Pancakes Double Takes

Although I talk up my love for Pakistani and Yemeni delights, I must disclose that since returning to Northern Virginia nearly four years ago I’ve rediscovered my passion for yuppie comfort food- particularly the mostly dependable creations churned out by the kitchens of the Great American Restaurants Group and its burgeoning tribute chain, the Neighborhood Restaurant Group. Because the dinners at most of these joints moderately exceed what we’re willing to throw down to make pigs of ourselves, we take advantage of the relative good values found on their lunch and brunch menus. And lately I’ve found myself regularly jonesing for the pancakes at the Neighborhood Restaurant Group’s Vermilion.

The pancakes pictured here were, until recently, responsible for my regular Saturday afternoon couchings as the only physical activity that I could muster after consuming them was reclining and self-loathing. These pancakes were the fullest realization of the term “pancake”- their griddle-crisp (almost crunchy) exteriors sandwiching a nearly inch thick moist buttermilk cake. And the plump dried cranberries that they used were no mere Craisins, which a lesser kitchen might deploy without anyone noticing the difference.

A few weeks ago, the Neighborhood Restaurant Group managed to lure chef Anthony Chittum away from D.C.’s Notti Bianche to man the kitchen at Vermilion. As a result, the menu has undergone a makeover over the past couple weeks, forcing our poor waitress to struggle with quickly learning such esoteric terms as “malfatti” and “velote”.

Thankfully, the $7 brunch pancakes survived the menu purge that typically comes with a change in chefs. And though they are totally different from the former pancakes that shall remain (in my mind at least) the definitive pancakes, they are still pretty damn good.

Chittum has replaced the buttermilk pancakes with cornmeal griddle cakes that come with a side of whipped buttermilk in lieu of butter. These cornmeal pancakes are a more manageable scale than their blanket-sized predecessors, as I can easily put away a four stack and not hate myself for the rest of the afternoon. The mild tang of the whipped buttermilk works well against the rich earthiness of the cornmeal pancakes. And the pancakes themselves are thin, moist and dense.

The bacon at Vermilion is excellent, but it’s worth trying their Italian breakfast sausage, which will make you realize what an abomination breakfast sausage is at pretty much every other restaurant. It’s a fat, well-spiced link with a snappy casing that they specially order from a butcher in Baltimore.

Though the Vermilion website suggests that brunch is only served on Sunday, it's also available on Saturday. And late risers can shuffle into Vermilion for brunch until 3 p.m.:

Vermilion Restaurant
1120 King Street
Alexandria, VA 22314
(703) 684-9669

—AC

The Cheese More People Choose

A recent business trip took me to a small town in Wisconsin this past weekend. When I think of Wisconsin, two things come to mind: 1. It’s cold there this time of year. And 2. Supposedly they make good cheese.

Both were true. We landed in a Madison to a winter wonderland of snow and cold. Also, there were signs and stores boasting delicious cheeses everywhere. Everywhere.

But after two days of meetings and seminars, it seemed time escaped us much too quickly. There was simply no time to explore the wintry environs of the Wisconsin Dells and take in the local culture and food (save for all the meat you can eat there).

But our sadness at a lost opportuity faded when we saw an enormous billboard on the way back to the airport boasting great Wisconsin cheese and sausages. We exited at the required location and pulled up to Ehlenbach's Cheese Chalet, a purveyor of local food and the requisite Wisconsin gifts (think overpriced plastic cheeseheads and sausages shaped and packaged like bottles of Milwaukee’s Best). The best thing about this chalet, which bears the appearance of a Bavarian shack, was that it welcomes visitors with an enormous fiberglass dairy cow outside the shop. We like that kind of stuff.

From experience, I’ve learned these types of places usually have great homegrown goods in addition to whatever their signature item is. In this case, many varieties of homemade jams were on sale, as well as some Door County (known for its cherries) favorites, such as cherry salsa, which is made with the county's best sour and sweet cherries, onions, peppers, and other savories. I picked up a small jar of spicy pickled garlic, also a product of Door County. Whole cloves of garlic are married with jalapenos, red peppers, and vinegar. I was told this should be eaten straight, but I hope to find some way to work it into a salad dressing or a pasta dish.

On to the cheese: The variety was almost too much to handle. You know how deciding on one or two things from a Chinese restaurant menu can be completely daunting? I had the same problem here. There were so much to choose from. You had the basic cheeses—cheddar, havarti, aged homegrown varieties. Then there were fruity and chocolate cheeses, and others with various flavores and added elements. I wanted to go for something simple so I could truly enjoy the creaminess and flavor of the cheese. I went for a half pound of the Wisconsin havarti. Adjacent to the cheese counter was an ample selection of cured meats, and in this case it was their award-winning peppery hard salami that caught my eye. I got a half pound.

AC’s facial expression alone told me I had made the right choices. The sausage was indeed hard, but peppery and chewy. And the cheese was unbelievably fresh and creamy. Though havarti is a mild cheese, it had enough flavor and punch to marry nicely with the spicy sausage.

If you’re in the Madison, Wisc. area, check out Ehlenbach’s at:

4879 County Road V
Junction V & I-90-94 (Exit 126)
DeForest, WI 53532
(608) 846-4791

Or order it online at:
www.ehlenbachscheese.com

—AKC

'Soft-Eating'

Real meals are hard to come by when you’re going to be in the air and at airports for a combined 15 hours. I usually bring individually wrapped healthy snacks like Luna Bars or something, but there’s a point at which eating another “Nutz Over Chocolate” will become a self-fullfilling prophecy.

I was recently in Spain for a work event, and on my way home, one of my colleagues and traveling companions presented me with a bag of Black Opal Real Australian Soft Eating Raspberry Licorice, which, oddly enough, his wife had procured at a suburban Target. Usually I’m not one to jump at the opportunity to eat licorice, but I noticed the descriptor “soft eating,” and thought, “hey, I like Starburst and other so-called soft-eating candies,” and with that, I went for it. Also, I hadn’t previously been aware of the candy-making genius of the Australians, and I was curious.

Ultimately, I ate most of the bag. But the point is Black Opal makes one of the most delightful chewy candies on the market. These “rods”—industry term—of candy are so soft and rich with raspberry flavor that the licorice taste, which I don’t like, is rendered almost nonexistent. And for the health conscious among us, they’re kind of good for you: no animal products, very little fat, and some natural stuff.

After I ate the last piece, I stashed the bag in my carry-on so I could share this revelation with AC, who I knew would flip for the soft-eating licorice just as much as I did. How nice of my coworker to allow me to retain possession of a piece of his trash!

And if the product itself isn’t amazing enough, the packaging is first rate. I love it when companies write their big opus on the back of a bag or box. A choice selection from Black Opal is “Whether it’s koalas, crocs, kangaroos or the Great Barrier Reef, Australia is where adventure awaits! … Soft, smooth, and bursting with flavor, this licorice is sure to please even the most sophisticated palate.”

Finding the stuff in my neighborhood was impossible, and after downing 10 rods in just a few minutes on a transatlantic flight, I was experiencing withdrawal symptoms. As is typical, the employees at my local Target were clueless. So I resorted to the Internet—the perfect tool for weird imported goods.

The first thing I found was a $50 bag of five-inch rods. I gave more than a minute’s thought to actually buying this, but AC reasoned that perhaps a big bag wouldn’t stay as fresh and several small bags would serve us better. I agreed.

Ultimately, I came across Licorice International, a site run by a major licorice enthusiast based in the Midwest. The good people of LI not only sent my product to me superfast, but they also included some free samples of Kookaburra Licorice, another Australian licorice purveyor (who knew?). I brought some Black Opal to work to share with friends, one of whom is Australian, who remarked, "Cool—I would have no idea how to get my hands on this stuff here!" So in addition to some tasty candy, I scored some street cred as well. Time to get yours.

For your stash of soft-eating Australian licorice from Black Opal, follow this link.

—AKC

Staff Infection

There are times when the food and ambience are secondary and tertiary in a restaurant experience. And our dinner at Comet Ping Pong was exactly one of those times. Though we enjoyed the pizza and the ambience was funky enough to be interesting, the staff was out of The Twilight Zone.

The erratic behavior, total lack of decorum, and excess of hipster attitude and aesthetic, was profoundly unbecoming. But the weirdness was so pervasive and unwavering, it became amusing in a "Tony and Tina's Wedding" sort of way, like we were about to be dragged into some interactive theater nonsense where misanthropic hipsters attack the general public with their powers of rudeness and insanity.

We actually began to believe that what we saw as shortcomings might have actually been part and parcel of Comet's mission—to alienate and confuse patrons, which would be entirely consistent with owner Carole Greenwood's well-documented abuse of patrons at her other restaurant, Buck's Fishing and Camping. So to illustrate what we believe to be intrinsically bizarro about Comet Ping Pong, we have created a Staff Manual/Code of Conduct that accurately represents what we experienced this past weekend at Comet Ping Pong.

I. Hostess Behavior

A. Arriving Guests

1. Under no circumstances will you greet patrons politely. "Hello, how are you this evening," for example, is unacceptable. Hostesses must ensure all diners feel alien in their environment from the moment they walk in until the moment they leave the establishment.

2. If a patron is waiting on other members of his/her party, take pains to make sure he/she does not take up valuable space in the booth for more than 30 seconds. If he/she is still waiting after 30 seconds, get up in patron's grill and ask several probing and inappropriate questions until said patron feels awkward and uncomfortable. [Our friend, KC, was asked "are your friends really coming?" Check in with KC's blog for her forthcoming relation of the experience.]

If patron seems unfazed by the onslaught, ignore said patron and glare in his/her direction occasionally. If and when the remainder of the party shows up, be sure to treat them like second-class citizens. [Our hostess greeted us not by saying, "Good evening," but rather "Oh, she's been waiting for you for a while." Editor's note: KC was there for eight minutes, and she was early, a fact that she shared with the hostess.]

B. Leaving Guests

1. Servers, the guests are leaving! Under no circumstances will you say "thank you" or "have a good evening" or anything else that suggests that you would like them to return. [Apparently making eye contact with the hostess on your way out doesn't garner you a "thank you" of any sort.]

II. Server Behavior

A. Describing the Menu

1. The average person cannot read a menu, especially one as painfully simple as ours, therefore you must read it to them. But do not rehearse or memorize the menu; your delivery should be slow, dim-witted, and should reflect exactly what the patrons see in front of them. ["We also have salads, two salads, one's a house salad, and one's a Caesar salad."]

2.  Add detail about the pizzas at your peril. The only detail you are authorized to share with diners is that the pizzas are "rich in flavor." We are nothing if not a pizzeria that delivers small, asymmetrical pizzas that are rich in flavor. RICH IN FLAVOR. [Our server's ad libbing included an apologetic monologue about how the pizzas are "not that filling" but that "we have a lot of pizzas, and they're all rich in flavor."]

B. Periodically Checking in on Diners

1. Do not do this.

III. Food & Beverage Preparation and Price

A. All pizzas should be small and delivered on large cookie sheets to underscore their "smallness."

B. Prices of pizzas and salads should far exceed their worth.

C. Wine glasses should actually be small orange juice glasses. Charge at least $3 per fluid ounce for fair to middling wine. [It's also worth noting that the year and vineyard of the wine is presented on the menu in 3-point type, rendering the text almost completely unreadable].

Stay tuned for AC's evaluation of the actual food and ambience.

—AK

The Silence is Broken

Hello dear readers,

We apologize for the inconsistent posting over the past few months. Our silence should not be interpreted as lagging interest and consumption of delicious (and sometimes questionable) food. We have been chewing and swallowing away and have much to share with you in the coming weeks. So stay tuned for more content, and thank you for bearing with us.

—AK & AC

Quite Foul: A Story of Weird Service

Great service is rewarded by generous tips, genuine “thank yous” and smiles. Bad service can certainly ruin a dining experience. And most of the time, we hope, service is forgettable—you get our food in a timely fashion, you have a pleasurable experience, and that is that. But then there are times when there’s no designation for the kind of service you get. I had one such experience in the DC area.

I was with a group of friends, and our waitress, seemingly peppy and friendly, began a silent commentary on some of the items we were ordering. For example, I ordered sweet tea (forgetting they only served the regular brew), and she responded NOT by saying “I’m sorry, we don’t serve sweet tea, but we have natural and artificial sweeteners for your convenience.” Instead she nodded “no” in quick, nervous shakes. I, looking at her askance, said, “oookay, I’ll take regular.”

When she returned to take our orders, I inquired about the beet and potato soup they were offering as a special. I asked, “Is this a cream-based soup?”
She said, in a very hyper “Gilmore Girls” fast-talking kind of way: “Oh, well, usually we try the soup, but today we were afraid.”

Me: “Okay.” [Soup base aside, I’ve obviously already decided I’m not ordering the soup.]

Her: “I’m going to go ask the chef.”

So before taking any other orders, she dashed off to the kitchen to do some forensics on the soup. She came back and said “It’s kind of creamy, but kind of not. But, actually, it looks really good.”

Me [not falling for this obvious act of back-pedaling]: “Okay, thanks. But first I’d like to know why you were afraid to try the soup today.”

Her: “Oh, well, you see, yesterday, the chef made this soup from Peruvian potatoes, and it was purple! And, well, it was quite foul.”

Me: “Foul, okay.”

Her: “But today’s soup looks really good.”

Me: “I’ll skip the soup,” and I placed my order.

Later when we were ordering dessert, she reprised her nervous shaking syndrome when one of our friends ordered a particular dessert. “Oookay,” he said “I’ll have the pie instead.”

Laughing at the experience, we all agreed honesty is valued from a waiter, but that there’s a classier way of saying “quite foul” when you’re trying to steer guests toward something they might like better. Still, our meal was pleasant, and we enjoyed ourselves. And if nothing else, this case of bizarre service was fodder for good cocktail conversation. So, I suggest you pull up a chair, pour a glass, and tell us about a weird experience of your own.

—AK

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