Swine Southern Table & Bar

     With a name like 'Swine', you can only conclude that the cooks are arrogantly sure of their menu, and those who come to try it must be boldly intrigued, as I was on this crisp Valentine's Day. The space is long and tall. We sat on the balcony with a bird's eye view of the ground level and its dramatic stone wall and floor-to-ceiling recessed display of wine bottles and firewood logs.

      The atmosphere is a well-balanced combination of sleek and trendy with a strong hint of rustic aided by the blues and rockabilly music playing.
     John added a Turbodog to his collection of bizarre beers. My drink was called "Cherry Walnut Cobbler" so I expected dessert in a glass, but what's in a name? The ingredients sounded promising- Bourbon, Drambuie, walnut liqueur, cherry vanilla bitters and smoked pecans, but the bitters were so overwhelming, I couldn't get past the first sip to find the other flavors. The second act was much better. I replaced the Cobbler with the "Blackberry Bourbon Smash", an effervescent mix of Bourbon, fresh blackberries, lemon, mint and soda, served in my favorite drinking glass, the mason jar. Sweet Country happiness!
     A basket of plump buttermilk biscuits were delivered as a starter accompanied by maple whipped butter and a little jar of rich, powerful blackberry jam, my new favorite. I could've settled right there with this basket and my mason jar and called it a day. The biscuits were big, but every bite quickly melted in my mouth and all that lingered was the strong addictive sweetness of the blackberry jam, which left me begging for another bite of warm biscuit, and another, and another... The appearance of the waiter at our table with our brunch entrees broke the spell, and I prudently released the basket I  held hostage.

     For brunch entrees, we ordered the Pulled Pork & Eggs and the Brisket Steak & Eggs. The pork was sweet and tender, and the egg yolks spilled silky and warm over a bed of stone ground grits. It came with a small cast iron skillet of Brussel sprouts with chunks of green apple, everybody sauteed in a tangy and rich bacon vinaigrette. Southern comfort at its best.
     My opinion is that the brisket must have been cooking for at least a week by the way it surrendered to the fork with the slightest touch. John chose to have his organic eggs scrambled, and the dish came with a hash brown casserole with cheese and bacon that I found hearty and flavorful.
     Something called a Warm Sticky Icky Bun kept distracting me when I was reading the menu. Try as I might, I couldn't keep my eyes off it. "Maple-bourbon toffee syrup and sweet potato pie ice cream" are words that will not be ignored. But alas, I made a fatal mistake- I wore tight jeans and after my pork and eggs, a biscuit and my jar of liquid joy, there wasn't an inch left to fill. I reluctantly abstained from the sticky bun. That's a mistake I will only make once.

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Centolire Trattoria Italiana

It's a bittersweet circumstance when you visit a restaurant and part of the experience is redolent of past delights and the rest is simply average. At Centolire, authentic imported Italian waiters welcome you with a warm and hearty 'Buona sera!' On this particular evening, one was from Puglia, one from Napoli, and the chef from Rome. I actually had an opportunity to practice my emergent Italian, and felt pangs of nostalgia remembering my honeymoon in that magical land.
    

     The restaurant is so small, we circled the block and went right by it twice before we caught a glimpse of a chalkboard on the sidewalk with the name on it. The interior is cozy and elegantly simple- dark wood, white walls and linens, black and white photography on the walls.
     John ordered the Bistecca Pizzaiola, and I had the lobster ravioli in pink sauce.
The Pizzaiola was flavorful but not plentiful and surprisingly, it did not come with a side of pasta, which didn't give the dish that  generous and satisfying look we've become accustomed to getting from traditional Italian eateries. The ravioli were tasty, the lobster mild and pleasant, but they weren't memorable. Neither dish helped perpetuate that wistful feeling that washed over me when I first arrived.
     We were intrigued by the Nutella ravioli on the dessert menu. They were quite good and adequately stuffed with that chocolatey, hazelnutty (new word) food of the gods, but we expected them to be doughy and warm, and to release their contents with just a bite. Instead, their texture was more like a crunchy cookie that had to be shattered to get to the goodness inside.
 
     I so wanted to love this place! I kept hoping to find at least one element that would make it special because I was so enamored of the waiters and how they did give the atmosphere a proper Italian flair. But in the end I couldn't find anything outstanding that would make me go out of my way to return. I'll have to find somewhere else to practice my Italian. 'Ciao, amici!'

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2015 Kitchen Experiment #2 - Coconut Bread Pudding

      I'm tired of throwing away stale bread. I don't want to make croutons with it because I don't use them that much, but I've heard in many circles that bread pudding is the way to go. What stopped me in the past is that it seemed hard to make, so this time I did my due diligence and researched an easy way to recycle the loaf of Cuban bread that laid abandoned on my kitchen counter.
     A quart and a half of milk, a bag of flaked coconut, a cup and a half of sugar and a little almond extract later, I had an enormous bread pudding with a mild but comforting flavor, an airy dough and a lot of warm coconut. I extended the experiment by producing two toppings- a Limoncello whipped cream and a caramel rum sauce. The whipped cream was good enough to eat by itself, but it married beautifully with the coconut in the pudding. What I couldn't predict was how that caramel rum sauce would turn the bread pudding into an A-list star.
     I fought for my cause and accomplished my task: I saved the bread!

 

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BLT Prime

On Christmas day, John and I usually get all decked out and have our traditional brunch in Miami Beach. This year, we had to modify our plans. After a Christmas Eve dinner party and a candlelight church service, sleeping in was just a given, and by the time we were done unwrapping presents and playing with our new toys, the brunch window at our favorite place had closed. Nothing left to do but venture into uncharted territory.
     Upscale restaurants are adopting the practice of offering a prix fixe menu for those of us without upscale paychecks who enjoy the pleasures of fine dining. BLT is such a place and, spoiler alert, this meal was a very nice cap to an already blessed Christmas. They start you off with a small plate of amuse-bouche-sized crustinis with chicken liver paté. If you're mildly hungry when you arrive, this delicate prologue will rev up your appetite.

     But they don't stop the teasing there. The paté is followed by their signature Gruyere cheese popovers served with whipped unsalted butter and a shaker of sea salt. These are crispy balloons that exude fragrant steam when you puncture them. Inside, the dough is mixed with the cheese in such a way that you can't tell where one ends and the other begins. Apparently BLT is so proud of these, they come to the table with the recipe printed on a signature card.
     For our first course, we both had the butternut squash bisque with spiced cream and pumpkin seeds. Spicy is usually a deal-breaker for me, but this time I caved. It was thick, luxurious, velvety and addictive. It was hard to make the expected polite pauses between spoonfuls.
     For the main course, John ordered the Tomahawk ribeye cooked medium with a fun sweet potato allumette  (shoestring cut). The steak was a show-stopper. It actually does look like a weapon... or a dinosaur limb.

     It was cooked slightly under medium but it was tender and caressed by a salty, cherry-infused 'jus' that enhanced the natural meat flavor. Coupled with a Victory Prima Pilsner brew, it was what some would call 'a man's meal'.
     I had the roasted Delmonico with bone marrow chimichurri and roasted rainbow carrots. My steak
was not as tender as the Tomahawk and also slightly under medium but well-flavored. The mixed-in bone marrow made the chimichurri earthy and robust, a fine companion to such a respectable cut of beef.
     We tried both dessert options, the Buche de Noel with eggnog ice cream, and the caramel pecan tart with brown butter ice cream and Bourbon sauce. The Buche was notably second rate and the eggnog ice cream a blunt disappointment. The flavors couldn't have been further from the expected. It was a beauty though, bedazzled with gold-covered pecans.

   The caramel tart was much more satisfying, and the brown butter ice cream kept the promise in its name. All elements combined into a lovely package, and the Bourbon was the perfect ribbon to tie it all together.
     Generally speaking, I enjoyed discovering this restaurant which is located in a splendid setting, Miami's Trump National golf resort. I strolled down the sweeping marble hallways, gazed upon the rolling greens from the classic colonnade-lined porticos, breathed in the rarefied air of affluence in the wrap-around terraces evocative of those on Mediterranean villas.
     The only cloud over the radiant landscape of this evening was a misunderstanding in the reading of the prix fixe menu. It lists the Tomahawk ribeye as one of the three main course options. However, when our bill came, there was a substantial surcharge for the choice. Nowhere on that menu is this surcharge clarified, at least not that we could see. We're big fans of the prix fixe menu whenever it's offered, but in the future we will be more careful and ask more questions.  Lesson learned.

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2015 Kitchen Experiment #1 - Pane Tostato Italiano

     Do people still get fruitcakes for Christmas? I haven't received one in a long time, but I remain hopeful. Where others look at them as doorstops or sandbags for severe rain events, I see an opportunity for brunch greatness. I gave this experiment an Italian name because fruitcakes remind me of panettoni, and 'Italian French toast' sounds geographically confusing.
    
     Other than the fruitcake, the ingredients and preparation are the same as for any other form of French toast, but when placed in the griddle, the heat releases the fragrance and sugar of the raisins and other miscellaneous fruit, and the result is a tender, tangy yet sweet slab of bread. Butter is optional but not necessary, believe me. I chose to serve it with roasted pecan syrup. I'm still smacking my lips as I write!

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Red Robin

Yes, I must be the last person in the free world that had never tried Red Robin, but burger snobs like me often overlook the obvious, plus until recently, there wasn't one conveniently located. John said it would be like Fuddruckers, and that was a good enough endorsement for me.

     The mood is that of a happy '50s diner with a bar- lots of kiddie birthday parties going on, cheerful servers, neon signs, cooks hustling in the open kitchen.
Hubby ordered the Smoke & Pepper, which   they call their finest. The black pepper bacon was cooked the way he likes it- not too limp, not too crispy. This burger promised a smoky flavor but failed to deliver. "I ordered the best, but I wasn't impressed." From the poet laureate of the meat world.
     I ordered the Guacamole Burger but switched the Swiss cheese for blue cheese. This burger really tried hard to be good and it had potential, but it was missing the pink interior of a medium-cooked patty, and even more noticeably, the guacamole.  There was a schmear of it on one side of the bun, but I looked through the burger several times to make sure I hadn't somehow misplaced it. I shouldn't have to do that, right?  If the name includes the word 'guacamole', then the avocado flavor and texture should rise to meet me. We both ordered the steak fries and found them stale and disappointing.
     I won't say it was the worst burger I ever had, but this snob needs more.

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Ankarr Restaurant & Pastry Shop

    Since its inception seven years ago, I've been driving by Ankarr curious to try it after many recommendations. The visit did not live up to my high expectations.

     To begin with, they call themselves a "European deli". Hmm... I'm not sure I totally got that vibe. Some menu items gave a hint of European influence, but the majority of what I saw was more on the Cuban side. There were some omelettes, Spanish dishes and a significant presence of Spanish chorizo as well as a couple of quiches and one or two Italian and French pastries, but nothing you wouldn't find in any fine bakery.

     Somehow it all lacked a true Mediterranean flavor. I did appreciate the fresh-squeezed orange juice. That was worth some points.
     We ordered the chorizo omelette, the chorizo empanada and a Napoleon to share for dessert. The omelette was very generous and flavorful even if on the dry side. The empanada was ordinary and the Napoleon just fetched a 'so what?' John called it a rectangular cream pie.
      Now for the service. Two omelettes were delivered to our table, and when I politely pointed out that I had ordered an empanada, the server proceeded to blame me for not indicating properly at the display case when ordering. I guess here the customer is NOT always right. In her defense, if there is any, there doesn't seem to be a clear division of labor among the staff. The same people that take your order, serve it and clean empty tables, all at the same time, which translates into inordinately long wait times to order, to be served and to pay.
     I can sum up the experience in one word: pedestrian.

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