Boots in the Oven

Asking a lot of a simple soup

Dear Soup Peddler Matzoh Ball Soup,

I am about to request something huge and difficult from you.  This has been a hard day.  The computer system at work crashed for over an hour, I stepped in dog poo, and some stupid confused young dude from Chase Bank called me about a business certificate application I hadn't made.  (Should I worry about identity theft, I asked? Only if I call you back tomorrow, he replied.)

Also, Logan's been working out of town for ten days now and the cats yowl their lonely displeasure at me whenever it occurs to them that he's gone.  Thanks for the reminder, cats.  Like I hadn't noticed every second of every day.

So, matzoh ball soup, can you make it all better for a little while?  I can offer you some friendly backup in the form of a sprinkling of Erin and Nat's home-grown cilantro and a glass of nero d'avola.  I'm hoping between the three of you, you'll be able to civilize this red-eyed she-beast who bit the head off of her poor suffering husband from 1,400 miles away.

(Sorry, Husbear.  I wish you were here to share a bowl of soup with me.)

Hopefully,

Girlie

Fried Pig's Face at Grange.

Greetings from the Great White North!  

I've successfully made it up Michigan way and am quickly getting a sense of the place. Thanks to all you wonderful dudes and ladies who passed on excellent recommendations for what I should be doing and consuming. 6 meals a day seems reasonable to me.  What? It's colder up here.

As usual, I've been on the hunt for all things local and sustainable.  The movement has lagged a bit in Michigan, but it seems that recently they've throttled up and quite a few folks are making some interesting strides.

It's not quite growing season here yet but cheeses (dairy of all kind really), local meats, great lakes critters and some impressive wines and spirits abound.

Last night I made my way to Grange Kitchen and Bar where Chef Brandon Johns is bringing his slow foodie mentality to downtown Ann Arbor. Since it was just me all by my lonesome I didn't get to try as many dishes as is my normal gluttonous m.o. What I did have though was pretty freaking delicious.

I started with a nice Manhattan.  It's always good to check out a place's cocktails to see how well rounded they are and if they're really paying attention to the details.  Unbalanced, neon drinks sporting odd chunks of canned fruit never bode well for the kitchen.

Grange passed with flying colors. The bourbon and mix of sweet and dry vermouths were well proportioned and the garnish of dried, booze soaked, Michigan cherries was a nice touch.

As I was sipping away, I couldn't pass up a starter listed as fried pig's head, mustard, and sauce gribiche. Hell yes. When it came out though, I was a little disappointed to see that the "head" looked more like a hockey puck than anything temptingly porcine. I feared some sort of midwestern riff on a bad crab cake- lots of bread and binder studded sparingly with tiny meat flecks.

Added delectability after the jump...

So!

A hell of a week!  I got a promotion (yay!) which means I'll be working the 1-10 PM shift until the first week of May (boo!).  Logan received an exciting call asking if he would be interested in managing a film (whee!) in Michigan (huh?) provided he be ready to leave in three days (WTF!?).

After much deliberation and thought and discussion with his lovely and only slightly crazed wife, he agreed.

He'll be scouting Ann Arbor and Grand Rapids for the next week or so, but basically will be staying in Michigan through the end of filming, currently scheduled for August.

Yup, we had three days to get him ready and packed off for about 5 months away from home, with only an occasional weekend trip home.  Holy wow.  This is a great opportunity for him, but I can't say it was fun leaving him at the San Antonio airport this afternoon.  It wasn't.  Even though we got Mexican food before he left, and even though I'm going to plan a trip up there for a weekend in April.  And presumably many weekends to follow.

Well, er... anyone have food recs in Michigan?  This is going to be a wild few months!

Freaking Out with Blinis.

I'm up for an out of state job that I really want and the producers are toying with me.  I can't make any decisions until I get a yes or no answer, so the last few hours have been a huge stomach twisting stress mess. Wee.

In an effort to calm my self down I was reflecting on these badass blinis that I made last weekend.  Nothing says calming like caviar.

This recipe from Gourmet is totally awesome. It's a little complicated but soooo worth it.

The impetuous for this bakery endeavor came from our friends Jackson and Andy who hosted a sweet costumed cocktail and appetizer party.  Basically, you pick a theme and then match your booze, food and clothes.

As is our fabulous nature, Rachel and I went as new wave Russian mobsters sporting Moscow Mules (I added a half oz. of falernum and cut down a bit on the ginger beer) and platters of the aforementioned buckwheat pancakes topped with creme fraiche, american bowfin caviar, salmon row and fresh chives.

That's some fine Ruskie livin' folks.

As a next day bonus I scrambled some duck eggs, fried up some bacon and we relived the whole good time minus the egregious amounts of hair gel.

Now I'm off to chew my nails and drink. Wish me luck.

-Logan

Jezebel. The Restaurant, Not the Biblical Insult.

Eating at Jezebel is like having dinner over at your eccentric uncle’s place. You know, the brash one that can really cook but doesn’t give a crap about the “rules” and happens to have a predilection for erotic art. That’s pretty much chef-owner Parind Vora’s m.o.

You can tell he loves food but you get the sense that he may be a little ADHD. Ingredients that should probably never meet often find themselves snugly sharing a plate - with vastly varying results. Almost every dish sports bright streaks of mango and berry sauces. His menu proudly boasts such odd statements as “our wine list is purposely disorganized to encourage dialogue and discovery” and “it's all about the culinary kismet that can only happen through spontaneity.” Jezebel isn’t so much a restaurant as it is Vora’s own personal little experiment.

We started the evening by having our very French waiter explain that no one would bring us the check unless we asked and no one would take our order until we were ready and no one would interrupt us so just signal for any of the wait staff if we ever needed anything, anything at all. I felt a little like they were going to ask me to strap in and keep my hands inside the cart.

He went on to explain that we could order from the menu OR we could design our own prix fixe experience. Basically, he would interview us and then report back to the chef who would then channel our tastes into a personalized, off-menu, 3-course wonderland. At 75 bucks a pop though, we decided to try some of the classic offerings before jumping in whole-hog.

As we were planning our strategy, a nice hunk of sourdough showed up with a little side plate of oil and vinegar. Some herbaceous baked olives rounded out our fortifying pre-meal snack. With my hunger dulled, I got our waiter’s attention and attempted to order a bottle of Burgundy. Which they were out of. I pointed to my back up bottle. Nope, out of that one too. I guess they were serious about that “purposely disorganized” thing.

Undeterred, Mr. Waiter recommended a significantly pricier alternative. I grumpily agreed since I was really feeling the French pinot vibe. He returned with a lovely ’06 Old Vine Lequin-Colin from Chassagne-Montrachet. And an offer to comp our desserts. Grumpiness abated.

Moments later our first courses appeared- a voul au vents with chicken and smoked rabbit and a ‘ceasar’ with amberjack escabeche and goat cheese.

More delectability after the jump.