A. L. Kaplan

Tag: Food

  • RED ROVER, RED ROVER

    “Damn fracking,” mumbled McAllister. He stared at the red water in the little creek. “First they cause an earthquake, then they pollute the groundwater. Now something’s using my farm as a fast food highway.”

    After the quake last year he’d been thrilled to have a new creek bubble up across his farm. Not anymore. The weird noises grew louder every night. Livestock vanished with increasing frequency.

    Sweat dripped down McAllister’s back, but not from the sun. Last night he saw something slither up this creek bed, leaving a trail of feathers. A dozen of his best layers, gone. The unearthly prints around the hen house were the only clue something wasn’t right.

    The bushes rustled. High pitched chirping echoed around him. He tightened his grip on the shotgun and kept moving. The air felt charged, pricking his skin. His heartbeat quickened. Maybe it wasn’t the fracking after all. Maybe it was something else.

    Wind and darkness swirled around him. He leaned into the tempest and continued forward. The storm vanished as quickly as it arrived, leaving McAllister in a still and barren landscape with a red stream. He blinked in the bright light and scorching heat. Large and small leathery wings filled the sky. Their screeching and chirps made his hair stand on end, but the golden eyes that studied him nearly made his heart stop.

    “Mmm, a human,” said the dragon. “I wonder if it tastes like chicken.”

    “Looks old and tough. Not enough meat for the children. Throw it back in the portal and try a different opening.”

    The dragon flicked a claw at McAllister knocking him back into the whirlwind. A moment later he landed on his farm next to the now dried creek bed.

  • PASTRY WARS

    “Pies of the world unite! For years we’ve been upstaged at every party. It’s time we take back our glory. We should be at the center of celebrations, not relegated to some back-shelf. By the time we’re done, those smug little cakes are going to lose their frosting.”

    “Can’t we all just get along? You know, play cards or something.”

    “This isn’t a game, Chess. It certainly wasn’t a game when Uncle Bing proposed a merger with that two timing Chocolate Cake. Poor Black Forest still doesn’t know who his true father is. Cake has betrayed us at every turn and I’m not going to stand for it any longer. Now who is with me?”

    “The Apple is in, dearie. And I’ve almost finished knitting our flag.”

    “Thanks, Grannie. It’s beautiful.”

    “You can count on us.”

    “Glad to hear, Rhubarb. And congratulations to you and your blushing bride, Peach. Aw, nuts. Pecan! Shoo Fly! Get these bugs out of here. This is a bakery not a dump. Custard and Cream, you two man the beaters.”

    “Will do.”

    “Cookie.”

    “Sir, yes sir.”

    “Oh for goodness sakes, stop sir sandwiching and grab that glass of milk.”

    “Sir, yes sir.”

    “Pumpkin, wipe that silly grin off your face. Has anyone seen Coconut?”

    “The wacko is hanging from the lamp again.”

    “No need to be so tart, Lemon. Coconut! Quit goofing around and get the rolling pin. Mince, hand out the knives. It’s time to crumb some cake.”

  • Restaurant Review: Peking Chef — If You Like Bland Food This Place Is For You

    Peking Chef restaurant says it specializes in Hunan, Szechuan and Cantonese Cuisine, but we found their food bland. They also offer sushi.

    On a recent Sunday evening my family and I decided to give Peking Chef a try. Located in a corner of the Hickory Ridge Village Center at 6420 Freetown road in Columbia, MD, Peking Chef’s décor is clean and spacious with a clear Asian influence. We were greeted and seated right away, in the nearly empty restaurant. That’s about where the high points end. When we looked around to order, no one was in sight. Even the sushi chef had left his station. Eventually someone showed up and we placed our order.

    First out was my husband’s Hot and Sour soup which was heated with black pepper but otherwise unseasoned. My daughter’s Egg Drop soup was flavorless. They were almost finished with their soup before my Chicken with Corn soup arrived. Any longer and I would have sent it back untouched. I found it bland with a hint of corn flavor and the unpleasant texture of dry chicken crumbles.

    For appetizers we ordered fried dumplings and Barbecued Spareribs. While the filling for the dumpling had an ok flavor, the dipping sauce was mostly vinegar. I ended up using strait soy sauce instead. The ribs were dry and completely tasteless. Even duck sauce couldn’t save them, especially not the thin watery kind they offered.

    Portions on the main course were very good sized for the price. Sadly, the Soft Shell Crab with Ginger Scallion Sauce had a soggy gummy texture. It was slathered in a sauce that would have benefited from much more ginger and scallions. The Shrimp Pad Thai had lots of large shrimp tossed with Chow Foon noodles. Other than a slight smoky flavor, it was bland as well.

    Overall we found both the food and service unimpressive. We didn’t sample any of their sushi, but judging by the lack of turnover, I wouldn’t want to try it.

  • SENTRY

    Sentry Devil’s tongue hung down, heat from the midday sun scorched the lookout rock. In the canyon below a small band of humans struggled through the twists and turns, heading straight for the Black Canyon pack’s den. The scent of dry death hung in the air. How could they not smell the spring only a few hundred yards away? Despite obvious need, the humans stumbled away from the only source of water for miles.

    Humans were food to the Black Canyon leader, but Devil remembered his old human pack. Food had been plentiful, members full of love and kindness. They were gone, killed by the sky fire.

    One of the human pups stumbled, then curled on the ground, whimpering. She was so like his little human. Devil reach the bottom of the canyon before he realized he had left his sentry post. The pack leader wouldn’t be happy.

    Devil approached the humans cautiously, circling around until he stood between them and the spring. The scent of fear was strong, but they didn’t attack. One of the men moved toward him. Devil sprung back, toward the spring, then waited. Bit by bit he drew them closer to the spring, then sat several yards away as they drank their fill. He liked this pack. They felt right and the dried meat they tossed him was good.

    Devil spun around as the Black Canyon leader approached. It was time to oust the real devil and return the Black Canyon pack to humans.

  • Restaurant Review: L’Albatros

    Smack dab in the middle of Case Western Reserve University’s campus is a little gem of a restaurant called L’Albatros. It’s one of those places that college students ask visiting parents to take them because it’s a tad pricy for the average student. It’s also worth every penny. The decor is fresh and elegant, without being stuffy. We wore jeans to lunch, but clearly could have dressed up. Even though we arrived twenty minutes before opening, we were seated right away and served warm bread. The olive oil had a fresh, crisp flavor, which was perfect for dipping the crusty rustic bread. There was a real danger of filling up on the stuff before our lunch arrived.

    009My husband ordered the Mussles with Pommes Frites and Spicy Aioli. A generous portion of tender mussles came in a bowl of butter broth topped with fries and a drizzle of aioli. Yum. The fries were crisp and delicious.

    I had the Watercress “Caesar” salad. 011Served with both black and green olives, it was topped with a liberal portion of shaved parmesan. The anchovies weren’t those shriveled bone filled things you get in most places. These were fresh, fileted, with a slightly pickled flavor reminiscent of herring, but much milder.

    The Braised Shoulder of Lamb my daughter ordered had a rich and comforting flavor, good for a cold day in Cleveland. It was served with pasta risotto and rosemary jus.

    Fresh made pasta, tender, and cut in wide cut strips filled the Pasta Du Jour my other daughter ordered. It came with a healthy helping of roast root vegetables, eggplant, and kale. Shaved parmesan completed the dish.010

    This fantastic lunch for four was reasonably priced. If you ever find yourself in Cleveland, Ohio, Don’t forget to stop by L’Albatros.

    11401 Bellflower Road
    Cleveland, Ohio 44106
    216-971-7880
    http://www.albatrosbrasserie.com/

    I should mention here that L’Albatros is one of Chef Zack Bruell’s restaurants and that wonderful olive oil is his own unfiltered extra virgin olive oil made from California olives.

  • Restaurant Review: Guarino’s Restaurant and Cocktail Lounge

    Sometimes picking a restaurant randomly pays off and sometimes it doesn’t.  On a recent visit to Cleveland, Ohio’s, Little Italy, it didn’t.  Guarino’s Restaurant and Cocktail Lounge, located at 12309 Mayfield Road, was established in 1918. According to their website many of the recipes, including their marinara sauce, date back to the 1940’s. The Victorian style décor was added in the 1960’s, and it doesn’t look like they’ve made many changes since. Dark walls, a dark carpet, and a dark ceiling were all that welcomed us when we entered, unless you want to count the ragged strip of beads by the bar which bumped my head.

    The staff, including an older woman who appeared to be in charge, argued about who was supposed to do what. She greeted us with “Did she (the young woman at the podium outside) send you inside?” instead of “Hello, welcome to Guarino’s.”

    The restaurant was almost empty, with a few people seated on the back patio. M ost people were eating on the street at the Feast of the Assumption, so we didn’t let the sparseness bother us. We were ushered passed the family pictures, to a small table with a shredded white lace tablecloth. They must have gotten a good deal on the things because they not only covered the tables, but holes in the ceiling as well.

    With such a small a la cart menu, you would expect well executed dishes. Sadly, that wasn’t the case.

    We started our meal with a couple of house salads which consisted of simple greens and two thick slices of carrot for garnish. The house dressing, a creamy Italian, was nice but nothing special. My daughter ordered the Caprese salad. It came with three pieces of not quite ripe tomatoes with the equivalent of one slice of mozzarella chopped into chunks and scattered on top. A slight drizzle of olive oil and balsamic vinaigrette decorated it along with fresh chopped parsley, a garnish that insinuated itself on almost every plate. At the peak of tomato season, I found the tomato quality an affront to the senses and the cheese portion miserly.

    For my main course, I ordered Fettuccini Alfredo. The pasta may have been fresh made, but wasn’t cooked fresh to order. The edge pieces not topped with the basic bland and unseasoned white sauce, looked darkened and dry. There may have been some black pepper in there, but not enough to taste. The only other seasoning was a small smattering of chopped parsley dropped on top. After adding spoonfuls of parmesan, which I had to get myself from an empty table, and more pepper, it was palatable.

    My husband’s veal saltimbocca, one of his favorite dishes, was another disappointment. Instead of a stuffed and rolled veal, he received a deep fried piece of meat topped with a thin slice of prosciutto or ham, not sure which, and cheese. The pale brown sauce was flavorless and looked to be thickened with cornstarch. A small pile of pasta accompanied the meat, dressed with more of the bland sauce. Again, the requisite chopped parsley was sprinkled on top.

    The best dish of the meal was my daughter’s ravioli. The three huge homemade ravioli were filled with a nice but flavorless blend of ricotta and mozzarella. The biggest disappointment was the marinara sauce, which tasted like it came from a can. Other than fresh chopped parsley, we couldn’t detect any other seasoning.

    Our friendly but forgetful waitress, not only left our drinks sitting on the bar when we asked for refills, but neglected to serve bread with our meal.  And yes, other tables had baskets, but by the time we noticed, we’d had enough. More disturbing was the length of time she took to return our credit card.

    Over all, we found the meal adequate, but overpriced for what they offer and the décor oppressively outdated. If ever a restaurant could use a makeover, this one is long past its prime. Maybe Robert Irvine will stop by some day and help them out. Until then, I’m steering clear.

  • Memories

    I find it fascinating how different people can remember the same event in different ways. I got a call from my sister the other day right after she read my post titled A Pesach Story. She didn’t recall much of the food we ate at Seder growing up, but this is what she did recollect.

    1. The smell of the apartment building as we entered and walked down the hall from the elevator. My sister thought it smelled like roast chicken, but to me it smelled like chopped liver. And yes, Grandma Dorothy made the best chopped liver.

    2. There was always a small glass of tomato juice at everyone’s place setting. I had forgotten about the tomato juice until she mentioned it.

    3.  Everyone chanted something at one point or another during the Seder, whether it be the blessing over the wine, the four questions, or other prayers. Sometimes it was the same prayer repeated by another family member. Perhaps this is why music is such an integral part of religious ceremony and celebration to me. From my earliest memories music has been a key element. Whether it be the chanting of a prayer or the comfort of family gathered around a piano, singing, happy.

    4.  The Afikoman was broken so each child present had a piece to turn in for a prize. Being the youngest by more than five years, I don’t think I ever realized this.

    5. The smell of the salty air. My grandparent’s apartment was on the beach. We could stand out on their balcony and watch the waves crashing on the sand. I have many fond memories of playing in those waves during the summer while my grandparents watched from the boardwalk.

    Family = Love = Together

  • A Pesach Story

    Recently I was asked to share a favorite Passover story. Dozens of memories flashed through my mind, most of them involving matzo, like the year we went to Seder at my brother’s house and their dog, Bert, stole the Afikoman while we ate dinner. Then there was the time with my husband’s family where the kids hid the Afikoman for the adults. After much searching, a dozen people announced that they had found the hidden matzo and held up napkin wrapped fakes. The looks on the kids’ faces were priceless. Of course my husband loves to tell the story about when his aunt moved and they found an old Afikoman hidden behind a picture. I’m sure many people have stories like that in their family.

    Our engagement was also announced on Passover. Saturday morning we drove from Maryland to NJ and told our parents. After an early Seder (and meal) with my family, we drove to my future husband’s family gathering. Forty people packed the townhouse where he announced “I’d like to introduce my fiancé.” That night we drove back to Maryland. It was a wonderful but exhausting day.

    Even with all these delightful Passover memories, there is one that stands out in my mind and it’s the one I shared. When I close my eyes I can still see it: the little apartment in NY, a piano on the right hand wall near the kitchen, my aunt, uncle, and cousins from my dad’s family. I loved visiting with my cousins and listening to my grandpa chant the prayers in Hebrew. Then the meal would come. I think there may have been pot-roast somewhere on the table, but the plate of steaming sliced tongue was what I reached for every time. Tongue must be a NY/NJ kind of delicacy. It’s hard to find here in Maryland. When I do find it, I’m always reminded of my family, and the occasional sing along with Grandma playing that piano I mentioned.

    Do you have a Passover memory you’d like to share?

  • Under the Hanukah Tree

    Gifts? Who cares about gifts? Christmas activities are what really rock, like piling into the car and driving to my favorite restaurant in New York’s Chinatown. We’d bundle up against the cold and walk to Mott Street, stopping in shops on the way. Each year I’d buy a tiny clay figure of a peasant for my collection. Then it was on to Hunan House for a delicious banquet with our friends. Of course we had soup. Hot and sour or sizzling rice were my favorites followed by pan fried dumplings and spare ribs. The main course varied year to year, but moo shu pork and whole crispy sweet and pungent sea bass were almost always on the menu. Once in a while, if we ordered in advance, we’d get Peking duck as an extra special treat.

    Chinese restaurants aren’t known for their desserts, but Hunan House used to do a fried banana that was out of this world. They’d bring the sizzling pan of glazed bananas to the table and quick drop them in a bowl of ice water. The result was a hot delicious cooked banana surrounded by a sweet hard candy shell. If only I could go back in time. I’ve never found another restaurant that did fried banana’s like that.

    Bananas weren’t always on the menu. If they weren’t, we’d go to the ice cream place around the corner for mango ice cream or to Little Italy down on Mulberry Street for pastries. Not the same, but always delicious.

    Today this tradition has been passed on to the next generation.

    Happy New Year and may all your steam buns be hot.

  • Last Meal

    Regrets? Of course Danny had regrets, most of them about that hamburger he never got to eat. He could still picture it when he closed his eyes. Hot, glistening juices soaked into the sesame topped bun. Perfectly seared meat, elegantly adored with a slice of cheddar and two crisp bacon strips. The scent filled Danny’s nostrils, making his mouth water. Sweet greasy onion rings piled generously on the plate completed the image. It was art, pure and simple. Something Danny didn’t expect to find in a small roadside diner, especially one named ‘Sanitary’. It sounded more like a hospital than a food establishment.

    It had been a long time since that exquisite burger. Before Danny could take his first bite that idiot kid in the next booth had thrown his milkshake across the room. Half frozen chocolate glop contaminated his perfect hamburger. The kid deserved to have his neck broke. So did the parents that were supposed to be watching him. The rest of the patrons and the pretty waitress with the pink stripe in her hair, well… they laughed. The only one I let live was the artist who created that burger.

    Twelve years and multiple trials and appeals later, Danny still longed for that flawless burger. If only they could have found that cook for his last meal. Saliva ran down his throat as they strapped him down and jabbed a needle into his arm. Only the memory remained. Food… perfection… and then, nothing.