The Making of a Chef
Oct 8, 2008 books, general food, reviews
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Finally I have finished reading Michael Ruhlman’s The Making of a Chef: Mastering Heat at the Culinary Institute. Favorite quotes are highlighted, the dust jacket has been replaced, and it is with sadness–because it is over–that I have returned it to the gastronomy section of my bookshelf. How I hadn’t read the book until now escapes me; especially so in that I’ve owned it for a very long time. My guess is that it had something to do with its having come out shortly after Becoming a Chef. At the time I was a cook, and I can recall reading in several places, as well as hearing word-of-mouth, that it was in some way a lesser version of that book but that’s simply not the case. It has held up far greater than Becoming a Chef which covers only the culinary growth of several celebrity chefs. Their stories are not normal, however, and the view Ruhlman gives us instead is
. Favorite quotes are highlighted, the dust jacket has been replaced, and it is with sadness–because it is over–that I have returned it to the gastronomy section of my bookshelf. How I hadn’t read the book until now escapes me; especially so in that I’ve owned it for a very long time. My guess is that it had something to do with its having come out shortly after Tags: Michael Ruhlman
The new it’s what’s for dinner: Goat
May 5, 2008 St. Louis, missouri, restaurants, reviews
Besides the 24oz aged porterhouse of affluence and his friends the pork and lamb chop, apart from a couple other cuts like racks and shanks, bones in America are pretty much relegated to barbecue and fried chicken. Maybe it’s that we don’t like to be reminded of the cavemen-like reality that we’re ripping an animal’s flesh from the legs it once walked on or the sternum that had previously contained its pulsating heart? More likely, though, it’s that we’re just lazy and we don’t like having to work that hard.
Whatever the reason, in many ethnic restaurants, the bones have been thoughtfully removed from native dishes to appeal to America’s cultural leanings. Where a true Chinese dish might contain a roasted bone in duck breast cleaved into gnarly chunks which beg to be grabbed with both hands so you can tear the muscle away, they’ve instead been substituted by the boneless and carefully sliced chopstick-ready stand-ins of the west.
The suggestion here is that if you seek the foods that represent the truer culinary heritage of a given country, look for the bones. Sometimes the cuts are literally things Americans wouldn’t consume believing them to be substandard, but more often they are simply a bone-in butchering we’re not accustomed to–like a pork steak in California.
Slipping into Tam Tam African Restaurant a few weeks ago I had two such dishes on my mind. We’d not been since December and on those visits we had found that certain time consuming dishes were available only on Saturdays. Both I had eagerly wanted to try
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Tags: African, ethnic restaurants, Florissant, goat, North County, Nyama Choma, Tam Tam African Restaurant
Niche Tasting Menu
Feb 22, 2008 chefs, offal watch, restaurants, reviews
 Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night stays these courageous couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.
Of course in the case of Ellie and I we’ll call it sleet; and in place of couriers we’ll call ourselves diners; and instead of appointed rounds there was the fact that after we both got sent home from work early because the weather was bad, I realized we could walk into any restaurant we wanted in St. Louis and have our pick of seats. And so we went to Niche to have the new tasting menu because hey–Mathew put the kulfi on the menu, and in the back of my mind I believe he did it for me (even if he didn’t really). |
Tags: bonito flakes, Cauliflower, celeriac, Gerard Craft, Kulfi, lardo, lobster, Mathew Rice, Niche, Pigs Head, tapioca, Veruca, wine
Maybe Faraci’s is for you, but it’s not for me
Dec 20, 2007 restaurants, reviews
I am not the first one to say this–not by a long shot–but not being from St. Louis I have always been incredibly under whelmed by St. Louis style pizza. The way the provel melts into the sauce leaving it oozy and weeping is, to me, completely unappetizing–bordering on disgusting–even by comparison to the rubbery mozzarella other pizza places pawn off as real mozzarella.
However, I will confess, that every so often, one of the mom and pop places will throw a ripple into my hatred, and more often than not, it’s because the crust is homemade, and done so well that the thin crust is beautifully browned and crisp and accounts for a large portion of the pizza’s overall flavor.
Pirrone’s in Florissant is one of these places. I was first drug there during college on a route so convoluted that I never had any idea where it was until I happened upon it after moving to Florissant. Rolled out by hand their crust is so crisp and flavorful that it stands up to the sog-inducing goo of the provel-pizza sauce one-two, and it has a really distinctive grainy flavor that completely makes the pizza.
But it’s not Pirrone’s I’m here to talk about.
If you’re a runner you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about, and if you’re not, I’m about to inform you.
When you run great distances you get tired of running the same routes over and over again. The Garmin running GPS is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to runners because it gave us the ability to just run–run in any direction we want–without a care in the world as to where it is we’re running for in the end we will always know approximately how far we’ve gone.
Because of this, I’ve probably run on almost every street within a 5 mile radius of my home, and on some of those runs I’ve discovered places like the now gone Papagallo’s Greek restaurant. It’s slim pickings in Florissant and we went there often because they had the best baklava I’ve ever had, and they even put pastitsio on the menu specifically for Ellie.
Another I found was Roberto’s. During summer, deep in the midst of tossing Friday and Saturday night pizzas, the cooks will sometimes have the back door swung open to offer some relief to the inferno of deck ovens on high. When the winds are just right, from a quarter mile away the smell is so enticing you can’t help but think something magical is happening inside.
And here’s the point…
One day I realized if I meandered from home over to Florissant Road, it was a perfect 15 mile run if I ran to UMSL and back. So for about the last year, each time I need a long run and don’t have time to start someplace other than home, I’ve used this route. Doing so I’ve run by a handful of restaurants that visually looked worth checking out like Cosa Dolce bakery. But better still, some had such a wonderful scent they would completely ruin the second half of my run by making it miserable because I was so damned hungry.
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Faraci’s was one of the latter, and Friday we finally got in the car and drove over to Ferguson to have a taste for ourselves. In a word, it was terrible. I apologize in advance if you actually love Faraci’s because, from what I gather online, there is apparently a group of people that think this is the finest St. Louis style pizza there is.
Personally, their bland pizza sauce tasted like nothing more than thinned out tomato paste. Coupled with the oozing provel, it turned the crust into something that resembled–not to mention tasted like–wet soggy cardboard; which threw me because visually it had an airy saltine quality to it (though minus the salt) that left me thinking it would be flaky and crisp.
And the salad, it made the pizza look wonderful. Even by iceberg standards it was atrociously bad as the house vinaigrette was more of a house vegetable oil.
But here’s the thing that really freaked me out: I am fully aware that sanitary and dirty are two different words. So while Faraci’s is a bit on the dingy side, it doesn’t mean the place is necessarily unsanitary. However, when the owner is smoking at a table in the restaurant and proceeds to walk into the kitchen cigarette in hand, it does not instill confidence in any way–not to mention the cook smoking at the table one minute and making pizza thirty seconds later.
We will definitely not be going back, and this is too bad, I thought I’d found a hidden gem in my neck of the woods.
The count remains at four (places worth eating at in the Florissant area).
Tags: Faracis, St.-Louis-Style-Pizza
Veruca Day One
Dec 17, 2007 chefs, coffee, restaurants, reviews
A Veruca cheat sheet:
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Tropicala cupcakes; if you don’t buy one, I’m done with you.
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Currant scones for breakfast rock!
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…but financiers and mini cupcakes do not make a balanced breakfast.
When Mathew Rice told me a couple weeks ago that Veruca would be opening last Wednesday, I was disappointed I wouldn’t be able to go on opening day because, living in Florissant, I have no reason to be in Benton Park on a Wednesday. But, I’d forgotten about the Slow Food meeting at the Tap Room, and as the post-work drive downtown went much easier than expected, I did have time to check it out after all.
I bought literally one of everything he had on hand. My hope was that I’d share at the meeting, but with almost twice as many people as usual, I instead shared with Mike, his girlfriend Irene and Ellie only. (Sorry Slow Food people)
Currently cupcakes are the main focus, but Veruca wisely avoids calling themselves a cupcake bakery knowing that just like the fad, places with “cupcake” in their names will one day die. Regular sized cupcakes are $4.00 and minis are a somewhat steep $1.50.
Day one, Mathew is serving four:
Eggnog Spice, Tropicala, Peanut Butter Cup, Red Velvet (clockwise from the upper left).
The Tropicala was by far the favorite. It’s a toasted coconut yellow cake stuffed with lime curd (which Mathew stresses “goes all the way down”) and a passion fruit buttercream. If you’re a fan of tart desserts like lemon tarts (hah!) or key lime pie, I don’t see how you couldn’t love this too because it’s incredibly moist, incredibly tart, and incredibly delicious. It’s easily the best of the kicked-up cupcakes I’ve had in St. Louis bakeries, and I’m not just saying that because I like Mathew (though I do).
The other unusual flavor was the eggnog spice which consisted of a crystallized ginger spice cake and eggnog buttercream. I know this because Mathew writes what’s in the boxes, on the boxes, by hand…or at least he did for me.
Ellie wouldn’t eat it because she doesn’t like eggnog, but Mike and I really dug it. We both loved the flavor of the cake which was, well, spicy; kind of like a kicked up coffeecake.
As a side note, I’d bought two Eggnogs as it was the one I’d most wanted to try, and I can tell you it held up nicely when I ate it a second time after work the following day. The only thing that had altered slightly was the buttercream, which was a little crisp, but that’s kind of unavoidable in the world of day old cupcakes.
The red velvet, Mathew tells me, is a recipe his Mom and Grandmother used to make. He really lit up when he told me this because he thinks it’s the best red velvet cake he’s ever had, and he seems especially proud of it. I can’t fairly comment as I’m not a red velvet man, but it’s Mike’s favorite cake, and while I was going to let him comment on it, I’m apparently going to have to buy another one for him because he was apparently too many Schlafly’s in to remember anything beyond “I enjoyed it.”
For me, it was the only one that was maybe a touch dry. Mathew had snuck a couple minis into my solo eggnog box, however, and when I ate them with breakfast the next day; it was awesome because it was the perfect combination of cake to buttercream ensuring moisture.
The Peanut Butter Cup was pretty straightforward: chocolate cake, peanut butter buttercream. It was good, but my favorite of this flavor combo is still The Cupcakery’s because it was so overwhelmingly peanut-buttery, and I love peanut butter.
Besides cupcakes, and a full lineup of espresso drinks courtesy of their Rancilio and Chauvin, Veruca is also rocking out breakfast pastries; delicious breakfast pastries that left me thinking I had no need for silly cupcakes.
Financier w/ Cranberry Jam, Cranberry Spice Muffin, Currant Scone (clockwise from the upper left).
The currant scone is the best I’ve ever had from a bakery.
What I love about a good scone is the way that mostly, it’s kind of savory, but with subtle sweetness that lingers in the background just enough to make you think “is there sugar in this?” and realize that yes there is rather than something like the Bread Company version that leaves you thinking “whoa, there’s a lot of sugar in this!”
Basically, if I wanted a cake, I’d buy a cake, and I find most scones to be too moist, too dry, too sweet, or too cakey. This one fell perfectly in the middle of all those grievances meaning that now, when I want a real scone, I finally know where I can get one.
Skipping my usual breakfast of Optimum Power cereal, the following morning I polished off the scone along with the financier, the mini-cupcakes and the muffin.
It was a solid financier for sure, but overall it’s not one of my favorite desserts because I find it a bit sweet for my tastes (especially at 6AM). I loved the cranberry jam though because, like the scone, it wasn’t overwhelmingly sweet which meant the true tartness of the cranberries came through. Also, its flavor wasn’t cluttered up with the unnecessary citrus that seems to make its way into virtually anything with cranberries.
Veruca is sure to be a hit, so if you find yourself in the neighborhood, remember: Tropicala, currant scone, careful with breakfast.
Note: As always, please keep in mind that while I believe my opinion to be correct, there are some establishments that I am friendly enough with that my opinion is personally biased. This is one.
Tags: Benton-Park, cupcakes, Mathew Rice, Tropicala, Veruca
MoKabe’s Coffeehouse
Why in 2007 an establishment that bothers to have a non-smoking section situates it in such a manner that you have to walk through the smoking section to get to it I will never understand. And that’s exactly what happened before taking this picture after making it safely to the non-smoking side of MoKabe’s Coffeehouse on Friday.
When you belly up to their counter to place your java order you do so through gasps of smoke filled air. The barista will then proceed to foam milk and poor it into a glass followed by the shots of espresso rather than the other way around. They will then ring you up, and as their last trick, follow your payment by hovering a hand under a little hole they have cut out of the counter where they chide you into tipping. Apparently the vibe they’re going for is: “if you don’t tip you’re not cool enough to be here.”
And just what the hell is that picture? Amazingly it’s a cappuccino. Even more amazingly they put the spoon in it themselves when serving it to me as if it were a root beer float. Kinda looks like one, no?
Shockingly, MoKabe’s wins best coffeehouse all the time. I can only hope it’s the liberal vibe people are applauding and not the coffee. Call me crazy, but when a business slaps the words “coffeehouse” on the side of the building, and then proceeds to win “best coffeehouse,” I think it’s fair to assume they’ll have at least a passable cappuccino. MoKabe’s does not.
Unequivicably the worst I have ever been handed; the hipster baristas hovering hand grabbed nothing more than a handful of air after which I quickly decided I wasn’t cool enough for MoKabe’s and left.
Sadly, it was not before my one brave sip verified my assumption and I made one last detour — to the bathroom to pour it out!
Tags: cappuccino, MoKabes-Coffeehouse
Extra Virgin, An Olive Ovation
Nov 26, 2007 cooking, groceries, reviews
Lately I’ve been looking for a more full bodied olive oil with a a bit more spiciness than the Yellingbo I keep on hand. Shopping online, several times I’d had an oil in the cart ready to buy, but because some of the really fine olive oils cost considerably more than what I’m used to spending, I couldn’t bring myself to pull the trigger without knowing how it tasted.
The local solution to my dilemma of course is Extra Virgin, An Olive Ovation — cruising through Clayton yesterday I remembered to swing by and have a look.
As you would suspect, olive oil is the main event at Extra Virgin, but there are also cured olives, a selection of high end vinegars, olive tree made cooking utensils, and a few other kitchen related items for the cook with everything needing more.
Definitely the coolest thing about the store is the “tasting bar” where you can sample about 30 olive oils which represent almost every oil in the store. Laid out around a curved counter in what appear to be soap dispensers, it’s the first thing that hits you when you step in. The oils are arranged from lightest (left) to strongest (right), and owner Marianne Prey’s suggestion is to squirt two pumps into the small paper cups available and sling it back unadorned to appreciate the oils true flavor. If you find this a little overwhelming there is also bread for you to sample with, but I agree you won’t get the full effect this way.
As I sampled oils a couple women must have had stomachs of lead because I watched them throw back at least 3 tablespoons of olive oil a piece – very impressive! 120 calories per tablespoon aside, I couldn’t taste more than about one tablespoon worth before my stomach was starting to get a little shaky.
Fortunately I knew what I was looking for and was able to avoid about the first 20 oils from the get go. Ruling out a few more do to their expense, I sampled about five total and quickly settled on the DanDaragan Estate extra virgin olive oil. It has a really interesting fruity sweetness that hits you when you first take a sip; followed by a bit of that burning spiciness I was looking for in the finish.
Another oil I loved was Pons Primum Oleum. If you’re cooking for a family I highly recommend it, but do to its impressively large bottle, I knew I’d never get through it before it went bad. It does seem a little pricey, but considering it’s 1.5L and a normal bottle is only about 1/2L it’s not so bad.
Which brings me to another point: one of my main concerns about the store when I first heard it was opening was that, do to its location, the prices would need to be a little steep to pay for things like rent. At $28.50, the DanDaragan is certainly not a cheap olive oil, but a little Googling once home showed it was fairly priced. It was around $22 online before shipping.
Overall I’m still skeptical as to whether or not St. Louis will manage to sustain this store, but if like me you’ve always found it difficult to spend a lot of money on a bottle of olive oil you haven’t tasted, it’s worth a visit. It really is a neat store.
Tags: An-Olive-Ovation, DanDaragan, extra-virgin-olive-oil, Pons-Primum-Oleum, Yellingbo
Lunch at Sycamore – Columbia, MO
Nov 21, 2007 beer, restaurants, reviews, trips
There are a few things I didn’t get to over the past few months so travel back in time with me as I cover a little lost ground Nakamura style.
From Mastodon to moe., and all points in between, over the years I’ve been to far more than a handful of concerts at The Blue Note in Columbia, MO. For years, each time I arrived with little time on my hands, I’d peer into the windows of Trattoria Strada Nova and quietly say to myself “someday” before scurrying across the street to Ninth Street Deli or Bangkok Gardens short of the necessary finances and time to do so.
Unfortunately the only someday that came was that someday most good things come to an end. With business apparently faltering, the Trattoria was non più. I’d missed my chance.
But then through the grapevine known as Chowhound I heard that the “good chef,” Mike Odette, had rounded the corner opening up a spacious new restaurant called Sycamore at the corner of Broadway and Eighth. Specializing in local seasonal food, Sycamore, like 222 Artisan Bakery, is the kind of place you step into and wonder how it ended up where it is in the first place. With a section of about 6 tables just inside the front windows, my quick gazes while passing by never yielded a real grasp for the restaurants size. Once inside, however, it’s an absolutely enormous space, and frankly, really cool.
Three to four times as long as it is wide, the restaurant seems even larger do to the high ceilings. Along with the warm color scheme, the floors, a combination of wood and vintage looking tile, reminded me of an old drug store soda fountain and gave the restaurant a familiar welcoming feel. A well stocked bar runs briefly down the right side before the room narrows and you find yourself looking at the seemingly mandatory open kitchen in back.
Making the kitchen especially unique, it is also elevated up a short flight of stairs so that everyone in the restaurant can easily see it. On the side of the line facing the restaurant a short bookshelf is lined with cookbooks obviously tattered by cooks and chefs scouring for inspiration — which did not go overlooked. For me a kitchen with cookbooks is one where the staff is always interested in learning; understanding that no matter how great a cook you are, there is always room for growth, and there is always someone better. Sycamore it would seem, gets it.
Seated in the narrow section of the restaurant near the kitchen, we looked over the menu making our final selections as the scent of a kitchen deep into their Friday morning prep work wafted into the dining room from the elevated kitchen. The unmistakable smell of bacon roasting in the oven, the perfume of grilling onions as they caramelized slowly making them something better than before, and the sound of cold butter hitting a hot pan; its scent signaling its change from yellow to brown confirmed even before a bite was taken, that good food was being cooked here.
The lunch menu at Sycamore is made up of salads, soups, sandwiches, and a handful of lighter lunch entrees. Also listed is an option of 1/2 a sandwich & any side item for only $6.25. Although I don’t recall what Ellie had, she wisely made this choice. I however was starved, and having read about their use of Patchwork Farms pork on their website, combined with the heavenly sent of bacon in the air, I knew I had to have a full Peppered Patchwork pork loin and bacon served on focaccia with grilled onions, fontina, sundried tomato mayo and housemade barbeque sauce with a side of fries as soon as I saw it.
Initially I was a little worried that so many flavors might make the sandwich overwhelming. The flavors melded together nicely, however, with the smoke of the bacon and the strong pork flavor of the loin being complimented nicely by the bite of the fontina and the zip of the light-handed addition of barbecue sauce.
At $7.50, it was also incredibly reasonable because it was an absolute monster. A testament to its deliciousness, it was one of those items where you know you should stop eating, but it tastes so good that unless someone physically removes it from your sight, it begs you to keep powering on even though you know you shouldn’t.
The fries were a fit compliment to the sandwich as well. Roof of the mouth searing hot, they were the biggest I’ve ever had by a wide margin.And everything paired nicely with my beer. I’m normally more of a wine man with my upscale dining, but a glance at their beer list quickly changed my mind. Not only do they actually have one, but the beer list at Sycamore is possibly the best I’ve ever seen in a restaurant of this type. It was filled with thoughtful and unusual brews representing some of the finest beers in the world. Listed at an incredibly reasonable $6, I went with the Brasserie des Rocs Triple Impériale Ale. At around 10% ABV you’d expect this Belgian Strong Dark Ale to give an immediate hit of alcohol as you take the first sip, but instead, it’s only somewhat apparent do to the beer’s sweetness. Not cloying in any way, it comes from the punch of funky dried fruit flavors which lingered through the finish. Well played, it was a shockingly good pairing with the sandwich.
We can’t wait to go back for a dinner at Sycamore, and will certainly be making sure to arrive with plenty of pre-concert time from now on.
flickr pictobrowser after the jump
Tags: Columbia, Mike-Odette, MO, Sycamore
Erato, A Tale of Sea Bass
Nov 5, 2007 Illinois, restaurants, reviews
Ian seems to like it, Bonwich felt mostly the same, and Sauce gave their chef an awfully nice write up/interview. Add to that the suggestions by Wayno on Chowhound and Matt at 222, and at last, so as to break up my apparent love letters to 222 Artisan Bakery, I will skip clean over their open house and mention that we got around to something we’d been meaning to do for a long time.
Saturday night we finally went to Erato. And while I must preface this with the fact that it certainly didn’t hurt that Matt slyly called before we headed down to tell Chef Kevin Willmann to take care of us, I’m definitely inclined to agree with all of the above people. There is a clear effort by Erato to raise the bar of St. Louis dining, and although it was a bit of a whirlwind as we were already somewhat stuffed full of pastry when we arrived, I will quickly tell you about our meal.
First we had the Fresh HOUSE MOZZARELLA bruschetta. Simple house made mozzarella was topped with fresh tomatoes and a reduced balsamic drizzle. While I like my bruschetta a little thicker and as a result less crunchy and crostini-like, the house made mozzarella was a nice touch, and brought back memories of my having to make it at Truffles. Theirs was awful, never salted enough, and filled with dried herbs. Kevin’s was really nice. Salt is key when making cheese, and he knows it.
Sweet potato “NACHOS” + blue cheese, hickory back lardoons, & red pepper ketchup were incredibly hearty for what really amounted to a finger food. The ketchup had a bit of a barbecue sauce like flavor as most non-Heinz ketchups generally do and I’m curious to know if it was exclusively red peppers. I didn’t think to ask. Also, I’ve no idea what kind of blue cheese they used, but it was incredibly potent and had a real Roquefort or gorgonzola like grit to it. If you’re not a fan of really strong blue cheese you might be put off by this as it was the dominant flavor followed by the ketchup. Even I, a big fan of strong blue cheeses, felt it would have been perhaps a touch better with a less pungent blue like Point Reyes. Overall though, it was an interesting and fun riff on an American standard and one I’d happily eat again.
Next we had Roasted PEAR, PROSCIUTTO, & Hartland Creamery goats cheese crostini + local mizzuna & balsamic reduction. This was my second favorite thing of the night. I really like the simple clean flavor combination of salty prosciutto and sweet fruit. I wish more people would be confident enough to serve such simple fair. I did feel the pear was maybe a touch undercooked for my personal taste, but it wasn’t like the ridiculously raw one from Lumiere Place at the taste of St. Louis and didn’t particularly detract as they were very flavorful pears. (it’s actually Heartland Creamery though)
Fennel pollen seared SCALLOPS + grilled corn ice cream & bacon dust was the first of the two items that really impressed me as they are a clear indication that Willmann is definitely trying to raise the previously mentioned bar by adding to the mix a little adventure. Ellie really enjoyed the play on hot vs. cold. I’m personally not sold on it, but it had nothing to do with this dish, and more to do with my not quite buying into the hot/cold savory courses just yet. They honestly weird me out a little as the cold immediately brings down the warmth of the hot food so quickly that in my opinion, it takes something away from those elements.
Stepping away from my own prejudice, however, I can definitely say this was well executed. I’ve never knowingly had fennel pollen, and the bacon dust was a thoughtful addition as it incorporated a subtle bacon flavor rather than overwhelming the dish the way many would with bacon bits.
Our last savory dish was the Oven Roasted SEABASS + collard greens & ham hock – cabernet sauce. This alone was worth the drive. I had commented to Ellie when I saw it that I’d decided, when last I had it, that sea bass was probably my favorite fish. If you’ve never had sea bass it is a mild flavored flaky white fish. While that might describe something like halibut too, while halibut has a soft giving texture, sea bass is much firmer offering a lot more bite.
Just as I was asking our server to bring this out for our last item, she said Willmann had already started one for us. Fantastic!
What they failed to mention on the menu –and I don’t know if this was just an addition for our sake as we will eat just about anything– but there was a house made habanero jelly on the rim of the plate. It was, without question, the single hottest thing I have ever eaten in an upscale restaurant. The sensation of the burning heat, followed by the sweetness of the sea bass, and the hearty smoky flavors of the ham hock collard greens was stunning. As you repeated each step — jelly, sea bass, collard greens your mouth was on a roller coaster ride of taste sensations. Ellie doesn’t really do hot food, and try as I might to get her to take the tiniest bite of the habanero jelly, she just wouldn’t do it. She missed out; because this was one of the best things I’ve ever eaten in St. Louis.
Regretfully, we didn’t have room for more than that, as I’d have really liked to try the Missouri LAMB CHOPS + smashed sweet and Yukon Gold potatoes & stone ground mustard demi.
For dessert we shared the gooey chocolate cake with basil ice cream. It was the standard molten chocolate cake that was all the rave in the late nineties. While I find it a bit ho-hum on the whole, there’s was prepared nicely, with the basil ice cream adding an interesting contrast. Plus, when you see the size of the kitchen they’re working out of, you are definitely more than willing to cut them some slack for not pulling all the stops on the desserts.
We look forward to going back.
Here is the 2007.11.03 Erato Menu.
Note: Please keep in mind that while I believe my opinion to be correct, there are some establishments that I am close enough to that my opinion is personally biased. This is one.
Tags: 222 Artisan Bakery, Edwardsville, Erato on Main, Kevin Willmann, Matt Herren
222 Artisan Bakery
Nov 2, 2007 Illinois, coffee, restaurants, reviews
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If you’re unfamiliar, let me tell you a quick story — at least as I understand it:
A man meets a woman in San Francisco. They both go to baking school. They fall in love and move to Seattle to follow their joint-love of coffee. Then, tired of being in the hustle and bustle of the nation’s largest coffee scene, they decide to pack it up and carve out a simpler life for themselves where they could be a greater part of the community back in the girl’s hometown, Edwardsville.
Things start out small. Roasting in a small custom built roaster at their home they begin selling coffee under the name Goshen through local businesses and the local Farmers’ Market. Then they build a wood burning oven and the baked goods quickly gather a following at the market until finally, to the joy of those in the know, they open a storefront in July of 2005.
That shop is 222 Artisan Bakery and in it you can taste perfection.
So, to Matt Heren and Debbie Sultan, I’m sorry I dropped the ball and didn’t post this sooner. And for the rest of you, as words can not fully explain my affection for what Matt, Deb, and their staff do, you’ll have to continue this one after the jump, as there’s lots of pictures.
Tags: 222 Artisan Bakery, bread, Debbie Sultan, Edwardsville, Goshen Coffee, Matt Herren, pastries
From the mountains of Panama and Ethiopia, to the urban-jungles of Portland and Chicago, journalist Michaele Weissman takes us behind the scenes for a look at the world of third-wave specialty coffee. How did we get to Starbucks, and where we go from here?