FROM THE ROAD

Our weekend in Washington, DC brought an unexpected surprise of the Cherry Blossom Festival...even though the city was veiled in a drizzly rain and grey skies, hordes of people were squashed around The Jefferson Memorial.
We drove on about 1/3 of a mile, where the crowds were spare. These photos are from Franklin Delano's area... we had plenty of room for a long walk in the rain.
The girl with the white umbrella was just standing there, waiting for my camera.

ROAD TRIP

It has been a long, cold, icy winter.
WFS and I have been stuck in the clutches of winter,
stoking our little stove and toiling away.
Time for a SPRING break.
We totally plan on camping somewhere in the mountains of western
Maryland tomorrow evening.
We'll see how brave these two aging souls really are~~~~~
I will keep my postings active as we venture to our nation's capitol and on
to Philly, where the bright shining eyes of our grandson
will make the rain go away!

Serafini

I have always enjoyed breaking the monotony of driving west along I-64 to partake in some gourmet dining, whether it be midway, Lexington, or most recently Frankfort. This city sat in a holding pattern of moderate to below average establishments for as long as i have been alive. there was always Jim's seafood and a few of the higher end chains, but if you wanted a special meal, you left town. well, this does not have to happen anymore. on monday night i ventured down across the railroad tracks, parked in front of the old capital and crossed the street to Serafini, a wonderful bistro with views of that elm tree where the governors were sworn in.


once inside we were immediately shown to our table on the left side of the restaurant. the decor of the prime location has changed, there is now a feel of modern whimsical art in place around the dining area. dogs, cats, and other metal animal sculptures are part of the theme. the plates have become more fun feeling as well. the 3 appetizers we ordered all came plated on bright spring colors and none matched. this is where the whimsy stops- the kitchen had tightened the straps and become much more serious about what they send out of the kitchen. don't get me wrong, the first three times i ate here i liked it. but on this visit i remarked that what was happening here was wonderful for the city of Frankfort, they no longer fill a need, they have become a reason to leave Louisville or Lexington for a really fine meal.


For starters, Jennifer had a house salad that was fresh and the tomatoes looked extremely good for this time of year. Bob had an ice blue salad (an iceburg wedge with blue cheese that seemed to be gorgeous if not a tad bit overpriced at $8). I had the calamari and as the garcon left it in front of me without sauce i almost asked what was up, but told myself i needed to try the dish before i said it needed something else. it did not. cabbage had been shredded and placed atop the fire-battered rings. the cabbage provided just enough cooling effect to the wonderful breading. the calamari was fresh from blue fin in louisville, flown in that morning.


For entrees we each went quite different ways, Bob had a cheeseburger that came with a heavily grilled bun and some hand-cut french fries that he was still raving about the next day- he says you gotta hand cut to get that flavor. The burger had two slices of cheese and was very plump. Jennifer had the lasagna. i had eaten the previous version before, but this one has trumped the last that was good, but not great. this lasagna rang out with flavor as it tickled my taste buds. the ricotta cheese was of very high quality, and the mixture of meat sauce, noodles, and cheese had a very balanced composition. i feel my dish was the best out of all of the tables'. it was an orzo alfredo with shrimp scampi and fried basil leaves. the shrimp were very large and plump, the alfredo perfectly creamy and complex. the pasta very fresh and lent perfect textural pairing to the shrimp. the only problem with this dish is that sierra loved it. i am very happy her palate is ahead of schedule, but i am withering away. she ate most of my shrimp and a lot of the pasta.



our server was very knowledgeable and was happy to be working. the atmosphere was lively, UK was playing Creighton and the bar was quite full. the dining room was also about 1/3 full, not bad for a Monday night. we always make a walk past the harley-davidson clan around the corner when arriving to feel that the capital city might be experiencing a little bit of a revitalization. and serafini is at the forefront of the dining movement. very good ***1/2

Roots, Shoes and Springtime

Last week I started out to work in the garden...I was sitting on a bench pondering shoes and spring and bare feet.
I could not for the life of me remember shoes from my childhood. What would I wear? My immediate answer(in my mind) was no shoes. Bare feet. Spring was ushered in by the arrival of barefoot flowers. Moma would tell us we could shuck our shoes when the barefoot flowers bloomed. The meadows would be adrift in soft, pinkish-blue coverlets of tiny barefoot flowers. The ground was still hard and cold when those blushing little beauties would peep out. It was truly the harbinger of spring. Flurries of activities would commence. We would start burning the tobacco and lettuce beds. We would clean out fencerows, throwing the overgrowth into the burning piles of everything accumulated over winter. A clash of wills would occur most every year between Moma and Uncle DH....He would have his ragged truck bed filled with old tires to throw on the fire...Moma hated the thoughts of burning rubber. It spoiled the lovely rite of spring that cleansed everything unsavory from her long, hard winter. Moma would usually prevail, until, sometime after she left to take us all to bed, then the tires would make the cut and the flames would send black, stinky, sooty smoke across the hills. I am sure this led to a fierce argument the next day, but, Moma never seemed to win in the long run.
As we cleared the fencerows, clogged full of young sassafras trees, Moma would dig a small bucket full of their roots. She would wash the dirt off, get her biggest pot and cover the roots with fresh spring water. She would poke the wood stove up a bit and set the roots to simmer for a few hours. Later, she would set down a small cup for the little kids and bigger cups for bigger kids and normal cups and saucers for she and Daddy. This was a required spring tonic and had to be choked down.... no matter what. The sassafras tea was the color of burnt sienna( my favorite color in the box) and when doused with a few illegal teaspoons of sugar, could be swallowed rather quickly. I never learned to love the taste of sassafras tea. However, many, many years later I asked Mom to boil a pot of sassafras tea. It was an unusually cold late spring day, so we bundled up and grabbed the grubbing hoe, heading toward the back lane, to find some suitable trees. Moma dug the correct amount of roots and we sprinted back to the warm kitchen. She made a pot of the tea and I dumped in the sugar, as I remembered, and to my surprise I absolutely loved the flavor. Moma said, you were so silly, I couldn't get a thing down your throat without you squalling. I suspect that is true. She didn't divulge what happened when I squalled, and for the sake of my reputation, I won't either.

This brings me to shoes. I emailed and asked Dan, what shoes did Moma wear?
I could see Daddy in his brogans, kept perfect with a rub of lard now and again. I could see him pulling on his galoshes, kept on the porch, to wear to the barn or fox hunting.
Moma? I couldn't find a thing on her feet. The thing I do know, she was never keen on going barefoot.
Dan sent back this reply:
She said,
"Just old shoes after they got old."
"I guess I had lace up shoes."
"Whatever was old and wasn't fit to wear anywhere else."

Our mother, ever resourceful, made do.
If there ever was a paean to our mother, a song for her life, this would be it.

Le Relais

Last saturday night i ventured out for an 8 o'clock dinner appointment at Le Relais. We tried a booked solid Jack Fry's to no avail and the classic french cuisine of Anthony Dike was our quick second choice. After a jaunt through the lobby to look at the cool retro-airline photos, we walked in the back door to a semi-bustling scene with smiles on the faces of the diners who were getting their fill of the great food being served. My father had entered slightly before us and we saw him smiling at the table to the right of the front door and went over to join him. sierra sat on the bench seat next to him and jennifer and i faced them in the bistro seats. i had read that they simplified their menu and had dropped their prices accordingly. i was apprehensive that the excellent fare might have been compromised and was anxious to view the new menu.

the list of starters seemed to be a very apt list to satisfy the franc in any one. the list was highlighted by a pork pate that was served with two baby sweet pickles, pickled red onions, and whole grain mustard, along with two crisp wafers. the velvet smooth pate was wrapped with uncooked bacon and the flavor of the pate nary needed any of the accoutrements to send my taste buds into the fourth dimension. This was as good as the best pates i have had in france, switzerland, or anywhere else for that matter. Dad settled into the crabcake appetizer that i had ordered on my previous trip here. i had a bite and although it was prepared perfectly, it did not re-kindle the dazzlement of my memory. this could have been because i was so enamored with my pate. Jennifer had a salad which had nice flavor, although there was not a large amount of creativity in the caesar, i presume the menu was following the m.o. of classic french. the salad was a solid choice. Sierra decided on the mussels after i hyped the "snails" all day. at 3 years old, i was excited she considered the escargots de bourgogne as long as she did, and she always eats what she orders, so i felt fate took a hand as she assured the waiter the mussels were best for her. best is a great word to describe this dish. the 15-20 shellfish were soaking in a white wine shallot sauce and topped with pommes frites. the sauce was so good i swear i would have drank it after she polished off the mussels if a straw had been provided. ok- maybe a little hyperbole there, but maybe not. the fries were 'garlicky' and were excellent for sopping up as much of that great jus as possible. the pissaladiere was a tough choice to pass up, but we had four superb starters nonetheless.

as we were finishing up our first plates, the second ones arrived. perhaps a few minutes of digestion would have been welcomed to savor the dishes, but the kitchen cannot see our progress, and our waiter was perfect in all other matters, so i will not hover on this slight miscue. jennifer and sierra split the salmon with hollondaise sauce. jennifer has become a big fan of salmon in the past year and this dish seemed to satisfy with a meaty excellence. the bed of lentils served as a nice texture enhancer to a fish that can come out dry even when cooked with great care. the portion was ample for the two of them. dad had the special steak covered in a bistro sauce that contained mushrooms and almost had the consistency of a gravy. the medium rare beef was very tender and had enough fat on it to enhance the flavor without being over-powering. i had the coquilles st. jacques which were four plump scallops that were of exteremely high quality. i was saddened to see two of the four had been seared for a minute too long on the one side. the chef knew to only sear one side, but must've been checking on another dish and let that one side stay in the pan too long. i sliced off the underside of the two "fried" scallops and went on enjoying the winter vegetables and mushrooms which provided a wonderful land mix to the fruit of the sea. even with the cooking mistake i was still thinking of this dish on the ride back to shelbyville.

For dessert Jennifer and sierra split the profiteroles. the ice cream was great, but the bourbon sauce seemed to be a bit over the top for my taste buds. i am pretty sure that the regular chocolate sauce was not meant to be improved on when greats like paul bocuse perfected this sweet treat. i had a creme brulee which was on par. i don't know what i was expecting, but the dish just seemed to coast by. i should have taken my father's wisdom to heart and ordered the cheese. 'if the available cheeses are served with care on a beautiful piece of petrified wood, go with the cheese, Ash' he should have said. there were two double cream cows milk versions that were very good, but the semi-hard english cheese and the blue from Australia were the ones that left me feeling like i made the wrong choice. sierra barely let anyone try any of the english cheese as she thought the stick cuts made for excellent swords, and then she ate them. this cheese selection showed an excellent nose as the textures and flavors were well thought out and varied.

well, my apprehensions were expelled after being reassured that Le Relais is at the upper echelon of Louisville dining, as it always has been. the service was top notch, even intuitive enough to inform us that Bobby J is performing on Thursday nights at Volare. He thought Sierra was too cool by ordering all of that "grown-up" food, and she ate that up as quickly as the mussels. the host is top notch and the decor holds a special place in my heart and always will. ambiance should never be overlooked when the experience is what keeps diners coming back, not the food, the service, or the decor seperately- one must mesh all of these into one. and Le Relais does just that. excellent **** (although not as strong of a 4 as last time)

Miami Beach

There are few restaurants in America that deserve the monikor- institution. Galatoire's, The Union Oyster House, and Joes's Stone Crabs are some of those. On my recent trip to South Florida I found myself in the mood to be institutionalized, so i headed across the McArthur causeway to south beach. I navigated the intrepid parking woes and headed in to the newly refurbished (at least for me) dining room. Joe's stone crabs' employees all wear tuxedos, although the dress code for diners has gotten more lax since i was last there. there were diners in shorts, even one in a jersey, but the service turned a blind eye to the garments on their backs, as most were in very nice duds.

we were shown to our table after being greeted by the maitre 'd who made us feel like regulars. we walked past the large rectangular bar which was starting to get bustling, and into a high-ceilinged area with beautiful murals that made the area look like a mediterranean patio. the crisp service had our water filled before we were able to scoot our chairs all the way up to the table. bread and crackers were next, along with some butter that is as good as you can get. (this is still the weakest link in Louisville dining).

for starters, i had a stone crab seviche which was absolutely breathtaking. the succulent meat was accompanied with only a little lime juice and a few diced green peppers. a boutique bottle of tabasco was on the side, and i did try some for kicks, but i needed the untouched taste of sweet stone crab. i am still dreaming about this dish. my dining partners ordered the cracked stone crab claws, large in size and excellent once you got past the labor. there was one of the claws that had the properties of being frozen, possibly a coincidence, and possibly a breach in the freshness guarantee of such an establishment. nonetheless, they were all eaten.

for my entree, i ordered another appetizer- the stuffys- very large clams that were blended with a breading and topped with parmesan cheese and baked until piping hot and served with lemon and more boutique tabasco. theses were so good i was barely able to eat any of the sweet potato fries that were ordered by nearly every table in my viewing range. they were crisp, but lacked the flavor that just makes you scream for more, like i am now for the stuffys. a wedge salad finished off my dining partners' entree and it looked to be as fresh as could be.

as we left i remember thinking how the prior maitre 'd was the the best paid employee in America during the 1980's and early 90's and saying to myself- I see why. the last time i ate at Joe's I was a wee lad and only remembered the 3 hour wait for our table as my little belly growled in dismay. this trip delivered with a prompt table on a beautiful Sunday night, followed by a walk to south beach for the food and wine festival. By the way, the festival too crowded to enjoy. but what a dinner we had at Joe's. **** come on, it's an institution, what did you expect?

AE

APRONS, CAKE FLOUR

Hellebores, garden and aprons in the breeze

A LITTLE STORY ABOUT APRONS

A recent comment about aprons from Katherine Dunn and the photos Cathy and I took of aprons, set my brain spinning about aprons.
Aprons are such an integral part of my being. My very earliest memories are about aprons.

I will start with my grandmother. My Grandma Dutton was the most gentle of souls. She was a fine cook and taught my mother many of her culinary skills, as well as herbal/natural cures. She always wore an apron. As a child, I would cling to her side, waiting for her to move aside her needlework to reach in her apron pocket and give me a stick of candy...the candy box sat near her reach on an old dusty shelf but my piece was in her apron pocket. You see, my other siblings shared the striped candycane but my grandmother saved the solid white piece just for me. Thus, my piece of the stick was always in her apron pocket. Mind you, we all shared pieces of stick candy, never a whole stick.
Maybe Grandma wanted to give me a sense of being a little special. After all, we did share the same name...Sally.

The apron and Moma are so intertwined in my mind, I cannot see Moma as a young mother of five(before Dan) without seeing her apron in my mind's eye. The apron was a tool, a third hand, a basket, and a pocket for almost everything. In her apron pocket could be: nails, a handkerchief, money, safety pins,clothespins etc. Her apron was the handiest tool she had.
Moma used her apron for:
eggs,potatoes,radishes, wild mushrooms, cresses,hickory nuts, walnuts,baby chicks, unfortunate kitties, runt pigs, rocks, kindling,bulbs, tubers, seeds...anything and everything she needed to hold during planting season.
Her apron was also useful for wiping tears away when we were bruised, battered, bashed or broken....but, never, ever, if we were on her bad side. If that be the case, we could wail away and wipe our noses on our arms.....she held no sympathy for naughty children.

I would be remiss if I didn't add to this list of apron memories, my 4-H project. I had to make an apron. This seemed very grown-up to me and I excitedly picked out red checked fabric at the JJ Newberry's store. My little brain had not figured on having to sew this garment. I worked and worked, basting and sewing. The end result was: it seemed futile to work so hard making something when I could just wait around for hand-me-downs. My family has a long love affair with stitching...it did not carry forward with me. Try as I might, I could never get the hang of sewing..I can do it, it would have been a huge disgrace not to sew, however, there was never love in every stitch. Instead there was a growing feeling that should I ever have a choice, I would not sew one single thing. I have stuck with that sentiment steadfastly in my adult life.

I will finish with my career...chef, aprons. Part and parcel of who I am. The tradition of food, love and aprons did take on me.

Caffe Classico

WFS and I just got home from an evening of divine dining. Today we worked in the yard/gardens cleaning up from the winter ice storm. We decided we should go for an easy dinner out. We both agreed on Tommy Mudd's, Caffe Classico. The Miracle Fries( so dubbed by Jaxon) are a completely satisfying dinner all alone...
But I digress.
Let me start at the beginning. We walk into this Clifton Community jewel~~ hellos echo from Kasey, Audrey and Tommy. WFS is promptly brought his wine...no frippery...just done. My drink needs are a little more complex,it is very, very difficult for me to resist a latte~~~~ however, tonight I settled for good old water and lemon.
We ordered Belgian Pomme Frites and Mussels for our first course. These delightful dishes were brought to our table steaming hot and so so so good. We sopped and dipped and ate every single bite.
We ordered the Chicken Roulade for our main course. Here again, we were served a good solid dish with no frippery. The roulades are pinwheels of chicken, pesto and pine nuts. They are served with risotto cakes and fresh asparagus spears. This dish was perfectly cooked and presented.
Here's the nicest thing about Caffe Classico: Families, young lovers, early birds, diverse cultures and late night coffee drinkers all coexist in this space. The second nicest thing is: Ordering one dish to be split is not frowned upon...actually, Tommy thrives on making his guests seem comfortable with their dining decisions...the ultimate nicest thing is: Kasey walking over and handing me a hand written birthday card.
We split a dulce de leche cookie and came home happy happy happy!
Our meal cost 48.50 and I left a 12.00 tip for Kasey...the reason being, it is amongst the best service in town and the value is so good I always feel happy to leave a little extra.
As we stepped into the lovely night air, Tommy called to us, you think you can get away without saying goodnight?
That is the love we need in our neighborhood.

610 Magnolia

As I write this review I am not completely sure one should review a restaurant posed as an impostor. 610 Magnolia is a fine dining establishment with prices, service and atmosphere to match. It's little sister off-shoot is a wine room that serves food as you meet, greet and wine taste... food is mostly nibbles, little bites, cheeses and assorted hors d'oeuvres...this hardly constitutes a meal...but upon occasion, Ed Lee(owner and chef) and his staff feature sit down, communal styled events...Italian, BBQ, and on the eve of my birthday, French Bistro.

Before I commence on my review, I will say this evening was lovingly presented to WFS and I as our joint birthday gift. My mother, the arbiter of good taste, would say, repeatedly, never look a gift horse in the mouth. I shall refrain from opening the horse's mouth but~~~~~~~~

We arrived to a general milling about, tasting small sips of various French wines...seeing old familiar faces and a few new ones. It is nice to share a table with new folks. That was the good part. The appetizer samplings were okay, albeit a bit uninspired. A greasy, small bite, grilled BLT, left my hands too greasy to greet a friend with hand extended...beets, one of my very favorite foods, lacked any flavor at all. How do you do that to a beet?

The main meal was a serious disappointment. It is not possible to serve a dish called Foie Gras when made with unsavory, off tasting chicken livers or am I missing something? The salad course, served family style, was enough for one, to be split between six~~~ Next came Beef Bourguignon, it could have/should have succeeded, but our dish was served with nary a scrap of beef...a few carrots were drifting in what I strongly suspected to be Knorr-Swiss beef gravy. Next came duck confit...don't-even-go- there. The final course before dessert was, Coq au vin. This course fared a bit better, having said that, no self respecting French cook would have allowed this dish anywhere near his/her kitchen.

Dessert: store bought crepes, with winter strawberries and Hershey's( or some pre-made stuff) syrup....
Rule 1. Make the crepes.
Rule 2. Use seasonal fruits..NO winter strawberries
Rule 3. For gods sake, make the chocolate, how hard is that!!!!
Rule 4. Topping a disaster with cream fraiche will not cover up the disaster.

Should this end here? Well, generally speaking, it should. I asked for a cup of coffee. a small cup of tepid coffee was delivered with cream? they asked and I said yes, to cream... When I started to pour the cream I noticed a lightness, a swishing in the cream pitcher. I glanced over to my left and the coffee served to the young lady looked a little muddy...I tipped the cream pitcher and out shot blue john milk! The young lady to my left said, it isn't cream. I said, unacceptable. Could we have cream, I asked the server.
I was told, we have NO cream....then, after a prelude,the server produced something she mixed in the back room to resemble cream.
I shoved the coffee out of sight...
Other then a lively discussion with the young lady to my left...this stands as one of the crazier moments in my dining career.

The moral of the story is:
Never rest on your laurels and never believe that a lovely facility and enormous prices constitute quality.
Never, ever, ever.

KITCHEN COMPLETE

This project brought out the best and the worse in me, my manic must do is a virtue and a curse. But, here 'tis, finished and a very happy place to cook. I am not a 'corner cook", it cramps my style. This new stove, moved from the back wall into the new obvious location, makes me a happy girl.
The induction of this kitchen was the surprise birthday party for Dan, cooking and prepping completed by Ruth Ann, Cathy and I...while Jason installed and re-did the electric for my new pot rack.
Can you say...how, how, how?????????