Mustard's Last Stand

We recently spent a week in beautiful and sporty Boulder, Colorado, where we attended a fabulous wedding, GoatSpawn went on her first hike (logging many more miles in her Baby Bjorn), Foodgoat hiked up a mountain, and we found a great place to get hot dogs - the nicely named Mustard's Last Stand.

My corn dog was great, the fries were really excellent, and the chili on Foodgoat's chili dog didn't taste like it came straight out of can.

A Dog Betrayed

I thought we were a happy pack. I did. Sure, we had our occasional disagreements - did I have to come in right now? you don't want that last piece of bagel do you? - but all in all, I was content and I thought they were content as well. Sure they left all day long, but they always came back eventually.

And then one night they came later than usual. They did this sometimes. Maybe they worked late. I didn't think anything of it. But then ... I got a whiff of something. Something different. Something like ... ham. Really good ham.

I looked more closely. They were dressed particularly well. They seemed suspiciously pleased with themselves. And yes, on closer smelling, it was definitely the scent of ham. Expensive ham.

I tried to ask them where they'd been. As usual, they wouldn't tell me. I pretended that nothing was amiss, but I suspected something. Maybe it was nothing. I should trust them. I wanted to trust them ... but I had to know for sure. So I'm not proud of it, but I looked at their cell phone records. And that's where I found the pictures. Incriminating pictures that left no doubt about what they had done.

They had spent the evening with some Lolita.







I should have left it alone, but I had to know more - all the sordid details. So I listened in on their little private conversations they have between the two of them.

Ladygoat's butternut squash ravioli was delicious, but paled in comparison to Foodgoat's sea scallops, which were tender and luscious and flavorful. They went wonderfully with a side of rich creamy polenta. Even the bread sticks - much like big soft pretzels - were very good.

But the highlight of the evening was starting with the "Big Board for Two", a sampler of cured meats that included salami (made in house), sopressata, and three different kinds of prosciutto, along with pickled fennel and a sweet apple salsa-like thing. Served on a wooden cutting board, it was like a sushi plate, but of meat - each item was bite-sized, flavor-packed, and perfectly complementary in flavor.

The prosciutto was made by La Quercia Artisan Cured Meats in Iowa, and while the Berkshire prosciutto and the spicy prosciutto picante were absolutely tasty, it was the smoked prosciutto, the Speck Americano, that blew them away. Smoked with applewood, this prosciutto was not just good - it was memorably good. It had a yumminess that was on a whole other scale of measurement. Slightly sweet, slightly smoky, complex and just really tasty.

You should have heard them go on and on, the shameless hussies. They know perfectly well how much I adore ham, how much I love prosciutto. And they go off and eat prosciutto - the very best prosciutto - without me.

It was of little consolation to find that they had never been there before, that it was their first time. They had planned it, you see, they had planned it for a long time. And they were planning on going again. Without me. Just because the food was delicious, the prices reasonable, and service impeccable.

Slyman's

While in Cleveland, our President made his best, most commendable and irreproachable decision of his two terms of office today.

He decided to have a corned beef sandwich at Slyman's.

We have been so remiss in not posting about one of the most glorious food places in Cleveland that we rarely get to go to. It's only open on weekdays until lunch, and since the lines are notoriously long, Cleveland's best deli mocks us with their famous corned beef sandwiches.

So last week when Foodgoat and I got off work early for the 4th of July, there was just one place we wanted to go.















The lines were only a little long (just out the door) but it's a fair price to pay because their corned beef sandwiches! are! so! good!
The perfect combination of just the right amount of fattiness (which is to say, not too much) to indescribably yummy beef ...

Order one "all the way" and you also get swiss cheese, mustard, and horseradish (plus bonus points from the staff for knowing the lingo).

After experiencing the goodness again, Foodgoat has decided that trekking out across the city to Slyman's for lunch is well, well worth it.

Despite his local Italian roots, Foodgoat hates Cleveland's Little Italy district. Why? Because it's generally mediocre.

San Francisco's Little Italy district, North Beach, is generally tasty (well, except for that Stinking Rose place, which is gimmicky and prone to gastrointestinal consequences).

It was a North Beach place, Trattoria Pinocchio, that turned out to be the restaurant discovery of the trip. Foodgoat and his brothers stumbled upon after he took them on a vigorous walk up to Coit's Tower. They stopped for drinks and appetizers and ended up staying for dinner, and liked it so much that the word spread and soon, several other visitors ate there and declared it good.

I had a seat in the back, with a view of the stoves, so every once in a while I would see a burst of flames in the background. I don't know what they were making, but it was exciting, and the food was delizioso.

The calamari was especially yummy, being crisp and tender and perfectly cooked, and the pasta dishes also were winners. Even Foodgoat thought so, and where Italian food is concerned, he's not easy to please.

A Meeting of Minds

What you see now is goodness being made.

It's the new crepe stand, Crepes De Luxe, in the West Side Market, right next to and owned by the coffee stand, and a new source of happiness for us.

When we wandered up for the first time, he took a look at us and said, "One of you is some kind of goat." Who are we to deny it?

Nor could we pass up, as he pointed out, the crepe known as the Goat - goat cheese, basil, and tomatoes in what I think is a buckwheat crepe.

Or try the Joy - with dark Belgian chocolate and coconut.

I can't decide if I'm a savory crepe or a sweet crepe person. Foodgoat seems to lean towards the sweet, with the chocolate and berries and all that, but I think I may be the savory type. All that cheese. And often, ham.

(Point of interest: the T-shaped tool used to smooth out the crepe into thing smoothness is called a rozell - which is, phonetically speaking, Ladygoat's name.)

His crepes are indeed tasty - light, amazingly thin, soft and tasty. He also puts them in handy paper cones, an idea he picked up in Montreal. The crepes are vying with bratwursts as the West Side Market brunch of choice.

Just Souper

There is an small, empty restaurant front around the corner from work, and each time that I pass it, I wish wish wish that the Souper Market would open an east side location there. University Circle needs it - nay, I need it. I could walk over every day, even on snowy days like this, and get a bowl of their hot, delicious soup, maybe even their lobster bisque, along with the chunk of sourdough, for lunch. And I would be happy. So happy.

Check out their awesome help wanted ad on craigslist:

Don't lie about your experience beacause I'll know. Resumes are a huge plus. If you dont have something to show me, don't bother to reply. We need people with good knife skills in the kitchen who can rock out some mirepoix in no time. We need personable people with good attitudes, that can wheel out some soup to the masses when the sh*t hits the fan and still keep a smile on their face for the most fickle of customers.

Unfortunately, what I do with a knife can only be described as anti-skills, and I don't even know what a mirepoix is, otherwise I would love to work there.

Best and Worst of 2006: Hungry Howie's Pizza

It was a rise and fall for the ages.

Pizza joints are a dime a dozen, and we don't usually go around trying each and every one that pops up. We have Guiseppe's square Sicilian pizza with bacon, onions, green peppers and when we're feeling especially naughty, Papa John's Hawaiian pizza with garlic butter sauce, and those usually suffice. However, during the hectic, pre-holiday, scramble, there was one especially night where we couldn't even manage those 10-15 minute drives. So we picked up a pizza at the brand new, bright yellow and brightly lit Hungry Howie's pizza place around the corner.

It was delicious - hot, tasty, a flavored crust. And the garlic Howie Bread? Yummers, absolutely yummers. We exulted - tasty pizza a stone's throw away.

So when Foodgoat's had extended family over one holiday night, we served up three Hungry Howie's pizzas, and it was quite the hit. All was well and good.

Little did we know that Hungry Howie's triggered something - something dark and frightening - in Foodgoat's brother. The mild-mannered Bostonian accountant was transformed into Crazy Obsessed Pizza Fiend.

We had Hungry Howie's pizza five times in a week and a half, racking up a pile of empty pizza boxes in the kitchen that made Foodgoat hang his head in shame whenever his mother came over. The very idea of pizza makes me slightly nauseous. We will not be visiting Hungry Howie's again - at least, not until President's Day.

I left my heart in the Hooter's of San Francisco

Before I settled on a reception site, I considered practically every restaurant in San Francisco. The restaurant business being what it is, a lot of these places weren't there when I last lived in the area. One sounded especially promising -- Mas Sake, a Japanese sushi place, that seemed reasonably priced, stylish, and in the Marina.

And then I looked online for user reviews, and found comments like this:

Hey, don't you think there are way too many white people in here for this to be a good Japanese restaura -- whoa, boobs.

Cross that one off my list of potential reception sites.

Although Foodgoat may have just circled it on his list of potential bachelor party sites.

Don't Eat Without Me, Argentina

I was in Novato, California, in October, I went to this great restaurant, I took yummy pictures, I wrote about. Somehow I forgot to actually post about it. Only when I had a hankering to see the lobster corn dogs once more did I realize I never shared the joy. So here it is.

The place was Boca Steak Restaurant, which features steak and Argentinian cuisine. I know nothing about Argentinian cuisine. But apparently they like steak.

It was October and it's Marin and it's kind of cold, but with high powered outdoor heaters, the patio was quite comfy.


And here are the lobster corn dogs. VERY yummy. Would anyone have thought otherwise? Think about it - lobster + corn dogs. Can't lose. And the empanadas are delish too.


Okay, so I didn't quite capture the steak. But it was good, and grass fed even. I'm not big on steak, though.


The fish and the shrimp, now, THEY were good.

I've been in a funk since my airline experience. All that stale plane air must have stifled my brain.

Fortunately, yesterday I encountered three things that cheered me up.

The first was the Britney Spears noodle bra on eBay.


The second was the odd looking plant in my backyard that has turned out to be a broccoli. Woo hoo!

And the third was watching MacHomer at the Hanna Theater, a one-man vocal spectacular features impressions of over 50 voices from TV`s The Simpsons in a performance of Shakespeare`s Macbeth. The performer, Rick Miller, was a weird, funny nut - his Marge (as Lady MacHomer) was spot on, and the puppets were great. I felt bad that there were only about 20 people there, so if you're in the Cleveland area, check out the show (it's playing until Sunday) - any Shakespeare fan especially would enjoy the irreverent rendition.

We thought about having doughnuts and beer in honor of Homer prior to the performance, but instead settled on a quick meal, surrounded by college kids, at the Rascal House.

The pizza was unremarkable but the fries were surprisingly good - extra crispy, not too salty, hot, and most importantly, contained in a snazzy french fry cup.

Alas, I hadn't been fully cheered up for half an hour before we found that the computer REFUSES TO TURN ON. What!? No connection to the Internet, to the outside world? Wait ... NO WARCRAFT??!!

Noooooooooooooo!

Blog Party #2: Tiki

After my sorority initiation, we celebrated at the Tonga Room and Hurricane Bar in San Francisco's Fairmount Hotel. Amid the Bay Area fog and Union Square sophistication, it was a kitschy, campy fake Polynesian paradise, featuring a tiki-boat-cum-stage that floats across the pool with a full band, and a "monsoon" and thunderstorm that sprays the dance floor every half hour. I don't remember a thing about the food, but I do remember a partaking in a few gigantic tropical drinks for four people that might have been called a Scorpion Bowl. (Perhaps that explains why I do remember spending part of the evening sliding down the Fairmount staircase bannisters).

But the Tonga Room is hardly the best known of Bay Area's tiki attractions. That honor goes to Oakland's Trader Vic's, one of the original tiki-themed restaurants and soon after opening in 1936, one of the most popular watering holes of its time. Trader Vic's gave us the original Mai Tai. I've never been there, but the December 2004 Saveur has a delightful article on it, and more importantly, some intriguing recipes from the restaurant.

The one I wanted to try was Bongo Bongo soup. With a name like that, who could resist?

It is made of spinach, fresh oysters, and a bit of clam juice, in a lot of half and half, and flavored with hot sauce, Worcestshire sauce, and A-1 sauce ... a pureed spinach and oyster bisque, I suppose. It was creamy and delicious, and went well with our crab cakes to a light, sea-worthy meal. Easy to make, tasty to eat, and above all, fun to say. Bongo bongo!

Tryout Tuesday, on Thursday, Last Week: Roscoe's

Ever since Phil the Fire sputtered out in Cleveland, Foodgoat and I have been chicken and waffle deprived, left only to contemplate one of us picking up a KFC bucket while the other tries to convince IHOP to make waffles to go in order to build some sad semblance of real thing.

So the first stop while I was in LA was lunch at Roscoe's, the venerable chicken & waffle house. The dish originated in a Harlem restaurant, and an employee there took it with him when he moved out west and started Roscoe's. It's Roscoe's that made fried chicken & waffles famous. Now there are Roscoe's all over LA (and outside Los Angeles, even) but we were at the original, Pico Blvd location.

Two pieces of chicken, two waffles, two pats of butter, two tiny of cups of syrup ... surprisingly, it all fits into one Ladygoat.

My brother got the same thing I did, except with gravy and onions. My sister got - what else? - the Carol special with buckwheat waffles while my Dad ordered his own namesake, the Oscar. Mom passed on the Big Mamma special though.

Mmmmmm!

Tryout Tuesday: Dominick's Cafe

Hellllo, folks, to the FOODGOAT Cleveland Burgerweight Championships! (*raucous cheers erupt from the crowd!*)

In this corner, we have our current breakout champ, winning the belt just one month ago, blowing away the no-name competition with their juicy burgers and master of a burger-slinger, the one, the only, Stevenson's Bar & Grille!

And in this corner, his challenger, an upstart burger contender that's been building a quite a rep among those who know, the Wickliffe greasy spoon Dominick's Cafe!

Round one! (*ding!)

Dominick's is coming up, and he's looking good by looking bad: the dingy nieghborhood hole in the wall, with just about every seat at the bar taken up. Uh oh, that hook might have gone too far: the clientele are questionable looking kids drinking beers in t-shirts with the sleeves ripped off.

But don't leave yet, folks, the round's just beginning. And look, it's around 6-ish and it looks like Dominick's is changing his tactic: now it's old people coming in! Old people sitting in the tables! To eat! The contender is back!

And now Dominick's makes his big move: Windy burgers with bacon and cheese and onions! Followed by a quick fries and onion rings on the side! And served up in a red plastic basket. The crowd bites! And again! I can't tell what's going on! A buttery bun hits Stevenson's square on the jaw! He's stunned! He looks like he might fall, but ... but no! He's rallying! The meat and bacon are holding! But the onion rings are frozen and Dominick's looks vulnerable now!

And just like that that, it's all over. Dominick's Cafe came close but in the end the reigning Stevenson's squeaks by to maintain his title of Best Cleveland Burger. (*cheering!)

Tryout Tuesday: Stevenson's

At long last, the Quest has ended, and that which has long been sought has truly been found.

Yes, we have finally discovered the Best Burger in Cleveland.

The significance cannot be overstated. You would think that something to quench the burgerlust would be a dime a dozen in such an American city, but no. We've come across burgers aplenty, but never found the burger that truly satisfies that deep-seated yearning that occasionally seizes upon Foodgoat. For the burger must not merely be tasty, it must also encapsulate the full essence of burger-ness, which is more than a food. The Burger, for example, cannot cost $10. Any whiff of yuppieness and the burger essence is lost. The menu should be small and centered around burgers. The clientele should be neighborly. And of course, the burger should be delicious.

The archetype of the Burger is Nation's, but Nation's is many miles away, and we had nearly given up hope of finding anything like it here.

And then one of Foodgoat's co-workers (to whom we shall be forever grateful) pointed us to Stevenson's.


Stevenson's Bar and Grille is a tiny, scruffy place (on Lakeshore in Euclid), with a long dark bar along the kitchen, so you can see your burger being made.

The Burger Maker is meticulous, taking extraordinary care in making the burgers, and it shows. The bacon was slow-cooked, the crisp fries were freshly-made, and the bun was toasted. He was also a character, which adds another check mark in the Good Burger Joint evaluation.

Foodgoat was, shall we say, happy about the result. He's got the Big Guy, which has a tartar sauce.

Doesn't it look good?

And indeed, the payoff was dreamy.

Of course, we can't confirm that it's really that good unless we try it again. So in the interest of public service, we'll have to go back. Again and again.

Tryout Tuesday: Hot Sauce Williams

Hot Sauce Williams, the Cleveland barbeque chain, is inaccurately named. It should be called Sweet Sauce Williams.

This is not a bad thing. Maybe barbeque sauce is supposed to be on the sweet side? It was tasty, nonetheless. It doesn't hold up to Foodgoat's recent Tampa discovery, First Choice Southern Bar-B-Que, when people carried out barbeque in 15-lb orders, but that's the South. Here in Cleveland, I am pleased to find any barbeque at all.

Foodgoat, but of course, got a pulled pork sandwich, slathered not only with sauce but also with coleslaw.

Which he had to eat with a fork. Is it still a sandwich if you need utinsils?

I went with ribs. Big, messy, chewy, ribs. But it was the fries - fat, crispy on the outside, fluffy on the inside, potato fries - that hit it off with the barbeque sauce. It reminded me of how as a kid I used to get the chicken McNuggets barbeque sauce for my fries. Such a natural pair. Unlike the Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes thing.

Tryout Tuesday: El Rodeo

When we walked into El Rodeo, looking for a little Mexican food love, kids were running around everywhere. And there were ... so ... many ... colors. Red hand-painted chairs, blue chairs, green chairs. And a very bright yellow sun smiled up at up from our table.

After we recovered from the slight vertigo of unused-to vibrancy, we had what was actually some pretty good Mexican food (it's always a gamble getting ethnic food in the 'burbs). I had the shredded beef quesadillas; Foodgoat had enchiladas. They noted in the menu something like "proper food takes time" - a hint, I suppose, to people who are used to getting their Mexican fix from Taco Bell (which is okay in California but downright atrocious in Cleveland).

The best part of the meal (aside from a character of a waiter) was dessert: a churro. A hot fried dough stick covered with sugar and cinnamon that I usually only find at Disneyland. Yum. Did you catch that? YUM.

Tryout Tuesday: Grovewood Tavern

First, it took about half an hour to get to the Grovewood Tavern & Wine Bar. Not because it's terribly far, but because first, Foodgoat didn't know where he wanted to eat so we drove around in all the wrong directions, and second, he had an only vague idea of where the Grovewood Tavern was, since the one time he'd been the bar he'd arrived already hammered. We managed to find it, but how would the hazy recollection of Guiness on tap and phenomenal potstickers hold up in the sober light of day?

Upon entering, Foodgoat suddenly remembered: here, he was introduced to his favorite beer, Young's Double Chocolate Stout. Looks like Ladygoat's driving home tonight!

The potstickers, filled with portobello mushrooms and served with a balsamic reduction, were, true to Foodgoat's memory, truly delicious. Succulent and earthy. And artfully presented, which you'll just have to take my word on, because I forgot my camera.

The menu was full of fascinating choices, but Foodgoat ultimately settled on a burger. That may seem an unremarkable choice, considering he could have gone with steak and fried oysters, but when your stomach wants a burger, who are you to argue? And it was a good burger, too.

I, on the other hand, got the chicken pot pie. I should have gotten the duck. I'm sure the duck would have been delicious. I always enjoy the duck when I order it. Now, I love chicken pot pie. I always order chicken pot pie when it's on the menu. But you know what? I'm always disappointed. It's never nearly as good as when I make it at home, which I'd do more often if it didn't involve a bazillion steps. This time, it was too salty and the potatoes were undercooked. Chicken pot pie must now be added to French onion soup as just one of those dishes that never tastes good in any restaurant. Sigh.

A pity, because dinner at Grovewood Tavern was otherwise a splendid experience.

Tryout Tuesday: Town Fryer

After several days of having soup for dinner, the goats were yappin' for something, well, unhealthy. So where else was there to go but to the Town Fryer, a new restaurant of Southern food known mostly for frying just about everything.

The place is small and cozy, the owner has a real Souther draaawl, and there's an Elvis lamp. We felt right at home at once. We began with tall glasses of tart lemonade and a basket of onion rings. Onion rings that were just too, too greasy, sadly enough. Which is not to say that I didn't like them, because I like all onion rings. Foodgoat, however, was nauseated by the sight of me scraping off the crunchy bits on the bottom of the basket.

Then came my fried chicken, which was delish: tender, skinless, boneless white meat nuggets surrounded by much crunchiness, not too greasy at all, and went well with my sweet potato fries. Foodgoat went for a fried chicken po' boy, along with maple bacon mashed potatoes on the side. He didn't go with the deep-fried mac & cheese but I suppose we must save some menu items for next time.

We never get dessert but how could I turn down deep-fried Oreos? (The deep-fried Twinkies, too, will have to wait.) The Oreos, sprinkled with powdered sugar and fresh from a vat of boiling oil, were suprisingly tasty: the chocolate cookie had turned into a soft cake-like texture, the creamy filling had dissipated, and the sweetness went well with the fried crust.

So it was all pretty good, but Foodgoat was left hurting. Perhaps an all-fried meal is not something one should spring on one's stomach without warning.

Tryout Tuesday: Brennan's Colony

Brennan's Colony
2299 Lee Road, Cleveland Heights
216-371-1010

In the middle of our dinner at Brennan's Colony, a family occupied the booth behind us, complete with a couple of kids running around.

Leading Foodgoat to wonder: how come he never got to eat at a bar when he was a kid?

The closest I came to a bar as a kid was losing my parents at the shopping mall and sneaking into the one bar in my town to see if they were there. They weren't.

But back to Tryout Tuesday. Brennan's Colony is an old-fashioned neighborhood tavern: worn wood booths, a long bar perched with a variety of types taking in beer, cable news and sports, a Ms. Pacman video game, and good food.

Foodgoat ordered, of course, from the bar menu: beginning with hot wings. They had that crispy, perfectly-fried texture that wings so often woefully lacks, and powerful enough spice to clear out my sinuses just by breathing in the aroma.
Wings were followed by a grilled chicken sandwich with mushrooms and cheese, and a side of onion rings. I, on the other hand, ordered from the fancy dinner menu, surprisingly sophisticated for such a modest place. See how prettily the food is presented?

That's grilled pork chops with sweet potato mashies and bleu cheese butter. On the recommendation of the waiter, I was brave and for the first time ordered something medium instead of well-done, every so slightly pink in the middle. I was rewarded by the juiciest, most succulent cut of pork I've ever had. And so far, no ill effects.

Tryout Tuesday: Anatolia Cafe, South Euclid

Every time we go to ZaZa, we walk by Anatolia Cafe, Cleveland's first Turkish restaurant, and are nearly lured in by the delicious and mysterious smells of ... something tasty. Why resist? We entered the bright and cheerful restaurant and had our first go at Turkish food.


A ha! Caught on film! That's Foodgoat eating liver. And liking it. Which goes to show you how good the Sautéed Liver Cubes (Arnavut Ci?eri) were, because Foodgoat, unlike me, hates liver. Veal liver was breaded, fried, served with lemon and red onions, and lacked the grainy texture that Foodgoat so dreads. He actually finished off his share.

My dish: Adana, which is chopped lamb flavored with peppers, and slightly seasoned with paprika and grilled on skewers. I've never had lamb before, but based on this, I like it. It was incredibly juicy, tender, and quite flavorful. Foodgoat had his share of lamb in the famous (at least that's how our waiter described it) iskender, which was slices of marinated lamb with a yogurt sauce. Quite good too. He didn't finish it, but I imagine it would make an excellent sandwich tomorrow.

Everything at Anatolia was good and fun, except for the yogurt drink which was just straight-up liquid yogurt with ice. Not my cup of tea. Now if there was mango in it, that's another story. But anyway, fun place, good food, which is all the more surprising considering that it's in a beat-up, run-down strip mall.