Restaurant Review: Graham Elliot (Chicago)

We could’ve stopped with the popcorn.  The super delicious, parmesan and black pepper topped truffle oil popcorn that just kept appearing in a basket at our table.  I mean, stop it already.

And that was just the beginning.

I spent the weekend in Chicago with two of my very favorite friends in the world.  On Saturday night, in keeping with our “we’re fancy” theme of the day, we had dinner at Graham Elliot (he appeared on episode two of Top Chef Masters but was eliminated).   We arrived at the restaurant and were immediately seated.  We walked through the dimly lit, trendily decorated restaurant and were seated in what appeared to be the wine room…I say this only because the back wall was just a huge wine rack.  

Our waitress arrived soon after we sat down, taking our cocktail order and offering us very informed descriptions of the nightly specials and answering all of our questions (pisco, in case you are wondering, is a  South American liquor distilled from grapes and developed by Spanish settlers in the sixteenth century).  Turns out Graham Elliot likes to change up the menu often and to use seasonal, fresh ingredients.  Thus, the menu had a cornucopia of pumpkin and squash and other warm and friendly autumnal foods.

Before leaving and letting us pore over our menus, our waitress mentioned that the Chef was trying out a new amuse bouche–foie gras lollipops dipped in orange Pop Rocks.  Yes, you read that correctly.  How could someone pass up a Foie-lipop?  I couldn’t.  And let me tell you.  The foie gras was absolutely amazing–smooth and buttery and without that pungency I often find when sampling dishes of the organ meat variety.  And the odd combination of the orange flavor and the popping sensation was a true experience.  The orange was subtle and complemented the foie.  And the popping was just fun and laughable.  Though one of my fellow diners abstained from trying the “meat lollipop,” the other tasted it and enjoyed it, despite her apprehension.  While it was delicious, it was much too rich and maybe a little too interesting to eat in its entirety.  But I’m so glad that I tried it. 

It did not take us long to decide on our meals.  As a shared appetizer, we ordered the cheddar risotto.  The risotto was cooked perfectly–firm without being crunchy yet also soft without being gummy.  The risotto was made with Wisconsin cheddar, chunks of Granny Smith apples, Pabst glazed pearl onions, and crispy prosciutto.  And the piece de resistance?  It was topped with Cheez Its.  While the concept of the dish was unique and, we decided, had a lot of potential, the prosciutto overpowered the cheesy goodness of the dish.  I know, everyone loves prosciutto, but in this case, there may have just been too much.  In the end, we felt there were too many components that just didn’t seem to come together as coherently as we had hoped. 

For my personal appetizer, I ordered the sweet potato bisque, an obviously seasonal choice but a good one for the cold, Chicago night we had just come in from.  The waiter set the bowl in front of me, empty but for the chipotle jam (SPICY!), garlic marshmallow (you heard me), dollops of lime creme fraiche, and the myriad corn nuts.  He then proceeded to pour on top of all that goodness the bisque.  It was a rich combination.  Taking a little bit of every component into each bite was definitely the way to go–the garlic marshmallow melted into the bland (but not in a bad way) bisque, providing a sweet bit of a kick to the warm flavor of the sweet potato.  Add to that the spiciness of the chipotle jam, the fresh citrus from the lime, and the crunch of the corn nuts and you’ve got yourself an unforgettable soup experience.

My companions had the beet salad…it was a sight to be seen.  Everything we ordered was presented in such a way that we hesitated (okay, for maybe a second) before breaking into the absolute artwork put in front of us.  This particular dish was comprised of roasted baby beets, hazelnut clusters (think about the clusters from Honey Bunches of Oats but substitute oats with ground hazelnuts), little balls of peppery goat cheese, micro arugula, pickled pears, and horseradish froth.  Yes, friends, the whole dish came covered in horseradish flavored foam.  Both of my friends greatly enjoyed the combination of flavors and agreed it was a great, light [second] start to the meal (or, I guess, third if you count the popcorn).

On to the main courses.  Each of my companions ordered fish–one the Arctic char (brussels sprouts, turnip confit, mustard caviar, and cider bubbles), the other the seared Atlantic cod (smoked clams, brandade beignets (!!!), blistered corn, pancetta persillade).  The fish on both plates was cooked to perfection.  Each dish had such interesting components to it–the beignets were made not from dough, as you would expect, but from mashed potatoes; and the mustard caviar was an interesting and successful attempt to make a powerful flavor option look like a more pretentious add-on. 

The “home run of the night,” however, was my selection:  the Wagyu beef stroganoff.  Now, I’ve been quite interested in the concept of food deconstruction since the Voltaggio brothers appeared on Top Chef this season.  While it totally fascinates me, this approach to cooking also completely confuses me.  Sometimes, I just don’t get it.  Not the case here.  The dish was beyond fabulous–in presentation, in concept, in execution, in taste.  The beef was melt in your mouth perfect.  It sat, in thinly sliced medallions, over a puree of thinly spread forest mushrooms (think the consistency of pate).  It was accompanied by two mounds of peppered spaetzle that were of lukewarm temperature (but it worked) and had a slight sweet hint to them (it kind of reminded me of the flavor of traditional, sweet, macaroni salad–the kind you can buy by the bucket load in the deli section at the grocery store).  The plate was finished off with two dollops of warm creme fraiche.  Each “piece” of the dish separately was a flavor dream come true.  But, put all together on one forkful, you tasted the ultimate result of beef stroganoff (albeit definitely less rich and much fresher tasting than that with which you are probably familiar).  Had I had double the portion that was put in front of me, I would have easily devoured it…and been more willing to share more of it with the gals.

We couldn’t leave without some dessert.  We ordered two:  the blood orange dreamsicle was another deconstructed creation.  The “citrus supremes” were small, gelatinous, orange cubes–they reminded me (in both taste and texture) of a jello mold my mom used to make that had cool whip mixed into it.  Anyway, it was good but not OTT to die for.  And, honestly, the crunchy meringue that came on the side was just a little weird.  Our second choice was the pumpkin pound cake.  The dish had four small cubes of pound cake, candied ginger, cinnamon stick, and pieces of pie crust and whipped cream.  I’m not sure why the Chef added the pie crust to the presentation but, bravo.  It was my favorite part of the dish.  The ginger was very strong and totally overpowered the rest of the dessert, if you allowed it to.  All in all, the desserts were my least favorite part of the meal. 

So there you have it…my first travelling review.  If you’re ever in Chicago, I highly recommend making a reservation and heading over to GE.  The amusement you’ll get just from reading through the menu and marvelling at the Chef’s creativity is enough.  And, you can only eat so many pieces of deep dish pizza (in my case, two at Gino’s East.  YUM.), Chicago Dogs (just one at the airport, but it was worth the wait),  or bags of cheddar and caramel Garrett’s popcorn (my fingers were orange for days).  

(And sorry about the quality of the pictures–I know they’re worse than usual…I didn’t want to draw attention with the flash…but go to the website to see pics, if you want).

Separated at Birth?

So, I was catching up on the season premiere of One Tree Hill last night (don’t judge) and was delighted to see that Scott Speedman was playing Nathan’s agent, Clay.  I excitedly emailed a good friend of mine who has had a serious crush-o-rama on SS since the Felicity days. 

“Your bf,” I typed hurriedly, “is on One Tree Hill!” 

So, this morning, I decided to see if he was on for the whole season…and I realized my mistake!  It wasn’t Scott Speedman at all!  It was, in fact, Robert Buckley.  You know, the cutie pie who played Kirby on Lipstick Jungle (RIP).   Or, even better, Kyle from the Lifetime classic Flirting With Forty. 

Seriously?  They are twins.  For real.  A doppelganger if I’ve ever seen one.  How had I not noticed this before?!

And, PS, WTF happened to Lucas and Peyton on OTH?  How did I miss the memo on that??

Restaurant Review: Art and Soul

So, last week was Restaurant Week in DC.  Usually, I’m all over this,  rounding up the troops and hitting as many spots as possible.  This year, the timing was bad, so I was only able to go to two places…the first of which was Art Smith’s downtown hotspot, Art and Soul.  For those of you not familiar with Restaurant Week, let me give you a brief synopsis:  three courses for $35.09 (for dinner) or $20.09 (for lunch).  Many restaurants allow you to choose from the entire regular menu.  Other restaurants, such as Art and Soul, limit the menu.  Tremendously.

Art wasn’t there.  Well, we assume he wasn’t.  I was told that I was not allowed to ask (by my brother, per Anthony Bourdain), and I didn’t see him wandering the dining room.  I really wanted him to come to our table, chat, and give us all hugs.  But, alas…

Let’s get atmosphere out of the way.  Because, lbh, who really cares about that?  The decor of the restaurant is very trendy and hip.  Everything is black and red and the design attributes are very modern and  clean lined.  The setup is very open.  The dining room leads into the bar area which leads into the hotel lobby.  The bathroom is, in fact, there and not in the actual restaurant.  But, that’s not important.  What, you ask, is important?  The food!

And off we go.  We’ll start with the bread.  Which was delicious.  So delicious that we had seconds.  And quickly.  My brother, one of my dining companions, called it Monkey Bread.  Basically, it was a big piece of bread that broke off into pieces.  The bread was served out of a skillet and was warm and buttery.  It was more yeast roll than dinner roll.  How’s that for an explanation?  The butter was soft and easy to spread.  This, as you know, is a bonus.  There is nothing worse than cold butter that rips the bread as you try to spread it. 

For our first courses, we sampled gazpacho,  the shrimp appetizer, and the Caesar salad.  The gazpacho came topped with a creamy dollop of avocado (perfectly ripe, smooth and buttery) and a pretty large shrimp.  I enjoy a chunk of tomato or some cucumber every now and then when I have gazpacho…a little bit of a bite, if you will.  So, for my taste, the soup that was set in front of me was pureed a bit too much; it would have been quite appropriate for my pre-toddler friends, those without teeth.  In addition to it’s smooth quality, it also was a bit bland and needed quite a bit of help from my friend, Salt.   That being said, the overall taste was very fresh and it was a great starter on a hot summer night.   Best of all, it didn’t have that V-8, over processed taste that restaurant gazpachos sometimes have.  The shrimp appetizer was skeweredand grilled to perfection (with a lime chile marinade) and its accompanying sides were a tasty complement.  The best part of the Caeser salad was the deviled egg that accompanied it.  By now, you know how I feel about the deviled egg…and this one may have been the best yet (I know, I know, I’ve said it before).  The filling was creamy and smooth and had just a touch of each ingredient so that not one overpowered the other.  Based on the texture of the filling and my experience with the gazpacho, I’d say Mr. Smith and his sous chefs have a very close relationship with the immersion blender.

 Ok, so we also ordered an extra appetizer.  We could not possibly go to Art and Soul and not sample the famous Hoe Cakes (at Lady and Sons in Savannah, the hoe cakes are what come in the bread basket; as their famous t-shirts attest, “Our hoes are free.” Go Paula.).  And, of course, we had to order the most deluxe version:  the picnic basket.  This variation of the traditional cornmeal treat was topped with pulled pork bbq, baked beans, cole slaw, and “corn on the cob” (think party scene from “Big.”  And, how appropriate.  Art and Soul?  Heart and Soul?  How clever. Of me.  To make the connection.).   The hoe cake was actually pretty thin and tasteless.  But the pulled pork bbq greatly made up for it.  I could’ve eaten a mound of the that.  Sadly, no one ate the “corn on the cob.”

I don’t know how many times, on Top Chef Masters, the judges (ew, Kelly Choi) made a comment about Art’s affinity and talent for cooking chicken.  Especially of the fried variety.  So, when I saw chicken on the menu, I was stoked.  Like thinking about it for days beforehand.  But then came the disappointment.  The chicken?  Not.  Fried.  It’s just, well, chicken.  Pan fried with the skin on, it was still delicious, but not what I had my heart set on.  However, the goat cheese drop biscuit, roasted vegetables, and supremely lumplesschicken gravy made up for all of that.  As one dinner companion proclaimed, “I only liked my mom’s gravy…until now.”  The biscuit was to die for; each bite had the tang of goat cheese which, surprisingly, went quite well with all the other flavors on the plate.   The salmon, which came accompanied by pea risotto, golden beet relish, and a preserved lemon vinaigrette was tasty but unremarkable.  The risotto was a vibrant green color, thanks to the fresh peas, but it was also a bit gummy.  The pork chop, served with charred stone fruit relish and swimming in a sweet onion broth was the thickest chop I have ever seen–at least three inches high.  The meat was perfectly cooked and tender.  

And, of course, we had to get an extra side of the macaroni and cheese.  How could one go to a Southern themed restaurant, where Art Smith is the chef, and not partake in the gooey deliciousness?  And gooey and delicious it was.  A little more “saucy” than I prefer, it was still among the best I’ve ever had (again with the hyperbole, I know).   Touted as the macaroni casserole, this cheesy pasta dish was perhaps one of the best things we ate all night.  Give me that and some monkey bread and I would’ve been set.  The top was crunchy without having any sort of bread crumbs on top.  The waiter claimed that the sauce just had cheese in it–a special cheddar from the middle east…of the United States.  This is exactly how he said it, too.  Though I’m not always too good at picking out flavors or figuring out technique, I’d be willing to bet that there was some cream mixed in with that middle east cheddar.  Cream of the heavy variety.

 We had one each of the three dessert choices:  a peach pecan tart, a lemon pudding cake with berry compote, and a chocolate cheesecake with chocolate sauce.  In this case, pictures may do them more justice.

                                                     

All in all, the experience was a good one.  The food was good but not over the top fantastic.  A big bear hug from the chef may have made it better.  I am hesitant to call it great because all of the things I had that should’ve been stellar were just good–the chicken and the hoe cakes, specifically.  I’m not opposed to heading back downtown and having fried chicken for lunch one Sunday, though.  With a side of the mac and cheese, of course.

Here’s a quiz…name that herb!  The picture below is of an herb that was on every single plate as a garnish, and also growing, in a little tin pail, as the centerpiece on our table.

An Open Letter to Rachel Zoe

Dear Rachel,

First of all, you are fabulous.  I know you know that.  But I had to say it.  Not even those real housewives could keep my attention for nine straight hours.  The only person who could even come close to occupying my time and helping me waste away a bad headache is Jeff Lewis.  Are you guys friends?  That would be bananas. 

Because I spent several hours “with” you this week, I feel like I am now in a position to talk to you.  Like a friend.  And tell you some things that bother me.  Because, of course, some things do.  And, as your friend, I feel like you should know.

1. Let’s start with the company you keep.  Taylor.  Bad attitude.  With a capital B.  Speaking of capital Bs, she is one.  Some people say you are, but I’d argue you deserve to be.  Taylor?  Not so much.  She has a job anyone would kill for yet she treats you with disrespect.  (What was with her refusing to work upstairs with your homely assistant, Marissa, and moving her desk and Brad’s from the loft to the main room?  Completely ridiculous.  But way to stand firm on that one.) Sure, she pulls through in the end and gets the Dior dress delivered, or she calls Brad and makes nice after she makes him cry, but come on.  Is she that indispendable?  I say stick with Brad.  Love.  Him.  She does have a good eye, though…maybe she should use that to do something about that hair of hers.  And now we can move on to Rodger.  Really, Rach?  For someone as smart and sophisticated as you are, who spends day upon day with the fashion elite, many of whom include non-heterosexuals, how can you not see that your husband might prefer men to you.  Or, frankly, anyone to you.  And what’s with the extra letter in his name?  Get rid of it please.  Thanks. 
2. Love your style and wish I could pull it off.  But, there’s a little too much fur.  And animal print. 
3. Brad is pretty awesome.  He’s useful, he has a good attitude, and who doesn’t love the bow ties and cardigans? 
4. Where does your daily Venti Starbucks come from?  You’re always drinking it in your robe, and I seriously doubt Rodger actually gets up, gets dressed, heads to bux, and brings it home for you.  And, what exactly is it that you drink? 
5. Stop being so dramatic.  How many times can you actually die over something within an hour long montage of your life?  You died over a vintage Cartier necklace.  You died over a vintage Dior dress. 
6. I’m not going to knock you down for being thin.  You work crazy hours, you don’t eat during the day, you just drink Starbucks (but, again, would really like to know what’s in that coffee cup)…your emaciated look is to be expected.  But please promise me you’ll try to eat a cheeseburger.  Or something.
7. Kind of funny that you always want your clients to own their look when everything that they are wearing is borrowed.  Don’t get me wrong, I’d totally own it if someone let me wear a Chanel dress personally altered by Karl Lagerfeld and some hot Louboutin heels,  just making note of the irony. 
8. Is Zoe your last name?  Your middle name?  And why is it pronounced “Zo” and not “Zo-ey”?  What’s Rodger’s last name?
9. How did it feel to be called Raisin Face and Lettuce Cup by Nicole Richie?  Are you guys friends again?  Do you credit her with your burgeoning career?  No one knew who you were before your famous feud, wouldn’t you say?
10. Do you smoke?  Because you look like you do.
11. Do you promote the wearing of open toed boots?
12. What’s with the muumus?  You’re really attentive to what you eat (a little bird told me that you whisper your order of three spears of asparagus nightly at Chateau, I mean, how many fewer calories can you eat in a day) (or should I say don’t eat)  yet you still choose very unform fitting dresses–totally different than the slim silhouettes you choose for Annie and Eva, among others.  I think you might have some serious body issues.   Maybe devote some of the time you spend pushing the wisps of hair to the side of your face (you know what I’m talking about) into some therapy? 

I don’t want to make you cry, so that’s enough for now.  And, really, I think you are bananas.  For real.

XOXO,

La

Restaurant Review: Il Fornaio

Hello and welcome back, everyone! 

So last night we celebrated CEBM‘s impending foray into her fourth decade with a besties birthday dinner at Il Fornaio at Reston Town Center (RTC).  Generally, I try not to do reviews of places that are chains (but not in a Chili’s/Applebees kind of way), but I am going to overlook that rule today because (1) I actually have pictures to share and (2) we need to talk about their Happy Hour (even though it feels like I’m telling this big secret that I really shouldn’t share).  

So, Hands, BS, CEBM, and I got to the restaurant just as HH was ending…or so we were told.  Luckily for us, the 6:30 end time was a sham.  The buffet table of delicious appetizers remained out and replenished until we sat down at our table some time around 7:00.  Now, if for nothing else, you must go to Il Fornaio for the HH snacks.  Fried calamari?  Check.  Margherita pizza?  Check.  Mini meatballs?  Check.  Cheese and fruit platter?  Check.  All for the low cost of $0.  Yes, you heard me.  $0.  

The drink specials were not really advertised.  I find that most places have table tents or the like with the various HH offerings.  Here at Il Fornaio, you have to ask the bartender.   As I did not have wine (I focus on food, people), I am not 100% certain what the specials were…but I am pretty sure there were four types of wine from which to choose and they were $5 a glass.  There was also one for $2.50 that started with a P.  That’s all I’ve got.

Now, on to the real food.  By this time, LKB has joined us and our fivesome is complete.  Most of us, except for BS, who orders the Caesar salad (and, yes, it does, in fact, come in a side salad size.  And, even if it did not, customer service kind of requires that you accomodate the request…because you obviously have (a) smaller plates and (b) all the ingredients) decide to try the soup du jour–Butternut Squash.  While ’tis not the season for such a rich, orange delicacy, the squash was a prominent feature on the menu.  Those of us who partook (is that a word??) in the soup were not disappointed…it was very thick and creamy.  The shavings of fresh parmesan on top were plentiful and melded well with the rich flavors of the soup.  For me, while the soup was tasty, it was also a bit bland.  I used a good amount of [clumpy, clumpy] salt to enhance the taste.  One thing I noticed, perhaps because I am not a fan, was the hint of rosemary.  I did not think a soup such as this was an appropriate place to showcase this most vile herb, but it was subtle enough that it wasn’t overpowering.  Of course, if you have an aversion to it, you’re going to taste it more than others (my “others” didn’t taste it at all).

Our entree choices weren’t really all that diverse, either.  Three of the five of us ordered the risotto special…it came with crab meat, shrimp, and asparagus.  And some sauce that made it yellow.  (Note:  I now realize that I should’ve been aware (because I’m not that dumb) that the yellow was saffron.  I also know it is the most expensive spice on Earth.  Thanks for sharing yours with us, Il Fornaio).  The risotto was cooked to the right consistency and wasn’t sticky, mushy, or overly al dente.  Very few leftovers made their way home. 

Our two “different” entrees were the butternut squash ravioli and the tagliatelle with bolognese sauce.  The ravioli came accompanied with a sweet marinara sauce and crispy sprigs of sage.  Upon placing it on the table, the waiter made sure to tell LKB that the sage was not for decorating purposes, as would be parsley, but was rather an edible garnish.  He told her to take a bite of ravioli with a slurp of sauce and a piece of the sage in order to get an ultimate taste explosion.   Not sure how I feel about being told how to eat my meal, but it was nice to have a waiter who knew–or gave the impression of knowing–what he was talking about.

My tagliatelle was tasty.  The ratio of sauce to pasta was perfect, something that is difficult when both the sauce and the pasta are of such distinct textures and are both quite heavy.  With a sprinkling of freshly grated parmesan, this was a delicious and unregretful choice.  Again, though, the selection, at least for my taste, needed a little help from my salt shaker. 

The waiter, knowing it was CEBM’s birthday (kind of) was kind enough to bring out a special dessert for her.  I present to you, the birthday tiramisu:

 Or what was left of it.

I have finally found it…

…it being a cupcake that has both delicious, non-overpowering icing and a deliciously moist cake. 

Where, pray tell, did I find this fabulous, perfectly delectable, surprisingly delicious, morsel of goodness?  I am wondering if I should give away the secret…

Ok, fine.  Here:  Buzz Bakery, in Alexandria (thank you, Renea and Graham!). 

I present to you Buzz’s cupcake of the month:

Thanks to Metrocurean.

Yes, that’s bacon on top.  And bacon crumbled into the peanut butter icing.  That tops the perfectly baked (I cannot emphasize this enough) devil’s food cupcake (and I don’t care that it tasted like Betty Crocker straight from the box.  If it was that, kudos to the baker who baked it to perfection.  If it was, actually, from scratch and still tasted like that, then kudos to the baker who baked it to perfection). 

I mean, come on.  I know it sounds disgusting.  But that combination was so interesting and such a surprise to your tastebuds that you have no reason but to just revel in its authenticity and uniqueness.   And the flavor.  By God, the flavor.  If a peanut butter and bacon sandwich is good enough for Elvis, a chocolate cupcake with peanut butter and bacon icing is good enough for me.  You like the mixing of savory and sweet (think chocolate covered pretzels, for example)?  Then this is the cupcake for you.  The peanut butter icing, by virtue of its main component, was not too sugary to begin with–which is good, since the cake part took the cake (haha) in the sweet category.  Thus, when you mixed in the bacon it just added a subtlety to the icing.  Don’t get me wrong, the taste of bacon was quite obvious (and happily shocking) but it melded so well with the minimalist peanut butter icing and the cake.  And then on top of the cake in just the right proportion…heaven.

Now, I know Elvis had banana on that sandwich, too.  Josh Short, the baker extraordinaire at Buzz, smartly left that ingredient out.  To include it would have been overkill.  Ha, I’m assuming he even considered including it.  I’d never try to put thoughts into the head of such a phenomenal and creative baker.

Those who know me know I have a slight obsession with the cupcake.  And, I’d like to just throw it out there–while I have a public forum–that I enjoyed a good cupcake well before cupcakeries began popping up on every corner.  Right next to Starbucks.  That being said, I enjoy travelling about town, stopping in on bakeries and the like, trying out their attempts at the individual sized cake.  Because, essentially, what is a cupcake but that?

Anyway, my friend Whitney (a fellow individual min-cake connoisseur) and I sampled a couple (ok, more than a couple) such creations on a recent trip to Georgetown a few weekends ago.  I meant to write a battle of the cupcakes review.   I really did.  But, now, after indulging in this gem today, I think that there is an actual war that is raging in the cupcake world. 

Whitney and I had our first cupcake at Baked and Wired.  We chose and shared a Red Velvet, as that is a favorite of us both.  To say this cupcake was unremarkable would be a compliment.  The cupcake was the opposite of indulgent, and even more the opposite of delicious.   So opposite, in fact, that we each took one bite and decided to share it with the trash receptacle.  The cream cheese frosting was so dense and so sweet that one would wonder if there was any sugar left in the bakery.  There was not even a tinge of the tartness you expect to savor in a cream cheese frosting (and, granted, the ratio of butter to sugar to cream cheese is a difficult one to master.  But, if you’re going to open a bakery?  That is “known” for its cupcakes?  I’d suggest you perfect that one.  Just sayin’.).   Add to that that the cake was dry beyond belief.  It crumbled into teeny, tiny crumbs.  This is an attribute a good cupcake should never possess.  We left Baked and Wired $3 poorer yet hopeful that our next spot would relegate success.

Several hours later we found ourselves standing in line (one that went halfway down the block, in fact) in 90+ degree heat awaiting the nirvana that many claim is Georgetown Cupcake.  Now, our bakers at GC have been featured on the Today Show and on both Rachael Ray and Martha Stewart’s shows.  Owen Wilson has even been known to stop by when he’s in town.  And for good reason.  Their cupcakes are, undoubtedly, tasty.  But, they’re also inconsistent.  I say this because, in my experience, you can go and get the same cupcake three days in a row and it will never taste as it did the day before.  Similar, yes.  But never the same cake texture or flavor consistency.  At least in my experience.

 On this trip, we sampled many flavors of cupcakes, each purchasing six (for ourselves and others, of course).  My mom, who is quite opinionated about food of the sweet variety, claimed that the cupcakes she had (lemon with raspberry icing and vanilla with chocolate icing) were both “very good.”  She made note that the icing was not too sweet and not of an overwhelming amount (as that, for instance, of Cake Love (whose website is as underwhelming as its desserts) or Crumbs) and that the cake was “not dry.”  Usually, she aptly stated, it’s either a great cupcake and horrible icing or an awful cake and fantastic icing.  This, while not great and fantastic, was at least even across the board as good.  Good cake, good icing.  This makes for a good cupcake. 

But, unlike the one I had today at Buzz, the GC cupcakes were not great.   The red velvet, per Whitney, was just cake dyed red (or so it seemed) 

Thanks to U Street Girl's blog for this photo.

and did not have the German Chocolate flavor she was expecting (she did say that the version I make myself at home is a million times better.  That’s because I add pureed chocolate chips and cream cheese to the batter.  Sometimes, if I’m feeling extra risky, I throw in a dollop of sour cream.  But enough about that…).  GC’s cream cheese icing was leaps and bounds better than that of Baked and Wired but, again, nothing special.  The chocolate cupcake with chocolate frosting and chocolate sprinkles passed the taste test of my two year old pal, William.  He and his parents enjoyed the vanilla on vanilla, the aforementioned chocolate cubed, the red velvet, and the vanilla with chocolate icing.  While they enjoyed them and thanked me for bringing them, not one of them even mentioned how delicious they were until I asked.  I figure, if they were great, I would’ve heard about it immediately.   I will say that, despite the long line full of anxious anticipation, the staff at GC really knows how to get a line moving.  They are very efficient and kind.  They do not seem, either, to make mistakes.  Also, the menu is quite eclectic and the “special” cupcakes change with the season.  Despite the inconsistency, I look forward to stopping by in the fall for a pumpkin spice cupcake.

Since I mentioned them above, I should pay respect to Warren Brown and Cake Love and what, until a few years ago, was the be all end all of cupcakes in this area.  I have given Mr. Brown and his creations three chances…the last of which, actually, was yesterday, when I chose a vanilla cupcake with chocolate icing over a DQ Blizzard.  Bad move.  For the third time, I was disappointed.  With the flavor, with the texture…with everything.  Including the service.  I happened to go to the location that was in the mall.  The employees were rude and hyperactive teenagers who were more interested in acting crazy and loud and–I’m gonna say it–under the influence and who were more interested in talking about hoodies and Forever 21 than they were with even pretending I (and three other people) was in line.  It left a bad taste in my mouth before the cupcake even had a chance to.  Which it did.  No more Cake Love for me.

So, friends, there you have it.  My search for the perfect cupcake, though, is far from over.  I still have many cupcake joints to try in this great city of ours.  And I look forward to doing so.  But at least, now, there is some competition.  Competing with badness and mediocrity is boring.  The rest of these places have their work cut out for them and my tastebuds anxiously anticipate the challenge.  Let the battle of the cupcakes continue.

Restaurant Review: Counter Burger

Finally, after months of walking by the empty shell of the restaurant it was about to become, Counter Burger at Reston Town Center (RTC for those in the know) is open for business! 

Last Friday I “had some shopping to do” and had heard that this long anticipated restaurant had opened its doors to the public.  Thus, I recruited my friend and dining partner, Erin, to join me on a shopping and dining excursion.  We were not disappointed.

First things first:  the name.  I’m not really certain if it’s called The Counter Burger because they have a huge, soda shop like counter in the middle of the restaurant or because it is unlike (haha, counter to) any other burger place around.  Both would fit the bill, here. 

Upon entering its doors, you’re immediately taken aback by its bright and shiny interior.  The place is very welcoming, in a retro yet non-retro kind of way.  Lady Gaga, Justin Timberlake, and old school Madonna sing to you as you accept your clipboard from the hostess and step back to read about your options.  The music was definitely upbeat and dance worthy.

According to the website, there are over 312,120 different burger combinations.  An eighth grade math teacher could totally use this joint to teach permutations (wow, look how I pulled that out of nowhere).  The best thing about this place (aside from the sweet potato fries–to be discussed later) is that there are choices.  Lots and lots of them.  So many that, for a moment, you may become overwhelmed. 

But then you get over it, because their ordering process is so…ordered.  It is just one big checklist, handed to you on a clipboard and with a cute little putt putt golf type pencil.  The first thing you pick is your protein (as a fan of Top Chef, I appreciated them calling it this).  Your choices are between beef, turkey, veggie, or grilled chicken (I, personally, wouldn’t consider a veggie burger a protein, but no one asked me). 

Next, you pick a cheese–they have a lot of “different” choices, such as horseradish cheddar (which they were out of), gruyere, feta, goat cheese, and the traditional American and Swiss. 

After you get your cheese on, you have a choice of up to four  included toppings.  These include everything from sprouts and sliced carrot to olives to roasted corn and black bean salsa to hard boiled eggs.  If you’re a burger purist, there’s also lettuce and tomato and red onion.  The choices, though, are astounding, and to choose four things that actually all went together (as opposed to, “oooh, that would be cool on a burger”) was more difficult than you’d imagine.  From there you’re directed to the premium topping options–sauteed mushrooms, fried eggs, homemade guac…you get the picture.  These selections were an additional dollar each. 

Next, you move to your sauces.  If you think you had hard choices before, think again.  Hard not only because there were so many options (ginger soy glaze, mayo, peanut sauce, Southwest Casesar, red relish, spicy sour cream…) but, also, because you had to make sure your choice “matched” all the other flavors you had already selected.  (One thing to note:  all sauces are served on the side “In case,” according to our waitress, “you end up not liking them.”) Erin and I both agreed that, as their restaurant consultants, we would have suggested starting with the sauce and then proceeding with the options backward.   But, alas…

Finally, FINALLY, you pick a bun–English muffin, hamburger bun, or honey wheat bun (there’s also an option, for the carb conscious, for a burger bowl).

Ok, so Erin and I went. To. Town.  I was more traditional in my choices.  I chose the 1/3 lb burger (beef, please!) on a regular hamburger bun (carbs be damned!).  I topped it with cheddar cheese, red onions, tomatoes, pickle slices, and lettuce.  My sauce choice was the country buttermilk ranch.  Ranch?  Yes, because I was a forward thinking consumer and knew that that flavor would blend well with what else was to come…the fries. 

But first, Erin’s burger!  After choosing the beef, Erin went non-traditional.  Her burger consisted of gruyere, sauteed mushrooms, sauteed onions, lettuce, and garlic aoili spread.  On a regular bun. 

Both burgers were fan-tastic.  Cooked to our liking (medium), they came out piled high with our toppings and were almost too big to manage.  Almost.  The bun was fresh and soft and embraced the meat and the toppings quite nicely (that’s one thing I can complain about with regard to Ray’s Hell Burger–their buns need help!).  There was just the right amount of toppings.  Erin and I both found, though, that after a while it was too much, so we opted to take one side of our bun off, which led us to think that maybe, maybe, next time we’d get the burger bowl. 

As our sides, we shared a half portion each of the onion strings (delicious!  Flaky and tender and bite size) and the regular fries (decent, but not spectacular).  These came accompanied by the buttermilk ranch (see how I just arrived at a taste junction?) and the sweet bbq sauce.  We also had a single size portion of the sweet potato fries, which came with a horseradish mayo.  Now, I know.  On the surface, this sounds like a disgusting combination.  But boy oh boy, I would be lying if I said it wasn’t the best part of the meal. 

And, because it’s important to me, I’ll have you know that Counter Burger serves Coca Cola products.  They also have milkshakes (the milkshake of the month was of the cherry pie variety).  We didn’t even venture to look at desserts (not because we were full, though, but because the gelato place next door just opened, too, and we didn’t want to be tempted). 

The service was excellent.  Our drinks were constantly refreshed, they got our order perfectly right, and the food was delicious.  For a place that had just opened three days prior to our visit, this was something we did not expect.  A spilled drink here, an overcooked burger there…but, fortunately, we had a perfect meal (except for the slight lapse in time between getting our meal and the arrival of the sweet potato fries).  I can’t wait to go back and try a different combination.  Maybe I’ll go in with the goal of coming up with the weirdest combination ever.  Or maybe I’ll just get a cheeseburger with L,T, M and call it a night. 

When is enough enough?

In an era when minimalism is becoming de rigeur, when networks such as HGTV, FLN, and DIY are promoting less clutter, and when “staging” is as much a part of selling a home as is putting the sign up in the front yard, my affection for “stuff” is a bit, well, out of vogue.  While not a hoarder in the least, I am probably a nightmare for those who like clean surfaces and empty living spaces. 

Personally, I think that my home is a well-balanced depiction of me and of my personality.  Sometimes it might get a little cluttered (my dining room table often serves a second role as mail collector and my dining rooms chairs seat my purses and bags more often than they seat actual derrieres) I will admit.  But, in general, I think that I have done a good job in decorating and acquiring pieces that truly reflect who I am. 

My weakness is wall space.  I admit it.  I hate a naked wall.  There is not a wall in my 900 square feet of condo space that does not have some kind of framed something or another on it.  Recently, I decided that all of my wall accessories needed to be original.  No more 3 for $99 prints from HomeGoods for me.  No siree. 

Luckily for me, I surround myself with wonderfully talented, artistic, and generous friends.  My most recent acquisition is a three piece painting I commissioned from my good friend, Erica.  Erica is a PR whiz by day but rightfully moonlights as a fantastic painter.  She just launched Studio Eriksdotter, which showcases her acrylics and watercolors and features a blog that highlights what she’s presently working on.   My art, called “Sunflower Rising,” appears on her website but, more importantly, is featured prominently on my living room wall, above my red couch.

I love this for a variety of reasons, the least of which are because it’s original, it was painstakingly painted and created just for me, and it’s just awesome. (And, this photo, which I took, does not do it justice.  I, obviously, was not blessed with a photographic talent.)

Another favorite artist of mine is Wayne Thiebaud.  His work is often of the food variety (think sweets), so it’s no wonder that I gravitate toward his creations.  His prints are the only non-original pieces that currently “clothe” my walls.  My brother and sister-in law listened to my hints and, for my birthday, had Thiebaud’s “Three Machines” framed for me.   The wall on which I have it hanging is in the main living area.  On the other side of that wall is the kitchen, where I have Thiebaud’s “Cakes.”  Both symbolize so many different things to me and I have no problem allowing them to be the exception to my art rule.

I have a hallway wall dedicated to photos of trees–one taken by my friend, Kenneth, who also just started a fan page on Facebook (Lecky Photography).  Because I was one of his first fans, Kenneth gave me a print of my choice from his voluminous collection.  I chose this one:

And that, friends, is just four–FOUR–of the many walls of my humble abode.  I am not sure if the choice I have made to dress my rooms this way is bad or good.  I do know, though, that I love looking at it all.  I love that each photograph is an original, taken by someone I know and printed especially for me.  I love how the black and white of most of my photographs contrasts with the brightness of my prints, my paintings, and my other decorating choices.  I love, for example, that I have a picture of an Italian nun, sitting in a McDonalds in Venice, chomping on French fries.  I love that each of these pieces has a story behind it, and that, often, that story is personal to me in one way or another.  I love that people stop to look at it all, as though this is the Lala art gallery and I have a constant art show going on (champagne, cheese, and crackers provided). 

Bring in a stylist or a stager, though, and I think I might be in trouble.  Less is more, I know.  But, for now, more and excess is how I want to live.  My gluttony comes in many forms, it seems.  And this is just one of them.  While it’s always better to have quality over quantity, in this case I think I might have struck a happy medium.