Super Mister Potato Head

Tater Tots! (I ordered mine well done...)

Tiny fried crispy friends! Reminiscent of grade 4! Tater tots, in the able hands of the staff at the Waterfront location of Bar Louie, are as surprisingly great eats as were some of the other offerings we enjoyed from this little chain restaurant's kitchen. Some, not so much... but definitely not BAD, well priced, and right across from the movie theatre.

seriously?

I know that I have custom of disdain for chain restaurants, but this was decent.

seriously!

I had a black cherry mojito - which is actually more of a blackberry mojito. It was tasty but seemingly ethanol-free. T enjoyed a traditional mojito and was surprisingly buzzed after about 1/8th of it. So, ymmv. Fresh blackberries made mine tasty, though. Don't tell my mother, but I kinda pounded it, and still, nuthin.

For my main course, I ordered a "small plate" of pot roast sliders. Now, I do have a small gripe here - two, actually. gripe #1: these aren't sliders - they're a smallish sandwich on some weirdly mushy shite bread that has been cut into four pieces. gripe #2: the meat is supposed to be accompanied by horseradish mashed potatoes. Fascinatingly, this is yet another of the burgh's missing ingredients - no horseradish. As I have said before, kids, the nose knows. And horseradish is an easy one. So, the sliders were ok - a lot of bread, little meat, bland-ish flavor from the mysteriously missing horseradish, but the meat itself was tender, fat fully rendered out, and good if not stingy in portion.

BUT

I got a side of tater tots.

Which is precisely what you should do if you find yourself down at the waterworks and want a drink and salty snack. Definitely the finest iteration of this Reagan-era school lunch vegetable that I have ever seen. I suspect they're high temp deep friend to crispy perfection, and then dusted with a spice-salt mix that smells like it contains dehydrated tomato, black pepper, and I am not sure what else. Nummy. Crispy. Infantile. $3.50 bought more than two diners could down - we managed less than half. And no hair nets and lunch ladies. No detention if you throw 'em. But I wouldn't waste this junk food nirvana.

Just for completeness, T had a BBQ chicken pizza. I dislike chicken on pizza, it just bugs me. Oddly, not one but ALL except the sole vegetarian pizza have chicken as a topping! Not really a pizza, more of a squishy flatbread. Sauce was a little sweet. But T liked it overall, although he noted dough was soft and too fluffy and would have fallen into a heap if he hadn't cut and eaten it with a knife and fork.

Summary judgments for the Waterworks location of Bar Louie: ok for the price and location. Service was pleasant and efficient, drinks were tasty but inconsistent in potency, food was ok except for mystery ingredients and lousy job done in every iteration of bread. BUT a bright shining beacon of goodness, hope and youth would bring me back - go there for tater tots and beer. Seriously.

Cheesy and Wet (or, the Soggy Bloggy)

No, kids. I am not referring to a porno about tacky young things from Boca Raton. "Cheesy and wet" is the best way I can summarize the experiences that I have had at Pizza Sola (along the border of East Liberty and Shadyside) Which is sad, since it is pretty near to my apartment, the space is tidy and bright, the service is friendly, and the guy stretching dough in the window makes you think you are in for a treat.

but.

the thing is...

it is cheesy and wet.

Seriously, that dough looks perfect. But it gets overmoistened, undercooked, and ruined.

What I mean is this: there is too much cheese (something which I did not believe could be possible), and the result is that the pizza is extremely soggy. I have eaten at Pizza Sola three times. One heads up - all three times I had to add salt to my pizza, which may have had some magical hygroscopic effect and produced the deluge. So, maybe the "Hodgedonality" was my fault. In which case, instead I will criticize that the pizza, especially the sauce, is pretty to look at, but flavorless. Kinda like an ex (or six) of mine. Ahh, the "chain of fools" as a girlfriend of mine once said.

but I digress.

The first time, we ordered a whole pie, classic in style, with some veg toppings. Summary: smelled good, looked pretty, wound up tasting kinda dull, undercooked in the middle, and soggy..

Second time. I had a slice. This was plain cheese-n-sauce, reheated in the oven, selected from a wide array of gargantuanly sized, generously topped slices. This was the best pizza I had from Pizza Sola, which I have come to believe is for two reasons: 1) It was simple and lightly covered and 2) it was cooked twice, thereby preventing that dastardly undercooked and soggy center.

The third try was the tie-breaker, and sadly, we won't be going back. This time we ordered a ricotta and sausage pie (we tried something without red sauce since the prior two times I found the sauce to taste rather flat and simple. If you need a taste, you can whip up something similar at home by combining Campbell's condensed tomato soup, undiluted, with dried oregano and maybe two drops of household vinegar. Mangia!). We watched a sturdy young surfer-dude hand stretch a perfect orb of smooth white-flour dough into a lovely disk of pizza potential. It was topped and took a ride in the oven. It smelled luscious. It was served to us promptly by a friendly server. We waited a long moment. And then served it up. One taste...

and it was cheesy and wet.

soggy.

squishy.

and needed a horse-lick of salt. shocking!

I didn't manage to eat even one slice. I was so bummed out, since I love cheese (no secret) and had just had the life shattering discovery that, yes indeedy, you really can have too much of a good thing.

To make matters worse, that good thing had pissed all over my dinner. Only sorta figuratively. See for yourself.

Summary judgment for Pizza Sola: hard to wreck a pizza. They wrecked it 2 out of 3 times. Upshot: nice spot, nice service, and the dough guy is doing his job. Downside: flat flavors and moisture management issues. While it is still pizza (can't be all that bad, right?), it is pricy stuff when my neighborhood corner pizza joint is half the price, more consistent, and quite a lot better. Alas, Pizza Sola won't be my one and only. Looks pretty, though. Noneless, after three dates, Pizza Sola is out. Join the chain, my friend.

Pittsburgh is Pizza

(sing along now, everyone!)...you are what you swallow, so the next time you feel hollow, don't fill up with just any kind of treat! This goes for every kid or six-foot ath-e-lete, what you really are is what you eat! (wahoo!)

Am I the only one who remembers the little singing paleolithic Spongebob dude who would sing little songs about nutrition between Saturday morning cartoons?

If you believe the cartoon dude upstaging Picture Pages with Bill Cosby, then you know that you are what you eat. From the myriad signposts, awnings, restaurants, menus, bars, and outposts offering pizza, I can say one thing with confidence: Pittsburgh is Pizza. At least more than a little bit.

(My hometown is a pizza loving place, too, so I enjoy this)

But, while there are many decent pies available near me, I am not yet in love. Can anyone suggest what the best pizza in town might be, and why? I don't need anything fancy or whatnot, just great crust, with great sauce, and great cheese, cooked with greatness. And I am not into deep-dish. Just a preference thing. It is still pizza, which makes it not bad, but I prefer a lighter crisper texture.

Tomorrow, if I finish other things and get moving on stuff in my real life: a review of Pizza Sola. The truncated version: tried it three times, didn't love it.

a little review of a little bistro: Legume.

Highs and Lows. Magic Meat & Pork Salad.

I had a mixed experience at Legume a little while ago. I loved the space - small, intimate, familial and unpretentious. I loved the service - the hostess greeted me by name when I walked in with my party (wow!), and the waiter was informative-but-not-snotty, prompt-but-not-pushy, and seemed like a nice guy in general. The food, however, was a mixed bag.

I will start by saying that I thought that only one of the two appetizers we ordered was worth eating, and that the portions for both were very small for the price. In a town where nearly everything is supersized, I can appreciate a degree of restraint. However, I would typically imagine that two apps to be shared among four people is more than enough to start a meal. In this case, they were both smallish. We ordered a fig and fruit and cheese dish that was tasty and bright, albeit simple. It was fine but unspecial, but (and as a general theme for our entire experience at Legume), the ingredients really shined.

The second app was what I can only describe as a ham salad. Pork rillette turned into toast points containing what tasted like Hellman's mayonnaise diluted with bits of unseasoned canned ham. Like, the kind wrapped in paper with a little devil on the package... Blech. I hated it and felt like I was being served an attempt at recycling a bad leftover. I think I actually spat it into my napkin. Just not worth the effort to chew it.

So I was kinda feeling bummed and unenthusiastic when my entree arrived.

Good thing that it cheered me right up, as the wafting earthy smell of butter and mushrooms and thyme rose from the enormous bowl of steaming goodness set before me and defrosted my critical little soul.

I was served a house-made wide noodle with braised Kobe beef. The fatty marble of the meat had fully rendered away during the long cooktime and yielded an amazingly soft, aromatic, soul-warming treat atop the flavorful and rustic pasta. The pasta was toothy, buttery, and just plain good. The sauce was simple, homey and mild, and the vegetables (mostly mushrooms) were tender and tasty. I think it is a real trick to turn a one-bowl meal of comfort food into a gourmet experience, but Legume did it in a way that felt effortless with this one. A winner.

(and it reheated very nicely the next day, the serving was too big for me to finish as the dish is quite rich and hearty. I added a touch of beef stock, tossed it in a skillet, heated it all through, and served it over some parsnip puree with a micro-poached egg on top. The kind of brunch meal that makes you just feel nourished in a genuine way. nummy!)

A salad of lovely mixed greens and a tangy dressing rounded out the meal, I was too full to enquire about desserts. Wine was b.y.o.b. which I loved.

All in all, I liked Legume, I loved the space and the service, and I would go back. Next time, I'll skip the apps and order dessert. If you try it, I hope you'll let me know how it went. And if you see this tiny girl taking mental notes in this tiny bistro, be sure to say, "hi." Legume is that kind of a friendly place, perfect for a cold night with friends.

The (new) Red Room Can Bite Me.

Patchwork Couscous? Seriously?

When I was in college, I had the unfortunate sensory experience of having to learn to avoid a Tufts specialty referred to artfully on the weekly menu as “patchwork rice.” For those of you uninitiated, let me explain - Patchwork rice, as it was called, is the nasty result of unartful food recycling, and appeared in dining halls as dinner on Friday nights. Conveniently, you can make it yourself at home: simply save the leftovers from your dinner plate from Monday through Thursday. On Friday, nuke up some instant Uncle Ben's and then toss in the aforementioned scraps. Salt, pepper, lemon juice to taste. Et Viola! Patchwork Rice!

Why am I starting with such a luscious recipe?

Because I was served patchwork couscous at the Red Room. And it was not good. I never would have thought that the lunch ladies at Tufts (hey chickie chickie... ya wanna chickie chickie?) could one-up the new chef (my Pittsburgh food-crush, Kevin Sousa, has moved on to a new project) at The Red Room, but when it comes to the side dish served to me from the new, as-yet unpublished menu (more on that in a sec), along with my overcooked seared Ahi and 4 mushrooms (yup, count 'em, four)... well, the ladies in hairnets may have won that one.

So, here's how it went down:

I made a reservation for the Red Room as I was doing a little entertaining for work, since previously it was my favorite restaurant here in the burgh. We arrived at 6:30 p.m. Despite the fact that the dining room was near-empty (two other tables were seated) and the entire bar area was empty, we waited to be seated. Once seated, the hostess/waitress explained that “there are many new changes to the menu” but did not share (although when I saw the food I new it at once) that there is a new chef. She then rattled off essentially that the ENTIRE menu was changed or unavailable. Well, except for the Wagyu. Being that they had only 2 appetizers that they were actually serving, I asked if we could order off the happy hour app menu - and was told, rudely, that, “oh no. We never serve happy hour food in the dining room...” Only, since this is Pittsburgh, she went on her litany of explanations for over a minute, pretending to apologize. I'm a true northerner. Just say, “no. sorry.” and in two words, we're all happy.

But I digress.

We basically had no idea what we were ordering, since the entire menu has “been updated” (that's bullshit-speak for “our chef quit”) but they've not bothered to just print a new one. So, I bought the tuna, since that sounded like a safe choice, and the waitress made no reference to the fact that the entire preparation had changed until after I ordered it.

Here's what I was served:

a 6oz piece of overcooked tuna. This was fine. I ordered it “very raw” since that is how I like it. It was simply seasoned (s&p) and then seared to medium doneness. very dry on the outside. fine but boring, and I could have made it better myself at home. I was annoyed to have paid about $29 for it.

on a bed of the aforementioned patchwork couscous: This was a mistake. Firstly, the couscous was heavy, clumpy, and oily. I make couscous at home all of the time, because I am extremely tired and lazy. So when I go out, I have very little (read: zero) respect for when a chef would serve it to me for money. But at least when I make it (which takes five minutes and no talent whatsoever), I make it properly. At the Red Room, it was mixed with pieces of dried apricot, thin slices of asparagus spears (which were overdone and sulfury), salt, pepper, too much olive oil (!!), and SEAWEED. This was bad. I get the allusion to the sea in using seaweed with a fish dish, but it was a horrid pairing with the apricot-sulfur-citrus (lemon zest, I think, but am unsure) vaguely north-African reference of the couscous.

garnished with FOUR mushrooms. I like mushrooms at baseline. But these tasted like they'd been poached in sesame oil, and since sesame oil is so fragrant and overpowering, it sort of displaced whatever the natural flavor of the mushrooms might've been with the strong perfume of sesame seeds. Which, again, is an ingredient that I like, but not at this volume and, to my palate, not in this dish. It lent nothing and was not synergistic.

summary of the Tuna entrée: vague ideas of the classic Japanese-style pairing of tuna with seaweed and sesame got lost in the nod to badly done Moroccan couscous. Fish was tough and fishy from overcooking, asparagus drowned in its own sulfury over denatured stink, and the couscous looked and tasted like leftovers in my college caf.

Then we ordered dessert. There were three options. My husband got the chocolate bread pudding. I love chocolate. No lie. I actually LOVE it. But, like everything that matters to me, I can be kinda picky about it. So I'll leave you with this thought: it was bland, rubbery, and seemingly microwaved with a distinct spongy eggy-ness that readily staved off any remote desire I might have had for a second bite. At least I'll remain slimmer for another day.

the new Red Room breaks my heart. Boring food with mediocre preparation served by a confused waitstaff (I am wondering if my beloved server, Jim, disappeared with the prior chef?) doesn't engender customer loyalty. Especially at these prices. Especially in Pittsburgh.

Dinner for three, drinks, and two desserts, no apps, came to $164.

Up and Down and Patience

I recently learned that the chef of my up-til-now favorite burgh restaurant has moved on. While I am thrilled to know that Kevin Sousa has begun the process of branching out on his own (and I very much look forward to checking out this new endeavor), I am also kinda bummed out.

So, dear friendly readers and those who've noticed that I haven't had much to say recently, please know that more is coming. My first comment (I really am writing it, I swear...) will be a review of the new Red Room. Suffice it to say, I ate there last night and immediately noticed the lack of stellar service, that the food has become quite average and lacking in creativity (albeit well prepared), and that the dining room was... well... empty.

Steeltown Girl on Saturday Night...

I hearken back to Flashdance and sing along... "just a steeltown girl on a saturday night..."

This newly minted Steeltown girl likes to eat out - I am just kinda lazy and am not always up to cooking. I also enjoy a leisurely dinner with friends. So when I recently relocated to Shadyside, one of Pittsburgh's more chic neighborhoods, flush with well-reviewed dining hotspots, I figured I would never lack for a hip place to eat.
but
then I started going out.
and
lots of the food here is bad.

or, worse than full-on bad. I have, to date, only had one meal in Pittsburgh's "finer dining" establishments that I felt was better-than-mediocre.

so I hope that you'll join me as I explore and offer my unbiased reviews of wine, cuisine, and a few other musings as I get to know my new home of Pittsburgh. Just wait... I am no midwestern girl, which is to say that I am not always nice.