tucson food blog

Review-Jonathan's Cork, Tanque Verde and Pima

2011-11-15T17:00:00.000-08:00

I get no pleasure from writing a negative review. That’s why there are so few of them on this blog. Part of that’s because the internet already has enough snark. Part of that’s because of my own experience.

Working in restaurants is hard. It’s hard to cook. It’s hard to wait tables. It’s HARD.

But what isn’t? I’m a lawyer by day. That’s hard. My wife is a lawyer AND she’s my wife. Talk about hard. If work was fun, they wouldn’t pay you. The fact that your job is hard is not an excuse to do it poorly.

I’ve had bad meals that didn’t upset me. If I pay a teenager a dollar for a McDouble, I’m not expecting life-altering flavor. I’ve gotten overcooked burgers at Chili’s, indifferent spring rolls from Chinese takeout. It happens. It doesn’t alarm me.

But I don’t judge every restaurant on the same curve. If I have to speak into a plaster clown mouth to order my food, I grade on one curve. If I have to sit at a linen tablecloth and speak some French, I grade on another. Why? Because when the price is higher, so are the expectations.

An example. At Ghini’s Café, they market Eggs Provencale as their specialty. A bold claim. An implied promise of exceptional food. I’ve had it many times. It is exceptional food. And for what is, essentially, two eggs on toast, it is expensive. So expectations were correspondingly high. http://www.ghiniscafe.com/page.cfm/menus/breakfast But the first time I ordered it, the poached eggs were overcooked. Not what I was led to expect. A profound disappointment.

What happened next, however, was not. I noted the overcooked eggs to my server. He frowned, apologized, and whisked them away. Before he entered the kitchen, he showed them to the owner. She touched the eggs and frowned, glancing in our direction. Minutes later, my breakfast rearrived. Perfectly done. Another minute, the owner arrived. She apologized. She inquired after my eggs. She was very pleasant.

When the time came to pay the bill, the meal had been comped. Not just mine. Mine, my wife’s, and our daughter’s. With nothing said, the restaurant left the lingering impression that what had happened was a shocking anomaly that deeply disturbed them. Unspoken was the implication that this was a singular event, a humiliation that they would not stand for. Message received. Have I been back? Indeed. Many times.

Why did they go so far out of their way for me? I was not a regular. I carry no weight in the restaurant world. They could have offended me without cognizable consequence. But they didn’t. Why? Because they understand the crucial secret of the restaurant industry.

I am not a professional food writer. I am not paid to critique your restaurant. I will not be coming back, on multiple occasions, to see if you can eventually get it right. You get one chance. Is that fair. Oh indeed. Quite fair. Why? Well what does my offer of one chance make me?

The average patron.

I experience restaurants as any real customer would. And the average customer will give you exactly one chance to get it right.

And then they will go down the street.

Jonathan’s Cork is about a block from my house. I ate there last about three or four years ago. In the bar. I had a piece of salmon. It was all right.

My wife and I were childless last Friday. This is rare. We wanted to eat at a place that doesn’t offer crayons or a kid’s menu. Jonathan’s seemed just the thing. If it worked out, it’s close enough that we could be regulars. I am aware that I am the demographic restaurants like this pursue. Young. (Sort of.) Professional. (In a sense.) Will spend money on a good meal. (Definitely.) What restaurant wouldn’t want us as regulars?

Jonathan’s décor is outdated and embarrassingly “eclectic.” The walls are covered with random art that is “Southwesterny” and “Indianish.” I’ll admit it. My wife is Navajo. The casual disregard for her culture in a restaurant with fine dining pretense is alarming. And makes us uncomfortable. But whatever. We’ll live with it if the food is good. The furniture is substandard. The floors are carpeted. The walls are paneled and white. The atmosphere is essentially non-existent. Jonathan’s won’t win you with ambience. That puts pressure on both the food and service.

Jonathan’s menu is, to be blunt, expensive. These are unapologetic prices. If my wife and I had paid for our entire meal, without wine the bill would have been a Benjamin and a half. That doesn’t leave room for error. Prices like that are a promise and an assurance. The finest ingredients. Expertly prepared. Perfect. Just the thing. We couldn’t wait.

The restaurant was about a third full. We were eventually seated. We then waited. And waited. And waited. Eventually a smiling waitress took our drink order. Then we waited.

And waited.

Eventually we ordered our meal, including a Caesar salad to split and a crabcake appetizer. My wife ordered the surf and turf special; lobster tail and filet. I ordered the lamb chops. Rare.

Then we waited some more. Eventually a basket of bread arrived. Not fresh, hot rolls. Not homemade bread. Not locally sourced, great bread. Nope. Not for us. Sliced, store bought bread. That was a surprise. Not a good one.

Eventually the crab cakes arrived. They were good. A bit fishy. But pretty good. I would order them again.

The Caesar salad arrived. It was not good. Store bought, bagged croutons. Pre-grated, bagged parmesan. You know, the pointed, uniform slivers of cheese? A dressing that was way too vinegary without the faintest hint of promised anchovy and garlic. A terrible salad given the price and promise. Sadly, a portent of what would eventually come.

At this point, we had spent over an uncomfortable hour in the restaurant. For an establishment nowhere near full to capacity, the staff seemed stressed and overwhelmed. They rushed about with nothing in their hands. There was no apparent reason for the delay in the arrival for our food, nor was one offered.

Finally, our waitress appeared, apologetic, and told us that the kitchen had overcooked my wife’s filet and was firing another. Well and good. As we learned later, the platter cost forty-three dollars. For that price, by all means, take a stab at getting it right.

My food arrived soon after. With the wrong side dish. I sent it back. It came back. I cut into my lamb chop. Remember I had ordered it rare. The list price on the chop is twenty-eight dollars. The chop was beyond well done. Totally inedible. I called the waitress over. She asked if I’d like them to fire another. I asked if it would take another forty minutes. She said she wasn’t sure. I told her not to bother and asked her to remove it from the bill.

Five minutes or so later, my wife’s food arrived. Her filet was significantly under-cooked. Her lobster tail was small, and abundantly overcooked. We ate it anyway. Why? Because after almost an hour and a half, we were hungry. And all I wanted to do at that point was get out.

Some time after we finished, we were able to flag down a waitress and retrieve our check. About the same time, the harried manager arrived and bluntly inquired if my lamb had been overcooked. I stated that it had been. He perfunctorily inquired if we wanted something else. I politely declined. He left. Without apology or explanation.

Our bill was in excess of seventy dollars. Without the lamb. With tip, we paid eighty-five. Between the arrival of the check and our departure, the chef/owner arrived in the dining room. Without so much as a glance for us, he planted himself at the table next door and bellowed gregariously for the remainder of our meal. He paid absolutely no attention to us. He spoke in a volume reserved for sea captains and drill sergeants and seemed deadly intent upon ruining whatever remnant of a good time we had experienced. At the very least, his complete disregard for our dining experience was commensurate with his attention to the cooking of our meal.

On the way out I passed the manager as he expedited by the kitchen. I mentioned that the evening had been “truly subpar.” He actually shrugged. He stated that he’d offered alternative food. The implication being, what else could he possibly do?

Fair enough.

The evening wasn’t a total loss. We stopped by Frost on the way home and had some gelato. We were treated with respect and courtesy and delivered a product well worth what we paid for it.

Tucson’s food landscape is changing. We have any number of dining options. A number of classic restaurants from our past hang on. Some in triumph, see Janos. Some simply deliver what they always have, see Pico de Gallo. And Pat’s Chili Dogs.

I had a friend in high school named Ray. And Ray used to say that a man’s honor was like his virginity. You only got to lose it once. But unlike your virginity, once you lost your honor, you lost everything.

One of my favorite places in Tucson was Ye Olde Lantern, a steakhouse on Stone. As the neighborhood decayed and the downtown nightlife faded, the Lantern held on. Eventually the owner died. And the restaurant went with him.

No matter what else happened, in good times or bad, the Lantern did what it did. As best it could. It wasn’t cheap. And it didn’t compromise. Not on service. Not on food. It didn’t matter if you were a regular. Or an out of towner. Your tiny meatballs arrived sizzling on a cast iron platter. The salad bar was outrageous. The steaks were perfectly prepared and the baked potatos creakingly loaded. When they finally went out, they went out with honor. And I’ll always remember that. And I’ll always respect it. And if it reopened tomorrow, I’d be first in line.

Jonathan’s Cork is headed in the same direction as Ye Olde Lantern. For very different reasons. And when it goes, it’ll go without honor. Apparently it lost that a long time ago. And with their honor went everything else.

Recipe Corner-Green Chile Stew

2011-09-12T09:02:00.000-07:00

So there are a few things you should know how to make as a denizen of the Greater Southwest. Why? So when your relatives visit and want some "real Tucson food," you'll have something to do other than simply take them to whatever cheesy-bean establishment is less than a mile away.

This is a recipe that requires little to no naked cooking ability, other then the browning of meat and the stewing of everything else. It's a celebration of that wonderful late summer vegetable, the green chile. This is straightforward border home-cooking. Ready? Let's do it.

1. A great stew starts with meat. I use pork country ribs. These are not actually ribs, they're shoulder meat. That's what the bones are if you buy them bone-in. You should buy them bone in. Why? The bones add additional flavor, and are usually cheaper than the boneless. Why? Because a human has to cut the bones out. More human effort, pricier meat. Take a look at these.
Notice how much fat there is. That's called flavor. Now, if it's much fattier than this, you probably want to trim them. This marbling is about perfect. Not too much fat. These four ribs weigh about two pounds. Also perfect. Rinse them. Dry them. Why? Dried meat will sear better. Season liberally with kosher salt and pepper. Besides adding flavor, the salt will also dry out the surface a bit leading to, you guessed it, better sear.

2. Sear the meat. Use a heavy-bottomed dutch oven. This is my old Lodge five quart dutch oven. It is well-seasoned and older than any of my children. You can use an enameled dutch oven too. I would go with cast iron regardless. Why? It retains heat extremely well. It is not, however, extremely sensitive to changes in heat. That gives you time to correct if you've turned the heat up too high. Do not crowd the meat. With pieces of meat this size, you will need to cook in batches. Why? Because if the meat is too crowded, the oil will not stay hot enough to sear effectively, your meat will start sweating, release liquid, and the meat will steam instead of sear. Cook like so:

Put a tablespoon or so of plain vegetable oil in the bottom of the pan. Heat until just smoking over medium high heat. If you have lard, use that. I render my own lard. How? Easy. Ask your butcher for a pound of pig fat. Cook it in the oven until it renders. Cool it. If you don't make your own lard, I would avoid packaged lard. It sometimes has a bitter taste. I would also avoid olive oil, or any oil that has an assertive taste of its own. It will change the flavor of the stew.

When the oil is hot, add the meat. Avoid the temptation to move it around. We want to develop a brow crust. Again, that's flavor. Good stuff. There at the bottom of the pot. After five to seven minutes, flip the meat. It should look like this:

Doesn't that look good? Let the other side sit. Take the meat out. Repeat with the other pieces.

3. The green chile. Now, while you're cooking the meat, heat your broiler. Put the rack right up next to it. Take out your green chiles. Poke them with a fork a few times. Put them in a single layer on a rimmed baking sheet. Shove them under the broiler. For how long? Until they look like this:

Take them off with tongs. Put them in a plastic shopping bag. I prefer the ones from Target. They're a bit thicker than your grocery store bags. Tie the top of the bag shut. Put the whole thing aside for ten minutes.

When you open the bag and pour out the chiles, the skins will have loosened enough to peel them. Like so:
Run the chiles under the faucet. Rub the skins off. They should come off fairly easily. If you can't get it all off, don't sweat it. A lot of chile skin is annoying. A little will soften and disappear into the stew. Chop off the tops. Rinse out the seeds. The seeds will make the stew hotter. The flesh of the chiles will provide enough sharp heat. Too many seeds and you'll taste nothing but heat. Trust me. The stew will be plenty hot.

(If you want to short-circuit this step, you can buy bags of roasted and peeled green chile at Food City)

Chop the chile. Not too fine. Otherwise, it will disintegrate after an hour or so of stewing. About half an inch square is good.

4. Chop an onion. If you don't know how to chop an onion, email me. Seriously. There's a right and wrong way. Make the pieces relatively uniform.
Put a tablespoon or so of oil in the pan. Put the onions in. Salt them liberally. We want to draw some moisture out. Extra moisture in the stew will dilute the flavor we're looking for. Between the leftover pork fat in the pan and the oil, there should be enough to briskly cook the onions at around medium heat until they start to brown a bit and are starting to get translucent. At that point:

5. The baby will probably have gotten bored and will leave the kitchen:

6. That's the signal to add the chopped chile and a can of diced tomatoes:

I like fire-roasted diced tomatoes. The extra flavor from the roasting is no bullshit. I use Hunts or Muir Glen. Both go on sale frequently. When they do, I buy ten or so cans at a time. They're pantry staples. Into the pot they go. Stir. Let cook for a minute or two, again, to get the excess moisture out and preserve the structural integrity of the ingredients.

7. Now add the following. A container of chicken stock. Low sodium. Not because I'm a health nut. Because the regular sodium stock is waaaaayyyyy too salty.

I like Swanson's. I also like Costco's Organic chicken stock. Suit yourself. If you have a looonnnggg time to let the stew simmer, like all day, feel free to just use water. If you only have a few hours, the flavor boost of the chicken stock works better. Bring to a simmer with:

One minced chipotle pepper and a tablespoon of adobo sauce. You will be tempted to use more peppers and more sauce. Resist. You want smoky, background heat. Not burn your tongue aggressive heat. It's the green chile that we want to shine through here. You have been warned.

Two or three cloves of garlic, smashed with the flat of your knife. Not minced garlic. Not passed through a press. Again, we want a subtle flavor. Not a harsh one.
A tablespoon or so of Mexican oregano. Pour it into your palm. Rub your hands together over the pot. Do not use good old Italian oregano. The two are different plants with different flavors. You put a tablespoon of Italian oregano into this stew and it will taste like marinara sauce. Don't do it. If you can't find Mexican oregano, and you should be able to, it's in the supermarket next to the rest of what Albertson's calls "Hispanic Foods," skip it entirely. It won't make that much of a difference.

8. Simmer at a lazy bubble. For how long? Until the meat breaks down and can be cut with the side of a spoon. Probably at least two to two and half hours. About forty minutes from go time, add three good-sized white potatoes scrubbed, but skin on and chopped.
Why white potatoes? Not as starchy as russets. Won't fall apart under long boiling and won't noticeably thicken the stew. Why not peeled? The peels taste good, have vitamins in them and help the pieces hold together. Try to keep the pieces cut semi-uniformly. So they cook at the same rate. Add to the stew.

When you're done, you should have something that looks like this:9. Eat it. Careful before you add salt. The meat is salted. The onions are salted. The broth has a surprising amount of salt in it. Taste before you correct. I like a little cheese on top, cotija if you have it, a bit of shredded cheddar if you don't. Eat with tortillas. Maybe a bit of diced avocado. If you want it hotter, use Sriracha in a sensible fashion. Enjoy.

Poco & Mom's Review-22d and Kolb

2011-08-23T07:04:00.001-07:00

I can't say that the existence of this place will be a surprise to any of you. In the past few years, this Eastside eatery has developed a ferociously loyal clientele. They could easily seat twice the folks they have the actual room for at any given time. People feel blessed to be endowed with a bumpersticker and proudly slap it on their Prius' and pickups alike as a canary yellow badge of honor, the secret handshake announcing membership in a club one vainly hopes is exclusive.

Poco and Mom's fills a niche. They found a need. And they filled it. And they keep filling it. Over and over.

What is that need? New Mexican food. They do other things. But New Mexican cuisine is their thing. New Mexican food is their mission.

What is New Mexican cuisine? How does it differ from our Arizona border food? Braised meats instead of grilled. Carne adovada, pork slow simmered in red sauce. Green chile stew, pork lathered in scorching green chile. Two sacred sauces, the green and the red. Heavy reliance on the meat of the blessed pig. A spectrum of salsas, maybe more often stewed than chopped as is common in Border cuisine. Sopapillas; golden pillows of fried doughs. A vaguely Mexican cuisine that owes more to the New Mexico's numerous pueblos than Puebla. A cuisine that grew in a colder climate. A higher climate. An amalgam of Native, cowboy and pure home-cooking of local ingredients. I love this stuff.

I'm not claiming to be an expert in New Mexican cuisine. But my wife is from Shiprock. And business often calls from Albuquerque. Each and every trip, we make time for a pilgrimage to Rancho Chimayo. For the food. And Saltillo weaving. But mostly the carne adovada. When we trek to Phoenix, we go to Dick's Hideaway. For the grilled shrimp. But mostly the carne adovada. I'm devoted to this food.

I would suffer no pretenders.

Thankfully, Poco and Mom's, bare blocks from my home, satisfies a space within me that is precisely the size and shape of a roasted Hatch chile.

A good diner is a place to hang out, have a cup of coffee. It's a reliable spot for a harmless breakfast and lunch. A better diner is a place you will travel to for the food when other options are available. A great diner is a compulsion, a need, in and of itself. Consider.

About two weeks ago, I had a guacamole omelet at Poco's. That's three eggs, a big helping of homemade guacamole, scattered nuggets of bacon and a slice or two of swiss cheese. Was it good?

The next day I went back. And had another. That Saturday, I took my wife to Poco's. And had another.

Poco and Mom's is the truth. This is New Mexican soul food. The real deal. Made by people who know. I suggest you go there. Now.

A&M Pizza-Florence, Arizona

2011-08-08T10:53:00.000-07:00

I drive through Florence fairly often. While I often have to travel within the state, I try to avoid freeways if possible. They stress me out. And I'm curious about our smaller towns.

This can be a problem when it comes to food, however. Not a "crap, I have to eat at Arby's" sort of problem. More of a "I'm not sure there's more than one restaurant in this town; God I hope I don't have to sit at a dirty counter and be stared at by locals or die of salmonella," sort of problem.

Any economics professor can tell you that a monopoly can cause issues. The fewer entrants to a marketplace, the less competition. The less competition...the less pressure to excel.

So eating in a small town is often a fingers-crossed leap of faith. Maybe, against all odds, this will be a good meal. Maybe, just maybe, these people will cook well just because they wouldn't have it any other way. Maybe.

Maybe, if you're lucky, you'll find a place like A&M Pizza in Florence, AZ. This is one location of a chain. The other locations are in Pennsylvania. No, that does not make much sense. But God bless these people.

I grew up on the East Coast. It's hard to find pizza and subs out here that match what I grew up with there. It's totally bizarre to find some of the best in Florence, AZ. But there you go.

The pizza is fantastic. Not too sweet sauce. Hand stretched dough with surprising crackle. The sandwiches are old school. What do I mean? If you order an sub with ham, provolone and mortadella, you get one thick slice of each. A handful of shattered lettuce and slivers of onion and tomato. On a homemade bun with a bit of mayo. That's it. But what else do you need?

Nothing if the ingredients are this good. A word about the rolls. Actually a couple of words.

They make these things fresh everyday. Please do not tell them the following. But I would eat three of those rolls a day, with mayonnaise and nothing else, for the rest of my life and I would happily pay for the privilege.

I have no idea how well this restaurant is doing. Whenever I've been there over the years there's almost no one in the place. But it's still there. Year after year. Quietly doing things just the right way. With obvious pride.

Apparently, the place is going to expand in AZ. To Casa Grande. And Coolidge. So that solves the conundrum of where to eat in those towns. But what about Tucson? Because we don't have a place with rolls like that here. And we need one.

My God, do we need one.

What time is it?! It's Burger Time!

2011-08-05T14:16:00.000-07:00

Suddenly Tucson is awash in Burger Joints. And I don't mean Burger King and the like, I mean places you wouldn't mind spending seven dollars on a burger. This is fabulous news. Who doesn't like a good burger?

Communists. That's who.

No matter. Here's my thoughts on the best spots to grab a pile of hot beef in Tucson. (Insert your own joke here.)

1. Zin Burger-Sam Fox's restaurants don't always work. But when they work, they really work. They've expanded to Phoenix and soon to the east side of the Baked Apple. Fine burgers cooked to order, tasty salads, shakes that could kill a man. Great stuff and still the king.

2. Culver's-Just opened and narrowly nips In-n-Out. Great burgers with a good, not overwhelming variety. I like the smoky, crispy bits around the edges of the patties. I love the frozen custard. What is it? Who cares! It's great! They also serve crinkle-cut fries, of which I am a fan.

3. In-n-Out-Great burgers. Great fries. The ordering process is still enough of a secret code that it annoys me. But the employees are universally cheerful and ease you (meaning me) through it. Just a hair behind Culvers, but I like the variety at Culvers. I also still remember that at base In-n-Out is owned by right wing religious nutjobs that used to put bible quotes at the bottom of the cups. But they make a strong burger.

4. BK's-Yes the primary business is tacos, caramelos, etc. But they also make awesome burgers with killer crispy fries. Mesquite smoke adds a nice edge. The major failing? The service is incredibly up and down. Sometimes it's great. More often it's up and down. Everyone there is super pretty in a music video of five years ago way. I keep expecting the whole place to erupt in song and dance like a Bollywood movie. But the burgers are good.

5. Five Guys Burgers-Very good burgers. Two things. I don't understand the peanuts. Not that I don't like them. But I don't understand them. And this is a menu where, for me, too much is left open. There are simply too many options. I don't mind having the option of leaving off this or that or adding the odd condiment or garnish. Hell, everything's better with bacon, right? But to some extent, I want my restaurant to tell me what it is they like on a burger. I don't eat burgers enough times a week to just happen across my favorite combination through trial and error. But that's me. If that sort of mix and match freedom doesn't scare you, you'll like it there.

6. Monkeyburger-Same general concept as Zin Burger. Same arty pretensions. Great burgers. The service? Ehh. Not so much. The last few times I've been there, they've been creaking under the weight of their own success. But they're local, they're young, and their hearts are in the right place. Definitely worth a trip.

7. Fuddruckers-Certainly you laugh. But if you want to feed a family quality food, this is a good spot. Freshly ground beef cooked to order. Buns baked on site. A huge tub of liquid jalapeno cheese for your fries. Video game! Random crap on the walls! Hooray!

8. Shari's-It's gone, but we remember. A little shack with charbroiled burgers. Twenty or thirty flavors of milkshake. The very taste of a Tucson summer. I miss you Shari's.

Food on TV

2011-07-27T12:42:00.000-07:00

I admit it. I watch a lot of tv. And I'll freely admit to watching a lot of pointless reality television. And not even the sort that appeals to my more, ahem, prurient interests. Heck, I watch House Hunters AND House Hunters International, two of the more pointless shows on television.

I also watch an awful lot of shows about food. And because I love you, I'm here to tell you what I think of them, in order of watchability. No, not every single show is listed here. I don't watch them all. If you want to, please do and set up your own damn blog.

1. Boiling Point-A BBC documentary about the opening of Gordon Ramsay's first restaurant. You want to know what it takes to open a three star restaurant? This is as close as you'll get. Fascinating. And raw. Affirms for all time Ramsay's unswervable commitment to his art and to his own set of standards, both professional and personal. Available to watch on Youtube.

2. Iron Chef-The grandaddy of them all. Note, this is not the American version that's not nearly as entertaining. This is the old school Japanese show that was emphatically not made for American viewers. The premise? Four Iron Chefs. The contestant picks one to compete against. They get an hour to cook as many dishes as they can using a mystery ingredient. Then those meals are judged by three people with only the vaguest connection to the food world. Seriously. A rasanjin scholar. (A type of ancient porcelain). A former legislator. A parade of winsome actresses. Minor athletes. All of which are apparently paid to say things like, "You have honored the liver of this monkfish." Very entertaining and compulsively weird watching. Like everything else that involves a competition, this show was taken waaaaayyyyy too seriously in Japan. If you've never seen it, you must. Note: The American version isn't nearly as compelling.

3. Top Chef-The best of the game show cooking shows. This has evolved from a show on which itinerant and starving sous chefs jousted for a chance to pay off credit card debt, into a showcase of serious culinary skills. Several contestants have gone on to greater success, including Stephanie Izard, the winner of two years ago who is universally hailed as one of America's rising culinary stars. The show features regular contributions by the stars of the cooking world (stars?! Really? Really), like Anthony Bourdain, Jacques Pepin, etc. It's also one of the few shows with real integrity. But then, if you're reading this, you probably know all this already.

4. No Reservations-Some say this show has lost its edge. I say those people are stupid. Don't hate the player, hate the game. Bourdain is an average writer (Kitchen Confidential, great read, his fiction, don't know, don't care) with a great personality, discerning taste in all things and a sincere passion for food. He finds the compelling in every place he visits. In places as diverse as the Ozarks and Dubai, he ferrets out the real connections between place and food. There are plenty of moments that will make you laugh, and plenty that will genuinely move you. I think of his visit to the Plain of Jars in Cambodia. Or one of his visits to Japan where we witness a solitary man making rice noodles by hand, in a fashion that will likely die with him. Along the way, we meet plenty of Tony's friends, cooks like Michael Symon and Eric Ripert, writers like Daniel Woodrell (Winter's Bone) and Jim Harrison (Legends of the Fall). Truly compelling television. Even if you don't like food all that much.

5. Kitchen Nightmares (American and British versions). Here's the premise. A restaurant is failing. A family is failing. The owners call upon Gordon Ramsay to help them fix it. He comes in and tells them their food sucks. They argue. They cry. (Well, Gordon doesn't) Everyone talks about their feelings. Having reduced everyone to quivering piles of goo, Ramsay then rebuilds them. He teaches them to cook. He teaches them to live! Et voila, that most cherished of American dreams; redemption. Is it cheesy? Sure. But Gordon Ramsay, say what you will about him, genuinely cares about food. And he's a spectacular leader. Maybe I'm a gullible sap, but I think he changes lives on this show.

6. Top Chef Masters-Just like the mothership only with accomplished chefs competing for charity. And no Padma Lakshi. Who, by the way, scares the hell out of me. But still a good way to kill an hour.

7. Hell's Kitchen-Yes, Gordon Ramsay's temper is rapidly becoming a cliche. Yes, the contestants are cast in roles (Asian tramp, crazy guy, Latina tramp, slutty white chick, black tramp, nerdy guy with glasses, four or so people who can cook, blimpy pasty guy from NY or NY) rather than chosen for ability. Yes, yes, the show has an all too familiar arc and is impossible to keep up with outside of DVR or Tivo. (Seriously, it'll be on two or three nights in a row and then sometimes for two hours instead of one. What's up with that?) But as said above, the chef that is Ramsay is a leader. And like him or not, you would follow him too. He turns spuds into chefs. (Or at least respectable cooks.) And every once in awhile, you'll see some absolutely bizarre television. To wit: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fzBnFutegJE

8. America's Next Great Restaurant-A dozen or so weirdos of varying ability and craziness who think they've figured out the theme of the next restaurant to compete in the fast casual market. Bobby Flay is a judge, which doesn't annoy me as much as it might have a few years ago, as is Curtis Stone who is very pleasant in an Australian sort of way. It also has Steve Ellis, who always introduces himself as "Steve Ellis, the founder of Chipotle," which, I imagine, is also his standard pickup line with the tramps of Hell's Kitchen.

9. Food Fight-Simple and direct. Who makes the best hot dog in Boise? Well, here's two restaurants who say they do. Let's get it on! Also features a perky, ambiguously ethnic hostess. She could be Puerto Rican, she could be Italian. Sort of like the guy who replaced Steve on Blue's Clues. Not quite dark enough to be threatening, just dark enough to be vaguely exotic. Guessing is half the fun!

10. Restaurant Impossible-Kitchen Nightmares lite. A bigger, louder Scotsman at the helm. Less money. Less time. Less everything! Hooray!

11. Throwdown-Bobby Flay says he can make your signature dish better than you can. Sometimes, he's right.

12. Ace of Cakes-It's gone now. Seemed harmless enough.

13. All of those shows featuring people eating repulsive shit-Man vs. Food, Bizarre Foods, etc. What's the premise of these? "Hey, watch as I try to eat a whole pile of yellow stuff! Hey look, it's moving! God, I should have taken the LSAT again" I used to wonder who watched these shows. ( I used to wonder if anyone thought Tom Green was worth emulating. Then I saw Adam Richman) Then I got married to my wife who happens to be Navajo and I met the in-laws. Now I know the answer. Quite rightly, brown people enjoy watching white people hurt themselves for no good reason whatsoever. Who can blame them? Seriously though, these shows are beyond stupid. There's another coming where two guys eat the spiciest food they can find. Super. I imagine they'll say things like "Extreme!" and "Awesome!" and compare the next morning's explosive bowel movement. Yawn. Count me out.

13. Top Chef Just Desserts-Ouch. Ow, quit it! A few things you should know about me. I watch home decorating shows. I watch Project Runway. I enjoy the short stories of Somerset Maugham and the novels of Jane Austen. I listen to David Bowie and Peggy Lee.

I never thought I would run into a show that was simply too gay for me. And I don't mean too homosexual. I mean too gay. Clarification: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6mKSj_dD09M&feature=related

Until the airing of this abomination of a show. Christ.

So that's it. I know I'm certainly forgetting or omitting shows. Tough. It's my blog.

Bad news, scratch that. Terrible news.

2011-07-07T11:46:00.001-07:00

Those of you who work or live near the downtown area are probably familiar with Chaffin's Diner. It's been a few things prior to operating under that name, but it's been Chaffin's for twelve or thirteen years.

It's an old school diner; deep booths, counter-seating, semi-open kitchen. Fairly typical. The food, however, has been extraordinary .

Chaffin's hits all the diner notes; eggs, club sandwich, etc. But where it really shines is in the execution of those classics. For about two years, I've ordered nothing but eggs florentine here. Poached eggs on English muffin with spinach, covered in hollandaise sauce.

Let's stop right there. This is hollandaise sauce made TO ORDER. In a FREAKING DINER!

Have you ever made hollandaise? I have. In the best of circumstances, in your own kitchen, with all the time in the world, it's a difficult thing to make. In a commercial kitchen, next to a three hundred degree flattop, in the middle of breakfast rush, it's really a feat.

It sometimes takes a while. Because if it curdles, or breaks, they THROW IT OUT AND START OVER!!!

That's the attention to detail that lifts this place above the ordinary. That makes a burger ordered medium rare actually arrive medium rare. That makes bacon actually taste like bacon. That makes iced tea that doesn't taste like it's been steeping since yesterday. Because it hasn't. And if it tasted off, they'd throw it out and start over.

So why is this post labelled "Terrible news?" Because the yellow "For Sale" sign means they're selling the business. And moving away. The new owners will probably still run a diner. (If they don't tear the place down.) But will they make hollandaise a la minute? Will they care if they consistently exceed your expectations? I fear not. I fear I will soon be in hollandaise limbo. Drifting from diner to diner, seeking to capture a time and place lost in the mists of my youth. Or early middle age.

Chaffin's, I miss you already.

Moose Tracks: Compare and Contrast

2011-07-06T09:32:00.000-07:00

For those of you who don't know, Moose Tracks is a flavor of ice cream produced by Denali Flavors and licensed to local brands across this great land. It also happens to be freaking awesome.

Moose Tracks is vanilla ice cream stuffed with peanut butter cups and shot through with ribbons of chocolately goodness. My God, that stuff is good.

Now, the stuff sold at our local chains; Albertson's, Fry's and Safeway, is all certainly called Moose Tracks, but each of these stores produce it themselves under license. There is, therefore, a big difference between these flavors.

In the interest of science, and because, I, of course, consider it my sacred duty, I have sampled each and have found a clear winner. (And by "sampled," I mean I've eaten a large pile of ice cream.)

Drum roll.

Fry's version beats the pants off Albertson's and Safeway's. Both of the latter are very icy, not a good trait in vanilla ice cream. Also, both of the peanut butter cups used in the latter come up short in the peanut butter to chocolate ratio.

Also, Safeway is often mysteriously out of Moose Tracks and instead chock full of Bunny Tracks, some godforsaken pale imitation some focus group invented. Note to Safeway: No one was asking for chocolate bunnies in their ice cream. Also, filling ice cream with hard, brown, raisin-sized lumps is an unfortunate choice for a product named Bunny Tracks.

Think it through.

Good News

2011-07-01T11:19:00.000-07:00

Good news for the Eastside. El Guero Canelo opened another location on 22d East of Craycroft. Of course, the standing sign still says Los Betos, but what else would you expect of Geuro Canelo? Knowing the owner the very little I do, I wonder if he doesn't see it as a battle trophy, like a captured Roman Eagle or a regimental flag? No matter. Bacon wrapped dogs and all the tacos you can eat are on available. No word on whether they'll serve breakfast there too. Also no word on whether BKs will immediately open a location across the street. But that's my guess.

On another note, local superhero Sam Fox is closing Montana Avenue on Grant across from Costco to open another Zin Burger. Good move.

Montana Avenue wasn't a badly run restaurant, but it suffered from a lack of concept. Which, if you're familiar with Sam Fox, (God I love saying that name) is pretty surprising. Service was fine, food was adequate, outside of some bizarre missteps, (note, don't put a pile of arugula atop a freshly fried stack of calamari. The heat from the squid will wilt the arugula, which will in turn release liquid and make said squid soggy. And what's the fascination with arugula anyway?), a weirdly tame winelist and a muddled, directionless menu. In short, I'm happy a restaurant I love is opening in the stead of a restaurant I'm indifferent to.

The Way of the Sushi Chef Is Found In...

2011-06-27T12:05:00.000-07:00

Every few months a friend will mention a new sushi place. What follows is generally the proclamation that X is the best ever to grace our native caliche and that the fish there is just as good as anything you can get in LA, NY, San Francisco, fill in the blank.

Which is, of course, all bullshit.

Sushi is, at base, extremely simple food. Fish and rice. The better those two ingredients are, the better the meal. And fish of better quality is available other places that are closer to the ocean, places that have things like wholesale fish markets. Superlative, blow your mind nigiri requires classically trained chefs steeped in hundreds of years of tradition. Those folks ain't moving to Tucson for a twelve dollar an hour job.

That said, Tucson certainly has its share of perfectly adequate sushi restaurants where the chefs care about what they're doing and try to make your experience as pleasurable as possible. And that's what it really is about.

When the fish is the same in this joint or that one, there's little about the menu itself that divides one place from another. That's especially true for those like myself who veer more closely to the nigiri/sashimi edge of the sushi spectrum. Seriously, if you're not a nineteen year old sorority girl, why are you having a caterpillar roll? Why? Because you don't like the taste of fish. The same way you drink wine coolers because you still want to get drunk without that nasty alcohol taste.

But I digress.

Here's what I'm looking for in a satisfactory sushi restaurant:

1. It must be clean.
2. Seriously, it has to be clean.
3. I don't want the spicy yellowtail on my roll to be scooped out of a plastic bin.
4. I also want it to still be recognizable to the naked eye as fish.
5. The rice must be prepared correctly. It should be sushi rice, should taste faintly of vinegar and not be over cooked.
6. See number 5.
7. Consistency.
8. Service that will get the hell out of my way and let me enjoy my lunch.

Sachiko, the name means, loosely, "Happiness," delivers all this. It is, to coin Hemingway, a clean, well-lighted place. The service is attentive, but not intrusive. The fish is reasonably fresh and consistently dressed.

It is a place of comfortable routine and cared for food. My wife and I live nearby and we frequent it with our children. My wife enjoys the noodle dishes. I enjoy my sashimi. My children enjoy the chopsticks and staring at the things I eat.

In the Hagekure, one of the very first phrases states that "[t]he Way of the Samurai is found in death." That's not pointless bravado. That's the acceptance of a core Zen principle as a way of life, that the way you do something is more important than the end result. That even if the desired result is not possible, that one will still live consciously. To the best of one's ability.

Sachiko Sushi will never be the best sushi restaurant on earth. It does not have the personnel or raw material available to equal the best that New York or Los Angeles has to offer. It doesn't need to.

It has a small core of family willing to work hard, to grasp the best things available to them, and to give you, and me, the best they can. Without let up. Day after day. That is a thing to be admired. And Sachiko Sushi is a restaurant to be frequented.

Seoul Kitchen

2011-06-14T10:06:00.000-07:00

I've been a big fan of Korean food for a long time.

In college, my longest-standing roommate was half Korean. His mother took care of us. And by took care of us, I mean, she tried, in a very loving way to jam herself into every aspect of our lives, from our romantic interests to our daily intake of pickled cabbage. She was gentle about it. For instance, if she thought our vegetable intake was lacking, she'd get a faraway stare and say something like, "People should eat more salad." People meaning us.

It was certainly meant well and we took it as such. Most of her advice, suggested clothing purchases, etc., we simply blithely ignored. Probably to our detriment. But the one thing I didn't ever ignore and in fact welcomed, were the monthly deliveries of kimchi. By kimchi I mean pickled cabbage with chili. I could have eaten a gallon of the stuff. Probably still could, with tears running down my face.

So happy indeed was I when Seoul Kitchen opened near our home. It's your typical strip mall joint, not very large, sort of hard to find if you don't know it's there. The food is sensational and direct. As, in my opinion, it should be. This is straight up Korean soul-food (seoul food?). That means meat. That means rice. That means two or three simple flavors, strong and without embellishment.

That certainly doesn't mean you can't embellish. Every meal comes with an assortment of kimchi. From the aforementioned cabbage to daikon, to a small dish of bean sprouts. You're free to add what you like. Plates are generally large enough to share. You certainly won't go away hungry.

You may, however, have periods of hunger. The general problem with most family run restaurants is that, at the start of the business, they have no, and I mean no, experience running a restaurant. What does that mean for you dear diner? It means your meals are cooked one at a time. In the order they get to the kitchen. So your food arrives in the same way. It means your waitress isn't really a waitress. She's more of an expediter.

Seoul Kitchen suffers when there are more than two or three diners in the place. Which there usually are. Because the food is really just that good. So good, that I'd like to overlook the service completely. But they've been there for a while now and they should have worked some of this out for themselves.

The bottom line? By all means visit the Seoul Kitchen. On a weekday. At about three o'colck.

The fourteen dollar frozen pizza.

2010-01-25T06:19:00.000-08:00

I've never been a fan of Domino's. They were (and unfortunately still are) a relic of the days when the options for delivery pizza were somewhat limited. Consider. During the eighties and some of the nineties, Pizza Hut didn't deliver. You were therefore at the mercies of Domino's or whatever local joint happened to be in the neighborhood. So it was often Domino's or nothing.

To top it off, the pizza simply blew. Just bad. And it was expensive. Still is frankly.

So it was something of a pleasant surprise to see the latest wave of Domino's commercials, you know the "we know we suck and so we changed" commercials? They promise a better crust, tasty sauce, "real" cheese! Whatever that last means. What were they using before?

But anyway, it looks good on the tv. And I'm always willing to give the product of honest introspection a chance, right? After all, that's why Ford gave us the Taurus, right? Right!

So the other day when we both arrived home from work and didn't want to cook, we took the plunge. Ordering online, we were able to track our pizza step by step, from creation to delivery. I imagine this innovation was in response to the legions of America's obese who used to just stare at the clock and fume.

So we eventually got our pizza. The deliveryman was a nice guy. Bonus. The pizza was still expensive, fifteen bucks for a small. But hey, that's okay with me if the pizza is good.

Well, it ain't. If anything, it's worse. Doughy, not much cheese, tasted stale. Passable. But not good. If anything, it tasted like frozen pizza. A fifteen dollar frozen pizza. Ouch.

So nice try Domino's. We appreciate the effort. But this is a world of 'do,' not 'try.' And your do is just not very good.

Closings-Signs of the times

2010-01-07T05:56:00.000-08:00

Two restaurants of note went under last month, Auntie Dora's Soul Food and Mexa, a hip little taco joint.

Mexa had a good chance. We ate there twice. They had an unusual selection of tasty tacos, done well and pretty cheap. Their location, however, was the kiss of death. You know where Home Depot is on Oracle? Yep, that was the shopping center. Between being tucked into an alcove no one could see from the road and the brown shades they drew over the windows even when open, it was hard to figure out that the place existed. Now, alas, that problem is moot.

Auntie Dora's Soul Food was open for about ten minutes on Ft. Lowell. After it was shut down by the city for a lack of permitting, it never reopened. D'oh!

Now both these places suffered from the usul lack of restaurant expertise. Mexa was always full of the owner's pals hanging around and making it feel like a club you didn't belong to. Auntie Dora's? Really? You don't think you might need a permit to run a commercial gas grill and deep fryer?

But there's something else these two locations share. That is, it's been a month or two now and both remain empty. Heck, the building Auntie Dora's occupied was empty for a year or so before they moved in. Not only Mexa's space, but all the spaces in their building stand vacant.

So what's the point? Well, where is the support from the landlords? When Mexa started to stumble, did any one offer help with advertising, or a rent abatement? Judging by the pathetic signs they used to put out on Oracle, I'm guessing no. And Dora's? Heck, the place was a restaurant for years. Did the landlord ever take thirty minutes to sit down with these folks and ask them if they needed the benefit of a little expertise?

Now before you go all Libertarian on my ass, I'm not suggesting that landlords have a responsibility to run their tenant's business. What I am suggesting is that something has disappeared from Tucson business ethics. And that's the urge to act in one's own enlightened self-interest. And what's that a product of? Well, I have absolutely no proof of this, but I suspect its a function of absentee ownership.

If you're a local landlord, longevity of tenants is important to you. If you're a conglomerate like General Growth Properties, you probably don't really give a shit. And who pays for that? We do.

In a culinary market increasingly dominated by Chilis and Macaroni Grill, we all have a responsibility to our marketplace. You and me the eater have to support local restaurants of quality. We have to speak up when we see a good place screwing up. Local landlords need to foster the growth of their tenants that have a chance. Otherwise, the next time we go to eat, it'll be a choice between Applebees and Cocos. And I don't want to live in that world.

You have been warned.

El Guero Canelo

2009-12-22T12:30:00.000-08:00

I love the food at this place. Breakfast, lunch or dinner. It's all, and I mean all, good.

Lately though, it's become obvious that the Oracle Road location has become little more than a shrine to the restaurant's owner.

First, we have the truck and taco stand outside, complete with informative signs, arranged like retired airplanes out at the Air Force Boneyard.

Inside, lately, the place is eerily devoid of conversation. Why? Well, first, like any modern church, there ain't anybody in there that doesn't work there. Second, the TVs are on at an absolutely absurd volume. And what are they currently playing? Scenes from the life of the prophet. Here's some footage of some guy at the grill, bashing away at a giant pile of meat. And then, for no particular reason, here's our founder, shouting furiously in Spanish.

I have no idea what he's talking about. Largely because of the echo in the place. I'm assuming its some sort of sermon involving the sacrament of grilled skirt steak. Or hot dogs maybe.

There are other signs of an ego completely out of control. The giant baby pictures. Et cetera. The most telling sign, however, might be the utter absence of customers at eight am on a Monday morning. Like church, most people ain't coming to pray unless they need something. And rare indeed, at least in this town, are the moments I need a Guero Canelo burrito when the Chapel of All Things BK's is one street over.

Take note my friend.

Sam Fox Pt. Un--Zin Burger

2009-12-21T07:31:00.000-08:00

I like Zin Burger. And you should too.

Zin Burger is the perfect example of something Sam Fox got exactly right. And why? Because the concept is focused. Hip joint, simple menu.

Seared meat. Milkshakes. A salad or two. Beer and wine if you want it.

And what meat! Perfectly done, juicy patties, topped with premium ingredients.

So why isn't Zin Burger Fuddrucker's?

Great question. I mean, it's basically the same concept right? Right. Almost to a T. But what Zin Burger does is a bit of conceptual trickery. It gives you ingredients that sound premium, even if they're really not. Carmelized onions? Please. Sure they're good. Even at TGI Friday's.

But that's not all of it. Because what Sam's peddling here isn't just food. It's a concept. He makes you feel like you're part of something bigger than you are. That's why servers in ties bring you the food. It makes what is, in essence, a burger and fries, feel like something special. And that's not a bad thing. It works. Ambience and atmosphere are as much a part of dining as the food. That's why nothing, nothing, no matter what it is, tastes good in Furr's. Could be gold on a stick. But it's still going to taste like crap. Cause you're in Furr's and it's goddamned depressing. Or you're in Fuddruckers and you can't wait to get out of the place because it's too freaking fake-happy. Note to Fuddruckers: What's with the windows where you butcher the meat? You really think we want to see that? "That's right Jimmy. That's a real honest to goodness, tailend of an abbatoir In other words, this is a midpoint in a cow's life between playing in a field and becoming a good solid bowel movement." Sheesh.

But you could eat anything in Zin Burger, like a burger, fries and milkshake, and believe you're having an extraordinary meal. Which, at base, it isn't. It's just a very good meal. And I have those at Fuddruckers all the time. (Almost all the time.)

That being said, I love Zin Burger. It's where my wife and I go when we're having date night. It makes us feel hip and adult. (And geez, those banana milkshakes are good.) And that's a great thing. And that's what Sam Fox delivers when he's firing on all cylinders. And Zin Burger fies on all eight. Maybe nine.

On another note, what he also delivers, in all of his restaurants, is absolutely smothering service. There is a happy medium between abandonment and intrusiveness. Fox Restaurant Concepts needs to find the middle ground between the two. Jesus. I feel like I've gained a cousin, maybe two cousins I've never met when I go there. And they want money. So they keep complimenting my shoes and asking me if I've lost weight, even though they've never met me. Please. Take it down a couple of notches.

Sam Fox-Prince of the City or Public Enemy?

2009-10-16T11:19:00.000-07:00

People in Tucson have strong feelings about Sam Fox. I've never met the guy, but I admire anybody who can get by with just six letters. Christ, that's a dynamic name. Say it with me.

Sam.

Fox.

Sam Fox.

Gives me goosebumps. I expect him to shoot rays of light from his eyes or be ten feet tall or something. Of course, he's nothing like that. Not really. What Sam is, is a restauranteur. And a very successful one.

From North to Sauce, to Montana Avenue, to Zin Burger, Sam has made an indelible impression on Tucson's dining scene. Some love his restaurants and appreciate the fact that a Fox Restaurant Concept is truly a total dining experience. For better (usually), for worse (occasionally). Some hate the restaurants and find them contrived and pretentious.

Me? I care about one thing really. Food.

Through the next few weeks, I'll be reviewing some of Sam's restaurants. Why?

Just because I love you. And also, because I think Sam has brought some truly wonderful eateries to the Old Pueblo. And because I appreciate anyone who at least tries to do something. That's not to say that I'm fond of all his restaurants. I'm certainly not. But I find the enterprise interesting.

El Charro Update

2009-10-15T13:57:00.000-07:00

I know, I know, I promised this forever.

Anyway, not a whole lot to report. Ray Flores and I have become casual friends. We run into each other in downtown Tucson a lot.

They still serve the best carne seca in the city. The service, lunch service at least, continues to be somewhat spotty, but I don't see any particular motive to that.

I will say this though. Ahem.

Mexican food is a magnificent cuisine. And a complex one. Just as complex as French or Chinese cooking. Try making a mole poblano if you don't believe me.

Why is it then that every Mexican joint in this city (sixty miles from the border as we are) is serving almost exactly the same menu, regardless of price, atmosphere and aspiration?

Here's your page of burritos and chimis. Here's your page of tacos. Here are your combos. Here's your carne asada plate. How about a plate of enchiladas? Would you like chicken, cheese or ground beef? Or, if you're particularly adventurous, why not mix and match? Oooooo... adventure!

This would make some sense to me if we were in Utica or Boise. But in Tucson? Really??

Why is it that the best Mexican restaurant in the country is in Chicago? (Frontera Grill or Topolobompo, take your pick) It honestly puzzles me.

Obviously, this is a blanket generalization. Yes, I know that La Parilla Suiza pumps out pretty good Mexico City food. I know that El Charro (believe me I know Ray) takes a mild chance here and there. But Christ, even Phoenicians have Asi Es La Vida and Dick's Hideaway (technically New Mexican cooking). Me? I have the choice of having the conchinita pibil at either El Parador or la Fresita. At one place it'll run me five bucks. At the other, twelve dollars. other than geography, there really isn't a substantive difference in the food. Isn't there something wrong with that? Don't we, as greedy hoarding grasping gluttons deserve better?

La Fresita Review

2009-10-15T13:45:00.000-07:00

Yes, I'm back. I was busy. Really busy. I have a job, three daughters and a pregnant wife. So get off my back.

To kick things off again, I thought I'd opine about La Fresita, a chain of two or three taquerias scattered about Tucson. La Fresita, of course, literally translated, means "The Strawberry." What that has to do with Mexican food, I'm unsure. But the food is great, so who cares?

We haunt the location on St. Mary's Road. Sweetie works near there and it's convenient. It's also damn tasty. (That's right. I swore. It's really that good.)

This is straightforward Sonoran food. Tortas, tacos, burritos. But everything is fresh and actually tastes as it should. If it says it comes with avacado, it comes with slices of actual avacodo, not bright green spackle. After ordering, they bring the food to your table along with two squirt bottles of salsa, one green, one red. Good stuff.

They also serve liquados, sort of a Mexican milk, fruit and ice drink. They're tasty and filling. Highly recommended. Bottom line, if it's simple, its done well here. Great carnitas, crunchy and smooth, just the way its supposed to be. Carne asada is terrific. Torta a milanese, which involves a breaded, fried cutlet, not so great. Stick with the carne asada.

This is a great place to stare into a mirror handpainted with a huge strawberry and wonder. Wonder why you pay twelve dollars for the same torta in a different restaurant. Do yourself a favor. Hustle down to La Fresita.

Stuff I miss, Part 2, Dole Fruit n' Juice bars, peach

2009-03-06T08:53:00.000-08:00

Dole Fruit n' Juice bars are pretty amazing in general. They're one of those incredible commodities, a relatively healthy dessert that's unbelievably tasty. The strawberry is good. The raspberry is good. Even the coconut is pretty tasty.

But the best by far was the peach.

You know those peaches in light syrup you ate as a kid? How sweet and utterly delicious they were? How even the very texture was an almost erotic pleasure? I sure do. Now imagine someone took one on those cans, emptied out the peaches, chopped them up, stuck a wooden stick in there and popped the whole thing in the freezer. Sound good? It's better. Way better.

I used to keep a couple of boxes of these things around. When friends came by, especially my very talkative friends, I'd shove one of these at them.

They'd hold it like I'd passed over a dirty sock. You know, two fingers. Arms length. "I don't want it."

"It's already open. Eat it."

"You eat it."

"I have one."

"I don't like peaches."

"One bite."

"I don't like popsicles."

"Just try it."

A tentative lick. Another. Soon there's a look of absolute concentration. And no sound beyond the slurping of the popsicle, an occasional moan and the ending comment, "My God. Oh my God."

You think I'm exaggerating. I'm not. But unfortunately, I can't prove it. Because for some unknown reason, Dole withdrew the flavor without announcement. And still, to this day, whenever I'm in the freezer aisle I search in vain.

Someone obviously does care.

2009-03-04T18:52:00.000-08:00

I emailed my review of El Charro to the restaurant. Almost immediately, Ray Flores, the owner of the restaurant, emailed me back.

Mr. Flores admitted to problems with the waitstaff.

He also asked to meet with me personally to discuss the matter, an offer I immediately accepted.

It is certainly encouraging that Mr. Flores obviously cares very deeply about the reputation of his restaurant. I look forward to posting a follow-up.

El Charro; Downtown Tucson

2009-03-04T17:14:00.000-08:00

This is a painful review to write. I've always had a soft spot for this place and have always defended it from detractors who claim it's getting too touristy. And one of the main reasons I did was because of the attentive, professional service.

For example, more than a few years ago, my ex-wife and I went down there for dinner on our anniversary. Somehow they knew it was a special night. Somehow our waiter figured out it was our anniversary. And at the end of the meal, unannounced and unasked, a large slice of tres leches cake appeared, an item that wasn't even on the menu at the time. Our waiter explained it was a Mexican tradition. We felt the love in the place that night. That moment and that gesture made me a loyal fan. And I am a loyal fan. I can forgive a lot if I like a place.

Well. I may have to add my name to the list of local detractors.

It's not a food thing. Sure, the menu leans a bit hard toward the "cheesy beans" as an old friend would say. But German tourists have their own idea of Mexican food. And if El Charro wants to stay in business, it needs to keep those people happy. I accept that. And as long as the carne seca remains an inviolate classic, I'll be happy with the food.

Carne seca? A southwest classic and the restaurant has as good a claim as any to its invention. Wind-dried beef. Shredded, reconstituted, spiced and cooked. Good stuff with an absolutely amazing texture. I love the stuff. I've made the stuff. And without reservation, I can say that El Charro's carne seca is the best I've ever had. I crave it sometimes.

The rest of the menu? How bout a burrito? Yawn. A taco salad? A chimichanga? Something with lots of cheese? Way to push the envelope guys. But again, I can't blame them. It's a formula that's worked for decades. Who am I to criticize?

So I'll leave the food alone. What I can't excuse is the absolutely indifferent service.

I eat lunch early. I like to avoid the rush. So for the second time in a month, my Sweetie and I arrived at El Charro at about 11:15 a.m. The restaurant was almost empty. The interior dining room was completely empty. And for the second time in a month, we were guided to the table closest to the kitchen. And for the second time in a month, we were then completely ignored.

By completely, I mean that at least three waiters walked by us into the kitchen without a word or smile. By ignored, I mean I could hear several servers just around the corner, shooting the breeze. By ignored, I mean that even though I started banging my plate on the table and yelping, noone, noone came to see what the ruckus was about. By ignored, I mean that even though I walked through a cloud of servers on my way out the door, not one asked if I needed help.

(I have chosen to remove a portion of this post. I remove it not because I do not believe I have a right to express my subjective opinions, but because of the personal contact I have had with the owner of El Charro. I have found him to be a professional man of great integrity. As a favor to him and his family I am removing these negative statements.)

There have been other problems with the service lately. Missing food. Appetizers that suddenly appear along with dinner. The wrong food. Cold food.

Maybe El Charro is of the opinion it doesn't need local regulars. And if you don't need regulars, then who cares how you treat the tourists? They won't be back. So who cares?

And that's the message that El Charro is sending loud and clear. We're a legend. We have reviews and plaudits from national magazines. We don't need you. And we don't care.

I hear you El Charro. Loud and clear.

Checkerboard Cafe; Oracle Road

2009-03-04T06:00:00.000-08:00

Diner food ain't complicated. Or at least it shouldn't be. And diner food is really all about breakfast.

Why do we go to diners? Because we had one too many swallows of Laphroig the night before. Because we want to give our kids a special treat before school. Because sometimes, we need an actual meal before a long day.

A true diner is not a place to find a sundried tomato on your omelet. A diner is about the classics. A diner is about craft, not innovation. The Checkerboard Cafe understands that.

The place itself is nothing special. It was probably a fast food joint at some point. There are tables. And chairs and booths. And because the owner's dad ran a Sambo's, there are blithely racist paintings from that place on the wall.

And then there's the food.

The man knows how to cook an egg. The difference between over medium and over easy. How to scramble a couple of eggs, not murder them. He knows how to cook bacon. (No small feat.) He turns out perfect pancakes the size of your head. And most of all, no matter what you order, the man can cook a potato.

Diners are not about home fries. Diners are about hashbrowns, because diners are about consistency during volume sales. About a pile of shredded potatoes, a flat-top grill and the will to turn out a consistent slab of golden brown, crispy-moist hashbrowns time after time after time.

This is what this place does well. And honestly, there is nothing more important than doing the classics well, whether you're cooking four-star food or handing out hot dogs. And it's all about the classics here. Take the chicken-fried steak and eggs at Checkerboard. (I often do.)

Perfectly cooked steak. Crispy, not chewy. Gravy they make themselves, scattered with bits of what I assume are sausage. Rye toast, done right. Hashbrowns, done better than right. Two eggs, done exactly as ordered.

Your choice between three sorts of hot sauce. Coffee. It's diner coffee. I don't expect it to be good and it isn't. What it is is hot and brown. Classic diner coffee. The way it should be. That's the Checkerboard. A diner. As it should be.

Food cooked with respect. Respect for you. Respect for the food. And respect for themselves. I suspect most of their customers stop there because it's on the way. If there was a JB's or a Village Inn a block before the Checkerboard, they'd stop there. They wouldn't know the difference if the place served slop. But the man behind the grill would know. And the man behind the grill is proud.

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

2009-02-24T09:41:00.000-08:00

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)

2009-02-23T06:45:00.000-08:00

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

2009-02-17T17:13:00.000-08:00

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

2009-02-11T06:38:00.000-08:00

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

2009-02-10T07:41:00.000-08:00

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

2009-02-10T06:34:00.000-08:00

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.