Review: Vedge

Honest. Unselfconscious. Maybe a little playful, with a sense of humor. These are great qualities in people, and maybe even better qualities in food. That's why I've never been a fan of vegetarian and vegan dishes that pretend to be something they're not: I'm of the belief that the best vegan food is simply good food that happens not to have any animal products in it.

Because of this, I never was the greatest fan of Horizons, the vegan spot formerly on Seventh Street, whose menu was a minefield of seitan, tofu and other protein pretenders. So I was pleased to learn that the new place from the folks behind Horizons was supposed to focus more on the real stars of the plant show: vegetables. We took a trip to Vedge to see if it lived up to this ideal.

The space on Locust Street is certainly larger than Horizons' second-floor perch was, and it's appointed in a fairly old-fashioned manner, if a bit spare. Comfortable enough; now a look at the menu.

Broken simply into "small bites" and "plates", there's no real indication of the various dishes' sizes, and I had to ask the waitress for some guidance (which otherwise didn't seem to be forthcoming). She suggested two or three "plates" per diner, with perhaps a few "bites" to share around. So it seems like they are going for a "small plates" paradigm, but we will discuss the problems with that later.

The bites we started with were the peel-and-eat lupini beans with piri piri, the mixed black olives, and the truffled fingerling fries with porcini salt. The lupini had that great unique piri piri flavor without being too spicy, if the beans themselves were on the hard side. The fingerlings, in a delightfully motley assortment of sizes and degrees of smashiness, sported a very delicate crispy skin, though not a whole lot of truffle or porcini flavor. The olives were pretty much just olives.

My first larger course was the honshimeji mushrooms "beach style". I'll be honest, I couldn't remember what a honshimeji was, but my surreptitious Googling told me it was a mushroom – though it could not tell me that I had unintentionally ordered a soup. Not what I expected from the description, and to be honest, the first several spoonfuls of the mushroom, celery leaf and red potato soup were awfully bland, but at some point the flavor kicked in and the dish coalesced into a steaming bowl of rich, umami-powered goodness.

Then, all our plates were cleared, new silverware was delivered (including oversized steak knives; these seemed to be trying to make some kind of statement), and we waited for quite a while.

Some time later, our second main selections arrived. Mine was the eggplant "braciole", a slice of smoked eggplant wrapped around some sort of finely-minced mixture which was apparently cauliflower, and swimming in a creamy, fresh garbanzo-studded sauce.

And it was in this course that a problem that existed even at Horizons manifested itself. It was salty. Very salty, and salty in a cumulative way that made the last bite taste exponentially saltier than the first. (My three lovely dining companions, including one who is a real salt fiend, all agreed.) By the end, I wasn't tasting vegetables at all; just a lingering, tongue-coating "sameness" on the salty-creamy axis that kept the veggies' natural flavor from shining through.

This was even evident on the two items we ordered off the "dirt list", an ever-changing sampling of today's "farm vegetables" (where else would they come from?). Though you would expect these preparations to highlight the natural character of the vegetables, the royal trumpet mushrooms were sliced very very thin and were served practically drowning in some sort of buttery-tasting white sauce, and the shaved and grilled brussels sprouts found themselves coated in a similar salty substance. In effect, this is precisely the opposite of what I expected and desired from these preparations. If there is effort being made to develop flavors in these vegetables through cooking technique, it is being overshadowed by the heavy-handedness of the seasoning.

Beyond the cooking foibles I found, I have to point out the unsuitability of the dishes for a "small plates" format. Very few things were readily shareable (being soups, or single large pieces), and the coursing was fairly rigid, so there wasn't the sort of rolling, convivial dining experience that you would expect from, say, a Jose Garces restaurant. Plus, the waitress's recommendation to order "two or three" large dishes would almost certainly result in you getting too much food.

So here is a restaurant named for and intended to celebrate the vegetable, which instead has a tendency to beat them into submission; a place where the potential for culinary discovery is derailed by a confused menu concept and clumsy service. I came to Vedge excited, with a completely open mind, leaving my Horizons experiences behind me. I left knowing that the potential exists for a vegan restaurant to stand on its own culinary merits, to put the full force of both centuries of tradition and cutting-edge modern technique behind exalting the roots, leaves and fungi that can be so varied and exciting. But for now, at least, this place is not it.

Roasty Brussels Sprouts

So I think collectively as a culture, we've gotten over our revulsion to Brussels sprouts. If you haven't, maybe it's because you haven't had them prepared the right way – boiling into oblivion is no way to do this noble cruciferous veggie justice. Roasting allows the sprouts to attain a nice texture that's tender, but not too soft, and preparing these little guys with the right mix of flavors helps bring out their natural goodness.

The technique I used with these also works well with roasting or grilling other vegetables – basically, it entails making something like a vinaigrette, then tossing the veggies in it before cooking. Emulsifying everything helps ensure a more even coating than the old "dash on some oil and vinegar and pray" approach. In this case, I'm using bacon fat, because that savory smokiness really adds something to the dish; however feel free to substitute your favorite oil if you're not a bacon fan for whatever reason.

Ready for roasting

Roasty Brussels Sprouts

(all measurements approximate)

1 lb Brussels sprouts

1 tbsp bacon fat, melted (or oil of your choice)

1 tbsp maple syrup

2 tsp balsamic vinegar

1 tsp coarse-grain prepared mustard

2 tbsp apple cider (if you have it)

Healthy pinch of salt

Few grinds black pepper

1/4 tsp cayenne pepper

1 tsp garlic powder (optional)

Preheat the oven to 425°. Wash the sprouts and DRAIN THOROUGHLY. Trim off the brown ends if present, then split each sprout down the middle top to bottom.

Whisk together the remaining ingredients in a large bowl until fully incorporated. Add the sprouts and toss to coat thoroughly. Dump everything out on a cookie sheet, making sure that the sprouts are flat side down and not touching each other. (If there's not enough room for the sprouts to spread out, do two batches or get a bigger pan, because they won't caramelize properly if they're all on top of each other.)

Bake for 15-20 minutes, or until sprouts are brown around the edges.

Liquid Education: The Manhattan at Tryst

Sure, we tackled the Manhattan here at I'll Eat You with Project Manhattan, but when I learned about a class on the classic cocktail being offered at Tryst (the bar under Le Bec-Fin, formerly Le Bar Lyonnais), I knew it would be a must-visit. I must say my that Jonathan, my partner in whiskey appreciation, and I were not disappointed in the least, and I'd recommend the rest of the classes on the course schedule without hesitation.

The presentation was done by Erik Lombardo, bar manager and chief mixologist at Tryst. As someone who got started in the business by making cocktails at home, his passion and enthusiasm were palpable throughout the evening, and I had a feeling that if not for the scheduled end time, the event would have lasted all night. He started with some historical background about the rise of the cocktail in the nineteenth century, and shot down a few of the apocryphal stories of the Manhattan's origin (including the story that Winston Churchill's mother invented the drink – which would have been difficult, since she was giving birth to the future prime minister in England during the New York party where the drink was allegedly first served).

We then got into ingredients, and a little more historical information on the rise and fall of rye whiskey in the US. Once the liquor of choice in the North, Prohibition brought production to a halt, and even following the repeal, rye never regained its popularity. Now, with the renewed interest in old-timey mixology, rye is enjoying a comeback, and a newcomer is making a big impression on the scene. I've always liked Bulleit bourbon, but now the good folks who make that fine potable are producing a whiskey made with 95% rye. It's a little spicy, nicely oaked, and served as a great all-around base for the three cocktails we enjoyed.

The first was the classic Manhattan. Whiskey, vermouth, bitters. Stirred. The details, of course, make the difference. The relative amounts of whiskey and vermouth are very important, and this one was made with a 2:1 ratio. That sounds like a lot of vermouth, but when you're using good vermouth (this was Cinzano) and not something that's been rattling around the back of your liquor cabinet since the Clinton administration, you actually want to taste it – and a complex, spicy whiskey like the Bulleit Rye is more than a match for the vermouth's sweetness. With the addition of the angostura bitters, the balance is impeccable.

The other ingredient not mentioned is water (in the form of melted ice). Shockingly, water can end up being 25% of a cocktail, so it's important to use pure, dense ice, in pieces as large as possible to avoid excessive melting. And for God's sake, don't shake a Manhattan, stir it, because you don't want froth and chipped ice in your drink, you want velvety smoothness. Trust me. I think James Bond, with his "shaken, not stirred" tagline, did more damage to the proper preparation of cocktails than he did to his Cold War adversaries.

Next, we were served a little snack of seared veal tongue served with pea shoots and a citrus vinaigrette, delicious and as pure of flavor as anything else that comes out of Le Bec's kitchens.

The other two drinks shared the same "plot" as the Manhattan (as well as New York-related names), but it was striking how different they tasted. The Brooklyn, made with whiskey, Amer Picon, maraschino liqueur, and dry vermouth, had a citrusy zing, but I wasn't fond of the sharp herbal notes from the dry vermouth. The last cocktail was the Red Hook, which seems to be a recent invention (from the mid 2000s). Made with Punt e Mes (a red vermouth already spiked with bitters) and maraschino, it had an oxidized, "brown"flavor reminiscent of a Port, and I could see serving it as a welcome substitute to that dessert wine.

Maybe this write-up was a little long-winded, but I didn't even cover all of the information conveyed during the event. If the rest of this series is like this one, I really can't recommend them enough, and at $25 they're quite a steal considering that you're getting three half-drinks, a small appetizer and a dazzling amount of knowledge. Perhaps what I appreciated most, though, was that every detail of these drinks was fussed over with the utmost scrutiny and passion, and yet Erik openly rejected any pretentiousness about the whole topic. This stuff is supposed to be fun, right? So grab some rye and stir up a Manhattan, or come out to Tryst to enhance your beverage repertoire.

Review: Delilah's Soul Food

So I know it's not super fair to review a place solely on one dish alone, however, this particular dish was so 1) overhyped and 2) disgusting, that it is imperative that I share my dissapointment.

Here's the backstory: a few years ago, Oprah Winfrey touted on her show that Delilah's Soul Food (at Philadelphia's own Reading Terminal) made the best macaroni and cheese in the country. Mac and cheese may be my favorite food in the world, but after reviewing the recipe that included a dozen eggs and velveeta cheese, I opted to pass.

Fast forward to today. Many of our loyal followers may not know that we're expecting a new addition to the I'll Eat You family. Next February, this little culinarian will be introduced to the world, but while she's still growing, I have to respond to her every epicurian desire. She seems to have inherited my taste for the stuff, because while sitting at my desk 3 blocks from Reading Terminal, this baby demanded some mac n cheese. While deciding where to procure the stuff, I decided that if there is ever a time to try the world's best mac n cheese, it might as well be while you're pregnant and have a little parasite in your body to help you burn the extra calories. So off to the terminal I went.

The offerings at Delilah's looked good overall, especially the fried chicken and collard greens, but I was there for one purpose only. I was a bit apalled to see that this stuff had gotten so much publicity that the price for a 5 oz cup was $5.00. Upon tasting it, I can confidently conclude that this was the WORST macaroni and cheese I have EVER eaten. And that includes KFC mac and cheese (have you tried that stuff? vile.) The overall appearance was oily, The sauce had separated and was grainy. Actually, it was chewy. The smooth and creamy element you expect in mac and cheese was missing. Well, unless you count the texture of overcooked pasta, but that's really more mushy. The cheese was sour-tasting, maybe due to the use of too much asiago, or maybe just because the whole dish is ill-conceived.

Please don't eat this. There are so many better food options at the terminal. You're much better off getting BBQ chicken from the Amish stand, Mexican from 12th st Cantina, or Cajun from Beck's Cajun Cafe. As for mac and cheese, you are better served by a container of Easy Mac from CVS then Delilah's.

Review: Zeppoli

Disclaimer: We dined at Zeppoli with a cousin of chef/owner Joey Baldino, so we were treated to free desserts.


So it's over the Walt Whitman to check out the new and much buzzed-about Zeppoli, a Sicilian BYOB helmed by Joey Baldino, who has worked with a roster of culinary greats like Marc Vetri, Alice Waters, and Georges Perrier. What we found was awesome Mediterranean cuisine showing a level of skill, refinement, and attention to quality ingredients befitting the chef's impressive resume. You're not necessarily going to taste anything you've never tasted before, but rarely do you come across it prepared so well.

The interior is simply appointed: assorted cacti and other succulents on one windowsill, vintage photographs of the old country on the beige walls that are embellished with wainscoting said to be donated by the chef of Mr. Martino's Trattoria in South Philly. Between the small size, all the hard surfaces, and the open kitchen, it can get a bit noisy, but the space is otherwise cozy and lively at the same time without being overly formal.

The menu is divided into thirds with salads and antipasti serving as starters, a column of pasta dishes that can be ordered in either appetizer or main-course portions, and traditional mains. All three of my dining companions started with the simple insalata verde, mixed greens with shaved fennel, topped with caciocavallo cheese. I had the Panzanella Catania, a take on the traditional bread and tomato salad topped with some very mild capers and fresh white anchovies. I think I'm so used to Lauren's delicious yet bread-heavy panzanella that this felt more like a "salad with croutons" than a full-fledged panzanella, but the tomatoes were ripe and flavorful, and I loved the subtle fishiness of the anchovies on top.

The agreement between Lauren and me was that we would go halfsies on the steak and the Sicilian Fisherman Stew, but Lauren became so enamored of the stew that it ended up as barely a case of quartersies. Clams, head-on shrimp, and mussels all cavorting in a saffron-spiked, silken (and perhaps buttery?) broth that also played host to some of the most completely tenderized calamari I've ever had. This, and coarse Moroccan couscous providing some additional texture.

As for the steak, the maybe half-inch-thick rib-eye had a fabulously flavorful and crunchy crust and just enough fat marbled throughout to make it a succulent experience without being too greasy. The arugula and tomato salad on the side, though a bit of a repeat from my panzanella, did a great job as a counterpoint to the savory beef.

We didn't taste our friends' pasta dishes, but the spinach and ricotta gnocchi (very large, almost veering into gnudi territory) in brown butter sauce looked like a must-try for our next visit.

Thanks to our family connection at the table, we were treated to an assortment of desserts: a very lemony lemon tart, a sampling of three house-made gelati (caramel, torrone, and another flavor we couldn't put our fingers on), and an impossibly light and delicious chocolate and almond torte. The standout may have been the namesake zeppoli, looking just like small hole-less donuts, dusted in sugar and served with a chocolate-caramel dipping sauce. They were amazingly light and irresistible - if they put a drive-thru window in and start selling them by the sack, they could give Dunkin' Donuts a run for their money, even in Jersey.

Service was very pleasant, though the staff may need a little more time to get settled (a bottle of wine opened and left unpoured; some who-ordered-what pointing necessary when the mains were served). This is a minor quibble, though, and did not detract from our experience. The one thing I will say that though I think the portion sizes are ideal (not too big), they may be a touch on the small side for the price. The apps are all reasonable, but $19 for what I think was five or six (admittedly large) gnocchi and $29 for my not-particularly-large steak seemed a little high. I'm really not complaining; more of an observation, because given how satisfied we were with the quality of the food, there was no buyer's remorse. Update: word is that portions sizes have been upped a little. Investigating this is as good of an excuse as any for a return trip!

So I gladly give Zeppoli my highest endorsement for Jersey restaurants, the "Worth the Trip" seal of approval. It is not a place for culinary fireworks, but it excels at creating winning flavor combinations and letting the high-quality ingredients do the talking. Like its lighter-than-air namesakes, Zeppoli could be headed into the higher strata of the area's fine-dining atmosphere.

It's a Vegan Coconut Flan

I've arrived at the conclusion that making vegan desserts is like being stuck on Gilligan's Island: coconuts will save your ass every time. Thanks to its creamy texture and pleasing flavor, coconut milk makes a great stand-in for dairy, and its tropical nature makes it easy to pair it with a variety of fruits.

So the next time the Vegan Harlem Globetrotters drop by for dinner, or you're trying to smooth things over between Ginger and Mary Ann, try out this dessert based on a recipe by The Professor Dr. Andrew Weil. Compared to the original, I upped the coconut quotient by using coconut milk instead of generic non-dairy milk, and paired it with a little pineapple-lime-ginger mixture. Should be ready in less than three hours! I'll stop now.

To be fair, this is not a 100% convincing vegan dessert. You can, to some extent, taste its constituent ingredients. But overall, it has a nice taste and not a bad texture, and if your guests aren't paying attention they may not notice its vegan-ness. The only trouble I had with this was bubbles remaining trapped in the flan as it set. I'm not sure what to do about this, other than more gentle blending, perhaps.

Syrup:

5 tablespoons brown sugar

3 tablespoons water

1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

Flan:

1/2 package soft tofu

2 tablespoons sugar

1 tablespoon of syrup (above)

Coconut extract to taste (1/4 to 1/2 teaspoon)

Pinch salt

1 can coconut milk, plus half a can's worth of water

1 1/2 tablespoons agar agar, or 3/4 teaspoons agar powder

Place tofu, sugar, coconut extract and salt in your blender. Make the syrup by combining the brown sugar, water and vanilla in a saucepan and heating over low heat until it boils. Boil for five minutes, then add one tablespoon of the syrup to the blender, and divide the remaining syrup among 6-10 cups or ramekins. Swirl the syrup around the ramekins to coat.

Add the coconut milk and agar to the same saucepan and boil over high heat for five minutes (if it foams up too much, take off the heat for a minute). Add this mixture to the blender and blend carefully until smooth. Pour the mixture into the ramekins, cover with plastic wrap and cool in the fridge until set.

When it's time to serve, run a knife or small icing spatula around the inside of each ramekin, place a plate on top, invert, and pray that it comes out.

Serve as-is, or pair with something tropical, like diced pineapple with lime zest and ginger. Mango with ginger and maybe some black pepper would be interesting as well. Enjoy!

Road Trip: Montréal

It has recently come to our attention that places other than Philly have food, restaurants, and the like. To investigate, we headed north of the border (inevitably in the slowest customs line) to that little slice of Francophone Europe in North America: Quebec. Montreal, specifically. The only other time I'd been there was in the winter, and unless you like frostbite and getting your tongue stuck to telephone poles, a word of advice: DO NOT GO TO MONTREAL IN THE WINTER.

Anyway, being blessed with gorgeous weather, we arrived and paid a visit to one of Lauren's former co-workers who is a Montreal native and now lives smack in the middle of the very historical and somewhat touristy Vieux Montreal neighborhood. We lucked out because there was a fireworks show that night, and her roof was a great vantage point. A most gracious host, she told us the best places to get two of the more well-known Montreal delicacies. After the fireworks, and getting close to midnight, we went out in search of bagels.

One $10 cab ride later we arrived at Fairmount Bagels, one of the two 24-hour bakeries (along with St-Viateur) vying for Montreal bagel supremacy. Even at this late hour, workers behind the counter were using absurdly long paddles to shuffle the bagels in and out of the wood-fired oven, and the bready delights were piling up, presumably headed for shops all around the city.

We got a bagel each and a tub of cream cheese and sat down on the bench outside. Shortly after finishing those, we were back inside buying another half-dozen to take back to the room.

Montreal bagels are different in that the hole is much larger than the typical bagel. They're also boiled in honey water, which imparts a slight sweetness to them. Though the classic flavor is sesame, we both really liked the "tout garni", which is like an everything bagel but with even more everything on it: sesame, poppy, onion, cumin seed, caraway, and I'm not even sure what else. Perhaps more remarkable was the Liberté brand cream cheese, which has a much more distinct cultured "tang" to it than good ol' Philadelphia. It made a great match with the bagels.

The second tip we got from our Montreal insider was to head to Schwartz's for a viande fumée, or smoked meat, sandwich. I had heard about this place in the course of my pre-trip research, but I was skeptical of it being one of those tourist-oriented joints that coasts by on reputation. Luckily, this was not the case.

Since it was just a short walk from our room, I grabbed a sandwich for take-out. Just as well, because even at barely 5:00 on a Sunday, the place was packed. Lauren doesn't like mustard, so I wanted to get some on the side, but the (somewhat acerbic) counter person said that they don't do that. Oh well. A few minutes later I was walking out the door with a greasy paper bag in my hand and a smile on my face.

Man. Great stuff. Like pastrami, but better: spicer, savorier, more melt-in-the-mouth tender. Even without the mustard, one of the best sandwiches I've ever had. Go there. You may be tempted to take one of the whole briskets sitting in the front window home with you, though good luck driving home with that aroma wafting through your car.

If you're interested in DIY dining, the Atwater Market is a great place to visit. Outside, there are produce stalls and scores of flower vendors, making it a nice place to stroll along and see some of Canada's native wildlife.

The inside portion has bakers, cheesemongers, and butchers featuring some really awesome-looking stuff. We stopped by one morning to assemble a picnic for the afternoon: cantaloupe, some jambon cru from Cochons Toutes Rondes (a little salty), some nice looking tomatoes, a cheese that turned out to be somewhat unremarkable (just our bad luck), and of course a baguette.

Since it was strawberry season in Quebec and the berries were piled high, we also got this attractive display to take home.

Finally, there was one more thing that I knew I couldn't leave Montreal without trying: poutine. Though its etymology is disputed, one interpretation is that it means "mess", and this is an apt description. At its base, it's a pile of fries topped with gravy and cheese curds. At the recommendation of a co-worker, we went to Resto La Banquise to give it a shot. I was surprised that La Banquise was a pleasant, upscale-diner-type spot, having expected such a maniacal creation to come from the depths of some dive bar or greasy spoon. So here it is, the Poutine Rachel, which has sauteed onions, peppers and mushrooms in addition to the rest of the mess:

This is something I just didn't quite "get". The fries were good, impressively non-greasy ... the cheese curds gave some textural interest, but not a lot of flavor ... and the gravy was just sort of bland. It wasn't at all unpleasant, but it wasn't as outrageously good as you'd expect the combo to be. Personally I would have loved a richer-tasting gravy on them, but I don't think that's how it's done. Oh well.

We had a great time up in Montreal, and if you're anywhere near the border, I'd recommend a trip. Aside from the food, there are some great sights to see, and it's a nice town with pockets of European flair – a nice escape from being American that doesn't require a plane ride. Now to arrange a FedEx smoked meat delivery ...

Review: Opa

As delicious as Greek food sounds, I must admit that I've never been to a Greek place that truly blew me away and made me eager to come back. I was hoping that Hellenic newcomer Opa on Sansom Street would buck this trend. Despite everything being pretty decent, I'm afraid the food ended up not being anything worth smashing plates about.

The interior of the place, situated right off the now-bustling 13th Street corridor, is neat and contemporary: a blue-painted ceiling with exposed ductwork, one wall covered in a decorative metal structure in the shape of hundreds of circles, and a modern bar in the middle. From this bar came the Portokali, a cocktail of vodka, blood orange and ouzo. Though the anisey flavor of the ouzo came through, it didn't dominate, and the cocktail had a nice balance, even if it could have been served a bit more chilled.

The menu is broken down into mezedes (smaller plates) and entrees. We decided to make a meal out of four of the mezedes. First to arrive was the Horiatiki, basically a Greek salad with tomatoes, cucumbers, red onions, olives and feta. The feta was the highlight – very creamy and not too crumbly or salty. The rest of the salad was fine, but a fairly deep puddle in the bottom of the dish told me it was way overdressed. Unfortunately much of the surplus dressing made it onto our plates, where it remained, since we didn't get our plates changed out following this drippy course (really the only misstep of the otherwise very nice service).

In contrast, the grilled octopus suffered from the opposite problem in my opinion: too dry. Though served with a "chickpea fondue" (really stewed chickpeas in tomato, studded with coriander seeds and other spices), the octopus itself just didn't have enough moisture to be truly enjoyable. The charred flavor was nice, but a drizzle of olive oil and/or a squeeze of lemon would have really made it more pleasurable to eat.

The "Spread Pikilia" was a trio of three dips: hummus, tzatziki, and tirokafteri, served with pita triangles, olives, and oddly enough, spears of raw zucchini for dipping. The very thick hummus was initially interesting thanks to the addition of some smoked paprika to the dip, but it quickly grew somewhat boring to eat. The tzatziki was fine, with a nice dill flavor, but I think the standout was the tirokafteri. Made with feta cheese, this thinner dip came on strong with a pronounced sharp, salty flavor, then revealed some red peppery sweetness and hot-pepper spiciness as it lingered in the mouth. I found this to be the most interesting thing we ate at Opa.

Lastly, three mini-gyros, presented wrapped in paper. The only thing to note about these is that the meat is grilled lamb and not the usual shaved-log-of-ground-meats.

We didn't have time for dessert, which is just as well because they were already out of baklava at around 7:15 on a Saturday night.

Though I'm not really eager to go back to Opa for dinner, it might be an interesting place to have a drink and a few bites. There were some other attractive cocktails on the menu, and their list of almost exclusively Greek wines, including the pine-scented Retsina, would make for unique drinking. Though it's not Greek, I'd have to say if you're looking for cuisine from that general part of the world, you'd be better off a few blocks southeast at Kanella, where a bit more passion comes through in the cooking.

The With Love Beer Garden

The With Love Beer Garden furnished two beer tickets and a food ticket to this reviewer.

In case the throngs of suds-addled folks ambling down the street haven't tipped you off, it's Beer Week here in Philly. The problem I find with Beer Week is that it's all so overwhelming. Wouldn't it be nice if there was a place to take your mind off all this stress, a place where you could, well, relax and have a beer?

Thankfully, there is such a place now, and it's in the courtyard of just about the swankiest hotel in town, the Four Seasons. Nestled between the hotel and an office building just off of 18th Street, the With Love Beer Garden is a welcoming spot with cold brews, hot food, live music, and a friendly vibe. I had the chance to stop by on opening day to check it out.

A most pleasant scene

First things first: the beer. Monday's featured brewer was Victory. To be honest, their very hoppy, sometimes very alcoholic beers are not always to my taste, but luckily their lighter Summer Love Ale was available. Though it still packed a flavorful punch, it didn't overwhelm with too much alcohol or hoppage, so it was a nice thing to drink on a warm June day. For me, the highlights of the upcoming schedule seem to be Thursday and Friday, when the Garden will play host to Sly Fox and Yards/Stoudt's, respectively.

On the food side of things, there's a nice array of large-snack-size offerings, from a "Philly slider" (featuring a slice of Taylor pork roll) to wings and shrimp tacos. I tried the "Port Richmond Kielbasa", a substantial piece of grilled sausage served on a slightly bready roll with grilled onions and mustard.

Another treat was furnished by one of the fabulous Berley brothers of Franklin Fountain fame - a (local) strawberry ice cream further enriched by the addition of some of the unfermented wort from the Summer Love ale. Maybe it was because I had just had a few of the Summer Loves myself, but I didn't taste much beery flavor in the ice cream, though I will say it was delicious nonetheless (and free!).

Oh, and what's this? An appearance by the star of Beer Week, the Hammer of Glory itself. Some people posed for photos with it, but I didn't feel right disturbing it. Shhh!

So cute! ^_^

If you're in the area, the weather is cooperative, and you're looking for a relaxing place to enjoy an al fresco bite and a brew, check out the With Love Beer Garden. You can tell everyone you dined at the Four Seasons, but without the expense or the embarrassment when the waiter informs you that wings are not on the Fountain's regular menu, and could you please put away that beer cozy.

The Cheese Experiment

UPDATE: Unfortunately, we're not going to be able to make it. But you should still go and check out the event and have a cheesy good time.

Attention, fans: we will be participating in this Sunday's Philadelphia edition of the Food Experiments. The theme is cheese, and we have been hard at work in the I'll Eat You kitchens trying to perfect our highly experimental recipe, which attempts to violate the Principles of Science Themselves. Will we taste the creamy yet sharp tang of victory, or will we wallow in the rubbery, bland Velveeta of defeat? Come on down to the World Cafe Live at noon and find out!

Adventures in Suspiciously Cheap Meat

Yes, we will freely admit it: we shop at Aldi.

Not for everything, but it's a great place to get a very good price on many staple items (like butter, eggs, tomato paste, and some decent oranges). For those who haven't been, Aldi is a deep-discount grocery store with no shelves and scarcely any cashiers. Pretty much everything is a store brand, only cash and debit cards are accepted, and you have to deposit a quarter to release a shopping cart. But, if dispensing with many of the niceties of other supermarkets means 37¢ yogurts and butter for $2.69 a pound, we'll live with it. We do have standards though, of course, and we try to steer clear of their heavily processed, corn-syrup-addled prepared foods, and we wouldn't really buy meat from there.

But.

There is an item at Aldi so ridiculously cheap, so vexingly mis-priced, that I couldn't resist its allure anymore. It's the $1.79 bacon-wrapped filet mignon.

Individually sealed for your protection, this cylinder of bargain beef is augmented with a "solution" that I suppose is meant to lend a little extra flavor to the steak, though I suspect its presence has at least something to do with getting the weight of each package up to the billed five ounces.

Mmm, solution

I made sure to pat it dry before throwing it in a hot grill pan.

Fifteen minutes or so later, the bacon was reasonably cooked and the filet was a touch below medium rare. Doesn't look so bad, does it?

The parsley classes it up

With no small amount of apprehension, I dug in. Based on my dining evidence, here are my hypotheses on why this piece of steak cost so little:

1. God only knows where it came from.
2. "Solution."
3. Though cunningly connived into a filet-like shape thanks to the bacon, my piece (at least) was not a solid cut of tenderloin, but rather two split pieces of tip or end that were bound together. At least I can be thankful they didn't use meat glue to hold it together.

It's two steaks in one!

So how did it taste? Well, the bacon wasn't bad. Baking rather than grill-panning would have crisped it up a bit more. The flavor of the meat, though, I can only describe as "bologna-like". This is no doubt attributable to the overzealous flavor stylings of the Solution: all the spice, while being pleasant enough in the "tasty food" sense, obscured the "delicious beef" flavor that a good steak has. And given the likely provenance of this beef, I'm not sure how much of that flavor would have been there to begin with.

While my curiosity was certainly satisfied by finally trying this item, I can't say that my desire for big steak flavor was. But at $1.79, cheaper per serving than, well, pretty much any other meat I can think of, it presents an interesting monetary value proposition.

Still, I think I'd have to pass on trying this again. If I want a steak, number one I'm not getting a filet, and number two I'm not going to mess around. Aside from the questionable taste, the ethical ramifications of meat this cheap make me a little queasy. So, my curiosity satisfied, I will leave the Cattlemen's Ranch in the refrigerator case and use all the money I save buying everything else at Aldi to save up for a real decent steak every now and then.

Review: The Farmer's Cabinet

Wood, barrels, slate, candles, more wood, jars, stuffed animal heads, benches. Darkness. Walking into The Farmer's Cabinet is almost like entering some kind of pre-industrial dining hall. You check your wallet and find only credit cards – will they even accept these, or are they expecting me to pay for my meal via bartering a gaggle of geese or a fine pelt or two?

For all its rustic charm, the Cabinet is modern in one way: with a beer list that is seriously impressive, verging on baffling. I honestly don't know how many drafts and bottles they have available, but I do know that I have maybe heard of about one in 20 of them before. Lots of beers from Italy, from Denmark, from countries you didn't even know made beer – where and how do they even get it? So if you're into beer, study the menu hard before you come, or have faith in either the recommendations of your server or Lady Luck that you'll find suds that tickle your fancy.

On our visit, seated at the long communal table that dominates the main dining area, we had a Scottish ale called Cock of the Walk (the current firkin offering) while contemplating our dining choices. Very similar to a Jose Garces restaurant, the Cabinet's menu is broken down into traditional appetizers/small plates, shared apps "for the table", some salads, cheeses and charcuterie, traditional mains, and some family-style options. Though there are a few veggie options among the main dishes, meat, and especially game, dominates the menu.

First, we had the fried sweetbreads with tuna crudo and caper aioli, a dish that evoked some sort of mayonnaise-sauced tuna sushi roll once you got past the tasty, tender fried sweetbreads. A somewhat exotic combination that worked well, although it probably didn't need the huge volume of aioli that streaked the plate. A cheese fondue was creamy and delicious, with a slight bitter edge.

The house-made charcuterie was hit-and-miss. The duck ham was pretty magnificent, supple and smokey, but the "lamb prosciutto" was rather more salty and gamey than I would have liked, and it was served not thinly sliced but practically hacked into chunky slabs.

Although they were planning on trying some of the sandwiches, our dining companions could not resist the "what's he having?" lure of the Flintstones-sized buffalo short rib that was set down at the party next to us, so they both ordered it as their mains. Topped with shredded horseradish and set on a copious mound of sunchoke puree, the meat was somewhat unremarkable in flavor, but one of our servers was good enough to wrap up the spent bones for our friends to take home to their dog.

I had the rabbit, which was served two ways: braised (giant) leg portions served over a Greek yogurt-enriched polenta with cherries, and a spice-rubbed loin served over a white chocolate and carrot puree. Though the leg meat was ample and tasty, the dish was not without its flaws: the loin was a bit tough; the carrot/white chocolate sauce was a bit too sweet; and the whole dish really could have been served hotter. Lauren's skate entree had similarly disappointing elements, with the floury taste of the dredging standing out too much against the flavor of the fish, and the green tomato "frites" not having a great deal of flavor.

Desserts were pretty decent: the highlight of the apple crisp was the home-made ice cream served on top of it (they thoughtfully brought more of it out beyond the original small amount that came with the giant crisp), and spiked cherries and chantilly cream lightened up a whiskey sour cake. Service was very capable and not at all rushed despite a packed house.

The Farmer's Cabinet is no doubt a welcome addition to Walnut Street, particularly when it comes to the drinking scene (I didn't even get into the cocktails), but my impression is that food-wise, the main courses don't offer anything worth coming back for. I'd love to make this a regular place for some interesting beer and perhaps a few apps, but the entrees seem to be a case of the executions not living up to the concepts. I would almost like to see the purees and sauces and smashes toned down a bit, perhaps honoring the rustic conceit more by really developing flavors in the source ingredients and making them shine more on their own.