Monday, May 17, 2010

Be Careful What You Read (or The Search for the Best Burger)

My brother went to New England Culinary Institute and has had an interesting string of jobs:
  • fine dining in Chicago where he got to shop for fresh ingredients and determine what the nightly special would be
  • worked at a Alzheimer's center where he managed his budget so well that he hired another person, bought new stuff for the kitchen AND in a place where the residents were chronically underweight he was praised for making food so good that they actually ate and gained weight (it's a funny world where you  hear "congrats - your residents are getting fatter!!!")
  • wine store manager - my personal favorite since this was in town and I frequently got great tips on wine selections, samples, etc.  I should write about the time I asked the wine store clerk to go to Rome with me...but that's for another day.
At any rate, my brother, Henry, has always been more interested in reading nonfiction while I almost always prefer fiction.  It's one of the many ways we're different.  When he moved Colorado and I was trying to reconnect with him after not really seeing him in years, I asked what his favorite book was at the moment.  As kids we used to read a lot -- it was an easy way to entertain ourselves with all the road trips and on those days where you just weren't up to trying to communicate with the neighbor kids that didn't speak the same language as you.  And I've always felt that what a person reads tells me a lot about them.  Sorta like a horoscope or palm reading for the bibliophile (and just as accurate -- haha).

He gave me a copy of The Best Food Writing for the previous year by Holly Hughes.  I kinda perused the table of contents, saw that it was a collection of articles from various sources, and asked him if he had a recommendation of where to start.  (I rarely read books like that in any sort of conventional order.)  In his typical enigmatic way, he shrugged and said "I thought this was one of the better years, so any place is good."

I'm a fan of hamburgers and fries, so the first article I read was on some author's search for the best burger ever.  This was a terrible idea.  It got me thinking about what I liked and sorta changed my outlook.  No longer was I interested in fast-food burgers -- maybe that's not so bad, but wait.  I kept thinking about the burgers I really liked:  Chili's Ground Peppercorn Burger, Red Robin's Banzai Burger, etc.  The article's author talked about several "high-end restaurant" burgers and what goes into a burger and quality of meat and other ingredients.  I was craving burgers.  I went to Red Robin.  That didn't help.  The next day I went to Chili's.  That didn't help.

The next day I caught up with my brother and told him about the article and that it had me on this odd, insatiable quest for a supreme burger.  He smirked.  Clearly I was highly suggestible and an amateur at what was a occupational hazard for him (as a chef he must read tons of articles on food and preparation).  How is he not like 300lbs?  He's tall (6-foot, plus or minus), thin, with the teeniest hit of a belly.  I found out later that after cooking all day, he's sick of it.  His pantry is stocked with cereal and his frig holds a couple sodas and some milk.  His wife won him over by making him a dinner of macaroni and cheese (presumably from a box) -- she's quite proud of this and I love her for it.

"Maybe just read the next article -- and you'll be onto another quest," quipped Henry.  Brilliant.  Frustrating.  I had the urge to stand on his feet and pull his hair again like I did when we were kids.  Except he's a lot taller than me now and that probably wasn't the way to get to know him again.

It didn't work, by the way.  I'm still looking for great burgers.  Which is why when I saw (via facebook) a list of the restaurants that are in some local Denver burger contest later this year, those restaurants moved to the top of my dining out adventures list.

The first one we tried was Argyll.  It's a "gastropub".  ...? I had to look that up -- basically it seems to me that it's pub food "kicked up a notch" as Emeril would say.  It seemed like a Scottish pub in my completely inexpert opinion -- on the lower level of a small shopping block, dark, a little noisy, bottles of wine on the wall (I'm always tempted to order one just to see the guy take it off the wall), our waiter was wearing a plaid newsboy hat, there was a framed kilt next to our table... 


Here's what I was after -- and why Argyll made it to the top of my list in my current burger quest.

The Argyll Burger Ground Lamb and Beef Patty on a Potato Bun w/ Harssa Aioli & Hand Cut Fries. Optional toppers:  avocado, fried egg, bacon, Cheeses:  English Cheddar, Stilton Bleu, Gruyere, Haystack Goat

When I ordered their signature burger, I said to the waiter "I'm having trouble deciding if I should get cheese on it -- what do you recommend? Cheddar?"  The waiter said, "Whoa! Let me stop you right there.  Since you can get a fried egg, bacon and goat cheese on it, most people do that -- it's like having 5 animals at once!"

Holy cow.

I didn't do it; I'm not that brave.  It was a great burger though.  But I can't say it's the best -- I have 9 more restaurants to try first -- but the bar is set pretty high now!


------
Postscript -- to complete the dinner review, here's the rest of what we tried:

Olives Olives Marinated w/ Pepper Flakes, Anise and Orange Zest served with Feta and Garlic Confit
Fried Oysters 3 Fried Oysters w/ Horseradish, Ginger, Pickled Apples, Fennel & Watercress
Shephard’s Pie Layers of Stewed Lamb & Beef w/ Vegetables, Topped w/ Mashed Potatoes & Herbed Horseradish Croutons
Lemon Tart topped with blackberries and fried basil


The Olives were interesting -- temperature warm and a teeny bit spicy from the pepper flakes.  I like the Fried Oysters -- except that the fennel stayed with me throughout the entire meal (and even later!).  Iggy loved the Shephard's Pie (that's the spelling copied and pasted from their web site...not mine...maybe it's the Scottish spelling or maybe my spell checker is on the fritz) and he is going to try making it at home (yay!).  The only down side was being so full -- even an hour later when we got home I still felt really full.

 This was the only non-Scottish or non-food-themed thing I saw while there.  Is there a link between Scotland and Japan that I missed?

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

Jackson thinks I'm a Drama Queen


A friend of mine once told me a joke about "my dog must think I'm the greatest hunter since I come home from the store with chicken, pork, beef -- all at once and in only an hour or so."

I've always figured that this was basically true.

And if not, it's really fun to imagine how your dog sees the world without all the silly logic and convention that humans have. In fact, my new friend, Jackson, thinks I am the oddest, most unpredictable drama queen he's ever met. Can't you see the quizzical "what is your deal?" look in his eyes in this picture? Here's my best approximation of what he thinks about our relationship:

You know, it's an honor where I come from if someone sticks their nose in your crotch/butt. I don't know why you get all bent out of shape about this.

Or about mud. I don't yell at you or grab your feet and wipe between the toes when you come in from outside. If it's such a big deal, maybe you should invest in chocolate-brown carpet. I don't see any reason that you can't just leave the door to the back yard open all day. (I won't mind if you close it when it's time for bed.)

It's the neighbor dogs that bark. I just stand by the fence with my blinky ball in my mouth and wonder what their deal is. Ok, sometimes I do growl at them -- but it's only because they make no sense. Who cares if there's a fence there? I only bark at the mailman, the UPS guy, the FedEx lady, the snotty dog that gets to walk on my yard every day and people that don't belong on my block! Granted I'd be happier if most people would choose to use a different sidewalk for walking, but is that so much to ask?

Oh, and I bark at Iggy when he coughs or sneezes because I really don't think those things are healthy. We need to keep him in the pack because he is the best hunter in all the land -- you should see the stash he comes home with every day! Although he seems to not be able to find rawhides as often as he should given his obvious hunting prowess...it's really odd.

Speaking of food, why do you think I want to eat the same food every day? You have something different 3 or 4 or 5 times a day!!! Would it kill you to put some some gravy on my kibble?

If I lay down when I sit by the table at dinner, then I can't really see if you're going to drop something. It's better if I sit next to you and watch closely. Then I can clean up your precious carpet before that food gets ground in there and makes a stain. (I would do this for you, out of the goodness of my heart, even if you got that chocolate-brown carpet.)

I would like to eat that dumb cat that keeps walking on the backyard fence. Ooh! Who does she think she is? Grrrrrr!

I like your pillow and the soft blanket for the same reason you do -- they're comfy. And really, I have been sleeping on that side of the people-bed for a few years now and no one's ever had a problem with it. I like the floor-bed-thingy you got me -- thanks. Now I have one more place to nap during the day. Sometimes it's hard to give all the spots equal time, but the floor-bed-thingy is not a replacement for the couch or the people-bed. And I've even added your office to the list of places to sleep. You should be honored! We can talk about your role in dispensing treats in between naps later -- you need some work on this part of your duties. I am *always* willing to go on a walk (despite your frequent, superfluous sit commands at every single, friggin' street) or car ride with you -- even at 6a.m. in the snow.

Which reminds me -- when I have my nose out the car window and am gulping air, then farting is an expression of joy. Don't knock it. And don't stop. It's hard to keep my balance with your crazy braking habits. Plus it turns off the breeze I was so enjoying.

The blinky ball is mine. Stop trying to take it away. I will allow you to play tug with it, but I do not want to "drop it". That's why I am chewing on it. Duh.

No, I don't want a bath. I don't mind licking myself. You're just jealous that you're not that flexible.

I like socks. Worn ones are better. Just because I carry them around the house doesn't mean you can blame me for the ones you've clearly misplaced in the dryer -- I only take "clean" ones when there's no other ones available.

I don't understand why you sit in the corner all day or why when you're clearly not enjoying talking to the phone you won't just put it down and let me out. I whine to remind you that you're being unreasonable about this. Really you should consider not talking on the phone. It just pisses you off. Sometimes I tolerate your frequent "work breaks" to rub my back or belly. But mostly I like those -- keep that up.

Anywho-o-o-o...time to go nap in the sunbeam on the couch. Catch ya later.