First, let’s get one thing perfectly clear: No matter how much I think I might dislike a place, I bring an open mind to the dinner table.
Sometimes this isn’t easy. Even if a restaurateur has responded to a review with veiled death threats or even mere front-yard TPing, it’s the critic’s job to swallow that bile and return someday, prepared to deal out judgment that’s honest and fair.
“Hey, let’s go over to the new Feast BBQ in NuLu and get some delicious brisket!”
A slice of gently smoked, tender brisket sounded good, or at least it did until I settled down at a long table in the back of the room and glanced up. There on the wall was a buffalo head, mounted like a game trophy. Was he real or fake? I’m not sure, but he looked pretty real to me. His fur was kind of scruffy, but his black glass eyes were soulful. They seemed to look right into my heart.
We live in the era of gourmet-style ballpark food. New York Mets fans can dine on sushi or summon a $17 lobster roll while they take in a game at Citi Field. San Francisco Giants fans also have sushi options and a wondrous array of other good things at AT&T Park. (Unlimited anytime minutes are extra.) Continue reading Buy me some peanuts, Cracker Jack and pork belly on a stick→
There’s something about Goose Creek Diner that brings out the city boy in me, and not in a good way.
Don’t get me wrong: I really like this place, and I had an excellent meal there with a bunch of friends the other night. But it’s an odd mix – a self-proclaimed “diner” that serves Southern-style fare, and I bring some baggage to this concept that has to be unpacked before I can settle down and, well, dine. Continue reading Our critic goes Southern fried at Goose Creek Diner→
After 50 years of nutty national policy toward Cuba, our president, giving the finger to a recalcitrant congress, has shifted foreign-policy gears, reaching out to our island neighbor just south of Florida, demonstrating to our joy that Obama’s just another name for nothing left to lose. Continue reading We celebrate Cuba at TropiCuba→
Let’s touch down for a couple of quick hits on the metro dining scene this week. Uptown Café has been a Bardstown Road landmark for 20 years, serving always reliable fare in a friendly setting that keeps bringing people back for more.
Shandaar Indian is so new that its well-crafted Facebook page still has that new-page smell. So far out in the East End that it feels closer to downtown Shelbyville than downtown Louisville, it proved to be well worth the trek. Continue reading Something old, something new→
For months now, I’ve been watching the vacant little Clifton storefront where Sari Sari Filipino used to be with a joyous anticipation not unlike a kid waiting for Christmas. Or maybe Christmas with a touch of Cinco de Mayo thrown in. Continue reading Con Huevos tiene buena comida→
After quite a few years writing a weekly column about food, I’ve learned a thing or two. For instance:
* When the going gets tough, the tough get going.
* That which does not kill us makes us strong.
* The deadline monster must be fed. Continue reading The cat ate my review. No, really!→
Warmed by the delights of four big bowls of steaming ramen at Rumplings in five day’s time, I asked my baby boomer pals on Facebook a simple question this week: When did you first encounter instant ramen? What did you think of it when you did? Continue reading Ramen guys do ramen and dumplings at Rumplings→
What’s a gastropub, anyway? This culinary neologism has been floating around since the middle of the last decade, and some say it cries out for mockery. “Gastropub”? It sounds, a bit unnervingly, like some kind of medical condition afflicting the digestive system.
What’s more, plenty of the more pompous food scribes decry the term. I still remember an odd analysis by one local food reviewer, who dismissed “gastropub” as an annoying label, misused and meaningless, reserved for bars that wanted to serve house-made ketchup. Continue reading Dundee done be a gastropub now→
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