The Avenue

I had the opportunity to eat at this french restaurant for my fathers birthday. Located on the new promenade boardwalk in Long Branch, New Jersey, the main dining floor is surrounded by towering windows leading to extremely high ceilings with hanging chandeliers in the center. A fireplace marks the center of the far wall, which almost seems out of place because of the very urbanized loyal customers, almost manhattanite decor(besides the high ceilings of course).
Regardless of my scrupulous observance, the meal and the company I enjoyed were definately memorable.

I had two dishes which I would have never imagined eating five years ago.

My appetizer was handmade Veal Cheek Ravioli's with roasted butternut sqush. I was so amazed by the flavor of the veal cheek stuffing inside the ravioli. Better than the most perfect short rib I have tasted(or as I interpret as perfect to this point in my palate's experience). The butternut squash complimented this by adding a smoother texture to the shredded texture of the ravioli filling.

My entree was braised wild boar. This was less than great but still ambitious. Whether it was ambitious for the chef to put it on the menu or for me to order it at a table filled with females, I am not sure. I truely am a sucker for papperdelle pasta and the braised wild boar was listed on the menu with one of my worst temptations (its pathetic, most peoples are chocolate). Unfortunately, the pasta was the best part of this dish. The meat resembled a cross between the flavor of a pot roast and the texture of a poorly executed beef bourginon. I was disappointed but I still managed to search the entire plate for that unique wild boar flavor I had anticipated, but didn't find. Maybe I was just hungry.

Guy Savoy

I just finished reading an article in Gourmet Magazine by Colman Andrews, about the venerated Guy Savoy. The article is a brief but effectively stated description of the somewhat new Restaurant Guy Savoy in Las Vegas. Andrews continues by making minor but surprising comparisons to the legendary Restaurant Guy Savoy in Paris, particularly that the sole he had in Las Vegas was more flavorful than the sole he had in Paris. Would this imply that the seafood in the desert is better than such in Paris? By now, probably.

I found this article most interesting because it allows me to bring up the cultural divide between native French and American chefs. “…Savoy start young:… and once said that his proudest moment was when he first cooked a perfect omelet at the age of seven or eight.” Seven or Eight! When I was that age I had absolutely no responsibility, job, ambition, or even a desire for any of them. I rollerbladed with my friends when I wasn’t in elementary school and probably didn’t even know what an omelet was, I ate waffles with jelly and butter for breakfast, or that such a thing could be prepared perfectly.

Had I been aggressively pursuing a food related career at seven or eight, I would undoubtedly be at a serious advantage by twenty two. But how many American children are actually encouraged to take such a route? When my sister asked my father if it would be a good idea to change her concentration from Journalism to Hospitality Management he recommended otherwise. It was not until I threatened to waste the tens of thousands of dollars already invested in my education by dropping out and attending culinary school did my father finally accept that his son was not going to be a Doctor. Once I finally cooked for him he began to strongly encourage my choice and I will be graduating December 15th with a degree in Hospitality Management, my proudest moment (so far).

But in 1993, when I was eight years old, would it really have been acceptable for my father (an American Doctor) to encourage his son to pursue a career in food service? I think not, and considering the amount of time I could have spent gaining cooking experience while in public schools/college, I may have a minor disadvantage to overcome.

(note: I am very grateful for my public school and college education. The last sentence may seem unappreciative but was not intended to be.)

Vino Ristorante

I wrote this tonight after eating in Queens for a Wine Appreciation and Management Class. Normally I dont like to write about the experience until at least one day after so I can "finish the experience" (digest) and as I wrote that my stomach gargled a little bit of hate. I also did not write about the dessert, or finish a conclusion yet, because im tired and the reflection paper I actually wrote this for is not due until friday.

But, here it is..

In a private room on a Monday night just off of Union Turnpike, Dr. Sung’s Wine Appreciation class met for their second and final restaurant visit. Four tables, each six feet in length, pushed together, covered with white linen and set for sixteen. With the dark red and light red contrasting on the walls, both reminiscent of the red storm, and the comfort of knowing we were on a field trip but still close to home, the familiar faces assembled to enjoy some well prepared and perfectly served Italian Cuisine.

A delicious amuse bouche was served in an espresso cup once our class had filled the table. An amuse bouche, normally complimentary, immediately gives me the feeling that the restaurant cares about every single detail in what is about to follow. Although I could not tell whether it was a lentil soup or pea soup thickened with potato, it was still delicious and got my attention, which I’m sure is what the restaurant intended.

Our first course was a Crab Cake served with mesculen greens and wasabi mayo paired with a Tuscan Montepulciano Rosato produced by Valle Reale. This young 2006 vintage was crisp and could easily stand alone but paired surprisingly well with the crab cake dish. I first tasted each element individually. The wasabi mayo was expectedly spicy and the crab cake was exceptionally creamy. The mesculen greens were definitely tossed in a vinegar and sesame oil but the nutty flavor of the sesame oil could only be detected when the greens were tasted alone. Once all three elements of the dish were put together they balanced well and tasted delicious. Unlike other food and wine pairings, this course paired in a unique way because the spiciness of the wasabi mayo was offset by the temperature of the wine. I always enjoy spicy food with a cold drink and the temperature of this Rosato wine helped me enjoy this already enjoyable dish.

Homemade Ravioli, stuffed with creamed spinach and a pistaccio vermouth cream sauce was served as our second course paired with a 2006 Argentinean Chardonnay. At first, this wine smelled similar to other Chardonnay’s we had tasted in class, green apples, greenish tint, but tasted a little grassier. Our plate was garnished with a single whole pistaccio to accentuate the crushed pistaccio’s in the sauce, I ate this pistaccio after my first sip of the Chardonnay. Then I sipped the wine again after and the Chardonnay immediately took on a different level of earthy flavors. Some of the people ate the table detected this earthy element in the nose but I could not sense it until after eating the pistaccio. The pasta had strong garlic flavor but was slightly muted by the freshly grated parmiggiano garnish. The pistaccio brought out an earthy tone of the wine while the cream sauce made the acidity of the wine more subtle, making this a great pairing as well.

During a pause before our third course was served, we were informed that the wines served tonight were all similar in that the grapes used in producing them were all grown at much higher altitudes. This was interesting to me because I had recently read that this was a growing trend in the industry today. Montepulciano is a high Italian mountain town responsible for our first wine and our second wine was produced from grapes grown in Mendoza, Argentina which is over three thousand meters high. Our third wine, which was being served, was a 2005 Cabernet Sauvignon from Alto-Maipo, Chile, which happens to be in the unique climate of the Andes Mountains. This Reserve wine was served with salmon over black basmati rice and a baby lamb chop. The pairing did not catch my attention as much as the food but the wine was deliciously balanced, fruity, and aromatic.

The food, unfortunately, caught my attention for the wrong reasons. The baby lamb chop was under seasoned. Salt and pepper would have gone a long way in its preparation, so simple yet so frequently overlooked. The salmon was overcooked and the green peppercorn Dijon mustard sauce squirted on top of this fish in the unappetizing, boardwalk hot dog fashion actually tasted better on the lamb chop served next to it. Perhaps this dish is not normally served, I would actually guarantee it was a convenience rather than an expense to serve that salmon, but it left me unsatisfied. However, everything leading up to this point was absolutely perfect and arguably eye-opening.

Giving Thanks

Thanksgiving, done. Thank God. Now I can finally get back to having my meals prepared for me until my semester off from work ends. However, that hiatus from work will only end, provided I find work. Regardless, I just wanted to post a few highlights of the annual gorging. My mother decided to prepare a cornbread stuffing, or dressing, which Emeril demonstrated on Good Morning America. It involved bacon and she promised to still make the traditional stuffing so I could not contest. I chose to make an appetizer, pickled black eyed peas, something I made before for a nyc caterer and knew was listed on the Epicurious.com website. It is a simple recipe, and served on bruscetta is a delicious appetizer. Preparing it a day in advance is essential.
My mother also asked for me to help prepare a vegetable dish. I chose an extremely risky path which involved introducing my family to a new root vegetable. I served roasted baby carrots, parsnips, and celery root in garlic oils with fresh thyme. I realized how risky it could be once my aunt thought the celery root was a potatoe wedge but was reassured once I tasted the vegetables again. I stand by my dishes confidently.
As does my mother. Everything else was perfect. The turkey was worth worrying about towards the end of cooking once we realized there wasn't a calibrated thermometer in the house. But it all came out delicious. Everyone was satisfied and there will be left overs in my fridge for weeks to come.

I'de love to start commenting on the new love affair I've recently embarked on with Wine. Although I'm not as comfortable in my knowledge of wine as I am in my still limited knowledge of food, they always say "ya gotta start somewhere". And why not add a little wine commentary to a food blog? Wine is food, right?

john mayer? comeon..

I found an interesting blog last night, supposedly composed by Mario Batali, about the dark side of food bloggers, or actually blogging in general. I assumed this would cause me to doubt myself as a food blogger stating his own opinions about the dining choices he made and how that effected his dining budget but instead was surprisingly encouraged. He made extremely valid points, most importantly that bloggers have the capability of presenting what they percieve to be fact and the responsibility of backing such statements with evidence. How a blogger actually executes this responsibility is left to be judged only by their peers, which is similar to my motivation for limiting my blog to opinion and observation rather than reporting news, gossip, or rumors. I honestly wish that I motivated to write about this last night, it would have been good. Instead, the urge to cheer on Batali came tonight but unfortunately, when I searched for it I was distracted by what I found.

WHYYY!? John Mayer has a food blog? No bueno. As a 22 year old recent college graduate who has yet to attain gainful employment, my yearly dining budget hovers somewhere between the price of John Mayer's guitar on ebay and the average migrant workers yearly wage. However, so far as I could tell, the biggest concern of Mr. Mayer's newest food blog appeared to be copywriting his food photos. Maybe a photography blog would have been a more effective channelling of the remaining creativity this man has left to offer.

I am not saying Mr. Mayer is not creative, he is obviously an extremely talented musician/singer/songwriter and the whole teddy bear costume in the parking lot of his own show was an undisputable display of genius. Yet besides taking pictures of some punk rock, metal loving sous chefs saliva on his fried chicken, I am not sure that John Mayer has much to offer to the world of food blogging.

George Martin Restaurant

Busy. Busy. Busy. This past Saturday my girlfriend and I made a reservation, based on a friend’s recommendation, at the flagship restaurant of the George Martin Group of restaurants. Initially we attempted to make a 7pm reservation but were told they were taking for 9pm at that moment. Upon arriving at 8:50 we were told that the restaurant was running behind, that they would try to seat us as soon as possible, and recommended taking a seat at the bar for the time being. The bar was packed with an overwhelmingly middle aged crowd either enjoying drinks with friends or waiting for tables as well. After ordering two Heineken Lights we began to observe the subtle but tasteful décor. The dark colored bar stretched possibly two thirds the length of the restaurant with a similarly colored shoulder high wall dividing the bar section from the dining room complete with more stools and ledges to rest drinks. The area was tight but afforded enough room for the more dexterous to easily get a drink even with the crowd.

After about forty five minutes I approached the hostess to ask about our table. She apologized for the wait and confidently said we would be seated in the next 5 minutes. Sure enough, in exactly the time it took to enjoy a cigarette and return, the hostess was ready to show us to our table. As she sat us and handed us our open menus she apologized once more for the wait and insisted on purchasing our first round of drinks.

Perfect. At this point my girlfriend and I were uncomfortably hungry, annoyed because of waiting almost an hour, but still smiling and acting polite. Whether it was because we were polite or not, the fact that she offered to make our first round of drinks on the house displayed an immense amount about how much this restaurant cares about their customer satisfaction. Not only was the hostess aware that they were at fault for this, she apologized vehemently for it as well as took initiative to solve it. Had I known I was about to eat one of the best steaks of my life I probably would not have minded waiting almost an hour without free drinks, but the free first round was a positive first step in what I was previously beginning to think was going to be an average dinner.

As you can probably tell by now, from my description of the bar as well as the overall image of West End Café I was unable to verbally paint, critiquing décor is definitely not my strongest point. However, I plan to perfect these skills by scaling my décor focus down to a smaller, more specific area of the restaurant’s I choose to dine at; the bathroom.

Luckily, I remembered to inspect the men’s facilities at George Martin and was pleased with what I saw. Only one urinal and one stall seemed like limited personal drainage space when compared with the size of the restaurant. I am not positive that this was the only men’s bathroom, there seemed to be an upstairs section, perhaps for catered events, that I would assume had its own facilities. However, this particular bathroom seemed well kept with clean floors, walls, sink space, and a minimal amount of dust accumulation on the overhead fan which implies even that was cleaned often. On the taupe walls there hung some small picture frames of various settings, including an originally placed frame of the evening’s specials just above the urinal. Above this frame hung a small LCD television but I could not tell you what channel it was on. Instead, my attention was focused on what I will call the genius placement of a specials menu as well as the largest of the frames in the bathroom which contained a beautiful painting of a woman lying in front of a vanity mirror in a robe which was falling off her body subtly revealing the top of her right nipple. Suggestive, provocative, and, in the eyes of the mother of a ten year old boy, possibly pornographic yet I found the painting elegant, discrete, and tasteful.

Now the food. Recently my girlfriend and I have been unsuccessful in our attempts to avoid appetizers. Appetizer menu item portions are normally developed on the basis of at least a four top having a small taste of something to whet their appetite prior to entrée. Unfortunately my girlfriend and I are rarely in the presence of another couple whom we agree upon being agreeable enough to dine with. Therefore, when we order these appetizers we are normally eating double the intended appetizer portions and as a result we normally can not finish our entrée’s. Either that or the restaurant needs to wheelbarrow me to the curb just to turn the table.

Unfortunately, just as we decided not to order appetizers and finished ordering our entrée’s, a server walked past with the Asiago Dusted Zucchini Fries. Almost immediately after this another server walked passed with what I was averting my eyes from most on the appetizer menu, Polenta Crusted Calamari. My stomach rumbled in a weird way then sounding like it was calling me an idiot.

I was able to beat the no appetizer depression with another Heineken Light and the anticipation of having my steak. I ordered the Espresso and Ancho Chile rubbed Filet Mignon, just typing the name makes me shudder. It was perfectly constructed dish with whipped sweet potatoes that offset some of the spiciness from the anchos and a Wild Mushroom Merlot sauce. One of my favorite ways to enjoy filet mignon is when it is treated as a blank slate for flavors. The tenderloin or filet mignon has the lowest fat content of all the other cuts and therefore has the least amount of natural flavorings which normally originates within that fat. Some chef’s choose to brine their more lean cuts of meat to draw out more of the natural flavor but I only like to do this with thick chicken breast I plan on cooking unpounded. By choosing to make a wild mushroom merlot sauce for this filet the chef executed the dish brilliantly by complimenting the earthiness of the espresso dust. If executed incorrectly the two would have been competing with each other for their own individual “high-note”. It was also served with steamed broccoli which was cut into perfectly fork sized florets making it one of the most enjoyable meals I’ve had this year.

My girlfriend ordered the petite 8oz filet mignon served with mashed potatoes and a port wine reduction. From what I saw, the reduction could have been a little more pronounced on the dish and from what I tasted, the mashed potatoes may have been lump-less but definitely needed more moisture of some sort. She still enjoyed it all the same.

If I were in NJ on a Friday morning and heard that George Martin in Long Island were doing the Espresso Ancho Chile rubbed Filet Mignon that night, then there’s a strong possibility I may be taking a road trip that afternoon.

West End Cafe

Damn it. I am very disappointed with myself. Not only did I completely neglect to use the bathroom the entire time I was there, but I also did not read the tell tale signs of what would be best off the menu based on what was going on around me. First, the bathroom will tell you a lot about a restaurant. If the bathroom is absolutely emaculate with all the non essential bath elements such as lightly vanilla scented foaming anti bacterial victorias secret hand wash, you can assume that your meal will not be disappointing. If the bathroom is a tight, abruptly placed closet containing a something made out of porcelain barely worth underage vomit with exposed plumbing and a wall full of graffiti that almost seems chronological with the amount of "wuz's" with following dates and/or times, then you better hope your eating pizza or else you could pretty much garuntee a shit meal. Unfortunately, I did not think enough to even look in the fucking bathroom when ironically enough I can't spend more than an hour in traffic without having to piss my pants.
However, all unexplainable but comfortable bladder expansions aside, my girlfriend and I chose to dine at West End Cafe somewhere in Long Island on a wed. night. We arrived at the restaurant, which lies between a joyce leslie and elementary teacher supply store in the corner of an almost abandoned parking lot, at 6:30. PACKED. The host emerged from a room packed with older diners, all 4 and 5 tops of women over 50 celebrating wednesday I guess with a couple deuces of equally aged people here and there, to relay an hour wait.
After a short verbal domestic "decision" in the parking lot, my girlfriend went in and told the host we would be back in an hour and fifteen, roughly 8 oclock, to which he replied your table will be waiting. Sure enough, when we returned at 7:55 we were immediately recognized and seated within five minutes and in that amount of time the median age of the room was drastically reduced.
The service was excellent. We were seated in the same section, at the same time, as a couple that could have easily been either of our grandparents. The waitress handled the situation perfectly by taking their drink and appetizer orders first and when returning with their drinks taking our order. The wine list was unintimidating, with the cheapest bottle I think just under $30. In hindsight, I guess I acted as the rest of the room may have acted by ordering my girlfriends drink for her, suggesting the special 2005 Spanish Albarino, $9 by the glass. Crisp, kinda like a chardonnay with the stereotypical cat piss characteristic but in the nose instead of on the palate. I chose a $5 Stella Artois from the tap which was served in one of those elegant tall glasses that are just dieing to be knocked over by one of my clumsy elbows.
We chose to have the fried calamari as an appetizer. Definately one of the best I've had. I've actually been trying to describe it to myself the past two days and all I can think about is the seasoning of the flour before you fry it. I was always instructed as a prep cook to season the flour, salt pepper dry garlic and paprika, and once you think it is seasoned enough, do it all once more. Unless you like to taste flour theres no real test for it besides the eye especially if your doing it on the fly. Well, this calamari came out so beautifully seasoned and crisp I was undoubtedly impressed. However, the crispy Duck Confit taco or crepe (i forget) appetizer was looking mighty tempting.
Entree's. My girlfriend got the Butternut Squash Ravioli. Imagine it anywhere else, prepared any other way and you got it. Nothing special besides the assumed, but not contested, homemade element to the rav's. I ordered the shellsteak which I would not normally order. Shellsteak is a little to fatty for my taste and having it prepared medium may leave some parts a little more chewy then desirable but I enjoyed this.
The physical features of the restaurant were definately appealing. Exposed steel framing was covered by maybe six suspended, three foot wide sheets which matched the table covers while accenting the brick orange colored walls and highlighting the painting of an enlarged greek statue's, David? Goliath? IDK, portrait. Pretty descriptively meaty sentence but you'll come to realize that although I may view updated and appealing decor as relevant, it is not as much of a ranking element as quality of food or service.
West End Cafe is definately a restaurant worth visiting, maybe even a trip out of the way. I would probably recognize it as one of the best meals you could find within a stones throw from Roosevelt Field Mall. I would say If but instead, When I eat there again I will definately order one of the lamb items on the menu. The older couple seated next to my girlfriend and I ordered the rack of lamb which had an appearance that would have maintained my attention even if Angelina Jolie were naked in the opposite direction, and the braised lamb shank which had that unforgettable, appetizing, and perfectly 'braised' scent.

I definately have my to-do list once I have the pleasure of dining here again.

I love food.

I love food. I love eating food. There is such a simple pleasure experienced when eating. If you asked me what my favorite type of food is, depending on how I thought you would respond to my sarcasm, I would probably respond by saying Good Food. That being said, not all restaurants can have absolute knockout menu items across the entire menu. Of course there are such places that continue to astound their customers consistently with every item they prepare, that is why I said not all restaurants. However, the majority of the restaurants within my constantly changing dining budget have their strong and weak points. Beacon Street Grill in Neptune, NJ is a perfect example of this; in the past I have given them credit because their burgers are always consistently satisfying and the Black Magic Steak is something I particularly enjoy but too many times I have witnessed a fellow diner sit silently disappointed when ordering off their specials menus. Although they have major weak points on their menus people continue to return because of excellent chowder, good meats, and friendly service of course. This is the normal analysis I conduct in my mind while considering a menu and what will result in me having the best meal possible in that restaurant on that particular evening. I guess it can be summarized as "stick with what their good at."
Service is a defining point of a restaurant and will probably wind up being the unintentional star of this blog.

Next Posting
More on service..
First actual Restaurant visit and Review