, courtesy of Rita’s. No word on the presence of mangoes.

A Jamba Juice franchisee in the Bahamas didn’t localize (mango is already on the menu, after all) but bucked tradition by adding food, which proved a huge success for the chain. He still went out of business, however, and is now going like gangbusters with a presumably mango-free Johnny Rockets in the Atlantis resort.

Chinese orange-mango Oreo pic via Kraft Foods

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May 5

Eaten, Barely Blogged: From House to Haus

Peaches HotHouse I suspected the hot hothouse chicken would be no lie, but the boyfriend thought they were bullshitting. And he paid the price. The cayenne-induced blast is possibly the hottest thing we've experienced after Sripraphai's Southern Curry. Taking them seriously (because I read up on things ahead of time) I picked the regular hothouse chicken, which weirdly wasn't hot enough, a little sweet and a lot peppery. A middle-ground fried chicken is desperately needed. Also, the restaurant is oddly Shazaam-resistant. It would not work for me or the young man I noticed holding up his phone to no avail. I was able to recognize Bill Withers' "Ain't No Sunshine" on my own.

Goat Town I thought I'd been to Butcher Bay during Lent last year, but after checking my blog (my only tie to reality, it seems) that visit was actually in April 2009. What the fuck? How did I lose two years? Now I've been freaked out all week and afraid I'll die in my sleep one night not realizing I'm completely elderly and decrepit. Butcher Bay is now Goat Town and on so-called Mexican Mondays you can order Tex-Mex things like the oozy Velveeta-ish enchiladas and puffy lengua tacos we had at non-Texan prices.

Schnitzel Haus The Bay Ridge German restaurant was so uncharacteristically bustling on a Friday that the only table was an awkward two-seater nearest to the Donald Trump photograph in front of the guy doing Neil Diamond covers and in line with the door blowing chilly gusts (it was unusually cold Friday night) every time it opened. And the table we were given upstairs (who knew there was an upstairs?) after asking if we could move was even more awkward–dark and empty minus a staticky radio station filling the dead air and large group speaking a Slavic language–proving that whenever I try fighting my tendency to never speak up, it doesn't pay off. I drank a Spaten Optimator and part of a schnitzel smothered in mushroom gravy and was out of there. Previously on Schnitzel Haus.

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May 1

In the Privacy of Your Own Home

P.F. Chang's, the restaurant, was acquired today by Centerbridge Partners LP. The Chinese bistro isn't doing so well, yet P.F. Chang's Home Menu, the brand's frozen food offering, was the best-selling new food and beverage product launch of 2011, according to SymphonyIRI, beating out Thomas' Bagel Things by nearly $30 million. (I'll admit I picked up a bag of orange chicken at Target out of curiosity, but really anyone in NYC would just go to their local joint, likely in a three-block-radius, to satisfy their Chinese-American junk food needs.)

Perhaps next year we'll see IHOP's new at HOME syrups on the list.

Or Olive Garden's salad dressings at Sam's Club.

Not so long ago I found these Jelly Belly Dessert Toppers at Wegmans and they made me want to hurl. The neon red cherry one in particular reminded me of something you might find in the over-18 section at Spencer's that would give you an instant UTI.

Oh, Zagat has a timely post today about taste-testing seven frozen restaurant meals. Spoiler: T.G.I. Friday's Cheddar and Bacon Skins are the real deal.

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Apr 28

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Pok Pok NY

As I approach my fourteenth year in NYC, I'm weaning myself from a no-longer-relevant ownership of everything Portland. Like somehow I would have an affinity for Atera or Pok Pok because Mathew Lightner cooked at Castagna or Andy Ricker made a name for himself in Portland. Never mind that I was long gone before any of this dining excitement was occurring, and that I didn't grow up in Portlandia.

(Pre-twee Portland was working class when it wasn't unemployed, and unambitious and underdoggy with a chip on its shoulder–NYC certainly didn't make me this churlish–with a gun-loving, methy, murdery, white pride undercurrent. It's no coincidence that the aforementioned chefs are not native Oregonians.)

So, Pok Pok is purely new Portland, which means it's really good. And Brooklyn Pok Pok isn't a letdown either. I'm glad to finally have something in the neighborhood to shut me up over the crappy state of local Thai food. Even the wait, which I'm averse to on principle, wasn't horrible. Initially, I balked at an hour-and-a-half quote at 9:30pm on a weeknight, but in reality it was 30 minutes (my city maximum–yes, I've waited double that at chains in the suburbs) which passed quickly with a tamarind sour in one hand and a menu to peruse in the other. I've waited longer in Portland standing on the sidewalk getting drizzled on my non-polar-fleeced self.

First off: Pok Pok is not a Sripraphai competitor, which I've heard/read, I don't even remember where. Pok Pok is not for curries and it's not all Thai things to all people; the food is mostly northern or Issan while Sripraphai is primarily Bangkok-style. And it's fairly obvious that Pok Pok has different aspirations. You will not find Mangalitsa pork, La Belle Rouge chicken, Niman Ranch ribs, drinking vinegars, nor Stumptown iced coffees (is there artisanal condensed and evaporated milk?) at Sripraphai where I ordered a cocktail, a Thai mojito, for the first time on my last visit. I do miss the fridges full of desserts and nam prik, though. Well, and a lot of other things. You need Chao Thai, Ayada, and yes, Srirpraphai as much as you need Pok Pok in your world.

Also: Who cares if Andy Ricker isn't Thai? Or Harold Dirterle…or that I'm more Mexican than Alex Stupak (as if I were born knowing how to nixtamalize corn) and his food at Empellon Cocina hardly suffers. Does anyone question the ethnicity of chefs cooking French or Italian cuisine in the US, which is to say a large percentage of chefs in this country?

Oh, one other thing while I'm being a surly Portland transplant: Columbia Street is not Red Hook. Call it something invented like Columbia Street Waterfront District or Cobble Hill West, but you can no longer say an area is gritty when people are spending millions of dollars to live there. I just looked a house on the exact same block as Pok Pok for $1.6 million and a condo down the street for even more. Er, not gritty (though also not prime enough to command those inflated prices). A diner actually asked where he was and was told Red Hook. I should probably be more concerned with people who manage to get to a restaurant without knowing where they are than with neighborhood demarcations.

Finally…the food: Mangalitsa pork neck. When I eat at restaurants years apart I often end up picking the same things I ate the previous visit without realizing it. I only recognized this dish when the side of iced mustard greens showed up. It threw me for a loop in Portland (and on this crisp spring evening) because it's such a tropical weather touch. Translating an authentic presentation when there's no fear of wilting produce was odd and charming both times (and yes, I realize the cooling effect is also meant as a relief from the chile heat) though I'm sure it will be appropriately stifling and toasty come summer with nothing more than a ceiling fan for ventilation in the makeshift tent-like back room. But yes, the grilled slices of pork (it was boar in Portland–I would have to try them side by side to taste the difference) were rich enough to stand up to the garlicky, tart dressing (citrus played a major role in all the dishes we ordered).

Papaya salad is where you should feel the heat, and the addition of salted black crab didn't just add serious funk but raised the spice level to a point that burned but didn't obliterate the flavor (the extra-spicy fried chicken at Peaches Hothouse last weekend, for instance, crossed the line into needless pain). I happen to enjoy the hot garbage/festering corpse smell of fermented sea creatures in condiments, which never taste as ominous as they smell, but even smoothed out by lime juice and sugar this salad still retained a distinctive sludge color.

I hate to say it, but sometimes I find larbs boring or overly healthy (probably because I make them with Costco chicken breasts) but with grilled catfish it was perfect because of the fluffy, crispy texture you might typically associate with yam pla duk fu served with shredded green mango instead of larbified with herbs and shallots. The flavors were really bright with lemongrass and mint; galangal sweetness peeked through. This might have been my favorite of the three.

And the most simple thing that garnered attention was the pandan-steeped water at each table. I'll never understand the audience for Mio water enhancers, i.e. people who don't like the taste of water, but if you're going to infuse water, vanilla-jasmine ricey-smelling pandan is the way to go.

Pok Pok NY *127 Columbia St., Brooklyn, NY

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Posts by krista

From Tortas to Chicken-Fried Steak

Sonic

Seasons 52

One of These Restaurants Is Not Like the Other

Mugaritz vs. Marshalls: A Salt Showdown

Anything and Everything

When in Doubt, Add Mango

Eaten, Barely Blogged: From House to Haus

In the Privacy of Your Own Home

Pok Pok NY

Featured

Occasional Instagramming

Yes, it’s come to this

My Other Blogs

What?

The Past Will Haunt You

Pigeonholing 101