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260xRunex2Toms: I only want to live in a world with chicken liver French toast…
Currently, I find myself in the strange place of having a million things that I want to say, yet I find myself at a loss for words. I just had the opportunity to meet some of the kindest, most talented, genuinely beautiful people I’ve ever met in my life and, at the same time, indulge in some of the most delicious food that I’ve ever had the pleasure of feasting upon. Tonight was a special evening, and not just because I got to meet amazing people. Tonight was the 260xRunex2Toms pop-up dinner. I’ve long wanted to try a Rune pop-up dinner. Unfortunately, being relatively new to the area, I’m still learning the ropes. I would often not find out about these pop-ups until after they’d happened or, on the few occasions that I learned about them before they were over, I didn’t have the necessary funds to secure a pricey ticket to one of these esteemed events. Tonight’s event was not just different because it was a collaboration between Chef Sean of Rune and Chef Rio of Shop260 and Brew260 fame–unlike many other pop-up dinner events to happen in Fort Wayne, the event tonight was not ticketed. Instead, the model was first come, first serve–giving all the opportunity to come and taste as much, or as little, as they’d like. I got to 2Toms early, because there was no way I was going to risk any of these dishes selling out–that and when it gets too peopley out, I get weird(er), and I knew this event was bound to draw a crowd. This is the first time that being a weirdo has really ever paid off for me–turns out, the event sold out by 7:00pm.
As much as I’d like to spend paragraphs fangirling over how lucky I was to meet Kyle: maestro of sourdough, Olive: social media guru, and Chef Rio, with whom I had one of the most meaningful interactions I’ve ever had with another human being–this is a food and wine blog, not just a ‘things that make me deliriously happy’ blog. And besides, even if this was just a ‘things that make me deliriously happy’ blog, the food that I ate tonight would still be a main topic. I had high hopes and higher expectations for what I would taste this evening–Chef Rio and Chef Sean surpassed my expectations tenfold and created a meal more delicious than anything I could have ever hoped for. Bravo, bravo, bravissimo, fuck yeah, get it–these chefs slayed tonight!
The menu consisted of seven small plates paired thoughtfully with four different beers and one mead. Obviously, I tried it all–like I would even consider half-assing a once-in-a-lifetime dinner like this. Often, the first course of a tasting menu is good and sets a standard for the rest of the meal, but seldom is it great. Somebody explain to me how these chefs managed to make the ‘salad’ on the menu not only one of the dopest plates of the evening, but possibly one of the most delicious things I’ve ever eaten. The Celery Root Salad with crispy beef brisket and nước chấm was fire. To call it a salad would honestly be reductive; meaty cubes of brisket created a delicious bite amongst the Celery Root Salad dressed in a bright and acidic nước chấm. Paired with 2Toms West Coast AF Pilsner, this easily was not just one of my favorite bites, but one of my favorite pairings of the evening. The straw-colored Pilsner was crisp, lightly hopped, and the perfect sip for this salad.
The Pilsner was also the recommended pairing for the second plate; Potato Gratin. This particular gratin was comprised of russet potato, fennel, and a more than generous serving of Gruyère cheese. If you’re the picky-type to get a little freaked out by eating greens, this Potato Gratin came in clutch to make you feel better with all of its warm, carby, cheesy, delicious goodness. With its ooey-gooey potato-fennel-cheese layers and crispy cheese top, nothing about this dish could disappoint anyone–ever–unless maybe they were lactose intolerant. (Which, in that case, pop a Lactaid and enjoy, my friend! We only live once!) My biggest, and really only, regret of the evening is that I shared too many bites of this plate. I should have been greedy and kept it to myself.
If I say the third dish of the evening was one of the best things I’ve ever eaten, I wouldn’t be lying, but you also might not believe me because I’ve been so complimentary thus far. (Spoiler alert: I have no bad things to say. Buckle in and get ready to read some praise porn.) The French Toast was certainly not your mom’s French toast, unless your mom is an innovative chef making French toast with chicken livers that deftly walks the line between sweet and savory. I’m a girl who loves a pâté but, to be honest, I’d never just eaten chicken liver before so I wasn’t entirely certain how I’d feel about this dish. Turns out, I feel really, really freaking good about it. The Shop260 sourdough bread was transformed into amazing French toast cubes–perfectly crusted outside, yet remaining almost custard-like on the inside. These cubes were accompanied with chicken livers; which added an incredibly creamy mouthfeel and an earthy quality to the dish that typical French toasts simply lack. All was lightly dressed in a lime maple syrup and, holy cow, I would fall in love with anyone who ever served this to me for breakfast–cause mornings don’t have to be *just* sweet. This dish was paired with the only mead of the evening: a Cherry Vanilla Mead. While I typically love mead, this one wasn’t really for me. I’m not a cherry girl. I try so hard not to yuck anything, so I wanted to try this mead even knowing that I’m not a cherry lover. This mead is for those who enjoy a very sweet, cherry-centric sip: it’s co-fermented local wildflower honey and cherries, later conditioned on vanilla creating a sweet, thick mead–almost syrupy in texture. I absolutely see why it would pair well with the French Toast in theory and I’m really glad that I decided to try them both together. I personally wouldn’t do the mead again; but I would eat the French Toast every damn day of my life from now until forever and I’m pretty sure I’d never get sick of it.
Now, real quick, let me shit talk myself for a moment: I have a tiny mouth, a weak jaw, and sensitive teeth. For this reason, like hell are you ever going to catch me eating ribs in public. Tearing meat off of bones with my teethies is an eternal battle for me–one that I am perpetually, humiliatingly losing. I am not a wild animal. I am a sad, weak-jawed girl who struggles to chomp meat off the bone. Needless to say, I was heckin’ nervous about the Spare Ribs plate. But, jeez-o-pete, these ribs were so tender that I suffered zero humiliation and had exactly 0% trouble eating them. The ribs are glazed in a honey, miso, chile BBQ sauce, topped with a subtle dusting of cornbread gremolata, and served with a side of green apple slaw. While eating the ribs, I got some BBQ glaze on my fingers, and had to stop myself from eating my arm off all the way up to the elbow–the BBQ sauce was seriously that succulent. I’d bathe in it–and probably immediately regret my choices because chile and lady-bits don’t mix–but I’d still do it even forearmed with that knowledge. As for the slaw, you already know I’m going to tell you that it was great. Bright, crisp, acidic, everything you could possibly want in a slaw. The green apple was a knockout. The fruit and veggies on this plate are not background actors, extras, or even supporting actors: they are an integral part of an ensemble cast coming together with the ribs to create an exceptionally tasty treat. This dish was paired with the 2Bees Imperial IPA with honey. If you’ve read any of my other beer-centric blogs, you already know I’m not a huge fan of IPAs. So, with that in mind, I’ll give you my dining companion’s take on the beer rather than my own: he wants to go back and get a pint just to enjoy it. As much as he also loved the food, I think this beer was one of the highlights of his evening.
The Pork Belly plate was entirely not what I expected: it was probably the lightest, most refreshing application of pork belly I’ve ever had the pleasure of enjoying. This dish truly felt like a study of how to perfectly balance salt, fat, acid, heat. My lips definitely got some tingle from this dish, but nothing about it was overly-spicy, and it paired dreamily with the newly released Pinkies Out: Why so Blue, Barb blueberry rhubarb Sour Milkshake IPA. Now, as a girl who just a few sentences ago expressed that IPAs are not her drink of preference, I have to say that I would drink this without reservation. It is one of the first and only IPAs I’ve ever enjoyed. If my friend goes back to get a pint of the 2Beers Imperial IPA, I might consider joining him for this Sour Milkshake IPA that is tart and sweet in all the right ways.
Now, for the triumph of the evening: Beef Cheek Ragu paired with the Veraison Farmhouse Lager aged in TwoEE’s barrels. Before going to dinner, I texted my mom to tell her about the experience because I was excited and wanted to share my excitement with her. I sent her a copy of the menu. She replied, “Beef cheek has been a long time coming.” (Cute emojis redacted because some things are just between a mom and her kid.) The lady raised me and she knows a few things about me: one being that I have a deep love of beef cheek. Seriously, beef cheek has no right to be as gosh darn delicious as it is. Anyone who knows me will not be surprised that this was my favorite dish of the evening. An herbed ricotta dumpling dressed in tender beef cheek and San Marzano tomato sauce. To drink, a Veraison Farmhouse Lager aged in Two EE’s barrels and truly serving as the epitome of beer-for-a-wine lover. Named for the onset of ripening for the grapes, this beer is aged in secondary with Grenache and Malbec grape pomace. (For those who aren’t wine-weirdos; pomace is simply what’s left of the grape after the pressing process. The more you know!) If the Sour Milkshake IPA is the beer I want to go back for a pint of, this is the beer I want to take home a growler full of. I know that this was just another pairing on a pre-designed menu that was being served on an evening when nobody really knew or cared that I was going to show up and eat all the food–but somehow this pairing felt particularly serendipitous to me. One of my favorite foods, prepared splendidly, and paired with a beer made for wine-lovers: simply serendipitous. I had this strange experience, that I’m not sure anyone will understand, while enjoying my Beef Cheek Ragu and Farmhouse Lager. I was so completely enraptured with the experience that everything else melted away. The line for this pop-up was ever growing as I dined, the Barrel Room that I had expertly tucked myself away in was becoming more crowded with each passing minute, but I felt entirely alone with my food–and I mean that in the best way possible. I could have been eating the ragu and sipping the lager on a crowded New York City subway car during peak commuter hours and I wouldn’t have noticed anyone around me. It was just me, the Beef Cheek Ragu, and the Veraison Farmhouse Lager–and I loved every precious moment of it. Not to be grim, but I think this is what I want as my last meal. If I ever find myself in the unfortunate position of ending up on death row, I’ll have to call Chef Sean, Chef Rio, and 2Tom’s for the hook-up. This was not just one of the best things I’ve ever eaten; it was one of the best food and beer pairings I’ve ever experienced.
As for dessert, it was great–duh! But when is “bad” ever really a word used to describe any dessert? I think, at worst, dessert can be “meh.” This dessert, however, was far from meh. (I fucked up a little and let the ice cream melt a bit before snagging a photo of this plate–my apologies to the people who worked so hard to craft it.) I’m a pie girl, through and through, but rhubarb pie has never really been my thing. My grammy used to grow rhubarb. Something about her love for it, and constantly trying to force feed me it as a kid, really turned me off of the stuff. The Rhubarb Pie that I tried tonight may have just converted me from a hater to a lover. Tart and warm with a sweet oat streusel, there was nothing not to like about this pie. It was made all the more perfect by the blueberry vanilla soft serve ice cream that accompanied it. Sweet, vanilla forward, with gorgeous swirls of blueberry throughout, this ice cream was perfectly creamy with just a tiny hint of that awesome icy texture that you sometimes get from a homemade ice cream. I loved it. But, let’s get real, warm pie and cold ice cream–is there anything better? Pie and ice cream is an iconic duo and the chefs really turned this basic pairing up to eleven.
To say that I had a good evening would be a vast understatement. Tonight was amazing. The food was sublime. The people were beyond kind. Chef Sean and Chef Rio are masters of their crafts and deserve all the standing ovations, hugs, and accolades that the universe has to offer. If this collaboration never happens again, I am so grateful that I got to be there tonight to experience this delicious union. But, truth be told, I’m going to waste all my wishes between now and forever that I’ll get to taste these superb dishes again…and again…and again…or even just one more time, please. I don’t want to live in a world without chicken liver French toast.
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Country Heritage Winery: Picturesque and Unpretentious
“In the lea of a picturesque ridge lies a small, unpretentious winery, one that pampers its fruit like its own babies.” Many of us have heard this quote before (and then proceeded to nearly pee our pants laughing) but how many of us have been to a winery that was both picturesque and unpretentious. Unfortunately, snobbery and wine often seem to go hand in hand. It’s something that I have many strong feelings about, but I’ll save that tirade for another day. For those of us who love wine, but not the hoity-toity pretense that accompanies it, there is hope. Country Heritage Winery in LaOtto, Indiana offers a picturesque winery, situated on a small vineyard, with none of the pretense.
I was fortunate enough to score tickets to the Winemaker’s Barrel Tasting. After being waitlisted, I received a phone call that there’d been a cancellation and I would be able to attend. At roughly $50 a ticket, this wasn’t an experience I was willing to miss out on. Prior to this tasting, I’d never been to Country Heritage Winery. I’d gotten a few of their bottles from the store, so I had some limited experience sipping some of their offerings in the comfort of my own home, but I had no idea what to expect from the winery. I dressed for a wine tasting which, in my mind, requires something more than what you might wear to the grocery store. Upon arrival, I found myself devastatingly overdressed. Blue jeans seem to be the dress code of most patrons and, given the rustic wood interior and back room full of taxidermy, blue jeans are appropriate for this location. The vibe at Country Heritage is thus: you’re going to drink some amazing wine and you’re going to feel comfortable doing it.
A small group of us gathered in a hallway flanked with accolades and awards that the winery had received. There, we waited in hushed anticipation of what the evening would bring. The tasting was meant to start promptly at six o’clock, which it did. Not dissimilar to the famous scene from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory where Gene Wilder flings open the gates with youthful exuberance and ushers in the lucky golden ticket holders, at six o’clock the doors to the barrel room were opened for our lucky few. As our group filed into the barrel room, we were told what to expect from the evening, what wines we would be trying, and were first introduced to the winemaker himself. Kevin was born and raised in Indiana and makes all of the wines for Country Heritage. He has an amazing nose and can, reportedly, tell if anything is slightly off in one of the fermentation tanks upon simply walking into the room. He will notice the smell and then need to check each individual tank to assess where the smell is coming from and what the cause may be. His philosophy for winemaking is simple and admirable: grow a good grape and let the wine make itself. He was also adamant about one thing that our tasting experience would not be: pretentious. Needless to say, I liked Kevin immediately.
From the Barrel Room, we were ushered into a second room: the walls flanked high with bottle upon bottle of wine. The room, at capacity, could hold 2,557 bottles of wine. On this particular evening, it held somewhere roughly in the vicinity of 2,000. All the bottles in the room were considered ‘reserve’ bottles and would, typically, not be on offer for tasting at the winery. Among the varied array of bottles were two bottles of an oak aged Chardonnay that we did not get to taste. As I understand it, only those two bottles remain at the winery and, according to all who tried it, it was one of the best Chardonnays they had ever sampled. The French oak barrel it had been aged in cost over $1,000 and was sold after this small batch of Chardonnay was made: there were only ever about 300 bottles in circulation. They didn’t know how spectacular it would be until it had finished aging. It made me wonder what other spectacular bottles I was standing in the company of.
In this room, we had our first sip: the 2022 Traminette. This was paired with vegetarian spring rolls. The wine had just been bottled recently. Roughly 1,000 were made. Unfortunately, due to a “deer infestation,” half of their normal crop yield of Traminette grapes was lost. Typically, somewhere between 2,000 and 3,000 bottles would be made: but we’ve learned that deer like ripe Traminette grapes as a nice afternoon snack. For this variety of off-dry white wine, all the grapes used are local and were grown in Steuben County, located in the northeast corner of Indiana. Supposedly, you can see Michigan from the Vineyard. This wine was slightly floral and would pair nicely with any spicy food.
We next entered the production room: a mammoth corrugated metal-type building with massive stainless steel tanks, palettes stacked high with cases of wine, a wall lined with oak barrels, and an intricate looking bottling machine. It was here that we had a taste of Frontenac Blanc with a bite of ceviche. This dry white wine was refreshing, with a nice crisp, citrusy bite and we drank it straight from the tank.
A recent addition had been added off of the production room: with smaller vats and fewer palettes, but still very similar to the production room. Here, we had our glasses filled from a small tank of Cab Franc. This wine had spent roughly fifteen months on oak and was set to be bottled in about two weeks; it’s expected to yield around one thousand bottles. The grapes were purchased from Washington. Cab Franc is very popular in Washington. Country Heritage was only able to purchase a ton of these grapes: so a thousand bottles is all that it will yield. The oak on this wine was subtle and lovely. Paired with charcuterie and Gouda cheese, this was my favorite wine of the evening.
We returned to the production room to sample a very young wine: a wine truly not ready for drinking. This was meant to be part of a learning experience – giving us something to compare and contrast the other wines we tried, that had been aged longer and were closer to being ready for bottling. This brand new Petite Pearl had only been racked once. In age, it was only about four and a half months old. Per Kevin, this wine wouldn’t be ready for bottling until about 2025. It was dry and fruity: simple. It lacked nuance. It was closer to a fancy grape juice than good wine. But, paired with a BBQ Chicken Pizza, it was more than palatable. Having never before been able to sample a wine so early in the process of creation, I was enamored with this tasting. While I certainly wouldn’t want to drink a bottle of young, unfinished Petite Pearl, a few little mouthfuls was a truly exciting experience!
From here, we made our way back to the gorgeous barrel room, where Kevin used an interesting little tool called a Wine Thief to give us all a small taste from one of the oak barrels. The 1231 Red Blend was very tannic and robust: which you might expect from a wine that’s 45% Cabernet Sauvignon, 45% Merlot, and 10% Cabernet Franc. This wine isn’t for the faint of heart or those who only dabble with the idea of enjoying a big red wine. They offered stuffed mushroom caps with this but Kevin said he enjoys it more with a nice steak; and I, too, would prefer this wine with a steak.
Kevin admitted to our small group of eager tasters, “I like food just as much as I like wine; especially together.” Honestly, me too, Kevin. With that said, while the food pairings to accompany the wines were certainly thoughtful, they were very much secondary to the wines themselves. At a wine tasting, perhaps that’s exactly how it should be. Sommeliers will tell you that a truly terrific pairing of food and wine should create a new flavor in your mouth. I wouldn’t say that I experienced that with most of the foods sampled tonight. But, what the foods did do is elevate the wines: bringing out the best in what we were sipping and making subtle notes a bit more obvious to the, perhaps, more inexperienced tasters.
I think that when many of us hear the words “wine tasting,” images of snobbish people sniffing, swishing, and slurping glasses of wine come to mind. Perhaps we imagine self-important people perched at white cloth clad tables discussing ‘notes’ of vanilla, or silky tannins, or any number of silly descriptive phrases that, to the inexperienced wine drinker, may sound incredibly intimidating. The Winemaker’s Barrel Tasting at Country Heritage eschewed this cliché entirely and provided guests with a behind the scenes tour. We spent time where the wine is actually being made, drank glasses poured straight from the tanks, and had a direct interface with the winemaker himself – who was beyond gracious and knowledgeable – and provided us with thoughtful, intimate knowledge of the winemaking process from vine to glass. If picturesque and unpretentious is what you want out of a winery, I can’t recommend Country Heritage Winery highly enough. Often, I find that small, local wineries produce mostly sweet wines – this remains true for Country Heritage, with a large percentage of their bottles falling between off-dry and sweet. At the tasting, I learned that there are more than a few true gems crafted by Country Heritage to satisfy those of us who, like me, and like Kevin the winemaker, prefer our wines on the dryer side. I can say with complete sincerity, I intend to don a pair of blue jeans and head back to the winery as soon as possible. Five samples was plenty for a single evening of tasting, but not enough to satisfy my curiosity entirely. If the wines I sampled tonight were any indication, Country Heritage has a lot to offer. I need to try more; and I simply can’t wait!
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Barrel Aged Cider: how do you like them apples?
If wine is the nectar of the gods, cider is the beverage of choice for forest nymphs and fairies. Ciders dance the fine line between other-worldly and familiar; with some tasting like sweet, childhood memories of slurping down apple juice in the sunshine and others sipping as sinfully complex as any other adult beverage. Recently, I had the privilege of sampling a cider that decidedly fell into the latter category: Kekionga Craft Company’s Barrel Aged Cider.
I was fortunate to be granted early access to this Cider by being a current member of Kekionga Craft Company’s Quarters Club. Quarterly Cider Club members receive two four-packs of cider four times a year. Ciders go out to members in December, March, June, and September. In addition to delicious ciders, club members get the added perk of a 10% discount on all regular cider shipments.
As a Quarters Club member, in December I received a batch of their special Sugar Plum winter cider. (A personal favorite and an excellent addition to any winter holiday celebration! Highly recommended, from me to you.) Along with that, I got a pack of their Barrel Aged Cider, which only recently became available to the general public. Upon first sip, my initial reaction was a literal and audible, “Wow!” Now that this cider is available on tap at Kekionga, you can taste it and say, “Wow!” too–or whatever you want to say, I’m not the boss of you.
Made from their proprietary blend of apples and aged in a Hotel Tango bourbon barrel for eight months, you’ll never mistake this cider for apple juice. While this cider is only 6.9% ABV, the barrel aging lends an extra boozy quality to this blend–as well as additional notes of vanilla and butterscotch. Don’t be fooled into thinking that this is a sweet cider. It may be made with apples, but this ain’t your kiddo’s apple juice box. On a scale of sweet to dry, this cider is about as dry as a tea-totaller in a desert drought. In a blind tasting, I could easily mistake this for a barrel aged beer. I’d consider this cider more of a sipper than a slurper; and, personally, I’d much rather slowly savor a single snifter of this cider than knock back several. The flavor is decidedly complex and grown-up. Get out to Kekionga and sip some before it’s gone–assuming it’s not gone already as I was very slow to get this posted. Unlike this cider, my posts don’t all age extremely well.
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Petite Chou Bistro & Champagne Bar is ma petite chou…
We fall in love with people, but what about places and things? Can a city capture our heart? Can we entertain a romance with a certain street? What about a particular restaurant? Boys have broken my heart but a good Champagne has never done me any measurable amount of harm. Men may come and go, but a good steak never disappoints me. Chocolate has certainly never once made me cry. Is it safer, or perhaps even better, to give our hearts to places and things rather than people? Could this lead us to the most fulfilling love affairs of our lives? Maybe for some. Maybe for me. I fear these are questions that can only be answered by the passing of time. All I know is that today my heart is singing for Petite Chou Bistro & Champagne Bar.
Tucked away in a little Indianapolis neighborhood that deftly walks the tightrope between chic and quaint, Petite Chou is situated along a peaceful canal. This restaurant is French enough to attract a closet Francophile (ie: your friendly neighborhood food and wine blogger) yet approachable enough to not scare off other clientele who are, perhaps, less enamored with upscale food cooked with gobs of delicious butter. When approaching the host stand, you’ll feel as though you’re walking through something imagined by Wes Anderson; an enclosed patio with outdoor seating bedecked with walls of colorful flowers giving way to a dark, elegant indoor dining area with velvet accents and Champagne buckets at the ready. Even the menus boast a very ‘Grand Budapest Hotel’ font and color palette. This place has an incredibly assertive style that you will either embrace or not. Personally, I was happy to throw my arms around it and call it my new home away from home.
As a Champagne bar, Petite Chou offers three varieties of Laurent Perrier Champagne, a number of sparkling wines, and additionally an enticing list of Champagne cocktails. A girl who typically knows exactly what she wants, I began my adventure by ordering a glass of their Laurent Perrier 2008 vintage Champagne: secretly, I knew that this was what I was going to order before I ever glanced at a menu. Vintage Champagne isn’t something that I get to enjoy very often so, even at $28 a glass, this was not something I was prepared to let pass me by. I was captivated by the crisp acidity of this wine, balanced nicely with the yeasty notes we expect from a Champagne. Petite Chou serves their Champagne in coupes instead of flutes, which I appreciate both aesthetically and for the sake of being able to more fully enjoy the aromas of the Champagne. What you do miss when you eschew a flute for a coupe is some of the visual effects of the Champagne bubbles seemingly endlessly running up the sides of the glass; but this isn’t a feature that I miss terribly. (Flute glasses are kind of, in a sense, dumb. I won’t get started on that today. But, maybe try drinking your Champagne from a solo cup instead of a flute. It will probably be a more fulfilling experience: truly!) Pro tip: on the Wednesday evening that I was there, they were offering half priced bottles of wine. If you live close enough to Indianapolis and/or have enough friends who would split a bottle with you, this is beyond an excellent deal and I urge you to take advantage of this. Sadly, I wasn’t up for drinking a bottle alone and my companion for the evening had no intention of drinking alcohol before our two-ish hour trek back to Fort Wayne. C’est la vie!
I began my meal with a simple green salad. It was, as the name suggested, simple: but divine. When simple, limited ingredients can be put together in a way that allows them to shine and excite: that is truly art for the palette. Greens, herbs, and a bit of Dijon vinaigrette were, in my opinion, the perfect bite to begin my evening. True, I like a good salad. True, I am weirdly obsessed with mustards, with Dijon leading the pack by a large margin. Perhaps this makes me slightly biased. My dining mate opted for the slightly more obvious choice: Onion Soup Gratinée. Typically, when we dine together, we play very nicely and will offer each other multiple bites so that we each get a very full, well-rounded dining experience. I was not offered a single bite of soup and I am still pouting about it. Apparently, it was too good to share. So, while I can’t assure you that the soup is excellent, you’ll have to trust my dining companion who tells me it was heavenly. Watching my dinner buddy stretching luscious, gooey, stringing cheesy spoonfuls of onion soup was torture and I fear I shall never recover from the ordeal. Luckily, we had an order of Gruyère Gougères to share, and they were yummy enough to help ease my pain. Served with a small side of mornay for dipping, these gougères are perhaps not as high and fully puffed as some that I’ve previously enjoyed, but what they lack in height they make up for in flavor. A tender pâte à choux kiss entangled with a suckerpunch of Gruyère; these little bites are buttery, cheesy, and sinfully perfect.
Choosing an entrée was one of the most difficult choices I ever had to make in my life; they all sounded beyond fantastic. There is a Knife & Fork burger on their menu with Camembert, Bordelaise, and arugula–some day, I will make this burger mine. While dining, I heard other customers (who I assume were locals) raving about how good the brunch at Petite Chou is. The Knife & Fork burger just happens to be on both the brunch and dinner menus, so there’s no doubt that I’ll be returning at my earliest convenience to try their brunch and to partake in this sexy, mammoth burger. As for the dinner that I chose, I ordered the Lobster and Frites. My dining companion elected to get the Steak and Frites. Our thought: if we share a few bites, we basically both got surf and turf! Win! I’ve been very skeptical about ordering any sort of seafood since moving to the Midwest. Let’s be fair: y’all aren’t known for it. I felt safe with my choice to try the 8oz lobster tail at Petite Chou and nothing about it disappointed. Honestly, my tail was gorgeous, slightly larger than I expected it to be, and the frites were salty, crisp, and addictive. The tarragon butter to accompany my lobster tail was, without question, the perfect accompaniment. All the while, I was still sipping a glass of vintage Champagne that paired beautifully with all of my food! As for my companion’s meal, I was again jealous. The strip steak with Maître d’Hôtel Butter was godlike: cooked to perfection with exactly the right amount of gorgeous pink throughout, the compound butter made each bite beyond decadent, and it had just the right amount of salt to allow the flavors to burst on your palette like a supernova while leaving you craving another bite. Seriously, I would sleep on their doorstep and devote my entire life to consuming nothing but the food and Champagne at Petite Chou: if only I could.
While I had intended to consume only one glass of Champagne on this particular evening, plans changed because I’m a very nice girl and I have a birthday coming up. For dessert, I opted for a glass of the Laurent Perrier Brut Rosé Champagne. Of the Champagne on offer, this is the most expensive sip clocking in at $33 for a glass or $110 for a bottle. My friend, it was worth it. This Champagne is lush and fruitful with strawberries and raspberries on the nose. The restaurant was relatively dark by the time I ordered my final glass of Champagne for the evening, but in the dim light I found the gorgeous pink color to be truly breathtaking. I would have been happy to end my meal here; but we opted to split the profiteroles at the suggestion of our charming waitress. (She was new to dinner service at Petite Chou and, despite being new, she was an absolute angel and made the evening perfect!) The profiteroles were, you guessed it, delicious. Three perfectly round spheres of crisp pâte à choux pastry flanking sweet, cold vanilla ice cream, and all drizzled in a succulent chocolate sauce. I ate only one. I was, technically speaking, completely “full.” But if you put a sweet in front of me, I’m not going to ignore it!
While it is a bit of a hike for me, and it’s certainly not the sort of place that I could comfortably afford to eat at every day of the week, Petite Chou Bistro & Champagne Bar has stolen my heart. Were my time and funds unlimited, I would truly dine there endlessly. The atmosphere, food, and beverages are all irreproachable. The staff are lovely and attentive. Years ago, when I was still an East Coast dweller, had you told me that a place like Petite Chou existed in Indiana, I would have called you a liar. I would have found it hard to believe that a place as whimsical yet elegant existed anywhere; let alone the Midwest. Yet here we are. Petite Chou Bistro & Champagne Bar is a reality and it has absolutely stolen my heart.
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Olives: a love story
Once upon a time, I did not like olives. I’d like to say that this was a long time ago, in a far off land. But, if I’m telling the truth, this was really only about a year ago, roughly 600 miles away on the East Coast. I had just remotely purchased my first home and my mom wanted to take me out to celebrate. The outing served a dual purpose: celebrating my big-girl milestone and saying farewell to one of my favorite hometown watering holes, Easton Wine Project.
We ordered a few glasses of wine and the Jumbo Pretzel with Charcuterie and Cheese–my favorite item on the menu. Like any good cheese and charcuterie board, this board boasts an array of meat and cheeses and complimenting bits and bobs, like nuts and fruits. What separates this board from others is that the array of meats and cheeses are arranged within the nooks of a giant, warm, soft, salty pretzel and served with beer cheese for dipping. I love this menu item, but believed at the time that I did not love the kalamata olives that punctuated the meaty cheesy display.
Usually, I’d consume this board with friends and, invariably, I could depend on someone else to munch the olives. On this particular day, it was just me and my mother, who sadly dislikes olives. I quietly said to myself, “The only thing worse than olives is food waste,” and bravely braced myself to try to choke down as many of the little, slimy purple blobs as I could manage. I popped the first into my mouth and, to my surprise, enjoyed it. I ate a second, to ensure my first taste experience wasn’t a fluke. Then I ate a third, and another, and another, until I’d cheerfully eaten every olive on the board. As of that fateful day, I really liked olives.
My like grew to love and soon I found myself seeking out olives to nosh as often as I could. Now, there’s truly no end to what sort of olive I will enjoy. Stuffed olives are delightful: there’s pimento stuffed, jalapeno stuffed, and garlic stuffed. My personal favorite is a bleu cheese stuffed olive. They can be green, black, or purple. I will gladly eat any color or variety. On a pizza, they’re particularly delightful. Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it! In fact, one of my local pizzerias does a white pizza with olives that I’m particularly smitten with. If you like olives even half as much as I do, you must try Three Fires Bianca pizza. It’s a wood-fired pizza topped with a white sauce, mozzarella, a more-than-generous scattering of green olives, basil, garlic, and chili flake. This was one of several pizzas that I picked up the first time that I ever tried Three Fires. Before grabbing my pizzas, I’d already picked out a nice red wine to compliment the meaty, red-sauced pizzas in my order: because there’s few things I love more than pairing wine and pizza. The olive pizza was the weird outlier that I was just planning to try on a whim; since, apparently, I now liked olives and had actually never tried them on a pizza before this point. When I went into Three Fires to pay for my pizzas, the gentleman at the counter and I got chit-chatting and he casually mentioned that the Bianca pizza pairs great with red wine. I tried it when I got home and, let me tell you friend, it’s sort of life changing. As I’m typing this up, it’s early morning, the sun isn’t even up yet, and I’m suddenly craving a Bianca pizza and a nice glass of red.The problem with loving olives on pizza so much is that most pizza places aren’t open super early in the morning or in the middle of the night: and you never know when an olive craving will hit. So, I try to keep my house well stocked with olives. Sure, I love fancy ones, and will graciously accept olives as a gift any time. But I’m not above just grabbing a jar from the grocery store for my personal enjoyment. (My favorite brand is Lindsay. Their organic olives never disappoint.)
I also kind of love those little snacking pouches of olives. Don’t yuck my yum when I tell you that the main appeal of olives-in-a-pouch is that I can throw them in my purse and take them anywhere. A craving could strike at any moment and it’s important to be prepared; especially if you’re out running errands or going on a long car ride. Nobody likes me when I’m hangry; I don’t even like myself. For snacking olives on the go, Freestyle offers a pretty delicious option. Their olives come in three varieties: Garlic and Lemon Green Olives, Hot and Spicy Green Olives, and Kalamata with Extra Virgin Olive Oil. While all of these options are delicious, and they’ve become an absolute go-to snack for me, I will say that these ‘pitted’ olives often have remnants of pit remaining in each pack; at least in my experience. They taste so good and they’re such a convenient grab and go munchie that I try not to mind. However, I’ll be the first to say that it’s annoying as heck to bite into a supposedly pitted olive and experience that awful cracking sensation of a partial pit shattering between your teeth. It’s annoying enough that I’m seriously considering losing my brand loyalty and giving Oloves a try.
My favorite olive snack isn’t so much an olive itself as it is an olive product–which sounds kind of yucky when I say it like that, but stick with me for a minute. Trader Joe’s sometimes has these fried olive bites in the frozen food section. (And we all know the frozen food section at Trader Joe’s is next-level; let’s not pretend otherwise for even a moment.) They look like whole olives, but upon inspection they’re not. I let this disappoint me the first time that I tried this product, so be forewarned and don’t let it disappoint you. These are basically olive-shaped balls consisting of olive-bits and flavorful breading that envelope a cream-cheese center. They’re easy as sin to make: just remove them from your freezer, put them on a baking tray, and pop them into your heated oven for the suggested amount of time. Are these the perfect at-home, cozy, warm olive snack? Who’s to say. But, in my opinion: yes, they are.
If I’m out to eat, my new favorite place to get olives is downtown at Copper Spoon. They offer an appetizer of warm marinated olives with orange, thyme, and garlic. They serve baguettes so that you can sop up all of the flavorful, briney oil that’s left behind. It’s a truly, deeply spiritual experience. I can’t recommend this menu item highly enough. I wrote about it previously on my blog post about Copper Spoon, so give it a read if you haven’t yet!
As for recipes I cook at home with olives, my go-to is by Food52’s Emma Laperruque. She creates Big Little Recipes for Food52, so these recipes always utilize a limited number of ingredients making them both relatively affordable and easy. Her recipe for Olive-Brined Chicken with Garlicky Croutons and Parsley is simply one of those recipes that is so much greater than the sum of its parts. Like the smarty-pants she is, she brines the chicken in olive juice. This imparts flavor and does a lot of the heavy lifting in regards to seasoning; but it also means that both the olives and their brine get utilized in a single recipe, so there’s no waste. Don’t sleep on this recipe. It’s a winner and, amongst olive lovers, a total crowd pleaser. I’ve cooked it for people on the fence regarding olives and they too have enjoyed it, because warm, schmaltzy olives and fatty, garlicky croutons are easy things to fall in love with.
While our taste buds definitely play a strong role in how we perceive food, it’s ultimately our brain that decides whether or not we like something. Just because, at one time, you disliked a food doesn’t mean that you still dislike it. People change their minds all the time. So, if you think you don’t like olives, I urge you to try them again with the knowledge that minds change. Tastes change. People change. People grow and, sometimes, they grow into people who love olives.
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French Wines 101: are you smarter than an Emily Cooper?
I love to hate-watch Emily in Paris. From the lack of diversity and bad cultural stereotypes to the wildly implausible plot, there’s a lot to hate about this show. Let’s get real: Paris is the second-most multicultural city in Europe–yet, when I’m watching, I can’t help but notice that the majority of people on my screen are white. Who exactly is sending an underqualified, young, American, female employee to Paris, when she does not speak French? She certainly isn’t going to make tons of friends or succeed in business by aggressively not learning French, especially when her attitude seems to imply that her French colleagues are lazy and her American workaholic sensibilities are objectively correct. But, like with a shitty ex-boyfriend, I want to look past all the flaws and red-flags and keep loving this show because all of the awful things about it somehow don’t stop it from being absolutely intoxicating.
Wine comes up in Emily in Paris a lot. Like, a lot, a lot. I actually tried to do a re-watch of seasons one through three and write down literally every time wine appeared or was referenced. I gave up on my note-taking and poured myself a glass instead. So, before I get into suggested pairings for the show, please allow me to get slightly preachy for a moment. Dietary Guidelines for Americans from the CDC say men may drink two or less drinks each day; for women, the approved number is one drink per day. Furthermore, it’s not recommended that you actually drink every single day. Other cultures certainly embrace alcohol differently than western culture. However, I don’t think that Emily in Paris is a healthy model for a relationship with alcohol. It’s not even necessarily a realistic representation of how the French drink. It’s fiction. It romanticizes drinking a lot of wine. Drinking wine is great. It’s one of my favorite things to do. But, it’s important to know that we live in the real world. So, how much we can happily, safely consume on a regular basis in the real-world shouldn’t be modeled after how much Emily (a fictional character) drinks in her highly fictionalized, white-washed, mostly English-speaking version of Paris.
So, if you’ve got an inkling that you’re smarter than Emily of Emily in Paris fame and deserve a work assignment at a French marketing firm more than she does–you’re probably right. I have practiced French on Duolingo for about a year now. While I started off strong and highly dedicated, I’m down to spending less than three minutes on my studies each day. I can speak more French than Emily does as of season three. Armed with nothing but a mediocre Duolingo score and a basic knowledge of French wines and food, I feel like I do a better job at being “Emily in Paris” than Emily Cooper does. (I look cute in a beret; so I’ve got that going for me, too, which is nice.) You can dethrone Emily, too, as the Cole Porter of the 2020s. (Though I’d prefer to think of myself as a modern day Zelda Fitzgerald during her Paris years.) You just need a little bit of knowledge to dethrone Emily Cooper as this year’s coolest American in Paris, and I’m happy to share what I know with you!
In season one, episode one, after first learning about her promotion to the Paris office, Emily walks into a Chicago bar and asks for white wine–something French. Now, the place she’s at is a bit of a dive, so expecting a nice French white wine seems unrealistic. But, here’s a crash course on basic French white wines so that you can sound smarter than Emily Cooper the next time you want to order a glass. First, you should know that France is broken into different regions and different wines come from these different regions. The one region most people know is Champagne; and we know that the bubbly stuff made in Champagne is real Champagne, but the bubbly stuff from other places is ‘sparkling wine’ or some other kind of bubbly. Champagne is only one region in France–there are many more. Next to Champagne, I think Bordeaux and Burgundy are probably the two best known regions–and for good reason. They have excellent wines! An easy white wine to remember from the Bordeaux region is Bordeaux Blanc. (It has the name of the region and the color of the wine right in the name!) This wine is typically made with a blend of Sauvignon Blanc, Sémillon, and Muscadelle grapes. In the Burgundy region, Chardonnay or Chablis are popular white wines. But, just as there are red Burgundy wines, they have white Burgundy, too! If you head towards the southern part of France, you’ll find the Langeudoc-Roussillon region which produces fantastic Langeudoc White Blends. (Another wine with the region and color right in the name. Come on, Emily Cooper: learning this stuff isn’t that hard if you put in just the tiniest bit of effort!) My personal favorite wines probably come from the Loire Valley in France; famous for both Sauvignon Blanc and Chenin Blanc. There you have it. It’s barely a cursory overview of French white wines, but you now know more about white wine than Emily Cooper–and that girl lives in Paris!
Several episodes later, Emily’s fast-won new-bestie says the now infamous line, “This is Sancerre, it’s a breakfast wine.” I laughed at this. My friends didn’t. This caused me to realize this line is only funny if you know that Mindy’s full of shit. Sancerre isn’t a breakfast wine. Wait, that’s not fair, I redact my statement. There are two philosophical schools of thought when it comes to wine: either all wines are breakfast wines or no wines are breakfast wines. (Which school do you belong to?) But, no, Sancerre isn’t specifically a ‘breakfast wine’ any more than cold pizza is specifically a breakfast food. While I’m not above a little sip of something fun with my morning yums, it’s unlikely you’ll ever catch me cracking open a bottle of Sancerre in the early half of the day. It just doesn’t do it for me–or the French, really. Realistically, it’s not typical for the French to drink wine at breakfast time. They also don’t just house croissants and fancy pastries every day, as Emily and her pals would have us believe. These treats are generally reserved for special occasions or weekends. With that said, any occasion is a special occasion if you decide that it is. A day is just what you make of it! So, if like me, you’ve recently ordered a very special French pastry box from your favorite local baker, perhaps you’re curious about how to best pair some French pastries with French wines. Here are my thoughts for what to drink with some delicious French sweets and what to watch while you do it:
- Sauternes and a slice of crêpe cake – Season 1 episode 9: the one where Mathieu takes Emily to his favorite crêpe stand in Paris and they have that grating conversation about crêpes just being ‘thin pancakes’ or whatever. Drink your Sauternes, eat your crêpe cake, and know better.
- Chenin-Blanc with a kouignette – Season 3 episode 1: the one where Emily and Mindy are having breakfast, and then Camille shows up, and Mindy refers to Camille as Gabriel’s ‘boulangerie bitch.’ Typing out that sentence made me feel like I was back in high school and now I most definitely need a nice glass of Chenin-Blanc to remind myself that I’m a full grown adult and don’t have time for drama, thanks.
- Sparkling wine made with Cabernet Franc and a slice of gâteau moelleux au chocolat – Season 2 episode 3: the one where Emily has a shit-show of a birthday party and Gabriel makes her a very fancy chocolate cake. They were going to pair the cake with Champagne from Camille’s family’s château and that’s a super cute choice; but a sparkling red from the Loire Valley would honestly be better. Drink your wine, eat your cake, and be thankful you were able to watch that birthday fiasco unfold from the safety of your sofa because, mon dieu, can you imagine actually being in a situation that tense?! No thanks.
- Demi-Sec Champagne with a pain au chocolat – Season 1 episode 1: the one where Emily clumsily stumbles into somebody else’s dream-life, with little appreciation for the privileged position that she finds herself in, and then struggles with masculine and feminine nouns in the French language (honestly–same, girl) and acts like she’s been living under a rock and has never eaten anything deliciously buttery or chocolatey ever before. (Can’t relate.) Surely, we’ve all at one time or another eaten a really heavenly pain au chocolat that made our knees go weak. Hopefully we all kept our cool better than Emily did upon her first bite. But, I dare you to keep your cool after pairing a pain au chocolat with a Demi-Sec Champagne. I don’t know about you but, for me, all bets are off. Some things taste too good for me to be able to keep up my stony exterior whilst enjoying. Catch me looking like a fool in love all over a delicious pastry and some bubbly.
Alright, now it’s time for the big guns to come out. It makes me nervous, but we can’t talk about Emily in Paris and not mention Champagne. Obviously, a major plot-point of the show is Emily finding a way to market the excess bottles of undrinkable champagne produced by her friend’s parents as a less sophisticated beverage, “Champère.” Named for Camille’s dad, this ‘drink’ isn’t meant to be drunk, but rather sprayed. Shopthescenes.com is now offering a line of Champère clothing, accessories, and, you guessed it, actual bubbly. I’m not sure that I really want to spend $25 on De Lalisse Champère Sparkling Wine; I’m not sure that I’m that brave… or stupid, depending on how you look at it. What I do know is that I love Champagne; but not just to drink, and not to spray, either. I love the idea of Champagne. The history of Champagne. The cultural impact of Champagne. (Do you guys want to hear me talk more about Champagne? I’m kind of passionate about it. If it interests you, drop me a message!) I don’t want to bore everyone with Champagne trivia right now; because maybe you won’t find it as fascinating as I do. I’ll impart only this tidbit of information: when you go to the store and buy a bottle of Champagne, it typically won’t have a year on it. (When it comes to wines, we refer to ‘years’ as ‘vintages.’ So, if you bought a bottle that said 2012 on it; the ‘vintage’ of that wine is 2012. That means the wine inside the bottle was made using fruit harvested in 2012 only.) While it is possible to buy a single-vintage Champagne, most Champagne is non vintage. In order to create consistency of product, cellar masters blend various vats from multiple vineyards and/or vintages. This is why the standard Moët & Chandon that you (hypothetically speaking) grabbed for New Year’s Eve in 2022 tastes basically identical to the bottle of Moët & Chandon that you grabbed for New Year’s Eve in 2018. With that said, that means that there’s several years of grapes inside one single bottle of Champagne. So, if you follow the “spray it, don’t say it,” philosophy of Champère, then a Champagne shower, in a way, is like a bukkake of history. (I know that’s a bit crass but I’m not sorry I said it. I find myself to be quite charming.)
So, if you’re going to drink while watching Emily in Paris, I think there’s only one rule: make sure it’s a French wine. With the miniscule amount of information on French wine in this blog post, you already know more than Emily Cooper does about French wine. You could probably get hired by Madeline at Savoir; Sylvie’s hiring standards are likely a little more exacting. So, whether still or sparkling, avec une pâtisserie ou sans, white, red, or rosé, (Oh là là, France has some of the very best rosé wine!) you may not be a French wine expert quite yet, but babe, you’re doing better than Emily Cooper. Somebody ought to give you a nice trip to Paris!
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La Crême is the Crème de la Crème
I’m obsessed with crêpes. I have been since my 24th birthday when I first tried a brand-new, tiny, hole-in-the-wall crêpe stand in the city where I went to university. For years, crêpes were a weekly bite for me. I punctuated most happy (and sometimes sad) memories with a crêpe. That crêpe stand sadly no longer exists, but it birthed in me an obsession not so easily terminated. I have since procured my own crêpe wheel and–while I’m alright at spinning my own–it’s certainly not the same experience as having a real aficionado do it for me. Since my current stomping grounds are without a crêperie, this has left a bit of a hole in my heart. Call me a closet Francophile if you must. (My beret wearing infatuation, love of French wines, pastries, baguettes, and my current Duolingo score might agree with you.) At the end of the day, I accept it as a fact: to be happy, I need more crêpes in my life. Here enters La Crême. While Zeeland, Michigan is about a three hour drive for me, a visit to La Crême is worth the long drive. Offering both sweet and savory crêpes, La Crême fills the crêpe-sized hole in my heart.
For those looking for savory, buckwheat crêpes (or galettes, as they are often called) folded into a square shape: look elsewhere. That’s not what you’ll find at La Crême and, frankly, I’m glad because that’s not what I’m personally craving when I want my tummy to be filled with crêpe. The crêpes that they’re making are precisely the crêpes that I want: basic crêpe batter, filled with various deliciousness, and folded into a triangle. I have too many favorite crêpes from their menu to name; were I to try, I’d basically just be reciting their entire menu. However, the Bonjour, Monte Cristo, and Pomme are all standout savory crêpes. For sweet crêpes, they offer things as simple as the Citron, which is a classic crêpe with butter, a squeeze of lemon, and a dusting of sugar or as complex as Le Louvre which contains wild blueberry preserves, lemon curd, and cream cheese. In the fall, I got to try a special pumpkin cheesecake crêpe on offer and it was absolutely divine. Their current special is spinach, chicken, artichoke, garlic, and crushed red pepper, with brie and a drizzle of honey. C’est magnifique! However, the crêpe that will likely always hold the most special place in my heart is the Brie+Honey: brie, toasted walnuts, cranberries, brown sugar, and a honey drizzle. Absolute bliss.
Aside from crêpes, they offer some other small bites and soups: but crêpes are truly the reason to go to this delightful little spot. The atmosphere is relaxed, but elegant. Large carafes of water adorn every table–a detail I adore. Most notably: I ordered a brewed coffee for $2.50. A small pot was brought to the table and rendered, at least, three pours. An excellent deal and delicious addition to my meal. I really can’t recommend La Crême highly enough. As someone not from Zeeland, I can’t even use the hackneyed phrase “stop by if you’re in the area.” I don’t care how far you have to travel; La Crême is worth the drive.
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Oak and Alley: Brussels Sprouts in All the Right Places
I was a kid who did not want to eat my vegetables. It’s really no big surprise; many of us were. But, somehow, when I say it now, it always feels like I’m confessing a horrible, dirty secret. How could this Brussels sprout obsessed, broccoli-craving, cabbage-crunching, micro-green-snacking lady have ever turned her nose up at vegetables? Look, all I can say is, I was a different person when I was a child. Hopefully we all were. We should have all grown up a lot between then and now. (If you haven’t, it’s nothing to brag about. Seek help.)
No longer am I the petulant child who will pretend that I’ve forgotten how to chew when faced with the task of finishing all the carrots on my plate. I actually recently whined that the last time I cooked someone a nice dinner, I had to share too many of the Brussels sprouts. I immediately added more Brussels sprouts to my grocery list because I felt I didn’t get to enjoy enough of them the last time that I prepared them. Ridiculous; I know. But, I truly can’t get enough of those little green gems. Whether oven-roasted and served on their own, or topped with fried herbs and pepitas with a small sprinkling of cheese, or stuffed in a soft shell taco with some black beans and roasted butternut squash, or on top of a red-sauced pizza with bacon and red onion (shout out to Pizza Brain in Philly!), Brussels sprouts are the cruciferous savior that makes me wish I’d been less of a little shit when I was a kid because I now mourn all the years I wasted not eating Brussels sprouts.
I won’t say that my vegetable obsession makes me the healthiest girl in the world. (All things in moderation, right?) What I will say is that Oak and Alley is one of my new go-to burger and brew spots and they’ve provided me with a new type of burger to crave. Honestly, I might crave it more than my lost-love-peanut-butter-burger from back home that I’ve previously raved about. They call it ‘The Belgian.’
It’s filling, but not as heavy as a peanut butter burger. It’s not necessarily wild or adventurous: but I guess it depends on your level of gumption and how you define “adventure.” For me, this burger is tame, but it still packs a massive punch of flavor. It boasts aged parmesan, a strong and herbaceous taste of thyme–which I’m very much here for, creamy creme fraiche, crisp bacon, sharp red onion, and (drum roll please) Brussels sprouts! Honestly, if you’re not putting Brussels sprouts on your burgers, get your life together and just do it.
Sure; maybe as a Brussels sprouts fanatic I’m slightly biased, but if you’re one to ‘yuck’ on Brussels sprouts, I would urge you to give them another try as they are truly a small, green, gift from heaven. Furthermore, putting them on a burger is amazing and you’re worth it; you deserve it. The combination of toppings, specifically how the Brussels sprouts, creme fraiche, and thyme play together on this burger creates a bite that’s sophisticated without feeling even remotely pretentious. If you want to be next level, you can pair it with their sweet potato fries and horseradish dip. It’s worth any and all of the calories. Trust.
We are all born with roughly ten thousand taste buds. But, you don’t have the ones you were born with, because they are replaced roughly every two weeks. As humans, we’re constantly growing and changing; taste buds included. It’s really lovely that, as I settle into Midwest living, there’s a totally new burger to sate my comfort food cravings. The Belgian is a dreamy burger and, when friends and family come to visit, I will absolutely be pushing them all to give it a try. Who knew Brussels sprouts on a burger could be so divine?
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What should you sip with Mrs. Santa Claus…?
The brilliant songwriter Tim Minchin once penned the lyric, “I really like Christmas. It’s sentimental, I know, but I just really like it.” My sentiments exactly, Tim. The song goes on to mirror my exact feelings regarding the holiday season: “and yes, I have all of the usual objections to consumerism, to the commercialization of an ancient religion,” and so on. But, at the end of the day, despite all of Christmas’s flaws, Tim and I both, quote, “still really like it.” Because what kind of horrible Grinch of a human being could possibly hate Christmas?
My holiday season has been a bit shit, if I’m being perfectly honest. I’ve been sick since before Thanksgiving. Isolated from family and friends, unwell, and unable to celebrate the season the way that I want to–I’m growing Grinchier by the day. Most days I feel like I’m one bad vibe away from hauling my little bungalow up to the top of Mount Crumpit to live alone with my dog in bitter exile forever. (Because, let’s be real, I’d make an excellent recluse, but I’m forever too bougie to willingly live in a cave, so the little bungalow would have to remain my home.)
I know that my current lack of positive outlook isn’t exactly helping my situation. I know that there’s no ‘right way’ to celebrate Christmas; so feeling like I’m ‘missing out’ on things is because of my own self-imposed, messed up, limiting views of the holiday. But, dude, I’m sick and tired of feeling sick and tired and I just want to ice skate, grab a festive drink at Miracle on Jefferson, hug my loved ones, and stuff myself full of warm gingerbread cake until I’m near bursting. Instead, I’m glued to my sofa most days, living on crackers and Jewish penicillin and hate-watching bad Christmas rom-coms. I know Christmas is really just another day of the year. I know that the magic of Christmas can come any time. (I once celebrated it in July with an ex-boyfriend.) But, that doesn’t stop me from being heartbroken that I’m not having the holiday season that I want to have because of my own health.
Christmas is the perfect time of year for wine and media pairings–and I desperately wanted to enjoy and share my favorites with everyone! Every day this month, I’ve been opening (but not consuming) the fanciest wine advent calendar I’ve ever seen–it’s torture. I had planned to do festive tasting videos and reviews to share online, but obviously the universe had other plans for me. Because of all this, what I really want to do is cry, “Bah-Humbug” and pout on my sofa until Christmas quietly passes me by without any fanfare. But I better not pout and I better not cry, because there is one Christmas movie that I need to write about this holiday season or I will forever regret my Grinchiness and, honestly, I’m scared that if I don’t write this then there’s a strong possibility that three weird ghosts will visit me in the night–I don’t know, I don’t make the rules. So, even though I’m not feeling very festive, here it goes…have you ever heard of Mrs. Santa Claus? If you haven’t, don’t feel bad–somehow this movie seems to be overlooked by most. It’s a 1996 made-for-television masterpiece and, in my humble opinion, no holiday season is complete without watching it at least once.
I wouldn’t go so far as to call Mrs. Santa Claus a ‘woke’ Christmas movie, but feminism is absolutely central to the plot; so, too, are womens’ suffrage, issues of child labor, workers’ rights, and cultural acceptance in the melting pot that was New York City in the early 1900s. It’s heavy stuff for a Christmas movie, but these big issues are waltzed around deftly, keeping the story not only palatable, but fun and festive. Did I mention that it’s a musical? I mean a real musical–in the classic sense of the term. As if this movie couldn’t get better, its music was written by Jerry Herman, known for his work on Hello, Dolly!, Mame, and La Cage aux Folles. So, you know, basically musical theatre royalty birthed this Christmas classic. Oh, by the way–I left out one minor detail–it stars Angela Lansbury, god rest the angel soul of everyone’s favorite singing teapot/amateur detective. In my mind, she is forever the face that I see when picturing Santa’s wifey in my mind’s eye: she’s that iconic in this role. She is Mrs. Santa Claus.
With that brief glimpse of what the movie Mrs. Santa Claus is, I’m almost certain I’ve already sold you on watching it this holiday season. (And, if I haven’t, perhaps it’s you and not I who is the true Grinch.) That means the only question left is what to pair with your annual screening of Mrs. Santa Claus. The question is simple; I have no smart or witty way of phrasing it, but stick with me anyway, please. The answer is less simple, because there are so many divine possibilities. So, we’ll break it down to three possible scenarios: are you watching morning, noon, or night?
If you decide to rise, shine, and settle in for a showing of Mrs. Santa Claus, there’s only one right way to start the day: bagels and wine. Turn of the century New York City’s lower east side was flooded with immigrants selling foods that were familiar to them and held some sort of cultural importance. This birthed bagel carts–and you’ll see your fair share depicted in this movie. If you aren’t craving a bagel when you start watching, you’ll probably be jonesing for one by the end. So, if you’re doing an early bird viewing of Mrs. Santa Claus, do yourself a favor by pairing your watching with a bagel and wine. I’m going to recommend a bagel (probably everything or poppyseed) with lox, onions, capers, cream cheese schmear and a nice glass of champagne. Since lox made its way to New York City thanks to Jewish immigrants, this is an ideal pairing for Mrs. Santa Claus. A glass of bubbly helps to cut through the fattiness of the smoked salmon while also chilling out the salty bite of the capers. Mrs. Lowenstein would be proud–such a smart pairing! And delicious, too!
If you’re more of an afternoon watcher, why not pair two things that seemingly don’t go together at all? Like an onion roll at a Mayfair tea, a march by Sousa in a minor key, a Christmas movie viewing at lunchtime, or a stable boy and a suffragette–sometimes it’s the two things that you don’t expect to go together at all that actually make the absolute best pairing. How about a pastrami sandwich and a Chilean Carménère? I’m borrowing this suggestion from the brilliant book Big Macs and Burgundy. Authors Vanessa Price and Adam Laukhuf recommend pairing a Katz’s Deli (a New York institution and right of passage for anyone passing through the city) pastrami sandwich with a Chilean Carménère. This grape varietal originated in the Bordeaux region of France, but has fallen out of popularity there. The small amount still grown there is generally only used for blending. However, Chile co-opted this grape–mostly by mistake: they thought they were growing Merlot, but through DNA testing learned it was Carménère! Through that happy accident, they have crafted a bold red wine that perfectly compliments Katz’s pastrami. What do Chilean wine and a classic Jewish deli sandwich have in common? Nothing, really. Still, it’s a geshmack pairing, if ever there was one!
If your ideal viewing time is at day’s end when the house is all dark aside from the TV screen’s glow and the warm light of the Christmas tree, there’s only one right answer for what you should be noshing and sipping with Mrs. Santa Claus: red wine hot chocolate and homemade christmas cookies! If the thought of pairing red wine and chocolate icks you out, all I can really say is don’t yuck it until you’ve tried it. Chocolate and wine go great together: that’s why people give both as valentines presents. Plus, I make a pretty divine red wine chocolate cake. To make your beverage, I’d suggest not starting with a wine that’s overly sweet. This drink is all about balance; and if you start with a sweet wine, it’ll be difficult to create that perfect balance. Merlot, Cabernet Sauvignon, Dolcetto, or Shiraz are all acceptable. Your ratios should be identical for milk and chocolate pieces, and then double that for wine. So, for example, a single serving drink might be 4oz of wine, 2oz milk (plant based works perfectly well here!), and 2oz of chocolate broken or chopped into small bits. You’ll heat the milk and wine on the stove over very low heat, as we want to avoid burning off the alcohol in the wine. Once warm, you’ll add your chocolate and stir to melt the luscious chocolatey goodness into your warm wine/milk mixture. Add sugar and cinnamon to taste and, Bob’s your uncle, you’ve got a very festive drink to enjoy while watching Mrs. Santa Claus. And if there’s one thing that Santa’s taught us all, it’s that you can’t be sad while drinking hot cocoa–that is, unless your wife has borrowed your sleigh and reindeer, gone off on a joyride around the world without leaving so much as a note, and has since been missing for days. But hey, maybe if Santa had wine in his cocoa, he might have been happy anyway. Who’s to say?
Happy holidays to you and yours. Wishing you a merry and a bright, kiddo!
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Patatas Bravas: a love story
When asked what my favorite vegetable is, my brain will automatically jump to my favorite green vegetable. (For the curious, it’s a solid tie between Brussels sprouts and broccoli, with arugula as a close runner up and green cabbage as an honorable mention. Wait, I almost forgot–I also love peas. Forget it, I can’t rank them; I love them all.) However, if I’m being perfectly honest and truly assessing the full array of vegetables that grow on our beautiful planet, the humble potato is definitely my most beloved vegetable. They are a starchy vegetable, but a vegetable nonetheless and, my goodness, they are certainly adept at transforming into a number of delicious dishes. Whether baked, mashed, french fried, served up in a poutine, as tots, scalloped, in a soup, a stew, a salad, or roasted and turned into a beastly breakfast taco filling, potatoes are the delicious chameleons of the vegetable world and our lives simply wouldn’t be the same without them.
Before moving to the Midwest, I’d heard of Patatas Bravas and even tried making it myself once, but no restaurants near me served it. Though this dish is native to Spain, it seems to be quite popular in my new city. My father came to visit me and, though he did travel to Spain in his youth, he’d never heard of Patatas Bravas and was curious about it. I explained to him then, as I’ll explain to you now, that at its most essential Patatas Bravas are just cubed white potatoes, fried, and served with a spicy sauce. The spicy sauce is usually orange-red in color and, traditionally, gets most of its heat and hue from a spicy paprika–though some versions of the sauce may include tomato, adding to the intense color. In my personal experience with eating Patatas Bravas, a garlicky aioli is also included and is an absolutely necessary component for making this simple dish so extraordinary.
There is an undisputed favorite location in my city for Patatas Bravas; it’s not at a fancy restaurant. The most excellent Patatas Bravas come from my favorite food truck, Bravas. Given their name, you can be certain that their Patatas Bravas are absolute fire. In a brief online exchange with the proprietor, I actually learned that they’ve had a long time love affair with Patatas Bravas–a love affair so intense, in fact, that it birthed the food truck! For one singular potato dish to have that much power, it must be very mighty and highly delicious. Honestly, I’d walk a mile to the food truck and only get the Patatas Bravas; they’re that good.
Bravas serves up an order of their thrice fried potatoes with both ‘Bravas sauce’ (that aforementioned spicy orange-red sauce) and aioli for only $5.50, making it a brilliantly affordable snack or reasonably priced side dish to go along with a yummy smash burger or tricked-out hotdog. In my experience, how they serve the dish to you can vary. Sometimes, I’ve gotten my order with my patatas already loaded up with both sauces, but other times I’ve received both sauces in separate, small, plastic containers, which allows me to dip the patatas and have a heightened control of my sauce ratios. Truly, both options are flawless; I’m never disappointed either way. As long as I’m eating Patatas Bravas, I’m a happy girl.
At the end of the day, you may not get the appeal of Patatas Bravas. You may find yourself asking, “Some fried potatoes with sauces–what’s so special about that?” Well, my friend, all I can do is encourage you to try this dish and remind you that, sometimes, simplicity is the key to excellence. Patatas Bravas has very quickly become a new favorite food of mine and I feel so fortunate to be spoiled by living in close proximity to Bravas food truck’s home turf and site of their future brick-and-mortar restaurant. Their sit-down restaurant is currently set to open in Spring of 2023. They were shy of their goal and set up an Indiegogo with some very choice treats for those kind enough to donate toward the cause. They’ve reached their goal, however, there are still a few days left on the campaign. If you have any money to spare, it would be so lovely if you could find it in your heart to help out the Bravas peeps. Helping people to achieve their dreams is cool–but surpassing dreams is even cooler. Click here to be directed to their Indiegogo campaign!
If you’re ever in Fort Wayne and you see the Bravas truck slinging noms, drop whatever you’re doing and go snag yourself an order of Patatas Bravas. (If you’re extra hungry, any of their smash burgers or delish hotdogs go great with an order of Patatas Bravas! Empanadillas and burritos are also personal favorites of mine; especially the Cheesy Beefy Patito Burrito they’ve recently had on special!) Bravas is the first takeout food that I went, by myself, to pick up when I first moved here. After leaving behind close friends and a tight-knit community, I really wasn’t accustomed to eating alone. It felt strange and uncomfortable for me to head out solo to hit up a food truck. I remember heading to the food truck and thinking to myself that this would be something that would take me a long time to get comfortable with. Then I ate my first order of Patatas Bravas and suddenly I didn’t care if I had an army with me or was totally alone; delicious Bravas food would always be more than worth the lonely walk. I hope you’ll be as astonished as I am that from small potatoes comes such big flavors, big dreams, and big love.
Plonk & Pleasure 