Hot Dish Review

Change is good, but it’s good to know some things never change. Often, when restaurants “improve” a recipe, they ruin its integrity. Surin’s beef salad is an old favorite. BH and I used to get it to go while at work, taking a break from the rigors of designing.

Last week I had a craving for it and stopped by Surin on North Highland for an order to go. I always request it without cucumbers and with a side of rice to soak of the spicy juice under the lettuce leaves.

Thin slices of beef are arranged on top of chopped romaine, with red onion, scallions, tomato wedges and cilantro. It is a traditional dish, one of only a few Surin actually makes quite spicy….as good as ever!

The best tacos I have ever had were in Playa del Carmen. Coarsely ground warm yellow corn tortillas wrapped around ridiculously tender chunks of beef. Diced onion, cilantro, and requested white queso (gringo style) topped the beef to which I added a dollop of guacamole that had just been made at our table. Pure heaven. Even a gigantic cucaracha crawling on my arm hardly deterred me from savoring each morsel.

Since that day almost exactly four years ago (I know this because the World Cup was underway on my last visit to Mexico), I have been in search of a taco that could compete. From the tortilla to the beef, there has been, so far, no match.

Shame on me for not having visited every taco stand on Buford Highway, but I can rarely find someone willing to venture there with me, not to mention my own resistance to driving more than ten minutes when tequila or beer may be involved. And how could I eat a taco without the appropriate alcoholic beverage?

Nevertheless, the most authentic rendition of the Playa taco that I have had in a regular Mexican restaurant in Atlanta is at El Torero at Loehmann’s Plaza. Main differences….the beef is tough and I doubt they make their own corn tortillas, which are practically flavorless.

While in Cabo, B and I were determined to find good, cheap street tacos. I had read Gordo Lele’s was great but could not find it. Our cab driver said El Paisa was the best and we found it but they were closed for Siesta!

SOL and hungry, we started back towards the main street when we heard a rumble. It was hundreds of motorcycles! Biker week in Cabo…..awesome. Just then we spotted a rickety make-shift taco stand, specializing in mariscos. I believe it was called Rico’s, but it was hard to determine. No Ingles.

Despite their seafood specialty, I ordered one beef and one chorizo taco. So did B, with the addition of clams. We got two Modelos and waited at a table with a brightly colored plastic tablecloth, with five or six bottles of hot sauce. It was a hot day, probably 95 degrees. The plastic stuck to my legs, sweat ran down my back. This was authentic.

When the server brought the clams to the table, he squeezed lemon on them and they moved….so fresh they were alive! She loved ‘em, I didn’t.

A dish of cilantro, diced onion, and radishes plus a big bowl of salsa verde came out. More beer. Our tacos were double corn tortillas with meat. Nothing else. We loaded ‘em up with the fixins’. Plain, simple.

But the tortillas just didn’t measure up, nor did the fillings. Sure, they were real street tacos but I think there are much better stands in Cabo, it would just require some research in the form of trying them all in person (I’m up for the challenge!)

Until I can do that, however, I’m looking forward to continuing my quest on Buford Highway in the next couple of months! Any suggestions?

My birthday dinner at Woodfire Grill was Thursday night, rescheduled from last week since B was out of town. Sexy Argentinian artist MS and his partner S joined us.

(Sensitive readers beware, this post will be full of cursewords and italics!)

This was my first visit to the restaurant since the interior re-do. We didn’t like it. A place called Woodfire Grill should be warm and cozy.

Our evening got off to a frenetic start as B and I were running late to our already late reservation. Who cares, I looked fabulous in my outfit, entirely from Target! Earrings, necklace, scarf, and dress (OK, it was Anna Sui for Target).

It was my birthday dinner and I wanted a drink! Our server greeted us and explained the menu options available….3 course, 5 course, chef’s choice, vegetarian, pescitarian, with or without wine pairings, or a la carte. TMI. S was allergic to him. He recommended a half bottle of Veuve then ran off. When he finally returned we ordered the champagne to toast my birthday.

Did I mention it was my birthday? Yes, I am the bitch that made a special request for my birthday. I wanted foie gras, damn it! They often have it on the menu at Woodfire, just never when I’m there, so it wasn’t an insane request. It wasn’t like I was asking for filet mignon at McDonald’s.

Also, I was excited to meet Kevin Gillespie. His performance on last season’s Top Chef won him many fans and (I believe) saved the restaurant’s life. I had confirmed with the staff that he would be there, although I knew he was possibly flying out for a special event. He was not there.

But B did confirm they would have foie gras! Fabulous. I didn’t think it was necessary to explain that it should have a sweet accompaniment, like fig and pear compote. Or mascerated berries. Or candied kumquats. Everyone knows that. Everyone! Unfortunately, it was served simply on top of the standard (and might I say inexplicable) grease soaked toast. I’ve never understood why a rich meat like foie gras would be served with greasy toast but it happens more often than not. I would have loved some watercress or frissee, maybe a drizzle of balsamic reduction and a sweet component. I usually toss aside the toast but had nothing else to eat with the foie gras this time (the flavorless smudge of something on the plate was dried so it doesn’t count). On the bright side, it was seared perfectly (although MS prefers his cool in the center).

Quail or duck? I asked our server which had the cripier skin. Neither, they were skinless. What the f*ck, why skin a d*ck? Or grill a quail without skin? Maybe he was trying to deter me from ordering either as it was late and they could have just run out. He recommended the sturgeon to B rather than the quail. I ordered the pork tenderloin. The menu description said it came with roasted root vegetables, Coca-Cola glazed country ham, and sweet potato sauce. This was all true, but the veggies and ham were microscopic. Why mention a dish is served with something if one has to search for it on the plate? The meat was dry dry dry.

B liked her fish. I tried it. No complaints. MS ordered the Maine peekytoe crab salad appetizer as his main. S had it as a starter and it too was microscopic. Big plate, small food. S ordered the black trumpet mushroom risotto as his second course, a really tasty dish. His beef strip loin, however, was the best dish of the trio of entrees at our table. Again, I didn’t see anything on the plate except the meat.

Thankfully, B ordered the brussels sprouts as a side. Roasted with sweet herbs and tossed with a smoked onion vinaigrette. They were amazing! The best in town.

B and I followed our champagne with a glass of red. The boys were having margaritas. We talked about art, we talked about Rio. MS entertained us with his riveting tale of working out on the beach at Ipanema, stumbling upon a tarp that concealed a dead body!

Ah, mortality. Birthday cake. Or, rather, birthday chocolate bread pudding. It should have been orgasmic, like the pork and the foie gras should have been, but again, just didn’t wow me. The best part was the chocolate chip cherry ice cream on top, the scoop no bigger than a walnut. I blew out my candle and made a wish (for more f*cking ice cream!)

I know Kevin Gillespie is kickass. So why am I always disappointed with Woodfire Grill?

1782 Cheshire Bridge Road 404-347-9055

With an evening flight one never knows if dinner will be served. I booked my trip to Rio too late to upgrade so I was resigned to an overnight coach flight. Hense the drinks and stash of pills. Who the hell can sleep sitting bolt upright? After my extravagant meal at One Flew South, I didn’t really care if they served Spam and Twinkies.

So, did I happen to mention that I’m the luckiest bitch in the world? As I boarded the Delta flight I resigned myself to my lot for the next 9.47 hours in seat 24A. But there was someone seated there, he showed me his boarding pass with that assigned seat. Hmmm, baffling. I checked my boarding pass and it said 2F. Score! I had been bumped to first class. I love first class.

I sat next to a guy named J. We were greeted with champagne, about to dine like kings on real food. With real utensils. Along with a noise canceling headset, cozy socks, chapstick, moisturiser and other sundries found in the seat pocket, there is a menu. Passengers are asked to order while still at the gate, sipping champagne. I kicked off my Nikes and relaxed.

I know from experience that you get all of the appetizers, regardless which one you request. No matter, eat a bit of each. J and I ordered and proceeded to love the cream of asparagus soup. However, we were also presented with the cured salmon with seaweed salad and the greek salad of feta cheese, cucumber and olives with balsamic vinaigrette. Ten minutes later, the only thing that remained on my plate were the sliced cucumbers. You all know I hate cucumbers.

There were four entree selections; seared mahi mahi with lemon butter sauce, asparagus and paella rice, three cheese vegetarian spaghetti carbonara, or the grilled fillet of beef bearnaise with mashed redskin potatoes and sauteed green beans for the hot entrees, and roast beef, herbed shrimp with a deviled egg and grilled peppers and artichokes for a chilled choice.

J ordered the fillet which I’ve had before and is truly the best option, however, already laden with pork and still not feelin’ the fish, I opted for the carbonara. It was alright but J’s entree was much more photogenic (see above). He was one of those guys that doesn’t eat veggies so I ate a few of his green beans.

I enjoyed several glasses of the 2008 MontGras Carmenere Reserva from Chile with my meal. Remember….the wine glasses, although made of glass, are tiny, about the size of a tasting glass. J had a Coke.

Dessert offerings are always the same in first class….your choice of cheese and fruit with crackers or a standard ice cream sundae with all the fixin’s. Vanilla with chocolate or strawberry sauce, chopped nuts and whipped cream, garnished with a pirouline cookie. I usually get both but having already had a three course meal I opted for just the cheese and fruit. And more wine.

No sleeping pills required as I fully reclined, covered with my thin comforter and plush pillow. About 6.25 hours later J said “somebody got some sleep!” as I awoke to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and bacon. Breakfast Miss P? Yes, please! Coffee, scrambled eggs (nuked,of course), bacon, and bagel or croissant (I had both), plus French toast. I could have had the oats of honey granola with yogurt or just fruit and bread. I could have had the whole lot had I asked for it. Did I mention that I love first class?

After a riotous week in Rio, a glorious get-away in Gloria, a brief love affair with Leblon, I was (almost) ready to go home. Sure, I’d miss the acai and the frango fritters, the agua de coco and the copious canned cerveja, but it was time to say goodbye to Brazil.

Would I, could I be so lucky on the return flight? 35G. As I made my way to the back of the plane my fate was sealed. Dinner was a choice of chicken or pasta. I chose the chicken served with gnocchi, a tomato-ish sauce, sauteed spinach, a small salad with a packet of Italian dressing and a cracker with cheese spread, and bread and butter. I paired my meal with a can of Miller Lite. A chocolate chip cookie in a wrapper for dessert. Classic.

Breakfast? I slept through it (yes, this time I had to take the sleeping pills and sleep curled up like The Bunny on the seat), however woke just in time to walk to the back of the plane and get the nuked croissant, banana, granola bar, OJ, and a coffee before landing.

I was dreaming of farofa and favelas….monkeys in the rain forest and men wearing yellow feathers in the subway. I was dreaming of Brazil.