Dear W.A. Frost,

You are a nice restaurant filled with lovely, charming rooms. I especially liked our fireside table on the coldest night of the year. I’ve heard you have a spectacular patio in the gentler months, and I would not mind enjoying a drink on that patio at some point. Your wine list was impressive, if more focused on the $45 bottles than the $25 bottles. Which is fine - if not particularly populist - if the rest of it adds up. Which I thought it would - it all started on a good enough note when we ordered a tasty foie gras terrine (can hardly go wrong with foie gras, I believe) and some scallops that were a fine little appetizers, even with a bit of sand.

However, for a restaurant whose entree menu is priced between $19 and $47 (for the special), you were a HUGE disappointment. You like to position yourself as a romantic and intimate destination restaurant. Last night, you were ‘expense account’ at best. Service: competent but not stellar (fill the wine glasses when you check in!). Food: at one end, competent but boring (shogunmoon did enjoy his duck breast, my visiting sister’s squash ravioli w/ candied pecans was ok). At the other end (in the case of my pappardelle pasta w/ duck ragout) simply unappetizing. Around casa shogun, we call the flavor of old meat ’sweaty’, and this duck could have run a marathon.

In all, the meal was overpriced and uninspired, and I left feeling like you were the restaurant equivalent of a self-satisfied political incumbent who knows that the folks will vote for you again because you’ve always been there and, well, everyone else seems to hold you in high enough esteem.

W.A. Frost - as my pals and I used to say in college - you’re cute enough, but I wouldn’t want to make out with you. Your website says “boldly flavored with an emphasis on fresh ingredients.” I say, “sweaty duck and a general emphasis on ‘meh.’” At least for now, I’m not interested in a repeat visit. Maybe the patio drinks idea will entice at some point, and hopefully then the menu offerings will prove more appealing.

Best of luck to you,
Christie

ps. The good news is, not all venerable St. Paul restaurants appeared to be as boring that night. Later, we had drinks in the bar at the St. Paul Grill, and the chow that was coming out of that kitchen smelled and looked way better. Which should tell you something, considering that we’d just had DINNER. Next time my sister is in town for work and staying at the St. Paul Hotel, that place is totally on the list. Even if we do have to sit across the bar from T-Paw and Norm.

Sometimes fate conspires to bring you to someplace you may not think of otherwise. I few Sundays back, Christie and I were looking for a nice little meal. Thing is, not a lot in Northeast is open Sunday nights. After much hangry deliberation, an idea occurred to me: Muffuletta! It’s a place that is close-ish to our house, but not in a neighborhood we generally think of visiting, beautiful Saint Anthony Park. As an added bonus, the joint has a nice large patio, and this was one those nice pre-mosquito season days that practically beg one to either grill or eat outside somewhere.

Anyway, it turned out to be an awesome experience. First of all, similar to Restaurant Alma, Muffuletta sports a rad small prix fixe called Sunday Night Supper. Starter, entree and dessert for a scant $20. Pretty great. The first surprise was when the waitress brought out a perfect little amuse bouche (’amuse the mouth’- thank you Top Chef), which was a crispy homemade flatbread topped with salmon mousse, just the thing to start the evening. First we ordered bleu cheese and yam croquettes, which were deep fried, sweet, salty and tangy. I took advantage of the Sunday special and ended up with a great looking watermelon and cucumber salad (Yum!), a stuffed chicken breast, and a fantastic flourless chocolate torte. Christie went a la carte, and had a decadent crab puff pastry deal, in addition to having a bowl of the very tasty signature beer cheese soup (and sharing the torte, natch). It was a few weeks ago, so I am loose on the details, but we both have very fond memories - it really feels like one of the best dining experiences we’ve had in awhile. Not just the food, but the attentive but not cloying service, the charming deck and the perfect weather all made it an exceptional experience. And there you have it. Sunday night supper… superior!

In Other News:
So, my first post in a while… I have time again now that my semester just ended. As I am sure my loyal readers (Hi, Mom!) are dying to know, how well did I do? Did they flunk me out due to my lackluster chops in the bakeshop? Hell no! I walk away from semester one with four A’s, one B, and my ServSave sanitation certificate. Woohoo!

-shogunmoon

http://www.muffuletta.com/

Milton Square
2260 Como Avenue
St. Paul, MN 55108
651-644-9116

The Russian Tea Houses is one of those family-run restaurants where they don’t seem to really care if they attract customers or not. Situated amid the fast-food shacks and junk shops on University and Fairview in St Paul’s Midway neighborhood , you probably wouldn’t give the Russian Tea House a second glance. There is really nothing about the nondescript store front or the please-ignore-me style font on the sign that seems to encourage much attention. They also keep insanely minimalist hours: Tuesdays through Fridays, 11-2pm, which seriously limits my ability to eat there. But on the occasions that I do have a day off, as I did this past Friday, I try to make it a point to have lunch there. The menu is as limited as their availability. it consists of piroshkis, pastries that are filled with finely-ground meat and rice, which they describe as a Russian Hamburger; Borscht Soup, a Russian staple made out of beets; cabbage rolls, ground meat and rice wrapped in a large cabbage leaf; and a beef stroganoff served on top of potato dumplings, that is available only on Fridays. The piroshkis are my favorite; warm and doughy. I sometimes eat three in one sitting just to make the most of my time there. I tried the stroganoff for the first time on Friday, and really enjoyed it. The dumplings are similar to the perogis they serve at nye’s. The stroganoff was interesting, not as thick as I am accustom too, almost like a consommé. There is a cozy dining area on the second floor. The second to last time I ate there I was serenaded by a two-man polka outfit, which I have to say is a fairly profound dose of culture for this particular part of the Twin Cities.

Russian Tea House
1758 University Ave W
(651) 646-4144

You wanna take care of a hangover in a hurry? Try your local Punch Woodfire Pizza.

One head splitting day, I went in and ordered myself a Milanese (Roasted red pepper, ham, gorgonzola, and basil) and an Anchor Steam. Let me just say that this delicious little grease puck was perfect in most any way my alcohol addled brain could imagine.

Word to the wise– The Neapolitans are nuts! I tried ordering a pizza “wet” once, and it sucked was not to my taste! Nothing like a pizza with an entire cup of olive oil dumped on it.

Anyhow, Punch? Good stuff.

-shogunmoon

Punch Locations

St. Paul
704 Cleveland Ave. S.
St. Paul MN, 55116

Minneapolis
Calhoun Village Shopping Center
3226 W. Lake Street
Minneapolis, MN 55
612.929.0006

Eden Prairie
Eden Prairie is no place for the living.

So at the end of my Zander Café review the other day, I made a snarky comment taking the management to task for allowing their domain name to lapse. Reader Ellen from Cool on the Hill commented that Alexander Dixon, the head chef & owner of Zander, apparently suffered serious injuries in a fall recently and she suggested that perhaps he should be forgiven for such a minor miscue. So of course, there is nothing to forgive. Here is hoping for a speedy recovery to a man behind some amazing food and an amazing restaurant. My comment was really more an expression of annoyance towards sloppy web management in general.

So as long as I am on the subject, here is a blanket plea to any established, fledgling, or aspiring restaurateurs who don’t have a web presence or have a web presence with incorrect or out-of-date information: Please, please, please, call up that geeky twelve year old in the family, give him or her 50 dollars to throw together a website for you. It really doesn’t have to be fancy. Just something that says “Hi, we are Café Bla Bla, and we are located here, and we are open at these times of the day, and here is a copy of our menu.” That’s all!

I admit that not everyone has a need to look up just what kind of sauce it was exactly that came with their chicken breast just so they can prattle on about it later in a food blog. But, I mean, if I am trying to coordinate happy hour or dinner plans for after work with a friend over instant messaging and they say to me “Hey, what about that new Café Bla Bla place on Wabasha”, and I say “I don’t know, what’s the menu like?” and they say, “Hold on, let me Google it”, if we can’t find a menu, chances are we probably won’t go there. So, in an industry where 4 out 5 businesses fail, why would you want to give me a reason not to come to your restaurant. Just saying.

Encouraged by numerous complimentary reviews, including the Shogun’s review on these very pages, Jessica and I decided to escape the holiday fracas and treat ourselves to a fancy meal at Zander Café; located in the Cathedral Hill neighborhood of St Paul, which, for those of you whose opinion of St Paul has been prejudiced by the soulless spattering of big box retailers on University Avenue, the white bread sterility of Grand & Summit Avenues (Don’t call it Uptown St Paul, unless you want to severely irk the Shogun) and the broken dreams of a commerce ghost town that is Downtown St Paul, Cathedral Hill might change your mind. I love this area. It has a transportive effect, making me feel like I am in a secluded neighborhood in Paris or Montreal. You could easily spend the day here visiting the Minnesota Historical Society and the St Paul Cathedral, throwing a few back at the Muddy Pig or Happy Gnome, stocking up at the Solo Vino wine shop or the Fleur De Lis Flower shop, and sampling homemade Cherry Vodka at Moscow on the Hill.

Anyway, Back to dinner. Illuminated by Christmas lights, The atmosphere at Zander’s is cozy and intimate. We were seated right inbetween the only other occupied tables in the restaurant, which I only noticed because I read beforehand that it happened to these people as well. This could have been highly irritating, but since both parties were house broken and exercised their indoor voices, it was a non-issue. It took kind of a while for our server to greet us and take our drink order. This invoked a phobia that I have developed over the years regarding the service at high-brow restaurants. See, if I am spending 5 dollars on a delicious bowl of Pho Soup at a hole-in-the-wall Vietnamese restaurant, the server could bop me repeatedly in the back of the head with an oven mitt, and I really wouldn’t mind all that much, but one of the caveats of dropping 3 figures on a nice meal is the incredibly high expectations that go along with everything involved, not least of which being the service. This phobia also stems from experiences that occurred in my late teens/early 20’s on the infrequent occasions I would splurge on an expensive dinner. The situation would go down like this: I am seated in swanky restaurant with fellow splurger ready to spend one week’s salary on fancy dinner experience. Tip scavenging waitron takes one look at us in all our slunken youthful glory and thinks to self “Oh great, look at this rabble, they will probably order bread and lemon water and tip me by rounding up the dollar. Maybe if I ignore them for awhile they will just go away.” Little does this server realize that said rabble also works in food service industry and tips well beyond means hoping to keep his own tip-karma meter high. Poor service continues unabated, and I am left with the following quandary. To tip poorly, which would be appropriate for the awful service rendered, but would allow server to feel smug in the fact that to his mind his assumptions were correct, thus leaving the next poor schlep open to the same vile treatment; or, over compensate by tipping well despite awful treatment to “teach server lesson”. I usually opted for the later as I can not abide being the source of anyone’s smugness; this of course does not change the fact that jerk-face server is left with more of my money then he deserves. [/RANT OVER]

So, the server eventually shows up and he is a laid back well intentioned seeming guy and my nerves soften as we order a bottle of the Pinot Grigio and the cheese plate, which was brought out soon after along with a basket of bread. I love cheese plates; there is always something new and amazing to try and they don’t spoil your appetite at all. This one contained a standard issue brie, a Pecorino, which is a savory hard cheese, and a creamy cheddar with mustard seeds which was our favorite. The plate was garnished with julienned pear and apple slices, and some kind of fancy almonds that looked like macadamia nuts. The bread was thin slices of French bread that went well with both the cheese and the whipped sweet butter that it came with.

Jessica and I were both craving beef and were disappointed when we saw that there wasn’t any on the menu. Laid back server guy didn’t mention any specials, but luckily we thought to ask him because the special of the day was a 14 oz pepper encrusted steak. It was a wallet-draining 35 dollars, but we went for it anyway, citing phrases like “you only live once!!” and other such inspirational sayings used to trick oneself into blowing a lot of money on an ephemeral but transcendent experience. Jessica ordered the steak, and since she has a fairly bird-like appetite, I knew I would be getting a nice size chunk of it. This would satisfy both of our cow cravings and free me up to order the mushroom stroganoff which I thought sounded intriguing. The steak was cooked perfectly; medium rare; feral pink in the middle, civilized and spicy on the outside. It was served with whipped potatoes and sweet potatoes in a tasty pan sauce. It hit the spot. I don’t know if it was 35 dollar good, but cost is relative when satisfying a craving. The mushroom stroganoff consisted of 3 varieties of mushrooms, in a sauce made from stock and sour cream. I enjoyed it, it had an earthy nourishing quality that offset the giant chuck of rare meat.

For me, the desert was the most pleasant surprise of the evening. The menu consisted of your usual characters. A flourless torte. A couple odd sounding fruity things. A Crème brûlée, and an assortment of icecream and sorbet. We were both stuffed close to capacity, and we were going to go with the brûlée, thinking it was the lightest thing on the menu, but decided at the last minute to go with the ice cream. Zander’s makes their own ice cream, and on any given night they have 6 or 7 varieties including left-of-center flavors like lavender or roast pepper. You get to select 3 scoops, mixing and matching any way you like. We opted for lavender, cardamom, and vanilla. It came out served in a shallow bowl garnished with various homemade cookies. The ice cream made Häagen-Dazs seem like McDonald’s Soft Serve. I am now highly inspired to go out and buy an ice cream maker which I will use once and then stash in the closet.

Zander Café
523 Selby Av
St Paul, 55102
651-225-8933

http://zandercafe.com/ (Note: since my dining experience there, Zander’s has let their domain name expire either by choice or by negligence. I only bother to mention this because this really irritates me; I mean what is this, 2002?

Nice. Everyone’s favorite food writers, Jane and Michael Stern, were in town early August.

Who are these people? Well, they appear on Lynn Risotto Caper’s “The Splendid Table” as well as in the pages of Gourmet Magazine. These are the people who start almost every one of their segments on The Splendid Table in slow, over dramatized voices with something along the lines of, “Lynn. You. are. NOT. going. to. believe. this. We, found, THEE BEST, hotdog. in New Hampshire.” If it isn’t hotdogs, it’s maple syrup or killer pancakes or some such. The fact that these people have managed to get on the payroll at Gourmet Magazine AND MPR is quite outstanding. I gotta start writing better. I could scour the nation and the world for Thee. BEST. Vietnamese. Food. EVER… mmm.

Anyhow, they went ahead and visited a few places here in Minneapolis, including:

Hell’s Kitchen

Been meaning to get in here, despite it being my least favorite of all “cuisines”- breakfast food. I have heard that it is a) very good breakfast and b) Very expensive. Although I rarely eat breakfast food (unless the wife makes it or I am held at gunpoint), the Hell’s Kitchen take on it looks pretty freaking awesome. I would love to nosh on toast infused with bison sausage, nuts, spice and coffee, mere minutes after waking, for example. One thing I do eat breakfast-wise is Huevos Rancheros… and Hell’s Kitchen looks like the place to get it. Yum.

Convention Grill

No idea. Never heard of it.

Bread & Chocolate

Bread & Chocolate, and its parent Cafe Latte, are the darlings of Grand Avenue in Saint Paul. It makes no sense. First off, they are expensive. Secondly, they pass off super lame foods as some kind of culinary achievment, so that wealthy stay-at-home moms with limited culinary interest feel like they are being adventurous while they sit around and cluck about the safety of their children. You know how Saint Paul has been trying like hell to prove to those of us from Minneapolis that they are not a culinary black hole? These two places are why. If I ran Zander Cafe, I would put this entire intersection to the torch.

Oh, in the interest of full disclosure, many people love the desserts these places conjure up. Hell, I have not set food there in years… maybe it is better now. Still, you can quote me on this one- “Cafe latte sucks.”

Mavericks

No idea about this place either… thank god for the Sterns. They seek our best grease pits so we don’t have to. Looks pretty tasty actually.

Saint Paul people should have something to get super angry about… the address listed says Minneapolis, and it is clearly in Saint Paul! If anyone from Saint Paul sees this, the Sterns best get ready to be careful around the inbox for a few days, because they will probably get excoriated en masse by a cadre of raging Saint Paul apologists. Saint Paul evangelistas are almost as bad as Macintosh fanatics. (Again, with the full disclosure, I am a Mac user.)

Speaking of insane Saint Paulites, I am curious if anyone else in Saint Paul is as confused as the guy we adopted our awesome third cat Flash Gordon from. A few years back, when the wife decided that we needed another cat, she found this cute little grey fellow at Pleading Paws Pet Rescue. So I call for directions, and the following ensues: (Ps, yes that is Flash Gordon, just waking up from a nap on some nice warm laundry.)

“So, where do you live?” asks me.

“We live on Grand, in Uptown.” says dude.

“Ok, cool, that is right near us. North or South of Lake Street?”

“No no, east end of Grand Avenue, Uptown” responds dude.

“Doesn’t Grand Avenue run North - South”

“Grand Avenue in Saint Paul. Uptown, you know?”

“You mean Cathedral Hill right? The eastern part of Grand Avenue?” I grew up in Saint Paul, and I know the city layout better than most.

“Yea, same thing. Uptown.”

At this point, I am perplexed. I have never ever heard of any area in town called Uptown, aside from the traditional Lake and Hennepin area. “Ok, got it. Say, are you from the Twin Cities? When you say Uptown, most people think of, well, Uptown. Calhoun Square and all that.”

“I am from Saint Paul, and I have always called it Uptown.”

Yea, ok wanker. Whatever.

Makes sense I guess, since the guy turned out to be an ad dude, and had a Mac prominently displayed in his apartment. I bet he loves Cafe Latte as well.

-shogunmoon

I like bananas, and I think it is pretty cool that I can walk
into any grocery store and procure a banana, especially since I live in a part
of the world where no amount of science could coax that banana out of the local
florasphere. But it takes a lot of energy to ferry bananas from the tropics into
my smoothie here in Minneapolis, and at a time when the consumption and ever increasing need for energy
is screwing both the environment and geopolitical stability, what is the real
cost of all this variety?  Why are we carting
food all over the planet when there are perfectly good things to eat in our own
backyards?

Well, the short answer is because we like bananas and mangos,
and fine wines from places whose names we can’t pronounce, and all of these
things enrich our lives and enhance our hipster credibility. But in spite of all
that, these courageous folks have decided to try something they call The 100
Mile Diet, in which for one year they will only consume foods that are grown or raised within
a 100 mile radius of their home in Vancouver and document their efforts.

It may sound a bit extreme, but appropriating various aspects
of their concept might not be a bad idea. In addition to the PC karma and local
economy benefits, eating foods that are locally grown is a tenant of the über healthy
Macrobiotic Diet, and are probably better for you in general since they most
likely don’t contain all the pesticides and preservatives that would be
required for a transcontinental journey.