Allow me to address a theme that runs through a number of missives I’ve received from my detractors, most of whom have this ass-backwards notion that restaurant reviews should be as chipper as the banter of those coifed nimrods over at Good Morning Arizona. That is, when somebody deigns to…
The good news first: I’ve recently had the pleasure of eating at the hippest new sushi joint in the Valley, with maki rolls so innovative, and yet professionally prepared, that I’d almost be willing to move upstairs from the place so that I could get my daily fix. Now the…
Though I have yet to visit Siam, I have lived in the next best place for Thai cuisine: Los Angeles. In La-La Land, there are nearly as many Thai restaurants as there are taquerias in Phoenix, and I became so accustomed to that country’s unique mélange of spicy, sweet-and-sour flavors…
Pardon my language, but all of these low-carb-South Beach-Atkins fanatics can take a giant bite out of my billowy boxers. Why, I’m as dyspeptic as John Ashcroft with a grapefruit-size gallstone, and all because of this asinine Atkins drivel that would have us forgo one of the most satisfying gustatory…
Oh, the things I do for my beloved public! I was at home the other day, enjoying a bottle of Shiraz, nibbling on a hunk of Kerrygold Dubliner cheese, and exploring sites about numismatics on the Internet, when I checked my e-mail to discover an impassioned missive from an employee…
Drift Polynesian Restaurant and Tiki Lounge, ,
My personal mantra in all things culinary and cultural mimics that wry, clock-wearing philosopher of yore, Public Enemy’s Flava Flav, who was fond of advising listeners, “Don’t believe the hype!” That ageless, pithy axiom can apply equally to Jay-Z’s announced intention to resign from rap (not again!), as well as…
As you might surmise from my pork-lovin’ Tar Heel roots, there’s nothing I adore more than a mass of shredded swine. But here in the desert, so far from the slaughterhouses of my native North Carolina, I’ve rarely come across restaurateurs who can prepare pig so that the meat is…
Whenever St. Valentine’s Day draws near, my thoughts turn to cod. True, there initially may seem nothing so unromantic as the humble Gadus morhua, which spends its life swimming along the ocean floor, mandibles agape, devouring anything in its path. Fishermen have even been known to slit open these vacuum…
Such is my cross, that I must often let fly a long-winded raspberry in the face of those I wish were doing a better job of feeding me. Call it culinary tough-love. As my pappy was wont to declare before caning my hide raw for mooning a schoolmarm or some…
For whatever blasted reason, my missteps have been costing me beaucoup simoleons of late. So I thought I’d share these with you that you might gain wisdom from my blunders, much along the same lines as we all stand to benefit from Christina Aguilera’s decision to go skanky or Miss…
Pardon me for saying so, but I’m beginning to wonder if some folks in this town need their craniums checked for nests of field mice. Of course, by now, I’m sure quite a few of you are thinking the same of moi — at least if one’s to judge by…
I was puttering about in my housecoat and slippers the other day, listening to Puccini’s Turandot and fiddling with my collection of foreign bottle caps, when I spotted the purple top for a bottle of Young’s Double Chocolate Stout. One of my favorite brews, its company logo features a ram…
Scripture informs us that a prophet is never welcome in his own country, and the same holds true for exceptional individuals in one’s own backyard. Even the surly savants of the New Times editorial staff are not immune to this truism. Consider the injustice done to their next-door neighbor, Stacy…
For good or ill, it was Dean Martin who led me to Pronto Ristorante. Not that I mean Ol’ Pink Eyes himself arose from his grave to guide me, drink and cigarette in hand, to this P-town pasta house. But he might as well. See, Santa was good to me…
Everyone remembers their first time . . . eating raw oysters, that is. Why, this garrulous gourmand was but a callow underclassman at UNC-Chapel Hill, when during a fall break I was invited to an oyster shuck thrown by some rowdy fellows with whom I shared courses. With kegs flowing…
As a member in good standing of PETA (that’s People for the Eating of Tasty Animals), I’ve long nursed a flesh-eating fantasy that would put serial bison-killer Ted Nugent to shame: a ranch-restaurant where all manner of critters roam the grounds, everything from javelina and jackrabbit to ostrich and Gambel’s…
Korean cuisine can be intimidating. The staples can be bizarre to American palates (yangjulgi gui is pan fried ox stomach, for example, and ke jang is pickled raw Dungeness crab in hot sauce). The spice level can be brutal for any nationality, with massive flurries of red pepper an integral…
Not much happens in Litchfield Park. A community of just 3.1 acres and 3,800 residents, this place’s only appeal to “outsiders” has always been the Wigwam Resort. The Wigwam is a gorgeous luxury property, a historic jewel, and home of the national-award-winning restaurant the Arizona Kitchen. The resort is a…
I’m happy to report that the west side of Phoenix can add another gem to its list of outstanding ethnic eateries. It’s called El Coqueto, a tiny half-dozen-table cafe in a tiny strip mall at 35th Avenue and Glendale. What a difference time makes. When I was growing up, that…
W.C. Fields didn’t live long enough to see the modern incarnation of the wine bar, but he had some great thoughts on grapes and grub. “I cook with wine,” he said. “Sometimes I even add it to the food.” My favorite Fieldism: “Some weasel took the cork out of my…
