We Ate the Whole Thing

I was in Atlanta for work recently and had the chance to dine at the newest installation of the B.E.D. restaurant chain, which is located in the boutique hotel, the Glenn. Normally, I wouldn't succumb to such a overtly cheeky trend, but they have beds, which reminded me of a rather fun nightclub in New York called The Apartment, or APT. And there are times, rare times, when submitting to hype doesn't bother me (too much).

My colleagues and I went on a whim, so we didn't have the luxury of dining on one of their beds, but perhaps that was a good thing. Gingerly cutting into a steak while balancing plates and sides on a mattress doesn't sound easy or fun. Still, we enjoyed a delightful meal that included a rather weird twist on a Southern favorite: a WHOLE fried green tomato stuffed with an andouille sausage corn sauce and a side of bacon jerky.

The menu description isn't clear, so we waited for our starter, expecting the small rounds of golden, crispy tomato, until we received what looked like a mangled Granny Smith apple. Naturally, we dove right in. The tomato was bizarre, as it was a bit harder than the soft fried slices I'm used to, but it was still pleasant and refreshingly tomoatoey. The stuffing, on the other hand, seemed to be a mismatch even though it tasted wonderful. The sweet and spicy ragout of sausage and corn seemed like it would have fit better over rice or pasta than stuffed into the green fruit.

The vanilla-braised short ribs with crème fraîche mashed potatoes and haricots vertes was an amazing dish—basically a haute cuisine version of meat-n-potatoes, a combo that never disappoints. Just the right amount of vanilla was used, as it came through in the beef, but didn't overwhelm the olfactories or the taste buds. The mashed potatoes, as you might imagine, were velvety rich, and the green beans were perfectly seasoned and had just the right amount of crunch.

If the notion of eating a whole fried green tomato excites you and you happen to be hanging out in downtown Atlanta, go for it. But much more can be had here—juicy pork chops, excellent filet, and some pretty awesome sides such as polenta fries and cornbread mac n cheese. So while I would recommend trying the tomato for its novelty factor, don't expect it to be the highlight of the meal.

Go to B.E.D. Atlanta:

110 Marietta Street
Atlanta, GA 30303
(404) 222-7992

—AK

Remembrance of Hoagies Past

Every morning as I drive to work, I always seem to hit the stoplight right before Table Talk. Even at 8 a.m., their parking lot is already stuffed with cars, and as I idle at the light I like to imagine that the scene inside must be a veritable who’s who of old school Alexandria.

After three years of feeling pangs of nostalgia at this stoplight each morning, I recently made time to hit Table Talk again, so that I could experience one of my childhood delights for the first time as an adult.

Table Talk is just up the street from my parents’ office building, so it was a frequent destination for breakfast and lunch when I was a wee one. While most of the menu is standard diner fare, their version of the hamburger hoagie stands out as their great contribution to the sandwich canon.

Sure, it sounds kinda trashy, but twentysome years ago I spent many a happy summer afternoon in some spare office in my folks’ office building hunched over a hamburger hoagie and a copy of Bridge to Terabithia (yeah, I shed a few tears at the end).

I don’t believe that the hamburger hoagie is a widespread phenomenon, but then the sort of places that offer it aren’t likely to turn up on Google. But even if the hamburger hoagie is common in other parts, I’m confident that Table Talk’s rendition would trump all others.





Their genius move is to simply stuff a couple of fried hamburger patties into a sandwich that otherwise has all of the same accompaniments as a standard Italian hoagie: lettuce, tomato, mayonnaise, red onions, red pepper flakes, oregano, oil and vinegar, and a sandwich-sized slice off of one of those enormous dill pickles.

And just so there's no confusion, this is not like an ordinary hamburger, where the meat itself takes center stage. The patties themselves are unremarkable. Rather, it's the totality of all of the elements taken together that's the key to appreciating this sandwich.

Indeed, as far as the meat goes, I would have actually preferred it to be a tad greasier, as the patties were a bit too dry. And I’ll definitely ask for extra oil and vinegar next time, so that the bread is properly saturated. Still, it was pretty much identical to the sandwich that I enjoyed as a lad, and I’ll likely be back a few more times before Table Talk’s inevitable demise. If you happen to be in the area around lunchtime, go ahead and take a chance on it. At the very least, you’ll appreciate the quaint diner atmosphere.

As a side note, I’ve noticed a placard in front of Table Talk for the past couple of years touting some future office development in its stead. I asked the woman at the counter how much longer they were going to be around, and she seemed surprised. “Do you know something we don’t know?” she asked. I mentioned the sign out front. “Oh, that sign has been out there for five years now,” she replied. “These things take time.”

Check out Table Talk’s hamburger hoagie:

1623 Duke St.
Alexandria, VA
(703) 548-3989

—AC

Curtido Bandito

During my year and a half of living in the Mt. Pleasant neighborhood of DC, I got quite an education about Salvadorean food, as the area abounded with taquerias and pupuserias, my favorite of which was Haydee’s. My standard order was a cheese pupusa and a side of fried plantains (okay, and a few Tecates), which were served with refried beans and fresh crema. Over the years, I’ve certainly enjoyed more than my share of pupusas and plantains, but none as perfectly prepared as those at Haydee’s. 

But as it turns out, Mercado Latino Pupseria, a hole in the wall in Annandale, just outperformed Haydee’s by a long shot. This tiny place in a nondescript shopping center is easily missed. It is flanked by a shuttered Korean joint and a Chinese herbs purveyor and doesn’t make much noise about its superb offerings. Just a lone sign, “Pupuseria Newsstand” lets you know of what’s inside: magazines and pupusas. But the sign really should say “Plaintains Fried to Perfection and Pupusas to Be Rivaled by No Other” and just leave it at that. No menu needed.

We each ordered a cheese pupusa, and we shared a plate of tacos (one al carbon and one chorizo) and a plate of fried plantains with fresh crema. Normally, I am not picky about pupusas. If it’s a fried tortilla with cheese in it with a side of pickled slaw, I’m happy. But after enjoying of the newsstand’s expert creations, I now realize that I’ve been settling for sub-par preparation. My past pupusa experiences have involved tasty but somewhat hard cheese. The pupusas we had on this day oozed with soft, cheese lava that tasted fabulous and went down the hatch smoothly and seamlessly, instead of hitting the bottom of my stomach like a brick. Also the curtido, a lightly pickled cabbage slaw that comes on the side and which is usually an afterthought, was made fresh at Mercado Latino. The cabbage had a nice cold crunch, and the salsa ladled on top was homemade and refreshing. This is a critical detail to the pupusa experience, as it perfectly complements the fried cheese-filled tortilla in substance, texture, and taste.

Though we enjoyed the generous tacos, served with ample filling on a single, thick tortilla (at first we thought it might have been a pupusa), we’ve enjoyed superior al carbon and chorizo tacos elsewhere. Plus, we prefer an alternative presentation at other taquerias in the area—the filling is piled on two thin tortillas, the second to be used to make an extra taco with excess filling. Next time, we will skip the tacos in favor of the sopa de res, which was the entrée of choice of most of the other patrons. A piping hot beef soup featured a prodigous portion of corn on the cob and a generous serving of vegetables.

Far too often plantains are under cooked, forcing us to chew and chew and chew on a lukewarm chunk of green/yellow fruit. But not here. The plantains came to our table charred to all hell, the look of which pleased us immediately. Because a blackened, dangerously hot plantain can mean only one thing: a very soft, yellow, and sweet inside. The crema was a refreshing topping for each sizzling bite, and the refried beans were a fine salty companion.

We washed this feast down with a couple of our favorite authentic beverages: horchata, a drink of rice milk and cinnamon, and tamarindo a somewhat sweet and sour agua fresca.

We have learned over the years that it’s very easy to screw up horchata; it’s usually way too cinnamony, rendering the drink cloying and a bit like drinking sand. Gross. But here, we have discovered the second best horchata north of the border (the first of which is served in a shack somewhere on First Avenue in NYC). Just enough cinnamon in a glass of cold rice milk is simply heaven.

Enjoy a great Salvadorean meal at Mercado Latino Pupuseria at:

6653-E Little River Turnpike
Annandale, VA
(703) 333-5242

—AK

Notes from Chicago: Healthy Food Lithuanian

As our weekend in Chicago drew near, I figured that we would have just enough time to hit each of the three archetypal Chicago foods: Italian Beef, Chicago-style hot dogs, and deep dish pizza. While we’re normally all about experiencing obscure ethnic delights, I was determined not to deviate from our tour of Chicago’s great contributions to culinary Americana. But then I happened upon a reference to Healthy Food, a Lithuanian restaurant that was decidedly not very healthy at all.

At first, I thought it was skippable. After all, I had lived for many years near Veselka in NYC, had certainly had my fill of starchy Eastern European grub, and figured that Lithuanian food would only be marginally different, and, therefore, hardly worth the extra schlep (this joint would end up requiring us to endure a lengthy combination of Elevated and bus).

After poking around Google for some extral intel on this place, I happened upon their exceedingly charming (if barebones) website. True, I found their menu intriguing, particularly the references to kugelis, but if you ever need a portal into my personal insanity, then note that the following paragraph from their website turned out to be the decisive factor for me:

Be sure to see Gina's collection of Amber, displayed in the showcase by the cashier. She will be glad to show you her favorite pieces. All pieces displayed are for sale. We have miscellaneous small antiques available too. Be sure to look around when you are dining, because you never know what you may find! Your Host--Gina

That’s right. I was ultimately swayed by the amber collection next to the cash register. If you don’t make time to check out the website, it’s important to note that the text is accompanied by a photo of Gina marveling over the glories of her favorite pieces.

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Healthy Food is situated in a dusty blue collar neighborhood sprinkled with repair shops, diners, and dive bars. There’s a taqueria and panaderia (Mexican bakery) across the street, so if you aren’t disgusted by the mere thought of food after your Lithuanian feast, then the panaderia may be worth checking out.

The restaurant itself is very much the wood-paneled time capsule (“authentic ‘50s style”) that it proclaims itself on the website. They have some capital wall hangings, showcasing their Lithuanian heritage. And yes, this icon of the Virgin Mary has been rendered with tiny bits of amber.

We started off with a cup of their Lithuanian yoghurt, homemade, rather tart, but refreshing. They offer their yoghurt in a smoothie, as well, but I figured (perhaps wrongly) that this was some sort of well-meaning concession to recent food trends. This was accompanied by a tall glass of fresh and frothy carrot juice. They also offer fresh vegetable juice, but I was imagining the horrors of a cabbage juice induced coma and overruled it.

Their borscht was easily the highlight of the meal. It was a vivid shade of pinkish purple, undoubtedly the result of blending sour cream and beets, and flecked with green bits of dill. In fact, the borscht was more a showcase for the dill than it was for the sweet and starchy beets. Healthy Food had a true stroke of genius when it came to its tweaking of the traditional borscht format: a side plate of boiled potatoes accompanied the soup so that we could determine the proper ratio of soup to potato.

Thus ends the comparatively healthy portion of our meal.

The entrees were enormous.

We had their blynai, which were mildly sweet, crepe-like, blanket-sized pancakes, ladled with a blueberry compote, and folded over dried cottage cheese curds. I figured that the fruit and cheese option was the way to go with their blynai even though it turns out that they would have been better on their own, accompanied by just a dusting of powdered sugar. I had been expecting a sweet farmer’s cheese, but the dried curds were truly a surprise. They were basically little ball bearings of cheese, dry in the sense that they weren’t melted at all, and mild in flavor. I’m not sure that they really add anything beyond texture and nutrition.

Of course, we had to try kugelis, which is supposedly the national food of Lithuania. Typically, we opted for a gutbusting platter featuring a slab of kugelis, accompanied by an enormous homemade Lithuanian sausage, and a side of sauerkraut. The sausage had a nice snappy casing, but was a bit mild for my taste, almost like a slightly heavier version of weisswurst. And the kugelis is the sort of comfort food that you probably have to have grown up on to appreciate. It’s a dense and creamy slice of potato casserole studded with smoky bits of bacon. Even when paired with sour cream and apple sauce, it’s a bit too intense for me.

We inquired about their “bacon buns”, but were told that they had already run through their supply for the weekend. It turns out that “bacon buns” are basically dinner rolls stuffed with bits of bacon. Sounds enticing, but after all that kugelis and sausage our guts were considerably busted, so it was just as well that bacon buns weren’t on offer.

Though Gina tempted us with an apple pie that was fresh from the oven, we were at capacity.

And in case you were wondering, I did, of course, take a moment to check out the amber collection before we rolled on out of there.

Check out Healthy Food Lithuanian Restaurant:
3236 S. Halsted St.
Chicago, IL
(312) 326-2724

-AC

Notes from Chicago: Wedding Food

A couple weekends ago, we attended a lavish wedding at The Four Seasons in Chicago. At a place like The Four Seasons, it's incumbent upon the party-giver to go all out and make the most of the location, and so the decorations, entertainment, and all the little details were first class, but the food took center stage (okay, the bride and groom did, but this is a food blog, okay?).

First of all, we love it when people theme the party food. In this case, everything was Chicago or Italian themed, even down to the hotel gift-baskets. When we arrived, an overflowing bag filled with Chicago treats, such as Mazel Toffee, Affy Tapples, and Wrigley's gum awaited us. AC was particularly freaking out over the caramel apples, as he told me before we left the airport that "I must have an Affy Tapple before we leave." Thank you, TA, for helping to fulfill a dream.

After a lovely nondenominational ceremony, guests filed into the foyer set up for cocktails and appetizers. But let's be honest here, these were not appetizers, these were Italian mini-meals. Three types of fresh handmade pastas (lobster ravioli, butternut squash ravioli, ricotta-stuffed gnocchi) were being served to salivating guests, many of whom returned for repeat visits (I'm looking in your direction RC, CC, etc.). Another station offered thin-crust pizza, the best of which was the carmelized onion and goat cheese pizza.

Unrelated to anything Italian was the unusual addition of a pretzel bar where the staff were slinging warm salted and unsalted pretzels with a choice of four different types of mustard. AC is a serious mustard enthusiast, so I was pleased to see him rushing over with a plate garnished with a dollop of all four.

Even after all of this consumption, it took every ounce of restraint I could muster to not continue sending AC back for more of everything. But we were sure that the dinner would be just as outstanding. Luckily, more surprises. Dinner featured an enormous chicken breast dredged in an herbed bread-crumb mixture, accompanied by sauteed seasonal vegetables and dauphinoise potatoes. It was a meal fit for two people (which is perfectly fine, because we each usually eat for two...each), and that's to say nothing of the ample bread display. The flatbread, pretzel bread, and mini-baguettes were delicious, and we made quick work of the flower-shaped pat of butter.

Most weddings feature a cake—this one was a two-in-one. Each slice featured moist chocolate layer cake on the top and banana layer cake on the bottom. Also placed on each table was a tiered tray of homemade Italian cookies, our favorite of which was the pignoli cookie—the perfect companion to the extra-strong cappuccino we ordered from the espresso bar.

At the end of the night, we were certain we had consumed our weight in food and beverage. And for that, we thank the As.

—AK

Notes from Chicago: Mr. Beef

AC and I were in the Windy City this past weekend for a most fabulous wedding at The Four Seasons. In fact, the food at the wedding alone is worth a post, and we'll certainly get to that. But it would be wrong and, frankly, impossible, for us to do a post about Chicago without talking about a couple of great indigenous finds during our short time there.

Sure, pizza and hot dogs are a no-brainer in Chi-town, but we decided, ultimately, that we need to do two things: 1. have Italian beef at Mr. Beef (Jay Leno's favorite) and 2. find at least one wacky (preferably ethnic) thing that we've previously been missing from our culinary repertoire. And, folks, we did both. I will regale you with our beef tale, while AC will discuss the finer points of Lithuanian cuisine in a future post. Here goes:

Fresh from unpacking, we immediately headed out to the bus that would take us to Orleans Street, where the famed Mr. Beef is located. A small, old-timey, oddly clean shack, Mr. Beef is a spare space with a long ledge for stand-up eating in the main area and an "elegant dining room" in the back. We went for the ledge, which turned out to be a great method for Italian beef, as this sandwich is the messiest thing I've ever had to manhandle in my life. One needs two hands and a lot of leverage to keep things under control.

Ordering our meal was a no-hassle experience. First, we knew what we wanted; no menu-reading necessary. "Two Italian beef, please," blurted AC. "Two beef...peppers?" "Yes." "Sweet or hot?" "Both...and lots of 'em," say us. "[In the direction of the sandwich assembler] Two beef, sweet hot peppers. "[To us] Fo' heah?" "Yes." Upon reflection, we couldn't believe taking these sandwiches to go was even an option, as it would clearly result in a cold mess at home. The sandwiches come swaddled in parchment, and upon unwrapping them, they ooze jus, peppers and jardiniere fall everywhere, and the meat—tender, thinly sliced, and powerfully delicious—just doesn't want to stay in the baguette. In other words, eating this thing is about as dainty of an undertaking as it is to mow down a turkey leg at a Renaissance faire.

But even though we were up to a napkin-to-bite ratio of 1:1, indulging in the Italian beef experience was one of the most satisfying fast-food adventures there is. The soaked bread meshes with the thin slices of beef delightfully, while a crunch of celery and a sliver of roasted red pepper sneak in every now and then. Mostly, though, it's a lot of meat—lean, plentiful and juicy. Another surprise is that they don't overfeed you at Mr. Beef. Though it seemed like a lot of food at first glance, we didn't find ourselves lumbering back to our hotel with heartburn; the beef gave us ample fuel for our walking tour of Wicker Park.

Notes on atmosphere: Like many celebrated, classic fast-food joints, Mr. Beef has the requisite wall of fame with the likes of Jay Leno (oddly pictured with about half a dozen other celebs he must have run into while picking up some beef), Robert de Niro, Siskel and Ebert, a few obscure rock bands, and some oddities like Laurie Metcalf from "Roseanne" fame and news anchor Lester Holt, who, in his picture, was sporting a hilarious stache. Laughing and pointing at the wall is a great way to pass the time while constantly keeping the jus from running down your chin.

Get yourself to Mr. Beef at:

666 N Orleans Street
Chicago, Illinois
(312) 337-8500

—AK

A New Tradition: Brunch and a Movie

KK and I accidentally started a tradition a few weeks ago. After having a tremendous brunch at Tallula, we decided a natural follow-up activity would be to see a movie. We both had heard the positive buzz about  “Little Miss Sunshine,” so we looked into it. The stars and planets clearly were aligned that day, as there was a showing just up the road from Washington Blvd., in Shirlington, the indie movie theater of choice in Northern Virginia. This was such an enjoyable pairing of activities that we decided to make it a regular occurrence. Here are a few highlights from our first brunch and a movie outing:

Brunch Highlights:
•The Eggs Benedict, prepared with bresoala ham, a fried green tomato in lieu of English muffin, and topped with jalapeño hollandaise. It actually took me a few bites to fully realize there was no bread element to the dish. 
•The side dish of biscuits and gravy. Yes, they offer B&G as a SIDE—what a fantastic idea. Because really, there are just times we’d like a little bit of something decadent, not a platter full of grease and gravy (then again, sometimes we do want that). The light, but creamy, gravy was made with pancetta, and the biscuit was appropriately soft and crumbly.

Movie Highlight:
•Steve Carell—when the guy actually takes a break from his frat-boy scripts (that’s not to say I didn’t love “40-year-old Virgin”), he really shows the range he has as an actor. I don’t profess to know much about the “art” of film or acting, but I do know when a movie just works. The movie was funny, appropriately heart-warming without being sappy, and a little bit dark and sad.

Enjoy Tallula at:
2761 Washington Boulevard
Arlington, Virginia