Super Bowl of Cheese

On this Sunday, the most exhaulted victory will not be won on the field at JerryWorld but instead on countertops and coffee tables around the city. The menus for Super Bowl parties run the gamut from pizza and chicken wings to charbroiled oysters and gumbo. But when it comes to cheese and crackers, a deep divide exists as to what local cult favorite you should serve.

We're here to answer that question once and for all. Allow me to introduce the two cheeses that will battle it out for Super Bowl Sunday glory.

Better Cheddar

• Made By -  Langenstein's
• Ingredients - White Cheddar Cheese, Mayo, Walnuts & Seasonings
• Cost - $8.99/lb
• Texture - The cheese is ground, which produces a dense but still creamy spread. Nuts are more noticeable than in its competitor.
• Overall - Classic and delicious.

Thunder Cheese

• Made By - Canseco's
• Ingredients - None listed, but upon further examination we see white and cheddar cheese, presumably mayo, nuts, and green onions
• Cost - $6.99/lb
• Texture - The cheese is finely shredded, so the spread is lighter than Better Cheddar and easily scooped with chips or crackers. The ratio of mayo to cheese also seems to be higher.
• Overall - New kid on the block makes you think that it may be time for a change.

And the Winner is...

You tell us. We didn't put up the poll in the lefthand corner for nothing.

Weekend Roundup

With the NFL taking a breather before the Super Bowl, this weekend is flush with events for music lovers, beer nerds, and chocoholics, plus an opportunity for you to enjoy a fine meal and support an admirable non-profit organization at the same time. Here's the rundown.

Tonight, OffBeat Magazine hosts this year's Best of the Beat Awards Party at Generations Hall. The talent on stage includes the likes of Deacon John, Ivan Neville's Dumpstaphunk, and more. Besides all of the music, the price of admission also includes an impressive spread from local restaurants, including Besh Steakhouse, Martinique Bistro, and The Joint. Tickets are $29 in advance and $39 at the door.

On Saturday, Dan Stein is celebrating his own version of Festivus with the 3rd Annual Beer Day. All day long, Stein's Deli will be pouring free samples of its beers for sale and marking down all purchases of beer by 10%. Additionally, homebrewing expert Derek Lintern will be brewing up a few batches of a Belgian-style double and oak vanilla stout.


And there will be no resting on Sunday with a full day's worth of fun:

• Starting at 1:00 at The Avenue Pub, Aaron Hyde of Brewstock will be teaching a free class on homebrewing basics.
• Local public television station WYES will be hosting its Chocolate Sunday celebration at Harrah's Theatre. This event features over 50 local chocolatiers, bakeries, and restaurants doling out samples of all things chocolate. The 2 hour event begins at 3:00, but VIP ticketholders gain access at 2:00. Ticket are available online and range in price from $30 to $50.
• On Sunday night, Chef Adolfo Garcia and Rio Mar are hosting "Mixing Up Some Magic", a special dinner to benefit Liberty's Kitchen, a non-profit dedicated to transforming the life of at-risk youth through life skills taught in a culinary setting. The 3 course menu featuring Gulf seafood sausage, herb roated lamb shoulder, and roasted pear cake costs $75 per person inclusive of wine, tax, and tip. Reservations must be made online.

And, of course, if you have a hankering for a hamburger when Sunday night rolls around, you know where to go.

First Look: Mimi's

Granted, Mimi's in River Ridge is not a new restaurant, but they have recently brought in Chef Pete Vazquez to run the kitchen. Vazquez's menus showcase a rustic, gutsy style of cooking that touches the cuisines of the Mediterranean and Southern Asia as guideposts. This is adventuresome eating, with rewards for those who make the journey.

Before we went last week (Lindsay went for lunch a few weeks ago), I spoke with Todd Price who wrote a wonderful piece on Vazquez a few weeks back. Price is also an expert in martial arts, syntax, and the consolidation of power by Pope Julius II over Italian City-States. But I wasn't interested in those things. I wanted to know what dishes would best reflect Vasquez's cooking. The answer was simple, "Go with the most non-mainstream item. That is where Pete's heart can be found."

Shortly after seating the waiter brought by a popcorn sweetbread on top of a truffled aioli. Nothing about this dish could have been improved. The sweetbreads were tender, the coating crisp and greaseless, and the aioli thick and rich.

The perfection of fried food continued with the calamari with three dipping sauces. Now, normally calamari are served in ringlets which must be precisely fried or else they become tough and rubbery. These calamari were served in long thin strips, cut from the steak of the squid. The interior of the calamari fingers was fluffy in texture and dynamite in flavor. Of the three dipping sauces, the salsa verde provided the best contrast with its herbaceous vinegar notes marrying with the sweet, salty calamari. The bagna cauda and the aioli did not interest nearly as much. The leaves of fried sage were a very welcome touch, adding a woody forest flavor to this seafood staple.

Escargot so often gets lumped in with a pound of melted butter, some parsley, and heaps of garlic. Now there is nothing wrong with that, but there isn't much special about it either. For his escargot dish, Vazquez cooks the snails in a fragrant broth of tomatoes studded with bacon. He then wraps this mixture around a thin sheet of pasta that has been infused with fresh green herbs for a sort of free form ravioli. It is delicious and like traditional escargot leaves you with a great sauce to mop up with bread.



Salads have become the step-child of dining. I want a cold, crisp lettuce, a well-made dressing, and a few other additions to make it interesting. I don't want it to be big, just a few bites as a refresher between courses. The Caesar at Mimi's wasn't bad, but it wasn't good either. The greens were lukewarm and flaccid and the dressing veered more towards a thousand island than a Caesar. Maybe this is why I stopped ordering salads.

Lindsay ordered by far the best course of the night, a housemade pasta tossed in olive oil, chili pepper, and herbs topped with a housemade boudin noir. The richness of the pork blood fueled sausage played lead baritone with the chili and herbal notes providing a solid percussion line... what the hell am I talking about? Just feast your eyes on this.



Now is where I am reminded of Price's sage advice. I ordered the Tre Carne, a selection of three meats for those of you not fluid in Italian. The meatball on the left of the plate sat on top a polenta cake and was covered in a marinara sauce too salty for me. The meatball however, was pure glory - soft, flavorful, and rich without being dense. I imagine the meatball was slowly convinced into its form and then coddled into a warm bath to poach for several hours. Such would be the only way to get a meatball that tender.

The Italian sausage sitting on a bed of peppers was fine enough, but I wished there would have been a more pronounced anise flavor in the sausage. The ragu with polenta cake was a complete disaster starring an overly reduced sauce, way too much sauce, and a gloppy, flavorless polenta. But that meatball more than made up for all of those misgivings.

Dessert came and was a stunning example of a creme brulee with a glassy top and thick custard. Only problem was we were sold on it being a satsuma flavored creme brulee and try as we might, could not find any evidence of that sweet, Louisiana treasure in this dessert.

A few mignardises, the chocolate truffles were decadent, the toffee less so, a bottle of wine, and we left very happy and eager to return. But next time, I am listening to Price and sticking with the obscure, the offbeat, the exciting. I suggest you do the same.

Mimi's
10160 Jefferson Hwy.
737-6464

Beef Stew (Bo Kho)

When the weather turns a bit chilly like it is today, my stomach and soul immediately begin to crave a hot, comforting bowl of beef stew. Last year, Cochon Butcher stole my heart on multiple occasions with its version of tender, bite size morsels of beef and potato in a rich, smooth stock with just a hint of red wine in the background.

Unfortunately, I have not once seen Butcher offer its beef stew as a special during this winter season. WTF?!?!

Vietnamese restaurants serve their own version of beef stew, and it's called bo kho. While bo kho includes both beef and carrots just like your momma uses, the beef stock and tomato base is augmented with Vietnamese spices like clove, anise, and ginger. The starch component of bo kho comes in the form of either noodles in the bottom of the bowl or a couple of toasted loaves of banh mi to be dunked into the stew. The finest exemplar of bo kho that I have tasted comes from Tan Dinh, which uses multiple curries to create an intoxicating and delicious gravy. I used to be high on Pho Tau Bay's version, but I was served a tepid and watered down bowl on my last visit.

Unfortunately, the stew meat in Tan Dinh's bo kho is frustratingly tough and served in large chunks which cannot be pulled or bitten off into more manageable pieces. If the gravy was not so delicious, I wouldn't bother. Your best solution is to not be shy and take advantage of the fork and knife graciously brought out by your server.

I have requested a substitution of duck for beef in the past, but the waitress shot me down. One augmentation I have been allowed though is to add beef tendon to the stew, which may have been the greatest idea since Al Gore invented the internet.

The Paris Dispatches: New Year's Eve

Maybe I am a pessimist, but New Year's Eve is always a let down. In fact, I may have given you very clear instructions a few months ago about why you should avoid restaurants at all costs on December 31st. Obviously, I should listen to myself.

To start, it was New Year's Eve in Paris, which we were incredibly fortunate to experience. That day Lindsay and I wondered throughout the Left Bank. We purchased a few books from Shakespeare & Co. We ate ice cold oysters that tasted as if you got saltwater in your nose at the beach when a wave crashed over you. Those oysters were simply fantastic, especially with a bottle of Muscadet, salted butter, and mignonette sauce.  We stopped at Le Baron Rouge for more oysters and white wine before stocking up on supplies to make beef bourguignon on New Year's Day.

It was a day that makes you want to move to Paris immediately.

Then we went to dinner. La Ferme Saint-Simon was recommended to Lindsay's mother by the apartment rental agency as a "charming bistro where one can eat some wonderful French food and sip wine within a stone's throw of the Eiffel Tour."

Let's start with the amuse. What arrived was a cocktail glass with a beige colored mousse of chicken liver the texture and temperature of which resembled a cold pudding served to inmates. On top of this sat a piece of chocolate, which when you bit into it gushed forth more of the chicken liver. At this point the champagne had just started to re-kick in so we all figured, "Let's just keep quiet for now."

Then came an insult to heavy eating ducks and truffle hunters everywhere. This terrine of foie gras with a truffled center caused an audible gasp at the table. The foie had not been emulsified properly and was chewy. The large sphere of foie had the effect of dominating some bites, while being absent in the majority of them. The small scoop of apricot jelly did not go nearly far enough to soothe the fattiness and richness of the foie gras. This was overkill.

What came out next was even more baffling. It looked like a prawn had transformed into a spaceship and was hurtling Klingons towards a gate in the Fifth Element. Don't believe me? Look for yourself.

That is allegedly a prawn stuffed with seafood and scallops on top of a carpaccio of scallops with a cinnamon tuile. Trying to use a knife and fork to dissect this creature proved useless. "OK, how do you eat this thing?" asked Lindsay's brother. We all took different tacts. Lindsay upended the Prawnlenuim Falcon and focused on the scallop carpaccio. I tried to remove the stuffing, which smelled like old socks, and focus on the sweet meat of the prawn. Lindsay's brother just ate the tuile. Her dad mostly attacked it like it was a mess of unruly weeds. Lindsay's mom had the best approach and just ignored it and drank more Champagne.

At this point, I was reminded of reading Virgil in Latin III and his epic line, "Someday you will look back and laugh at all of this."

Then came a dessert so heinous and offensive, it is amazing the French haven't striked over it. A green dome surrounded by pastel colored macaroons, a spun sugar crown fit for an alien princess, a globe of olive colored ice cream and a smear baby shit green. But trust me on this, it tasted much worse than it looked. If the flavor inspiration for the dish was rotting seaweed on the beach at low tide, the chef hit it out of the park.

After dinner we wandered over to the Eiffel Tour expecting at least fireworks. We found instead crowds, cheap bottles of sugary sparkling wine, and a father-son team of bagpipers. All in all it was a New Year's Eve none of us could ever forget. And isn't that the point?

Tracey's: Same Old Taste in a Bright New Setting

In New Orleans, we tend to champion longevity and frown upon change. However, there are times when circumstances beyond our control leave us no choice but to adjust and to adapt. Time has taught us that change can be a good thing as long as we don't leave behind those values which are most important to us. Though we may have gone kicking and screaming, the end result sometimes leave us better off than we were before.

Case in point, Tracey's. Remember back in August when everyone was lamenting the plight of Jeff Carreras after his beloved Parasol's was sold from underneath him? Instead of wallowing in self pity, Jeff recognized that what made Parasol's was the food and the staff, so scooped up both, found a better location just a few blocks away, and opened up an improved version of his former po-boy shop. Let that be a lesson to us all in accepting and triumphing over adversity.

In terms of ambience, Parasol's and Tracey's could not be more different. Where Parasol's was simply a dark, old neighborhood bar, Tracey's is roomy and bright with plenty of natural light. The loft ceilings and double doors that open out onto Magazine Street make this a great place to enjoy nice weather like today's, and the numerous flat screens along the walls elevate the bar to one of the city's best places to catch a game.

While the surroundings may have changed, the food tastes exactly the same as it did at Parasol's. The signature roast beef is the same shreds and chunks of beef in a thick gravy. I have always been a Parkway loyalist when it comes to roast beef, but I still enjoy digging into one of these from time to time. Fried shrimp are average in size, but the crustaceans sometimes shed their outer coating. Po-boys are still served as a one-size-fits-all. A bag of Zapp's is still your best choice of side dish, and you better order two bags because the wait can sometimes stretch longer than you think.

One Saturday afternoon while we were lunching at a table outside on the sidewalk, a man walked by and huffed in disgust at the 20 person line forming inside. "Where did all of these people come from?" was his rhetorical question to us. After a few moments of contemplation, he smilingly resolved to wait his turn, took his place in line, and said, "Well, I guess it's better than waiting in line at Parasol's."

Tracey's - Par/Birdie

2604 Magazine Street

7 days per week

Mad Libs Valentine's Contest

Valentine's Day is coming up, which means every food blog in America is going to give you seductive recipes, aphrodisiac appetizers, and ideas for dining out. Not us. We want to craft the most amazing Valentine's Day guide of all time and we need your help. To accomplish this, we are going to play a game of Mad Libs.

The rules are simple: Either leave your answers in the comments or email them to us. We pick the top 6 Valentine's Mad Lib stories, and you vote on your favorite. The top 3 stories win prizes from Sucre's Valentine's Day Selections.

1st Place - An I Love You Gift Box filled with a Medium For the Love of Chocolate Collection, a Large Box of Sweetheart Macaroons, Handmade Vanilla Marshmallows, and a Rose Petal & Pistachio Bar.

2nd Place - Sweetheart Macaroons and a Heart Shaped Box of Chocolates

3rd Place - For the Love of Chocolate Box

Why Mad Libs?

True story. The Blackened Out twins met in 8th grade English class at Jesuit High School. Mr. Powers used Mad Libs to presumably make sure everyone understood the difference between a gerund, noun, and adverb. Being that we were all 13 and 14 years old, these exercises usually devolved into sentences that read thusly "The fat, bloated pumpkin farted across the frozen turd." Now that you know where our humor resides, let's play.

Here they are:
1) Noun, Proper
2) Noun, Plural
3) Adjective
4) Noun
5) Action Verb
6) Noun, Plural
7) Name of Book
8) Adjective
9) Place
10) Noun
11) Verb
12) Noun
13) Adjective
14) Noun, Plural
15) Adverb
16) Adjective
17) Adjective
18) Noun
19) Noun
20) Proper Noun

You have two weeks to submit your responses. Voting will begin on February 7th with the winners announced on the 11th.

Country Style Boneless Pork Ribs

Hey, guess what is coming up soon?

Nope, not Mardi Gras. And the Super Bowl has been canceled. But you there in the back, you are correct. Hogs for the Cause, the premier porkcentric cancer fighting charity is back and bigger than ever on March 26th at City Pork. Sign up your team today, you can win the adoration of millions.

To prep yourself for Hogs, how about two months worth of pork related recipes? You got it.

Braised Country Style Pork Ribs in Tomatillo Sauce

You probably see these in the supermarket all the time. Sometimes they are called country style ribs, other times boneless ribs. Fact is they are made out of pork and they are flipping delicious when braised in a sultry blend of chiles and tomatillos.

I want you to roast some peppers and tomatillos under a broiler until their skins darken and blister. I use one jalapeno and two serranos. Make sure to husk and rinse the tomatillos. Once you can handle the peppers, remove the stems, skin, and seeds. Toss the fruit of the peppers into a blender with the tomatillos, a tablespoon of chopped white onion (you will use the rest of the chopped onion in a moment), and a garlic clove. Add in a bit of water or stock to get the blender going. Puree until smooth. (I learned this trick from Skip Bayless's brother's incredible Mexico: One Plate at a Time.) Add the juice of one lime and stir.

I want you take that pack of boneless pork ribs and cut them into cubes. Now season them with salt and pepper. In a cast iron skillet or dutch oven, heat a 5 second glug of canola oil. When shimmering, add the cubes (do this in batches). Brown well on each side and remove. Do the next batch until all pork has been seared. Drain any excess fat. Add the remainder of your onion and saute for five minutes, scraping up all that delicious fond from the bottom of your pot.

Pour the green chile puree mixture into the pan, add a cup of stock, and return the pork to the pan. Stir to combine and then place, covered*, in a 275 degree oven for about 2 hours. Serve over yellow rice with a crisp green salad.

*When I braise things, I like to use a piece of parchment paper to cover over the food, a technique outlined in The French Laundry Cookbook. Many ways to do this, but the easiest is probably just to cut out a piece of parchment slightly smaller than the circumference of your pot. Then cut out a small section in the middle of this circle. Place over food.

Fausto's

The Pope has steered me wrong many times in life. Starting back in pre-K, he would use his stature as one of the "big kids" to get his way on the playground, usually at the expense of the rest of us. In high school, he would encourage me to wait till the last possible moment to leave a party in order to make it home in time for curfew, and then when it became clear that I had waited too long, he would say: "Dude, you're going to be late already. Why not just stay out all night?" We won't even delve into the college years.

Yet, for some strange reason, I often blindly follow The Pope's guidance still to this day. For example, for the past few years, The Pope has been recommending that we try Fausto's for affordable Italian fare. The Folk Singer and I finally made it to Fausto's last week, and I all I can say is that The Pope has kept his losing streak alive.

Fausto's is an old school, neighborhood Italian restaurant specializing in red gravy and classic Sicilian dishes. If the Italian murals on the wall didn't give this trait away, then just listen to the woman at the next table say to her daughter: "Put ya napkin on ya lap. Ya don't wanna get tomatuh gravy on ya shirt." Many of the diners are obviously regulars, the duration of their patronage is evident by their age and their level of devotion by how they interact with the wait staff. Friendly service is definitely Fausto's greatest attribute.

Meals begin with complimentary breadsticks plucked straight from the freezer, baked in the oven till soft, and covered in a heavy shower of parmesan. These reminded me of the cafeteria in my freshman year dorm. Most entrees are served with a side of angel hair pasta topped (not tossed like the menu says) with marinara tasting not much more than canned crushed tomatoes with a little added sweetness.

Veal Parmesan was a thin cutlet with a rubbery texture. Chicken Sorrentino was one of those dishes where you take the first bite and think, "Wow. This is awful." The description reads as: "Chicken breast with layers of eggplant and mozzarella, flamed with marsala and mushrooms." OK, I like all of those things. Unfortunately, the chicken was tough and eggplant component indiscernible. The marsala was thick, brown, and sweet enough to act as a convincing stand-in for a bad version of teriyaki from that Chinese place in the Lakeside Mall food court. I have never seen The Folk Singer use a salt shaker so vigorously, but that was her only viable option to salvage the dish.

With the kitchen going 0-4 through the first 2 courses, we almost ordered dessert to give Fausto's one last chance. But as soon as we saw the sauce-covered, thin slices of bread pudding delivered to the next table, we decided that enough was enough.

The Folk Singer declared this her worst meal in New Orleans, and she couldn't remember even having a "worst meal" before this. I can't say that I disagree with her. It's tough to bestow a double bogey upon a restaurant after only one visit, but I don't think that we will be returning to Fausto's anytime soon.

Fausto's Bistro - Bogey/Double Bogey
530 Veterans Blvd.
833-7121
Lunch Mon-Thur. Dinner Mon-Sat.

The Paris Dispatches: Chez Michel

Montmartre is a disgusting place. The most prized attraction of this hilled area of Paris is Sacre Coeur. The white walled basilica has a commanding view of all of Paris - a commanding view, that is, if it is not overcast and gray. Plus you have to walk up a considerable amount of steps to enjoy the view, and leading up to those steps are streets filled with 5 Euro sandwiches, t-shirts, souvenirs, and hucksters. As you get closer to the church, dark skinned emigres from Africa, ask, "My friend, let me show you something." They then quickly try to braid a friendship bracelet on your wrist.

It is enough to make anyone from New Orleans feel right at home.

Following this excursion, we walked down streets lined with shops selling fabrics of every shade in huge spools. This turned into streets lined with shops selling dresses, colorful tuxedos, and hats. Then a turn down a small street brought us to Chez Michel. Chez Michel may have been our best meal in Paris.

Cozy and inviting, the interior of Chez Michel was nautical in theme with wood paneling and sturdy wood posts. At one point the chef brought out a balsa wood bucket filled with blue green lobsters to show off to a tableful of eager diners. The cuisine at Chez Michel was rustic and marked at this time of year by wild game and truffles. Not that there is anything wrong with that.

To start the waiter brought out a bowl of cold snails, sharp mustard, and warm bread. I think you can piece together what you do with all three of those. This was a great way to start a meal.

We ordered half our meal off the black chalkboard, guessing and using google to roughly translate what the menu items were. I started with an on the menu item of little biscuits topped with St. Malo cheese and a salad. (What? I was trying to eat healthy.) Lindsay began with a very simple sounding tartine de pate de campagne foie gras. What arrived was an 8 inch loaf of crusted bread smeared with foie gras and gilded by black truffles. A side salad just seemed like a dare.

For my main, a tender shoulder of veal braised in a milk and tarragon sauce with baby leaks, carrots, and mushrooms. Utterly amazing, the milkiness of the veal and the milk had blended into a harmonious bite. The punchy tarragon and vegetables provided a connection back to the roots of good cooking.

Lindsay got more adventurous and was equally rewarded with her braised pheasant, buckshot included, in a rustic stew strewn with carrots and laced with brandy. At one point Lindsay picked up a portion of the pheasant and asked me, "What do you think this is?" I responded the leg with confidence. Until Linsdsay noticed her hand was clasping the beak of the bird. The rich gaminess of the pheasant went especially well with the bottle of Morgon on the table.
 

 

The meal wrapped up with two equally impressive dishes. One was a cheese platter, which arrived at the table as a large piece of slate festooned with six globes of different Normandy cheeses, some raisin studded bread, and a bowl of honey. I was instructed to take as much cheese as I liked, which is a bit like telling a child he can take as much candy as he wants. The dessert on the table was a masterful chocolate and coffee cake with a texture more resembling a pudding than a cake. It was light, but dense in chocolate flavor, if that makes any sense. 

The whole meal had a dreamy quality to it. After the disappointment of Montmartre, our expectations were naturally diminished. Then we sat down in the tiny corner front bistro on the Rue Belzunce and we let Paris come to us in a succession of refined rustic cuisine and red wine. It was enough to make anyone feel at home.

Day of Rest

We hope that everyone is enjoying their MLK holiday. For the rest of the you who (like us) are back at work today, at least you can take solace in the fact that the Falcons lost over the weekend.

Last night was another busy and successful night for MVB, and we thank everyone who braved the long line - hopefully the burger was worth the wait. To those of you who were turned away because we sold out, we apologize and hope that you come again. Next week we will be preparing more specials and more burgers so that hopefully no man or woman will be denied their Sunday fix.

We'll be back tomorrow with our regularly scheduled program.

Restaurant Madrid

In this month's issue of OffBeat, we take a look at Restaurant Madrid. Located in a building that once housed one of the many mini-marts that would sell us beer during high school, Madrid offers a taste of Spain from the idyllic comforts of Lakeview. Our assessment of Madrid is much in line with our general opinion on Spanish food in New Orleans - for best results, stick with the tapas/appetizers. A thick, custardy torta, a bowl of lamb meatballs fragrant with mint, and a BYO bottle of Vina Tondonia makes for a nice meal at Madrid. Check out our full review by clicking here.

We usually like to include a picture with our OffBeat articles, but the low lighting at Restaurant Madrid does not present the most opportune setting for food photography. So instead we offer you a picture from Peter's summer excursion with The Pope to the City of Madrid back in 2009.* That's La Papa there on the left in Plaza Mayor. His identity has been protected by a plate of jamon, which was omnipresent at the table during their Iberian adventure.

And as you can see from the photo, The Pope has not matured much since our days in high school when we had no choice but to buy beer from the mini-mart.

* To read more about their musings in Madrid, Porto, Lagos, and Lisbon, click here.