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

 

 

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.

Bloomsbury Bistro

OK my foodie friends, here’s one you need to try.

Bloomsbury Bistro is located within and serves the historic, well-heeled neighborhoods of old Raleigh, just off the Five Point intersection of Glenwood Avenue.  My college roommate twice recommended that we try Bloomsbury Bistro. I’d hesitated for almost a year, Five Points appeared far less interesting than downtown.  Bottom line however, he was right. Located in a small strip mall with plenty of easy parking, Bloomsbury’s plain, decades old, exterior belies the delights contained within. We’ve been twice, on our second trip with our good friends Gus and Liz from New York.
On both our visits, we were met warmly at the door by Charles, the sommelier, a fortunate delight for Gus, an active collector of premium California wines, who praised Bloomsbury’s wine list and enjoyed a long conversation with Charles. Our table with its starched white table cloth suggested European affluence.  No airs, no pomp, only solid integrity. 

When making a reservation, ask for Bill as your waiter.  We have had another who was not nearly as professional.  Bill’s quiet unseen hand made sure that the drinks and food arrived in a timely and unrushed manner.  I prefer chatting with waiters who I generally find very interesting; Bill obliged me as long as our “chatting” did not interrupt his service to us or to others.

Bar tenders have far more opportunity to be gregarious and Tony was no exception.  His warm, open face smiled his customers into a comfortable warmth.  On our second visit, a Monday evening, the bar seats were filled with couples of all ages. I attribute this to Tony; I’m guessing that many were regulars from the neighborhood. 

Now to my litmus test: the martini. This ought to be easy, a good gin with a twinkling of dry vermouth.  Not so. I’ve learned to explain at length what I want. Bill waited and then patiently replied, “Of Course.” And, he was right. Tony provided a superb martini. My off-hand remark that olives belong in the gin was remembered in my second drink. Yes I can be that persnickety. The olive, more than a dash of color, adds a musky whimsy to the gin.
Just before the drinks, Bloomsbury’s own herb infused bread arrived – hot.  What is better than freshly made hot bread?  And what better accompaniment is there to a splendid martini or a glass of red wine?

As for the food – delicious.  Despite having been there twice, we have yet to do justice to the appetizers despite how good they sound. Gus and Liz had Greek salads, and both claimed these were among the best they had ever tasted.  I ordered a scoop of the pimento-cheese grits, which accompanied one of the special entrees. Good choice on my part – delightful and so very Southern.  At most restaurants, even such a simple request would have arrived fully dressed with all kinds of frou-frou to pretty it up.  Not here. I received exactly what I asked for, a scoop of the grits.  Though Bloomsbury is a “fancy” restaurant, and the dishes did arrive beautifully plated, I liked it even more for this simple honesty.

Next time I just may have three appetizers and forego both the entrée and dessert.  So many great choices. Perhaps potato gnocchi carbonara with pancetta, then Damascus style spiced lamb confit “pie” in puff pastry; followed up with roasted butternut squash with candied Granny Smith apples. See what I mean about tasty delights.

On our first visit, we both had fish: my wife had the grilled Scottish salmon over Parmesan soft polenta. The Italian polenta, one of Vivian’s favorite, was the smoothest, lightest either of us had ever had; it balanced beautifully with the salmon. So delighted was Vivian that she ordered it again on our return visit. My lightly battered fish, atop its own mixture of vegetables also included Tuscan kale.  In fact, I ordered it for the kale. For over a year so many of the mouth-watering recipes in the Sunday New York Times had featured Tuscan kale, and now I know why. It’s slightly crunchy texture and subtle flavors enhance the other vegetables with which it is paired.

Gus enjoyed his grilled chicken from the specials list with the grilled asparagus and cherry wood smoked bacon. Liz’s homemade ricotta and black truffle tortelloni from the appetizer list came out large and plump, filled with tasty surprises.  I indulged myself with the bacon crusted calves liver. We were all thoroughly impressed, full but not stuffed, just happy and contented.

 On both occasions we all had the figgy pudding dessert, and both times for the same reason. It was greatly sought in the Christmas song. Bloomsbury’s presented a flan, flaked throughout with slivers of port infused figs which we shared and enjoyed together.

After the meal, as I personally thanked our bartender, Tony, we met a lady drinking a Left Bank. On our second visit, Tony devised for me a martini with a splash of St. Germain elderberry cordial, undiluted by a Left Bank’s chardonnay.  Now when I make our reservation, Tony has to be there. I go back for the food, but now especially for this truly, truly, special-best martini. 

My only hesitation in recommending Bloomsbury to you? I don’t know your preference in atmosphere.  Downtown’s high-profile restaurants attract the affluent, and sometimes loud, up-and-comers in their late twenties and early thirties. Bloomsbury Bistro seems almost like a private club: quieter, casual in a very sophisticated sort of way. My guess would be that Bloomsbury attracts the professional, political and business leaders of our community. One couple, whom we met from the table next to ours, held important positions with two of the larger RTP companies.

My roommate and old friend was right.  Great place, perhaps even a new home for us. Go! Then tell me what you think.

 

Located at 509 W. Whitaker Mill Road Suite 101, Raleigh, NC 27608.

                    919 834 9011    Bloomsburybistro.com