Mercat a la planxa

Another great Chicago restaurant find is Mercat a la planxa. The chef, Jose Garces won the second season of The Next Iron Chef competition. Let's just say I envy the eating Jeffrey Steingarten is about to undertake.

First up was the Paella Negra with calamari, octopus and chipirones with black rice and octopus tomato salad. Pesky Pescatarian was quite fond of the grilled octopus, and the waiter recommended a grilled octopus special that she would have considered ordering if it weren't for space constraint concerns. I was obsessed with the black rice. I haven't had sepia pasta or rice often, and I'm starting to believe that this makes my life not so complete.


Arguably the best dish of the night, the Sopa de Pesols, which was fresh English pea soup with Goat's Cheese, Pea Ice Cream and shaved black truffle, this was a wonderful hot-cold soup. Alinea has their famous hot potato, cold potato concoction, but there aren't that many versions of this concept out there. I really loved tasting the freshness of spring, coupled with the hot and cold elements mingling together, all mixed in with the earthy seductiveness of the truffle.

If the soup was the best dish, the Albondigas de Venera was the worst dish of the night. The scallop & shrimp meatballs with marinated grapes and shaved Idizabal were boring. The sauce was almost cloyingly sweet and there was nothing exciting either on a flavor or textural front that saved the meatballs. Only the marinated grapes were fun.

The revuelto de Temporada with roasted seasonal mushrooms with soft scrambled eggs, green pea tendrils and fava bean toast was delicious. Ever since that Bayona omelette experience I keep talking about, I've been seeking perfectly cooked eggs, and these finally fit the bill.

The Gratin de Coliflor came out last, and it was too rich for our taste buds at this point. I really like this dish, but it very heavy on hte cream and cheese flavor, which can overwhelm the flavor of the cauliflower itself. Still, on a cold winter's night this would be a great choice to include.

The Croquetas de Xocolata, which were milk chocolate croquettes with banana marshamallow (that's banana-flavored marshmallow for ya), rosemary caramel, and Arbequina olive oil was fantastic. Amazing. At $10 an order a total steal considering the thought, skill, and execution of the dish. The flavor of every element was perceptible to the Pesky Pescatarian, though I had some difficulty with the rosemary and the olive oil. The marshmallow was lightly bruleed and each little dessert "pod" could be enjoyed in a single bite. Mmm mmm good.

Mercat a la planxa, 638 Michigan Ave., Chicago, IL

Cafe Iberico

My second trip to Cafe Iberico was decidedly better than the first. These sweet breads on the special menu were a surprise. Slightly charred on the outside and tender on the inside, they were a good compliment to the accompanying potatoes.

Raxo Adobado (marinated pork loin with homemade fries).

A pork tenderloin dish on the special that was not so good. Too dry.

Spicy potatoes with chorizo.

Patatas Bravas. aka more spicy potatoes. It was not a light dinner to say the least.

Cafe Iberico, 739 N. LaSalle Dr., Chicago, IL

Twisted Tapas: Not Really

You know what's useful in a man? His ability to chow down. I met a new friend in Chicago, and we decided to get tapas on a whim, and I appreciate someone who can go for dinner round 2 late in the evening.

We checked out Twisted in Wrigleyville. It was fine, but not amazing. But seeing as this was one of my first forays into the Chicago restaurant scene outside of the world of deep dish pizzas, I was intrigued.

Twisted doesn't seem to do much to go beyond safe fare, and it doesn't do safe fare well enough to make one jump in her seat. It does do things decently, and it's an acceptable place to venture in a pinch, but I'd rather do more research in the future and find a place where a bit of food makes one's eyes widen with surprise.

I think it's a little weird to call oneself Twisted when none of the tapas are particularly novel. I mean crabcakes isn't a standard tapas dish, but it's not an unusual dish on its own. Adding red pepper aioli does not put one on the wild side of dining. Okay, these bacon wrapped dates are in a roasted red pepper sauce, which is twisted, but more like a weird kind of twisted.

So I've bashed this place a little bit. I had a good time, but mainly because it was fun to try a new restaurant and to do it with someone who could hold his own, which translated into an opportunity for me to try more dishes.

Twisted, 3412 N. Sheffield, Chicago, IL

Going Away Party

In August I decided to hold a going away party for myself, and I cooked up a storm.

I'm always worried that there won't be enough food, and for me, it's the worse thing for someone to leave hungry.

Just looking at all of this food makes me wish I had some of those as leftovers in my fridge right now. Because I have not had much time to cook in the last few days.

My mother's style of Vietnamese spring rolls. They are actually nothing like traditional spring rolls.

I put in fried egg crepe, shrimp, cucumber, bean sprouts (which I painstakingly pulled the ends off of), basil, mint, and vermicelli that I flavored with msg, sugar, salt, and dried Chinese pork.

Roasted fresh corn with feta, roasted tomatoes and cilantro in a simple vinaigrette.

Potato salad with these awesome dill pickles that are so easy to make.

Peach cobbler, this one is mind-numbingly simple. I made it with these white peaches that were a tad juicy. I must say though, I don't understand the addition of warm water to cold butter. I'm with the recipe on the cold butter, just not on the warm water.

Moroccan carrot salad, thank you Mark Bittman. See number 14.

Cool cucumber soup shots. I also had watermelon gazpacho shots.

Caprese skewers. Thank goodness for friends. I called in reinforcements. Both the Bastard Consultant, and someone who I will hereby deem the Dr. Consultant came in to help. They skewered, they peeled, they helped. A lot.

I may have gone a bit overboard on the cream, but I get a little exuberant when making Cajun Shrimp Curry.

All-in-all it was a lot of fun to see people from all the different parts of my life. Stuck out here in the Windy City, I miss all of them dearly.

Casa Mono

I'm just back from a three-week vacation spent mostly in Indonesia, with a good handful of days in various airports and planes. People should write more about the comfort that comes with landing in a U.S. airport and once again enjoying such luxuries as: air conditioned waiting areas by the gate and the ability to see upcoming flights and their status on various monitors throughout the airport. Also, I can't think of the last time I was so glad to see middle-aged, middle-America ladies in their loose-fitting khaki capris, pastel cotton tops, and sensible shoes. Not any sort of outrageous, brilliant joy, but a quiet, pleasant sense of being home, in America once more.

Pumpkin and Goat Cheese Croquettas

I had an amazing trip in Indonesia, especially from a diving perspective, and not so much from the dining front. It'll take me awhile to sort through the photos, so before I launch into the eating experiences abroad, let's go through a few meals I had at home before setting off to the other side of the planet. First up: Casa Mono.

Casa Mono has been gracing Gramercy Park with its presence since 2003, and it is beyond sad that I've never visited before. Dinner was like one final slap in the face before leaving Manhattan: a wicked eye-opener to remind me very painfully that this town is littered with fantastic eating joints that dish out gustatory delights night after night, and I, idiot that I am, am leaving to go to Chicago. Chicago baby, people say you know how to eat. All I'm saying is that you had better knock my socks off, or I am going to be one depressed little food blogger.

Pulpo with Fennel and Grapefruit

Casa Mono's menu descriptions seem to be a mix of Spanish and English. Don't know how that would play in other parts of the country, but it was just the right mix for me: not as confusing as Elizabeth's menu in complete Italian, and not as boring as Spanish named dishes with English descriptions.

I can't entirely remember the ingredients in this dish, but it was easily the best thing we had. I think it's a duck egg with new potatoes and (duck?) prosciutto with shaved black truffles. The running yolk, creamy potatoes, salty prosciutto, and sea salt crystals all made perfect foils for wonderfully aromatic black truffles.

The Bacalao Croquettes were decent, you could actually taste the bacalao unlike my experience at Back Forty and Cafe Iberico.

Artichokes with Mint

Fantastic restaurants in Manhattan and ten days of diving in Indonesia seriously makes one want to become a banker (or actually, robbing a bank would do just as well) and eat in Michelin-rated restaurants amidst sailing to remote islands for the rest of one's vacation days.

Casa Mono, 52 Irving Place (b/n 17th and 18th), NY, 212-253-2773

Cafe Iberico

Enthusiastic recommendations for Cafe Iberico have come from several corners: including dumb kid brother, a U. of Chicago alum now residing in L.A., my best friend who really knows how to chow down (though she was recently mocked by the bastard consultant at an AYCE sushi dinner), this crazy Taiwainese girl I know and love, and two old ladies at the bus stop outside of the Lincoln Park Zoo.

Am I total food snob? Foodie I may refuse to be, and I know I'm a curmudgeon, but I never thought I'd be the grumbling old lady of the restaurant scene. Extraordinary is not the word that comes to mind when I think of my dining experience at Cafe Iberico. Fine would be more likely to pop up.

We started with an Ensalata Mixta (Spanish style mixed salad with asparagus, beets, hearts of palm, and red onion dressed with the restaurant's vinaigrette and wine dressing), which was nice after the chili cheese fries at Chicago's Dog House.

Gambas al Ajillo (grilled shrimp with olive oil, garlic and wine) is always good, but the shrimp didn't have the slight charring one hopes for with grilled foods, and this honey is single and isn't adverse to even more garlic.

Add to fried calamari and stir fried green beans, bacalao croquettes. Ordered them at Back Forty: not extraordinary; ordered them at Cafe Iberico: just plain bad; and ordered them at Casa Mono: look out for a future blog post. The croquettes were almost gluey in the center with almost no discernible taste of the salt cod. The aioli was too loose and could have had more saffron. Duped by a special.

Almejas en Salsa Verde (small clams sautéed with shallots, white wine and parsley) was fine. The clams were a tad gritty, but I'm not a stickler for dodging the dirt. I didn't like the sauce. It looked like the restaurant had thickened it, and I really didn't see the point. It was not bread sop-worthy.

Pulpo a la Plancha (grilled octopus with potatoes and olive oil) was actually grilled octopus with french fries, but the octopus at least was good. The fries were decent too, but more on their own, and I'm not sure they made sense with the octopus. If anything, it was difficult to hunt down the tasty charred octopus chunks amongst the potato in the dim lighting.

I will say this about Cafe Iberico, it attracts a good crowd. People seemed really happy at the restaurant, and I saw all sorts of personality groups come to share stories with good friends: the three young ladies in sun-dresses, the table of Asian businessmen in a uniform of polo shirts and khakis, the ladies night out spanning at least two generations, and the three thuggy Chinese guys in t-shirts and baseball caps.

Cafe Iberico, 739 N. LaSalle Dr., Chicago, IL 60610, 312-573-1510

Boqueria: Good for Squabbling

Something about the counter-height tables and a party of young professionals makes Boqueria a good place to squabble: about what to order, apartment rental prices in Miami, who is going to pay the bill, anything really.

I won a couple of ordering fights -- didn't really win at all actually. People foolishly defer to me because I have a food blog, which doesn't actually translate into good ordering skills.

Take this plate of white asparagus and poached egg drizzled with a cream sauce. The white asparagus was relatively bland and it's delicate texture was not properly offset by whatever that crispy protein floating on top of it is. My roommate is a bit adverse to the super runny egg, so I'm not sure what possessed me to order a poached egg, except for my own personal love for the lightly cooked egg and pure selfish desire.

The patatas bravas sported a proper thin crust and warm mealy insides.

One fellow insisted on ordering this paella, and it joins the ranks of my asparagus. The rice was overcooked and soft.

But this spinach was fantastic, and I've got to start cooking more vegetables and experimenting with dried fruits. Pine nuts, garlic, and raisins. Falls into the category of so obvious in hindsight that it's an embarrassment the combination didn't occur to myself before.

Mmm, bacon wrapped dates, good anywhere you find them.

Another errant volley, whipped salt cod brandade on toast. The flavor of bacalao was not strong enough for my taste. A bit too whipped perhaps.

Everyone loved these blistered shishito peppers topped with a sprinkling of coarse sea salt. The peppers are generally very mild unless luck is not your friend that night and whacks you with a spicy whallop, but for the most part it's great to munch through the slightly bitter, sweet thin skins of the peppers with a flavor vaguely reminiscent of roasted green bell peppers.

This steak was a fine urban version of meat and potatoes. An order of medium-rare properly came out pink to the edges and a bit more soft in the center.

I wouldn't go to Boqueria on a day sporting scruffy jeans and ugly workout shoes, but it's nice for a night for your second-favorite pair denim and a cute pair of flats or wedge sandals.

Boqueria Flatiron, 53 West 19th St. (@ 6th Ave.), 212-255-4160

Uva

Some restaurants merit absurd activity like waking up at 9 a.m. on a Saturday morning in a panic, so that you can be standing outside Prune by 9:45 a.m., teeth brushed, clothes changed, hair combed, and mascara applied, ready for a delicious New York City brunch.

Some restaurants are good but only deserve reasonable behavior. I waited almost an hour for dinner at Uva, and I'm embarrassed to say I did.


Which is not to say that Uva is a bad restaurant. It's good. In fact, if all the dishes tasted like this Burrata Barese (creamy mozzarella with yellow beef tomatoes, fava beans and balsamic glaze), then maybe it would be worth a little New-York-insane-fixation-on-a-long-wait action. E Except even here, things weren't perfect. The fava beans were dry and a pointless, negative addition, but somebody wanted to save ink on the menus and didn't have the cojones to yank them off the dish that night.

The culatello might have made me waver except even my love for charcuterie has to admit that at the end of the day, all the restaurant did was source some good cured pork and slice it thin.

The arancini (deep fried saffron rice balls) tasted like Italian comfort food. Solid, no whirligigs attached.

A special of tuna tartare with pickled onions and roasted endive was not bad except for the fact that the lighting was so poor we couldn't tell the onions from the tuna, and K took a big bit of pure pickled onion, so no one had any tart accompaniment to balance the rich fish.

Don't order the Polpettine di Vitello (mini veal meatballs cooked in a savory tomato sauce, served with grilled ciabatta bread). I know it sounds good, but one bite and it was clear why a mini veal meatball rage has not overtaken the city. Veal must not be fatty enough of a meat to make into a juicy meatball because these suckers were dry and generally not worth your time of day. You deserve better.

Even better than this Polenta Tartufata (fresh polenta filled with robiola cheese in a black truffle sauce.)
Once again, it's good, but it's not marvelous. The polenta tasted a bit dense and mushy, nothing like the truly revelatory polenta at Il Buco. The truffle sauce had a nice heady earthy flavor, but upon further consideration tasted slightly artificial, which doesn't make complete sense because you and can both see little bits of truffle, but at $9 a plate, it'd be hard to believe they are all real fresh little bits of truffle.

The decor in the restaurant itself is cute. The Upper East Side's version of Inoteca, lots of old wood and brick. It'd be a good go-to restaurant if we didn't have to wait so long. Admittedly, the people on the phone said that generally the wait is about "a glass of wine's" worth, so I don't know what was up with our luck that night, but unless you live in the neighborhood, it's not a good enough of a place to merit a subway ride and a possible long wait.

Uva, 1486 Second Avenue (at 77th St.), 212-472-4552