poshpeckish

friends, i ate at roast last week and it was very mixed. the food was "meaty" in that Symon way and solid, especially a warm spinach salad with chopped pig ear, but the atmosphere put me off. i LOATHE seeing people sitting at a bar before a proper dinner drinking lurid cocktails more appropriate to a vulgar lounge for suburban swingers. ugh. the renovation of the Book Cadillac is impressive if a bit cold. i could do without the rappers and their entourages in the mezzanine bar as well but it is detroit after all. my favorite is still tribute. you want meat? they've got meat. rick travis is a genius chef who uses the best of michigan produce and flesh to create honest cuisine that impresses without trying too hard. shame you have to drive all the way out to the suburbs. if only tribute had relocated to the book cadillac, who knows what could be.

mon jin lau does what it does because it get away with it. that whole "nu-asian" thing is so tired and so weak that i can't believe people still fall for it. hong hua is even more of a stitch up. frankly, i'd rather eat the shin-shin in windsor. but let's cut the crap. whatever happened to raymond wong? wong's eatery was the best chinese restaurant detroit/windsor ever had. the food was dynamite and bona fide. the best restaurant in detroit right now is tribute. rich travis is cooking better than don yamauchi, better than even takashi yagahashi. travis' food has a solid bass end; unbelievable deep flavors, michigan flavors, without a lot of fussy, faddish preparations.

friends, i had an unbelievable sandwich yesterday at Pi, formerly Caffe Milano, out on Northwestern Highway. It's the same Roasted Pork sandwich that you can get at Il Posto (not exactly as i reveal below) but here the portion of succulent brick oven smoked pork is much better. the tomatoes were unbelievably ripe - even in march, no less. and the organic greens were impressively fresh as well. the ciabatta bread was in perfect proportion to the interior and gained a bit of smoke itself from a toasting in the brick oven. phenomenal. the sad thing is that you must ask for this preparation otherwise the management will desecrate it swiss cheese and dijonnaise. i kid you not. and this is the key problem with pi. all the elements for a dynamite restaurant are there but it can't decide if it's going to be lunkhead sports bar, black swinger's lounge or a solid southern european bistro. monday nights pizzas under six bucks! i had an italian sausage and red onion one last week that blows anything that you get anywhere in the metro area, including tomatoes apizza. check it out. who knows how long this place will last before it's turned into something else.

friends, i don't get it. hour magazine has chosen mon jin lau as its restaurant of the year. how can this be. the place has nice decor, groovy atmosphere and its fair share swingers and shapely golddiggers. but the food? get serious. i ordered moo shu chicken one night and they sent out tortillas! i told the waitress i wanted proper pancakes. she gave me a dragon lady sigh and headed back to the kitchen five minutes later, a guy who looked like a rabbi turned hugh hefner emerged and sauntered over to the table to tell me that tortillas was all they had and they were very good tortillas. dig it baby. ugh.

as a canadian, i'm very impressed with bourdain's "documentary" of quebec gastronomy. i love the fact that he went way north to sup on raw seal, something the vast majority of canadians only hear about. he's absolutely right: if you have any pretensions to cooking or gourmet living, you've got be fearless. bourdain looked totally at home in that inuit kitchen and the people were obviously at home with him being there, snacking along with them. mark my words, in years to come, this episode will be remembered as a high point of his schtick.

the problem with iron chef america is the same problem one finds in the american wine community. when it comes to gastronomy, americans have a certain insecurity that they wallpaper over using either verbosity (see Robert Parker a la the recent New Yorker profile) or vulgar aggressiveness (see Bobby Flay). only mario batali seems to have enough chops and confidence to seem both serious and sedate on this show. i miss sakai from the original japanese episodes but batali eases the pain.

the missus and i went to trio atelier last friday. very impressive service. however... the room has a certain farmhouse charm (despite the blazing lights of the lobby) with the pale wood but why are those video screens there. and what about the rubbish on the menu trying to explain in the most pretentious of terms. i've had just about enough of this small plate/large plate nonsense but trio atelier has some lovely things at the top of the menu that leave you feeling a bit better about the concept. the rabbit dumpling is a masterpiece. the demitasse of onion soup was less successful. the most impressive item was a duck salad. we ordered a pork tenderloin that our cheeky server referred to as "the new black"; very unimpressive - almost no flavor although the chipolte compote that came with it was quite tasty. over all, i think trio atelier needs to cut the crap - the videoscreens and the tapas pretense - and get down to basics. solid, simple vittles in a lovely little room. grant is gone. seize the opportunity for something new, not a pale echo.

Bravo for this marvellous story on that long maligned yet little tippled spirit, grappa. For those who know Italian cuisine, no meal is complete without a gorgeous grappa to chase down a fortifying espresso. I fondly remember the pinga/cachaca emporiums in Belo Horizonte, Brazil where every gentleman farmer purveyed his special firewater. If only America, in all its varied regions, could do the same with grappa. It is an integral part of Italian dining and should be promoted as such.

any recommendations for restaurants/food stalls/crazy grannies' homes/dive bars in oaxaca are appreciated. looking to attack mole and tequila with equal relish.