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)

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.

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.

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.

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.

Now, birthdays don’t happen every day. (Well, now that’s wrong. Birthdays do happen every day. I just don’t live with enough people to justify baking or buying a birthday cake every day.) So, the chance of finding a glorious sliver of goodness in the back of the fridge is certainly remote.

Then, why not just make cake for breakfast? I mean, God invented coffee cake for that very reason, right? Of course, if I ate cake every morning, I’d be a diabetic before Paula Deen could scream out, “Pass me the butta, ya’ll.”

So, I found this bland, non-frosted little number for a happy breakfast compromise. It’s cake. I want to be absolutely clear on that score. But, it has yogurt in it so it might be a bit healthy. I don’t know Yvonne or why she scored a recipe in Classic Cakes Tempting Tortes by Jane Suthering, but there you have it.

Yvonne’s Yogurt Cake

• ½ C softened butter, plus more for greasing
• ½ C plain yogurt
• 1 C sugar
• 2 eggs
• 1¼ C flour
• 1½ t baking powder
• Finely grated zest of 1 washed lemon or 1 T orange blossom water
• Strawberry or raspberry preserves or fresh berries, for serving

Preheat oven to 350° F. Grease the bottom of an 8¾” round cake pan (or 9”… how about a standard 9” pan?) with oil or butter and line the bottom with wax or parchment paper.

Mix the yogurt and sugar in a large bowl until smooth, then beat in the butter and the eggs until well combined.

Sift the flour and baking powder together and beat them into the mixture. Then stir in the lemon zest or orange blossom water.

Transfer the batter to the prepared pan and bake until risen and just firm to the touch, about 45 minutes. Let cool in the pan, then transfer to a wire rack.

Serve with preserves or fresh berries, if using, to accompany morning coffee.

Results

A delightfully simple recipe to make. This is a dry cake—which I think you need in the morning. Something to dunk in or sop up the coffee or tea.

I think my only change would be to make it in a square pan. That way, you can cut slices more like bread and slather it with butter or jam or canned frosting. Whatever floats your Monday morning boat.

That’s why I’d like to thank the good folks at Real Simple for helping me get past my hatred for crock pottery. I received a subscription to the magazine for Christmas, and my very first issue contained none other than a section devoted to crock pot recipes.

Ever the adventurer, I pointed out a few to Paul and made him choose. Of course, he looked at the pictures, immediately discerned which one had the most meat per serving, and calmly pointed to the recipe saying, “Did you even have to ask?” I now bring you Paul’s choice:

Sausages with Sauerkraut and Potatoes

• 1½ lbs red new potatoes (about 18), halved if large
• 2 C sauerkraut, drained
• 1 small onion, thinly sliced
• ½ C low-sodium chicken broth
• ¼ C dry white wine
• 1 t caraway seeds
• Kosher salt and black pepper
• 1½ lb bratwurst links
• ¼ C chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
• Toasted dark bread (such as pumpernickel), butter, and whole-grain mustard

In a 4- to 6-quart slow cooker, mix together the potatoes, sauerkraut, onion, broth, wine, caraway seeds, ½ t salt, and ¼ t pepper. Nestle the bratwurst in the vegetables.

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

Sprinkle the bratwurst, potatoes, and sauerkraut with the parsley and serve with the toast, butter, and mustard.

Results

I am not really known as a lover of sauerkraut. But, this recipe is ridiculously easy and comes out well. The key, I suspect, is draining the sauerkraut of all its krautey-ness. And, then heating it for a day doesn’t hurt either.

Carb-loaded much?

You could probably put the sausages and kraut in buns and use the potatoes as a side. And, while this isn’t exactly heavy on traditional green vegetables, anyone who has eaten sauerkraut can attest to its high-fiber content.

But, the best part of this recipe is that the peculiar smell of kraut was contained within the crock pot. And, dissipated quickly after I washed the darn thing out.

You sit down and your nail technician starts chatting. Maybe she’s chatting with you, but usually it’s with a coworker or fellow patron. The conversation inevitably turns to food (it is lunchtime after all) and pretty soon people are comparing the best restaurants to get pho, or Vietnamese noodle soup.

By the time you’re sitting at the drying station, you’re pretty much convinced you need to drive across town for soup. So, you do. Because you’re susceptible to suggestion and pretty weak-willed when it comes to food. And, if you’re in Chicago, you might end up at Tank Noodle Restaurant. It’s known for pho (not as good as homemade so say the nail salon employees, but when is it ever?) If you’re a smaller party, be prepared to share a part of your table with another group. (They’ll sit at one end, you at the other.) If you’re a larger group, be prepared to wait—especially at peak times.

What We Ate

We started with spring rolls stuffed with shrimp, lettuce, mint, chives, and bean sprouts. They’re served with a peanut dipping sauce that is thick and syrupy in a cling-to-the-roll way (that’s a good thing). At first bite, the mint was a touch off-putting, but I got to like it by the end of the long roll.

Before your bowls come out, the server drops a plate with bean sprouts, basil, and jalapeño peppers on your table. I had seafood with rice noodle soup (so not technically pho as there was no beef or chicken). In addition to the noodles, the bowl came crammed with shrimp, “real” crab meat, squid, fish cakes (which were really balls), and vegetables. The fish balls had a very odd texture that I did not enjoy. After I dumped in a few squirts of sriracha sauce (available in the center carousel of each table), I was good to go.

My friend had the duck with rice noodles soup. It came with a side of ginger fish sauce for dumping wholesale into the bowl. Be warned, the duck is served in that traditional Asian way—bones, skin, and gristle floating around. The rest of the soup is also packed with a variety of veggies.

Make no mistake, these bowls are big and not terribly expensive. (Hence, the crowded atmosphere.) I didn’t finish my bowl… not by a long shot.

What We Drank

I stuck with water as I was getting over a cold (and other assorted activities). My friend had a fruit smoothie. Again, the sizes are pretty substantial. In addition to the traditional fruits, you can also get durian and jack fruit smoothies. So, if you’re feeling adventurous, have at it.

This is a very casual, eatery so jeans, t-shirts, jammie pants are all pretty standard. And, because it’s a soup joint near the train station, expect hung over college kids on weekend mornings, but also a sizeable number of families.

Location: 4953-55 N. Broadway (at Argyle). Closed on Wednesdays, but open pretty much all day every other time.

On about.com, I found a recipe for chicken tarragon that sounded promising. When I made the recipe, I did 1½ times the amount of the recipe because I needed six servings (Brand new to clay cooking and I’m doing it for a dinner party. I know! I’m a crazy risk taker!).

I give you the original recipe here. If you don’t feel like breaking down a whole chicken (or only like white meat), just use bone-in, skin-on chicken breasts (four to six of them should do the trick).

Chicken Tarragon for the Clay Cooker

• 1 frying chicken, cut in half or quarters
• ½ C chicken broth
• Juice of 1 fresh lemon (about 2 T)
• 1 T tarragon vinegar
• 1 t dried tarragon leaves
• 1½ t kosher salt
• ½ t black pepper
• 1 t Hungarian sweet paprika (thanks to my sister-in-law, I happened to have some directly from Hungary)
• 2 shallots, finely chopped
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• ½ C heavy cream
• 1 T all-purpose flour

Pre-soak both top and bottom of a large clay cooker in water for at least 15 minutes. Drain. Line with parchment paper for easier clean-up. (I didn’t line with parchment because I thought the whole point was to have the darn thing get seasoned over time. Yes, there was scraping, but nothing too difficult.)

Arrange chicken, skin-side up, in the bottom of the clay cooker (I definitely had to layer them as I had a few extra breasts in the pot. But, one chicken should fit pretty nicely in a standard sized baker). Pour chicken broth down the side into the bottom. Whisk together the lemon juice and tarragon vinegar. Drizzle evenly over the chicken.

In a small bowl, stir together tarragon leaves, salt, pepper, and paprika. Sprinkle mixture over chicken pieces. Top with shallots and garlic.

Cover the clay cooker with the lid and place into a cold oven. Turn on oven to 450°. Bake about 1¼ hours, until chicken is lightly golden.

Remove chicken and cover to keep warm. Whisk flour into heavy cream. Pour juices from the bottom of the clay cooker into a small saucepan over medium heat. Whisk in heavy cream. Bring to a boil and cook until slightly thickened, stirring often. Serve gravy over chicken. (So, I did the gravy a more traditionally. I heated 1 T butter and then added the flour so as to make a roux. Then, I mixed in the cream and pan juices. I just felt this would result in a better gravy.)

Results

I was skeptical—especially about the whole cold oven business. I thought for sure the skin would be mushy or that the chicken would have a boiled meat taste. Neither one happened. It was, in fact, remarkably good. Moist (I know, I know, but it wasn’t really juicy… just moist.) on the inside and skin that was tasty. It’s not crispy skin that you’d get from baking in a traditional casserole, but it’s quite nice. The paprika gave it a bit of color as well.

I am a happy convert to the clay baking way.

I am a Johnny-come-lately to the magic of lentils. For years, they were just those things that swim around making soup mushy. Then, I went to Spain and had lunch with my friend’s host family. As we walked through the plaza toward their apartment, she said, “Don’t freak out. But, we’re going to have lentejas and squid in black ink sauce.”

Not to sound like a boor, I asked, “What are lentejas?” My friend looked confused. “Lentejas. You know, lentejas!” I didn’t want to point out that she was just repeating the same word over and over. Perhaps, I thought, she is so fluent in Spanish she doesn’t really know when she’s not speaking it. Needless to say, when lunch was served, I looked at my bowl and across the table to her. “Lentils. They’re lentils.” I guess she didn’t eat too many of them back home either.

But, thanks to my Frenchy style culinary school, I have a pretty great recipe for cold lentil salad. (It also tastes good warm.) What follows is my modified version. If you’re veg-friendly, just sauté with olive oil instead of the bacon.

Lentil Salad

• 8 oz green puy lentils
• 1 sprig thyme
• 1 bay leaf
• 2 oz bacon
• 1 large shallot, finely chopped
• 3 oz extra virgin olive oil
• 1 oz red wine vinegar
• Salt and pepper

Place the lentils in cold water and cook for 20 minutes with salt, thyme, and bay leaf.

In a large sauté pan, heat bacon until crispy. Remove from pan, and when cool crumble. While bacon fat is still hot, add shallot and sauté until browned.

Remove thyme and bay leaf from lentils and drain any remaining water from the pan. Add lentils to shallots. (You can use pre-cooked, frozen lentils as well. Just add them frozen to the pan once the shallots are brown.) Stir and remove from heat.

Once the lentils are cooled, add the bacon, then toss with olive oil and vinegar. Season with salt and pepper.

Results

I would eat this every day if I could. Well, I’m a grown-up so I can, but maybe it’s not that wise to eat all these beans. People might not want to be around me so much.

The recipe keeps well in the fridge and tastes delish cold, so make scads of it… then, you’ll never be without lentils.