Thanksgiving Onslaught

I’ve had a good week to let my stomach recover from Thanksgiving (somewhat–a few of us went back to Prince’s Hot Chicken for round 2 a couple days ago). Out of all the holidays and special occasions, Thanksgiving is my favorite. It’s a food lover’s day. Christmas is for consumerism, Valentine’s is for lovers, St. Patrick’s is for alcoholics who are in denial, Independence Day is for Will Smith, Halloween is for white people, and my birthday is another excuse to get excessively intoxicated. I don’t really care; I just want turkey and gravy in my belly. And yes, I know I can eat that any day, but I need a day dedicated to eating, napping, eating, napping, and repeat.

I started my Thanksgiving day bright and early at 10:30am to pick up the turkey kit from Whole Foods. However, this dinner was not destined to be; my mom dropped a bomb the night before when she told me that we were going to a Chinese church Thanksgiving potluck instead. At the time, I was overcome by devastation. Chinese and Thanksgiving are polar opposites. It took my family over a decade to transition from Thanksgiving hot pots to Thanksgiving turkeys.

Thankfully, there was actually a mix of Western and Chinese fare at the potluck, and I was happy. My stomach, not so much. It was about to burst even before I started on my second plate and way before I started on dessert. On the way out, I also chowed down on some extra chicken wings. I’m a fatty, what can I say?

Side note: I had just finished my exam on the heart, lungs, and reproductive system. As part of the potluck, some members gave speeches on what they were thankful for. One member detailed his story of surviving a heart attack, getting a stent, getting restenosed, and then finally getting bypass surgery. While listening, all that went through my head was the pathology and treatment for each stage of this man’s ordeal. I couldn’t even escape medical school after flying thousands of miles away. Crap.

On Friday, or Thanksgiving Part Deux, I had a respite for lunch when I got some tacos with my friend Viv. It wasn’t really a break for my stomach, though, because I ordered three tacos and a horchata. Dear Stomach, I’m sorry.

Dinner came around, and I was confronted with another feast. At this point in the 48-hour period, I’m not attacking the food anymore; it’s attacking me. I suffered through another glorious Whole Foods Thanksgiving meal, calling it quits midway during my second helping. I couldn’t even entertain the notion of eating Whole Foods’ oh-so-delicious pumpkin pie. It was good food, but I was on the verge of entering food coma oblivion after my second Thanksgiving. I definitely didn’t prepare enough for so many consecutive feasts. It was sorta like “death by schnoo schnoo” on Futurama.

Now that I’m thinking about all this food, though, I’m getting hungry and long to relive it all again. Maybe I’ll be better prepared when Christmas dinners roll around.

Boundry or Making It Rain?

I spent about $60 on one meal at Boundry a couple weeks ago. It may not seem like a lot (or it might, actually, during the current economic situation), but as a student, I can’t roam the town throwing down Benjamins for meals that often. So why did I spend so much money? Was Boundry OMGWTFantastic enough to warrant spending so much on one meal? No, not really. Drinks really add up on the tab. Vodka tonics help numb the pain of bad food and improve the taste of satisfactory food. But now that I look back, I could’ve just taken that $60 and gone to Deja Vu and made it rain dollar bills. It wouldn’t have been as filling, but seeing strippers getting rained on by bills would’ve been equally way more satisfying. (Note: I’m not a pig, I just like giving back to the community).

I’d heard of Boundry through the gastronomic grapevine in the past year or so while living in Nashville, and I live only a couple blocks away, but I’d never eaten there until a couple weeks ago. I had no idea what kind of food they served, and to be honest, I still don’t have a solid idea of their cuisine even after looking over their menu. It could probably be described as American Fusion, or trendy–two things that frankly aren’t on the top of my “To Eat” list. The menu has daily specials, which is an admirable endeavor; I can’t even dress differently every day, let alone think up of new dishes every day. However, they also had tapas, pizzas, and entrees, a confusing mishmash of items and cuisines ranging from Italian to Korean. Hm.

I could now go on a tangent about the qualities of fusion cuisine and pan-anything cuisine. But I won’t.

Anyways, after a vodka tonic and a good look-over, I chose the special fish of the day, whose name now escapes my memory (it’s what lots of drinking and lots of studying does to you). However, before I talk about the fish, I must talk about their complimentary bread and service.

Bread. They always serve bread before meals. This basket came with a variety of glutenous items, such as biscuits, sourdough, etc. Being in such close vicinity to Loveless Cafe–THE biscuit place–I expect Nashville to have some bomb biscuits (moist, buttery, soft). The biscuit I had was none of the aforementioned adjectives. It was the contrary. Biscuit fail.

However, we did enjoy the sourdough bread and the flavored butter. It was just too bad that every time we asked for more sourdough, the busboys/waiters brought out not-sourdough bread. Let’s take a step back and look at this: I ask for sourdough for my friends, and they bring out something else. Now, I know that my restaurant work experience is different than others, but if I was running a restaurant that served a somewhat nice clientele, and charged $30 entrees, I would have a lot of expectations of my employees. Sure, they can describe what’s on the menu, and even memorize what’s in the specials, but can they tell what different ingredients are? I don’t believe our waiter was the perpetrator, but even busboys should know this right? Or maybe I was just too demanding; two vodka tonics (one of which was made with the wrong vodka) could do this to a customer I guess. Eh. Rant mode off.

The fish was pretty good though. I think it was Red Snapper with cherry tomatoes, leeks, and potatoes(?) in a wine sauce. The fish tasted fresh and was cooked to flaky consistency, and all the veggies really mixed well together with the fish and sauce. Then again, I already had two drinks and I was feeling good (in my head). I probably would’ve preferred to try one of their regular entrees, just to see if the place warrants return visits. I can’t really describe more because my brain is muddled from reasons said previously. This positive note is probably a good place to end the post, so let’s just let it end here. Um. Yay?

Boundry

911 20th Ave S

Nashville, TN‎

(615) 321-3043‎

Restaurant Week – The Acorn

Nashville’s first Restaurant Week ended for us with a dinner at The Acorn. The week was lackluster for me, as I was expecting quite a bit from a lot of Nashville’s “original” restaurants (in my opinion, all the original and tasty restaurants are on Nolensville Pike). However, I was glad the week ended on a high note at The Acorn.

Unlike other places I had been to, The Acorn actually had a special menu created for Restaurant Week, although I didn’t think a lot of people were going there specifically for Restaurant Week because we had to ask for their special menus. I’m assuming their regular menu is good enough to attract a steady stream of customers.

Side note: as with Germantown, the lighting was dim so the pictures are extremely blah, but I believe seeing the food is as much a part of the meal as tasting it. (I would never go to those gimmicky blackout restaurants.)

Deviled egg on a bed of frisee and spinach, praline bacon and sweet tea vinaigrette. The description of the dish doesn’t really match up with the presentation, though. The bacon was sweet and crisp, and paired with a simple deviled egg. I popped the entire thing in my mouth to get the full effect: there was a mishmash of crunchy and mushy along with some smokiness and sweetness, and maybe even some eggy goodness. When I try to recall the flavor, the bacon reminds me of hard candy. The sweet tea vinaigrette was subtle, and didn’t really add too much flavor to the salad. It’s a shame this dish isn’t offered on their regular menu. Maybe if I wish hard enough the deviled eggs (or just the bacon) make a comeback sometime.

Pan fried trout, butternut squash confit, brown butter vinaigrette, bacon and walnut crumbs. I couldn’t really point out the flavors of the fish in this dish. I definitely tasted fish (in a good way, not in the old fishy way), but I probably wasn’t able to appreciate this dish in its entirety because I don’t know what brown butter tastes like. The trout had a nicely crisped skin with meat that flaked nicely underneath. Not many places serve fish with skin, so I was pleasantly surprised to find it on the trout. I thought the real winner here, though, was the butternut squash confit. Although a misnomer (confit is made from duck or other meat), this butternut squash tart had a thin and crisp crust with layers of sweet squashy flesh. It made me yearn for fall and the arrival of all things pumpkin-related. Each slice of squash was soft, with hints of sweetness.

Gooey brown butter cake with a sea salt crust and strawberry jam. This cake reminded me of French and Asian desserts, which are made with less sugar, or at least don’t taste like they’ll induce cavities. The cake itself was ok, but I think it was the mix of sea salt, strawberry jam, and whipped cream that gave the dessert its depth. Just like people, it’s not always about the prettiest cakes; it’s ok if the cake was a little dumpy and splotched with whipped cream–the cake had character, and that’s what counts.

I solidified my decision to go to The Acorn the moment I first saw their special menu for Restaurant Week. A lot of places I’ve eaten at play it safe in terms of flavors and ingredients. Let’s face it: Asian fusion isn’t contemporary anymore. Kraft came out with wasabi ranch sauce years ago. Oh, and I don’t care about wasabi mashed potatoes. But sea salt on cake? That’s something you don’t see often in Nashville. And that’s what I was looking for: something original, something I haven’t had before, something that didn’t conform to other trends. My brain had to slow down and savor each individual flavor so it could comprehend what was hitting my tastebuds at each moment. It never occurred to me that I could ever think that deeply. How about that?

The Acorn Restaurant

114 28th Ave N

Nashville, TN

(615) 320-4399‎

Restaurant Week – Germantown Cafe

First off, I have to apologize for the shoddy photos for this post and the next post. What I’ve discovered is that nice restaurants usually have mood lighting at dinner, which is not conducive too food photography. Plus, I have terrible photoshop skills so I won’t be enhancing photos anytime soon. Maybe these places will add some more lighting if they only realized how unappetizing their food looked under low lighting, camera or no camera. And the day they make that change is the day I realize I have clout in the restaurant industry. And it will be awesome.

The Germantown has a lot of hype surrounding it. I think it’s one of the up and coming neighborhoods in Nashville, a result of gentrification, no doubt. It’s quite the quaint neighborhood, home to some notable eateries, such as Monell’s and Germantown Cafe (an apt and original name, of course). I’ve heard a lot about Germantown Cafe, from other blogs and friends and whatnot, so I had some expectations going into dinner. I probably solidified my status as a food nerd when I began researching menus and planning what I would order long before I even decided to eat at a particular restaurant. It’s a matter thats not taken lightly, either: sometimes I would spend a good chunk of time just debating what entree I should get. Even I get embarassed just reading what I just wrote! Geez. Anyway, the restaurant is in a nice neighborhood and has a clear view of the downtown skyline, except for a giant shrub-tree in an empty field that blocks out a good chunk of the skyline.

The restaurant’s restaurant week special consisted of a salad appetizer, an entree, and a dessert for $20.08. The salad really seemed like something they came up with to add as a first dish for restaurant week because it was just a small plate of greens with a vinagrette-based sauce. I felt a little jipped, but the night was still early, and I couldn’t pass judgement yet.

By the way, I do have to mention that our waiter was extremely awkward, or just really dense, or just didn’t know how to wait tables. It may have been a little bit of everything. As for evidence: when he came around to ask our table what we wanted to drink, he started with my friend, who I shall call Pipiyopi, and asked if he wanted wine. Pipiyopi asked he they had tea because he was driving. “Sure, we have passion fruit flavor and Earl Grey.” So my friend picked passion fruit, and then our waiter went into the kitchen, got the tea, and served it. Then went and waited on other tables. None of the other 7 people in our group ever got to order a drink, at least until one of us flagged down another waiter to take our drink orders. The same haphazard, and dare I say incompetent?, service purveyed throughout the evening. If I were keeping score, I’d take a couple points off, but I don’t really care about service. I’m a fat kid: I care about food.

I had heard good things about their plum pork, so I chose that. I’m usually a sucker for pork and porcine dishes, so it was almost a no-brainer. When it came out, my enthusiasm was a little deflated: the dish looked smaller and more basic compared to my friend’s curry salmon with risotto. What I got was four tenderized pork medallions, a couple strands of under-blanched string beans, and mashed potatoes that had the consistency and texture of instant mashed potatoes–you know, the kind that Hollywood uses for snow. So I guess the only thing I can write home about is the pork, but I really wouldn’t write home about that either. They were sizeable, tenderized well enough, and covered in some sort of reduction, I think (it didn’t really taste like plum, or prune for that matter). Each medallion was soft and a little chewy, but I was really expecting slices of pork with texture like pork loin or pork chop, not something that reminded me of a high-end chicken nugget. I think I would’ve been better off ordering another dish, like the curry salmon. And I’d also go during lunch to get better photos!

Dessert was nothing extraordinary. I had cheesecake. It was soft. I liked the crust (crust is usually happy-inducing). But I think the message of this post–besides from asking for better service and lighting–is that I’m not a complete asshole (I swear!). How, you say? I know this post came across as completely scathing. And I don’t doubt that. However, I am willing to go back to give it another try. At least for lunch. From what I gathered after trying other dishes, Germantown Cafe has satisfying, although not groundbreaking, choices that I’d like to eat some other time.

Germantown Cafe

1200 5th Ave N # 100

Nashville, TN

(615) 242-3226‎

Restaurant Week – Jackson’s

The post should’ve been titled “Restaurant Week – Fido’s,” but Fido’s had closed their kitchen at 6pm for the night on the first night of Restaurant Week. It’s not really the way a restaurant would want to start the week, but I guess something bad happened. Or there was really bad planning on Fido’s part. At least there were multiple restaurants on 21st Ave that were participating in Restaurant Week. And because it was there, and partly because I had been told that Jackson’s dinner was different, we decided to get dinner at Jackson’s.

The ongoing deal for the week was $20.08 for a prix fixe meal at all restaurants participating in Restaurant Week. From what I recall, other cities’ restaurant weeks involved special menus and dishes created just for the occassion to showcase the chef’s, and restaurant’s, razzle dazzle. Jackson’s special menu was just a “you pick one of our regular appetizers, one regular entree, and one regular dessert” for $20.08. It didn’t dazzle. But at least I could see how much the special saved me: six dollars. Then again, I don’t think I’d ever buy that much food in one sitting at dinner for just myself.

Now, since the actual dinner was two weeks ago, and my brain has been sufficiently stuffed with medical knowledge, my ability to recall the names of dishes will probably subpar, but I can still describe the dishes. They just won’t sound as eloquent.

I chose shrimp and corn puffs, or hushpuppies, with a sweet chili thai dip as my appetizer. It was mostly puff, a couple kernels of corn, and maybe the essence of shrimp. No real pieces of shrimp really. My friends ordered other dishes so we could get a nice sampling going: beer-cheese dip with bread and chips, grilled chicken quesadillas, and buffalo feathers (fried pieces of shredded chicken). Out of all the dishes, the beer dip was probably the best, mostly because I could actually taste the beer. And since I’m a man now, I grow facial hair, have a deep voice, and love the taste of beer. The quesadillas were a little messy; a product of overstuffage. And the chicken was just another form of fried chicken. It’s all the same to me.

For my entree, I chose barbecued meatloaf with mashed caulliflower and cheese. I didn’t really know what to expect since barbecue and meatloaf seem so opposite to me. What I got was something that looked like mushy spam with grill marks, covered with ketchup. The meatloaf had none of the complexities of its multiple ingredients, but rather tasted like meat. I couldn’t really describe it, but it was very basic. The ketchup had more complexity than the spam meatloaf. The mashed caulliflower was more like mashed potatoes. I couldn’t really taste the cheese, so there wasn’t much incentive to finish this off. The mashed caulliflower at Amerigo is far superior. Besides, at this point, I was getting stuffed.

Dessert was the real reason for coming to Jackson’s for dinner; my friend recommended their cookie dough egg rolls. I was really interested giving it the good ol’ try. It was just too bad that my stomach wasn’t as willing. Fortunately, I was able to force some cookie dough and ice cream down the food tube. It was good, but then again, I never found a problem with cookie dough and ice cream. I don’t know why they decided to fry the cookie dough in an actual wonton skin and not just a log of cookie dough by itself. Fried wonton skins had no place in that dish, and by that time in the meal, no place in my stomach. Much like the pizzookie at BJ’s, it’s good, but I, too, can go to the store and buy ice cream and another baked good and slap them together at home. Then I won’t have to pay 6 dollars. And then I can tell girls I cook!

Also of note: my friend’s $5 milkshake tasted like low-fat milk with syrup. Go to Ben and Jerry’s instead.

Another note: maybe Jackson’s would taste better if there weren’t so many people smoking on the patio.

Jackson’s Bar and Bistro

1800 21st Ave S

Nashville, TN

(615) 385-9968‎

Mimi’s Cafe

I don’t have much to say about Mimi’s Cafe. I don’t want to bash the place too much. This is my third draft of the review, and I don’t want to start over again. There’s some good at Mimi’s (like the carrot bread), but there’s bad at Mimi’s as well (like everything else). Photo note: the lovely shade of brown on all the pictures actually suits the taste of the food.

Let’s start with the carrot bread. Every table gets a basket of bread before a meal that consists of carrot bread and French bread. Let’s ignore French bread because–let’s face it–it’s like comparing a Honda Civic to a Bentley. No one really grabs for the French bread first. The carrot bread is soft, fluffy, nutty, and a little carroty. In fact, I wouldn’t really call it carrot bread because it doesn’t remind me of carrots at all. Actually, I don’t even know if it’s really carrot bread. All I know is that if I ever chance upon Mimi’s again, I would order a side of soup just to get bread, and then leave.

We ordered from their list of menu items that were “the right portion for the right price.” I guess they were copying TGIFriday’s version of Guy Fiere’s revamped menu. It fails because the dishes start out at 10 dollars and none of us could finish half of a dish. It’s probably because there are three servings of from-the-box mashed potatoes on each plate. By the way, we ordered salisbury steak and honey-dijon salmon (I didn’t know mashed potatoes would willingly be paired with salmon). The gravy for the salisbury steak tasted like it was made from powder, and the honey-dijon sauce for the salmon tasted of only honey (mmm…honey and mashed potatoes). We could barely finish half of each dish before we called it quits.

The one topic I do wish to talk about regarding Mimi’s Cafe, though, is its identity. Just what kind of cuisine do they serve? The place screams Cajun and Creole, and I think it even advertises itself as that. When I told my friend, she doubted me, until I pointed a giant sign that had New Orleans, Louisiana, and the fleur-de-lis on it. Yet they had no poboys! The only Cajun and Creole items I remember from the menu were a blackened fish filet and a jambalaya pasta.

Jambalaya. With. Pasta.

The last time I remembered, jambalaya is made with rice. Wikipedia also has no mention of pasta with jambalaya. Now, I know that sometimes I can be pretty picky and traditionalist when it comes to cuisines, but if I go to a place that emphasizes a Cajun and Creole theme, I would like to see more than 1.5 items resembling that cuisine. Actually, I’ll just get the complementary carrot bread next time.

Mimi’s Cafe

7660 N Blackstone Ave

Fresno, CA

(559) 439-2669