The Hungry Engineer

No Common Pigs Here

April — Tue, 24 Jan 2012 04:04:00 GMT

The day after Thanksgiving, a wonderful thing happened. The Noble Pig, a favorite local eatery of ours, opened their deli counter and began serving charcuterie. Shortly before that, we were fortunate to be invited to a preview event where we were able to sample a wide variety of these offerings for free.

Our normal habit is to drive up to Noble Pig once in a while early in the afternoon on a Saturday or Sunday. Their dining menu is uncomplicated, but extremely well executed. My two very favorite sandwiches are the seared beef tongue and the duck pastrami. They're both rich, incredibly flavorful, and perfect with TNP's excellent house pickles served alongside. We've had their breakfast as well, and it is also very much worth the trip.

On this fine fall evening though, it was (mostly) charcuterie we were sampling. Everything we tried was good, but my favorite was probably the pork terrine. It was soft and fatty and wonderfully porky and very well seasoned.

The linguisa terrine was very nice as well, and many might find its spicy undercurrent more appealing.

Glistening slices of rosy duck prosciutto were another favorite. I attempted to make duck prosciutto at one point. TNP's version is so much better. I need to practice!

The rest of our sampling is shown below, in no particular order.

Pate with Blueberry / Apple Compote

Duck Pastrami and Beef Pastrami

Duck Pate

Bratwurst and Italian Sausage

London - The Eating Part

April — Mon, 21 Nov 2011 03:01:00 GMT

Everyone has heard time and again how awful British food once was and how it's much better now. I cannot attest to the former, but I can say that we had no trouble finding a delicious meal during our stay in London.

We were fortunate to rent an apartment during our stay in London, so we had a small refrigerator that we could keep stocked to accommodate our tourist-random schedule. Periodically, throughout our two week stay, we'd wander over to the grocery store across the street and grab drinks, bread, cold cuts, and various random food items that we wouldn't typically find on our American store shelves. The refrigerator also enabled us to pick up random perishable goods at different markets (Marks & Spencer, Neal's Yard Dairy) to be consumed as it suited us rather than immediately.

While out and about, though we often had means planned, we also partook of whatever struck our fancy at any given time. As mentioned previously, eating at the various museums and sites that we visited turned out to be much less dicey than it is here in the States. Pretty meat pies, rich sausage rolls, and a variety of delicate pastry were often available to us, as well as an interesting selection of drinks. We also grabbed sandwiches several times from a place known simply as Eat. Eat bills itself as a "real food company. " They have soups, sandwiches, salads, drinks, and baked goods. Their items are packaged, but clearly freshly made (nothing more than a day old, according to their website), and the variety was impressive.

We also spent some time seeking out the British things you always hear about. We had fish and chips at Fryer's Delight, which were exactly what we had hoped for. We had steak and kidney pie at Newman Arms. We had our first properly pulled pints at Guinea Pub. And of course, Laura helped us find our way to a nice cream tea and later on to some black pudding.

All of this was lots of fun, but there were three meals that really stood out to me on our trip.

About three days into our stay at London, we happened to be in the neighborhood, and though it was a little early (only 6!), we decided to stop in at Polpo for dinner. It's a good thing we did. We had no reservation and within a few short minutes of having been seated, the place filled to capacity, and by the time we left, it was overflowing with interested patrons. Polpo models itself loosely after a Venetian bacaro. A bacaro is essentially a Venetian bar, usually offering drinks and local traditional snacks. From my not-terribly-worldly-wise perspective, Polpo seemed rather like a highly refined Italian version of a tapas bar. Despite somewhat mixed reviews, I was eager to try it. Plus, though we didn't partake, they have a Campari bar. How cool is that?

We started our fun and highly toothsome dinner with toast with lardo and white truffle honey. Despite my affinity for pork and my willingness to sample nearly any culinary curiosity, I had never had it before. Lardo is essentially cured pig fat, usually served sliced very thin atop warm bread, the heat from the bread slightly melting the fat. This is exactly the effect that Polpo achieved with their serving of lardo. The drizzling of light, fragrant honey was a beautiful pairing with the rich, herby fat.

Next we were served mackerel tartare with horseradish. Uchi has taught me to love mackerel. Polpo showed me that that love was intercontinental. The dish was well-seasoned and nicely executed; believe it or not, the chef had enough restraint with the horseradish that it complemented rather than overpowered the fish.

Our third course was a cured pork shoulder and peperonata panino. This was not our most novel course, but the sandwich's innards were tasty and the bread pleasantly crispy.

Our vegetable was roasted asparagus with anchovy butter and hard Italian cheese. The uber-savory anchovy butter was perfect alongside the plump stalks of slightly firm asparagus.

Next we had cuttlefish and ink gnocchi, a tar-black dish that we haven't had the pleasure of eating since rambling along the Ligurian coast during a trip to Italy several years ago. It was everything I hoped for.

Then we had a rabbit terrine with what looked to be a mostardo. Again, the execution was perfect. Fatty slightly loose terrine was, if memory serves, dotted with little bits of fruit.

We couldn't decide between desserts, so we shared two, a flourless orange and almond cake with mascarpone and a ricotta and chocolate crumble. Both of these were exactly my kind of dessert: rather atypically flavored and not overly sweet.

It was on our anniversary that we lucked into another of our favorite meals (Yalla Yalla) and then followed it up with the meal I had anticipated for weeks (St John).

Yalla Yalla, a place that serves Beirut street food, was actually (if you can believe this) recommended in one of our guidebooks. The Wardour Street area is apparently known for its excellent variety of international cuisine, and while it probably would have been wiser of us to wander around and choose a place that interested us, I couldn't help but have a plan in place. Yalla Yalla (which my Jordanian friend tells me means "let's go, let's go!"), was full of wonderful items to sample. I could have eaten there several times and not gotten to try everything that caught my eye. The place was incredibly tiny. We felt a little gawky and out of place blocking traffic while we waited for a table to clear.

We each had wraps as our main meal. Sean had chicken shawarma and I had lamb kofta. Both were beautifully seasoned and served with a light but very intense garlic sauce.

We shared a potato dish called Batata Harra. Our friend Laura thought we were hilarious because we had eaten all this great stuff and all we could keep gushing about was this bowl of potatoes.

Finally, I tried the lamb sfiha, which was essentially seasoned ground lamb served on a flatbread and drizzled with pomegranate molasses. While I enjoyed the flavors very much, the bread was so incredibly tough that I saved my tummy real estate for kofta and batata harra.

It was really very unfortunate that we enjoyed Yalla Yalla as much as we did because we ate so much that later that night, we weren't especially hungry. We had reservations at St John for our big anniversary dinner, reservations I had made almost as soon as we had decided we were going to London. St John is one of Fergus Henderson's restaurants. As the man responsible for bringing offal to the masses and changing the way we think about eating a pig, I have nothing but reverence for Mr Henderson.

Housed in what used to be a smokehouse, St John has whitewashed walls and is spare in decor. We were seated at communal tables and served by polite but succinctly efficient waitstaff. I could not have been happier. There was no fuss, no dinner theatre … I'm not even sure there was garnish - just plate after plate of locally sourced, decidedly British, perfectly-prepared food.

We started with the bone marrow with parsley salad, of course. As something of a signature St John dish, I sort of felt like we had to have it. Bone marrow is rich and spreadable. We slathered it on hunks of toast and ate it with bites of acid-dressed parsley salad to help cut the fat. My one apprehension was that despite the lack of pomp at the restaurant, generally speaking, the British appear to have beautiful table manners. I, on the other hand, do not. I tend to approach food consumption from a very practical viewpoint, often resulting in an utter lack of grace. This was especially uncomfortable given that we sat shoulder to shoulder with a table full of locals. I tried my best to mimic our table mates, but in the end, those bones were getting picked up and hollowed out so that I could extract every last luscious nub of marrow from them.

Next we had an offal terrine. It had a variety of bits and parts in it, and consequently was a study in texture as well as flavor.

Sean had bream and courgettes for his main course. The bream wound up being a whole fish. Sean, who is much more adept at the table manners game, managed to essentially extract the fillets from his cooked fish without ever placing hands on the meat. The fish was obviously incredibly fresh and because Mr Henderson tends not to over-do things, it was gently seasoned so that the wonderful flavor of the fish itself could be savored. Sean pointed out that if more fish tasted like this, he'd eat more fish.

I wound up choosing the day's special, sweetbreads with bacon and peas. Everything was perfectly cooked, and tied together with a very light, slightly sweet sauce. With soft sweetbreads, salty chewy pork belly, and slightly crisp peas, it was utter luxury. It occurred to me only later that I hadn't really eaten anything that I hadn't eaten before. I am every so slightly regretful of that fact. Then again, it was one of the best meals of our trip, so who am I to quibble.

By this point, I was so full, I was afraid to open my mouth to speak for fear of what might come out. Luckily, our server fixed me up with a serving of St John's famed Eccles Cake with Lancashire Cheese to take home so I could enjoy it the next morning.

Sean, a firm believer that there is always room for sweets, had a very beautiful and rich slab of chocolate for dessert.

All told our meal at St John was a wonderful way to celebrate another year of marriage and an incredible London vacation.

Butcher's Box

April — Tue, 25 Oct 2011 12:00:00 GMT

In the middle of making an effort to write about some of the food and travel things that have been going on in our lives the past few months, we were interrupted by something wonderful that we just have to tell everyone about. It's called the Butcher's Box.

Salt & Time, a local, small-batch salumi and butcher operation that sources all their meats and produce locally, recently began offering Butcher's Box subscriptions. In a manner not unlike Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) shares, one signs up for a 6- or 12-month Butcher's Box subscription, and then once a month, a box full of meaty goodness with your name on it is waiting for you at the specified farmers market.

Not knowing exactly what we were getting into, we opted for the six-month run and then counted the days till we could go pick up our very first Butcher's Box. The pick-up process was easy. They had our names on a list, and we were handed a neatly-packed box full of cryovac-ed meat and a sheet of paper describing the items in our box and listing the farmers whose goods went into that month's selections. Ben and Bryan answered our questions about shelf-life and storage and which items we could freeze without sacrificing flavor and promised there would be accompanying recipes on their website if we needed ideas for how to prepare our goodies (and there were).

Our October box contained the following items: pork tenderloin medallions wrapped in jamon de paleta ("shoulder prosciutto"), chicken brined in Mexican mint marigold, scallions, lemons, and onions and stuffed a dressing made from apples, beer-garlic sausage, and sourdough bread, freshly butchered, never-frozen Dorper lamb chops, savory breakfast sausage, mortadella, pepe salami, bratwurst, and a huge smoked ham hock.

We decided to freeze the bratwurst, the breakfast sausage, and the ham hock. Otherwise though, we made a plan for joyful consumption of entirely too much meat over the next few days.

The chicken, we simply roasted in the oven, no frills. The bird was small, but with the stuffing, it actually made two meals for us. The meat was incredible. If you're tired of tasteless, salmonella-ridden chicken, you could certainly do worse than one of these chickens. Despite the fact that I probably overcooked the meat a bit in an effort to get the stuffing up to a safe temperature, it was incredibly moist. Even the breast meat, which I'm usually pretty ambivalent about, was tender and flavorful.

The Salt & Time guys were very excited about their lamb. Butchered on Thursday, in our hands on Saturday, never frozen, we would likely never have fresher lamb at our disposal. If there was one thing not to freeze, that lamb was it. We treated it simply, coating it lightly in olive oil, salt, and pepper, and grilling it over charcoal. The meat was exceptional; the lamb flavor was clean and distinct. We left it fairly rare, and it was beyond tender.

If I had to guess at Sean's favorite, I'd say it was the jamon de paleta-wrapped pork tenderloin. Fat medallions of pork came packaged already neatly skewered, so they didn't lose their precious jamon wrapping. I followed Salt & Time's suggestion of simply pan-frying to brown the meat and finishing in a 425 degree (F) oven. The pork loin stayed moist and tender, and the salty punch of the jamon was delicious alongside.

About a week after we received our box, we thawed the breakfast sausage and used it to make sausage gravy to accompany our freshly baked buttermilk biscuits. The sausage, even raw, smelled incredible. In that gravy, it was divine. I'm sure it's crazy to say, but that breakfast sausage has been one of the stand-outs of this month's butcher's box.

For those interested, information on subscribing to the Salt & Time Butcher's Box can be found here. I'm guessing some of you will be startled by the cost, and here is my comment to that. If you are the sort who is willing to pay local / sustainable / small-batch prices, this box is a good value. If you're a grocery store meat shopper, this may seem like too little for the cost. If you're in the latter category and like the idea but aren't quite willing to commit to a multi-month subscription, I'd advise picking up a few representative items one weekend from Salt & Time's stand at the farmers markets and deciding for yourself if the quality of the product changes your mind. We love it so far for the variety, the quality, and the exposure to things we might not normally cook.

London - The Tourist Part - Part 2

April — Wed, 19 Oct 2011 03:15:00 GMT

I swore when I started writing about our trip, I wasn't going to torture folks with a play-by-play of our vacation, but it seems I haven't done a very good job. Unfortunately for you, I'm too far in to quit now! Luckily, in my weariness, my notes are much more sparse through the remainder of the trip.

We started our anniversary morning at St Paul's Cathedral. I will not lie; our cathedral experiences were starting to feel a little redundant. That said, each that we visited was also radically different. For instance, St Paul's lets the light in much mores than Westminster Abbey, and consequently, there was a bright, airy feel to the place rather than the more somber mood of the Abbey. That said, its list of famous corpses was much smaller. William Blake is laid to rest there as well as Christopher Wren. We climbed to the top of this one too and saw the view of the city from the top viewing platform of the cathedral.

We had an incredible lunch of Beirut street food at Yalla Yalla (more on this later). Our intention had been to go to the Photographers Museum after this, however, when we got over there, we found that it was undergoing a major restoration and wouldn't be open again till later on this year.

Instead, we headed over to Neal's Yard so Sean could snap some photos and so I could visit Neal's Yard Dairy. Just walking into the cheese shop, we were overwhelmed by the aroma of cheese. As we headed in, several young girls came rushing out, noses pinched between thumb and forefinger. After a few short minutes, a cheese monger took our indecisive and uneducated selves under his care and guided us through a tasting of a handful of remarkable local cheeses. We left with small wedges of three gorgeous cheeses and a sense of accomplishment.

Our afternoon of dining and nibbling had left us a bit of the full side for our main attraction that evening - St John. I had been prattling on about eating at Fergus Henderson's restaurant from the moment we began thinking of taking a trip to London. The restaurant did not disappoint, but of course, I will (try to) write up our experience there more thoroughly soon.

The next day was gloriously uncomplicated. We started by visiting Speakers Corner in Hyde Park. It's meant to be a place were people get up on their (sometimes literal) soapbox and pontificate on all manner of political and social topics. The real allure, we'd read, was the banter that often sprung up between the speakers and their hecklers. Sean and I were both pretty jazzed about it. Unfortunately, and maybe this isn't always the case, when we were there, the speakers seemed to universally have a religious agenda. We did not stay long.

We spent our day wandering in parks and looking at fountains and moseying through the streets of London. We did take a crack at visiting Harrods and experiencing their incredible food court. The selection of goods available for procurement was indeed impressive. The crowds, however, were so madly bustling that it was difficult to really enjoy the experience.

On our to-do list while visiting London was to sample a bit of the local cocktail scene. We had a list of places that we might be interested in trying, but as it happened, only one of those places was open on Sunday. We finished out our evening at the tiny bar with no name at 69 Colebrooke Row.

A theatre experience was also on our to-do list, so the plan the next day was to line up early at The Vaudeville to see if we could score day tickets to that evening's showing of In A Forest Dark and Deep by Neil Labute - a two-person play starring Matthew Fox and Olivia Williams. For about ten pounds each, we wound up with front row seats to see the production.

We spent our afternoon at the British Museum. I can't even begin to explain the immensity of this place or the sheer diversity of the artifacts contained therein. I swear to you, we could have spent a week touring different parts of this place and not exhausted its offerings. As it was, we spent a few hours meandering through a list of highlights, taking regular side trips to see random items that struck our fancy.

Slow starts to our days were becoming something of a pleasant habit at this point in our trip. We dickered around our apartment then went for a full English breakfast at a place called Canteen. Huge plates of eggs and sausage and tomatoes and potatoes landed in front of us. It was all we could do to finish. We spent part of our time at breakfast trying to decide how much or how little of the whole changing of the guard thing we cared to see.

We had wandered past Buckingham Palace before and it was truly a madhouse, so we decided to head over to see the Queen's Life Guard at the Horse Guards instead. Beautiful and amusingly antsy horses were topped with tidy-uniformed, shiny-hatted guards. We watched them stand at attention for while, observed the guard change and then headed out.

Our next stop was to visit the Churchill War Rooms. As a US citizen, my perspective on war is that it's a horrible thing that happens in other places. Our soldiers cross oceans to fight wars. Our leaders can make decisions from their quiet offices, can sleep in their own beds at night. World War II tore through Europe. Churchill did his leading from an underground set of rooms. And when he slept, it was on a narrow bed underground with the calamity of bombs and air raid sirens serving as alarm clocks. The War Rooms, filled with various pieces from the period, were a fascinating view into subterranean war-time living and working. The accompanying Churchill museum provided plenty of insight into a complex and effective war-time leader.

After we were through with World War II, we met up with our friend Laura and had cream tea. Amusingly enough, this is the only time we had tea in London. There are two ways to have a proper tea. High tea is (I'm told) a fancy affair filled with finger sandwiches and delicate petit fours and is generally considered to be an actual meal. We had a cream tea which is essentially an afternoon snack of clotted cream and scones served with tea. If you read about English teas at all, you'll find out that they vary somewhat from region to region. The thing I learned from this was that clotted cream is delicious, and I would very much like to try to make some at home.

Our well-fed trio headed to a local grocery store and stocked up on golden syrup and treacle. I had been sort of disappointed that there was no black pudding to be had for breakfast, and after complaining about this to Laura, she found pre-made black puddings at the store that simply had to be pan-fried and eaten. Sold! I'd have breakfast at home the next day. Black pudding is essentially a sausage or meat cake which uses blood as a binder. The Germans have their blutwurst, the French their boudin noir, and the Spanish make morcilla. The UK's black pudding seems to be a very grain-heavy affair, with the blood binder taking something of a back seat and the flavor generally being rich but uncomplicated. To me, it seems the best kind of comfort food - flavorful and filling and undemanding. (Despite how frequently I described it as such, Sean was absolutely unwilling to try it.)

We eventually made our way to Purl Bar, our next cocktail destination of the trip. We were tucked into one of the bar's many quiet corners and enjoyed several of their incredible cocktails before parting ways with Laura and heading to the apartment to get our black pudding in the refrigerator.

Later that night, while wandering around town, we followed our noses to a very lovely dinner. At San Xia Ren Jia, we enjoyed a sizzling platter of twice-cooked pork, rich and lightly sweet Spare Ribs with Glutinous Rice (good, but not nearly as good as the twice-cooked pork), and a garlicky, piquant pile of perfectly cooked green beans. Our waiter couldn't have been nicer as he helped us make our choices and brought our food.

The next day, after frying up a delicious disc of black pudding for my breakfast (sprinkled lightly with salt and served alongside some toast and an over-easy fried egg), we headed out to catch a train to Windsor. Windsor Castle, still a royal residence, is a sprawling, beautifully manicured affair. I most enjoyed wandering around inside the castle grounds. The structures are stately and well-kept and the gardens are absolutely breath-taking. We did take the time to see the doll collection and the impressive state rooms.

Shopping was on the agenda for that afternoon, so once we were back in London, we headed over to the Whiskey Exchange to take a look at their liquor offerings. The array of goods was impressive, but what really caught our collective eye was the bitters they had on their shelves. Silly though it may seem, we left the place with a bag full of nothing but bitters.

Next we headed over to Foyles, a huge and well-stocked book shop. My aim here was British-style cookbooks. Naturally, there were plenty to be had and after choosing several and browsing longingly through their travel section, we headed out for dinner. We hadn't had too many meat pies yet, so we headed out to the Newman Arms. We had pints and fluffy pastry-topped pies of stewed meat (steak and kidney for me). The vegetables served alongside were crisp and delicious - the perfect foil for the rich stew. I don't know if this is universally true, but at least at the Newman Arms, those pies were immense. I ate to discomfort and still it looked like I hadn't eaten even half of my meal (I did, of course, finish my pint).

We punked out on our outing for the next day and decided to book a last minute tour to see Oxford, Stratford-Upon-Avon, and Warwick castle. This tour was everything I don't like about organized tours. The tour group was huge, and I constantly felt rushed. That said, the tour operator was courteous and the buses were punctual, so it certainly could've been worse. Oxford was beautiful, and I wish that we had decided to spend our whole day there. We did get to wander through Christ Church and see a bit of the town, but it was really only a small taste of what we could have seen.

Our meal that evening was one of the best of our trip. Laura and Latch took us to their very favorite Indian restaurant in town, Simply Indian. Among many other delicacies, I was introduced to whitebait, tender little fried fishes which would, if folks were willing to eat them, make excellent bar food.

We started our morning at the Museum of London to see their Street Photography Exhibit, which Sean seemed to particularly enjoy. Then we headed toward St Paul to see the old Routemaster double-decker bus. We had the passing thought that we might hop aboard, but seeing it from the outside seemed more fun. Next on our list was to see Kings Cross and St Pancras station. Kings Cross is undergoing renovation and was a colossal letdown to those of us who are a bit Harry Potter obsessed. St Pancras, on the other hand, was beautiful - immense and full of light. After this, we made our obligatory purchases of unique and interesting liquor that we couldn't get in the States. After dropping this off, we tried Trailer Happiness, a place filled with wonderful rum-based goodness, tacky-in-all-the-right-ways decor, and incredibly welcoming staff. Finally, we celebrated our last night in London with a long walk along the waterfront across from Big Ben and Parliament for some nighttime photos. Frantic packing ensued thereafter.

London - The Tourist Part

April — Sun, 24 Jul 2011 16:37:00 GMT

In late May, early June of this year, Sean and I headed out to London for a couple weeks. We took a few side trips, but generally, we spent the majority of our two weeks hunkered down in London, taking in the sites and tooling around the town. We utilized the services of HomeAway and booked an apartment for the duration of our two week stay. The apartment was small, but functional and very conveniently located near the Elephant and Castle tube station. Amusingly, we were repeatedly told we were not staying in the nicest part of town. I will say, the crowd was young and the sounds of revelry often nudged their way in through our windows, but I never for a moment felt unsafe.

Those of you who travel overseas often will understand what I mean by jet lag. We left Austin at 4 in the afternoon and arrived in London around 10 the next morning. The idea is that you sleep a bit on the plane. Unfortunately for us, neither of us managed to catch even the tiniest hint of rest. We creaked and groaned as we deplaned and made our way through customs at Heathrow. There were a few tiny bumps and snags, but we made it to our apartment and met the very organized and quietly kind woman from whom we'd rented the apartment. Keys were doled out, pleasant words were exchanged, and we both fell blissfully - but against all advice - asleep.

After an all too brief nap, we wandered out to a Carphone Warehouse to arrange for a local pay-as-you-go cell phone so we'd have a relatively inexpensive means of communication while we were in London. The process was painless and proved handy. For about the same amount of money as it would have cost to convert one of our phones, we purchased an inexpensive cell hone and several hundred minutes.

We headed out to the Waterloo Bar + Grill and had an absolutely wonderful dinner. Despite our bloggerly leanings, we elected to treat ourselves to this first meal without the nagging need to properly photograph it. The decision was a good one. It gave both of us a chance to relax a bit and treat our tired selves excellent food without an agenda. We took a nighttime stroll down to the South Bank and saw the iconic London Eye and of course Big Ben and Parliament. And don't you just know it - like the silly Americans we are, we were Chevy Chase-ing with implacable glee.

The next day, now fully rested, we stocked up our tiny refrigerator and medicine cabinet with groceries. Because we have no idea how to relax, we barreled straight away to Trafalgar square. We couldn't have asked for a prettier day. The sky was ridiculously blue, and the temperature was 30-40 Fahrenheit degrees cooler than what we had been wallowing in back home. In fact, the cooler days coupled with the gusty breezes made these two sort-of-Texans hunt down some jackets.

Trafalgar square was, of course, beautiful. We saw Nelson's column, an Olympics countdown clock, an arty ship in a giant bottle, and more tourists than I know what to do with. (I get it, I'm part of the problem here, but I cannot help my antisocial leanings.) After a thorough tour of the square, we took a lengthy stroll through St James Park, gawking at beautifully arranged gardens and all manner of waterfowl. After our very pleasant stroll under a sun that in Texas would've been punishing rather that soul-warming, we decided that we could probably handle a proper tourist attraction. We made our way over to Westminster Abbey. We walked all around, admiring its ornate exterior. Upon noticing the ridiculous lines though, we hatched a new plan. We would hit the popular tourist attractions first thing in the morning and shift to less popular affairs (museums and such) in the afternoons.

With that, we headed over to the National Gallery, and spent several blissful and oddly uncrowded hours gawking at Van Goghs and Monets and Cezannes and a lonely but lovely Vermeer. Every time I visit an art museum, I am struck by the same thought: I wish I understood well enough the artist's societal and/or personal context and the mastery of a given skill or school of practice to properly appreciate what I'm looking at. Either way, I think Sean and I had a good time.

We puttered around Covent Garden, watching street performers doing impossible things and seeing musicians taunt/serenade would-be covert lovers. Given Sean's cocktail research over the last several months, we thought it would be interesting to make a jaunt over to the American Bar at the Savoy. Regardless of being neatly dressed in button-down shirts and non-tattered jeans and dark leather lace-up shoes, we were denied access based on our "sports attire." Regardless, we were told, the bar was full.

Deciding we were really more hungry than in need of cocktails, we headed over to a nearby Wagamama for lovely elderflower sodas and big bowls of comforting udon noodles. As an added bonus, they didn't seem to give two shits about our "sports attire."

One of my favorite London experiences was our lengthy walk that evening. We didn't really have a clear picture of where we were going, beyond to see the Millennium Bridge at night. The whole walk was incredible though. London is oozing so much history and culture, it's almost blase. To us though, with our two hundred-ish year old country, it's beyond incredible. A quiet, late-night stroll netted us the Southwark Cathedral (at least its exterior), the Rose Window of the ruins of the Winchester Palace, and some ornate old English galleon (a replica of the Golden Hinde, a ship known for circling the globe between 1577 and 1580) that (probably because we absolutely weren't expecting it) seemed completely random. We wandered long enough that we were hungry again and split a beef and stilton pasty from a stall in a tube stop. I can't even describe how perfect it was.

The next day, we decided to go full-on tourist and headed out to the Tower of London. You hear about all these things so often from beyond the great blue ocean that they almost become worn and trite. My advice would be to drop the preconceptions and embrace the fact that the history is fascinating.

At the urging of several guide books, upon arriving at the Tower of London, we headed straight to the crown jewels. I couldn't not have made it plainer to Sean that we were going for him and that I couldn't possibly care less about some rich family's overwrought jewelry. I was wrong. It was impressive. Intricate crowns, huge diamonds and sapphires, and ornate dinner things were all laid out for us to see.

After visiting the jewels, we spent several hours wandering around various towers and walkways reading information placards and forgetting half of what we read almost immediately.

Feeling a bit peckish, we decided to see what was on offer at the Tower cafe. We shared a sausage roll and some chips (read: fries). They were startlingly tasty. Fellow Americans take note: food served at national attractions can be more than just a means to an end - it can actually be enjoyable.

After checking out the Tower Bridge, we wandered around some more, sort of unwinding from our busy day. For dinner, we dropped into the Marks and Spencer store and picked up some bread, a lovely selection of Italian cured meats, and a slab of very pretty English blue cheese, called Blacksticks Blue. Our European experience for the evening was taking a crack at using our washing machine. We were warned that it was only half-size … half of what, I'm not certain. It was tiny. I'm sure as an American, I'm spoiled by our ability to spread out and take up space. London is, on the other hand, on a smallish island filled with a huge number of people. As it was, we were each able to fit about one change of clothes into it. It was late when we started our little load of laundry. For such a diminutive appliance, it made an incredible racket. The spin cycle was set at 1200 RPM, and I'd have sworn there was a helicopter landing in our room.

Westminster Abbey was our target the next morning. Sadly, we weren't allowed to photograph the inside of the abbey. The abbey itself was incredible. No surface was left unadorned. It was honestly difficult to take it all in. I am not a religious person, but the notion that these sorts of things were "built to God's glory" seems more accurate here than in any church of the small local churches I attended while growing up. One of the most interesting things were the graves and monuments. Westminster Abbey has a whole host of famous corpses. Among them are Sir Isaac Newton, Charles Darwin (!), Joule and Faraday. There were more authors than I'll ever remember - Lewis Carroll, CS Lewis, TS Eliot, Thomas Hardy, and on and on. Somehow, even Laurence Olivier got himself buried in the Abbey.

Next, we trundled over to Chelsea Physic Garden. It was small but pleasant enough. The pharmaceutical garden and the small room housing carnivorous plants were favorites. From there, we headed to the river and walked a portion of the Thames Path to see Battersea Power Station. Then we headed to the Guinea to have our first actual pints. I had the Young's Bitters which were pleasant enough, but Sean had the seasonal special, whatever it was called, and it was glorious. The pubs were initially a bit confusing to us. We'd walk up to a random pub and see people spilling out into the streets, beers in hand. I am notoriously crowd-averse, so we had been avoiding them. We learned two important things though. First, just because the streets are full of people, doesn't mean the inside is overcrowded. Second, the fine weather we were experiencing is a rare and short-lived thing. No Londoner wants to be sitting inside a dark pub on a day like that, hence beer in the streets.

After an excellent dinner at Polpo (more on that later), we rode the London Eye as close to nighttime as we were able. At this relatively northern latitude, the summer days are very long indeed. It was full-on daylight bright at 5 in the morning and the sky was only just darkening at 9 at night, so near 9pm ride was actually fairly bright.

The next day, we headed out of town. Our intended destination was Stonehenge, but we decided to head out to Salisbury early so we could wander around town a bit before our tour started. After an easy train ride, we walked a short path to take photos of the Salisbury Cathedral across a sheep-strewn field. A light rain began to fall and a strong wind began to blow. It was shortly thereafter that we discovered our lightweight umbrellas (purchased specifically for this trip - there were previously no umbrellas in our house) were nigh on useless. A kindly gentleman chatted with us a few minutes about the llama that used to live there to keep foxes away. I asked him if it had worked. He shrugged, grinned, and told me he didn't know, but that he believed anything he was told so we shouldn't necessarily listen to him. We wandered back into town and had a relatively cost-effective and reasonably tasty lunch at the Old Mill restaurant.

We still had some time to kill before our Stonehenge tour, so we went inside the Salisbury Cathedral. The church was smaller, but very pretty. And, we discovered after we got there, it had a very well preserved page from the Magna Carta on display. From Salisbury, we met up with our Stonehenge tour group and the best of guides, Pat Shelley.

He drove us to Woodhenge and explained how Stonehenge isn't actually a henge at all. He showed us the Cursus and the barrows (burial mounds). And he eventually walked us up the original avenue that would have been used in Stonehenge's heyday to get a mounting and theatrical view of the stones as travelers crested the hill.

He filled us with more information than I could even pretend to remember. We were allowed to traipse around among the stones (so long as we in no way touched them as they're covered with a sizable quantity of species of lichen, many of which are quite rare). During our Stonehenge experience, I was rained on, windswept, and very nearly frozen to the core, and I would still say that tour was one of the highlights of our trip.

The week was winding down and we were wearing out, so we took the next morning easy. Around midday, we decided to head over the Borough Market to browse the stalls and fill up for lunch. We had a delicious chorizo, piquillo pepper, and rocket sandwich courtesy of Brindisa. We had some delicious gnocchi and pesto sauce from a small Italian booth specializing in fresh pastas, and Sean wrapped it up by having a very dense, rich brownie. All told, we enjoyed a highly satisfying lunch.

We had sort of had our fill of cathedrals for a bit, so instead, we decided to head over to the Monument. The Monument was built as a memorial to the people and buildings destroyed in the Great London Fire of 1666. We walked up its many spiraling steps (311) to get up to the viewing platform to see a wonderful panorama of the city. it's an open air platform, and you're essentially protected from plummeting to your death by a metal rail and some wire meshing that rather reminded me of chicken wire. The views really were incredible and after we caught our breath, cooled off a bit, and took our fill of pictures, we headed back down to the bottom where we were each awarded a certificate for our trouble.

Even on our easy day, we couldn't sit still, so we headed next to Tate Modern. It stays open a bit later on Friday, so even though it was already late in the day, we had plenty of time to wander the galleries at our leisure. We saw Picassos, Dalis, Pollacks, and Monet's Water Lilies. We saw some truly fascinating photography exhibits. It was well past nine by the time we were through.

I don't think either of us realized how much our daily rhythm was synchronized to the movement of the sun. It often didn't occur to us to start looking for dinner till after dark. It was well past 9 when we left the museum, and many of our eating options were shut for the night. We knew of at least one place that would be open though - Fryer's Delight. It's supposed to be a cabbies' favorite for fish and chips. I don't know about all that, but we certainly enjoyed it. The chips especially were incredible - Sean was particularly enamored with the less-sweet-more-vinegary catsup they were served with. Our fish was fresh (I had cod, Sean had haddock) and the breading crispy.

Part 2 coming soon … hopefully!

The Ass End of Behind

April — Mon, 20 Jun 2011 23:57:00 GMT

Yeah, we're totally still talking about things that happened in March. But no matter, this one is worth talking about. Second Bar + Kitchen. It's part of a trio of what I'm certain are top notch eateries tucked into 200 Congress Ave, but this is the only one we've managed to visit. And we've visited it more than once. Part of our SXSW respite was to take a break in the afternoon to rest our weary feet and consume grown-up beverages. Second Bar + Kitchen proved to be a lovely oasis.

I don't want you to think for even a moment that the title of this post has anything at all to do with the restaurant. Seriously - it's just me. I am not good at balancing work life with the rest of life, and it shows in how much I'm not cooking and not writing. All that to say, restaurant good, hungry engineer baaad. Because it's been a bit since we've been down this way, my details will be a little sketchy, but I have to at least share with you what I can recall.

First and foremost - sit at the bar and try something new. There was not a single drink we tried that we didn't enjoy. The flavor combinations are inventive and the folks on deck seemed genuinely concerned with finding something you'll enjoy and ensuring your chosen libation is well-made.

Here are a few of the things we tried: Havel’s Transformer, a mixture of silver tequila, orange juice, house grenadine, hot sauce, and egg white; Red River Revival (a personal favorite), which consisted of Aperol, Carpano Antica, lime juice, and house grenadine; Oaktown Beat-Down (which is to say, a Mai Tai), Appelton Estate rum, Mount Gay Extra Dry rum, lime juice, orgeat, and Luxardo Triplum, and the Tennyson Tumbler - Strongbow, Tennyson Absinthe, and Peychaud's bitters.

Scattered throughout in no particular order are photos of some of the drinks we enjoyed (and which may only minimally correspond with the drinks listed above - we've drunk here more often than we've photographed).

Not to be upstaged by the drinks though are the highbrow-end-of-casual dishes that are carefully prepared and prettily presented.

Our table-favorite was the Black Truffle Pommes Frites with grana padano and truffle aioli. The fries were perfectly cooked. and that aioli was a creamy-zingy bite of heaven, and all of it was consumed in a black truffle haze. The aroma was intense.

I have to admit, while the salad greens were tender and gorgeous, it was difficult to tear my attention away from those fries.

The Veal Meatballs "gremolata" were perfect little bites. The veal was tender and gently seasoned and the lemon added just the right kind of brightness.

Sean was gaga for the Pepperoni Soup with garlic croutons. I had a bite too. it was rich and warm and like the very best parts of pepperoni pizza transformed into soup. I don't know how it would play with our current 100+ degree days, but in March it was divine.

While we didn't manage to photograph it, I think I had the winning dish of the evening - the Texas Benedict with poached eggs, pulled pork, and jalapeno corn biscuits all gently slathered in a spicy chorizo gravy.

Sean was in love with his Congress Burger - house ground brisket and chuck with shallot confit, gruyere, greens and horseradish pickles. I got the impression it was amongst his favorite burgers in Austin. Unfortunately, he wouldn't stop eating long enough to confirm my hunch.

The menu is ever-changing, so we really need to make a point to go down and eat there again. While none of us are too keen to leave the house during the daylight hours right now, I'm guessing a late-night drive out to have fancy nibbles and pretty cocktails would alleviate much of the discomfort.

House Special

April — Sat, 30 Apr 2011 12:47:00 GMT

There's a place in north Austin where, for a few dollars (very few), you can get a beautifully constructed Vietnamese banh mi sandwich. The filling of choice, often some sort of meat, is topped with lightly pickled daikon radish and carrot and sprinkled liberally with fresh cilantro. All this is encased in some of the most perfect French bread I've ever had the pleasure to eat. Some mayonnaise ties it all together and slices of fresh jalapenos are offered on the side so the heat may be adjusted to your liking. It may not look like much from the outside, but Baguette House is well worth a visit.

We're shameful about eating within a very small radius of where we live. In fact, the busier our work-lives get, the tighter that radius constricts. It took this post from our Boots in the Oven friends to get our butts over to Baguette House, and we've been eating there routinely ever since.

Sean and I now even have our standard order.

We will start our meal by splitting the Grilled Pork Spring Rolls. These are served with a sweet and a spicy dipping sauce which, right or wrong, we immediately dump together and spoon sparingly into our spring rolls as we eat them. If what you're used to are fried egg rolls, these are an entirely different experience. Their thin, tacky rice wrappers are filled with rice noodles, some herbs and vegetables for added flavor and texture, and in this case, thin slices of grilled pork. They're cool and refreshing and so much better than egg rolls on a hot Texas afternoon.

I will have their #1 House Special Combination - sliced jambon, head cheese, pork meat loaf, and pate. I love the layers of variously textured and flavored meats. Their relatively high fat content works wonderfully with the acid of the pickled veggies and the heat of the jalapeno slices.

Sean will have the #6 - Grilled Pork. Sean is not a fan of head cheese, so I can't even get him to try the sandwich I love so dearly. Luckily there are many options at Baguette house that don't require you eat things you are uncomfortable with (menu here - warming, PDF). Sean's grilled pork is, more often than not, sweet and tender and just the right amount of moist. It's very occasionally a bit on the dry side, but it's never stopped us from coming back and trying again. I recently ventured out and tried something different - the #12 - Cajun Shrimp. Its still-warm, lightly salty-spicy nuggets of shrimp warmed the mayo to a rather sauce-like consistency and made for an entirely different banh mi experience.

Sometimes, Sean will also have dessert. I'm certain there is a lovely French name for his pastry of choice, but we refer to this as a cream horn. He has repeatedly pronounced their rendition wonderful.

One of the best things about Baguette House is, not surprisingly, their bread. It is crackle-crisp on the outside and soft and tender on the inside. Plus, the bread to filling ration in the sandwich is just about perfect. You still are able to enjoy the excellent French bread flavor without having it overwhelm the sandwich.

Unfortunately, my pitiful American mouth is no match for the very crispy bread, and I often leave with the roof of my mouth having been a bit torn up. I never regret it, and the pain is usually gone within a day or so. And it's usually not long before all memory of it is gone and I'm back to subtley suggesting that it might be nice to drive over to Baguette House for banh mi again. Highly recommended.

Not Hipster Enough to Willingly Drink PBR

April — Fri, 29 Apr 2011 02:52:00 GMT

I had been babbling about the opening of Haddingtons for a couple weeks before we finally made our way down to try it out. Sean and I had been deep in the throes of our new cocktail habit, and I tried to lure Sean downtown with the promise of “seeing how the professionals do it.” We were seated nowhere near the bar at the time, but we certainly enjoyed the fruits of the professionals' efforts. The craft cocktails were the draw for me, but the food is every bit as enticing. We’ve been back repeatedly, at all hours of the day and night, and have yet to leave disappointed.

Most recently, we stopped by with a friend of ours during SXSW. We’re of a certain age, and collectively decided that rather than rawking as hard as we could rawk all day and all night, we’d have a mid-afternoon sit-down to rest our weary legs. One afternoon, Haddingtons provided exactly the brand of relief we were seeking. Plus we finally managed to sit at the bar.

Haddingtons bills itself as an American tavern, and while I have no real frame of reference, I’m told it is not unlike a traditional British pub. For my part, I’d call the aesthetic classic without being fussy. It’s dark without being dingy, dark-wooded but not overwhelmingly masculine. There are a variety of small rooms appointed with fixtures and finishes of differing styles, and it gives the place a sort of comfortable if mildly labyrinthine feel. And the bar staff and wait-staff are knowledgeable without the dogma or pretension that seems to plague some craft cocktail joints.

Our drinks during our SXSW refuge were numerous and varied, and I’m sorry to say, my details are a little sketchy at this point. The cocktail menu is divided into house cocktails - homegrown originals and classic cocktails - Haddingtons take on tried and true classics.

Dover to Calais (navy strength rum, Green Chartreuse, orgeat, lime, Peychaud’s bitters) – Sean has this every time he goes – it’s his favorite.

Devil’s Moustache (mezcal, Cynar, lime, orange bitters) – clean and smoky – possibly my new favorite, though with a changing menu, who knows how long it’ll be there. This makes me want to procure a bottle of mezcal … and Cynar.

Blood and Sand (scotch, Cherry Heering, sweet vermouth, orange) – this is one from the classic cocktail menu. If you enjoy scotch but have never tried it in a cocktail, this one’s a dandy to try.

Conundrum (blue corn whisky, sloe gin, Fernet Branca) – the first sip was a bit bracing, but follow-up sips allowed for greater appreciation. I did not dislike it, but I would probably not order it again. Perhaps my palate just wasn’t ready.

Japanese Cocktail (cognac, orgeat, aromatic bitters) – This is another one of the classics. Sean was totally in love with this drink. I’m actually surprised he’s not tried to make it on his own yet.

The last and most lovely of our drinks is one that our out of town friend ordered. And I’m sad to report that I absolutely cannot remember the name of it. You may wonder how it is that any self-respecting man can order a drink that pink. But let me just tell you, it was not long before he had a very pretty woman wander up to find out what he was drinking, and they carried on for quite some time. I’m pretty sure Sean and I became so much background noise at some point.

We ordered a few appetizers because (a) they’re wonderful, and (b) it just seemed like good policy not to down several strong cocktails on an empty stomach. I love the Haddington’s rendition of scotch eggs. They’re pickled quail eggs coated in a light layer of sausage and delicately fried.

I’m personally completely in love with their toast pots. My very favorite is the truffled egg custard. It’s beautiful sunny egg yolk stares proudly from its perch atop a decadent, ridiculously creamy custard. Lean in to take a bite, and you’re overwhelmed by the luscious truffle aroma. Sean’s favorite (and my very close second) is the duck liver mousse. It’s wicked-rich and slightly sweet with a livery undercurrent that makes you wonder why you loathed liver with such fervor as a child. These are accompanied by lightly grilled bread on which you can liberally smear your custard and mousse.

We don’t have photos to back it up, but I can personally attest to the fact that the duck meatloaf is wonderful, and Sean is quite fond of the British meatballs. The brunch, is hearty and well-prepared (the sausage in particular is powerfully delicious), and fear not, it is accompanied by brunch-friendly drinks.

Properly fortified we barreled back out into the festivities. Our legs were rested, tummies full, and souls well-lubricated. I cannot recommend this place enough.

A Cocktail a Day

April — Thu, 24 Mar 2011 02:15:00 GMT

We have a new hobby. Well, I guess it's not actually new. We've dabbled off and on with the idea of making cocktails at home. Unfortunately Sean's stubborn wife (me) was too dead-set against anything that smacked of being "too sweet." Consequently, I didn't venture much beyond an occasional Manhattan. Well, this past fall, we began delving in earnest into the delightful, if sometimes difficult to clearly recall world of cocktail mixing.

I've wanted to write about our new hobby for a while. I'm excited! For one, we are having so much fun playing with new (and old) cocktail recipes. For another, this is a great time to be mixing drinks. There's a wealth of solid information at one's disposal. Plus, the variety of ingredients is staggering, with new craft distillers popping up all the time. Unfortunately for me, that means it's tough to know where to start … so I figured I'd start by sharing some of the basic things we've learned.

Just like cooking, your drinks will only be as good as your ingredients. Use freshly squeezed fruit juices. Do not buy sweet and sour mix. Use pure agave tequila. Buy naturally flavored liqueurs. Do a little bit of reading before diving in and grabbing a bottle of gin. Talk to your local liquor store guru - these guys definitely have an opinion. More expensive doesn't always mean better, but super cheap will, more often than not, taste super cheap.

Know how to take care of your ingredients. Refrigerate your vermouth and don't keep it around for more than a month or two! We were among those guilty of having a bottle of ancient vermouth stuck in the liquor cabinet next to the bourbon and the bitters (Manhattans, remember). I was hell-bent that Sean go easy on the vermouth, very easy. He used to tease me constantly that what I really wanted to was a glass of bourbon. Turns out, when you treat your vermouth kindly, it tastes much better, and more classical proportions can be adhered to with delicious results.

Good tools really do make a difference. Here's an example. We've had the same three-piece cocktail shaker for years. The stupid thing leaks, and it takes more patience than I generally have to pour the drink from the shaker. Our mixing enjoyment increased substantially the day we bought our first Boston shaker - a two-piece shaker with a glass tumbler that gets mashed onto a metal tumbler. The 2-piece shaker makes a good seal, pops apart easily, and with a good Hawthorn strainer (we really have enjoyed the Oxo SteeL Cocktail Strainer), pours quickly and neatly.

I also purchased a small, fine-mesh strainer that I pour my freshly-squeezed citrus juice through. I know it sounds overly fiddly, but most of the time, you don't want the citrus pulp in your drinks. Trust me on this, it will make a difference. It's worth the minor investment.

Measure, measure, measure. Good, consistent cocktails are only good and consistent if measured properly. Again, our cocktail making improved substantially when we purchased variously sized jiggers instead of the single graded shot glass we had been using. Once you get a ratio you like, write it down. Your tipsy self will be confident in her memory, but your tipsy self will not remember a week later that perfect proportion of ginger ale to rye.

The last thing that's helped us considerably is finding good, solid information sources. We have one cocktail book in our house - a remnant from college - that claims to have a thousand drink recipes. I can assure you, they are not all winners. As often happens in life, we've learned to appreciate quality over quantity. With that in mind, here are two books that we've found particularly useful (though keep in mind, we probably have purchased half a dozen or more in the past few months in our quest for more information).

The Craft of the Cocktail: Everything You Need to Know to Be a Master Bartender, with 500 Recipes, by Dale Degroff is sort of a good all-round resource. He covers tools, techniques, and ingredients in enough depth to inform, but not so much that it becomes overwhelming. Plus, his recipes are generally pretty solid. This is a great book to start with. I'm convinced that the successes we've had with this book are what have really propelled this drink mixing thing of ours into something of an obsession.

Vintage Spirits and Forgotten Cocktails: From the Alamagoozlum to the Zombie 100 Rediscovered Recipes and the Stories Behind Them, by Ted Haigh (aka Dr. Cocktail) sounds like an esoteric, special-interest kind of book - certainly doesn't seem like the right place for a newb to start. But it's an excellent follow-up to the Degroff book. The history at the beginning is fascinating and the cocktails are all well-described and well-proportioned (and classic). As mentioned, we've purchased several books since, but none that we go to more often than these.

Finally, brace yourself. This can be an expensive hobby. If you look in the front of those drink books, they often start by telling you how to set up your bar - and the list is daunting. We didn't follow any plan, as such, but our liquor store receipts since this past November or so have been … alarming. There are so many great things to try, we kind of don't know when to stop. If you'd like to be more rational in your approach than we've been, there's a neat site that Sean found called 12 Bottle Bar. It likely wouldn't suit all tastes, but with its 12-bottle set up and accompanying recipes, it might not be a bad place to start.

That's our list of things we've picked up over the past few months that have really improved the quality of the drinks we mix. We still have a long way to go before we could consider ourselves experts, but at least the learning is fun.

The Power of Imo's

April — Fri, 11 Mar 2011 02:57:00 GMT

It was only a matter of time before I talked about Imo's Pizza on this blog. People love or hate this pizza; there's rarely a middle ground. While I expect that some of you will never trust my taste buds again after this, I have to admit a love of this pizza that no span of time or leap toward adulthood can undo. Every year when we go back to see my family in Missouri over the holidays, we must, at least once, hit Imo's to partake of a cracker-thin bacon pizza with a side of toasted ravioli.

I can't remember how old I was when I first had this pizza. I think maybe I was with my step-mother shopping or visiting family in St. Louis. We ordered the pizza and while we were waiting, I was warned that the pizza was a little ... different. Now, my family is very polite. Different is typically the nice thing we say instead of horrible or annoying or ugly. I personally love "different," but I know to be wary when it is potentially being put to euphemistic purpose.

In the end different just meant different. For one, the familiar floppy triangle slices were replaced by crispy little squares. Also, the usual mozzarella was absent and was instead replaced by something strong-flavored and entirely other.

Provel cheese is a weird mixture of cheddar, Swiss, and provolone cheeses. To my knowledge, it is not used outside of Missouri. Also (and I'm cringing in anticipation of your reaction) I love it. The cheese - oh, the cheese - it is so wrong and yet so right. I have been known in the past to buy a bunch of provel cheese over the holidays and cart it back to Texas for the express purpose of attempting to make this pizza at home (more on that at a later date, hopefully). In fact, the year before last, I received some for a Christmas present.

As an interesting and somewhat disgusting aside - Sean was horribly wounded in college by this cheese. It isn't nearly so springy as mozzarella, so when it's very hot, it tends to pour liquid-like from its firm-crusted platform. In Sean's case, it cascaded onto his lower lip and chin. From all accounts, the burn was pretty nasty. But get this, he goes back for more Imo's every chance he gets.

I don't know whether I love the pizza more or if it's really the toasted ravioli that I hold most dear. Holy crap,they're delicious. Meat ravioli are breaded and deep-fried and served with marinara or meat sauce. I know it sounds like no big deal, but trust me when I say they are the perfect beer and pizza accompaniment. (I make a respectable toasted ravioli. Hopefully, I'll get around to telling you how I do it; it's not difficult.) Come to think of it, the ravioli are a little dangerous as well. Fresh from the fryer, they're piping hot pockets of steam and molten meat. My approach is to nibble off a corner to let the steam vent and some of the otherwise-pasta-contained heat escape.

This past holiday, we were driving up to St. Louis from my parents' house to visit my brother and his wife and my little, toddling nephew. The skies were threatening rain, but we'd only seen mild sprinkles and weren't all that fussed up about it. We met a friend of ours at what he considers to be the best Imo's in St. Louis, and for the next couple hours were lost in a pizza and ravioli haze, catching up with an old friend and generally enjoying life. We drove over to my brother's house and were met with worried faces. Apparently, while we were comfortably eating our pizza, storms had raged and tornadoes had been sighted not far from where we were eating. We didn't notice a thing. That, my friends, is powerful pizza.

Sean and I order the same thing every time: large bacon pizza and toasted ravioli. This time, our friend taught us a new way of ordering it which accentuates the nature of Imo's thin, cracker-esque crust. Light sauce, extra crispy. The sweet tomato sauce is still a lovely counter to the strips of salty bacon and the creamy tang of the provel cheese, but its presence has been sufficiently diminished to allow the crust to firm up even more than normal. It was so crispy, you got a pleasing snap every time your teeth crunched through another bite. Bliss.

We enjoyed our pizza and ravioli, tornadoes be damned. If you try something "different" yourself, just remember to respect the cheese - it's scary stuff, but worth the risk.