One Too Many Martinis

It’s taken me some time to write this review. I’ve had to give some deep thought into how much detail I want to go into on this one. Not because the place is some sort of awful gin joint. On the contrary, it did its job a bit too well.

Let’s just say put it this way: I went for after-work drinks at Marty’s Martini Bar in Andersonville and then spent a very early evening doing things I haven’t done since college. I am still rather abashed about the entire evening.

So, here’s the lowdown:

Marty’s is a tight squeeze. They have a few high tops up front and a bar running the length of the place. Opposite the bar, they have a rail (with stools). If a rather large man tried to get between the bar and the rail on his way to the restroom (just hypothetically), he would definitely bump a drink or two. But, that’s OK because when the lady he bumped goes to order her drink, she’d have to really wedge herself between said rotund man and his friend.

The tight fit is OK because, honestly, after drinking one of their GINORMOUS martinis, you won’t really notice much in the way of decor or people bumping into you. They have two sizes of martinis, I would seriously suggest going with the smaller size.

That’s all they serve. Martinis. They have a full liquor menu, a few wines, and a selection of beer. But, that’s it. This isn’t a get some appetizers and have a few drinks sort of place. Nope. This is go and drink. Without nachos or charcuterie plates.

What I Drank

I ordered a Tickled Pink to start. It’s chilled vodka, raspberry liqueur, cranberry and sour mix. So, basically, my usual drink in a difficult glass. Then, I had a Lemon Drop. (Yes, it’s pretty much what you think it is… vodka, triple sec, and lemon juice with a rim of sugar.)

Now, here is where my tale gets painful. I didn’t finish this second martini. I liked it well enough, but I pawned half of it off on my friend. Then, I ordered the Funky Monkey Chocolate Banana which is what they invented the word awesome to describe. It’s a chocolate martini with a splash of banana liqueur. A wonderful dessert drink if I ever knew one.

I took two sips and that was it. I was done. And, by done, I don’t mean I finished the drink. By done, I mean, I couldn’t drink anymore. Because the magic alcohol fairies had turned me into a complete light weight. What the hell? A martini and a half and I began my descent into abject misery. This incident occurred about a month ago, and I have not touched hard alcohol since. (Wine… yes. But I am off the sauce, people. Off the sauce!)

That begs the question: Would I go back? Um, yeah. Because the servers the next day were very nice to me when I went looking for my lost credit card. (Don’t worry. It turned up at the bottom of my bag covered in sick minutes after I cancelled the card. I told you… it was not a nice night.)

So, once I get back on the alcohol wagon (that’s right… nondrinkers have their wagon, I have mine), here are my rules on going back to Marty’s:

1. Eat dinner beforehand.
2. Order the small size.
3. Start with the chocolate one.

Location: 1511 W. Balmoral Avenue (yeah, it’s there… go past the hot dog place)

Easy Butternut Squash Soup

I’m forever trying to introduce vegetables that I hate into the diet of my toddler without having to eat any myself. I have never been a fan of the squash family. I don’t like zucchini unless it’s deep fried. I absolutely loathe pumpkin pie. Don’t even get me started on butternut squash. It’s the texture, people. It just tastes like goopy mouth. And, because it is ick in my mouth, I couldn’t even try to like the taste.

Until my friend made me her butternut squash soup for me. It was really very good. I had to admit that I like the taste of butternut squash, just not the texture. So, I went off to find a simple recipe that didn’t involve roasting a butternut squash. (In my quest to fill Mr. Moo’s diet with squash, I came across pre-cubed squash at Costco. Like me, my son hates the squash in cube form but totally digs in soupized.)

I found my starter recipe at the Whole Foods web site. And, then I made a few of changes.

Butternut Squash Soup

• 2 T olive oil
• 2 large carrots, diced
• 2 celery stalks, diced
• 1 medium onion, diced
• 6-8 C cubed butternut squash, cubed (If you’re using squash in full form, I would use maybe one or two and roast them for a bit in a 450° oven. The roasting just makes the squash easier to cut.)
• ½ t chopped fresh thyme
• 6 C homemade stock (If you use store-bought, make sure you get low-sodium.)
• ¼ C heavy cream
• Sea salt and ground black pepper, to taste
• Blue cheese, as a garnish

Heat olive oil in a large soup pot over medium-high heat. Add carrot, celery, and onion. Cook until vegetables have begun to soften and onion turns translucent, 3 to 4 minutes. Add butternut squash and thyme. Stir to combine with vegetables. Stir in stock. The stock shouldn’t quite cover the squash. If you put in too much liquid, the soup will be pretty thin.

Bring to a boil, reduce heat and simmer until squash is fork-tender, about 20 minutes. Add salt and pepper, to taste. Use an immersion blender to puree soup. Alternatively, let the soup cool slightly and carefully puree in batches in a traditional blender.

After you’ve pureed, add the cream and stir. Let simmer gently for 5 more minutes. Ladle into bowls and serve with crumbled blue cheese on top.

Results

This recipe makes about eight small servings or six lunch-sized servings. Mr. Moo finds this to be a fantastic use of vegetables. I like the extra kick of the blue cheese, but you could top with croutons or diced apple to add a touch of crunch.

And, the big bonus in our house is that it also freezes and reheats like a charm.

Eat Local—Even if You Have to Drive to Get There

Eating local has been the big thing for the last few years. In Chicago, there are a number of restaurants that grow or make their own whatevers from rooftop gardens and nearby farms. Housemade is the buzz word on most menus these days. The idea is that it’s healthier for you and the environment if you eat what is nearest to you, in season and available.

Western Michigan is no different—even better, if you think that they have easier access to the farms than Chicagoans. If you’re a fan of local eating and find yourself in the Mitten anytime soon, you should check out Food Dance. Now, when I talk about being local and being around for a while, they’re it. They’ve been doing the locally sourced, locally grown thing since… well, since I attended college (EONS ago).

For my yearly family midpoint gathering, we all met at Food Dance for some brunching and lunching. They have expanded considerably in the last few eons. They have a much bigger and airier dining room as well as a marketplace where you can buy assorted local goods, and treats from their own bakery. I know that people outside of the Mitten usually peg the state as gun-toting members of some militia living in duck blinds while plotting the latest in apocalyptic survival techniques. I’ll set the record straight—Michigan is full of granola-eating, former hippies who love a good free-range, non-antibiotic homemade cheese paired with a beer brewed from locally-sourced hops as much as the next guy. (You’re sitting in a tent waiting for the world to end. What else are you going to eat?)

What We Ate

Paul and I both ordered the same thing—the special burger of the day. It was pretty much a combo of their Bed and Breakfast Burger (brioche roll with sunny side up egg, housemade bacon, tomato, and chipotle mayo) and their BBQ Rocksteady sandwich (slow cooked pulled pork and BBQ sauce with spicy slaw). So, yeah, we each had a burger that was piled with pulled pork, an egg, and spicy coleslaw. Absolutely a piece of heaven. Absolutely worth the drive from Chicago to Kalamazoo.

The Moo enjoyed a quesadilla plate and a side of fruit. You can get the quesadillas with chicken, but the little guy went veg on us. He really enjoyed pulling apart the layers of flakey dough to get at the cheese.

Everyone else at the table started with cups of soup which are actually small bowls (not those crappy cups you so often get).

My mom had a Blue Danube which is a roasted turkey sandwich with bacon, blue cheese dressing, and caramelized onions on sourdough bread. Then, it’s grilled. Looked pretty fantastic from where I was sitting.

My dad had the Woodland Omelet. A scary description on the menu—this breakfast gem included locally foraged mushrooms (eek!), green onions, and Swiss cheese. He said it was pretty good.

I’m sorry to say that despite my best efforts, I can’t remember what my sister ate. But, she must have enjoyed it because on the car ride back she said that we should make this the place we meet up from now on. She said there were enough items on the menu for her to choose from (she’s mostly vegetarian… sometimes).

What We Drank

I had a root beer in a glass bottle. (Doesn’t soda just taste better in glass bottles? That’s why I like living in my neighborhood, because my grocery store has soda in the large glass bottles like back in the olden day… not just those crappy commemorative six-packs they offer up around the holidays.)

Food Dance also has a full bar featuring, what else, local beer. Yes, Paul availed himself of this opportunity to try some brew.

One final note: I loved that the hot sauce the waiter brought to the table was from a company in Ann Arbor. Doesn’t get more local than that.

Location: 401 E. Michigan Avenue, Kalamazoo, MI. There is free parking behind the restaurant and across the street.

Another Dinner at a Hotel

My sister and I are drawn to restaurants and bars in hotels. Not on purpose, mind you. We just inevitably end up at one. There is something innately wonderful about a hotel bar. Perhaps, it is the mystery of travel—the feeling that we could meet anyone among these foreigners or that anything could happen. Or, we just enjoy making fun of fanny-packers from Iowa. (Kinda depends on the hotel bar, right?)

Travel aside, Emily and I have also been known to dine at hotel establishments within our fair city. One phone call, one Groupon, and one word (sushi) later, we found ourselves at Aja, the “urban greenmarket Asian cafe” at the Dana Hotel.

The room is a bit weird. They have those fake red Chinese lanterns hanging from the ceiling and a fake (although modern) fireplace. The room is clad in various shades of wood. The restaurant is on two levels—with a bar on each floor. The menu is heavy on the seafood with just a few items for the vegetarians out there.

What We Ate

As we went for mostly sushi, we split everything:

Curried mussels: Steamed mussels in red curry coconut broth, cilantro, and ginger. Served with toasted herb bread. The sauce is good, but there’s not enough of it. You find it at the bottom of the bowl whe you’re halfway through the dish and think, “There should maybe be a bit more of this goodness.”

Spicy tuna roll: Your typical spicy tuna roll with cucumber, tobiko, togarashi, and spicy mayo. Good, but not outstanding, amazing, I have to go back.

Citrus salmon roll: Salmon rolled with ripe mango, avocado, and preserved lemon. Bright and refreshing, but not over-powering with the lemon.

Hamachi roll: Asparagus, jalapeño, avocado, cilantro, yuzu sauce. My absolute favorite. Really a very fine sushi roll. The jalapeño added a bit of a kick but in a good way that makes you want to eat more.

Kimchee: Napa cabbage, rice vinegar and jalapeño. This is considered a side, and if you want to order more than one side, they have a sliding price scale. You could make a meal of just side dishes without too much problem. Again, good, but not overly spicy.

Korean potato salad: Served in garlic aioli, scallions, and chives. I’m not sure what made this potato salad Korean as opposed to any other sort of potato salad. If I ever go back, I’d opt for the marble potatoes which are poached in duck fat.

What We Drank

Wine by the glass. I had a shiraz. Emily had something red as well and then switched to something else that was red. (Yup, I’m that good when it comes to wines.) I don’t remember a very exciting cocktail menu, but I’m off hard liquor for a good long while. (I’ll tell you all about it after I get over my mortification.)

Location: 660 N. State Street, in the Dana Hotel. They have a spa and valet parking, so you could come for lunch or dinner and stay for a massage and some stranger moving the seat around in your car.

I Get Cocky with a Crock Pot

Emboldened by the triumph of last week’s sausage and sauerkraut adventure, I took another stab at crock pot cooking. Because Real Simple provided me with the recipe that broke through my hatred of the infernal crock pot, I turned to another recipe from the same issue.

Sigh.

Big, big sigh. And, then shaking an angry fist at my own foolish audacity. Why had I dared to hope? Why did I think to dream of a world where I could know the mysteries of the crock pot?

I have banished my crock pot back to the basement where it belongs. Gather dust, you bastard among kitchen appliances. (Now, I imagine my breadmaker and crock pot in collusion against me. To both of them, I say, “Mock me no more! But live an appliance life of abject misery in your dank cellar prison. You shall not see the light of day until summer. And, then, only as a forsaken object of scorn in my yard sale.”)

This was the crock pot’s downfall.

Creamy Chicken and Mushroom Potpie

• 8 oz cremini mushrooms, stems trimmed and halved if large
• 4 carrots, cut into 1” pieces
• 1 medium onion, chopped
• ⅓ C all-purpose flour
• 2 sprigs fresh thyme
• 1 bay leaf
• 1½ lb boneless, skinless chicken thighs (about 8)
• Kosher salt and black pepper
• 1 sheet puff pastry (half a 17.3-oz package), thawed
• 1 C frozen peas
• 1 C frozen green beans
• ⅓ C heavy cream

In a 4- to 6-quart slow cooker, mix together the mushrooms, carrots, onion, flour, thyme, bay leaf, and ½ C water. Place the chicken on top; season with 1 t salt and ¼ t pepper.

Cover and cook until the chicken and vegetables are tender, on low for 7-8 hours or on high for 4-5 hours.

Thirty minutes before serving, heat oven to 425°F. Using a 4½” cutter or large glass, cut the pastry into 4 circles. Place on a baking sheet and bake until golden, 8-10 minutes. (I didn’t have puff pastry so I made biscuits instead. Since you just lay the pastry on top instead of using it as a lid to cook the pot pie, I thought biscuits would be a suitable substitute.)

Ten minutes before serving, add the peas, green beans, cream and ½ t salt to the chicken mixture and stir to combine. Cover and cook on high or low until heated through, 5-10 minutes more. To serve, place the chicken mixture in bowls and top with the pastry rounds.

Result

Sadly, this is probably the worst chicken pot pie I have ever had the unfortunate experience to eat. And, I’ve had pot pies in some of the lesser known “Irish” pubs in Chicago. Cream of chicken canned soup with frozen peas tastes better than this one.

First, this is not a true pot pie. You’re making a big bowl of creamy stew and then sticking some pastry bits on top. But, I would have gotten over that if it weren’t for the fact that the mushrooms turned the creamy part a funky brown-gray. Not, a very appetizing look.

And, I would have gotten over the appearance if the taste wasn’t so horrendous. Putting the frozen vegetables in at the last minute made them rather distinct in flavor. So, the chicken and the carrots tasted like chicken-carrot, and then there was a crunchy green bean. Or, a pea that tasted like pea instead of pea in pot pie pea. It was weird to eat a dish that is so much about blending flavors but have these non-blended pieces popping up.

The thigh meat made the chicken overly chewy.

When fed to Mr. Moo, he would take a bite, move things around in his mouth, and spit out the mushrooms and green beans. Then, he’d chew anything else that remained. This continued until he had quite a pile of mushrooms and green beans. But, can I blame him? Who the F puts green beans or mushrooms in chicken pot pie? And, where is the celery? I’m not a purest by any stretch, but come on! Everyone knows peas, carrots, celery: Bang! Chicken pot freaking pie. Even my 1½ year old son knows that green beans and mushrooms have no business in this recipe.

So, I asked Paul what he thought. Actually, I’ll be honest, I took a few bites, looked at him, and said, “I’m never making this again. This is horrible. What do you think?”

He replied, “Not your finest work. That other chicken pot pie recipe you made was WAY better.” Then, he took a few more bites of the offending brew and mumbled, “Way, way better.” A few more bites, “I kind of wish I was eating that pot pie right now.” And, then he finished the bowl.

Oh! And, happy Valentine’s day to those of you who celebrate such things. Obviously, I don’t.