Homemade Dried Chili Dust (aka Fairy Dust)

I know I just blogged about the fairy dust, but I can't help myself from doing it again.

Last night I blanched some brussel sprouts and then roasted them in rendered bacon fat, garlic, and fairy dust.

With braised beef brisket and mashed potatoes with roasted garlic, it was quite the Sunday feast.


What's funny is I don't usually mind rainy Mondays and work-weeks that involve teaching during the day and grading at night. But today I'm kind of bitter the weekend is over. I wanted more time to experiment with fairy dust. I have a pork tenderloin that should be rubbed in fairy dust and slowly roasted. I have a boring goulash recipe that would explode with flavor by adding some fairy dust. I want to concoct a dessert that brings together savory and sweet with some heat from fairy dust.

I just need more time.

At least another round of chili peppers are drying on the bookshelf in my office. Being enveloped in the slightly intoxicating smell makes me feel a little better. And feeling my sinuses clear out and tears well up in my eyes from their drying reminds me that there's next weekend--something to look forward to all week long.

Fairy Dust (aka Homemade Dried Chili Flakes/Powder/Dust/)

1 food dehydrator
As many chili peppers you have on hand. The more, the bigger the batch.

Wearing gloves, cut the stems away from the peppers, slice the peppers in half, keep the seeds and membranes in tact. Place peppers seeds-side down on the trays. Dry for 48-72 hours, until pepper shrivel and are dried through. Grind peppers in a spice grinder or coffee bean grinder. Store in a small jar for up to 6 months; though it's doubtful the fairy dust will last that long.

Fairy Dust: An Addiction

For my ex-wife potatoes and fairy dust addictions, I blame Sarah Lenz, my fierce friend and fantastic co-star of Spatula.  

If I end up on Intervention, she better be there too. It would only be a "I go, if you go" situation. I'm not watching her grind up Fairy Dust while I use commercial grade Cayenne Pepper. That would cause me to relapse. For sure. 

Let me back up a bit.

A couple of weeks ago, Sarah told me over lunch that she was attempting to make her own dried chili peppers. As much as I love her, I half-heartedly dismiss these projects she pronounces. It's not malicious. It's just she always has a project and is super-motivated, like me, so I see the results only days after she first mentions said-project to me. Why on earth get all fired up about the idea when within a week I can ponder the results for a long while? 

Needless to say, a couple of days later, Sarah calls to report about the dried chili flakes.  

"After I ground the dried chilies in my spice (aka coffee) grinder, they came out like dust," she said. 

"Like powder," I responded, dreamily. 

I'm telling you I could be on Intervention. I'm thinking about how to get a cut of this stuff. How to divy it up. How to parcel it out. Without getting caught. 

Dried Chili Dust = Foodie Cocaine. 

What's weird is, I don't remember tasting it with Sarah. I remember her telling me about it. And then suddenly her dryer was in my house. Trays of halved peppers drying, with their seeds and membranes intact, widened our nostrils and awoke our lungs. Sarah warned me to dry the chilis in the basement; I kept them in the kitchen. After 2 days of drying, I put the shriveled peppers in a coffee bean grinder, like Sarah told me to, and ground them, in several different rounds, into fairy dust. I put the dust in an washed pimento jar. Then I feel as though I woke up and remembered my life, again.

The most mind-blowing result of fairy dust is forthcoming in a BG News article (click on the "YourNews" tab), but I have to admit that I put them in/on/over almost everything I eat. 

I've mixed the fairy dust with butter and put it on steak. 

I've swirled it into mayo and used it as a dip for my ex-wife potatoes. 

I've sprinkled chicken breasts with it before a good sear and bake. 

I've even added it to my olive oil before massaging it into a whole chicken's skin--above and just beneath its surface.

Tonight, FD added it to his venison chili, a fall dish I live for. 

Rich with umami, FD's chilis are always acidic in a good way, complex in mouthfeel (the beans always stay firm and he always finds a chip or Nut Thin to add crunch while serving it), and hot(!!!) with chilies. The fairy dust just took it to a whole new level. Though, I have to admit that I almost put a few sprinkles of fairy dust on top of bowl just before my first spoonful. 

I told you I have a problem. 

To take some of the heat (pun intended) off me, I think Sarah should post the recipe. But if you read between the lines here and are feeling the itch from some fairy dust, you could easily put together the recipe from my post alone. 

I'm not one to leave food junkies hanging. But be warned: THIS SHIT IS HIGHLY ADDICTIVE!

I seriously will never buy dried chili flakes or chili pepper for my pantry ever again when it's so easy to make my own. 

...See, wouldn't Jeff have a field day with me? 

Last Meal: Burger and Fries, Hands Down

Episode 1 - Burgers from Spatula on Vimeo.

I'm a Midwest girl down to the bone of my little pinkie finger. And no meal ever will surpass the past memories, the search for the-next-best-one, and the yes-I-have-to-try-that-place-based-on-your-recommendation nod that's-completely-sincere than a good old burger and fries.

Here, my costar and I dish about whether house-ground meat buys good quality ground chuck the butcher.

Weigh in. The votes are still out!

And be sure to "like" Spatula on Facebook.

A Night of Leftovers

The harmonica of Neil Young's "Natural Beauty" croons.

Through the kitchen, dining room, living room, my office.

We're in the moment of flow. FD in the dining room, me in my office.

Working on creating, sipping red wine, finding words for things.


Dinner was at the table. Us relaxing, lingering on things,


much of which was art, the act of creation--from poems to eggplant gratin to Earth to turnip soup.

Long after forks toasted their plates in a last bite, we sat, talking, the rain

a mere percussion for the guitar and harmonica.

Sunday Beef Stew

I admit.

I have a problem.

I'm a seasonal produce junkie.

I could very well end on Intervention, yelling at Candy that I wanted Jeff, pleading for one more LeCreuset dutch oven before the flight to Texas, and longingly staring out of a mini-van window at the sunset while thinking about the last time I roasted tomatoes or blanched a bunch a kale for the winter.

But by the time the leaves fall and trick-or-treaters carve their pumpkins, I'm done with lettuces, tomatoes, and summer squash, though.

Give me root vegetables and hearty stews, Honeycrisp apples and pears, and lots Butternut squash.

~

Candy: "'Being over tomatoes' isn't dealing with an addiction. What's next parsnips?"
Me: "Right????!!!??? Parsnips are sooooooooooo good. Just give me one more to chop for Jool's Favorite Stew, one of Jamie Oliver's favorite recipes. 
Candy: We can't do that, Amanda...


~


Due to poor planning on my behalf, I missed my sister-in-law's birthday celebration because I have five sections of papers--over 125 papers total--to grade over the weekend. Needless to say, I was depressed. To get out of the funk, I called my good friend and Spatula co-star Sarah for a pick-me-up. Per our style, she suggested a cooking afternoon after a morning of grading on Saturday. Perfect. Done.

We cooked and talked our hearts out. It felt good. It reminded me that breaks are important. That friends and family nourish us as much as food. That being a seasonal junkie is perfectly acceptable in some circles.

No wonder she's my cooking partner. We speak a language through food that says so much more. What a blessing.

~

It was cold today. And rainy. And dreary. And inside the house was the best place to be.

It was perfect.

First thing in the morning I graded. I pushed through all the syntax issues to finish in time for a little yoga and noontime tea. After lunch I started Jool's Favourite Beef Stew. I diced the butternut squash, cut the Niman Ranch chuck roast in one inch cubes and dusted it in GF flour, and scrubbed clean the taters-precious.

All the while listening to Taylor Swift, Eisley, Tori Amos, Liz Phair, Aimee Mann, and many other fine woman musicians.

I was in a zone, enveloped in the art of making something, centered in between complete knowledge and being completely mindless. What do you call it? Felt experience. I Found Flow. I Felt.

It's all the same.

But what wasn't the same was the beef stew. A recipe I have made countless times blossomed to life. Was it because I felt different? Was it because I finally figured out how to regulate my oven's temperature? Was it because I was making it for my love after a long fall weekend of outdoormanship?

No.

It was because I used carrots I harvest from a crop I planted this summer, I bought the potatoes and butternut squash for an awesome local farmer, and the sage came from my good friend Sarah.

Local is where it's at.

The only thing missing is local beef. Just wish I had more time to get to Luginbill Farms.

~

Candy: Really, would Jeff do a better job than me?
Me: Probably. He's mustache is compelling. A real deal breaker for getting help.
Candy: Will you go?
Me: It depends. Does Texas have local produce?
Candy: What if I tell you you'd be going to a place where there's a strong local foods movement? 
Me: Sign me up. 

Pawpaw Season 2: Admitting Failure.

Kaleidoscope Farms Mt. Cory, Ohio. Another season of pawpaw hunting with the ever-generous tree farmer Dave Reese.

Dave planted new pawpaw trees, but the deer munched on most of them.

Pawpaws: Season 2.

Haven't lost my gatherer instinct.

In the bag.

For pawpaw bread.

Scrapping the membrane--which contains a lot of flavor--from each and every seed.

 Finally a perfect loaf of pawpaw bread.

Failure.

The Greenhouse Tavern: Revisited

Crispy Hominy

Back in July I visited The Greenhouse Tavern in Cleveland and absolutely LOVED my dining experience. It was one of the most incredible-tastiest, most-satisfying, so-happy-to-eat-in-Cleveland experiences I've had to date.

So I figured when I took FD there for his special birthday dinner it was going to be the same mind-blowing, mouth orgy again. That doesn't seem an unreasonable assumption, does it?

Chef Sawyer is known for his seasonl spin on contemporary comfort food. And I firmly believe in his Green mission and the restaurant's farm-to-table mentality. There's no doubt in my mind that my food values are completely aligned with The Greenhouse Tavern's; we're totally on the same page.

But FD's birthday meal has left me frustrated and reconsidering going to The Greenhouse Tavern again. At least for anything else other than Animal Style Frites.

Chilled Sweet Potato & Cabbage Soup

I want to be clear that the opinions I express are as an honest food critic and paying customer. It is not my intention to slander any restaurant. It is only my intention to share my dining experiences as an average-Jane diner with no strings attached.

Let it be known that I think the good at The Greenhouse Tavern is definitely worth experiencing, but the customer service is something, I feel, needs much improvement.

Let it be known that the intoxicating, primitive experience event of eating Animal Style Frites is something every food lover MUST experience. However, I must warn any diner that the sassy-and-not-in-a-good-way attitude from a few of the servers and runners at The Greenhouse Tavern might disrupt that experience and turn it into something not-so-much-fun.

Animal Style Frites

Because I am a detail-oriented person who believes arguments should have ample credible support, I feel the following examples will illustrate how lack luster the customer service at The Greenhouse Tavern is.  First of all, when we were seated we were not approached immediately, and once the server approached our table, he did not announce the beers on tap or show us the beer and wine menu. For an establishment that has tavern in its title, I feel is imperative that every server share this information before asking diners what drinks they want. It's helpful and it makes diners feel comfortable in additional to a little of booze and a few recommendations mean a bigger tip usually. Also, the The four course chef's tasting menu used to be $39; now it's $44. If you do the math, it's a rip off; you can order food from each section and usually pay less than $44. I understand this doesn't have to do with servers, but it has to do with customer service and not taking customers (who are in a city that is having hard economic times!) for a ride. Next, our first and second courses were served at the same time. Our table ordered the four course chef's tasting menu because we wanted to have a long dinner; serving both courses not only screwed up the timing and our experience, but also it upset the taste of each course. I have no interest eating chilled soup with hominy or even better hominy with lardo speck gnocchi, which is what we did in much of a rage. Our server's response to the matter: "First and second courses are small tonight; we're serving them together." However, all the surrounding tables were receiving them separately and our portions were huge. The runners had to be asked to box leftovers, and during dessert when a decaf cup of coffee served to our table was cold, the runner deliberated aloud the time it would take to make a fresh pot, which was really rude and destroyed the flow of our table's conversation. Finally, the server forgot one of our guest's desserts and overcharged that same guest by two desserts, even though dessert was included in their four course chef's tasting menu. Needless to say, I didn't leave feeling satisfied this time.

Strip Steak with Pomme Frites

Dear reader, I'm not happy to report these examples of rude, unorganized, and sloppy service. It breaks my heart quite frankly. But I feel the need to share because as food lovers and paying customers we expect a meaningful dining experience, and we, as paying customers, are shelling out a lot of hard-earned money to get that experience, especially in times like these. I have a huge problem with celebrity chef restaurants and talked-up restaurants not delivering on customer service. Restaurants are part of the service industry. That means meeting the expectations of customers and making those customers happy. In this case and in other cases, such as Michael Symon's Bar Symon, I feel the servers are hired because they need jobs and look indy enough to work there. But the servers and runners should know about the food, about serving a table, about the etiquette of dining, and about who actually is paying their paycheck, which are the customers, essentially. If I drop $200 at a restaurant, like I did at The Greenhouse Tavern, I expect the server to be respectful, knowledgeable, and competent. That's not much to ask. And as diners that's all we want. I understand some servers are flirty, some friendly, some hands-off-but-aware, or some funny. A little personality is great. But there must be smarts to match it. And that training MUST come from the owner, the manager, and the executive chef. I can't justify spending that amount of money on a meal when half my experience is spent frustrated at a server who looks and acts like he just did ten lines of coke and is saying his allergies are bad today.

Gravy Frites

With that said, the lardo speck gnocchi was to die for. The halibut was absolutely perfectly cooked, even though the garnish was useless. The kick of hit at the end of a taste of the Ratatouille Vegetables Involtini was divine. The texture of the sweet potato and cabbage chilled soup was so silky it was like sexy satin sheets. The strip steak had a flawless sear and was faultlessly cooked to medium. And the Gravy Frites and Animal Style Frites--I live for them. Period.

Alas, I'm sad this review isn't more about the food. But it replicates my turmoil during this meal. I would have one moment of ecstasy which would be clouded by an unnatural desire to throw a punch.

What's the balance of food and service? Which is more important? Or are both equally important? Is a small dining room like at Revolver or Lucky's Cafe--where service is ALWAYS good--the key? I don't have any answers. But I sure wish I did.  

Pure coolness. The Greenhouse Tavern serves Black Label in a can for under $2.

Goodbye Summer & Picnics at the Quarry

Tomorrow  the semester starts and summer ends.

While I really excited to get back in the classroom with my students, I'm a little sad too. It means I'm going to have a lot less time to cook.

One of my favorite summer activities has been going to the Portage Quarry with our friends N & I. They are as food obsessed as me.

So really, while swimming was totally fun, what was even more fun were our picnics. All of us brought A game to every meal. We're talking spreads that would shame wedding buffets. And what a better way to use up all that fresh produce that was overtaking our refrigerators' crisper drawers?

Also, what picnic days taught me was how to think outside the box of what was picnic food, and they forced me to experiment more with grains, chilled salads, and sides, most of which could easily become main dishes.

I had a blast spending the whole day before our outings scouring through online and magazine and cookbook recipes, creating various flavor simple syrups, testing adult lemonades, finding plastic containers with tight fitting lids, and cooking.

Thanks to our picnics I've learned to love lentils even more, and I feel much closer to N & I (and our friend J who joined us once too!), who were rad to begin with but who are even more rad after I got a chance to chill, swim, and eat with them.

As homage to the last of our picnic days (and summer, in general), here are photos from our summer of good eating, good swimming, and good friends.

Homemade grape leaves, homemade hummus, egg salad, chicken salad, coleslaw with beets, beet salad, etc.

N & I made their own pickles. True love at first bite.

A lot of our produce came from the community garden and farmers markets.

N's baking is divine. This is her cupcake with mint (or basil?) frosting. It's hard to remember everything...

Lentil wraps, fried chicken, bbq chicken & tofu, pasta salad, kale salad, roasted potatoes, peach crisp, etc.

Green bean and cherry tomato salad with onion--produce from my friend Sarah's garden.

This Week at BG Community Gardens

BG Community Garden at First United Methodist

Sweet carrots

Melon hiding

Baby watermelon

A row of crisp cukes

Cabbage Patch Kid in the making

Squash still growing

Avocado Kick

I love avocados. Their shape. Their color. Their creamy texture. Their light fruity flavor.

Everything about them makes me happy.

And when I eat them, I'm even happier.

After having a raw kale salad with avocados at a dinner party, I had to make it at home so I could eat the whole thing myself. (Okay, I did share with FD, but I finished the salad the next day by myself.) And I'm thinking I might make it again for dinner tonight. It's my new fav, as if you couldn't tell.

While reading Local Flavors by Deborah Madison I found yet another recipe with my silky green addition. The Tomato and Avocado Salad with Lime-Herb Dressing is one of the best summer salads I've made this year. Probably because I used my first batch of the heirloom tomatoes I've waited all year to taste again. (I just can't bring myself to buy fresh grocery store tomatoes, so when summer comes I overeat real fresh tomatoes.)

Bleu begging for the Tomato and Avocado Salad

This Tomato and Avocado Salad has crunch from the lettuce and peppers, creaminess from the avocados, juiciness from the plump tomatoes, and heat and spice from the dressing. I adore it. What follows is an adaptation from Madison's recipe:

Lime-Herb Dressing
1 T chopped mint
1 T chopped basil
1/2 c chopped cilantro
4 T olive oil
1 jalapeno chile, finely diced
3 T fresh lime juice
1/4 t sea salt

The Salad
1 1/2 lbs tomatoes (use a variety of cherry, slicers, or paste tomatoes), cubed into bite size pieces
1 large avocado, peeled and cubed
1 cucumber, peeled and cubed
1 sweet pepper, cubed
1 small red candy onion, finely diced
2 cups lettuce, shredded (I used a mix of Red Amaranth, tri-color Amaranth, Oracle, Wild Spinach, Malabar Spinach, and Romaine.)
sea salt
2 oz feta cheese, crumbled

1.) Combine all the dressing ingredients in a bowl. Taste to make sure there is enough acid.

2.) Put bite size pieces of tomatoes, avocado, cucumber, and pepper into a large bowl with the onion. Add the lettuce and a few pinches of salt. Toss, add the dressing, toss again. Add feta cheese before serving.

For any salad with avocado, I usually add it individually to bowls. This way if any salad is left over, the avocado won't brown in the salad. If I have any avocado left over, I wrap it tightly in cling wrap and keep it in the fridge. It usually lasts one day. I cut away any brown spots before eating.

What are your favorite avocado recipes? I need more!

Stuffed, Part II

After making my Hot Pigs in a Summer Couture Wrap, I had about 4 cups of the filling leftover and one huge zucchini that was a gift from my friend Sarah.

Even before all the storms last week and this weekend, I saw a flash a fate-lightning that led me to this recipe: Stuffed Zucchini.

For my Stuffed Zucchini, all I did was cut a LARGE zucch in half, lengthwise, spoon out its seeds, add my filling from the Hot Pigs in a Summer Couture Wrap, drizzle a little local tomato sauce in the pan before and after putting the stuffed zucch in it, grate some of CJ's Farmstead Cheddar on top of the stuffing, and cover the pan with foil.

Again, I baked it on my grill for about 40 minutes on indirect medium heat. (Please see the note from my previous post.) And it turned out AWESOME.

Truthfully, the BIG zucchs are perfect for stuffing but they are a bit overwhelming to eat. I want you to know it's okay to eat half a half and then the filling from the other half and then see how full you are. If your stomach is full, you can grate its leftovers into a lunch salad or grate it and put and freeze it. No worries.

What's awesome is zucchinis have fed us two solid meals in two days in a row with abundant leftovers.

I can't complain.

Stuffed, Part I

"Turn your back on the little zucchini for just a few minutes and they grow into baseball bats," said Epicurious recipe review A Cook From NH.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

This growing season there so many summer squash I can barely grate it and freeze it enough before some more finds its way into our kitchen again. Be it from the community garden, a friend's garden, the farmers market, or the local farmer we order produce from, zucchini has aimed its target at me. And like a good cook, I'm up for the challenge.

On the Epicurious website, I found this recipe for Cabbage Stuffed with Beef, Zucchini and Herbs. While all the ingredients sounded like a perfect fit for my crisper drawers, the recipe reviews were something left to be desired.

But I braved it and tweaked this so-called bland recipe into a keeper. At least I feel confident saying that after getting the approval from our gracious neighbors and friends A & J who dedicated their Saturday night as taste testers.

What follows is the very revised version of the recipe from Self magazine using quite a bit of the comments from A Cook from California. I also must thank my mum-in-law Sally for giving her original pigs-in-a-blanket recipe that I used as a foundation.

Note: The baking instructions are clearly for summer. Being this last week Bowling Green only saw temps in the higher 90s, there was NO way I was going to turn on the oven. So I turned to my grill. I baked the cabbage rolls over indirect medium heat for 50 minutes. To get indirect heat on a charcoal grill, place a disposal aluminum pan in the middle of the charcoal tray. Fill the open space around the pan with 2 layers of charcoal. Bake the rolls in another disposable pan. (After cooking you can either recycle the pans or wash them for re-use. It's up to you.)

Hot Pigs in a Couture Summer Wrap (aka Pigs in a Blanket--Summer Style)

Suggested albums while cooking: The Beatles White Album, especially "Piggies" and Jay Farrar and Ben Gibbard's One Fast Move Or I'm Gone.  (Thanks, Jenn!)

1 large head of local cabbage
1 medium local zucchini
1 medium local summer squash
1 small local eggplant
1/2 bunch of kale
1 can diced tomatoes (local), drained (reserve juice)
2 medium local onions (red or white or mix)
3 local garlic gloves, minced
1 lb local, grass-fed ground beef
1 T each fresh local basil, parsely, thyme, & oregano
2 T organic olive oil, divided
1 c cooked rice
pinch of cloves
pinch of nutmeg

Sauce:
1 can zesty tomato soup (local) with 1/2 water, mixed well, and all of the herbs with some leftover for sprinkling.

Begin by cooking rice. Use wild grain rice, jasmine, minute brown rice, etc. Whatever you have on hand that floats your boat.

While rice is cooking, blanch cabbage. From the top of the head cut a straight incision that goes through the head (so surgical, I know) but that does not cut away any leaves. Blanch for 5 minutes or until bright green. If inner leaves aren't blanched enough, you can always re-submerge. Of course, you'll have ice cold water on hand to stop the cooking immediately after the head has been blanched. Set aside to drain and cool after ice bath. After cool, half and core cabbage, carefully tearing away leaves. Set leaves aside to dry and drain.

In an large non-stick skillet, brown ground beef with 1 T olive oil, salt, and pepper. Drain. Set Aside.

Saute onions and garlic until soft. Add squash, zucchini, eggplant, diced tomatoes, cloves, and nutmeg with a little of the diced tomato juice (I'm sorry I'm not technical like Cook's Illustrated). Cover and cook until soft. Add kale for last two minutes and cover again.

Stir in meat and cooked rice with veggie mixture.

Trim cabbage leaf veins so they are easier to fold. Be sure not to cut leaves.

Hold a leaf with the core side towards you. Add a bit of meat in its cup. Roll once, then fold in the sides and roll until it's covered. Place seam side down in a pan where the bottom is lightly covered with sauce.

Repeat until cabbage leaves are gone. (Recipe can be doubled and frozen, if you so wish.)

Pour remaining sauce over the rolls before covering with the pan with foil. 

Bake on the grill according to the above note. If baking in the house, preheat the over to 350F and bake for 45-60 minutes.

When done, as the French say, "Mange!"

For dessert, consider homemade brownies! Our friends made-from-scratch their brownies using a recipe from How to Boil Water.  As a brownie fanatic all I can say is that they were AWESOME, especially after they added whipped cream and Baileys to them.

Cheers to a fantastic dinner party!

Summer Salads

During the height of all this fresh produce and these insanely hot temperatures, all I can actually do without feeling veggie-overwhelmed or passing out from the heat is make raw vegetable salads. These refreshing, chilled salads make great main courses (if you increase the portion size) or they are perfect side dishes for grilled meats.

This past week I harvested a few cukes from the community garden after my weeding shift. I came home, flipped through some cookbooks for ideas, and decided on a cucumber mint salad. Dressed with olive oil, yogurt, and lemon, this salad was a breeze to make and felt like eating a cool breeze on a hot summer day.

Perhaps my favorite summer salad has been Moosewood's Raw Veggie Salad. I cleaned out our crisper drawers making this salad. Diced beets, carrots, broccoli, zucchini, spinach, cukes, and herbs in a oil-vinegar dressing. That's it. Really awesome, healthy, and light.

Also, I've been digging on Water's Lentil Salad, Food and Wine's Santa Fe Quinoa Salad, and a lot of fresh green salads.

A few recipes I'm planning for these upcoming weeks: Raw Kale Salad, Michael Symon's Zucchini Crudo, Deborah Madison's Tomato and Avocado with Lime-Herb Dressing, and the Summer Pasta Salad with Tofu from Everyday Food July/August 2010.

I hope these salads help you stay cool!

I Can Sweat Duck Fat

This past weekend I visited my friend Jeannie in Hudson. It's kind of like our annual girls weekend. We go the Grey Colt Sidewalk Sale, then out to really AWESOME dinner. This year I threw on a brand new Odd Molly top and funky Free People skirt I got at the sale and Jeannie threw on her best pair of green heels and a sweet summer dress and we headed to Greenhouse Tavern on East 4th in Cleveland.

This post isn't going to review Greenhouse Tavern. That review, in addition to one about Lucky's Cafe, will be live in the BG News this coming Wednesday.

This post is an account of my sweating duck fat during a yoga class. (And, yes, it smelled awesome as well as gross.) It's the unedited version of our girls night out.

The ambiance of the Greenhouse Tavern is sophisticatedly "green." From its fancy toilets that offer two flush settings (one for liquid, two for solids) to recycling old un-used menus as fry cones, this restaurant is thoughtful in its sustainability and certified for it too. I felt proud that my eating that evening was totally eco-friendly.

Without a doubt, the best choice on the menu is the 4 Course Chef's Tasting Menu. You get to choose one appetizer, one "second" appetizer, one entree, and either a dessert or a side for $39. Jeannie and I played it smart by each ordering the tasting menu and sharing a side and a dessert. However, as the plates started arriving we realized we should have split the tasting menu.

I ordered the French Buttered Radishes as my first. If you've been keeping up with my BG News articles, I've taken a liking to radishes lately. And these were amazing. Jeannie had the fried hominy, and I had a bit of food envy. Fried should be my middle name; crispy, salty, crunchy--the hominy rocked.

For seconds Jeannie had a lamb patty (sorry I forgot...I was having a food orgasm and wasn't taking notes when I should have been) that was AMAZING. I had the Hand Ground Beef Tartare, which rocked my world. As a kid I would sneak crumbs of raw ground beef before it went into a meatloaf or goulash. I have a raw meat problem, and unfortunately most raw meat is not fit to eat. So when I see tartare, I'm on board. Accompanied with housemade condiments, pickles, crostini, and a two minute egg, it was DIVINE. MINDBLOWING. INSANE.

While waiting for our entrees I realized to my left was a table of douche bags who were clearly there to be seen and maybe score some pu-tang. Maybe they thought they were cute, but truthfully they were obnoxious. So much so--we found out from our totally friendly, attentive waitress after they left--that the older couple sitting at our table before us asked to be moved. Ha! Jeannie and I tuned out all of their degrading comments about every woman in the restaurant simply by discussing each frame of Eclipse in-depth. Quickly, we became some weird, obsessed nerd girls they definitely wouldn't "fuck, marry or kill," which meant they left us alone for the most part. Until Jeannie's Half Roasted Chicken in Brioche Bread arrived at our table.

Dear reader, maybe you imagine shredded chicken in a bowl topped with buttery, rich French bread. If so, you are wrong. Chef Sawyer and his crew serve the half chicken in a HUGE LOAF of Brioche Bread. It's so huge that the runner asks if you'd like to slice it or have the kitchen slice it for you. Of course, any person in their right mind would have the kitchen do it.

So when the chicken returned, the douche bags next to us tried to claim it. Funny and cute? No, we wanted to eat. Patrick Swayze says, "No one puts Baby in a corner." I say, "No one comes between me and my food." After we laughed off their idiocy, Jeannie tried to make a dent in the chicken dish. If my guess is right she's still eating it right now for dinner.

I had the Sea-2-Table Halibut, which was beautiful. But the only reason I got it was so I wouldn't feel so guilty sharing and quite frankly devouring Jeannie's fourth dish: Gravy Frites. I'm not sure I'm prepared to talk about how much I think I'm addicted to these hand-cut potato sticks deep-fried in duck fat and topped with brown gravy and mozzarella curd. I can see why Michael Symon of Lola (a couple doors down on East 4th) calls them his guilty pleasure on the tv show The Best Thing I Ever Ate.

I swore to Jeannie I'd only eat a couple. I ate 3/4 of the plate. Yes, on top of the Halibut, beef tartare, and radishes. Clearly, I have problems. If I lived in Cleveland, I would be there right now eating them. And tomorrow morning I would wake up and be at the gym for 4 hours--I'm not lying--so I could go back and eat them tomorrow night. I'm having Walleye and a Raw Veggie Salad for dinner tonight. I'm not happy, and both are quite good (not to brag). I should have written this post after I ate.

That's how much I love those fries.

And we shared dessert--Carmel Milk Chocolate Pot de Creme. It was salty and sweet and a perfect ending to our fantastic meal. But the whole time I was thinking about the fries in Jeannie's to-go box.

And we got home and attempted to watch Little Ashes, which was horrible, but I got through it because I was thinking about the fries. (I couldn't eat them because I was that full and not that drunk.)

And I went to sleep and would wake up at random times with only the words "duck fat" on my mind and lips.

And in the morning we got up at 7:30 and went to Yoga Lounge where Kevin had us going through all these crazy advanced poses, including side crow and headstand, in a 98 degree room and all the while I'm thinking about duck fat fries. And I'm sweating duck fat all over my yoga mat. Which is a blessing and a curse. Because I can sniff my mat and remember the fries, but I probably should clean my mat after all the sweat that dripped on it.

I can't believe I admitted that for all the world to see...

(Grey Colt picture courtesy of their website.)