BBQ in Kansas City

A business trip several years ago took me to Austin. Being with eating/traveling partner Bryan, we wanted the best dining experience and were told by countless people that we needed, it was required, we go to the Salt Lick for bbq. We went, drug our boss, got lost and eventually made it to an oasis in the middle of nowhere serving the most incredible bbq that I'd ever eaten. Not at all like the bbq that I'd grown up with, it was different and incredible, focusing more on the smoke and quality of the meat rather than the bathing in bbq sauce.

It's a well known fact that I love bbq. I'm even trying to talk my mom into brining and BBQing the Thanksgiving bird next week.

A few days ago, Kansas City was the destination for another business trip (and yes, I've been traveling a lot of late, maybe 25K miles in the past month and a half? WOW). My good friend from college, Michelle, now lives in Kansas City with her husband and two kids (actually, Overland Park, but no need to get caught up in technicalities). We decided to have dinner, and she offered up a French bistro, adding an aside of "or if you'd like to go to bbq, we can do that too". Of course I opted for bbq. BBQ in California is like Mexican food in Boston: it's doable and ok, but nothing like the real experience (or even the ok real experience).

When pulling into the parking lot of Fiorella's Jack Stack BBQ, I warned Michelle that I'd be like a vacuum - nothing would be left. I think she may have thought I was crazy, but we were talking about KC bbq, after all.

I ordered the sliced meat and ribs plate, substituting coleslaw and beans for the french fries and whatever other nondescript side they offered. BBQ in KC had to be done correctly.

As I gazed at the plate of meat, I thought that the restaurant was a bit cheap with only a drizzle of bbq sauce over the sliced beef. But all was forgiven as I used my fork to cut the tender beef. Yes, I used my fork to cut the beef. WOW. It turned out the sauce was just the right amount - nice and tangy, accenting the beef rather than overpowering it.

The ribs were perfectly smoked and basted with the slightly vinegary bbq sauce. The meat literally pulled off of the bones, and when done, lacking any pretense of politeness, I licked my fingers. Hopefully, Michelle didn't notice. I was also wondering if I could ask for a second helping of ribs, but considering I was fed non-stop over the next couple of days, probably best that I withheld. Plus, it would have probably been a social faux paus.

Michelle had a sandwich - with the beef and coleslaw and whatever else they added. Between sighs on my part, I noticed that she seemed to be enjoying her plate.

Our host in Kansas City planned a very nice dinner the next night at the Kemper Contemporary Art Museum. A lovely setting, modern art and a string orchestra. I ordered the KC strip steak, with gorgonzola butter and port wine sauce. I convinced my colleague Dave to get the steak as well, although since he thinks gorgonzola tastes like feet (how do you know what feet taste like, Dave? I asked, to which he said, smells like feet, I meant smells like feet! Uh-huh, Dave, uh-huh), he got the steak sans butter. The steak was delicious - beef in the heartland really does taste different.

Dave and Randy and I talked about going for bbq before catching our flights, but sadly, the KC airport is in the middle of nowhere - meaning even decent or ok bbq is nowhere to be had. The logistics with flights and needing to get home were just too difficult to overcome, even with the pull of bbq.

Saturday Night Dinner

Tony recently bought a flat in San Francisco, so invited me over for dinner and to see his new home. It's a great place - he did an excellent decorating job, the kitchen is fully modern and well designed.

He made pork chops for dinner. A healthy dose of cayenne pepper and multiple other supporting spices were rubbed onto the chops, which he then pan-seared. He tossed a bunch of miniature carrots and some dill into the pan and roasted it all in the oven. While it was cooking, he sauteed spinach and garlic. While the meat rested, he juiced an orange into the carrots and let the liquids reduce. While the flavor combinations may seem a bit strange, the overall combination of worked extremely well together. So simple, so easy, I stood in the kitchen with a glass of wine and chatted while he cooked. Hurrah!

I contributed a fig and raspberry galette for dessert.

the Dukes Martini

In celebration of my 33rd birthday, Nilay, Gabe, Carrie and I went to Dukes, purportedly home of the best martini in London.

The more than stuffy bartenders in Dukes make martinis the way that the inventor of the martini intended. He carried a small table to us, which held an icy bottle of vodka, a small carafe of vermouth, extremely well chilled martini glasses, a few lemons and a knife. Smirking of an elaborate ritual, he shook a few drops of vermouth into each glass, then carefully filled with the vodka. In one swoop, he sliced peel from the lemon, twisted it over the vodka to extract the oils in the peel, waved it over the rim of the glass and added to the drink. And then, we were allowed to drink what has to be the finest martini that I've ever experienced in my life.

I've been thinking about why the martini was so good (good enough, in fact, that I had a second). Partly the quality of the vodka, no Smirnoff, I believed he used a Polish vodka which I'll be looking for at bev mo shortly, partly the atmosphere, partly the bouquet, partly the company. All combined together - the perfect martini.

Gabe suggested Fakhreldine for dinner. Great Lebanese food. Incredible bottle of chateau de-neuf (I may have messed up on the French name of the bottle).

It was a very happy birthday :)

Good German Food

Traveling in Germany is probably bad for vegetarians. Lots of meat, potatoes, soups, heavy foods. Luckily, I was spawned from good Polish stock and grew up in a meat and potatoes family food environment, so for me, German food is close to comfort food.

I loved my cheese sausage with fried potatoes. Vegetables, as in a salad, may have accompanied, but I don't recall. I do remember some excellent beer. And after watching Nilay and Bryan try to decipher the German menu, smartly ask the waiter for the English version. It worked, we ate well. I bet that they don't ask for directions, either.

Meatballs in a cream sauce (and yes, I know I'm not a big fan of cream sauces) were quite scrumptious, especially because the sauce was studded with capers and it was all served with plain boiled potatoes, which cut the richness. Again, more beer. Actually, much beer was consumed on the trip. We were in Berlin, after all.

I should also mention the beer hall pretzel. Soooo good.

And Turkish for lunch during one particularly hungover day, mainly for Bryan and Nilay. (the hangover, not the food) In fact, when I ordered a beer, they adopted squeamish looks and groaned. I had a tasty lamb kebab served with a spicy tomato source over pieces of bread and a huge dollop of plain yogurt. While the combination sounds odd, it worked well. Nilay ordered the same dish, and after all, great minds do think alike.

BTW, Berlin is incredible. A very young and vibrant city. Amazing nightlife. Great and friendly people. And good beer! I can't wait to go back.

Dining in the Dark

Somehow, dining in darkness sounded like a good idea. Nilay heard about the Dunkel Restaurant in Berlin, which offered just such an experience. When committing, I imagined that a few strategically placed tea candles, maybe in the corners of the room or perhaps, even one or two on the tables. For not the first, or I'm fairly certain, the last time in my life, I was wrong.

Imagine being unable to see the person sitting across from you while eating. Imagine not being able to see your face in front of your hand. Literally. Then think about eating is this environment. That was my night.

At first, entering the restaurant was disconcerting. Nilay, Bryan, Pete, Sufern, Nina and myself were linked together and shuffled in, following Manfred, our waiter. It took several minutes for me to orient myself, to adjust myself to the pitch black darkness. I understand how panic could have set in for some. Once adjusted, it was a very interesting experience, especially once the food arrived and we all confessed to repeatedly stabbing what we thought was food with our fork, only to discover that we had somehow missed the food once the fork passed through our lips. And laughed about that, and through the conversation, as all good dining companions should do.

It's not worth spending much time discussing the food. We were given clues and a general theme for each four course meal that we chose, and then discussed amongst ourselves and figured out exactly what we were eating. The food was decent, certainly not de kas, or even any of my other favorites throughout the world. (For future reference, I had an appetizer of veg and ravioli, pumpkin soup, lamb and potatoes and pineapple and oranges for dessert).