Off the Beaten Path: Los Cuates

Acting on a tip from someone over at the Trib's food forum, I stopped in to Los Cuates today to try their tamales. Then I saw the "6 Tacos, 8 Dollars" option and forgot why I'd even come. Listed were azada, adovada, carnitas, cueritos, pollo, barbacoa and a couple of other choices. I'd never heard of cueritos before, but my waitress said they're like chicharrones (yes, some Spanish ability and prior exposure to authentic Mexican food would help at Los Cuates). Me? I just knew chicharrones had something to do with pork skins. Anyway, I ordered one of each of the options listed above and most were outstanding. Only the dried out pollo was truly lackluster. The side of refried beans were above average (not saying much, but still); rice, the pointless standard around here.

The tortillas seemed homemade, so I asked the waitress about it. In broken English and Spanish I determined (I think) that they are made in town but not actually at the restaurant.

The space seems designed to become a nightclub after dinner service, an awkward arrangement I've encountered in Mexican places as far flung as Birmingham, Alabama and northern Virginia before. It's also a meat market of sorts. Steaks, pork chops, etc. There was some thin-sliced pork (looked like prosciutto, actually) and lots of pig odds and ends marinating in vinegar. A guy was working the slicer while I ate, breaking down steaks into retailable portions. Nothing's labeled or priced, so they're not banking on the English-mostly-gringo crowd keeping them afloat. Oh well, something - along with the tamales I forgot about - to explore on a future visit (or maybe with my friend from Mexico).

Los Cuates

2908 Paris Road (beside Gerbes)

(573) 814-1545

Second location:

2517 Bernadette Dr.

(573-445-4364

Eatless in Seattle

So the wife and four year-old are off to Seattle for the week. She's working during the day, but grandma's tagging along to show the youngster all Seattle has to offer in the way of McDonalds' and bags of chips and candy. That's what grandparents do, but hopefully there'll be a vegetable thrown in there from time to time (and for heaven's sakes, the kid likes sushi...and you're in Seattle). I've never been to the former home of the SuperSonics, but know there's some kind of badass fish market and Mario Batali's dad has a place. That's where I'd be, but where should they go?

On the Apocalypse

I'm not really sure why this is, but I've always had a bit of a post-apocalyptic fascination. It's possible I was exposed to "Omega Man" too early, though one could argue against exposure to that particular film at any age. "I Am Legend," "28 Days Later" and the haunting Cormac McCarthy novel The Road followed. The resulting complex, no matter how I came down with it, has not (I repeat, not) driven me to stockpile weapons (I have nothing more lethal than a 7" chef's knife), hoard canned goods (just canned my first applesauce - three quarts! - last night) or board up the windows.

No, perhaps my utter helplessness is part of the reason I occasionally worry "Hey, what would we do if the power went out and didn't come back on? Other than slowly at first and then quickly starve, I mean." I am not sure if this is normal weight of the world dad stuff or a sign that I could use some time on a nice therapist's couch. Regardless, I'm trying to get a little more proactive about it. There's said applesauce in three Mason jars downstairs. I made bacon the other day, which turns out to be just about the easiest thing in the world (Pork belly, salt, Ziploc bag. Seven days. Bacon.) I bought Michael Ruhlman's masterpiece on the preservation of pork, Charcuterie, yesterday and have read eleven pages.

So I guess I should be fine. Whew, that's a load off.

But putting low-grade, fiction-induced psychoses aside, the preservation of food was something virtually every household did up until at least fifty years ago. You had a farm, a few pigs and a bunch of produce. And a family to feed all winter. So you dried and ground corn, cured and smoked hams and, with the arrival of Mason jars in 1858, canned stuff.

I'll give those and more a shot. And just in case the zombie hordes/environmental disaster/nuclear holocaust do materialize, at least we'll have applesauce and tasty bacon for a couple of days.

Welcome all

If you're stopping in after reading the story in the Tribune's food section today, welcome. This blog is about us, or more specifically, what we eat here in Missouri. Where it comes from, who grows it, who cooks it. We have options when we eat a meal - something most of us do at least three times a day - and this is about finding the best of what's out there and telling others where to go. Sometimes we're discussing obscure Italian hog-roasts, other times I'm yammering on again about the #17 at Chinese Wok Express. It's a mixed bag, all-over-the-map and (hopefully) at least slightly entertaining and helpful.

So comment away. Or email. Tell us where to eat and from whom to buy the good stuff. Given the history of heart disease in the men of my family, I've probably got about 50,000 meals left. There's not a moment to lose.

Sincerely,
Scott

ps: if you're not familiar with Columbia's other food resources online, I suggest you check out the Tribune's food forum, CoMo Whine and Dine and the other links along the left side of this page.

Photo by Nick King of the Columbia Daily Tribune.

The Great Porchetta Quest: Fruition (again, but better)

Marcia's piece in the Tribune just about says it all. My second go-round with porchetta (this time purchased from the extremely friendly and helpful Jim and Deanna Crocker) was more of a success than the first. I dropped the amount of rosemary used, cooked about a third of the meat as the first time and added a healthy dose of chopped garlic to the rub. Much, much better.

One of the best things about porchetta turned out to be its resilience. I sliced the pork at about 4:45 Saturday night and thought people would start eating when they showed up beginning at 5:00. Wrong. It was 6:00 or 6:30 before people really started getting into pork, mounding heaps of the stuff onto plates and buns. I thought surely the chafing dish keeping everything warm would by now leave us all with banquet room hockey pucks but no, it'd stood up quite well. Thanks no doubt to the ample amount of fat in the meat it was still terrific after two hours in a hot steam-bath. Try that with a boneless porkchop.

You're going to like Bleu. Probably a lot.

If the other brand-new tapas place downtown is an earnest Triple-A team learning the ropes, Bleu Restaurant is the Yankees, all class and professionalism and easy elegance. After admittedly just a single visit, Bleu looks and tastes ready for prime time.

Some purists may scoff at the menu's global approach to tapas (fried green tomatoes, lemon-marinated olives and steak frites all adorn the same menu) and wonder where the Spanish stuff is. Me? I'm just looking for something good to eat. And at Bleu, it looks like that will be just about everything.

The lunch menu is extensive, offering everything from two-dollar pickled vegetable plates to hanger steak and fries. A selection of sliders - pick any three for nine bucks - jumped out at me immediately. I chose the apple and housemade chicken sausage, the beef and muenster and the bison with balsamic onions gorgonzola and arugula. Each one is served on a rich, buttery brioche bun that resembles a biscuit in texture and flavor but manages a certain lightness at the same time. They also each had a well-executed contrast of textures and tastes (heavy gorgonzola cheese and snappy onions, earthy mushrooms and melty muenster, tart apple and sorghum mustard). The whole effect was thrilling.

A bit less successful was their cured salmon carpaccio, which came out with a lemony olive oil, capers and rather punchless arugula. Salmon can be a pretty assertive fish and this was a case in point, enhanced by the intensifying curing process. Salmon aficionados will be right at home but fence-setters should beware.

At this point I was having so much fun I ordered the marinated olives as well (c'mon, they're only three bucks). Out came a bowl of pitted Spanish and kalamata olives tossed with lemon, olive oil, garlic, rosemary and dill. Bleu's own pita slices came on the side. The olives were so bright and summery that I hated to not be sitting outside, catching a few rays and swirling a glass of Cotes du Rhone or something.

That brings up the wine, the second half of Bleu's resume. The by-the-bottle listing is fairly extensive, if a little heavy on the domestics. Still, most are affordable and a few treasures can be found (I've never had anything I didn't like from Thorn-Clarke's Shotfire Ridge operation, for instance). And I only see one Cotes du Rhone on the menu, though it is one of their by-the-glass offerings.

The partners behind Bleu endured countless delays and barriers to getting this place open. But it's clear they weren't wasting their time. My server had actually tried the food and wines and could discuss both with confidence. Food came out quickly and was excellent. One minor mishap (the computer at first double-billed me for my sliders) was handled quickly and with an apology. A general sense of self-assured competence permeates the place. Things may hairy for their first few busy Saturday nights, but there's no question a strong hand is at the wheel.

Columbia, your dining options just got better.

Bleu Restaurant and Wine Bar
23 S. 8th Street
Columbia, MO
(573) 442-8220
www.bleurestaurantandwinebar.com
(website's not yet live...perhaps casting some minor doubt on my Yankees/professionalism comment)

Blue, open.

The long and harrowing process of renovating the southeast corner of the Tiger Hotel is completed. After a few trial runs last week, Blue Restaurant and Wine Bar will officially open today, beginning with lunch.

From the sidewalk, the place looks gorgeous, equal parts elegance and comfort. Blonde wood floors in the bar area give way to tightly-woven tan carpet in the dining areas. The lighting, the gently curving room dividers and the twin rows of wine globes give the space a modern feel that still manages to look comfortable and inviting. Just getting to this point has been far more of an exercise in patience than the owners expected; now, the real fun starts.

See you at lunch.

Missouri Mills

I've been buying my grits (or polenta, if you like) and some of my wheat flour from the 250 year-old Old Mill of Guilford near Greensboro, North Carolina for a while now. They're the real deal, shipping you a bill with your order on the premise (hope?) that you'll mail back a check. They don't do credit cards.

But surely the Missouri Ozarks, littered as it is with the fast-flowing streams necessary to turn the stones of a mill, still has a working operation. Turns out, not so much. And it's sad. After all, mills were a centerpiece of frontier life in Missouri. As families carted sacks of grain to the local mill for grinding, entire towns sprung up around them. They were part commerce, part social gathering place. Few remain; those that do are tourist sites rather than working mills.

Madeline Matson in Food in Missouri: A Cultural Stew says most Missouri mills had closed by the middle of the twentieth century. The closest thing I can find was the familiar Hodgson Mill company, which I didn't recognize as a Missouri operation. You can find their products all over town but they're a fully modernized outfit these days, located in Gainesville, Mo (down by West Plains).

The next project: a side-by-side tasting of Hodgson and N.C. grits, both sporting a little lard I've got in the fridge and maybe a sprinkling of cheddar cheese. Wonderful, and miles away from that instant crap most of us have had.

Free tours and open house at Jefferson Farms

The Tribune had a story in Thursday's paper about an open house that might be of interest this Saturday.

Residents don’t have to wait until an official opening to check out the farm. A free open house is scheduled Saturday to give the public a sneak peek of the operation. The four-hour event will include demonstrations, hay rides and farming equipment exhibits, Executive Director Rob Myers said.

Jefferson Farms is set to open next year and will:

immerse visitors in contemporary Midwest farming and gardening. Indoor and outdoor exhibits and demonstrations will serve as a year-round attraction for an estimated 30,000 visitors per year.

Jefferson Farm & Gardens will host tours, classes, workshops and special events in addition to regular visitation. Up to 10,000 school children are expected to participate in educational programs each year.

So, not open for real until 2009 but you can get a sneak peak this Saturday. Me? I'll be prepping for porchetta attempt number two. Fingers crossed, folks.

Yeah, what is the deal with fortune cookies, anyway?

The above (hilarious) video has nothing to do with Missouri (unless you count Springfield's claim to American-Chinese food fame, cashew chicken). Still, contemplating why we eat weird little cookies after meals at Chinese restaurants - when the Chinese themselves seem more shocked to find paper in the middle than if they cracked it and a bird flew out* - would be a welcome bit of introspection.

From the writer who penned a story on fortune cookies in China for the NY Times:

Americans find high emotional attachment to the slips inside their cookies, looking to them for winning lottery numbers and becoming upset when the fortunes inside are unfortunate. The Chinese, on the other hand, would often tell me after trying the curved vanilla-flavored wafers, “Americans are so strange, why are they putting pieces of paper in their cookies?”

* Whew, finally worked in an Airplane! reference.

September 4: Tomato Festival and Botanic Garden Tour

The University of Missouri will be hosting its fourth annual tomatofest Thursday, September 4. Events include a tour of the botanic garden, a tour of Bradford Research Farm and a tasting of 50 varieties of tomatoes and 30 peppers. More information here.

Probably not a bad way to load up on vitamins before a long weekend of tailgating and imbibery.

Chinese Wok Express

One of the most reliably tasty and imminently affordable places in Columbia is Chinese Wok Express. It looks dingy from the outside and not much better in (the owner of another one of Columbia's Asian restaurants loves the food at CWE but claims to eat there with eyes closed). No matter, the food is excellent. I generally order from the Vietnamese side of the menu, sticking closely to the noodle bowls (I've found the Chinese platters on the other side of the menu decidedly so-so). The numbers 15 and 17 are personal favorites, and come out with thin rice noodles covered with shaved beef, cucumber, mint, carrot and and lettuce, all of it bathed in a light (lemongrass?) broth. The vegetables are fresh and crunchy and wonderful. Throw a little extra chili sauce and you've got the makings of a perfect summer lunch - even if they're open until 9pm every day but Sunday, when they're closed.

Chinese Wok Express
422 E Broadway
Columbia, MO 65201

(573) 443-5099

IPA and Hefeweizen Tasting

Sycamore was again host to twenty-plus "members" of the eclectic Columbia Beer Enthusiasts group last night. We were a motley crew, with some bringing their excellent homebrews and others (me, for instance) stabbing wildly at Joe's, Top Ten Wines or Patricia's for whatever seems to fit the theme of this month's gathering.

Last night it was IPAs and Hefeweizens and again, I had tasted only three or four of the thirty-odd beers we sampled. In big tastings like this it's usually the outliers I come away remembering. The Calabaza Blanca jumped out immediately. Shockingly dry, it reminded the guy next to me and I of a less-fruity vinho verde wine mixed with club soda. Very different than anything I've had before; kudos to the guy or gal who brought it.

Two others I really enjoyed were:
Dunkels Hefeweizen (from the German brewer Tucher)
Heavy Weizen (from Southern Tier brewery in NY)

The full list of beers tasted is here. The next tasting is September 22 at Sycamore. 9pm. Theme: Scotch, amber and brown ales.

The Butcher Situation

A frequent topic (and generator of much hand-wringing and inferiority complex-having) over at the Tribune's food message board is about the lack of a butcher shop in Columbia. After all, New Franklin has one, why not Columbia? Hell, sleepy old Camdenton has one (plus two excellent fish shops to boot). What's going on here?

The answer is more complicated than I'm willing to take on first thing Monday morning, but suffice it to say this article in the new Esquire magazine did not make me yearn less for a dedicated, stand-alone butcher here in Columbia:

You can ask butchers anything and they will deconstruct your need. Ask for a porterhouse and trust that they will pick through the T-bones to get you a good one. Or ask what a porterhouse is and they will take out a T-bone to explain that if the short-loin portion is a good bit thicker than an inch, it's a porterhouse. Or ask if a porterhouse is what you want in the first place. They'll ask how you're cooking it, what you're serving with it, how much room you have on your cooking surface. They'll find the answer. And whether it's the apron or the smudges of blood or the enormous weight of the counter or the sheer mass of the product, you believe a butcher. He knows.

A man should have a butcher.

Hear, freaking hear.

Mugs Up (or, "Wherein I commit heresy")

Mugs Up is older than the Heidelberg, Harpos and virtually every other Columbia dining spot (can anyone name one that's older?). They've been slinging their signature zips and chili dogs just off of Highway 40 (now Business Loop 70) since 1955. They are as true a Columbia institution as you can get. And here's where I get off track: the sloppy joe "burgers" at Mugs Up? They're really not my bag. And maybe I shouldn't say this, but the root beer tastes a little watery. To me. I know, the ghost of Raymond Kewley is going to visit me in my dreams shortly and open up a can, bigtime. It's just something I'm going to have to deal with.

No, the real reason I go to Mugs Up is for those chili cheese dogs. Sonic, with their absurd, soggy, warmed-over chili monstrosity, is a mess compared to Mugs Up's neat, snappy little dogs. They're fantastic, and I can't eat fewer than two. For those not in the know Mugs Up is behind the Family Table restaurant and across from Parkade Plaza on Business Loop 70. But time's running out to catch them this year; they'll close down for the winter in another month or two.

Mugs Up
603 Orange St.
Columbia, MO
(573) 443-7238