Aurelio's

    

Are you allowed to call yourself a "Chicago Pizzeria" if you don't serve the "typical deep dish pizza", as the server described it? I don't know. It's a free country so I guess you can call yourself whatever you want, but I was deflated when she said that. Pity, because Aurelio's is quite charming and evocative of old school pizza restaurants.The franchise takes pains to stay true to it's original style, a classic pizzeria from the late 1950s- red-checkered tabletops, chocolate-brown wood, black and white vintage photos of Chicago on the walls.

     We ordered the closest thing to deep dish we could find on the menu, the 'thick crust', with pepperoni, onions and mushrooms on John's side, and anchovies and onions on my side. It was excellent pizza, not excessively greasy, crunchy on the outside, soft on the inside, well-balanced portions of our selected toppings.

     Besides thin crust pizza and stuffed pizza, the menu offers something called "Mamma Aurelio's Calabrese", which is their own special version of a calzone. After my initial disappointment, I was an inch away from ordering it after one look at the over-sized turnover.They also offer generous salads, pasta dishes and sandwiches.

     I have a strong suspicion that if one of these joints popped up in my neighborhood, I would do frequent business there in spite of the absence of deep dish pizza. I was momentarily discouraged, but they quickly regained my respect. Props for that.

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Royal Scoop

I was born too late. I should've been a child of the '40s. Then I could've been a teenager in the '50s and met up with my friends at the local ice cream parlor on Saturday nights. That's ok though, I got to do something like that during my weekend in Naples.
     It appears that Royal Scoop is the regular hangout for the 40-65 crowd on Saturday nights in Bonita Springs, Florida. I heard a man ask his wife, "Is anyone we know inside?" and minutes later a cluster of friends formed, all exchanging lively greetings and just happy to be there. I wanted to join in, I wanted to be their friend. How many years to retirement?
   Benches line the front of this ample shop, and every seat is taken as the gang enjoys the rich ice cream while telling jokes and simply enjoying the company. The selection of flavors is extensive, and I felt like, well, a kid in an ice cream shop. My eyes darted from one flavor to another, from the predictable to the playful. Here's the mess I made: Chocolate Tri-Scrumptious (chocolate ice cream, English walnuts, chocolate chunks and white chocolate chips) with Trick-or-Treat Bag (orange marshmallow ice cream, Kit Kat, Nestle Crunch, Twix, Heath Bar, fudge), on a waffle bowl dipped in chocolate and nuts. Yes folks, I went there, and I feel not one ounce of regret.

     John had a waffle cone with chocolate and vanilla mixed with Heath bar. Ice cream is one of the few edibles that seldom displeases my partner.
     Rich, sweet, creamy and a lot of it- everything good old American ice cream should be.

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Pinchers

Timing is everything. It's stone crab season, Naples is having a festival to celebrate, and I happen to be here to crash this party. This seafood shack is the perfect place to crab-worship. It sits on the Gordon River and it's rustic and busy, and the air is thick with the chatter of hungry patrons. The server greets you while covering your table with butcher paper. When the kitchen lagged a little with our order, our waiter Jonboy (awesome name) brought us some crayons to entertain ourselves, and a spirited game of Hangman ensued. We didn't even feel the delay.
     The menu is varied, but the stone crabs get top billing. You can get the popular crustacean any way you can imagine, and some you probably never fathomed.

The scuttlebutt has it that the crab cheese dip and the crab clusters with the garlic butter and special spices are the favorites at Pinchers. Other items like the crab roll and the crab and corn chowder sounded intriguing, but I opted for the five-ounce crab cake with garlic green beans and coleslaw, and John ordered the crab Alfredo.

     My crab cake was meaty and lumpy, and it came with a tangy stone ground mustard that showcased the freshness of the crab. The coleslaw was satisfying, but the green beans lacked that punch of garlic I expected. Green beans without clever embellishment just occupy space on the plate, as far as I'm concerned. John's pasta was generous, especially the crab portion. He said the dish didn't surprise, but it didn't disappoint.

     In spite of the predictable meal, I got caught up in the crab fest frenzy. It's lovely being in the right place at the right time.

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Doc's Beach House

Every good beach has a joint where sand dwellers can walk up in their dusty bare feet, get a cold brew, a burger and fries and continue their ocean worship virtually uninterrupted. This is such a place. Rent a parasail or a jetski, walk up to get your grub, and return to the warm embrace of the Gulf of Mexico with a simple about-face.
     Doc's was the first stop on our anniversary weekend getaway to Naples in Florida's west coast, our favorite place to hangout these days.We had a sunset dinner cruise booked, so we wanted a no-frills lunch. I ordered the fried Mahi fingers basket with fries and coleslaw, and John ended up with a ham and cheese sandwich because the steak sandwich on their menu was not available. We throw little tantrums when something on the menu is not available.

     My fish fingers were actually quite satisfying, the fries were like hundreds of others I've had, and the coleslaw did not offend. That's the best I can do. John's sandwich, on the other hand, shocked me. It could've easily been a prank. Two slices of white bread, not toasted. The ham kept slipping out because there was no condiment to glue it to the bread. The cheese slices came fresh out of plastic wrappers.
     Listen, I know this is beach food, but if you're going to charge $9 for a ham and cheese sandwich, little details like toasting the bread, adding a little garlic mayo or better even, cheese that does not come individually wrapped is not too much to ask, right?
     I wasn't discouraged, though. I knew better adventures would follow on our mini vacation. This road stop would soon be forgotten.

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Dolce Vita Gelato Café

No matter how many gelato stands open on this side of the pond, speaking strictly from my experience, gelato-making continues to be Italy's best-kept secret. I conclude it must have something to do with their cream. Italian cows are my new spirit animals.

     Dolce Vita in Coconut Grove came highly recommended. The word 'authentic' was used, and that perked up my ears. Alas, it didn't quite meet expectations, and yes, I know, my expectations seem impossibly high.
     Rows upon rows of containers filled with colorful options were displayed with labels that said all the right things- Dulce de Leche chips, Ferrero, chocolate orange, Nocciola, pistaccio. My friend Michele chose the Passion Fruit and Oreo. I picked the Ferrero and the chocolate orange, because you should always have two flavors, never one alone. It's gelato law. It was good. Better than the average ice cream shop offerings, but that dense velvet texture, that rich, full-body flavor was simply not there. Even the surprise strips of candied orange rind in my chocolate couldn't make up for the deficit.

     I will say this: If you've never been to Italy, or if the memory of that gelato has faded, this is a fun and satisfying alternative. However, I am cursed with the vivid memory of rich Italian ice cream, and the hunger to duplicate that experience will have me searching everywhere for that elusive frozen food of the gods until I return to its birthplace.

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Le Bouchon du Grove

I challenge anyone who has traveled to Europe to deny that upon returning, you begin a lifelong search for moments that will in some way take you back to your days on the Continent.This minuscule place in the Coconut Grove area of Miami does an excellent job of replicating the cafés that line the streets of Paris.

     There isn't one inch of Le Bouchon du Grove that is not covered with bottles, pictures, lamps, and knickknacks, and the gap between the tables is so small, a great deal of skill is necessary on the part of the waiters to weave in and out while serving dishes. But the chaos is charmingly French, and had it been a slightly cooler day, sitting under the frame of the French doors right on the sidewalk would have been the perfect European experience.

      My brunch companion that Saturday morning was my friend Michele. She ordered the banana pancakes, and I wanted a rendezvous with my old friend Croque Monsieur. Michele loved her pancakes. I, on the other hand, was stood up. Monsieur never showed. What did arrive was the best French baguette ham and cheese sandwich I've had in my life, but it was definitely missing some Croque Monsieur elements. There was no melted cheese topping and no sweetness in the bread. It was such a good sandwich, though, I didn't miss my Monsieur that much.
     Our waiter was efficient, tall, and handsome, but had an arrogance about him that could only be charming if he had at least pretended to have a French accent. Without that touch, the haughtiness was just off-putting.
     The company you keep during a meal is critical to the overall experience, and my company was excellent. That alone made for a lovely morning. Le Bouchon, however, didn't do its part. It didn't offer the richness I seek in a brunch event. I left with a sense of incompleteness, like I had missed something. We made a quick exit and ran to the gelato café down the street. More on that in the next post.

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Christy's

Confession: When the meal is humdrum, I get writer's burnout. I strain to find the words to at least offer an inspired description. But when the fare is imaginative, I can hardly wait to get home and start writing. Food is the muse for this blog, and for me writing about it can be as satisfying as eating it, if the muse ignites. Today the muse is aroused.
     On this, our last Miami Spice outing of the year, we went classic. Christy's is widely known as the quintessential elegant steakhouse in the city, and now I know why.
For thirty years, this polished restaurant has consistently served the finest steaks and other refined dishes in an atmosphere of gentility and exquisite service.

     When our impeccable waiter offered a lychee martini almost immediately after his initial greeting, I knew it would be a good night. It was a little stronger than I prefer, but heavenly just the same. John had a glass of an acceptable Pinot Noir.

     For the appetizer, we both chose the lobster bisque. Even the name is sexy, isn't it? Bisque. I love saying it. And this one was definitely seductive and savory. If you could eat velvet, this is what it would feel like to your palate.

     For entrees, John chose the Filet Mignon, cooked medium, with 'chips', which were really nickel-sized slices of gently fried potatoes. This steak was so beautiful, I just couldn't take my eyes of it as John slowly cut piece after piece. Seared-in juices dripped through the deep pink middle, and the texture was like nothing I've ever experienced in a steak. It melted in my mouth almost instantly, like a dense mousse.

     I had the Red Snapper in lemon beurre blanc and topped with a tossing of greens, black beans, and roasted corn. Every bite of the generous filet was an experience in rich flavor. The citrus-infused butter sauce enhanced the flavor of the fish and married beautifully with the topping while allowing every element to retain its individuality.

     For dessert, we ordered the Key lime cheesecake and the Four-Nut Brownie. The brownie had a good balance of moist and dense, and any number of nuts is good for me. It came with vanilla ice cream, and although not commensurate with the elegance of the other courses, it punctuated the meal nicely. The cheesecake was a bit of a disappointment. I like the taste of Key lime to be powerful, but the boundary into overwhelming should not be crossed. This dessert had me puckering the whole time. And not to be picky, but the whipped cream wilted right in front of my eyes. Those egg whites never became firm peaks.

     I did a little Math after this lovely meal. John's filet mignon is usually priced around $42. Add roughly $11 for the bisque and another $9 for the dessert. Top that with an extra $9 for the glass of wine and you have a total of $71 for one person. Considering the prix fixe is $39 per person, Miami Spice is a deal you can't beat. Can't wait until next year.

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