West of Western Wrap-Up

Thirty restaurants, more than 100 wines, two sun-soaked afternoons and I'm toast.

I'm talking about the West of Western Culinary Festival that took place this past weekend at the Phoenix Art Museum.

Other food writers are going to give you more details about the specifics -- which chef did what dish -- in greater detail than I will. (Coming soon, entertaining wrap-ups from Howard Seftel from The Arizona Republic, Carey Sweet in the Scottsdale Republic, and Jess Harter's already posted his East Valley Tribune summary).

But I do have a couple of observations that I'd like to add.

First, if you are a restaurant junkie, this festival needs to be on your schedule for next year. West of Western attracts some (I'm wondering why not all) of the top tables in town.

It also showcases the talent behind some of the top hotel and resort restaurants: the Four Seasons, the Phoenician, Wild Horse Pass (restaurant Kai, the only Mobil 5-star restaurant in Arizona), The Wyndham (we have a Wyndham?) and the Sheraton downtown, the Fairmont Scottsdale, two Marriotts (Camelback Inn and JW Marriott at Desert Ridge, the new Montelucia Resort, the Pointe Hilton at Tapatio Cliffs, and even La Posada in Winslow.

Noticeably missing were Binkley's (and Cafe Bink), Los Sombreros, Barrio Cafe, Tonto Bar & Grill and Cartwright's, Lon's at the Hermosa Inn, the new Mission, Christopher's, Vincent's, Sea Saw, Cowboy Ciao, Digestif (although Chef Curry did a demo), and many more.

Some chefs put more into this festival than others. And the festival goers noticed. (A blob of burrata from Prado? Bland garlic panna cotta that blended into the white plate from the new, hip Posh?)

Some chefs went for shock and awe: Kai handed out four samples, including my favorite, pulled lamb on fry bread with fig and curry "mud", Quiessence dazzled with at least 10 (I lost count). Roka Akor grilled Moroccan spiced lamb chops that perfumed all of central Phoenix and presented elegant butterfish tataki.

Tapino did a different kind of shock: foie gras ice cream float with local Sonora Brewing Co. root beer. There wasn't much of a foie gras taste, but he did get a lot of attention, at least until he ran out before 2 p.m., with still 2 more hours of the festival to go.

But here's the thing, most of the restaurants missed the opportunity to connect with their target market. Sure, they handed out generous samples, but very few took advantage of their captive audience by marketing their restaurants. They could have been handing out critical information.

If I were a restaurant giving away that much free food, I'd also create a small flyer with what the dish was (so the customer could remember it later, because frankly, after eating thirty samples, who can remember what? Who did that delicious seared scallop atop mushroom cream, or the cocoa nib dusted scallop, or the scallop on top of the farro salad and wasn't there one more scallop dish --all on Saturday?)

The flyer needs a few other things, too, perhaps a few key menu items on it, maybe tout a fabulous happy hour or at the very least, promote the restaurant's website. SOMETHING.

Huge kudos to the organizers and volunteers are in order as the festival ran as smooth as the Ecuadorian chocolate pudding from Kai. The boy scout volunteers kept the trash empty and the festival staff kept the water tubs full. Cooking demonstrations, culinary lectures and short food-focused films gave eaters a chance to take a break, clear out some tummy room before heading back through the gastro gaunlet.

All in all, the festival was fabulous -- again. I know that as I took each sample, I made sure I asked what it was, and then I thanked the chef for being there, making the festival worth the ticket price. Even though I'm pointing out some shortcomings of some chefs, I so appreciate them coming and feeding us, giving us a glimpse into their fascinating world of creativity.

Because, at the end of the day, I am a restaurant junkie, just like all the other festival goers.

Binkley's Wine Dinner...

If I hadn't already blown my birthday money on the West of Western festival, I'd definitely blow it on this upcoming wine dinner at Binkley's Restaurant in Cave Creek, featuring Frank Family Vineyards from Napa, and sponsored by AZ Wines of Carefree (my favorite boutique wine shop.)


The six course dinner starts at 6:30 p.m. on Monday, March 23rd ($120++) begins with passed hors d'oeuvres and bubbles, followed by an asparagus course with baby beets, chevre mousse, and Meyer lemon zabaglione. Then there is vanilla gnocchi with snow peas, brown butter crusted grouper, 5-spice seared duck breast with a huckleberry pancake, root beer braised short ribs, and finally, a chocolate raisin parfait, served with a Frank Family port, of course.


Wow! I didn't list all the accouterments under each course, or mention the individual wines that will be paired with each course, but I can promise you that the dinner will be spectacular and worth every cent. So if you've not splurged on something in a while, you might want to consider this dinner.


And if you're feeling super generous, pick me up at 6:15.

Appetite Stimulus Menu by Sushi Roku...

Now that's a creative way to entice diners, don't you think? Cleverness aside, the Sunday through Thursday dinner only special menu is a smoking deal at one of the hippest restaurants in Scottsdale.

It's a three course menu for only 30 bucks (excluding tax/tip/drinks, of course.)

Choose either a land or sea starter, a sushi entree and finish up with green tea mochi ice cream with fresh fruit.

Let's see, would I like the tuna tataki with ponzu, daikon wraped salmon, Kampachi with diced jalapenos or the Kobe tataki, chicken tandori skewer or miso marinated eggplant better? Tough choice. Take friends and get one of each. Sweet!

Details: Susi Roku (at the W Hotel) 7277 E. Camelback Road., Scottsdale, 480-970-2121 (www.sushiroku.com)

The Perfect Answer...

Finally, I had the perfect answer to a question I get on a daily basis. See, as a restaurant critic, people want me to recommend "the perfect" restaurant for them. Problem is, restaurants are a lot like clothes. One size or one particular style usually doesn't fit all, and I rarely know enough about the stranger in front of me asking me to give him the perfect recommendation. It's a complicated question.

But today, I had an answer. My monthly pest control guy happen to ask me what it was that I did all day long, squirreled away in my office clicking away on the keyboard. I mentioned that I wrote about food, specifically restaurant reviews for PHOENIX Magazine. His eyes lit up and he said, and I quote: "So, for Valentine's Day, what would you recommend that would be special but wouldn't break the bank?"

I got that deer-caught-in-the-headlights look on my face because this question rarely leads to a happy situation for me or the inquisitive one. So I said, well, where do you live? He told me Surprise. Which is east LA (kidding, but might as well be since it is so, so far west from the center of Phoenix).

And then it hit me. Amuse Bouche. It's in Surprise and it's a cozy, French-inspired gem, with charming owners and outrageously delectable food...that won't break the bank. I wrote about the young couple who own Amuse Bouche in a January story for PHOENIX Magazine called "Rising Star Chefs."

I was so impressed with their food (and I clearly kicked myself out of the opportunity to review them since I met them in person for the story) I wrote to my editor before I left their parking lot. And I sent a note to my former editor at The Arizona Republic because I thought that the valley seriously needed to know about this adorable, cracker-box of a restaurant hiding out in the west valley.

So, finally, the inquisitive one was happy, I was happy and I'm pretty sure the young chefs at Amuse Bouche will be happy when they snatch another soon-to-be loyal customer, who happens to live around the corner.

No sweeter three words...

Deep. Fried. Chicken. There are no sweeter words than these when used together. (I. Love. You. is a close second, though.) Fried chicken is my all-time favorite comfort food. Not favorite food, mind you, that would be a hamburger -- Dad's hamburger to be more specific.

Growing up, fried chicken was a weekly staple. I can't say that Mom's fried chicken is the best I've ever had, but it certainly formed the basis of my comfort craving. Mom's chicken never had the skin left on, and the skillet-fried chicken's crust wasn't particularly crunchy the way the best fried chicken's crust is. I'm quite certain that's because there was no skin, and only one layer of coating.

I've had two ethereal experiences with fried chicken that have left indelible marks on my psyche. Twice, I've eaten fried chicken where I swear I heard angels sing. The first was in the town of Crested Butte in Colorado. The restaurant (pictured) is called The Slogar, an old restaurant with even older cast-iron skillets. Their chicken isn't deep fried, per se, but it is fried in oil deep enough to almost qualify as deep frying.

The second experience happened just last Sunday at a new restaurant in Phoenix, NOCA. Sunday Simple Sundays at NOCA feature three-course prix fixe menus, with a rotating menu. Last Sunday happened to be fried chicken night. Deep. Fried. Chicken. And I heard the angels sing. Glory, hallelujah! It's simultaneously fortunate and unfortunate that NOCA's fried chicken isn't available on the regular menu every day -- fortunate because I can't afford the calories on a weekly basis, unfortunate because I want that fried chicken every week.

I never make fried chicken at home for two reasons: the aforementioned macabre caloric count and the mess. Making fried chicken is a slovenly bothersome proposition. Inevitably, flour gets all over the kitchen, copious amounts of oil splatters everywhere, and then what to do will all that left over oil? Convert it to biodiesel? I don't have a Mercedes Benz anyway. No, it's much better to eat fried chicken in someone else's kitchen, especially if that kitchen happens to be in an old Victorian house in the middle of the Rockies, or in the tres chic, new restaurant on Camelback Road.

Zagat Zingers....

Everyone needs a laugh now and then -- especially in these grim, gloomy times. If you sign up, Zagat sends a weekly email out with restaurant openings and other news. If you scroll to the bottom of the email, they post a quote called "Outtake of the Week" gleaned, I'm sure from the Zagat surveys.

Some are downright hilarious, including the one I read this week: "Only the flies on our table enjoyed the meal." It helps to understand how Zagat guides are put together. Some people think the ratings are done by professional restaurant critics.

It's really foodies who rate the restaurants. Some are professionals but most are not -- they are just food lovers or what I think of as restaurant groupies. For each restaurant listed for rating, the person rating gives a number for food, decor and service, along with a cost of one dinner with one drink plus a tip.

There is also space for comments, and I'm guessing the tickling tidbits published as "Outtakes" come from those comments. Sometimes they are zingers -- like this one: "Take a look at the staff on the way in -- that's the last you'll see of them."

Here's a link to the "Outtakes" page of the Zagat website. Go to the home page if you want to sign up for the weekly newsletter yourself.

Mon Dieu!

Never would I have expected to have such lovely French bistro food in the land of pineapples and papayas, but that's exactly what I found at Du Vin, in downtown Honolulu.

I almost missed the chance, too. When I travel, I like to eat local, what the locals eat, and most often, that's the regional cuisine of the area.

But what do local foodies do when they've had their fill of their own cuisine? They explore other global flavors. Our host foodies wanted to take us to Du Vin. I protested because I wanted to eat something more Hawaiian, not Parisian, for goodness sakes.

When we found ourselves downtown one evening, we strolled by the little French brasserie, a narrow, dark space on Bethel Street. Past the dark lounge, way in the back is an open courtyard, even more narrow than the main room, with tables snuggled closely together. There is no way you'd know you were in Hawaii sitting in this Provencal garden. French patio chairs and tables, potted plants, antique wall hangings, and a mosaic tiled floor more than mask the Pacific Island location --they transport you to the narrow streets of Nice.

The food tastes as French as the decor looks French. We slurp a roasted tomato basil soup and devour moules & frites (pictured) -- with the most plump, tender mussels swimming in a garlicky wine broth, and lots of crusty French bread, soaking up the flavorful broth. We have a piece of Hawaiian fish (amber jack tuna to be specific) that's seared to a golden brown and bathed in an olive butter sauce, and sitting atop haricots blancs (white beans) and frisee. And finish with banana and chocolate crepes (the bananas are local)... Mon dieu! It was exquisite. And I'm really glad that I didn't miss it, even if French cafes are not de rigueur in aloha land.

Monkfish Liver Lover...

I had heard that monkfish liver was the "foie gras of the sea." If you don't like foie gras, you can just stop reading now, because you'll have no appreciation for what I'm about to tell you.

We're in Hawaii, me for a culinary conference, him for his usual business. Carrie & Jay live here. She works with him and Jay is kind of like a client, I guess, but a cool one. Anyway, C & J are locals so they wanted to take us to someplace unique for dinner, somewhere not splattered all over the tourist map.

We end up at the most charming and hip izyaka (a Japanese drinking establishment with a heavy emphasis on food -- think Spanish tapas bar, without the Spain-part). It's called Sushi Izyaka Gaku and it is too darling for words.

The lighting is low, the chefs behind the sushi bar are dressed in traditional, bright yellow, black and red garb (they're Master Sushi Chefs, by the way) and contemporary jazz is playing in the background...or was until the evening waned and then downtempo techno lounge music kicked in as the crowd turned noticably younger.

But back to the food. C & J are adventurous sports, and so are we. So we put ourselves in the hands of our server. He looks like a kid from the Midwest, but he speaks fluent Japanese, so off and on throughout the night, he counsels us on a dish to see if it's to our liking, and then turns and shouts something inaudible in Japanese to the chefs (it's not a big place, he probably didn't have to shout but it seems everyone shouts in these izyakas.)

We start with lovely nori wrapped King crab and cucumbers. Delish. Next we have a small slab of meltingly tender butterfish, the thin strip of skin crisped over an open fire. Divine. Next is a hamachi collar -- also seared over an open flame. A collar is the jawbone of the fish, and is prized for the rich, dark meat tucked away in cartilage.

Next came the monkfish liver. Three salmon colored disks floating in a citrusy, ponzu sauce with microscopic slices of green scallion. The disk was chilled but three seconds in my mouth it started to melt into a creamy pool of fish liver.

That doesn't sound as good as it was. It's hard to describe, but if you love foie gras AND you love strong fishes (salmon, mackerel, etc.) then you would love monkfish liver. I'm not a monkfish lover...I don't like the texture of monkfish. But I am now a monkfish liver lover. Sublime.

These were just our appetizers, something for the Asahi and Shochu to wash down. I don't have enough space here to finish the meal description so I'll save that for another post. I just wanted to tell you about the monkfish liver, you know, in case you wanted to run out and get some.

Dirty Fingers.....

When was the last time you encountered a finger bowl at a restaurant? You know what I'm talking about, right?

A finger bowl is a tiny little bowl, filled with water, for the purpose of rinsing your fingers between courses, especially if said courses involve eating with your hands.

Many cultures still eat with their hands (I'm thinking of Ethiopian and Moroccan off the top of my head). I have never eaten at a restaurant that delivered finger bowls to the table, although I've read about them.

We dined at an Asian restaurant recently, and the first thing brought to the table, after the menus, was a bamboo cradle holding a steamy, hot towel. I thought for a moment I was in business class on my way to Europe.

Apparently, it isn't uncommon to receive a hot towel before the meal in many Japanese restaurants, but it was the first time I ever encountered it and I think I kind of like it.

Nacho usual snack...

My first nacho was a simple little thing. Just a triangle tortilla chip (probably Doritos), covered with a square of cheddar cheese, topped with a pickled jalapeno slice from a jar, and broiled until the cheese was just melted.

That's how my Dad made them back in the late '60's as a game day snack, and so that, to me, is a nacho. I was in college before I learned that ordering nachos in a restaurant meant something entirely different: a plate piled high with chips, covered with chili or pinto beans, topped with grated cheese and then melted under a broiler. The whole plate was then topped with diced tomatoes, sliced jalapenos (sometimes fresh, sometimes pickled) and perhaps a blob of sour cream and/or guacamole.

Nachos dropped off my radar screen sometime after college but made a blip about four years ago. My brother's girlfriend at the time was a nacho mama, and once again, I was introduced to the nacho of my childhood, only this time, a fresh jalapeno replaced the pickled one. I was hooked again.

I order nachos frequently now, and recently, I think I may have tasted some of the best ones yet. A little barbecue joint in a little mountain town in the west offers up tri-tip nachos. What's so special about these nachos? It could be the charred bits of medium-rare tri-tip steak, or the house made barbecue beans, or the perfect balance between all the ingredients (including enough cheese to reach all the chips, not just the ones on top).

If I'm going to make them at home, though, I'm going to go for simplicity -- just the chip, the cheese and the fresh jalapeno slice (hey, it's worth a little trouble). Nachos really are the perfect football-watching snack. If you have to watch football (and apparently I do in this household) then you might as well have a warm, spicy treat to make it a little more pleasant... (go Cowboys!)

Sweet Bites...

I can live without dessert, but I don't want to. It's a bad habit to fall into--having dessert after every meal. I had broken the habit for a while, but it's back. I'm blaming my job (reviewing restaurants) for the return of the sweet curse, but the reality is that I simply love to end a meal with a sweet bite.

Speaking of bites, why don't more restaurants offer dessert samplers? With some desserts reaching the price of a small entree, who wants to commit that much to an unknown? What if you shell out $10 to $12 bucks and the dessert sucks?

A couple nights ago, we were dining at a locally owned steakhouse. It was a lovely meal -- perfectly dressed Caesar salad spears, perfectly cooked filet (although it didn't have much flavor on its own, the chef topped it with a kicky corn and chipotle relish), garlicky mashed potatoes, and then the dessert tray arrives.

I crack up at those trays, laden with fake or "preserved" versions of the real thing. And steakhouses are notorious for whipping up huge, sugar bombs -- dark chocolate cake, ice cream pies, monster bread puddings.

But this local steakhouse smartly put together a sampler -- a taste of three of their most popular desserts -- bread pudding with butterscotch rum sauce, creme brulee, and Mississippi mud pie. The trio arrived in a long, rectangular tray, with the desserts in three ramekins.

There was plenty of each for two to share. None of the desserts were spectacular, but it was fun to sample three and not feel like we invested all our eggs in one basket. I wish more restaurants would go to the trouble (and it is a little more trouble) to package up dessert samplers.

Take it off...

Is wearing a ball cap in a nice restaurant still taboo? Or am I just old-fashioned?

Last evening, we're seated in a high-end restaurant, but one that doesn't necessarily require you to dress up. You'd feel comfortable in jeans and a nice sweater. The restaurant is in a resort town, and casual dress is the norm.

The white cloth tables are set with wine glasses and heavy silverware.The menu is gourmet (entrees range from $20 to $40).

In walks a young, late twenties/early thirties couple, and the guy is sporting a red ball cap. I notice that he doesn't remove it. I shouldn't look at him but he is in my direct line of sight.

So I'm asking: is that becoming the norm among the next generation? Or did his mama just not teach him any manners?

Marketing Class

The Phoenician resort in Scottsdale, AZ, is the epitome of class. Recently, I attended an event at Windows on the Green, the southwestern restaurant at the resort. I left my Tahoe with the valet and trotted upstairs to my event.

An hour later, I returned to retrieve my truck, and as I was driving away, I noticed a cream colored folded tent card on my dash. Here’s what it said:

“Thanks for joining us today! On behalf of Windows on the Green, we would like you to join us for dinner. Please bring this note, and we will treat you to either a Chef’s choice appetizer or dessert.”

The card was signed by the manager and the sommelier. Not only is it a classy touch, it’s really smart marketing on their part. The offer is valid through the end of 2008, so I’ve left it in my dash, and sooner or later, I’ll take them up on it.

More for Me

The best bite of dessert I think I’ve tasted is one of Eugenia Theodosopoulos’s French macarons. (That is how they are spelled, with one “o”.) And they are simply divine. Eugenia and her French husband own Essence Catering and Essence Bakery Café in Tempe, Arizona. She is considered the best caterer in town.

Eugenia brought a tray of her mini caramel cream-filled macarons to a reception yesterday at the Phoenix Zoo. I had four. My friends told me to leave some for other people. I tried, but if you’ve ever tasted one of her macarons, you understand how difficult that is. They are light, airy, chewy, and delicious.

She says that she’s developing some new flavors. She’ll introduce raspberry and then peanut butter, espresso and maybe even pistachio to add to her chocolate and caramel flavors. That makes me happy because that will leave more of the caramel ones for me.