2015 Kitchen Experiment #3- Monkey Bread

     I'd seen it, I'd seen people's faces light up in its presence, but I had never tried it or knew what it was made of exactly. Then, I found a recipe in a compilation put together by my mother-in-law's ladies' church group, The Merrymakers. This group of Southern belles gathered together all their kitchen secrets and published a beautiful book to raise funds for their church. I've been looking through it the way you look through an old trunk preserved as a time capsule in someone's attic, and it does contain a treasure trove of recipes, from appetizers to desserts and everything in between.
     I looked at the ingredients and the prep time and it seemed innocuous and something I could manage. Simple, inexpensive and oh my! the results.

Ingredients:

3 cans of biscuits
3 cups of sugar
6 teaspoons of cinnamon
2 sticks of butter, melted

Preparation:

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Separate and cut the biscuits in quarters. Mix sugar and cinnamon. Dip each quarter in melted butter and then dredge through sugar and cinnamon mix. Drop them into a greased tube pan. Bake for 30-40 minutes.

I served it with salted caramel ice cream, but even a cup of coffee will do just fine. Enjoy!

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Yard House

130 different varieties of beer course through gargantuan metal veins hanging from the roof. They all lead to a beer estuary, a  keg room at the far wall of the space, dimly lit with foggy red lights and barely visible through opaque glass. These are the most distinctive elements of the decor at Yard House in Coral Gables, Florida.

     The rest consists of oversized wood booths with severe black seating that dramatically contrasts the metal on the roof  and the nebulous keg room. I asked if I could take a picture inside the mysterious chamber, and suddenly troops of servers seemed to mobilize as if I had given a secret code. The manager, a friendly man by the name of Shane, knelt beside me and in furtive tones explained why he couldn't let me in this impenetrable room. He talked about little black boxes with blinking blue strobe lights, all part of a 'proprietary' system to keep the beer pure and sanitary. It all sounded very clandestine, as if I needed security clearance just to hear it all. Basically, I understood "we invented this system, it's classified, and if we tell you anymore, we'll have to kill you." And I don't even drink beer!
     John, however, does like experimenting with hop juice, and this time he chose the Lost Coast Tangerine Wheat which they served with two orange wedges on the side. I guess they're supposed to enhance the tangerine flavor. After squeezing the juice of both wedges, I asked him if he detected the citrus and he said there was "something there." Hmm... I don't know what that means.
     I ordered the sweetest cocktail on the menu, the Malibu Peach, a mixture of rum, vodka, and island punch. I wondered where the 'peach' would come from, but there it was mixed in the punch, the delicate nectar to complete my confection in a martini glass.
     Besides the covert mission adventure, other things made this meal enjoyable. The menu is extensive and varied. John and I picked items from the Snacks and Appetizers sections, and the portions were the most generous I've ever seen for starter dishes.We even had enough to take home! John ordered the sliders, and four chubby sandwiches came with a hill of shoestring fries. This is an appetizer? I ordered the crispy Brussels sprouts and the chicken strips. Now, everyone would eat their veggies if they were always served like this- crispy, tangy, served with roasted potatoes over a malt vinegar aioli. The chicken strips were standard issue and also arrived in the company of a mound of shoestring fries. However, they also came with a captivating maple mustard dipping sauce. Without a doubt, mustard's romance with maple syrup is sweeter and happier than its traditional relationship with honey.
     You can't help feeling content when you're fed so generously even if the dishes aren't spectacular, and contentment leads to dessert. I love when I see a dessert sampler option on the menu because it means I can get a real taste for what that particular kitchen does with sweets. The Mini Trio Sampler included a chocolate soufflé cake, a peach apple cobbler, and a lemon soufflé cake. The lemon cake was the only disappointment. Lemon desserts should go "Bam!" in your mouth with the perfect balance of sweet and citrus.You really had to search deep for any hint of lemon in this version.The chocolate soufflé cake was rich and pillowy. Surprisingly, I thought the headliner was the peach apple cobbler. I don't care much for apple desserts, but this one was luscious in its sweetness, the peach adding an extra layer of flavor, the crunchy sugar of the crumble topping remaining in your mouth as a souvenir.

     Maybe not every dish wows, but the menu contains a little bit of everything, and many offerings, although commonplace in most American fare menus, have whimsical elements that set them apart. No matter what you order, though, you won't go hungry at Yard House.

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The Green Flash

     What is a 'green flash'? It's a rare optical phenomenon that can happen right at the end of a sunset for maybe a second or two when a green spot appears on the rim of the sun. I started with that factoid because it's the first thing I wanted to know when I got the recommendation for this restaurant. That business out of the way, let's get down to the food facts.
    
     The Green Flash is spacious and bright with a lovely dock where boats can glide in for a leisurely lunch or dinner before sailing off once again into the bay. The art on the walls consists of images of beach landscapes and people dressed in elegant beach attire reminiscent of The Great Gatsby.
     We stopped for a quick lunch before heading back home after our Spring Break weekend. John ordered the bacon-wrapped barbecue shrimp with fries. I ordered the Maryland crab cake sandwich with fries and coleslaw. We were warned that John's dish would only include five shrimp, but somehow we were still surprised that it looked so poor. Maybe we thought the shrimp would be bigger. Maybe it was the uninspired fries.
     My Maryland crab cake was generous but on the bland side. Crab meat comes alive with the proper seasoning, and I don't mean hot spices. It came on a simple hamburger bun which made it easier for me to skip the bread altogether. Nothing like unimaginative food to help you watch your intake. The sandwich also came with some of those lackluster fries.
     One notable element was the coleslaw. It was fresh with just the right amount of mayonnaise in the dressing to keep it light. I couldn't detect any ingredients outside of the traditional recipe, and yet this coleslaw had a hint of green apple that made it exceptional. It had to be something in the dressing.
     Our lunch was so mediocre, we weren't even curious about the desserts. It was time to go home.

Traditions On the Beach

Who knew? The best meal of our Spring Break weekend happened right on our backyard, literally. Traditions is on the grounds of the Island Inn, our home during our stay on the west coast of Florida.

     White plantation shutters frame this large space. The wooden tables stand bare, prettified simply by forest green napkins, silver utensils and wine glasses. All seating is arranged in a horseshoe around a dance floor and a piano, so that every table party is equally able to enjoy the lovely standards being performed by the pianist and a female vocalist. If I hadn't been chasing the sunset, Hubby and I would've stayed to dance.
          John added to his beer collection with a Florida Avenue citrus ale and I ordered the Sanibel Sunset, recommended by our server, Josh. John actually verbalized an opinion about his beer. He said he detected the difference in flavor provided by the citrus. This time, my sunset cocktail was divine, and it gave me that happy, gentle buzz. Coupled with one of the most spectacular sunsets I've ever seen right from our balcony, it all made for a sublimely romantic evening.
      For dinner, I had the hazelnut crusted tuna steak with olive Salmoriglio, a Southern Italian condiment made of lemon juice, olive oil, minced garlic, chopped oregano and parsley, salt, and pepper. A citrus sauce and ginger shavings completed the dish. Tuna steaks are traditionally cooked medium rare, which is not my preference. I know the chef must have cringed when I asked for mine to be well done. Our wonderful server, Josh, asked me to trust the process. He promised that he would coerce the chef into cooking the fish as much as his professional ethics would allow without ruining a great piece of fish. It came slightly rare and I loved it. Many times the 'crusted' features get lost in the flavor of the protein and end up being just decoration. This time, every bite of my fish had a lovely hazelnut aftertaste. The ginger shavings served as a flavor booster for the fish. That was a new experience for me.
     John had the Ravioli D'Aragosta di Maine (Maine lobster) in a creamy brandied lobster bisque. He slurped every bit of that bisque and sulked because there wasn't any more.
       Even the dessert menu had several attractive choices. Our server recommended theValhrona lava cake with bourbon vanilla ice cream. Josh was three for three. The whimsical circle of French chocolate cake had a dense but spongy texture and the perfect ganache topping. The ice cream needed a bit more bourbon but even with just a hint, it was the ideal companion to the cake.
     I collect sunsets like others collect seashells. Like the beachcomber, I look for diversity in colors, patterns and shapes. In some ways, it's also the way I approach every new dining experience, always trying new ingredients, new pairings and new flavors. Will I ever get tired of chasing sunsets? How could I when every one is different?

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Bailey's Coffee Bar

It's good to be a Bailey on Florida's Sanibel Island, or at least it was back in 1899 when Frank P. Bailey founded his General Store. Even today, it's the island's favorite place for grocery shopping and morning coffee. We tried it by accident. If you're not familiar, it can look like a neglected strip of stores, except there's constant traffic in and out of the store. I wanted to find a swanky coffee shop, but John convinced me to give their Coffee Bar a try. So glad I listened!
     Turns out Bailey's is more Trader Joe's than country store. The bakery is what inspired me to blog about this deceivingly sleepy place. I got two cookies for breakfast. 'Cookies?' You say. The biggest, moistest, cakiest Black and White cookie I have ever seen, and I've had the best you can find in New York. This one beat them all. My other cookie was a chocolate chunk. Also the size of a saucer, gooey, with chocolate mixed in the dough and so many bubbling boulders of milk chocolate, shards of dark chocolate, and semi-sweet chocolate kisses, you could ask, 'Would you like some cookie with all that chocolate?'
    That's just what we ordered. Every cookie, cake, brownie, muffin, scone, and piece of fudge is made fresh daily, and the selection made me feel greedy and hungry and dangerously close to throwing caution to the wind and binge to the edge of a diabetic coma. Fortunately, my temperate husband was there to keep me away from the overgrown eclairs, the stuffed croissants, the apple crisps that looked like huge gnarled blobs of glazed ecstasy, the lemon bars, the cream horns... I'll stop now.

    The coffee was good too. On my first visit, I was greeted by a poster of a Butterbeer frozen latte inspired by my beloved Harry Potter. No need to look further. It was a big cup of sweet butterscotch fun. On my second visit, I had a moccha latte and I must say, love my Starbucks but didn't miss it at all on this fine spring morning.
     Goes to show you can't judge a coffee shop by it's façade.

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Old Captiva House

Blind Pass Bridge is a magic portal that swiftly transports you from the well-to-do Sanibel Island to the obscenely affluent Captiva Island on Florida's west coast. Sadly, many of its palatial homes stand abandoned this late March weekend because the snowbirds that own them have flown North. What a waste!

      Old Captiva House is a staple of Captiva Island dining located on the grounds of the 'Tween Waters Inn. White linen, bamboo chairs, and European-looking servers succeed in giving this restaurant the Continental air intended. They even have a dress code, although it's not heavily enforced. It definitely caters to the wealthy tourist population that roams these parts. On our way to our table, I eavesdropped on at least two separate conversations in which people were reminiscing about their latest trip to this or that section of Europe. The area is full of Grand Tourists of the 21st century.

     John ordered a beer, but now I think he's just trying to outdo himself at picking the craziest name because neither one of us can remember what it was called. I ordered a Tropical Dream to satisfy my craving for a sweet cocktail. It had mango, pineapple, coconut, orange, even peaches, I think, and yet with all those flavors working for it, I still wasn't drawn to the taste. I don't even remember what type of alcohol was in it. Rum. Yes, that's it, rum! Fruity and pleasant but forgettable.

      The much coveted bread basket arrived and it didn't disappoint. It contained three different varieties of bread, all satisfactory. John was happy with the French baguette which was meaty and moist, as we like it. The honey wheat was also a gracious companion to the olive oil on the table, but top billing must go to their Kalamata bread. The oil heightened the flavor of the olive chunks, and the dough indulgently soaked up the cream sauce in my dish, but even alone, it was addictive with those big, bold pieces of olive that infused the bread with flavor.
     For entrees, John chose the veal porterhouse, and I the shrimp and scallops linguini. John's veal was generous and cooked well. However, it was a letdown for him because he only heard porterhouse when the server offered the specials, and he thought it would be beef. My shrimp and scallops were cooked well and along with the pasta, they were gently folded into a velvety garlic cream sauce.
    Any meal can turn out to be ordinary, but redemption can come in the form of a great dessert, and this one did. We were full to bursting this evening, but still wanted our sweet finale. It had to be something light and refreshing, however. We ordered the Florida Orange Pie and were quite pleased. Each bite had layers of flavor. At first, the orange is sweet and tangy, but the after-taste is sour and piquant, evocative of Key lime pie. A citrus feast for the palate.
     I wished for the first dinner of our Spring Break getaway to be casually elegant and this place fulfilled that wish. Too bad the entrees and drinks fell just short. From the 'glass half full' perspective, I choose to focus on the majestic sunset and the sumptuous dessert.

     
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The Hundred-Foot Journey

     

I'll confess I'm a movie snob and not a fan of the movie-going experience- standing in line, paying $13, and hoping no one tall sits in front of me. In fact, I make a list of the few films that interest me and wait until they're available on Netflix so I can watch them in my PJs while eating Twizzlers and Whoppers.
     This film intrigued me because the hero is the food. Every other character exists to make the hero look good. I'm taking a little detour from writing about my gastronomic adventures to delve into this cinematic character development. It's a departure from the theme of this blog, but I believe I'm justified based on the fact that the film is an ode to food, to cooking it, to eating it, and to adoring it.
    Based on the book of the same title written by Richard C. Morais, the film is the story of an Indian family who lose their restaurant in a fire and move to France to start over. The son, played by Manish Dayal, is a culinary genius, although he calls himself  'a cook'. The family opens the new establishment in a small French town right across (exactly 100 feet) from an exclusive Michelin-star restaurant run by a stiff teacher played artfully by Helen Mirren. Naturally, competition gives way to cooperation and a happy ending for all.
     My intention is not to write a critique of the film, the acting, or the adaptation from the book. What I want to write about is the love story embedded in the movie. The central relationship is a passionate love affair with food. The cooking scenes are visually provocative. The sensual colors, the deliberately dramatic shots of enticing ingredients and rare spices, the Indian music, all intermix to create a seductive mood. People fall in love with each other too in this film, but those relationships are completely secondary to the hot-and-heavy romance everyone has with the food.
     The enchanting sensory experiences are stimulated by the striking presentation of dishes like chicken Korma from Northern India, the classic Boef Bourguignon, Indian lamb stew, Tandoori chicken wings, Omelette aux Fine Herbs, and glazed fish fillet with curry sauce. The preparation of the food also entices with slow-motion egg-cracking and whisking, loving hands kneading and folding accompanied by a score of gentle violins.
    The film starts a little slow and predictable, but then it develops into a surprisingly well-told story with food as the catalyst for love and self-discovery. A finger-licking-good piece of cinema.

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