Hot Dish Review

Despite the fact that Cancun is Mexico’s answer to Panama City Beach, I was excited to go on the spur of the moment trip when LC invited me for Valentine’s Day.

I love Mexico, especially the Mayan Riviera. The locals are friendly, the weather is hot, and so is the food!

Mexican cuisine is among the most popular in the world, with its vibrant colors and flavors. It appears to be simple, yet encompasses such complex recipes as mole sauce and tamales.

My last visit to Mexico was to Cabo, on the Baja Peninsula. B joined me there in July 2010, where we found plenty of heat….just not on our plates. That region’s cuisine is built around seafood, using milder chilis than the meatier dishes of the Yucatan Peninsula. We feasted on lobster, prawns, and fresh fish with plenty of excellent guacamole.

But I missed the fire of habaneros. Fast forward to this Valentine’s week in Cancun. Ironically, a rare cold front kept temperatures in the 70′s, but that didn’t keep me from putting on a bikini and drinking margaritas by the pool. The Westin Lagunamar’s casual restaurant, Viento, serves simple Mexican fare and Americanized snacks. LC and I had a chance to sample both during our stay.

Viento was our first stop when we arrived as our kickass villa was being prepared. We took in the view of the Caribbean Sea as we ate a light meal of carne asada tacos, guacamole, and chips, which were very thick….good for scooping up the guac, but not my favorite type. Soft corn tortillas wrapped the beef, grilled peppers and onions in real corn flavor. Pure joy! We added appropriately hot hot sauce, salsa fresca, jalapenos, and guacamole to the tacos and washed ‘em down with the first of many margaritas.

A couple of days later, we found ourselves in need of a snack to soak up the excess tequila we had consumed. I ordered fish tacos but neglected to request the corn tortillas, so they came rolled in flour tortillas. LC didn’t have to twist my arm to agree to the fried jalapenos stuffed with cheese and served with fries….totally greasy and completely American.

We ordered a couple more margaritas for dessert then headed back to our villa for a siesta!

Intriguing reviews and rumors surrounded the opening of One Eared Stag, the neighborhood eatery by chef Robert Phalen located in the space that formerly housed Shaun’s….somewhat ironic as it was Doty who mentored the young chef prior to his opening of Holy Taco in East Atlanta.

Stag’s decor is mostly unchanged, save the multiple animal heads adorning the white-washed brick wall opposite the bar.

Atlantans have a hunger for new dining experiences, devouring animal parts once considered trash, like Phalen’s fried shrimp heads at One Eared Stag or his tacos filled with chicken hearts at Holy Taco.

It had been far too long since I broke bread with B. Having just returned from Mexico, the last few days had been a whirlwind of drama and I needed her sympathetic ear….or a valium drip. I wisely chose her ear, and the Stag’s ear.

I had to park a block away and walk in the pouring rain, but once inside, the fragrant aromas emanating from the open kitchen were immediately comforting. We were seated by the front window near the bar where the noise level was high, providing a welcome buffer to my cursing.

B ordered a glass of temperanillo, not the oh so predictable Stag’s Leap, and I stuck with the Guinness that had smoothed out my mood at home earlier. We had an unusually difficult time agreeing on dishes to share from the menu comprised of mostly small plates with a short selection of entrees. In the end, B landed on a dozen oysters to start. Sticking with the seafood theme, she ordered the fish stew as her entree. I would have liked to try Phalen’s foie gras but the accompanying pineapple turned me off, especially with its $21 price tag. Having been informed by our patient server Justin that the short rib was sold out, I opted for the mussels and Brussels.

Turns out breaking bread at One Eared Stag will set you back 50 cents. I can afford it but damn, really? Two kinds of oysters topped with bits of this and foam of that comprised B’s appetizer. I tried one and was unimpressed, however, she enjoyed the remaining eleven.

Quite some time passed before our entrees arrived. Her stew, topped with bright orange roe, was full of shrimp and fish. However, it was so hot that it burned her mouth. Even after twenty minutes, the temperature of the broth was scalding. Nonetheless, she liked the flavor of the tomato-based stew. My disdain for tomatoes with fish remained intact following a taste.

My serving of mussels was substantial, however lacking in broth. Our server requested extra broth which contained whole sprigs of thyme and several dried red hot chili peppers often found in Chinese food….the type they warn “vely hot, do not eat”. Guess what, I always eat ‘em! The broth was otherwise mild, flavored with bacon and leeks…good for dipping the grilled bread.

Brussels sprouts were unfortunately not roasted, but rather steamed, with the addition of bacon providing most of the flavor. Nevertheless, I would like to revisit the Stag, especially in the Spring when the secluded patio out back promises to be lovely.

1029 Edgewood Avenue 404-525-4479

Happy Carnival & Mardi Gras! I am dedicating this post to my dear friend AD, who has (almost) completed her book about her world travels! Rio was her first stop in February 2010, and I was lucky enough to join her:
AD is prepared to travel the world, staying mostly in youth hostels and carrying a light load in her backpack. I, on the other hand, have never stayed at a youth hostel. Gansevoort or The Delano in South Beach is more my speed. But what the hell, I am hostile at times, so I decided to rough it with her in Rio de Janeiro. (Check out her blog, lots of great photos!)

I discovered staying at Cidade Maravilhosa Hostel is the closest thing to camping without a tent. We did have AC, but only from about 8pm to 10am. Believe it or not the bed was comfy….I slept like a baby every night.

Breakfast was provided in a common room with a festively printed plastic tablecloth. Bread, crackers, cheese, ham, coffee were always out as well as various fruits like watermelon, apples, and bananas. There was often a semi-sweet bread, almost like cake, that I would eat a small square of with a traditional Brazilian chocolate goo called brigadeiros, made of condensed milk, cocoa, and sugar. Condensed milk, we discovered is a common ingredient in Brazil.

On the second morning I found the mini baguettes in a basket under the little buns. It became habit for AD and I to steal a couple of them each day, along with apples and bananas for (free) lunch on the go! My best discovery, however, was the panini press. One of the kitchen/cleaning ladies had made a panini that second morning. Too late for me that day but on the third morning I found the press and made a ham and cheese panini with a mini baguette. With coffee, fruit, and a sweet pastry, I had my daily routine, after which me and AD were off on the adventure of the day….Carnival, Ipanema beach, the botanical gardens, Cristo Redentor, the tiled steps and tram at Lapa, the beach at Leblon.

We became scavengers. We rode the subway and the bus. I washed my hair once that week, never put on make-up, and wore only swimsuits and cover-ups every day (dude, it was 95 degrees!). The shower in our room was scalding hot so we showered in our swimsuits on the common deck, the scene of the Fat Tuesday cookout.

Ricardo, who runs the hostel, is a big man. The entire staff was so helpful and welcoming. They invited us to the cookout, just $20 Reals (about ten bucks US) for unlimited steak, sausage, salad, rice, salsa, and caipirinhas. Everyone we met was from a different country. Our roommates, A and S were from New Zealand. T from Australia shared a room with M from Morocco. France, Israel, Germany, England, Denmark….people from all over the world staying together. It was really an incredible experience.

Grilled steaks were cut up and served as appetizers. There was lots of meat, some well-done and tough, others medium rare and tender. I saw the kitchen/cleaning ladies making the salsa downstairs earlier. It was simple Brazilian fare. Authentic.

The best part of the cookout was when Ricardo ran out of limes for caipirinhas. He sent a kid that worked there to get more but the store was out so he bought black grapes instead. Uva caipirinhas! I watched as he crushed the grapes then added condensed milk, sugar, and cachaca to the shaker. I can’t wait to recreate them at home!

It wasn’t a luxury trip, it was an adventure. I wouldn’t change one sweaty, dirty minute! Thanks AD.

As I awoke from my slumber yesterday morning, visions of bacon, eggs, and coffee danced in my head. I have a repetoire of breakfast dishes I make, constantly revolving to escape boredom.

But that morning I had a secret weapon…..the leftover croque monsieur from the night before. I immediately knew what I had to do. The monsieur would become a madame!

In France, the lowly ham ‘n’ cheese has been elevated to an art form. Sauce bechamel, fine European cheeses, ham cured by local butchers, and artisan breads are used to create the rich and decadent croque monsieur.

The addition of an over easy fried egg transforms the sandwich into a croque madame. Get it? Of course you do. I placed the leftover sandwich in a glass casserole and reheated it in the oven. Meanwhile, I cracked an organic egg and heated my skillet.

Four minutes later, voila! I slid the egg on top of the bubbly, cheesy sandwich, and enjoyed every bite.

So There I was, driving towards Brookhaven on a recent Friday night. I would be dining at a restaurant, but unlike most weekend dining experiences, There would be no crowd. In fact, There was no menu.

The establishment’s proprietor BB, who also happens to be a CIA trained chef, had lured me There with the promise of a decadent croque monsieur, a fancy French version of the pedestrian American ham ‘n’ cheese.

Having eaten the rich sandwich at a sidewalk cafe along the Seine in Paris, I knew how a proper croque monsieur was made. The challenge recreating it in the USA is finding the quality ingredients required. Aged gruyere is an everyday grocery item in Europe. Amazing freshly baked breads can be purchased on practically every corner.

BB was left to forage for his ingredients at the nearby Publix. He came up with a round of sourdough, some gruyere, a chunk of pecorino, proscuitto di parma, and ham. For the sauce, he substituted regular milk for the usual heavy cream.

JV, who will be the restaurant’s manager, joined us for the impromptu meal. We chatted about everything from music to meat while BB whisked his sauce. I served myself a Guinness, skipping back and forth between the bar and the kitchen, camera in hand. BB grated a bit of nutmeg over the bubbling skillet. “Bechamel?” I asked. Something like that.

But There was more. BB had made chicken pot pies earlier in the day, popping them in the oven before prepping the croques. They were enormous individual pies, with homemade fresh herb crusts, filled with all the usual goodies. However, just as a croque monsieur is no regular sandwich, his pot pie beared little resemblance to the Swanson’s in every college student’s freezer.

They came out of the industrial size oven sizzling, the rich chicken broth bubbling out of the slits in the crust. While they cooled, BB assembled the sandwiches, topping them with the bechamel and more grated gruyere for good measure. He stuck ‘em in the oven to brown as we dug into our pot pie appetizers, diced carrots, potatoes and tender chunks of chicken mingling nicely with crisp bits of crust.

I served myself another Guinness from behind the bar, awaiting the piece de resistance. Don’t let its size fool you, the croque was a monster, inflicting arterial damage with each bite. It was a serious sandwich, the kind one must eat with a knife and fork.

It was an evening of honest comfort food, with a side of relaxation, peppered with laughter. Tune in tomorrow to read what became of the leftover croque monsieur!

Happy Valentine’s Day dear Hot Dish readers!
My obsession with chocolate covered strawberries began more than fifteen years ago when I received my first box via FedEx on Valentine’s Day….a surprise from my boyfriend (at the time) SS.

They were from Mary of Puddin’ Hill, a confectioner in Texas that double dips them in high quality milk chocolate then ships them priority overnight, packed in a layer of mini marshmallows. Awesome.

Since then, I have received them almost every year, often buying them myself when I was manless (I know, pathetic). This year, however, I decided I would prefer dark chocolate. Puddin’ Hill only offers milk chocolate so I opted for Godiva. LC picked up a dozen enormous long-stemmed beauties!

We devoured them with a bottle of Gloria Ferrer Brut. Simply divine.

See “About Me” photo….that’s where I am and what I’m wearing right now….

Each time B and I ventured out from the resort we passed by O Mole Mio. Ranked #43 in Cabo on tripadvisor.com, there were some good reviews on their tacos. Plus, the place was decked out in Mexican art like ornate silver crosses, colorful pottery, and most prominently, Catrinas, skeleton figurines in a variety of colorful costumes used to decorate homes during the Mexican holiday Dia de los Muertos, or Day of the Dead.

It sounds gruesome but it is, in fact, a time for families to remember those that have passed and honor the spirits of the dead.

I was really hoping to find authentic Mexican food on this trip but it was becoming increasingly evident that most of the establishments, especially on the main street, cater to tourists. O Mole Mio is one of them. Their specialty is mole, the complex Mexican sauce traditionally made with chocolate and spices. Not a fan of mole, I did not succumb to the temptation to order it anyway as I often do (it’s made with chocolate people!).

B and I arrived early and took a table by an open window. Two seconds later she was shopping. Did I mention all of the artwork in the restaurant was for sale? We ordered margaritas and continued shopping, pondering our selections while sipping the salty tart cocktails.

The chips, like everywhere in Cabo, were extra thick, served with the standard pico de gallo and requested habenero salsa. We ordered two fish tacos and one beef to share. Can’t go to Cabo without having fish tacos! Kids with bowls of mini bobble-head animals came to the window as we waited for our food. B and I had already bought several of these by the marina and proceeded to add to our collection.

Our super-friendly server brought out our tacos. Grilled fish was enveloped by soft corn tortillas, a mound of guacamole on the side. Good but not outstanding. The beef was flavorful, but again, the tortillas couldn’t compare to the ones in Playa del Carmen.

B purchased a couple of silver crosses and a hand-painted vase. I found a really cool Madonna made of metal and paper on wood and couldn’t leave without a Catrina dressed in an aqua gown carrying a yellow purse.

Please enjoy my Mexican reruns as LC and I bask in the sun on the beach!
Arriving at Capella Pedregal around 1pm last Thursday, B and I quickly made our way to the swim-up bar in front of one of the resort’s restaurants, Don Manuel’s.

I say quickly, but first we had to assess our 3 bedroom, 3 1/2 bath villa, stocked with groceries I had ordered the day before. Our mayordomo was to make guacamole for us, but alas we did not get a personal assistant. Most impressively, however, the ingredients were placed in our refrigerator…..the exact ingredients I use for my kickass guacamole! Of course, I got the recipe from a Mexican cleaning lady twenty years ago. More on this later…..

The first order of business was a Corona Light with lime. Then we slipped on our bikinis and dipped our toes in one of our 2 balcony infinity pools (yeah, I’m serious).

Finally down at one of the infinity pools, we chose 2 deck chairs near the bar, overlooking the white surf and the turquoise waters of the Pacific. Handsome Latino servers happily decked out our comfy padded loungers with fresh white towels as we gazed momentarily at the blue blue sky.

Now it was time for tequila! And a snack, too. B and I ordered two shots of Herradura with salt and limes plus two margaritas. Chips, salsa, and guacamole started us off. The chips were very thick. I was hoping this was not typical to Cabo San Lucas but as the days wore on, it became evident that it was the standard. As were white corn tortillas that were wrapped around our shrimp tacos rather than the coarse, intensely corn-flavored yellow ones.

The shrimp were plump and fresh, as I would expect sitting ten feet from the ocean, and their guacamole was authentic and chunky. Pico de gallo and a habenero salsa provided some kick.

As did our unexpected second shot of tequila. That kick put me to sleep on the chaise lounge to the sound of the crashing waves and the Latin acoustic guitarist that played poolside as the sun set.

A good start.

Once again, I’m off to Mexico!

Wow! I can’t believe it’s been a week since me and B had dinner at El Farallon in Cabo San Lucas. Its spectacular setting overlooking the ocean along the cliffs of the Pedregal Mountains makes it one of the most romantic destinations I have ever visited. Too bad I wasn’t there with a hot man! Ladies, this is where you want to be when your guy asks you to marry him.

The Baja Peninsula is known for its abundance of fresh seafood. El Farallon brings in the catches of the day from the Pacific and the Sea of Cortez and displays them by the kitchen so diners can make their selections.

Having had enough tequila throughout the day to tranquilize a gang of lucha libres, we switched it up to champagne. Seated near the rocky cliff wall surrounded by the warm glow of candles, the weather was perfect. Then along came CG with a bottle of champagne in hand. He escorted us to see the “boat display” to choose our fish, but we both had lobster tunnelvision.

El Farallon has a set five course menu that begins with chips and guacamole made in a traditional molcajete, chunky and delicious. The next course was mussels in a tomato broth. Both B and I dislike tomato with fish so although the mussels were good, it was not my favorite dish. The guacamole was so good I requested a second helping.


A trio of appetizers were delivered. Seabean salad was rather forgettable (I, in fact, couldn’t remember it). Seabass ceviche was tasty but, again, had tomato in it which I found a little unusual. Crispy fried calamari was the winner of the three.

I don’t remember ever seeing a menu. This is unfortunate because having it in front of me now, I see we could have ordered the mixed grill of fish, which includes a lobster. Then we could have tried lots of different fish, but rather, we ordered two lobsters, each one the size of my head (too much of a good thing?)

For her sides, B chose roasted potatoes and grilled asparagus, which she said were very flavorful. My grilled corn was sweet and salty with a satisfying toothesome quality….amazing. I also tried the cilantro rice merely because it had the word “cilantro” in it. Our lobsters were grilled and succulent served with a selection of sauces. B asked for drawn butter that we both dipped into. One of the sauces, most likely the chile ajo, was good and spicy.

There were two choices for dessert and I believe I chose the arroz con leche, but it never arrived. The bill did, however, with each lobster having a $20 upcharge beyond the $80 prix fixe. Thanks for the heads up, Senor Server.

Despite the misunderstandings and missed desserts, it was still an unforgettable meal, at an unforgettable place.

I’m a food snob, so it will come as no surprise that I try to avoid chains much like I avoid sick people and crying babies. I cringe at the thought of thousands of containers of “product” distributed to restaurants nationwide, containing identicle crab cakes, egg rolls, frozen cheesecakes.

But sometimes dining at a chain is unavoidable, like at a recent business dinner. The location was negotiated based upon accessibility to the interstate (nearly always a bad sign), and its proximity to all guests.

Don’t get me wrong, I love some chains, like the much maligned Krystals and the simple yet delicious Wendy’s. Fast food chains, however, are a necessity of life, filling a literal void on grueling road trips, providing a consistant product whether you’re in New York City or smalltown USA.

Pappadeaux, and other concept chains, are another story. They thrive on tired themes that appeal to (you guessed it) middle America. LC and I pulled up to the huge stand-alone building, its sprawling deck awaiting warmer weather, decorated with copious neon signs lighting the way to a smorgasbord of Cajun and Creole seafood favorites. At least it’s a theme I like.

Jambalaya, etouffee, and gumbo anchor an extensive menu of every kind of seafood, all available fried, broiled, blackened, steamed, or grilled. Several creative, and caloric, specialties caught my attention, like the Texas redfish, grilled with Maine lobster, avocado, sauteed spinach, and roasted tomatoes in a white wine lemon butter sauce. Another paired grilled jumbo scallops and shrimp with mushroom risotto, spinach, and herb butter. That’s what LC ordered for his entree.

The organizer of the dinner had mentioned martinis and lobster earlier in the day and I was having a hard time steering away from either one, but first, I was intent on having something Cajun. So I talked LC into splitting a bowl of Louisiana style seafood gumbo. We requested hot sauce on the side, fully expecting the soup to be pretty mild. And it was….until we added the hot sauce. But the bowl did contain copious amounts of crab meat, shrimp, and oysters, plus a few chunks of tomato and okra.

Everyone was drinking martinis, mine being the only real one, made with Bombay Sapphire. I ordered my lobster grilled but didn’t care for the mashed red potatoes and broccolini sides that came with it, so I switched them for onion rings and spaghetti squash.

There’s a fine line between under and overcooked lobster, and Pappadeaux unfortunately crossed it. My crustacean was a bit chewy, but had a nice grilled flavor. The stringy texture of the spaghetti squash didn’t appeal and my onion rings never showed up….a blessing in disguise. I was hoping they would offer a comp’d dessert to make up for the snafu….and they did!

LC’s dish was tasty, although there was no hint of New Orleans on the plate. Meanwhile, martinis were being delivered to our table at a furious pace, adding fuel to the boisterous banter.

On cue, our patient server brought out the tray of desserts, each one enough to serve four. I chose the bread pudding, of course. A couple of cheesecakes and a chocolate cake joined the fattening fray. Made with apples and raisins and resting in a pool of creme Anglaise, it was not overly sweet. I was pleased with my selection.

Pappadeaux’ menu states that the seafood is fresh, as in not frozen, as in “swimming yesterday”. Not bad for a chain. I bet the place will be crawling with crawfish and Carnival revelers soon!

5635 Jimmy Carter Blvd. 770-849-0600