The Good, The Bad & The Worst Meal Ever!!

We just returned from a brief vacation in Curacao. It was an interesting island. At the end, L observed "Culinarly, Curacao is in junior high." I would say "stuck in the '70s." But you get the point.

There were a few highlights: the goat stew at Jaanchie's, the banana soup offered everywhere, and the very memorable lunch we had at Perla del Mar, a beautiful restaurant where sat on a deck with waves crashing below. (And La Carretta, the cuban place at the Miami airport was the best food of the entire trip!)

And then there was the worst. meal. ever.

We were in Curacao to celebrate our anniversary (six years of wedded bliss!) I arranged for a sitter for Saturday night. As usual, I spent alot of time and energy trying to find the right place. I settled on Bistro Le Clochard.

It got off to a good start. We were seated in a corner table on the deck, overlooking the ocean. It was dark and the water was pitch-black. The whole scene was very romantic. And at first glance, the restaurant was perfect. A memorable feast was sure to be imminent. But the first clue that things might not be what they seemed was the cocktail list. The drinks listed were things like a "side car," "yellow bird" (a drink w/ rum & galliano), an "old fashioned." Does anyone under 70 still drink these drinks?. Occasionally, a restaurant will have some old school cocktails and it's cool. It's done as a nod to the "Mad Men" era. But this was not done with a wink or a nod. It was clear to me that they had simply never updated their cocktail list.

And so we ordered an expensive bottle of champagne and some appetizers. The apps were good, but not great. Kind of weird. Rock lobster on a bed of kidney beans and escargot served with sauerkraut. For my entree, I was very excited about getting the Dover sole. Lee was equally exicted to try the veal goulash. But when we ordered, our waitress told us that neither were available. She then convinced us to try "La Potence" which she described as pieces of beef served on flaming hot skewers with several "delicious" dipping sauces. Because of the flame, this dish could only be served inside, but she promised to save our table outside for us to return to for dessert. The cost of this entree? $34 per person.

We fell for it.

Inside we went. And, in the light, the restaurant looked as outdated as the cocktail list. Fake ferns adorned the shelves and windowsills. The seat cushions were stained and frayed. the piano player doing a muzak version of Metallica was odd and cheesy. It was all sort of comical, actually.

But we went with it. I felt like I was in a 1970s made-for-tv movie or perhaps, an episode of the "Love Boat." Then they brought out the stupid meat. Yes, it was beef on skewers and yes, they set it aflame. But she neglected to mention the hotdogs on it. Yes, there were dipping sauces but they were far from delicious. No, the dipping sauces were ketchup, tartar sauce, thousand island dressing, and honey mustard. $34 per person? You have to be kidding me. (And just where were the 1970s prices? That was one area they managed to update.)

For some reason, I don't know why, maybe it was because we were in a time warp, we ate the stupid thing. We should have sent it back. However, when the waitress returned, I did not mince my words. I let her know exactly what I thought of that ridiculous meal. Did she offer a complimentary dessert? Did she comp any portion of the meal? No, she did not. When the $300+ bill arrived, my head exploded and everyone in the restaurant witnessed it.

L said we've had alot of hits and were bound to have a miss. This was surely a miss.

Boulevard at Home

I have to confess that I am a very lucky girl. The truth of the matter is that while going out to all these fancy restaurants is pretty awesome, the best dinners are actually the ones at home. The ones that L cooks. It just so happens that L does not just enjoy eating great food. He also enjoys cooking great food. And guess who benefits from his considerable talent?

Now, you may recall a particular dining experience we had a couple years ago that L proclaimed was a "top 5" meal ever. The restaurant was Boulevard in San Francisco. On that auspicious occasion, L smartly bought the restaurant's cookbook in the hopes of re-creating its fabulousness.

In the intervening two years, L hasn't cooked much out of the Boulevard cookbook. We have alot of cookbooks, and he's really been hung up on the impossible Thomas Keller cookbooks (books so complicated that I have difficulty even reading the recipes, let along cooking from them!) But a few weeks ago, L decided to drag out the Boulevard cookbook. In truth, the Boulevard cookbook is not much easier to use than the Keller cookbooks, but L is up to the challenge.

He spent the whole day preparing. The kitchen was abuzz with activity. I worked out, got hair cut and colored, took a nap, picked A from pre-school, fed A, bathed and put him to bed. All the while, L was busy chopping, cutting, basting, heating, saute-ing and other chef-related things.

Finally, at 9:00 pm afte nearly 12 hours of prep, I set the table on our rather fabulous back porch and we sat down to eat.

It was worth every second of work he put into it. The meal was a triumph! We had a filet set on a roasted tomato, beef au jus with a corn-jalapeno relish and a fried blue cheese fritter on top. On the side, we had cubed heirloom tomatoes with goat cheese. We washed it all down with a spectacular bottle of pinot.

Like I said earlier, L knows how to cook and have alot of good meals at home. But there was something special about this meal. It seemed more perfect than usual. L had clearly put his heart into it. Sitting on the back porch with soft lights and soft music, surrounded by trees didn't hurt either. L made the night a special one, a memorable one, even though it was just an ordinary Friday night. L told me once that he learned to cook to help him get girls. Well, that plan certainly worked with this particular girl. But, in the end, I undoubtedly am the lucky one.

Please Come to Boston....(and stay at the Liberty Hotel!)

Boston. It's a city full of history. The Boston Tea Party, the midnight ride of Paul Revere, the American Revolution. And most importantly, my life story, ages 0-28.

I took A there a few weeks ago to see family. I haven't actually lived there in many years, so now when I go, it's as a tourist. We stayed at the Liberty Hotel, former Charles Street jail, turned uber, and I mean UBER, swank hotel. I didn't even bother with my usual obsessive scouring of the interent looking for the best restaurants. The Liberty had 2 restaurants, with great-looking menus (and one celebrity chef.)

Truthfully, this trip wasn't about food (gasp!) It was about seeing old friends.

On Friday night, I met up with a bunch of friends at the Liberty Lobby bar (and later Clink) for drinks and dinner. Most of this group I've kept in touch with for all these years, except for 2, who I hadn't seen in over 17 years. It was a night filled with laughter, drinks, memories and black pasta (yumm!) The years have been kind to all of my old friends. They all seem to have happy, full lives. If that had been the only night I had Boston, it would've been a great weekend.

But, the real focus of the weekend, perhaps the reason I went up there was for Saturday night.

Back in high school, I had two best friends: Lauren & Guy. The three of us, so inseparable once, have not been all together in over 20 years. But (through the wonders of the internet), we got in touch and decided to put the band back together for one night only. (Well, maybe we'll do it again!)

I saved all the best places at the hotel for that night. We met at Alibi, the swank-est of the swank spots at the Liberty. Drinks were flowing, stories were shared, secrets exposed, and without missing a beat, we fell into the same rhythm from 20 years earlier. Guy would've been perfectly happy to stay at Alibi and drink mojitos all night long. But Lauren & I are small girls (both maintaining our high school weight, thankyouverymuch! And she's had 4 kids!!), we needed some food to absorb all that alcohol. So, after several drinks at Alibi, we wondered over to Scampo for dinner. Scampo is the restaurant with all the buzz at the Liberty. "A new take on Italian food" and all that jazz. The food was good. My steak was delicious. Velvety, cooked to medium-rare perfection. But this was definitely a night where everything else was so much more important and more interesting than the food. The food was eclipsed by the night.

But the night was oh-so memorable. So this post isn't about food or a great restaurant. It's about reliving old times and reacquainting with old friends and finding that, even after many years, nothing had changed at all. We could pick up right where we left off. Here's to my old friends: Lauren, who was the cutest girl in high school, is still the cutest girl in the room. Guy, my best friend, my brother, please don't lose me again. Here's to Boston, which will always be home no matter how far I stray. And here's to the Liberty Hotel, which was, for a few luxurious days, my home.

Old Friends & New Restaurants

Ahhh, New Orleans! How can one small city have so much good food, excess amounts of alcohol, ghosts, voodoo, and an abundance of quirkiness? In short, how can one city be so much damn fun??

We just returned from a quick weekend in New Orleans celebrating L's birthday. In planning our trip, we decided to do one "old school" NOLA meal and one more trendy meal. But there's so much to choose from that pinning down the right location for each was torture. After literally months of scouring the internet, and repeated emails seeking advice on this monumental decision to my very patient friends (& NOLA residents), I finally decided on Galatoire's for Friday lunch and Herbsaint for Saturday dinner.

Galatoire's, a 100 year old restaurant in the French Quarter, is known for its Friday lunch. The downstairs part of the restaurant famously does not accept lunch reservations (as opposed to the newer upstairs which accepts reservations but doesn't have the same cache as the downstairs). So, apparently, the locals start lining up at 10:00 am, some send their staff to wait in line for them. And, for those who wait in line, once they're in, they don't leave. They stay and drink until dinner (this custom is known as "Two-for.")

Although I had no intention of drinking until dinner, I really wanted to sit downstairs. But I was warned that "it gets pretty rowdy downstairs." Because we were lunching w/ my 4-year old A, and my friend Jen and her son, I made reservations for upstairs.

As soon as we walked into the restaurant, L immediately loved it. It was full of old world charm. The service was phenomenal. The staff were all dressed in white jackets and bow ties. They were discreet, respectful, helpful and detailed. I started with a Sazerac. Only in New Orleans can you even order this drink. To be honest, it wasn't for me, but I've never been a brown liquor drinker. We also had gumbo, escargot, crawfish etouffe - the staples of cajun cooking. Was it good? Of course, it was. Was it the best food I've ever had? No.

But we had a blast. Those restaurants are like stepping back in time. Suddenly, we were in a New Orleans that existed in the 1920s when people maintained a certain formality and civility that no longer exists. (A time also when children are better seen and not heard. This was definitely not A's most popular moment!)

Saturday night (the babysitter night), we went to Herbsaint with my very close friends Chris & Jen. L & I chose this restaurant because of its celebrity chef, appealing menu and bistro decor.

That day had been over 100 degrees, but the night was perfect. After a cocktail at the bar (a caipirhina for me and Pimm's Cups for Chris & Jen), we decided to sit outside. What a delightful restaurant Herbsaint proved to be. Every morsel of food was fantastic. My favorite thing was the heirloom tomatoes and burrata. But the spaghetti & guanciale appetizer was a very close second. And for entrees, I would say that Jen's braised lamb neck was the clear winner, followed by my duck confit.

As great as the restaurant was, the company was even better (and the restaurant gets kudos for knowing how to stay in the background as needed.) We hadn't seen Chris & Jen in over a year and, when they lived in Atlanta (9 years ago), they were my closest friends. So having the opportunity to eat at a great restaurant was nothing compared to spending time with my far greater friends.

My final assessment of these two restaurants: Galatoire's you do once. Herbsaint you return to.

BEST. MEAL. EVER.

Setting: Lisbon, Portugal
Restuarant: Gambrinus
Time: a beautiful night in April

It finally happened! We had the best. meal. ever. Not just the best meal, the best whole food/dining experience. I don't think it can be surpassed in my lifetime. It was was, in a word, perfect.

L, A, & I spent a glorious week in Lisbon earlier this month. We had many, many great dining experiences. I had heard that Lisbon was a great food town. Those reports were wrong: Lisbon is a fantastic food town!

I had arranged for a babysitter for two nightswhile in Lisbon. So, the restaurant choices we made for those two nights were particularly critical. In pre-trip research, the name Gambrinus appeared on every best restaurant list I found. As it happened, we stumbled upon it our second night in Lisbon and it was literally two minutes from our apartment.

So, for the first of our two adults-only nights, L made a reservations at the fabled Gambrinus. We were ushered to our seat the moment we arrived. The wait staff was comprised of handsome men in their 50s wearing black or red suitjackets. Seconds after we were seated, our head waiter (ultimately we had several) asked if we wuld like something from the bar. I immediately ordered a caipirihna (a drink I fell in love with in Portugal). Our waiter kindly shook his head and patiently said "No, I'm sorry, we don't serve those." I instantly realized that I had made a mistake! I had essentially ordered the equivalent of an umbrella drink in this old-school, formal establishment. Ofcourse, they didn't serve caipirihnas! I immediately said "Ok, well I'll just have whatever you think I should have." L nodded in agreement. Our waiter seemed pleased (thank god! for som reason, we felt the need to please him!) He then brought us each a glass of white port.

From that point on, we were like newborn infants to our bevy of waiters. They let us think that we were in charge, but really they were just humoring us. They were in charge. Not in a bad way. In a parental way. We were safe. We were taken care of. We were loved. We were also teased, flirted with (me, not L), and generally viewed as a source of amusement for our waiters.

Then the food started coming. First up, a piping hot skillet of shrimp and garlic. The shrimp tasted like it had been pulled from the sea moments earlier. It was simple and delicious. THen we shared a pasta course. Linguini with clams and tomatoes. Again, delicious. For out main course, we could not resist getting lobster. In making that decision, our waiter brought out two live lobsters, one large, one small. We opted to share the large. When it was cooked, he returned with it whole, showed it to us, and then delicately served it to us. He may as well have spoonfed us. (There was also a delightful bottle of red wine in there. Recommended by the waiter, of course.)

Before dessert, we were advised to have a glass of dark port. The waiter brought over an ancient looking bottle with some elaborate bottle-pouring contraption and poured the port in front of us. It was quite an elaborate show of old portuguese custom.

And then finally dessert. Crepes Suzette. Boy, was that a show! Our waiter brought over a mini gas stove top with a serving cart with things like a bowl with batter in it, a bottle of Gran Marnier and a bunch of other liquores. He then began pouring the batter and the liquor into a skillet. Flames that were two feet high leapt from the skillet. The comic side-kick waiter stood in mock terrorwith a fire extinguisher. The whole show was charming. The finished product was fantastic. Another simple, but delicious course.

We left that restaurant full, a little tipsy and $300 Euros poorer. And giggling like school children. It was worth every penny. I would gladly fork over the equivalent of a mortgage payment to dine there again. I miss my waiters. I miss the white port, the fabulous lobster, the sinful dessert. Oh, Gambrinus! Thank for an unforgettable night in Lisbon. Thank you for the best. meal. ever.

Santa Claus Is Coming to One Midtown

A few weeks ago, L got an email inviting us to have breakfast with Santa at One Midtown Kitchen on December 18th. He immediately made the 9:00 am reservation. We both agreed that taking A to see Santa at One Midtown sounded way better than standing in line at the Mall.

We have always loved One Midtown. It opened in late '02, and was the first restaurant in Atlanta that I dubbed "nightclub dining." The food is excellent, but you go there for the scene as much as for the food. One Midtown used to be on our regular rotation, but it's fallen off. So many new places have opened that it's hard to keep up. On top of that, One Midtown had a revolving-chef issue which resulted in it becoming a little...inconsistent. (However, Chef Drew has been there for awhile now and he's well known as an exceptional talent.)

Nonetheless, we were both excited to take A there for breakfast with Santa. But Saturday mornings aren't really my thing. And we were supposed to be there at 9:00 am. A typical Saturday for me involves going to turbo kick at 11:30, so I was a little concerned about accommodating both of these activities. To make matters worse, L & I had dinner at Ecco on Friday night, during which I consumed several martinis.

I explain all this to justify the extremely poor decision-making I displayed on the morning of the breakfast.

We all got up and got ready to go. L had to go to work immediately after the breakfast, so he showered and put on a suit. I knew A was going to get his picture taken with Santa so I put him in some dress clothes. Brown cords and a thick cable knit sweater. He looked adorable. But me? What did I decide to wear? Well, to start, I did not shower. What would be the point of that? I was planning on going to the gym afterwards. Since I was going to the gym, I put on gym clothes. Did I put on make-up? Of course not. Again, going to the gym. I did brush my hair, but just barely. So to say I looked a little rough, would be kind. But since the whole thing was going down at 9:00 am, and I honestly didn't think anyone in midtown would be up at that hour, I figured it would be ok.

Boy, was I wrong. How could I have been so misguided? I mean this is the place for whom I coined the phrase "nightclub dining." It's always been a scene. And the whole idea of breakfast with Santa targeted the beautiful, hipster intown parents. The type who effortlessly look good at 9:00 am.

The place was packed. And you know what? Regardless of my appearance, it was a blast. All of Atlanta's coolest parents were there. Handsome gay couples with kids - and you know those guys were decked out. Beautiful moms in designer clothes. People were knocking back mimosas and blooy marys. French toast and bacon was plentiful.

And Santa. I thought A was about to burst with excitement when Santa arrived. We had been given a number (17) when we arrived and had to wait til got there before us to finish with Santa was a real challenge for A. But he made it, and he happily sat on Santa's lap. We had practiced the day before what to say to Santa and he got it out: "Santa, please bring me Buzz Lightyear and Woody."

We had so much fun that we have decided to put One Midtown back on our radar. And we will most definitely return next year for breakfast with Santa. But I will be better prepared for the occasion. At the very least, I will shower beforehand!

Miller Union

Recently, Brad & I were discussing various restaurants in Atlanta and he mentioned Miller Union. This was, in fact, the second time I heard Brad mention Miller Union. When I told him that we had not been there yet, Brad scoffed at me and said "Well, you really haven't been anywhere then." Let me repeat: Brad scoffed at me.

The very next day, I made reservations at Miller Union for the following Friday night. I will not be scoffed at. When I mentioned to L that I wanted to go out to dinner Friday night, he said "Miller Union?" He will not be scoffed at either.

While Brad's derision was not deserved, it is true that L & I have not been out to a new (or really, any) restaurant in quite some time. So we were both quite looking forward to date night at Miller Union. L became even more excited on the way there when he realized that the restaurant was located in West Midtown, a supremely cool area of town that we seldom get over to.

The restaurant, in an industrial setting, managed to be sleek and warm at the same time. At the bar, I ordered their signature drink: the Miller Thyme martini. I'm ordinarily a vodka girl, but this was a gin martini. In fact, all their martinis were gin based, a trend I've noticed of late in Atlanta. I mentioned to the bartender that gin appeared to be new vodka, but he corrected me and explained that vodka had tried to be the new gin, but gin was back. (I have to confess the gin drinks I've had recently have been quite delicious. Not the tangueray and tonic of my college years!)

The restaurant was divided into smaller rooms which created a cozy atmosphere. Certainly, a problem with industrial spaces is they often are cold. Creating small rooms solved that problem. They also padded the walls which reduced the noise. Kudos to both those design touches.

I had spent the whole week studying the menu on line. So, getting the actual menu was a bit redundant. I already knew that I wanted the "farm egg baked in celery cream with rustic bread" for my appetizer. I was sure it was going to be fabulous. L opted for the chicken liver mousse, something I don't care for. Well, if the appetizer course was a competition, I won hands down. The farm egg was amazing. Soft, gooey, egg-y deliciousness.

For my entree, I had intended on getting the quail, but somehow the server talked me into the braised rabbit. Now, this dish was definitely melt-in-your-mouth delicious. The creamed turnips were divine and not like any other turnip I've ever tasted. Occasionally, I get a burst of orange in my mouth. But I have to admit, I couldn't get past the fact that it was rabbit. Maybe they could make it with something other than Peter Cottontail?

L had the New York strip. You would think that a man who runs a steakhouse would not order steak everywhere he goes. Well, you would wrong if you think that. His steak was good but it was the sides who were the stars. A savory polenta and perfectly done brussel sprouts.

Dinner was quite a success. I will now put Miller Union on my list of restaurants I must return to. I must have that farm egg again and I must try the quail next time. Of course, this assumes that I get out more!!