Stuff I miss, Part 1, Chili's Chicken Crispers

This'll be the start the regular feature where I bemoan the loss or changes made to a particularly beloved comestible.

Today, I begin with Chili's Chicken Crispers. I eat at Chili's, you ask? Well, yes. If you date or, ahem, marry a Navajo, you'll be spending a significant amount of time in Chili's and Applebees. Why? Because the closest towns where there is a restaurant will be places like Farmington and Gallup. Not a wide array of gastronomic choice.

In fact, I once told my Sweetie that I was planning to surprise her by driving to Farmington. She asked, quite smartly, "How would you find me without tipping me off?"

The answer? "I'd go to Chili's and wait." Ha!

So yes, I've spent my time in Chili's. And my favorite dish were their chicken Crispers. Big, meaty planks of chicken. Battered in some sort of light, corn-doggy sensation. Super-hot. Super moist. Like biting a hot batter and chicken bubble. So good, it's hard to believe they ever existed.

And it's even harder now.

Chili's revamped their menu about a year ago or so. I'm sure it was some consultant's bone-headed cost-saving measure. And glory be, they messed with my Crispers. Sob. You bastards!

They're about half the size they used to be. And they're tough. And chewy. To be blunt, they suck. I actually complained the last time I was there. And the manager was very sympathetic. He even agreed with me and comped the meal.

But I haven't been back. I know I'd be tempted to try again. And my fragile ego can't take that sort of disappointment.

Chinese food in Tucson (Or the lack thereof)

This was going to be a review of a local Chinese place. A bad review. A head-scratching review. But a review like that just wouldn't be fair. Why?

Because anything bad I say about this particular restaurant is the same thing I can say about every Chinese restaurant in Tucson. That is, it's not good. Not close to good. So why single this one out for the faults of the entire lot?

It's not like Tucson doesn't have a large and vibrant Chinese community. It does. And it's not like Tucson doesn't do Asian cuisine well. It does. I can point you to many fine Vietnamese, Korean, Japanese and Thai restaurants. But embarrassingly, whenever someone asks for good Chinese food, I usually aim them toward Pei Wei. And that's just sad.

Here's what I would like. One restaurant that would abide by the following:

1. No more golf ball sized hunks of meat shellacked with chewy, tasteless batter.

2. No more sauce with a corn syrup base. Please.

2. a. No more of that bright red sauce. Whatever that is. It's unnatural.

3. No more restaurants that attempt to recreate the food of the entire Chinese nation. Come on guys! Would someone eat at a Tex-Mex, American Italian, cheesesteak shop? Well, probably, but I don't want to. And I'm tired of walking into a supposedly Szechuan place and finding a page of Chow Mein on the menu. Which, by the way, is about as Chinese as macaroni and cheese is Italian.

4. No more buffets.

5. No more cold crab puffs. I know these aren't authentic. But when they're made with actual crab and they're actually hot, they're really good. Cold, they're a major disappointment.

6. No more buffets.

7. If it ain't really hot, don't label it as hot. I live in the Southwest. I'm used to chilies. If I order it hot, I expect it to clear my sinuses.

8. Actually cook regional, authentic Chinese food using fresh ingredients. This isn't 1955. American palates have grown beyond meatloaf and lo mein. We're ready for the real stuff. How do I know? I grew up in Philadelphia. I have some experience with Chinese food. I don't know if what I had is "real" Chinese food anymore than I don't know if a chicken burrito is "real" Mexican food. But I know when a restaurant is condescending to me, saying, "You couldn't handle the real stuff, so here's some crap we doused in sticky orange sauce." Don't do that. I'm ready. I promise.

Here's a great example of number 8. The wife and I stopped at a local joint for some dinner a few weeks ago. Shining in the center of all the soggy onions, tasteless shrimp and gallons of duck sauce was a pile of bright slaw; two or three shades of cabbage, some ground peanuts and a light garlicky, peppery dressing. The highpoint of the meal. And come to find out after talking to the owner, the only freshly prepared, authentic recipe on the table. He looked completely baffled that I liked it.

Looking around that place I saw a few, obvious regulars, grimly holding on to something that probably never was. I saw the owner's wife who looked like she might burst into tears at any moment. And I saw an owner who just couldn't figure out where the customers went.

They're down the street, seated on the floor, eating bool gogi. They're around the corner, squirting Sriracha into a hot bowl of pho. They're across town, quietly munching seared tofu off a plate of pad thai.

They're not going back to eating a plate of chicken as sweet as any breakfast cereal. And if you don't take the hint, they ain't coming back to your restaurant. Not ever.

I know I'm not.

Cafe a la C'Art, Tucson Museum of Art

Cafe a la C'Art is a true Tucson pleasure. Nestled amongst the concrete arms of the Tucson Museum of Art, Cafe a la C'Art has served Tucson's business community delicious lunchtime fare for many a year now.

But the secret pleasure of Cafe a la C'Art is the chance to eat lunch backwards.

Cafe is half service. You order at a counter, pick up your drink, sit at a table with a number and wait for a server to bring your food. Simple enough. Simple enough if it weren't for the six feet of ridiculous desserts you must walk by to order your food.

Piles of chocolate cake buried in frosting. Tarts. More tarts. Cookies. Whatever your brand of "Death By _______," you'll find it here. It's hard to get by without rationalizing a purchase. You know, "I'll have half and eat half later. I'll bring some home for my wife." Sure thing, pal. But then, after you order your food and sit down, there you are. Hungry. At your table. Waiting for your food. With a cookie staring you right in the face. And not just a cookie. A ridiculous cookie, more walnut and chocolate bar than pastry. What to do?

A quick glance around the room will tell you. Eat the cookie. This is probably the only place in Tucson you'll see adults eating dessert before dinner. It's a relaxing moment. An indulgent moment. Especially in the midst of a workday.

The cookie? I couldn't stop eating it. And I actually went off on a weird sugar high for a few minutes. Have you ever looked at your hands? I mean really looked at your hands?

The actual food? They hit all the notes a successful cafe should. Straight-forward food served without pretension in a style that might only be described as dashing. Hanker for a hearty salad? Covered. A burger that's not an embarrassment to be seen eating? Ditto. A nice soup. That's here too. And a salmon or brisket sandwich that satisfies.

There's a lot to be said for consistency. Consistent food is a fine thing. To consistently offer not only a meal, but a moment, is a great thing. Cafe a la C'Art delivers that.

The Real Deal

I like to cook. A lot. And while I do like to make elaborate dishes that take all day to mince and strain and whatever, I also like to cook good, honest food. And that's what this cookbook is about.

This is puro New Mexican cooking. Heavy on the chile. Rick Bayless can show you how to make a more authentic mole. Diane Kennedy will send you on a search for banana leaves. This book will teach you to make a deep red sauce you can have on hand daily.

And these basic recipes will give the confidence to reach outside their bounds, to go into a market, see what meat is on sale and think, "Geez, that'll go great with that green chile sauce I have left over."

So whether you have a hankering for mutton stew (and that happens around our house) or you want to lear how to fold a burrito (yes gabacho, you fold a burrito) this is the book for you.

McDouble

As I'm sure you all know, McDonald's replaced the double cheeseburger on the dollar menu with a new sandwich called the McDouble. The difference? The McDouble has one slice of cheese. Not two.

I admit I was very worried about this. I like the double cheeseburger. I like that it was a dollar. Somehow, the low price made me feel like it wasn't really all that bad for me. I know, but it's my delusion, ok?

So it was with some trepidation that I tried the McDouble. And you know what? It isn't that bad. So relax.

World Sports Grille, Foothills Mall

When this place opened, a friend said to me, 'Tucson needs a place like this." What she meant was that Tucson needed a place where parents could take their school-age children and hang out for an afternoon. Kids get video games and whatever esle it is they do while I watch the game. Parents get beer and a couch. World Sports Grille is sort of on the Dave & Buster's vibe, lots of video games, lots of big screen tvs, good beer on tap, plenty of salted, fried food. Tucson does need a place like that. World Sports Grille just isn't it.

It looks promising. The layout of the place is well thought out. There are quiet areas where you can sit and chat, and communal clusters of seats scattered about. There are a lot of video games for the kids, huge tvs for the big kids (including a 103 incher) and somehow, although the place is usually pretty crowded, it never gets too loud to talk.

The service is, well, ok. Most of the time, though competent, the servers seem a bit overwhelmed. But the food and drinks come out relatively quickly.

It's the food that's the disaster.

I like bar food. I like fries, I like sandwiches, I like a big sloppy burger. What I don't like is walking into a bar and being handed a ten page menu. That's a sure sign of trouble.

A bar shouldn't try to be something it isn't. Case in point: World Sports Grille has an entire page of their menu devoted to tangine meals. That's right. A sports bar is bringing Morroccan clay oven cooking to Raiders' fans everywhere. Mistake.

That signal telegraphs a confused kitchen. People don't want to be challenged by bar food. They don't want to expand their horizons. They want tastes they know. Who the hell comes to a bar to eat pepper steak or fettucine? Apparently the owners think we do. They're very very wrong about that. So wrong, I have to wonder if they've ever actually been in a bar. In any case, if you are in any restaurant that hands you a menu of that size, alarm bells should go off. Freaking Eric Ripert couldn't master a menu that size.

But worried or not, we were hungry. First, we ordered a sampler platter of appetizers. That should be nice and safe, right? It also should give you an idea of what the kitchen thinks it does well.

Apparently, what this kitchen does well is cold fried food. But it's potato skins and egg rolls and chicken wings, right? Even lukewarm, that's still going to be good, right? Wrong. Man, are you wrong.

Memo to World Sports Grille. Potato skins should have cheese, bacon and chives on them. Or at least something edible. Not chewy precooked chicken and chopped black olives. Black olives? Really, guys? I almost ate one just to see if it tasted as bad as it looked. Instead, I had my wife try one. I'm still on the couch.

The best thing were the chicken wings. Relatively moist, relatively flavorful. Full of hope, we asked for two full orders for the table, one regular heat, one three-alarm. The three-alarm arrived with dire predictions from the wait staff that we were in for a thorough palate-scorching.

The three-alarm wings turned out to be regular chicken wings rolled in red pepper flakes. And they weren't hot. Not at all. They were bland. Very bland.

World Sport Grille feels like a place that started as a good idea. Big tvs. Video games. Couches. Good grub. But then, somewhere in the middle of development, someone who knows very, very little about restaurants, sports or bars took over. And that person is still running things.

It's the details that make the difference in a restaurant. As a customer, you want to feel like someone is paying attention, that somewhere, there is a hand on the tiller. Because, take it from me, you don't want to see the walk-in frig in a place where noone is paying particular attention. And World Sports Grille has that vibe. For example, a couple of my friends like to drink Corona. I know, but they're good people. Really.

Anyway, what comes with your Corona? Right, a lime to squeeze into the beer. A little wedge of lime. Not a quarter of a lime that no person could possibly fit into a bottle. It's a sad sight to watch a grown woman try to slice a wedge of lime with a table knife. But that's the salient image from our visit there.

World Sports Grille is a pretty good idea. Hopefully, before too long, someone who knows something about restaurants will buy it.