A certain timelessness – Old Havana Sandwich Shop

Back in Hoboken, Her Imperial Majesty and I used to frequent a Cuban restaurant called La Isla. It is now internationally famous for winning a throwdown against celebrity chef Bobby Flay in a stuffed French toast war.

But we never went there for breakfast.

No, we went later in the day for what was usually a late lunch. There, we'd while away the afternoon, sitting in a sunny window, sipping on Cokes with limes and munching on Cuban Sandwiches.

A Cuban sandwich is a curious thing and for the pork averse, something to be avoided. Her Imperial Majesty and I have no such aversion and readily chowed down on La Isla's signature sandwich: slow roasted pork, ham, Swiss cheese, a pickle, mustard and the magic mojo sauce. Served Panini style, grilled and pressed, it's a magically crunchy mouthful of happiness that works so beautifully at so many levels.

Sadly – or not – we moved from suburban New York City to points south and lost that slice of culinary culture. The Cuban sandwich was merely a fond foodie memory from one of the epicenters of the Foodie Universe.

So maybe the New York Times was right in naming Durham one of the 41 places in the world everybody needs to visit during 2011. I certainly need to, probably weekly, if only to go to The Old Havana Sandwich shop on East Main.

One recent Saturday found us sitting by a sunny window, breakfasting on Cuban sandwiches and slow roasted plantains, chasing the whole meal with a steaming cup of café con leche.

It was crowded, filled with happy people enjoying the fare. At the Old Havana Sandwich shop, they do serve variants of the traditional Cuban sandwich. We didn't try them but you can. We stuck to the basics: a Cuban sandwich, roasted plantains and for dessert, a guava pastry. Everything was marvelous.

True to the righteous foodie form, they locally source everything. The bread comes from Guglehopf; the pork is locally raised. With a wide open kitchen, what you see is what they serve and what they serve is magical. Everything about it is authentic and real.

Maybe Hoboken is 500 miles away and Cuba is even farther and more problematic. But as long as we have the Old Havana Sandwich Shop, we don't really need either.

Old Havana Sandwich Shop

310 East Main Street

Durham, NC

TEL 919-667-9525


Cuisine: Cuban sandwiches to die for

Rating: *****

Prices: $

Atmosphere: Crowded with local foodies who know

Noise level: Quick service crowded

Open: MON. – FRI 7:30 AM – 5:30 PM; SAT 9 AM – 4PM

Reservations: Nah.

Other: Parking is problematic.

We rank restaurants in five categories: Extraordinary***** Excellent**** Above average*** Average** Fair*




 

The Joy of Comfort Food – Breakfast for Dinner

Her Imperial Majesty is a wellspring of great ideas. I don't know if she had any before she met me, but since we've been together, they've never stopped. Her latest involved a novel I wrote some 15 years ago but never published. Her genius idea from Saturday night was to post the thing in snippets on its own blog and see if we can't gin up some interest. After all, there's no point letting it sit in a box, unread and dusty.

The day after, Sunday, we went to a party at Alex's place in Greensboro and met up with two other writers, Liz and Shannon. Shannon had just acquired representation for a memoir she was working on. That set the water wheels in my head spinning. I haven't had representation since the 1990s; why not take the novel, spruce it up a bit, and send it out. Maybe the time is right.

Ah, things have changed in 15 years. Back then, the internet was new. Nobody other than geeks like me had an email address. Submissions were laborious affairs that consisted of sending stacks of paper from wherever I was to wherever the agents were, with a self-addressed stamped envelope. It was a maddening process.

Ah, close your eyes and drink in the brave new world that is the 21^st Century, with all its technical doodads that make everything go faster and faster. No longer is it necessary to transport the paper that holds the idea, simply transport the idea electronically. At the mere touch of a button, rivulets of information cascade through the cloud and land as if by magic on the right person's desktop. The 21^st Century is pretty cool when it works.

So, in order to spruce up the manuscript, I needed to create a synopsis, a short overview of what the story is, what the themes are and what the characters do. That's what I did on Wednesday. In a frenzied eight and a half hour marathon session, I cranked it out – all 3,800 words of it – a river of words and ideas that fried my brain, leaving me completely exhausted and in no mood to cook.

But right then, Her Imperial Majesty had another one of her great ideas: breakfast for dinner. It was to consist of hash browns with onions, bacon and cheese, simmered in a bit of chicken stock and seared off in a hot skillet. The eggs were to be poached by the Queen in her own fashion.

Ingredients

• 1 tablespoon of olive oil
  
• Two left over baked potatoes, peeled
  
• One onion, coarsely chopped
  
• Two or three strips of leftover bacon
  
• ¼ cup chicken stock to deglaze
  
• Shredded cheese as a garnish
  
• Two eggs, poached
  
• Salt and pepper to taste
  

Technique

• In a skillet, pour the olive oil. Once it's hot, add your potatoes and cook for about 5 minutes
  
• Add your onions and sauté for about 5 more minutes or until caramelized
  
• Deglaze your pan with the chicken stock and cook until it reduces, making sure it doesn't stick
  
• Remove the pan from the heat and add your cheese. Cover for a few minutes to let the cheese melt.
  
• Plate with your poached eggs
  

I'm not exactly sure why I so enjoy breakfast for dinner. Maybe it's a throwback to my waiter days when I would get off work at midnight and the only place open was fast food (er, no, I don't think so) or a 24 hour diner serving breakfast. Whatever it is that draws me back to breakfast for dinner, I'm glad it does. With the simplest of ingredients and barest of technique, it satisfies at so many levels. It's the perfect food to think about when I've had to think about too many things.

Salmon with prosciutto and rice peel-over

Rice pilaf is an ancient dish and cooked and consumed in its various across northern Africa and the Middle East to India. Indeed, according to Wikipedia:

The English term pilaf is borrowed directly from Turkish, which in turn comes from (Classical) Persian
پلو, Urdu pulao (پلاؤ) and Hindi pulav, and ultimately derives from Sanskrit pulaka^[2]. Depending on the local cuisine, it may also contain a variety of meat and vegetables.

The American English term "peel-over" comes from her Imperial Majesty Junior and her name for any rice dish I create that has other stuff in it.

And that's all rice pilaf is—rice with other stuff in it. And it makes a marvelous side dish to almost anything. Here' I paired it with an old favorite, salmon with prosciutto.

Ingredients

Salmon

• 1 pound Salmon filets
  
• Thinly slice prosciutto, enough to wrap each filet
  
• Olive oil to coat the fish
  

Pilaf

• ½ cup white rice
  
• ½ cup red and green lentils, soaked for two hours
  
• ½ cup meripoix (diced carrots, onions and celery, available prepackaged at better groceries)
  
• 2 ½ cups chicken stock (low sodium is fine)
  
• 1 cup of spinach, roughly chopped
  
• 1 tablespoon of rosemary, roughly chopped
  
• Olive oil for sauté
  
• A pinch of salt
  

Technique

Salmon – roast in a preheated oven at 400 degrees for 15 minutes.

Pilaf – In a two quart pan, sauté the meripoix in the olive oil for about 3 minutes, adding a pinch of salt. Next, add the rice and sauté for another three minutes. Next, add the lentils and 2 cups of the chicken stock. Simmer for about 25 minutes or until fork tender. Remove from the heat and add the spinach, the rosemary and bit more chicken stock. Keep the dish covered as the residual heat will wilt the spinach, about three minutes.

Plate and serve.

Das Kinder loved it so much, there were no leftovers. And it's a whole lot healthier than French fries. I just hope she remembers this when it's time for her to pick out my rest home.










 

Four mile Mike and the Lamb Sliders – Only Burger Durham

A friend of mine from the gym, Mike, has a hard and fast rule: he will not travel more than four miles for a meal, regardless of how good it might be.

Now, of course regular visitors to this space know I will travel an hour and a half in each direction for a really good burger; that ninety minutes of travel, even for a sloppy example of cholesterol laden paleo-burger is in no way too over the top. That supporting such retro haunts is one of the things true gourmands should indulge. He, of course, thinks my sojourns are silly (not that he would ever say that to my face) and would never embark on such a lark. And besides, it would violate his four mile rule.

In theory, he makes sense. These Calvinist times have chastened most. Traveling hours for even the best of hamburgers may come off as decadent, no matter how delicious. It makes sense to obtain some of the joys of life closer to home. As my father once opined, "one should take pleasure from one's own backyard, however humble".

The wages of such a temperate existence could very well be a life a rutted routine. Traveling well trodden trails to the same joints over and over again can become maddeningly mundane. Banality and boredom, walking hand in hand, cancel any culinary adventures. Perhaps, I should just stay home and cook spa cuisine, basking in the reflected genius of my own photogenic foodie creations.

Nah. Can't do it. There's too much good food just down the road.

And just down the road in Durham is something that has to be tasted to be believed: the lamb slider with tzatziki sauce and feta cheese at Only Burger. Brian and his staff have been the recipients of much attention before and not just from me. Her Imperial Majesty and I were big fans when he was just a food truck with an avid following. Apparently, the avid following has grown and he's added a brick and mortar location to augment his mobile empire.

Non-four mile Mike the Expediter, making sure everything
comes out right.

We popped in one recent Saturday and found the joint packed with a line out the door. We sidled up the counter (sort of like a bar) and watched his crack staff work their magic. Fries were done the right way, cooked twice in true Belgium tradition. The onion rings are enormous. And the lamb sliders?  They are, in a word, awesome. 

What always worked in a gyro, works even better in burger form. The balance of the tzatziki sauce with pungent feta against the lamb is incredible. They were also serving a Reuben burger with corned beef, slaw, pickle and Russian dressing which was good. The addition of the pickle, which is not traditionally on a Reuben sandwich, was a nice touch and added a bit of acid to balance the flavor.

But the lamb, oh the lamb. So good, so perfect, we're going back again this week. It's that good.

It is 21.86 miles from our gym to Only Burger in Durham. And while I know Mike won't venture out beyond his self-imposed four mile limit, I hope he does. Because it's that good.

Only Burger

Hope Valley Square 3710 Shannon Road,

Suite 118

Durham, NC

TEL 919-937-9377


Cuisine: Beautiful burgers

Rating: *****

Prices: $

Atmosphere: Crowded with local foodies who know

Noise level: Quick service crowded

Open: MON. - SAT. 11:00AM-9PM; SUN. 11AM-8PM

Reservations: Are you crazy?

Other: Cash, Visa and MC only – no AmEx.

We rank restaurants in five categories: Extraordinary***** Excellent**** Above average*** Average** Fair*


 

Simplify, simplify – Chicken with Leeks and Barley

Food in 21^st Century America has become so complicated that it's now intimidating. I possess hundreds of dollars worth of very ambitious cookbooks that I've only opened once, and then closed as everything in them requires high technique I can't perform and exotic ingredients that I can't find.

The ever more exotic – both in terms or technique or ingredients – makes it's difficult for real people to prepare and eat good food at home. Thoreau's dictum – "simplify, simplify" – should be a clarion call to foodies. And if it's not for you, it is for me. Working with small armies of production assistants in sparkling, high-end kitchen sets, celebrity chefs make it look so easy. And after years of marinating ourselves in untold hours of Food Network programming, it has left all too many viewers with a case of learned helplessness. They can; we can't.

Which is rubbish. As my brother-in-law Enrico once said to me, while I was stirring a pot of something, "you think you are cooking the food? No my friend, you are not cooking the food. The fire is cooking the food."

It was truly an "Aha!" moment. All one really needs to make good, wholesome food is about seven ingredients with the appropriate garnishes. And heat. That's it.

The perfect example of a simple, wholesome dish is one I purloined from a magazine 15 years ago and kicked up a bit since: Chicken with leeks and barley. It features simple, easily found ingredients and a minimum of technique. It's also low in fat and high in flavor.

Software

• I pound of boneless, skinless chicken breasts or thighs
  
• I cup pearled barley (available as bulk foods in any number of local markets)
  
• I cup of chopped leeks, cleaned
  
• 1 cup of Meripoix – diced celery, carrots and onion about, 1/3 cup of each. This is available prepared and pre-packaged in a number of local markets
  
• 1 sprig of thyme, or more if you like (I like)
  
• 1 quart chicken stock – I use fat free
  
• 1 tablespoon olive oil
  
• Grated Parmesan cheese to finish
  
• Chopped flat leave parsley to garnish (purely optional – makes it look pretty)
  

Technique

• In a 2 quart Dutch oven, heat the olive oil
  
• Add meripoix and thyme sprig and sauté for three minutes
  
• Add leeks and sauté for three minutes
  
• Add barley, sauté for three minutes
  
• Add chicken, sauté for five to seven minutes
  
• Add stock a little at a time. Simmer for 40 to 50 minutes until barley is barely al dente
• Remove thyme sprig
  
• Add Parmesan cheese and stir
  
• Plate and garnish with flat leaf parsley if you're so inclined (I am)
  

The result is simple and tasty. One can even garnish the dish with a bit more chicken stock to make it a bit soupier and less stew-like if so desired. And if you don't count the garnishes, herbs, oil, and chicken stock, its seven ingredients with almost no technique.

And heat.

A very grown up pleasure – The Wild Turkey Lounge at The Angus Barn

There are in the world, hierarchies. They exist everywhere and are a very human way for people to organize a world of chaos into a cognitive mental order.

In my high school, there were the superlatives. Mike Allocco and Doreen Iossa were "best dressed". Bill Cooper and Mary Anne Tuggle tried the hardest.

And so on.

When it comes to steakhouse, everybody has a favorite but there are only a few in the top tier. Everybody from New York City raves about Peter Luger's in Brooklyn. I've been there. I've been there and I've had the Porterhouse. It is perfect. I've also had a burger. The steak was magical; the burger, not so much. Oh it was good. But it wasn't a rave. No a great steakhouse burger doesn't come from Luger's. A better steakhouse burger lives in Raleigh.

Yeah. And I'm not just saying that because I live here. The Angus Barn does a better burger that Luger's. Hands down.

Heresy? To some, perhaps. Indeed, some people may think that going to the best steakhouse in town and ordering a burger is just silly. Dave's Rules of Restaurants explicitly stated that one should never go against the establishment's DNA. Well, the Angus Barn has DNA that very bovine. And the last time I checked, their burger was all cow.

Her Imperial Majesty and I checked into The Wild Turkey Lounge one recent Friday night and parked ourselves at the corner. The place was packed with folks waiting for their tables, although a wise few were dining at the bar. Live music from a pianist tinkled in the background while we did a couple of Wild Turkey Manhattans before dinner. Dinner at the bar consisted of a warm spinach salad and a medium burger. The salad itself – with spinach, bacon, mushrooms and hardboiled egg – wasn't warm, but is served with warm vinaigrette. The burger (a guess-timated pound – we split it) perfectly cooked to medium and served with a portion of perfectly crispy fries. . Yes they grind their own meat daily so you can enjoy it in a non-overcooked state. As we worked out way through dinner, the missus remarked that she loved the place and could grow used to coming. I concurred.

The Wild Turkey Lounge is a very grown up place. Men dress in power suits. Women are iced out and bedecked in finery. All in all, it's a very sophisticated place to spend a few hours.

In the end, we left about an hour or so later, completely sated and utterly satisfied. We knew we have been to the best in town. And we were okay with that.

The Angus Barn

9401 Glenwood Avenue
(Highway 70 at Aviation Parkway)
Raleigh, North Carolina 27617

TEL 919-781-2444
FAX 919-783-5568

Cuisine: A beefeaters paradise

Rating: *****

Prices: $$$$

Atmosphere: Coat and tie crowd.

Noise level: Moderate in The Wild Turkey Lounge

Open: MON. - SAT. 3:00PM-11PM; SUN. 3PM-10PM

Reservations: For the restaurant, yes, for the lounge, no.

Other: You can only get the burger in the Wild Turkey Lounge.

We rank restaurants in five categories: Extraordinary***** Excellent**** Above average*** Average** Fair*


 

Homage to a Pint – The Hibernian

 

I do not like to travel. And ever since 9/11, I have avoided air travel whenever possible.

And, it's not because I fear that some fool is going to crash the plane I'm riding in into a Wal-Mart™. No, I hate travel because I get profiled walking through the airport.

Let's face facts: I'm not a terrorist threat to anyone with the possible exception of my in-laws. Indeed, I could show up at terminal two at RDU in a Dale Earnhardt tee shirt and a Red Man Chewing Tobacco hat – with a police record as clean and pure as the wind driven snow – and I'd still be treated as a suspect. I dearly wish that the TSA would start profiling young men who have just visited Pakistan, or Afghanistan, or Waziristan or Jennifer-anistan or you-don't-understand-astan and leave me alone. I'd like to be free to move about the planet. With my shoes on.

Once upon a time – before all the unpleasantness – I did move around the planet. I once pulled a gig in London, peddling somebody else's software to a major retailer. It landed me in Kensington and around the corner from a wonderful little local pub. There was football on every evening and the crowd were raucous. The fish and chips were served with mushy peas seasoned with mint. Bloody awful, they were. And very hard to choke down with a warm pint of Bass.

Which presented me with a dilemma; what do I drink in the pub while in London? The usual suspects were all warm-ish ales, stouts, lagers and the like. The solution was Strongbow, a fairly dry British cider served chilled. Ever since that week in London, I drink almost nothing else when I go to The Pub.

Her Imperial Majesty and I will only frequent local pubs that serve it. Our favorite is The Hibernian on Glenwood, downtown. There, they pull a perfect pint.

That's not to say that we ignore the food. We don't. Indeed, I had dinner there last night with a business associate. The curried wings were marvelous. And most of the things that come out of Chef Ali's kitchen are terrific. His fish and chips are better than what I had in London (no mushy peas here) and the Shepherd's Pie is wonderful. Everything I've ever had there is spot on. Managers Gerry and Darren are always there give hugs to Her Imperial Majesty. Her Imperial Majesty Junior gets a Fizzy Izzy without having to ask.

But the pints, oh the pints. Strongbow is tart, yet balanced, and not too sweet. Overall its much drier that any American cider I've ever tried.
It's not sold in stores in the Triangle. The only place in the state you can buy it cans or bottles is Greensboro and I guess that's okay. That just means I'll be back at my perch. At the Hibernian.

Gerry and Darren -- guess who's on the clock and who's not.

Hibernian Restaurant & Pub  
Raleigh Location:
311 Glenwood Ave.
Raleigh, NC 27603
Phone: 919-833-2258
Fax: 919-833-2275

Cary Location:
1144 Kildaire Farm Rd.
Cary, NC 27511
Phone: 919-467-9000
Fax 919-460-6599

Cuisine: Pub grub done right, served with a pint of Strongbow

Rating: ****

Prices: $$

Atmosphere: Quintessential pub

Noise level: low to moderate

Open: Mon – Sun 11 am to 2 am

Reservations: I guess, but I never bothered.

Other: Takes all plastic, nightly drink specials

We rank restaurants in five categories: Extraordinary***** Excellent**** Above average*** Average** Fair*

 

“If it tastes half as good as it smells, this will be a home run” – Dame’s Chicken and Waffles

It's hard to precisely place the exact time in the last three years that home ownership ceased being an asset and started becoming a liability.

But it did.

In these rather Calvinist times, the ostentatious display of wealth – whether in the form of giant McMansions or over the top bits of high buck, four-wheeled Euro-steel – has transcended mere bad taste; it's an affront to the very dignity of those whose lives and livelihoods have been trampled by fate. These dour economic straits have a lot of Americans by the throat, and the rest of us looking over our shoulders. Whereas once, one could daydream about winning the lottery and buying, say, a 1,000 horsepower, quad turbo V-16 Bugatti Veyron for a cool million, instead, today one might want something a bit more downscale, rightly fearing retaliation from pissed off passersby. America is not yet Cairo, but the same tensions are in place. Better a lower profile than a higher one.

But the belt tightening isn't just limited to "In Your Face" conspicuous consumption; it comes with a metaphysical component. And statistics prove it. Fine dining out; casual dining in.

All of which suits me just fine. The fewer pretenses served with my lunch, the better. Comfort food = soul food = happiness.

And for a weekend breakfast, there is no better place to do the whole comfort food thing than Dame's Chicken and Waffles in Durham.

Chicken? Waffles? Together?

Ah, yes. Like the holy combination of chocolate and peanut butter, fried chicken and waffles (with copious amounts of maple syrup) provide for a beautiful study in contrasts. The light, crispy waffle stands aside as a near perfect partner to crunchy, buttermilk fried chicken.

Her Imperial Majesty and I opted for a Quilted Buttercup, a fried chicken breast sandwiched between two sweet potato waffles and an optional side of wings. The effect was superb. Served with a "shmear" of maple and candied pecan butter, the dish nicely balances both sweet and savory. The light fluffiness of the waffles was a perfect counter balance to the heartiness of the perfectly fried but in no way greasy chicken. With large portions, her Imperial Majesty and I split one order and walked away well sated.

The entrée came with a side of mac and cheese which was okay but not great. But why carp? It didn't say Dame's Mac and Cheese on the door. No, it's all about the chicken and waffles and they are outstanding.

We got there just in time to snag a spot at the bar ('natch). When we left, it was lined out the door, as well it should. It was indeed, a home run.

You know, no less than the New York Times said that there are 41 places in the world that one must simply visit in 2011 and Durham, NC made the list. I wonder if Dame's Chicken and Waffles is the reason. I'd like to think so.

Dame's Chicken and Waffles

317 W. Main Street

Durham, NC 27701

(919) 682-9235

dameschickenwaffles.com

Cuisine: Chicken and Waffles

Rating: *****

Prices: $

Atmosphere: Urban hip

Noise level: moderate

Open: Mon, Sun 11 am - 3 pm; Tue-Thu 11 am - 8 pm; Fri 11 pm - 12 am

Reservations: Of course not.

Other: yes, they take plastic

We rank restaurants in five categories: Extraordinary***** Excellent**** Above average*** Average** Fair*

 

Visitors from out of town and the Pasta with No Name

As Her Imperial Majesty opines continuously, Raleigh is not the kind of place that anybody ever wants to visit. Oh, it's a nice enough place to live – great schools, moderate weather, reasonable taxes and governance – but it is not "A Destination".

New York City? Sure. San Francisco? Undoubtedly. Orlando? 'Natch. One could even lump Asheville or Wilmington unto a short list of places that friends from New York would stop by if they were passing through. But Raleigh? Fuhgeddaboutit.

But some situations are not hard fast and sometimes business comes a calling. Such was the case over the weekend when my brother-in-law Enrico came to town. He was here to work the Fly Fishing Show at the Fair Grounds. I picked him up at the airport and shuttled him around town on Friday afternoon, only to end up at the local Whole Foods. He asked what I wanted to eat for dinner. I said, "Chef, whatever looks good to you."

Before Enrico was titan of fly fishing world, he was a classically trained chef who grew up on the slopes of Mt. Etna. And when he cooks, its mind-bendingly good and astonishingly simple. Cucina rustica, I like to call it.

So we wandered a bit around the Whole Foods, seeing what looked good and what was merely okay. He strolled passed the fish and didn't notice it at all, stopping in front of the meat. About 20 seconds passed before he caught the attention of the butcher.

"Can I see what a pound of bacon looks like?" he asked.

"Sure" came the call from behind the counter. Enrico looked over at me.

"That looks like good bacon."

"Going to do a Carbonara?" I asked. He shook his head indicating the negative.

"I don't know what I'm gonna do".

He thought a minute, and headed down the canned veggie aisle, grabbing a can of diced tomatoes. Next, he stopped and picked up a box of whole wheat linguine. Then, he headed to produce to pick up a couple of red onions, with Her Imperial Majesty Junior following behind with the cart.

"Can you get some half and half. I'm going to pick out a salad." I immediately stopped what I was doing and blasted over to diary to get the half and half. When I arrived back, Chef was eyeballing the green leaf lettuce and the organic spinach.

"That is really green spinach. It's looking good to me". He smiled.

And that was the genesis of the Pasta with No Name.

Ingredients

• Three ounce olive oil for cooking
  
• Two large red onions, peeled and diced
  
• One 28 ounce can of diced tomatoes
  
• One pound of good bacon, thick cut, and diced
  
• Eight ounces half and half
  
• ¼ cup of white wine
  
• 1 tablespoon of fresh thyme
  
• One pound whole wheat pasta
  
• Parmesan Cheese
  
• Salt and pepper to taste
  

Technique

• Add olive to deep four quart dutch oven
  
• Add diced onions and a bit of salt to make them sweat. Cooked on high heat covered for about five minutes
  
• Add the bacon and cook for another five minutes
  
• De-glaze with the white wine
  
• Add the can of tomatoes and cook for another ten minutes
  
• Add thyme and cook another ten minutes
  
• Add the half and half and reduce and stir until thickened.
  
• Toss with al dente pasta and Parmesan Cheese. Serve with a green salad.
  

Simple, quick and delicious. Bon Appétit!