Sometimes I feel like the world is my oyster–and it’s rotten. My life hasn’t been all peaches and cream. I’ve had many moments that were starved of joy. Haven’t we all? I suppose that’s why when life is truly delicious, with whipped cream and a cherry on top, I try so desperately to savor the experience entirely. You never know when something sweet will give way to sour.
One of the sweetest things in my life is my lovely neighbor and friend, Katie Jo. For those not in the know, Katie Jo is the content queen for Junk Ditch Brewing. There are few human beings who more closely embody a literal ray of sunshine. Whether navigating the mean streets of Fort Wayne, the local food scene, or my own sometimes messy life: since the day we met, Katie Jo has always been there to offer guidance, moral support, and infectious laughter. Get yourself a friend who is literally the best hype-person in the business! I count myself endlessly lucky to know Katie Jo. They have the biggest heart. To wit, it has been their dream to share a meal with their nearest and dearest foodie friends. When they were able to score a table for the sake of “content creation” at the very first in an upcoming series of Monday Night Tasting Dinners at Junk Ditch Brewing, I was fortunate enough to be one of the people they considered a foodie friend. Be still my freaking heart. To be considered not just a friend, but a foodie friend, by Katie Jo is definitely one of the sweeter moments in my life. It was my honeyed-delight to dine with Katie Jo, Will, and Volchy at Junk Ditch’s first Monday Night Tasting Dinner. I wish I were smug enough to refer to us as the crème de la crème of the Fort Wayne foodie scene–but I’m not. (And I certainly don’t want to hurt the feelings of other brilliant locals who weren’t present at our dinner table–but you should be so lucky. Hate us ‘cause you ain’t us.) Here’s the facts: we are indisputably cutie pies and we sure do know some shit when it comes to culinary delights. Thank you, thank you, a million times thank you to Katie Jo and Junk Ditch Brewing for making this dinner possible.
The evening was lovely. Obviously, the company was exceptional. It’s not often that I get to dine in the presence of such absolutely darling and brilliant human beings; all entirely gorgeous, well spoken, and with such impeccable taste. These people shine like neon signs in a dark alleyway after midnight–beacons of good times, good food, and good vibes. The high-octane gourmandizing camaraderie of my dining companions could have easily overshadowed a mediocre meal; but this is Junk Ditch we’re talking about. The food more than held its own against the presence of my esteemed companions: and we all enjoyed the experience very much. Bet. We delighted in the five course tasting menu with optional beer pairings to compliment.
The menu was released in advance of the evening and I know that there were some individuals who questioned if the $65 price tag (plus additional $25 if you wished to partake in the beer pairing) was a worthwhile investment–particularly because some of the menu items were, perhaps, unusual to the less adventurous eater. I hate to repeat myself, but I will scream this from the rooftops until you all hear me: we don’t really know what we like! We think we know our own palates intimately, but we’re all sort of idiots. In truth, you can’t really know that you don’t like something until it’s in your mouth. And just because you never liked beets before, and you didn’t like beets yesterday, it doesn’t mean you won’t enjoy a particular preparation of beets if you simply try them today. I’m begging you: explore. I’m urging you–try! I’m asking you to push your own boundaries. I fully believe that there are certain restaurants where (and certain chefs with whom) it is safer to be adventurous. Junk Ditch is one of the local establishments where I genuinely feel you can more easily let your guard down and simply trust that whatever is presented to you will be delish–whether you think you will like it or not. I went into this dinner fully armed with the knowledge that there were certain items on the menu that, perhaps, weren’t my favorite foods. Nevertheless I remained hopeful that it would be a tremendously yummy evening. I trust Junk Ditch. I trust my friends. I haven’t been let down yet.
The first taste to begin our evening was a bread plate complete with gougères and a vegan focaccia. The vegan focaccia was surprisingly pleasant–and I only say “surprisingly” because my bread preference tends to lie with enriched doughs benefiting from all the animal fats the planet has to offer. Give me a buttery brioche and I’m a happy girl. But this vegan focaccia did not disappoint. The texture was pillowy and the flavor was complex. Primarily herbaceous bites of rosemary, punctuated with bursts of bright salt, and a subtle hint of earthiness from porcini: the bread was dope. But, my friends, the gougères were heaven. I am obsessive about these traditional little French bites of cheesy choux. The last time that I had the pleasure of eating them was when celebrating my last birthday at a French bistro in Indianapolis. On that evening, the gougères were yummy AF, but my complaint was that they fell a little flat. I had no such complaint about the gougères produced by Junk Ditch. They were puffed to perfection, light yet satisfying, and bursting with scrumptious buttery-cheesy-flavor. I think I ate three before consciously restraining myself from asking for more. I could eat gougères all day long. If these were a regular menu item, it would be something I’d order for every visit. Hands down. Not up for debate. Fort Wayne is, frankly, lacking when it comes to skillful execution of French cuisine. The simple, humble gougère deserves to be represented on somebody’s menu–so I was beyond delighted to have the privilege of enjoying them last night! Now I’ll just be over here minding my business and quietly hoping that they make another appearance at Junk Ditch.
Next, an amuse-bouche: because is it really a Junk Ditch meal without an extra “unexpected” little bite to get the party started? This one-bite-wonder was essentially a deconstructed potato salad. Creamy aioli, tender tater, pickled vibes (primarily from mustard seed) and grated egg yolk all came together to create a decidedly satisfying nibble. My dining companions and I all agreed: there’s never enough aioli anytime, anyplace, anywhere. But, we are all aioli monsters; more than happy to swim up to our elbows in the stuff and never fearing the mess we make as we relish in delicious creaminess. I would gladly munch this potato salad again, but I have to preface this by admitting that I am fully a mustard girl. If you don’t like mustard in your potato salad, perhaps this isn’t for you…and, if that’s the case, perhaps I’m not for you, either. My love of mustard is non-negotiable and shared enthusiasm for mustard is a quality I look for in my nearest and dearest. If you’ve got mustard problems, I feel bad for you, hun–don’t look in my fridge, you’ll have a panic attack when you see the myriad bottles of mustard.
The first plate of the evening was Oyster with Kimchi, Tomatillo, Bonito, Onion, and Lemon. Each diner received two small oysters to enjoy–delightfully teensy and cute! The balance of oceanic brine and heat played swimmingly together. This plate was so enthusiastically enjoyed by my table that it immediately prompted a discussion about how far we’d have to drive to reach the East Coast to enjoy oysters–because two oysters is simply not enough. Two is the perfect number of oysters to make you crave more oysters. Two is the perfect number of oysters to awaken the slumbering oyster crazed beast in your belly. Two is the perfect number of oysters to start–but not end–your meal. When it was decided that a drive to the East Coast was simply too long of a journey, we started looking for flights to New Orleans. (Shout out to Mr. Ed’s Oyster Bar–I fucking miss you, baby.) So…I guess you could say we enjoyed the oysters. We honestly debated dropping hundreds of dollars on a plane ticket just to satisfy our now insatiable lust for more oysters. So, yeah…nice going, Junk Ditch…you gave me oysters so good that I almost made bad decisions. This first plate was paired with the Dach Pils which is objectively my favorite Junk Ditch beer. It’s the first beer that I ever tried at Junk Ditch and it came highly recommended by multiple beer-enthusiast friends–and for good reason: it’s superb. This crisp German lager is refreshing enough to be a porch sipper, but refined enough to more-than-deserve a place on your dinner table. The noble hops played nicely with the oysters. It was certainly a delicious start to the evening–they set the bar high with this first pairing!
The next plate in our pairing adventure was a tomato salad topped with a more than generous slice of Capriole O’Bannon goat cheese, a fine chiffonade of mint, and fried quinoa. Honestly, for me, this is the “it” plate of the summer and will live rent-free in my mind at least until the weather changes–maybe longer. As far as I’m concerned, this dish summed up the summer experience–like some sort of piquant, pithy thesis statement–in just a few bites. Bright, acidic, umami tomato paired with lusciously creamy goat cheese and then punctuated with the crisp nuttiness of the quinoa–sheeeeeeeeesh! As much as some of the other plates, perhaps, have more “wow factor,” this is the one that I actually want to eat again and again. Simple ingredients coming together to create something more than the sum of their parts–there’s no culinary feat more exciting, in my humble opinion. This plate was paired with the Midwest Nice, an IPA that even this IPA-hater could love. I found this beer perfectly sippable thanks in large part to it being well-balanced rather than hop-centric; it certainly elevated the tomato salad, which is exactly what you want from a good pairing. Katie Jo had the brilliant idea of using some of our remaining herbaceous vegan focaccia to sop up the saucy tomato goodness–probably the biggest boss move of the evening. I can’t recommend this tasty hack highly enough. Had I been alone and not in the company of GOATs at a nice restaurant, I probably would have been licking this plate like the trash panda heathen I am. I really did enjoy it that much.
After the salad, we moved on to pasta. I’m sure y’all are probably getting sick of me writing about pasta…but I’m not getting sick of eating it. I’ve got words–so pay attention, cuties. This Gemelli with Fennel, Peppadew, Tomato, and Octopus was exceptional. I know my dining companions were apt to rate this dish the best of the evening–and other diners who stopped by our table to greet Katie Jo (Behold! The neverending toils of being the popular kid!) even commented on how much they enjoyed this pasta dish. I’m going to quote myself and rehash my new favorite catch phrase, but this time I mean something a little different when I say it. “Pasta is never just pasta.” On this particular evening, it was my first time in a long time re-trying octopus. For me, this pasta dish was a boundary pushing experience: it challenged my ethics. I typically refuse to eat octopus–they’re such intelligent creatures and it’s easy to avoid, so I just don’t. As an omnivore, I struggle with the ethics of my willingness to consume animal proteins. I’m absolutely not saying that one life matters more than another, but if I had to rank which animal protein I’d quit first, octopus is near the top of my list. I just feel like maybe we shouldn’t eat big-brained cephalopods that are consistently smart enough to break free of the cages we put them in, like state-of-the-art aquarium enclosures. It’s not like octopus is a common protein on every menu in town; so my aversion doesn’t really impact my daily life. But I went into this evening fully aware and mentally prepared that I was going to eat octopus–because I wanted to experience every aspect of this meal as intended. Period. My willingness to push my own boundaries paid off–it tasted good. My foodie friends, who all have more experience with octopus than I do, assured me that this was an exceptional preparation of octopus–a perfectly crisp exterior and excellent flavor. My dining buddy Will explained octopus as “slightly funky lobster,” and I think that is the best description of this food. I certainly couldn’t put it better, so I borrowed his words with his permission. I won’t be adding octopus into my usual rotation of foods; not because of flavor, but because of my own feelings on the subject of the consumption of octopus. With that said, I’m so glad I trusted Junk Ditch and tried octopus. All of my personal feelings aside, it really was a lovely plate. But, in truth: I personally would have probably enjoyed the pasta just as much even if the excellently prepared octopus had not been included. It was a great little plate of pasta! The fresh noodles were accompanied by a sauce of sofrito and confit tomato with just the slightest kick of heat, crunchy hazelnuts, and funky brine–paired with the Batch Extra Strong Bitter, it was a match made in heaven. The amber hued ale provided a light, hoppy sip to balance the just slightly spicy pasta.
The main plate of the evening also challenged my personal boundaries. While this plate offered the option of having either Quail or Veal Cheek as the main protein, I consciously chose the protein that pushed my ethics slightly more. Typically, veal is an absolute nonstarter for me. So, you may be curious why I’d opt for the Veal Cheek with Red Pea, Corn, and Chow Chow rather than partake in a porcini stuffed quail. Simply put: I trust Junk Ditch because I know that they source their proteins thoughtfully. White veal is, inarguably, inhumanely raised–but that simply isn’t what was served by Junk Ditch. They sourced their veal from Strauss Farm; a local farm utilizing European, free-ranging practices to raise pink veal. While not as ultra-tender as white veal, this dish was still insanely lush–no knife needed–and we could all feel less guilty enjoying it knowing that the veal was sourced locally and as ethically as possible. The beer pairing for this dish was the Viceroy–the standout beer of the evening. This brandy barrel-aged Maibock was big in every sense of the word. Seriously, this beer was a whole mood. This sip wasn’t a “sucker punch to the tastebuds,” as I so often say–this was an assertive slap across the face. This beer is classy, sassy, and knows its worth. It delivered dark, sweet, intense notes–perhaps caramel? I didn’t take notes because I was enjoying my dining experience too much to geek out that hard. As a writer, I’m regretting that decision now, just a little bit. (But I’m also proud of myself for just living in the moment. So, sorry–not sorry.) Big. Bold. Beautiful. The pairing was exceptional. Well freaking done, Junk Ditch. All involved in the creation of this should be tremendously proud of themselves.
To close out a lovely evening, we enjoyed Chocolate Crémeux with Berries and Caramelized Nut Brittle. Shards of chocolate cake, topped with thick and decadent chocolate crémeux, were punctuated with strawberries, blueberries, and a generous scattering of salty pine nut brittle. The chocolate crémeux was luxurious and pleasantly bitter–which I enjoyed tremendously when coupled with the salty pine nut brittle. The Starlight Stout paired nicely with this; because who doesn’t love a small stout alongside a decadent chocolate dessert? Notes of coffee and chocolate in the beer play brilliantly against the bitter chocolate of the crémeux and cake. But, to be fair, I was a little bit beered out by the end of the meal and that’s on me. I wanted to experience everything the evening had to offer–even the beer pairings–but truth be told, I’m no beer aficionado.
I went into the experience with an empty belly and an open mind. With the safety net of good friends at my table, I chose to allow my boundaries to be pushed, my ethics to be challenged, and my taste buds tantalized with flavors–some familiar, some not. I arrived at the restaurant fully armed with the knowledge that there were certain items on the menu that, perhaps, weren’t my favorite foods: but nevertheless I remained hopeful. Sometimes hope pays off. I left Junk Ditch with a full belly and heart: delighted by the truly masterful cuisine that I was treated to, just slightly buzzy from artisanally crafted beers, glowing from good times with good friends, and genuinely proud of myself for stepping outside of my comfort zone so that I could fully experience every delicious thing the evening had to offer. I trust Junk Ditch. I trust my friends. I haven’t been let down yet. Thank you, thank you, thank you for such a satisfying dining experience! I look forward to more Monday Night Tasting Dinners at Junk Ditch Brewing.
Plonk & Pleasure 
Leave a comment