The kitchen is out of frogs’ legs. I’m disappointed. Frog is one of my favorite Vietnamese dishes. My dining companion is wrinkling his nose at the thought of nibbling on the little limbs, but he’s never actually had the delicacy before. Trust me, I tell him: Frogs’ legs, when absolutely…
Let’s get one thing straight. I’ve got strict expectations for high-end eateries — spotless ambiance, spotless service, and, of course, spotless food to go along with the spotless silverware. I’m paying big bucks for perfect, and am quick to complain if I receive anything less. But funky can be a…
Once upon a time, in restaurants far and wide, food was food. There was Italian, Chinese, Mexican . . . but we pretty much always knew what we were getting when we ordered. Spaghetti, chow mein, a burrito. There was high-end cuisine — but the genteel recipes were protected by…
The soup is fashioned from little more than cilantro, garlic, potatoes, avocado and chicken stock. It’s entirely simple. Still, the concoction has me mesmerized. I could buy these ingredients in any grocery store. I’ve got the knives with which to chop, the pots in which to simmer. I could measure…
Letters, I get letters. Usually, if a reader takes the time to write or call, he’s pretty passionate about his food. It’s impressive how worked up some folks get over a taco or a burger. Sometimes, these readers are almost scary in their pleas. I have here in my hand…
The waitress at The Willows slipped up. Working me at the new restaurant inside Casino Arizona-McKellips, she showed her hand too quickly. She did a good job pushing the food. The chef crafts each dish to order, she had told me proudly, frying the chicken tenders fresh for the salad,…
Barmouche has always been unpredictable. The stylish bistro debuted with an offbeat menu in 1999, emphasizing French cafe cuisine along with a bit of English pub fare, and even some American diner food. There was elegant brandade de morue (a paste of salt cod and milk with potato gratin) up…
I have a sudden fascination with mariachi music. I used to think I hated the stuff, after spending too many years in Rocky Point bars being molested by those wandering “Macarena” minstrels spewing “Guantanamera” over and over and over. Holy mole! One night, I cringed when a ruffled pack of…
I’m thinking our nation’s airline security force may have a new threat on the horizon. It’s called food. Forget sharp objects and explosives; what edibles people are bringing onto planes these days can be downright dangerous. Since America West, et al., limited in-flight noshing to a sack of pretzels, entrepreneurs…
The guy on the other end of the phone was bitter. He’d just come from lunch at a fast-food hamburger joint, and was ranting over what he considered an “outrage.” Specifically, he’d ordered a Carl’s Jr. “Western Bacon Six-Dollar Burger,” a sandwich highly promoted to be of sit-down-restaurant quality. But…
Yaffa, ,
The sky is rumbling, in that deep, dark voice. Which, in the language of the Valley, means monsoon season has arrived. The thunder is teasing that soon rain will explode on our heads in such big fat drops that we’ll be drenched within seconds. We have roiling clouds in purple,…
Fibber Magees, see, is an Irish restaurant and pub. It celebrates the Celtic concept of “craic” (pronounced “crack”), meaning a fun, down-to-earth experience. Like any proper pub, it’s smoky and loud, thundering with live music on weekends, and pouring huge amounts of draught beer, like Harp, Guinness and Bass. It’s…
Chef Johnny Chu stops by our table for a visit. He was impressed by the quantity of food my party ordered, he says, and wants to see what in the world we’re about. There are just two of us for this sunny weekday lunch, but we’ve loaded up every inch…
Perhaps it’s not fair of me to be so disappointed with Café Citron. It could be that I’m too jealous of one of my friends, he being a very lucky guy with an adorable new villa in Provence, that magical, picturesque region of southern France. He’s spending the summer there,…
When I first looked up the Italian definition of “sugo,” the translation I got was “gravy.” Which is curious, because Sugo, the latest hot fashionable bistro in Old Town Scottsdale’s art gallery and nightclub district, serves pasta. As in high-end spaghetti, and nothing but, except for a few salads and…
A friend of mine has a curious pastime. He likes to go out with a large group of friends to pricey restaurants, and, when the bill arrives, play what he calls “credit card roulette.” All the guys in his gang put their AmEx Platinums in a pile, their waiter shuffles…
Two-month-old Hoffman’s at 57th looks so wonderland adorable, I want to bring everyone I know to show it off as if it were my own private cafe. Imagine, in the heart of historic Glendale, there’s a place hidden off a strip of well-weathered antique shops seemingly culled from a romantic…
My friends and I were driving around Los Angeles the other weekend, in search of, what else, food. It’s mucky hot in Phoenix these days, I hadn’t seen these pals in a while, and any chance I get to explore eating outside my Valley borders, I need nothing more to…
My brain hurts. I’ve been trying to figure out what to have for dinner. Normally, such a decision would be no big deal: I’ve always been a carefree grazer, eating whatever I want whenever I want, virtually never falling into a three-squares-a-day routine. I snack on small bits of this…
My sister Elisabeth was wearing a tee shirt imprinted with the phrase “Breakfast of Champions.” It was a cute thing, appliquéd with cartoons of classic early morning fare given human qualities: a smiling glass of orange juice; a beaming platter of bacon, eggs and potatoes; a dancing pitcher of milk;…
I’ve just realized that I’ve never eaten a fresh anchovy before. That’s no great surprise to many people, I’m sure — “no anchovies, please” is a classic pizza request for good reason. Most of my friends wrinkle their noses at the exceedingly salty, sour fishiness, and the off-putting grayish-green coloring…
