Eating Out the Rogue Hangover

Post Rogue salutations dear Fresnans!  It's taken almost 5 days before I could finally get a full nights sleep.  Full night meaning almost 12 hours and waking up to a storm blowing into town.  I'm glad that it decided to hold off showing up so everybody had good weather to draw in their crowds.

So to wrap up our Rogue coverage, we stopped in to see Airplayne Jayne's, An Accident Waiting To Happen at the lovely City Arts Gallery.  What a touching show!  I really loved her narrative and it totally drags you into her perspective throught the story's interweaved plots of youth, adventure and facing death.  All I can say is Plain Jayne In Pain is insane!  She pulls this off with style and all while tearing her hair out to keep the Rogue Festival as a whole on the tracks.  She shines under pressure thats for sure.

And of course we had the final two installments of Cap'n Scurvy's Ragnarok Hootenanny Jamboree.  Dear jeebus we had too much show this year.  Not counting musical instruments, we had an entire pickup load of props and costuming.  And with limited Tower parking, load in and load out were frenzied Keystone Cop affairs.  But we pulled her off with something I'd like to call aplomb.  The finale at Diana's Dance Studio was an absolute dream.  We had never worked with them before, but they nailed every light and sound cue, didn't freak out when we covered their nice dance floor in gore and were absolutely awesome about the fact that we turned out an hour and a half show.  The last audience got the full and final iteration of the show and in my opinion the best.  3 months and 3 performances went a long way to putting the final polish on the gags and the blocking.  All of the audiences were great and the last one was standing room only!  Thanks for attending as we pushed the old girl off in her burning viking longship for burial on the seas on comedy.

And big thanks need to go out to everyone who puts on the Rogue Festival!  Without folks like them, small theater companies and hesitant Fresnan artists wouldn't have an affordable way to shake their art-butts.  From the first opening to the final wrap party at Starline, they're working their butts off for free.  And speaking of the wrap party...well honestly it's a bit fuzzy.

See, like any good cast of nutjobs, as soon as we finished the show, we dashed back to the lair to demolish a bottle of Tomintoul 16 year old and a bottle of Hendricks Gin, both direct from the shores of Scotland.  And I'm here to say that it's true, the stuff sent for export is noticeably different.  Not awfully so, but domestic Hendrick's is a wee bit smoother.  And the Tomintoul was hands down the best whiskey I've ever had.  Not just because it represented victoriously finishing a very complex production, but because it was goddamn good!  Smooth, just a tiny hint of smoke, fine flavor of peat lightly drifting through the nose.  I'm ruined for scotch for life.  But it's a mighty fine peak to have reached.

So it's a sloppy stagger towards the wrap party.  On the way, it occurs to me that I've only had a salad all day, so we duck into Livingstone's for a quick bite.  I know, I know, I'm beating the Stone's drum.  But I've been quite curious to be proven wrong on my like for the place.  So we hopped into a booth some friends were already eating at.  We gabbed for about 5 or so minutes before deciding to eat.  About 2 minutes their waitress stops by to check on us, takes our orders immediately, has waters at the table and gets us silverware.  Pretty damn pro considering how faux pas our tripling of her table is.  Our burgers arrive promptly and hot, but oh dear!  My beef nachos has the dreaded pico de gallo I specifically asked not be there!  I politely point out the mistake and she politely apologized and dashed back to the kitchen and brought out a freshly made plate.  Quick too, but then again nachos are a quick dish.  Incidently, they were so awful that I wolfed down near the entire plate.  And I'm digging their salsa.  Not very spicy, but it has a great flavor.

Either way I've got to conclude that Stone's is still a great place for drinks and dinner.  It's not fancy schmancy dining.  It's a nice middleground where shorts aren't a problem, but you can still get a nice piece of fish.  Mistakes will happen, but it's how quickly and pleasantly that they are fixed that resonates with me.  They don't claim perfection, but they will do their best to make the diner happy.

Speaking of happy, wasn't there a wrap party next door?  A raging one given how well I can hear it next door.  So we dash in for our last real chance to rub shoulders with all of the new and old friends who've been insane enough to dance and sing and joke and act for the happy Fresno peoples.  One thing I noticed, performers are horrible audience members!  High off our performances and respective successes, we collectively were out-talking the band's amps.  But it was all a vibe of comraderie and friendship.  Grasping those last moments of fellowship before we have to revert back to our Clark Kentish identities and board the various modes of transport to homes all over the map and Selma.  Awards were given out, though what they were I never heard.  Toasts were made, hugs were spread around and compliments flowed like they came from a busted beer spigot. 

Finally it was time to wrap the wrap.  A final slow trundle through Fresno's art district, following the spoor of some poor drunk who apparently vomited his way home along our very route.  Love you Fresno.  To a final cocktail with the director while gazing at the charred remains of our original script.  It was a  helluva festival.  We saw some great shows, put our own brand of creativity on stage, met and chilled with some fascinating artists.  And it happens every year!  I wonder what next year will bring.

-Pook

Eating Out Your Rogue Review

High Ho!  Your incredibly hungover blogger here!  Ok shhhhh.  My head is freaking killing me!  I didn't even go out and get sloshed on Fat Tuesday!  Being not-Catholic, I prefer to have a barbeque to really piss off everyone suffering under the arcane culinary laws of the Lentish season.  Don't blame me, God made pork delicious for a reason.

So on to the Rogue!  Sadly, on the food front, I've been running on liquor and hubris.  So there haven't been any real culinary adventures, short of discovering how long a human can run on beer.  The Egyptians seem to have known a thing or two, since I made it through the weekend.

Obviously I got to see two showings of Cap'n Scurvy's Ragnarok Hootenanny Jamboree!  Lord, a matinee audience is a difficult one.  And I'm proud to note that apparently a couple folks didn't read their programs, this ain't your Grandpappy's jamboree!  Although all things told, I hear their respective Grandpappies were WAY cooler.  And I'm told that they'll being showing up to the FINAL, FAREWELL, NEVER EVER EVER TO BE SEEN AGAIN, shows this weekend!  Friday 7:00pm @ Million Club and Saturday 8:30pm
@ Diana's Dance Studio.  Catch it before your girlfriend gives it to you!

On to Baba Brinkman, the thinking man's rapper with Rapconteur.  Beyond that he's rhyming through a recently broken leg (who the hell goes snowboarding before Rogue??), he's also giving his audiences a primer in the epic sagas of yore.  I know that my superlative use of suffixes may dazzle you, but you may be shocked to find out I have little foundation in the Classics.  And even a slope browed yokel has to bray that Baba was able to make a couple semesters worth of English Lit goddamn entertaining and maintained a strong rhyme narrative throughout.  If you're a fan of nerdcore hiphop or just enjoy books, this show will be right up your alley.

Next up on our evening was getting to see the updated version of a show we've already reviewed.  Carolann Valentino's Burnt at the Steak-Prime Cuts.  If you enjoyed the show last year, it's certainly worth a rewatch, just to enjoy the musical bits and keep an eye out for the added skits and characters.  It's not totally reimagined, but she shows even more polish and comfort with her roles.  For a fellow kitchen refugee, her show reminds me of every weeping server and belaguered front of house staffer I've ever worked with in some fashion.  Though I find it fun trying to imagine my old head cook as a swaggering cat from New Jersey.

And last up for our still available Rogue performances and certainly the closest to my wicked heart.  He's a Monk from the Motor City.  Honorary Fresnan and frankly a bigger advocate for our town than the Chamber of Commerce, the only fan of Cooking With Pook, every week, Wendesdays 4-6pm on CentralValleyTalk.com, The Reverend Nuge!!!  He's a huge Kid Rock fan, and we forgive him for that.  Mostly because he chooses to emulate the rap-rocker in a most agreeable liquor-ish way that you must attend to show to see....hint hint.  And there's also a pretty badass show to see.  Well, badass is more the theme.  He focuses on all the things that we look back on over time and wish we had the foresight to come up with that zinger or that deep comment, rather than whatever regretable comment escaped our jaws.  It's a hellaciously fun show that can make you think some deep shit without hurting your brain too hard.  The Jim Beam does alot to soften the blow.  So go see all these fuckers!

The wrap up is circling about the most excellent night we got to have at the Iron Bird Cafe last night for the Beat Down vs Rogue Festival Poetry Slam.  Again, missed out on food, but had a mocha that made me remember why I became a coffee snob.  They do shit right there.  But so apparently did the Slam, because the entire front of the place was wall to wall people.  It's a good thing I was there to film, because I was shit outta luck for chair space.  And that makes me feel a little more happy about Fresno.  It's nice to see a good scene crowded with good people out to have some fun and rock some art.

And rock they did.  DJ Smack Jilly was driving everyone fucking mad by picking some of the fattest grooves to intro the poets.  They HAD to be good, because we all wanted more James Brown, Cypress Hill, LL Cool J (yeah, I said it) and every damn track!  But throw down they did!  On the Beatdown Team, Michael Domin'Q'ez layered out his hot saucy love for pizza, David Nixon got deep on bugs and growing up with adopted siblings, Rain owned her body and her mind, Christa Rose Unger sang soulfully of rhyme and Scurvy demanded that you kill your TV, overthrow your fatcat overlords and make a world where not reading books is a crime!  Fresno brought some strength!

Now it's down to the out of towners, burnt and crispy from their weekend openings, sleeping in cages and being fed gruel by their terribad Fresno hosts!  (I totally kid, all the Rogue performers have raved about their billets...under pain of DEATH!)  And so, Barry Smith (edit: I'm wrong it was Kurt Fizpatrick) gives us an insight into a first date...where she tells him that she has a yeast infection...and whom she got it from.  Baking bread my friends, baking bread.  Next up is Tommy Nugent (The Rev) and he riffs on his them of "Wish I hads" and leads us on a tale of her border guard brother talking shit about being a performance artist and Nuge's fantastic rebuttal that we all should take note of for use against asshole relatives.  And Baba....dear Baba Brinkman, who seriously brough the BEAT DOWN to the Slam.  He had a soft open, but wrote his second piece as a roast, while observing all of the performers on the other team and just ripped into some ass.  Celebrity judge Chuck Leonard wasn't even exempt from Baba's razor wire rhymes, comparing the Mayor of the Tower District to Oprah in a rather unflattering light.  That wicked so-and-so even took at few shots at the Ragnarok Hootenanny Jamboree!

And took third, even with a fat goose egg from a certain interweb celebrity that shall remain infamous.  Second went to David Nixon and First place was a throwdown tie between Katherine Glover (of Burning Brothels) and the aforementioned Carolann Valentino!  Both opened up with pieces I'm familiar with.  Kat with Penthouse Letters Read After Being Put Through A Paper Shredder.  And Carolann with a rendtion of Big Fat Daddy, an homage to fat people who love large steaks (right up Fresno's alley).  Second off Katherine has a great tale of feeling bi- in the midst of a preacher giving a breakdown of homosexuality and describing lesbians as never having sex but having extremely successful relationships and her joy at the idea of a never ending slumber party.  Carolann firing back with a rendition of a panty-less British lady singing her well chosen reasons to let the pussycat come out to play.  And it was tie-o-rama!

And so the tie breaker was thrown down!  And I ran out of tape!  And I have a hard time remembering much more about something scant hours ago!  Needless to say, Katherine had another great piece prepared and read, Carolann did an improv riff on how disgusting high rollers act in restaurants and they bloody tied again!  So, kindly enough the owner of the Starline offered to match the top prize and both ladies got to walk away winners, technically making the Rogue Festival double winners of the First Annual Beat Down vs Rogue Festival Poetry Slam.  But props should be given all around.  Every poet brought some awesome and entertaining shit, the crowd was as lovely as anyone could hope for and goddamn that mocha went down good.

Ending the night up at Fulton 55 for a beer and a chance to check out the Licorice Pimps just topped off the night.  The club is AWESOME!  You get a nice cozy cafe sized atmosphere downstairs and upstairs you've got the ultrachill louge of doom!  Plenty of space to sit for a small show and plenty of room for fans for big ones.  And the Pimps were a hella fun band to boot.  Anyone who can cover Gnarles Barkley's Crazy, live on instruments with no canned effects deserves some respect.  They kept us out way past bed time, which I should probably observe at this point.

-Pook

Eating Out Delicious Technical Failure

Who has two thumbs and just had their hard drive take a dump?  THIS GUY!

And what a perfectly lovely time for it all too with the Rogue Festival kicking off tonight.  But worry not, a sleek Western Digital Caviar Black is rapidly being beamed to me via the worldwide wonderful world of webs.  So we'll still be on track for our undercover culinary plans.  But in the meantime, there are some awesome shows out there to check out after you go straight to Cap'n Scurvy's Ragnarok Hootenanny Jamboree!

Top of the list of course would have to be the American Badass Gone Rogue, where you'll hear the most wonderful stories of true Fresno moments through the eyes of a Motor City maniac.  Next up would be a show close to my foodly heart, Burnt at the Steak.  We reviewed her show last year, but she has assured us that this is an entirely updated show with new characters and stories to tickle the funny bone of any ex-kitchen refugee and restaurant goer as well.  And for the pervert in me, there's Burning Brothels.  Catherine Glover's one woman show about theft, arson, murder and all the exciting wherewithal that comes with prostitution.  Of course, The Godling, the only NC-17 rated show in the entire festival.  And Lies My Father Told Me, the Rogue founder Marcel Nunis is Roguing his own creation!  And it's a brilliant show.

And there's a whole list of great other shows that I'll be doing my best to squeeze in.  Rambo: The Missing Years, Classic Suicide Lounge, Horse Pills and Holy Water, Magical Mystical Fun, Magician Brian Patrick, Songs 4 Pints, Hot Club Surf and of course, Rogue  producer Airplayne Jayne's one woman show that we all hope that she has had the time to finish and memorize before tomorrow.

To the participants all, BREAK A LEG!  And to all of the lovely patrons I say, SEE ONE MORE SHOW!  Have a great festival everybody!

-Pook

Eating Out A-CoW

Greetings dear readers! What a freakin weekend we had! Rollins on Friday night, Burlesque on Saturday night and then the Celebration of Wine on Sunday! How in the heck did I suddenly develop a social life? Unthinkable!

Well, you got a peek at my letter to Henry that I’m screwing up the courage to send off. The show was really, really good. Without ruining album sales, let’s just say that he catches you up on his life over the past year or so and gives you some fun insights into his recent TV roles. And seriously, if you have seen one of his shows, stick around and meet the man. He’s nothing but kindness. And he brings his own Sharpie! Now if I could only have convinced the Phyllis Diller of punk rock to get her bewbs signed. Can’t win ‘em all I guess.

Saturday rocked with the ladies of the Valley Burlesque Society doing Wonderlesque, featuring Cap’n Scurvy’s Fantastical Armageddon Tea Party. What a show! The beer flowed, the ladies pranced about in their most beauteous choreographical manners and the Cap’n dazzled the crowd with the miraculous powers of his fantastical tonics. But then some horribly perverted rabbit flasher showed up! I don’t think I can ever eat carrots again. And all on the Cap’n’s birthday. At least he’ll have those pasties to keep him warm through the night terrors.

Which brings us to day 2 of the Henry Hangover. I probably shouldn’t have drank that half bottle of Polish brandy. But it was so damn good! Smooth, only a mild hint of sweetness. It was like a fine scotch, minus the peat. So, I’m just a wee bit frail going into Sunday and the 28th annual A Celebration of Wine (ACoW). But since there will be 32 different food vendors on site and nothing more liver-bashing than wine, I think we can make it.

Jumping pork futures! Upon arrival, we’re assailed by the odor of money. It probably helps that we’ve infiltrated the VIP area using skills honed by years of “I’m with the show” practice. But I’m fairly certain that my vintage Jimmy Buffet Hawaiian shirt and painfully pale legs will stand up to the scrutiny of the leg breakers hired to keep a wine fuelled riot in check.

So, we in! Let’s get to it! First spot was the catering table set up by Chef Delaney Boling from Valley411.com fame. And here I’m reminded the differences between a cook and chef. First off, it’s a gorgeous spread. Great cheese table, bruschetta bar, yakitori skewers, fresh chilled fruit, a slider station with burgers AND pulled pork. But what really rang my bell were his kebabs. First off, the meat was salami. I’ll say it again, the meat was SALAMI! Sound weird? I know, but it was insanely good. Especially in concert with the balsamic and onion marinade. Macerated onions in a marinade? Seems simple, but it was a revelation to me. Plus, it did amazing things to the green bell peppers on the skewers. Normally I dislike the overly bitter taste of the greens and prefer reds or orange. But something magical happened during the marinating process where all of the bitter was drawn out of the pepper and was replaced with a mildly tart and sweet flavor. Like it was a mildly pickled carrot. Chased down with a little Fresno State chardonnay and we were fuelled for exploration!

Armed with a wine glass and a silly looking but highly functional wine glass holder-type plastic plate, we set forth into the sultry, tree shaded morass of high dollar gentrified elites. Little do they know, a broke-dick ex-kitchen refugee walks among them, sampling and gobbling and grazing and mooing. Who knew bad fashion sense was fashion? But there were at least a dozen others in even louder shirts with even skinnier bone white shanks jutting from Target shorts. Apparently I’m supposed to be rich, my bank account just doesn’t know it yet. What fun!

So we immediately join, what has to be the most orderly line I have ever seen for free booze in my life. Maybe it was too many punk rock parties and the dog eat dog world of underage drinking, but I’m used to having to throw a few elbows to ensure that Daddy gets his cup full before the barrel runs dry. Not so much here. Instead people are politely chatting and droning and generally fucking up the orderly nature of getting my goddamn drink on! But given that there are ridiculous numbers of cases floating around and most of these pansies look like lightweights, I think I can hold out long enough to get a glass of whatever this dude is slinging. Turns out to be a decent chardonnay. But Christ, in this heat, I could go for something a little more chilled. So that pretty much means fuck all the reds.

The next booth we hit up is run by Cupcake Vineyards. And hosannah! They’ve got a Riesling! Happy happy happy! Joy joy joy! And suddenly it occurs to me. There is a metric fuckton of good vintners here! I don’t have to drink “everything”. I’m not even a wine snob! And even though they’re good, I’m fairly certain that Chateau Marmot isn’t here, so I ain’t missing a Rothschild or anything. I can pick and choose what to drink! I can just have a Riesling day! Well…maybe not totally. It’s a rarer wine to find than a chard or a cab. But from here I decided that I was going to stick to odd wines rather than swill any red or white that came my way. And it worked out quite well. There were 3 Rieslings that I could find, along with a couple very sweet muscat wines. The blended muscat by Ramos Torres was lighter and not quite as cloying. But the pure muscat by Quady was still very tasty. Would be a perfect dessert wine, or even poured over some ice cream with some sliced grapes or muscat raisins. Some of the varietals were really interesting. There was a really subtle Grenache and an insanely spicy Barbera at Two Friends winery’s booth. And when I say spicy, I mean burn your mouth for a couple minutes after your sip. But not in a bad way. It was like it had been decanted with hot peppers or something. Strange, but really good. There were others to be sure. But there’s food out there to rant about, so with no further delay.

I GOT TO EAT CHEF KARSTEN’S GRUB FOR UNDER $100!! I’m sure you’ve heard of Erna’s Elderberry House. Easily one of the most expensive spots to eat in the area and one that carries a big reputation. I’ve run into the guy during midweek shopping trips to the farmer’s market. Seems fairly pleasant in general. So, we’re served by a lovely lady at the booth. And already I’m giddy. For, I see a beautiful terrine of duck on a wee thin crouton. Out of everything else served that wasn’t cold cuts. This was the only spot that served the One Perfect Bite. I know, I know. It’s pretentious as hell. But for the prices that they charge at the restaurant, I want some fucking pretentious. And hot damn in a preacher’s drawers is it pretentiousing all over my mouth. Smooth duck liver and chives, lightly chilled. The crouton is a bit soggy. But, it’s a cattle call here. There would be no realistic way for them to make them all to order on site. But I’ll say this, they’ve enticed me enough that I very well might try their Broke-Dick $40 Menu. $100 a head is still too rich for my blood. And with my luck it’d be the Celebration of Onions menu.

There were other fine food establishments represented as well. I even got to rub shoulders with Chef Vatche from Cracked Pepper Bistro and Scott Sauer from Max’s Bistro. Vatche brought out the CPB’s demonic dessert of decadent delight that they simply call bread pudding. What a cruel bastard! He KNOWS that if I start eating that, I’ll go back for more and be so stuffed that I won’t be able to try any of his competitor’s food! Wicked, evil, Chef Vatche! You must be spanked!

We also hit up the Roe booth. Man, if those girls actually WORK there, I’ll cruise there for sushi before I bother with overpriced wings at Boobers. Yow! Plus they had some nice, well chilled California rolls and some cute little bite sized apple chicken salad wraps. Certainly one of the lighter snacks of the day and rather refreshing in the Fresbergian heat. Bella Pasta’s spread was ok I guess. Their orzo pasta salad was pretty good. The potato salad was…potato salad. But their bowtie pasta was a trainwreck! Uncovered, dry, no flavor. I’ve got no idea what they were going for, but I would have tossed those last dregs before I served them to someone, in hopes that it would draw them to eat at my restaurant. They get a big Fail on that one. Although, they were one step ahead of Wahoo’s Fish Tacos and several others who just outright ran out of food in the first hour. Nothing makes you feel like a valued potential customer like an empty booth and a sign. Dammit a fish taco sounded hella good on a hot day like this. Guess I’ll just have to learn to make my own.  Nyah!

But it’s always darkest before the dawn right? Well this time, the sun rose in the North. Now, I’m as much a detractor of the Fresno-North, Clovisian set as anyone. But as soon as I turned the corner, I smelled curry and there was the North India Bar and Grill booth. This is another spot that has had a lot of buzz and glad handing around the Fresno Foodosphere. So the bar is already set high. They’re throwing down some rice with a bit of vegetables, a garbanzo bean curry and about an 1/8th pound chunk of chicken breast. My god! Where Erna’s was very up front about their elegance in their presentation, North India was almost belligerent in their desire to feed you. And friendly! I had heard some rumors about a particularly surly manager serving the previous year. But it appears that the owners paid attention to the debacle and instead sent in a team of folks that just about talked me out of my distaste for travelling that far into Lexus country. And to top that, they even served up an amazingly tasty curry, moist chicken and some pretty flavorful rice.

There was all that and a lot more. There were a ton of cold cut plates available. Two different cheese makers, Bravo Farms, who has an AMAZING sage cheese. Insanely good with scotch. And Fiscalini Cheese Co., who brought a strong Cabernet washed cheddar and also made a sexy ass horseradish, cheddar, sour cream dip. Oh my god, that was the shiznit! Fresh horseradish and their really sharp cheddar cheese with just enough sour cream to bind it to a pretzel. You can blow your onion dip out your ass Mabel! There’s a new queen of the Super Bowl party!

Sadly, between the ghost of the hangover and the heaviness of many different wines and foods put me over the top on fullness. I was Fullerton Von Fullingham. Although, I must say, it was the first time in my life where I wished there was a vomitorium. Seriously, I was at a point where I wasn’t eating for nutrition. I just wanted to have the room to be able to taste more food from more restaurants. I think I might have a problem… That, or I’m an incredibly cheap bastard and wanted to get as much experience with each establishment’s cuisine, without mortgaging the arm and leg that they’ll charge for a full meal.

And really that brings me to the brilliance of the whole event. For $80 at the gate or $70 pre-buy, you get 3 hours to tear through the cellars and larders of some of the best that the greater Central Valley has to offer. Just the wine tab alone would run you double that at any reputable grape guzzling establishment. And don’t even get me started on what you’d be dropping to get to Wagon Wheel Sampler your way through places that normally charge you $40 for soup and fucking salad! Never mind that you’re at a gorgeous ranch right off the San Joaquin River, shaded by large trees and parading around the well manicured backyard of the ranch’s owner and main sponsor of the event. You’re even serenaded by the smooth sounds of the middle aged classics cover band, while you sit and work your way through one of the many bottles that you won at the silent auction and argue with your compatriots which one of you is going to call friends to come pick your drunk asses up.  Shoulda rented a limo...

Plus, you never know ladies. The weird guy taking photos might be a blogger in disguise. Now I’ve got the EoF Cheeleaders!

Great event. Great time. Great booze and incredible food. It only looks expensive until you see how much you get for the ticket price. Beats a trip to the Renaissance Faire any day of the week!

-Pook

Eating Out Myself

And so we return, dear readers.  I have retreated to the Cave of Grumpiness, now that the Rogue Festival has come and gone.  Truly it was a grand two weeks for myself and many many others.  Shows were rocked, crowds were wowed and lots of new friends and acquaintances were made.  A hearty thank you to everyone who participated in the Rogue this year, from the organizers to the volunteers to the audiences themselves.

All that said, onto the foodings.  A strong lack of time and spare cash conspired to keep me from embracing as many Tower eateries as I would have liked.  But have no fear, I have every intention of Eating Out Tower and leaving her mewling and sloppy in my wake.  But until I can miracle up enough cash, we're going to focus on what we're Eating Out at home.

A favorite treat of mine is a dish I learned at the table of a disgraced mobster, who had been exiled from the home country for reasons unknown.  He was dating a rather promiscuous and somewhat foolish friend who had invited us up to his Hollywood Hills home for dinner.  So after some small talk about how he was Italian Special Forces, a former mining engineer, a single engine prop-plane pilot and what the current market prices of Bolivian booger sugar was, I came to the conclusion that he was the real deal and I had better buckle in, shut up and hold on.  And now, I'm afraid that my fiercly clenched sphincter was going to leave a spiral pattern in the seats of his redwood dining chairs.  But a dish was brought out that was so delicious that I was (foolishly) able to relax.  Such is the magic of pasta carbonara!

And then I find out that it's stupid easy to make!  The hardest part is finding pancetta, which is readily available at Sam's Italian Deli.  From there it's just a bit of planning and moxy.  So be not afraid!  And if you're too cheap for pancetta, you can easily substitute the same amount of bacon.  It's a little different, but still amazing.  So here's what you'll need.

1lb spaghetti (or linguini)
4 eggs (3 if they're large)
1/2 cup heavy cream
1/2 lb pancetta (sliced thick, 1/8th inch)
1/2 cup parmesan cheese
1/2 cup romano cheese (both grated)
fresh cracked pepper

Now, before some purist yells NUH UH!  THAT AIN'T HOW GRANDMA MAKES IT!  Well, you're right.  So go eat a dick.  We're making it this way this time.  I've done it in the past with only egg yolks.  Hella yum, but this is less of a pain in the ass.  So suck it.

First!  Give your pancetta a dice.  I like mine a bit chunky, so I keep it 1/8th inch cubes.  Then add it to a nice pre-heated pan, deep enough to take about a pound of pasta.  You'll find out why soon.  Now cook down the pancetta until you render the fat from it.  Unlike regular bacon, it'll start to look done long before it is.  Lower heat will help prevent burning.  But melt as much fat as you can out of the pancetta.  Once it's well done but not terribly crunchy, transfer it to a paper towel lined plate.  Drain the fat and reserve 2 tablespoons for later naughtyness.

Somewhere in all of this you should have already started the water for your pasta.  So, now would be the time for you to cook said pasta.  Because you'll be using the following 7 minutes to beat your eggs together with the cream.  Then toss your cheese in with the eggs.  Now, take your pancetta pan and put it back on medium heat with your reserved fat.  Once it's warm, your pasta should be done.

Now comes the planning.  You need to get your pasta quickly and safely drained and into the pan before it can significantly cool, since it's going to save you from an ignoble death via salmonella ridden undercooked eggs.  Thats right!  The hot pasta cooks the eggs!  So stop dawdling and get it in the pan!  Give it a quick toss in the hot fat, throw in the pancetta and then pour your egg/cheese/cream mixture over the top.  Cut the heat.  Here I find it easiest to use a fork and spoon to toss the pasta and egg mixture together.  It will quickly emulsify into a creamy, gooey, bacon ridden delight.  Sprinkle with cracked black pepper and you're good to go.  I don't use any extra salt as I find there is plenty coming from the cheese and pancetta.

Get this plated and shoved into your face asap!  As it cools that sauce will sieze, so this is a one shot, eat it as you make it kind of dish.  But I dare you, no I double platipus vagina dare you to be able to walk away from a plate with even a smidgen of this God-made-food left on it.  If food could be narcissistic, I could easily understand this dish wanting to fuck itself and forsake all others.

Make it.  Eat it.  Make other people eat it.  I will wait patiently for your thanks.

-Pook

Eaiting Out from Behind

Many apologies dear readers for the belated follow up post. I figure I had best finish up the weekend review with the Sunday post before the next weekend is already here! So we left off at Saturday night, after I had been hustled into the waiting limo by my security team. Wait…that never happened. I think it was actually my girlfriend telling my drunk behind to get the hell in the car. Yea, that makes more sense.


Which brings me to Sunday! You know, art is a wonderful thing. It gives you a wonderful rush as you experience it. But a little known fact is that art also has one hell of a hangover. Combine that with the regular boozy hangover and Sunday morning is not my friend. Grub is definitely in order if we’re going to make it through the day. And drinks of course.


And then I’m told that Livingstone’s serves breakfast. WHAT?? I’ve been getting face-down there for over a decade and a half! I didn’t even know that they were open before noon. Stone’s it is then! Lead on, my magical breakfast leprechauns!


We settle in to grab a spot out on the patio and discover that our server from yesterday is again, ready, willing and waiting…on us again. Hooray! Nothing like not having to explain why everyone in your breakfast party is a board certified weirdo. So we tuck into our menus, booze is ordered and we get to make the hard decisions.

Overall it’s a pretty decent breakfasty-brunchy kind of menu. And then I see it. Dare I? I mean, after the last time I did this in Tower I was afraid that I’d be assassinated and dumped into the waste oil dumpster behind the Peach Pit. But no. I must do this. For me, for you, for America! I’m ordering their eggs benedict.

They’re pretty busy, but our food comes out before the ice in my screwdriver has much of a chance to melt. So here is my moment of truth. They look pretty good. A tablemate comments that their hollandaise appears to be bottled, but I’m not 100% sure and forgot to ask. It’s got a little pepper and what appears to be fresh parsley in it. That sorta breaks the absolute artistry of the plate, but hardly a reason to be upset. A little poke at the eggs reveals that someone in the kitchen has actually learned how to poach something! They’re a little overdone for my taste, but again, no reason for me to cry. Underneath, there is a decent slice of canukian back bacon. It’s ok, mildly smoky and has that slight nitrate tang that comes with wet packed pork. The muffin base is again, decently good. Thick and sturdy enough to hold up through the meal. It didn’t bring much taste to the dish, but it didn’t take away from it either.

In general it was a happy medium between the perfection I experienced at Gilly’s and the culinary insult that I had at Irene’s. This is what I expect from a restaurant that serves eggs benedict but doesn’t call them a specialty. It was tasty, well cooked and priced in the same arena as their other breakfast plates. I don’t know if I would outright recommend the dish to a fellow fast-breaker, but I certainly wouldn’t try to wave anyone off of it.

Also, as a pre-PS. Mrs. Eating Out Fresno wanted to jump in here with her opinion of The Works omlette with Stone’s country potatoes. She was quite pleased with her kitchen sink in an egg blanket. It was bursting at the seams with…well, everything! Looked to be spinach, avocado, mushrooms, red bell peppers and I’d guess some sausage. Hard to tell with that riot of color popping out from the egg. But she felt that the real star was her country potatoes. Personally, I flipping despise onions. I consider them a culinarily vulgar ingredient. That said though, I must admit these were some of the most beautiful country potatoes I’ve ever seen. The potatoes are crispy and nicely browned, while the peppers and onions aren’t mushy and overcooked. But the flavors are nicely mixed in the potatoes, so it’s not that they cook them separately and mix before plating. I can only guess that the potatoes are par cooked then the remaining veg is added and fried together. I might hate ‘em, but I’m sure you’ll love them.


So as we close the door on last weekend and are looking for the keys to open up the next one, I’ve come to one strong conclusion. There is a good reason that Livingstone’s is one of the only eateries in the Tower district that has survived the test of time and still resembles itself. They’re consistent, they’re kind and they love their customers. Whether you’re there for a nice dinner or just stopping in to wet your whistle, Stone’s is there for you. And I’m overjoyed about that.



-Pook

Eating Out In Pain

Dear lord!  I had no idea that one weekend of the Rogue Festival would leave me so battered, bruised and exhausted.  Not to mention exhilerated and virtually bursting at the seams with pleasure at being exposed to so much artistic energy.  And somewhere in all of this we managed to get out at eat at a few spots

First meal of the Rogue was at a personal Tower favorite, Tower Dogs.  They're known for running various imaginative specials on top of their usual menu.  This month's was a very intriguing corned beef and cabbage dog.  And unlike the caliente dog or their cali(fornia) dog, this one needs some serious re-thinking.  The corned beef that is wrapped around their usual sausage comes out too crispy from being fried, as well as having no real corned beef flavor.  Same goes for the diced and sautee'd cabbage.  Poor, mushy texture and zero cabbage flavor.  Most of the time I'm overjoyed with my dog from them, but this one was a bit of a flop.  Points that could be improved, steam your cabbage and corned beef together!  Crockpot those bad boys together the night before, shred the corned beef and slice down the cabbage, portion and refrigerate.  When it comes time to serve, take a portion, toss into the saute pan and add on top of the dog.  In theory that will enhance the flavor of both and maintain the texture one wants when dealing with corned beef and cabbage.

Livingstone's was a frequent stop for cocktails and meals over this weekend.  We were exceedingly well taken care of by our waitress and I regret not getting her name, if for no other reason, than to give her a shout out for being a prime example of excellence in service.  Thank you darlin'!

So our first meal was a post-show dinner.  Included at our table was the british burger, black and bleu pasta and their chicken nachos for me.  The burger looked tasty, good looking bacon, juicy burger without the bun being soggy.  Next was the black and bleu pasta, which was very enjoyable.  It carries a nice creamy beef flavor without being dominated by the bleu cheese.  Onto the nachos.  All around a great appetizer for a group and a fine entree for two (the full order).  The toppings are generous without turning everything into a soggy mess.  The salsa and pico aren't exactly challenging or even very warm, but they do taste good.  I'm just more partial to a spicy sauce for my nachos.  Add to this a couple of their famous (infamous when you're hungover) long island iced teas.  Another long time favorite of mine.  I don't know what makes theirs different, but Stone's LITs get you lit pretty damn fast.  And I don't mind that so much.  Definately a good base buzz before we head into the Uncle Bucky show.

After a shower of fried chicken and Mickey's big mouths, we head out with a mixture of the casts of Uncle Buckys and Cap'n Scurvy's for some after-show celibration.  Both casts were buzzing pretty strong from great performances and excellent attendance by a hip and interested Rogue crowd.  So it's definately time for some debauchery.  We move on to The Landmark where the beer is flowing and the mixed drinks float by as performers and artists mingle with fans and locals.  Rogue lends a very relaxed and happy vibe to the Tower District watering holes.  People are smiling and laughing and sharing their experiences.  They're also a bit hungry and order some french fries and some zuccini sticks to share with a tipsy food blogger in need.  Fries were normal.  Hot, crunchy outside and pillowy inside.  Not bad considering the late hour.  The zuccini sticks also were fairly good.  They came out hot and still crunchy, so there was no sitting around under a heat lamp.  The ranch was ranch.  Not exactly gourmet, but who cares?  Hot, tasty and NOW is what one's wants with their drinks and we got it.  And again, great, friendly service by our waitress.

And I guess all this silliness begs for explanation as well.  What you're witnessing here is the post show chicken feed behind the Uncle Bucky's show.  Including the artist known as the Reverend Ezekiel Ignatius Flatbottom, Cap'n Scurvy and Mr. July along with his beloved Margeurita partipating in what was called the Group Grope Wing Ding.  Room temperature chicken, excessive amounts of questionably created liquors and inadvertantly shared bodily fluids created a whirling tornado of faith, filth and unsanitary food holding practices.  Simply being in the vicinity has had me riding the red hot rocket thrust of ill conceived culinary comedy in my bathroom for the past 2 days.  C'est la vie I guess.  When food gets funny, there is bound to be some collateral damage.  And on that note, I think we'll save the review of Sunday's fare until after I can stop mewling on the little pee-catcher carpet in front of my porcelain throne.

-Pook

A Roguesplosion! All over my pants...

My lord.  If you had told me I could jam that much art and that many restaurants into my rickety frame within a 24 hour period...well I don't know what I would have called you, but it would have been complimentary.  I sit before you and my keyboard, enriched, befuddled and more that a little boozy.

So where do we go?  Art or food?  I think sausage counts.  So thats an easy lead-in for The Apocalypse Hoedown.  And I never did get my damn Pabst or indian tacos from Uncle Bucky's, just some room temperature fried chicken and a quick peep show.  Brain bleach anyone?

Sticking with the art movement, we were able to sleaze our way into the Saturday evening showing of Burnt at the Steak, which honestly blew my thong off.  Those big ass provelone balls aren't just for show.  She's gonna rub 'em in your face while spitting some serious Guido lyrics straight from '99!  Pasta fagioli!  She sings like a bird, swears like a sailor and ain't too damn hurtful on your eyes.  Best ogle her before she heads back towards cooler climes you eager beaver eaters!

Wait, this is still a food blog right?  Hell yes it is!  As pretentious as I can make it.  And now with more pictures than is practical!  To keep it under a mile long, all of the meals from tonight will be (poorly) pictorally represented.  Then, after the hangover kicks in, I'll string together the words that will make the chefs and owners want to jab my liver with a frog giggin' fork.  So before I embarass myself further...Pictures!!

I know!  It's by pure intestinal fortitude and the power of Captain Scurvy's elixer of panacea that I didn't have to change the title of this piece to Barfing Deep In the Rogue's No-No Bits.  I am well and truly stuffed and drunk enough to be a hazard to my fellow humans.  So I bid thee good morning gentle-whatevers!  Until morning and the inevitable and dreaded hangover.

Eating Out Rogue Festival

Our own internationally famous Rogue Festival is about to kick off this Thursday.  And we're doing our part by make sure to sleaze our way into the booths and tables of the unsuspecting Tower eating establishments to leave them in complete disarray.  Covered and smothered in a film of crumbs and mysterious viscous fluids.


For the performers and volunteers of the festival, the work has already begun.  The setting up of venues, the plastering of flyers, online promotion blitzes.  Final rehearsals, tweaking costumes and art projects and itineraries of which shows are a must-see.  And speaking of a show that you simply must see, I must shamelessly plug and pander to friend of the blog Captain Scurvy's Apocalypse Hoedown Revival

Vaudevillian humor and miracle alchemical healings.  Chills!  Thrills!  And absolute abject terror!  Guaranteed to make Bob Hope roll in his grave every time you see it!  So go see it!

Pandering over.  Back to our regularly scheduled snark.  We kick off Eating Out Rogue Festival by doing what we do best.  Getting drunk!  So we're off to the The Sequoia Brewing Company for some beers and some snacks.

Sequoia is a more recent incarnation of the beloved Butterfield's brewpub.  As I understand it, along with the business, Sequoia also bought Butterfield's recipes.  I was always a fan of the tower dark, but I'm more in a refreshing beer kind of mood.  So I order their German kolsh, called the Sequoia Gold.  It's pretty damn good!  It's got the lightness of a pilsner, but the bitterness is mellowed to a mild afternote.  The flavor is almost sweet, just teasing that line from the dark Munich malt.  I loved it and will certainly wind up regretting drinking plenty more.

The last 2 minutes of the USA vs. Canada hockey match was on, so we were decidedly distracted during the ordering process as we cheered the tying goal.  Poor thing, she dealt with our sophomoric bellowing in stride.  Our group ordered: potato skins, chicken fried steak, green salad, sausage plate appetizer (a re-tread of a Butterfield's favorite) and garlic fries. 

The food arrived in good time.  Especially given how busy it was on a Sunday afternoon.  The potato skins appeared fairly average.  Not exactly artful presentation, but they had fairly generous toppings.  The chicken fried steak didn't really appear to be anything special.  By appearance alone it seemed to be a pre-formed and breaded frozen patty tossed in a fryer.  However the sweet potato fries that came with it were quite good.  They come with a rather tasty aioli.  The salad was salad.  Pre-mix with bottled dressing, croutons and a few raisins.  Nothing to write home about, but adequate.

Now we come to my old favorite.  Once upon a time, this plate introduced me to amazing and wonderful sausages I had never tried.  And it allowed me to try each as an individual, similar to a cheese platter or beer sampler.  Not any more.  What I got was a red, greasey mess of muddled flavors.  The plate is supposed to come with andouille, italian and bratwurst sausages.  With all the brick colored grease, it's obvious that they've thrown all of the sliced sausages in to fry together with the onions and jalepenos.  Sadly, this results in a poorly muddled mess that, while edible, does nothing to enhance the enjoyment of a good sausage.  The fries were all right, with a dusting of parmesan and parsley, though lacking in any real garlic flavor.  I'll address the real outrage next.

Prices!  Oh my god!  This is the most lopsided menu I have ever seen in my life!  Eight dollars for french fries?  NINE for fried pickles?!?  What planet are we on, where two of the cheapest ingredients around can run you just as much as an entree?  It's fucking potatoes and pickles!!!  A burger is a buck fifty more and it COMES WITH FRIES!  I'll concede that the food is edible, even tasty in some instances.  But if I'm paying entree prices for some damn french fries there had better be some sort of magical theater or art applied to them.  Send out a crying mime to weep over my empty wallet.  Instead of ranch, send them out with some lidocaine booty butter lubricant so we don't need butt doughnuts to sit down after we get the check.  Tickle my no-no's!  Something!

All in all, Sequoia is a fine brewery that still serves cold and tasty beer.  As a restaurant though, they need to make a decision to smarten up their menu as well as their presentation.  The sausages were a mess, the chicken fried steak was an embarassment and the price gouging for seasoned fries was outright astounding.  If you're peckish, their chips and salsa are only two bucks.  Is nothing complimentary any more?  Sheesh!  The dinner menu appears a little more on the reasonable side, but the appetizers just aren't worth what you pay.  So, you might want to toast your friends on a full stomach.

-Pook