BigBoom Vino

Vincent Barresi opened his newest restaurant, BigBoom, following the closing of his popular home style Italian restaurant Vincent’s. BigBoom adds blast to traditional Italian recipes, enjoys a full bar, linen napkins, attentive service, plenty of seating and easy parking down on Glenwood South.

My sister was again in town so my wife and I invited her along for our visit to BigBoom; she had been with us on the old restaurant’s last day; it seemed only fitting she be with us when we explored its successor.  BigBoom’s own take on traditional Italian fare, though most enjoyable, occasionally suffers from its own earnestness; the gussied up recipes sometimes lack subtlety. The setting is fun-funky, with the bar and several walls painted in a vibrant graffiti style.

That evening the weather was Chamber-of-Commerce perfect, not too hot, cooled by the incoming drift of evening air. We sat outside and watched a much younger world walk by, with the strollers getting younger and younger as we ate into the evening.

The Big Boom has a complete bar – and most importantly, a very good bar tender.  I told Scott that he was one of only a half dozen bartenders in Raleigh that could make a good martini – good by my specifications.  The martini was as delightful as the evening.

Kacy, our waitress for the evening, belongs to a dwindling population, a Raleigh native.  Her delightful smile and fond manner added greatly to our comfort. 

The three of us shared two appetizers, the “rice ball” and the Eggplant Rollatini.  The rice ball, aka arancini, was denser than I prefer, heavier on flavors, not the simple, traditional rice and cheese balls my wife’s aunt used to make. Still good, despite being over the top.  The Rollatini, unbreaded eggplant rolled around mozzarella, ricotta and pancetta, was very good.  I enjoyed the pancetta, though I would have preferred having the eggplant be the predominant flavor.

The menu almost dares one to make changes in the presentation, “Don’t see it on the menu? Just ask! We’ll be happy to make anything your heart desires.” My sister took them up on this and subtracted the cream and mushrooms from the Fusilli Carbonara and replaced them with marinara.  It came just as she ordered, a fine dish.  My wife ordered the “Orecchiette” in a marinara sauce. I enjoyed the melt in your mouth Chianti braised short rib with its elegantly decadent sauce.

My wife and sister ordered a nice Chianti which set the meal off just right.  And, at $7 a glass, the price was also most pleasant. As per my usual, I indulged myself with a second martini.

Towards the end of the meal, one of Vinny’s partners, Schaefer, dropped by to say hello. The perfunctory, “How was your meal,” turned into a long, fun conversation.  Schaefer has led a most interesting life. Next time I will ask him to pull up a chair and enjoy a glass of wine with us. During our discussion about gnocchi, he left suddenly and quickly reappeared bringing three gnocchi for us to taste.  All their pasta is imported from Italy. I wondered if this gnocchi hailed from Rome where the Gnocchi alla Romana uses semolina flour rather than potato as its main ingredient, the benefit being more than just preference, Gnocchi alla Romana’s strong independent personality can bully even the most imposing of sauces such as BigBoom’s marinara with sausage and broccolini.

What surprised us the most was finding the dining room entirely empty, though at 6:30 the night was still quite young. Even the outside tables never reached full capacity.  Perhaps the Big Boom just needs to be discovered. 

We are looking forward to going back. Those of you, also of a certain age, fear not; Glenwood South in the early evening is fun, convivial, sober, and cheerful. Getting there is easy, and the parking garage on the same block makes it truly convenient. 

BigBoom is located at 510 Glenwood South, Raleigh, NC.    919 307 4778.

J Betski's

J. Betski’s, one of the few German restaurants in the Raleigh area, features well-cooked German and Polish food.  It has long been one of our favorite places for fine dining, great for celebrating special events.

Though not tonight.

When we first moved here, five years ago, I would have eaten at J. Betski’s every night had I a wallet ample enough, and a waistline not already too ample.  Jeremy, the bartender and occasional waiter, a friend of my son, was friendly, funny, charming, knowledgeable and willing to try different approaches even to the staid old duchess, the martini.  Todd, the chef back then, cooked tremendous treats and the menu always listed something special, different, and intriguing. 

Two weeks ago my wife and I brought my sister there for a festive last dinner to celebrate her having been able to live in Raleigh for almost a year while on a long time job assignment. She was leaving that weekend, heading back home.  We were in the mood to party; especially since my sister had heard us speak frequently and glowingly of J. Betski’s food, drink and merriment.

Tonight put the lie all our claims.

Though we knew that Jeremy had left to work elsewhere; and that Todd had moved on to open his own restaurant in Durham, we also remembered having a fine time last September even with the replacements.  Among our many delights that past autumn night, was meeting a renowned local architect and his wife, who were also enjoying a good supper.  He had been a teacher of one my favorite people, Chris Boney, our school architect in Wilmington.

Our spirited bubble of enthusiasm began its slow deflation with the arrival of our waitress.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

Vivian ordered wine; Lyn one of their specials, the Beet Jammer, beet infused vodka mixed with apple cider and spicy ginger ale.

On tasting the Jammer, Lyn couldn’t even take a second sip she disliked it so much, claiming that it reminded her too much of unwashed beets. Swelled with my pride in J. Betski’s, I told her not to worry, the restaurant would gladly get her something else at no charge.  Good restaurants do that. The waitress, however, frowned at my comment, took the drink away and then came back for Lyn’s new order.

The waitress frowned? How very strange for J. Betski’s.

I ordered a Hendrick’s martini, in honor of Jeremy who had first introduced me to this unusual, cucumber infused gin, after all our whole evening wound around nostalgia and Lyn’s fun Raleigh memories.

Two other customers near us had their martinis, full and pleasant. I was in great expectation. But …. 

What I received was nothing like Jeremy’s.  Nothing like that served at any other table. Frankly it was nothing like what I usually got from Henry, Jeremy’s bar tender replacement. Plumped down like a gauntlet was no martini, but rather its puny resemblance, a mere dash of gin, barely filling a third of the glass.

Did this have anything to do with my sending back the Jammer?

Was Henry getting back at me for my cavalier attitude toward one of his specials?  Was he punishing me for my presumption? One hates to have such thoughts because they sound so petty, so childish, but perhaps so unfortunately close to reality.  Whatever the reason, the Lilliputian martini, with mocking smugness, dared me to take some action.

I sent it back, but I did tell the waitress that I would pay the extra for a real martini.  It came back, filled almost to the top, and was quite delicious.  Wonderful taste, fine aroma. It was so good that I had three.

My faith in J. Betski’s seemed renewed. We all sat back, relaxed, sipped our drinks and nibbled on our appetizers.  Our orders had gone into the kitchen. The service seemed to be getting better.

As with every other time we had been to J. Betski’s, the food was really fine. These were the old and well-remembered Betski’s recipes.  My sister had never tasted spaetzli, and so my wife ordered a spaetzli side as one of our appetizers. Lyn was delighted.  We also ordered mushroom and cabbage pierogis with sage brown butter.  These were plump, moist and tasty, but in my opinion, the spaetzli stole the show.

Lyn, who wanting to taste the true German/Polish influence, strayed from her diet and ordered the fresh kielbasa with house made sauerkraut and spicy mustard.  So good.  She was enjoying it so much, I dared not even ask her for a taste.

Though it seemed hard to believe, I had never ordered their schnitzel.  Tonight was the night, and I was not disappointed.  The pork had been pounded thin, lightly breaded and fried.  The meat was tender, the breading crispy but not oily.  The lingonberry preserves were served just like the picture on the web, a deep purple pond between two wedges of lemon. A feast to the eye as well as the tongue.  Though I rarely eat cucumbers, tonight was my night: Hendricks and now Austrian potato and dill-cucumber salads, both were so very satisfying, especially on a hot summer night.

But the shadow over the evening returned with the presentation of the bill. The “extra” that I incurred for one full drink came to $20 – that’s $20 each, $60 dollars for three martinis.  I’m guessing that none of the other patrons spent $20 on their drinks – we certainly had not in September.  We are retired and careful that our life savings are not too early depleted. Betski’s punched the fun out of our sails, as well as our budget.

Betski’s Revenge was no way for my sister to remember Raleigh.

Part of tonight’s problem may be due to lack of supervision.  When Todd left, the owner took over as chef; as a result he rarely ever gets out to see over operations or to talk to his guests.

I left feeling used and ill-treated, especially compared to the optimism I enjoyed on entering. 

I will go back to Betski’s if for no other reason than I still have a Betski’s Gift Certificate from my son last Christmas. But, I’ll have a beer instead.  If the hospitality has not much changed, I’ll cross Betski’s off my list – but with great regrets.

J. Betski’s is located at 10 W Franklin St, Suite 120, Raleigh, NC 27604. (919) 833-7999.  http://jbetskis.com/

Sitti, Authentic Lebanese

                                                                                                                                Visited in February, 2015

Next door at Gravy Restaurant, ten minutes before their opening:  “Could you let us in? We’re really cold. It’s freezing out here.”

The Gravy manager barked, “You’ll have to wait until we are open.  Not before.”

“We don’t need a table right away, can’t we just wait inside the door where it is warm?”

“No.”

“Jerks,” I muttered irritably.

“Are you still hungry?” my wife asked, ignoring my grousing.

“Look at you, your fingers are turning blue. You’re shivering. What else is nearby?”

“Sitti is right next door.”

“We’ve already been there twice.  The service was slow, the bar tender worthless.”

“That was just your martini.  You enjoyed the food didn’t you?  Besides I don’t see anywhere else.”

“I suppose.” I replied without conviction or even enthusiasm.

Well before the evening rush, there were plenty of tables. A waiter appeared. “How are you this afternoon, sir? My name is Ross.” Before us stood a stolid, somewhat stocky, unruly haired young Celt, either totally unfazed or unable to read my dour expression. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“How am I?  Let me tell you. We’ve just been pushed out in the cold by Gravy, and we’re hungry. Vivian is there a wine you would like?” I so wanted this to be fun, but I was not optimistic.

“Yes, this looks good.” she replied cheerily and returned the wine list to Ross.

“And for you sir?”

Grumble, grumble. “Is this bartender any good? The last two times we’ve been here, the drinks were terrible.”

“How so?”

“I like martinis. On our first visit, after reminding the waiter twice, mine finally arrived, well after we had begun eating. The second time – it arrived with ice chips all over the surface, obviously shaken when I had asked for stirred. Water kills gin.”

Ross’s eyes twinkled; his body language read “Ignore gruff.” He paused, smiled disarmingly, and responded, “How do you like your martini?”

Good man. No fear, very professional.  I liked him, but I still barked, “Tanqueray gin, classic not dry, not shaken, stirred only a few times, and straight up, with an olive. And better bring me a jigger of olive juice for insurance.”

“Insurance?”

“Yes, insurance, if it’s poor, I can drown it down dirty.”

“I’ll bring the juice, but you won’t need it. You’ll be pleased. To be sure, I’ll make it myself.”

I warmed to this guy.  My wife and I had begun to thaw.

The drink arrived, I sipped. “Ross, thank you, this is good.” He waited a bit more, the restaurant was not yet crowded. Though he had no accent, I wondered out loud,”You’re not Scottish by any chance, are you?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact; my mother still lives there.”

And so started a conversation, first about Scotland, then his educational background, and finally the restaurant itself. He told us about the old time photos on the walls, “Many if not all are relatives of the owner, including his ‘Sitti’ which in Lebanese means ‘grandmother,’ the most important, and most beloved figure in any Lebanese family.”

We were in good hands. Ross’s martini calmed my inner dragon. “And so my new friend, what do you recommend?” Sitti organized its large, tri-panel menu by: Cold Mezze (salad, soup, sides); Entrees and Kabobs; and Hot Mezze and Pizzettes. “So many choices.”

The table pita arrived, fresh warm billowing pillows of goodness. Vivian and I relaxed enough to discuss Burning Coal’s production of Romeo and Juliet that we had just this afternoon. By the second martini, we were reminiscing about other productions. 

I truly enjoy lentil soup, one of the world’s great accomplishments, and Sitti’s ranked among the best, and also one of the most unusual.  Tonight’s included not only dark lentils but shredded grape leaves in a tangy vegetable broth. Slivers of a white root vegetable replaced the typical rice. Neither Vivian nor I could quite place the very fragrant spice. I’d go back just for the soup. Not ordering any appetizer, Vivian tried my soup and loved it.

Her shrimp kabob arrived off the spit, tangy with a delectable sauce.  “One of the best shrimp dishes I have ever had.” She exclaimed. I tasted the tails (yes the tails, I like them crispy and chewy).  The sauce was indeed good, not oily, and not overly spiced.  Her white rice, served with brown, fried bits of vermicelli and slivered almonds, was quite good.  

After all these good treats, my swarma was a bit of a disappointment.  Having lived in New Jersey with its large Middle Eastern population, the swarma I was used to was meat shaved from a large vertical-spit of overlapping cuts of meat.  What I received were pan fried, indistinguishable morsels of beef and lamb. My guess would be that the demand for swarma in Raleigh doesn’t warrant setting up a true swarma spit – nevertheless, this second best was just that.

Because it sounded so bizarre, I ordered garlic whips as my side.  Bizarre? Yes! As strange as Aladdin’s magic carpet and even more transportive. Wow, what a grand taste. Ross described it as a mixture of egg whites, garlic, salt and a small amount of oil.  It was far lighter than mayonnaise and spread wonderfully. Next time, especially if the lentil soup is not au jour, I’m ordering garlic whip as my appetizer.

In the hopes that we might someday bring our grandchildren, we checked out the children’s menu. It’s as much fun as the adult fare: mini tastes of hummus, baba ghanouj, and labneh; cheese pizzette with house-made mozzarella; chicken kabob; or peanut butter and jelly on pita. We laughed over the Lebanese interpretation of our traditional PB&J.

We shared the baklava for dessert: five pieces, sweet but not too rich; we could even taste the pistachios.  To Vivian’s disappointment, they did not serve Turkish Coffee.

On leaving we thanked Ross profusely, “Great time; you’ve made me want to come back.”

 

Sitti Authentic Lebanese is located at: 137 S. Wilmington Street, Raleigh, NC 27601.   919-239-4070.   http://www.sitti-raleigh.com/

Tra’ Li Irish Pub

One of our favorite family restaurants is the Tra'Li Irish Pub in Briercreek. Such frequency itself warrants a review. We enjoy its atmosphere, its staff, and the bill which is fairly gentle on the wallet.  Our children and grandchildren like it; the food is comfortable and the menu is extensive, the children’s menu alone has nine items.

Tra'Li describes itself as “Your local pub [with] families enjoying brunch … co-workers enjoying drinks after work … professors writing lectures … [and] soccer fans watching their favorite clubs.” The workers tend to be IT types from the Research Triangle, and I’ve yet to see anyone writing away, but the sentiment is honest.

Styled as an Irish Pub, much of the interior is wood and plaster.  I prefer the “library” with its shelves of books, steins and various pubby knick-knacks.  The upholstered seats are comfortable, and the tables wide. Most of the rooms are conducive to convivial dining and there is ample outside seating.  Like the food, the ambiance encourages an easy going comradeship.

The beer selection is fairly extensive, their wine list adequate. Occasionally they tap a particularly interesting barrel. They also maintain several of our local craft beers on tap.

I particularly like their Scotch Eggs, three hard boiled eggs, each wrapped in sausage and deep fried. They make a great starter, or even a small meal with a salad.  And, they open up conversation, since they are unknown to most people.  Last time we were there, much to the great satisfaction of all three generations around the table, we ordered Tabasco Onion Straws with ranch dip. Made from real onions, they arrive in a large heap of twisted, batter coated delights. We had no problem finishing them off well before they cooled. 

Vivian enjoys the turkey wrap.  I have had their Shepard’s Pie and find it delightfully different. The Beer Battered Fish and Chips are tender and tasty, the batter flakey, and the chips uncommonly good.  Their homemade onion tartar sauce is worth the price of the meal. My son claimed his burger it was one of the best in the Triangle; my sister speaks highly of the lamb burger. The Big Mic, at $13, is a bargain hunter’s delight, two burger patties separated by a rasher of bacon and topped with cheese.  The real star, however, was not the meat, but the thick seasoned wedges of potato, cooked perfectly: crunchy outside, tender potato inside. 

Back in the frigid days of February, I ordered the carrot and rutabaga soup. The waiter booked my order; the odds seemed highly stacked against me.  But I won, the payout far exceeded my expectations. Great taste.

As you my readers know, a very special part of my dining experience depends on the wait staff.  I recommend two, Courtney and Kyle.  Courtney is quick and efficient and though not much of a talker, unless she has the time and you initiate the conversation. Kyle, though also efficient, trades me quip for quip which I greatly enjoy. He is heading off to grad school in the fall, so seek him out while he is still there.

What to avoid:

Never, never order a cocktail, nothing where the mixer is stronger than tonic, nothing that requires anything of the bar tender other than popping a top. My Manhattan tasted more like the school punch we spiked in junior high, filled with a fizzy cherry soda faintly tasting of bourbon. My martini arrived without an olive, and without vermouth. If these two traditional drinks confuse the barkeeps, imagine how they’d hatchet a sling or a sour.

Avoid the back room near the bar. The noise precludes conversation.

Don’t expect the meat to arrive as you ordered, unless you happened to request medium to well done.  My son’s burger came exactly how he likes it.  Mine came the same way, except that I had ordered it medium-rare.

 

Cast away any illusions of food like mom used to make. An old Friday stand-by dinner in our Catholic house was cod fish cakes and tartar sauce. The Newfoundland Cod and Potato Cakes arrived heavy on potatoes, weak on cod.

My recommendation: come and enjoy.  It may take one or two visits to sort out what appeals to you, but at these prices, the risk is not great.  I’ve given you a bit of advice on what I avoid. Once you’ve established your own footing, you’ll skip, hop and jump with delight.  The patio tables of young people enjoying a fine brew, great times and good conversation on a balmy afternoon speaks to the appeal of Tra’Li.

The Tra'Li Irish Pub is located in Brier Creek at 10370 Moncreiffe Rd, Suite 109, Raleigh, NC — 27617   919.544.4141     www.traliirishpub.com   (I have not tried its second location in Morrisville)

The Martini

I pick up martini’s signature glass, not spilling a drop. I hold it religiously, savoring the ancient scents from antique juniper glades – and it transports. I dance back into my youth, long before debilitating aches. I am lusty once again, filled with strength, with a fertile mind and body, with the ability to race and jump. Old memories leap forward: Vivian and I sipping martinis on Snoopy’s[i] quiet pier watching the gulls hover over Texas wetlands, with Bob and Anne Marie at Morell[ii] in Manhattan, or just relaxing before a winter fire in our Wilmington home library 

A martini is simply the mating of gin and dry vermouth, generally in Fibonacci proportions, of one to eight, but its assembly requires careful attention. No water. No camouflaging flavors. And careful engineering and some ceremony.  

The epitome of ceremony:  While at a very fine hotel in Barcelona, that ancient world of elegant artistry, we watched as two white coated waiters rolled out a finely carved oak table draped in starched white linen, on which rested a single thin martini glass and one lemon. To the martini glass, Juan added ice and a splash of water while Luis assisted me in picking out my gin and finding out whether I preferred it classical, dry or dirty. I prefer classical; I want to be able to feel the vermouth. Taking up the lemon, two shallow shavings were removed. Juan pared one down to a long thin zest, the other he left whole. Gin and a bit of vermouth were added to a dry canister.  The slush in the martini glass was thrown out and the chilled glass wiped dry. The wider lemon peel was flicked across the rim leaving a thin coat of lemon oil.  Juan dropped a few ice cubes into the gin-vermouth mixture and stirred it quickly, poured it into the dry glass while Luis lifted up the thin, lemon zest, twirled it around his finger, and dropped it into the glass where it uncoiled gracefully. Then they both paused, standing at attention, allowing the various flavors to get acquainted. Juan brought over a small white napkin which he centered precisely in front of me and onto which Luis ceremoniously placed the martini. I placed two fingers on each side of the rim, raised the martini, slowly drew in the power of the junipers, took a small sip, rolled it in my mouth, bathing each taste bud, sighed, and then applauded the artist for a drink well made.  Exquisitely made indeed. 

Bar tenders relax.  Americans prefer far less pomp – but a good martini requires the same basic steps in this order: a) chilled martini glass; b) good gin and vermouth mixed together, c) ice added, then stirred, d) quick decanting and e) a garnish added. Note, though it seems counter intuitive, the ice must be added to the liquid, never the other way around. The gin and ice should never be allowed to just sit while a busy bar keep attends to others. It is stirred, never shaken; shaking only splinters the ice which then melts in the glass. Water kills a martini. 

Garnishes:

·         Must there be a lemon? What about olives or pickled onions? Preferences here depend on the individual – and on the gin. I prefer to complement the simplicity of Tanqueray with a “wet olive,” one dipped first in its own juices. If the only gin available is cheap and harsh, then add olive juice to make a “dirty martini,” the salt buffers the rough edges.  For more complex gins, such as Hendriks with its hints of rose petals and cucumber, I prefer the simple zest of lemon. Blue Cheese olives are delightful, except for the oil slick they leave behind. My brother favors Garlic stuffed olives, not I. With a pickled onion, known as a Gibson (martini), one gets a bit of sweetness, the better the pickling, the better the Gibson.

 

Gins:

·         Martinis require the mystical kiss of juniper, as found in a fine gin - not vodka. Gin alone holds the juniper power, the dulcet melody, and the magic of a really fine martini. The choice of gins is vast.  I prefer Tanqueray or Hendricks. Even in North Carolina’s ABC stores, one has the choice of 14 imported gins and 34 domestics, including 4 distilled in our state.  The only local gin I’ve tasted is Cardinal and I found its herbals far too raw. 

Pet Peeves:

·         Water in the gin: the elegant and venerable Fairmount in Boston go so far that it serves the martini in a carafe that they have allowed to cool in a bowl of shaved ice, never abused by water.

·         Olives strung out across the rim. It’s pretty but adds nothing to the taste.  I prefer my olive dipped first in its juice and then sunk to the bottom.

·         Half-filled glasses: a martini glass is designed to vent the juniper aroma, it needs to be full.  Unfortunately, North Carolina, with its prohibitionist mind-set, limits the ounces per drink.  If a bar uses a standard size martini glass, it will be only half filled.  Some, like Red Monkey, have begun using smaller stem-less glasses. Inelegant? Yes.  But given the limits on pourage, they provide a better taste. 

Food Pairings.

·         Bread is a natural.  I especially enjoy a basket of freshly made Louisiana hush puppies.

·         Avoid anything oily, vinegary or spicy-hot; like dreadful siblings they vie too hard for your attention. 

Recommendations:

·         My best ever martini in Raleigh was at Vivaci[iii], a fluke it has yet to  replicate. Betski’s[iv] and Holly’s[v] also do a good job, with direction. Get to know your bartender. I recommend Zack Vile at Red Monkey[vi]; Tony Coulter at Bloomsbury[vii] or Aaron Squires at Irregardless[viii]. I only make a reservation if the receptionist can guarantee a favored bar tender. And, I try to tip accordingly.

 

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[i] Snoopy's Pier, 13313 S Padre Island Dr, Corpus Christi, TX 78418     snoopysrestaurant.com

[ii] Morrell Wine Bar & Café, 1 Rockefeller Plz, New York, NY 10020     morrellwine.com

[iii] Vivace, 4209 Lassiter Mill Rd, Ste 115, Raleigh, NC 27609   www.vivaceraleigh.com

[iv] J Betski's, 10 W Franklin St Ste 120, Raleigh, NC 27604.    jbetskis.com

[v] Holly’s on Hargett (formerly called Mo's Diner), 306 E Hargett St, Raleigh, NC 27601.     www.mosdiner.net

[vi] Red Monkey Tavern, 4325 Glenwood Ave S Ste 2079, Raleigh, NC 27612    redmonkeytavern.com

[vii] Bloomsbury Bistro, 509 W Whitaker Mill Rd Ste 101, Raleigh, NC 27608     www.bloomsburybistro.com

[viii] Irregardless Café, 901 W Morgan St, Raleigh, NC 27603     www.irregardless.com

 

 

IRREGARDLESS CAFÉ

My wife, sister and I left Burning Coal Theater chatting about Sunday in the Park with George, getting my sister’s first impressions of the play, and filling her in some of the production differences in the Broadway version. None of us, of course came away humming a tune, but that’s Sondheim.  Eager to share more insights and also hungry, we retired to Irregardless, which we had visited a few weeks back with our old friend Rhonda Rosenheck. I called to make a reservation. Maggie, in her clear and ever chipper voice, asked me the time, I responded, “In ten minutes, for three, preferable with Aaron as our waiter?”  On a Sunday Irregardless opens at 5:00; we arrived at 5:03, the very first customers. Maggie sat as at a booth near the bar.  Aaron saw us coming, grinned his sweet, loopy smile, and sauntered over, all 6’ 3” of him, shaggy hair and all. 

In Raleigh Lyn is eager to try new flavors, back home in Maryland I think she is more of a meat-and-potato gal. Irregardless has evolved since its founding in 1975; Arthur Gordon, the owner-chef, was vegetarian and so was his restaurant. Now, however, his menu is far more varied, among the entrées eleven dishes were strictly vegetarian, six featured fish, and eight focused on lamb, chicken, duck, or beef. All three of us took the vegetarian route, partly because the items were so intriguing, and partly because they were also less expensive, though I found it hard to pass up lamb lollipops, or duck. Meat dishes average $23 each, fish $25, while herbivorous specialties are only $17 each. . Irregardless runs its own Well Fed Community Garden, but even when not using its own produce, it strives to serve locally sourced meat, fish and vegetables.

Like my favorite pair of shoes, the décor is a bit scuffed around the edges but oh so comfortable. Nothing Arthur couldn’t fix with a good shinning. I’m so glad we called ahead, by 5:30, the restaurant was filled. Couples predominated though there were a few larger groups, all from across the generational spectrum. Musicians played in the background, it was truly a sweet atmosphere.

As a former English teacher, I still get miffed by the name.  Though “irregardless” is dictionary listed as a recent dialectical addition, the preferred word is “regardless.” And so, regardless of my syntactic bias, I do love this restaurant, partly because of the food, and even more so because of the people and their stories.  Raleigh can be a bit homogeneously bland; Irregardless is eclectic. 

Arthur the owner in his beret regularly visits tables; on our first visit he sat with us for over 20 minutes telling story after story, Anya. his wife, came over and listened as Rhonda poured out her current situation, Dodge, the general manager has his own special history(1)  and one of my all-time favorites, Aaron Squires, our waiter and bar tender, regaled us with his knowledge of liquors.

Aaron's martinis are a work of art.  This night he and I experimented with glazing (2). When I asked him for suggestions, he bubbled with enthusiasm and suggested I try Domaine de Canton, a ginger liqueur, he even brought out a sample for us to try.  Wow. Vivian and Lyn liked it straight up. Its addition to my martini provided two major changes, first was the very sophisticated hint of ginger, and second was how easily it took the edge off the gin, without sacrificing the wonderful juniper fragrances.

Lyn tried the Irregardless version of a “Dark and Stormy” made with Canton. I’d first heard of this drink in the novels of Nelson de Mille, sited on the Gold Coast of Long Island, not the new-rich Gatsby peninsula, but the old rich of Locust Valley and Centre Island.  I could picture coming from my large sailing yacht and relaxing on the porch of the great Seawanhaka Corinthian Yacht Club, sipping my Dark and Stormy, while staring out at Long Island Sound alongside the Doubledays, duPonts, Roosevelts, and Vanderbilts. Though a thirst quenching summer highball, however, it was not so great with dinner.

For my second martini, Aaron recommended a glazing with Cointreau – also fine, and also smooth, but not quite as exotic as the Canton. 

Having had two martinis, I was happy with the arrival of bread: homemade herb bread and muffins, made with finely ground white corn.  Both real treats.

On our previous visit, we had ordered seafood cakes for the table, tasty but with an all-in-the-blender texture; the accompanying cilantro coleslaw however was delightful.  My Shepherd’s Pie, yes vegetarian, was a casserole layered with spinach, sliced carrots, caramelized onions, fennel, braised cabbage, mashed potatoes, and bulgur wheat in a medium of steamed pomegranate, topped by short crust pastry and served with miso gravy.  It’s as good as it sounds.  Our other two entrées included Vegan Sex and Lentil Cakes, the latter actually being the high light of the evening. We shared dessert, an excellent apple crisp.

Eager to try more on the menu, Lyn ordered acorn squash stuffed with wild rice, lentils, pumpkin seeds set astride a bed of black beans and roasted beets and an adjacent bed of white beans and roasted pineapple.  The squash was fine, but the double beds were engagingly terrific. Vivian selected vegan and gluten free lasagna made with soft polenta cakes, béchamel, and a variety of root vegetables.  Vivian enjoyed it; I would have preferred the polenta cakes to have a bit more texture.  I enjoyed my “scallops,” actually grilled oyster mushrooms served over a mushroom risotto.  The oyster mushrooms were fun because they looked much like real scallops, but the real pleasure was the mushroom risotto.

For all food adventurers, and particularly for those who delight in vegetables, Irregardless is worth the visit.  While there, be sure to meet Arthur, Anya, Dodge, Maggie, and/or Aaron.  Enjoy!

Irregardless Café is located at 901 West Morgan Street, Raleigh, NC.  919 833 8898.   www.irregardless.com

1-      http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/aids/past/liveus.html

2-      More on this in a future blog.

LA PALA, Bistro, Pizza

Sharpening our knives, making the cut.

 Fitzgerald, Hemingway, and many other writers honed their skills by leaving their home land, in order to enjoy a better perspective. Visiting family on Long Island, provided me an opportunity to focus on perspective and what I really valued in a restaurant experience.

 Bob and Anne Marie told us about this very fine restaurant they had discovered recently in Glen Cove.

 Glen Cove, a very small city on New York’s Long Island’s North Store, was established to house the many servants and staff needed on the great estates of the roaring twenties, F. Scott’s Fitzgerald’s “gold coast.” It is, even now, surrounded by villages of great wealth, some even with a minimum zoning of five acres.  

 My challenge, what were the odds of finding a fair comparison so close to New York, comparable in intent and comparable in price.

Then I met La Pala, a newly opened restaurant that by ordinary predictors would seem doomed to a very short life span: very small, only 50 seats inside; not on a main street -- not even on a street; limited parking; tucked below ground under a many storied office building; and begun by two men in the construction business, neither of whom could cook.

The evening we visited was dreadfully cold, especially to our southern sensibilities. We drove down a dark snow sided alley emerging under a many storied building’s backside. How could such an out-of-the-way place succeed?

 However.

When we opened the door, our cheery host met us with a warm smile; Rick became both our waiter and bartender.  The glowing coals from the open brick pizza oven warmed our souls and eventually even our hands.  Rick seated us, and then professionally assessed whether we wanted an in-the-shadows waiter, or an active player in the fun of our dinner.  We, of course, invited him to participate – and what a joy, great recommendations, great attention to detail, and great fun.

At the table, I noticed that the china was thin, the glasses resembled fine thin crystal. Could “thinness” be an indicator of quality? It sure made the dining experience more worthwhile.  Clunky plates remind me of college dining.  Not bad, but not great either.

Our Long Island family had been there before, Rick knew from experience that Bob would be bringing wine from his own collection. For me, far less interested in fruit of the vine, the ambiance sung martini.  My problem: could I trust our waiter/bartender. When I tentatively wondered out loud about whether to order a martini, Rick replied, “Good choice, I also drink martinis.  In fact when I go out, I always ask the bartender what he drinks, unless he says martini, I keep to scotch.” He and I were martini brothers; we discussed the virtues of the seven different gins stocked in his bar. He even had me pre-taste his specially ordered olives. The martini glass itself was light and delicate, no clunkers here, with a 4.5” diameter, filled to the rim; New York does not suffer under the post-prohibition laws of North Carolina that allow only a few ounces to each pour. Later he brought out a few cocktail onions for me to try, delicious.  Here was a craftsman.  Later he brought me a sample of his Sable and Rosenfeld Tipsy Onions, I may even have a Gibson next time.

Deduction:

Standard one: attention to detail, evidenced here by La Pala’s special onions and olives, thin glasses, and delicate china.  Thinness.

Standard Two: the ambiance, rich but not fussy. Welcome without out homey.

Standard three: highly professional staff. Rick served us well, his recommendations were on target, his observations were fun, and he knew when to proceed, and, even more importantly, when to recede.

Standard Four: a well-stocked bar overseen by a knowledgeable tender.

The delicious bread was homemade. Even on a Thursday night, the tables were filled, mostly with older groups, but also a few young couples seemingly on dates.

Standard Five: the clientele, those who appreciate quality over quantity.

Standard Six: fun breads, homemade, different and tasty.

The owners hired very exceptional people and let them do their jobs. They kept the standard of quality high, and the price as low as possible.

 Standard Seven: a desire to deliver quality. Not limiting the service to the level of the clumsiest dishwasher.

Standard Eight: reasonably priced.

I was impressed with the range of offerings, all Mediterranean in origin, mostly Italian. The food pairings were unusual, and unusually good.  How many restaurants in Raleigh offer this range in quantity or types of food?

16 appetizers ($9 -- $14) e.g. calamari, octopus, sliders, lamb chops and ceviche.

   6 salads ($7 -- $9) e.g. spinach, pear, arugula and fennel.
27 main courses ($8 -- $33) small and large plates e.g. black linguini, paella, sea bass, blackened
            chicken, pork belly, lobster, burgers, stuffed salmon, and eggplant.
  9 individual pizzas ($9 -- $12) cooked in a brick oven.

Standard Nine: the range of food, unusual choices alongside old favorites well executed

Standard Ten: do only what you do best, and no more than the kitchen can easily handle.

 Hopefully La Pala’s great advantages (a sophisticated clientele pampered by expert staff; excellent word of mouth advertising, delightful range of menu, excellently cooked; and reasonably priced) will overcome its disadvantages (poor location, limited parking, and no curb appeal).

 Using a restaurant outside of Raleigh to distil my criteria has the advantage of not setting any single local establishment up as the be all and end all, though when I think of how our own fine dining opportunities match up, three immediately come to mind: Holly’s On Hargett, Irregardless, and Bloomsbury Bistro.

For my friends in Manhattan, get away from the noisy streets and take the train to Glen Cove; for those already on Long Island by all means try La Pala to see if you agree with my assessment. 

 For those of you in Raleigh, let me know what restaurants you feel meet these criteria.

 

La Pala Restaurant, located at 246 Glen St, Glen Cove, NY 11542, (516) 399-2255
          https://www.facebook.com/lapalaglencove?rf=1524241887815265
          Two blocks from the Glen Street Station on the Oyster Bay MTA Line.

Vincent’s Restaurant

Easy go – easy come.

OMG all of Vincent’s restaurants are dropping away, first Cucina di Milano in Morrisville and then Vincent’s on Creedmoor Road -- two of our favorite Italian restaurants.  Now gone. Gooooooooone.

After learning about the closing of Cucina, we went to Vincent Barresi’s flagship restaurant on Creedmoor, mostly to explore what it was like.  We loved it – but ours was a love heading headlong into regret, not because of the food, far from that – so delicious. Our regret came when our waitress told us that this was the restaurant’s very last night.  Tomorrow – no more.

After dinner, still feeling the savory warmth of that truly glorious, no frills Italian, just-like-grandma’s, cooking, I ventured over to ask Vincent, “What gives? Why the closings?”

True to his typical Italian courtesy, first he hugged and greeted us warmly, asked us about the food, and then proceeded to introduce his father, Dominick, who also worked the floor. Only then would he talk business.  People always come first.

With their lease coming to an end at that site, a decision had to be made.  Closing seemed the best option. 

But not to fear! 

A reincarnated Vincent’s is on its way in a new location, Glenwood South. The actual name is still under discussion, a so very Italian process where all the family participates, debates, argues, perhaps even shouts, but eventually confirms the final decision by the boss himself, a system of decision making I recognized from my own Italian in-laws. 

The new place will open before the beginning of April. What delightful news.

I’m so looking forward to seeing Vincent again, watching him as he oversees his new pride and joy.  And, let’s face it, I’m also looking forward to some of his old favorites like fettuccine Bolognese and shrimp scampi – so very good, and so comforting. The Creedmoor crowd will miss him greatly, but most had to get there by car anyway, now it’s just a bit further.

The new Vincent’s will feature many of the old favorite recipes – and perhaps even a few new dishes.  It will also feature a full bar – to my mind a change much to be appreciated. Vincent also assured us that easy parking will be right next door.

Look for the announcements for Vincent’s up-and coming-gotta-go-to place.

Gravy Italian-American Kitchen

Think “restaurant”, and one generally thinks hospitality and congeniality – along with the enjoyment of dining. Not so at Gravy.

A few weeks back, Vivian and I saw Romeo and Juliet at Burning Coal Theater.  A wonderful and ingenious interpretation that required great skill, energy and understanding from the actors.  After the play, we were eager to discuss our views over a fine evening meal.
Earlier that morning we had reminisced about good times at Gravy, back when our friend Ray was the bartender.  His martinis were fantastic; the food was always home-cooked good.  What better place to continue our discussion of such a fine, modern interpretation of Shakespeare.
We arrived around 4:30; Gravy would open at 5:00.  It was a brisk cold day, but we made use of the interval to walk around downtown Raleigh.  But enough was enough. My wife hates the cold; her fingers, even in the best of gloves, still go blue so we headed back; at least we could stand in the entryway to keep out of the wind.

Ten minutes before five, the tables were empty, the waiters stood ready, and the receptionist was at her desk.  I motioned to her -- she courteously unlocked the door.  “Could we come in just to wait, we are both very, very cold.”  She asked her manager; he replied,” NO.”

Just freeze while we fiddle with the forks.

That disdainful manager snuffed out our joy of being back at Gravy.  We left and had our grand discussion, fine drinks and dinner at another restaurant.

Preparing to write this blog, I checked Gravy’s website for its address and telephone number.  Though hard to believe, it wasn’t there.  Not on the homepage, nor on any of its tabs, including the “about” page.  After reading and re-reading everything and fifteen minutes later, I finally found the “contact us” page, and there it was.  Not only was common sense marketing ignored, so also was an obvious courtesy to its patrons. Why make it so hard to find the obvious?

No page mentioned any obligation or interest in their guests; the site only touted the quality of the food (and it is good, quite good in fact), the credentials of the chef, and opportunities for catering and private parties. Arrogance? More likely ignorance.

To be a guest at an Italian’s table is a deep honor, and deep pleasure.  The hosts express their welcome by cooking their best dishes.  Italian dining is primarily social, what is served is a reflection of the hosts’ hospitality, and a chance to honor those who are present.  My Italian father-in-law, though a very busy corporate executive, spent time each week bringing people to his Sunday table; only after the inviting would his wife and he discuss what to serve.  The food itself was just an expression of regard for their friends.  When Italians invite you to diner, it is you they want to see; your happiness is foremost. Even a generation later, I still find this universally true.

Oh sorry, not at Gravy. 

Located at 135 S. Wilmington St, Raleigh, NC.  919-896-8513.