Eating Out Your Lovin’ Buns

Ahhh, love sweet love. What could be more romantic than a day dedicated to one sided gift giving and the exchange of poorly worded missives of lust? Well, we do it a little different in EOF town! Rather than jumping through the hoops of convention, we’ve broken St. Valentine’s down to its more hedonistic roots.

This usually entails a trip over to Whole Foods or some other specialty food retailer for a kaleidoscopic selection of tidbits and drinkables and confections. This year, we weren’t so keen on the last two ducks in the steam table and the rest just didn’t seem to fit our appetites. So I came up with the idea to have our entrees over at BB’s Lounge. Figuring it, being a lounge, would be fairly open and accessible, as opposed to every other place groaning under the weight of their horny patrons bellowing for more free bread.

And it turned out that I was fairly correct. The bar was lightly populated, there were a couple tables open and it didn’t feel “slammed”. Oh how fucking wrong I was! Their first fuckup, we sat at the bar for 10 minutes while the lone waitress/bartender seemed to simply be running around with no plates, making no drinks and addressing no patrons. Ah well, give it a minute, right? Again, bad idea. Someday I’ll be smart enough to start acting on my gut instinct in restaurants, but then again, how would I ever give a properly bad review? Got bad vibe from restaurant, ate somewhere else, feel smug. Hardly riveting.

To continue on the suck parade, the bartender finally comes to us and asks if we were there for dinner. We give the affirmative. She asks if we’d like to sit at the bar, but noticing two unoccupied tables, it seems stupid to loom over dinner at the bar when we could sit back and relax into our hedonism. We’re assured that they will clear the table and have us seated immediately. Patience has paid off, yes?

Nope! First off, it takes another 15 minutes for the baffled bottled redhead to bus a table. I feel the spidey sense tingle start to go off like an industrial vibrator in my medulla oblongata. Suddenly, two well dressed types appear from the back area and proceed to hover around “our” table. Steady….obviously the people working here are too stupid to discuss this with, so blowing up at them is useless. I’d use words far too large for them to understand like “unacceptable”. Aaaaand here it comes.

After 30 minutes, during which at no point did anyone even offer to take a drink order (we were sitting at the BAR!), the special needs bartender shamefacedly comes to us to explain that Giulia’s next door is sending their overflow into THIS establishment and that my promised table was out promised by some cuntburger that I couldn’t even have the satisfaction of spraying with spittle as I sputtered my indignation. And as a consolation, we’re offered…to wait another half hour for a fucking table! This lackluster human being and substandard employee didn’t even have the firing brain cells to point out that we were already in chairs at a table-like device and could just put our orders in. Resisting the urge to pneumatically propel a gobbet of oral digestive fluids into her uncomprehending eye, we chose the better part of valor and beat feet.

Rather than let the fact that I’ll never set foot in BB’s Lounge or it’s parent restaurant Giulia’s, short of going to gloat over their closed façade ruin the evening, we set back out in search of our entrée. Considering that even DiCiccio’s (pronounced Dee Sick Eee Oh’s) was overflowing with corpulent humanity, a brick and mortar eating establishment is out of the question at this point. As we ponder, I mention that we might as well opt for an ironic twist to the evening and go for pizza. Strangely, the idea sticks and we beeline right back to Whole Foods, praying that they haven’t shut off the oven for the night.

As we burst back in, rushing to the hot food section, I see that there is still a reassuring flicker of good honest fire coming from the brick oven. Sadly, they’re a little bit broken down, but their lovely pizza chef was more than willing to throw together a one-off pie for a desperate and disgruntled couple. After confusing her with contradicting descriptions of what we wanted, she was finally able to winnow down to what would be our actual order. Red sauce, fresh mozzarella, salami, pepperoni, basil and artichoke hearts, all on a nice thin somewhat soft, crackery crust.

Goals finally achieved, we bomb back to the pad for our celebration. We pop a bottle of Prosecco, an Italian sparkling wine. It’s fairly tasty, but closer to domestic champagnes than our usual Moet. A bit sharper and a little too dry. But certainly a high brow accompaniment to our pizza dinner and our magical panoply of goodies. Embarrassingly, we enjoyed the pizza so much that we were far too full to get into the cheeses, olives and pickled okra that we had planned to snack on, or the ice cream treats that we had so coveted just an hour prior. But we did get to enjoy our his and hers desserts that we picked up in the bakery. She enjoyed a nice fruit tart that the baker had sweetly retopped with fresher fruit and I, a couple small chocolate cups with a smooth chocolate mousse and berries.

All in all, Valentines worked out nicely for the general domestic tranquility of the Eating Out Fresno household. Whole Foods did a good job of stepping up and I’ve got to compliment their staff on being extremely friendly and helpful. Conversely, our semi-brief experience at BB’s Lounge was one of the most unprofessional moments I’ve had in any business in Fresno, much less a restaurant. It’s especially shocking because we had previously had a very positive experience there. But 100% and 0% still average out to an F. It looks like we’ll be on the hunt for another decent Italian restaurant to patronize. Because seriously, fuck BB’s Lounge.


-Pook

The Eating Out Fresno Mystery Dish Scavenger Hunt!

So here’s how it’s gonna work. Below I’m going to give some strange and fanciful descriptions for the ingredients to one of our own recipes that has been posted on the blog. Once you know what the ingredients are and which recipe they’re for, then it’s up to you to cook the recipe at home (or wherever you have access to a kitchen). Once the dish is finished, take a picture of the finished product and include somewhere in the photo a bottle of your favorite drink. Doesn’t have to be alcohol, just some preferred drinkable. Then take your picture and post it on the Eating Out Fresno fan page on Facebook, or you can send it privately to me via e-mail.

Everyone who picks the right dish and sends us a picture of it is eligible for a prize of either 5 peter pepper seeds for you to grow at your leisure, or if you’re local to Fresno and don’t mind picking it up, a peter pepper seedling of your very own to care for. Supplies are limited and subject to germination rates and good ole mother nature, so once we’re out of supplies, we’re out. 1 entry per household please. So get your shopping lists together and have some fun!

The Mystery Ingredients!

#1: You can find me year round in most supermarkets. I like to hang out south of the border, chillin in my favorite color of green. But chill, I am not. Indeed, I’m well known for bringing a bit of heat wherever I go. Also, you’ll need 6 of me.

#2: I’m a smooth and creamy character from good ole Philadelphia PA! Some like me in the morning with my good buddy Lox. Today, you’re only going to need a half package of me.

#3: Cheesy? How dare you! Why I ought take my orange nuclear fists of fire and burn out thy taste buds sir! Just because I’m a composite being of dairy and fire, gives you no reason to mock me. 4 ounces worth of pain.

#4: Stop staring! I know that most sausages of my kind are limp and cold. But I sir am from Spain! And here we’re well preserved and rigid and spicy enough to make the long journey to the New World with my 2 tablespoons.

#5: It’s good to be a pig. It’s better to be a Spanish pig. It’s even better to be an Iberican pig from the balmy shores of Serrano. But if you can’t find me, I supposed you could deal with that Parmesan Pig that I see everywhere. 6 slices, nevertheless.

#6: Red and mild, I remind you of your Pappy, Rico. I like tablespoons and chilling out in chili powders.

#7: Hey! Didn’t that one guy try to pass me off as pot back in Jr. High? Was he from Oregon or something? Sheesh, tablespoon.

#8: Hey remember that mild and red guy? Well I ain’t mild. As a matter of fact, I cayen’t think of anything else I’d top my pizzas with. And a little of me shure goes a loooong way.

#9: Hi! I’m Piper! And I’m a pretty popular dude. Though why people like to crack my black ass so much is beyond me. I just like the attention. Use me as you’d like.

Well, there you go everbody!  Good luck and good cooking to you all!  The deadline for the constest is 6:00pm (PST) Saturday, February 5th, 2011.

Eating Out: The Anniversary

Well good friends and dear readers, here we are. At a place where, 365 days ago, I’d have probably scoffed at it’s potential for reality. It seems that somehow, by hook or crook, Eating Out Fresno has been posting culinary nonsense about our hometown for a year now!

That first post feels and looks like it was done a lot longer ago than a year. And it was that first dish that helped to establish the belligerently drunk voice by which EOF is bellowed across the cosmos. All started with the wildly inebriated urge while camping for a hearty breakfast to pass out after. I can still remember sitting in the crisp morning air next to the fire, trying to dry out a soaked pant leg and eagerly shoving thyme seasoned potatoes and bacon into my gob with such a sense of happiness and completion. That’s when I knew that it was food that I truly cared about and loved above all other subjects.

And since our dear friend Scurvy had been crawling up our butt for months to get out of the Hobbit Hole and start being creative on my own. It dovetailed nicely with the drunken revelation and Eating Out Fresno was born. Funny that the intent was to focus on restaurant reviewing, yet the first post was a recipe. And that theme has stuck for a lot of reasons, mostly interactions with real Fresno people who are curious about food.

Most often when I’m gabbing about food with actual human Fresnans, more often than not they’re interested in technique or ingredients or curious about entirely new cuisines. But almost none of them are curious as to where they can buy it at a restaurant or are in the least bit curious as to what restaurant is better than another. So really, the reviews we do, seem to be more for my own pleasure at getting to praise or prod a given local eatery based on our given experience. Which I do still enjoy.

Well, enjoy and dread. You see, when I step in to a restaurant, I almost forget that I’m there to be critical. I used to work in one, so whenever I totter into the front of house, I get that “at home” feeling one gets when they’re comfortable at their job. I like to observe how the crew interacts and gets their job done. And should everything run smoothly, I’m so busy being pleased that I’ve almost forgotten that I’m there to be critical. Conversely, when it goes off the rails as we’re being seated, I’m more like the evil secret shopper sent from corporate. Veins bulging, observing every wasted moment, overhearing salty banter from the kitchen, weighing individuals reactions to figure out how much spit is in my entrée. Really, the asshole that the blog was initially meant to portray.

But overall, Fresno has too many of the former type of experiences for me to reliably write in the latter type of headspace. Mainly because too many good restaurants would get caught in the crossfire. And that would, in my eyes, be a violation of the troth that one swears when they become a kitchenite. Good food and good service deserve to have praise lavished on them. It’s a tough job sometimes and to be able to pull it off in style is praise worthy. At the same time, screw ups, lazy fuckoffs and debutantes ruin meals and evenings. And those fuckers deserve every bit of vitriol that can be spat, simply because they make the star players look like chumps. Nobody wants those types of places and people around, they ruin good times and good ingredients.

Now the types of people you WANT around would be the many friends that we’ve become close to over the year. Of course, there is the aforementioned Scurvy of Cap’n Scurvy’s Ragnarok Hootenanny Jamboree. I’ve really got to offer him my thanks in getting me off of my creative butt. I kept swearing that the blog was just a writing exercise, but in all honesty it has become a pleasurable passion. Then of course there is Chef Delaney Boling from the Valley411.com Not only is he a great chef and blogger, but we also have in common that we’re refugees from the same substandard re-educational gulag! He was one of the first pros in the food world to give us a bit of encouragement and even allowed us to guest blog on his home site. Not to mention we had such a great time catching up on the past and discussing the culinary cornucopia laid out before us at the Celebration of Wine.

Of course, I’d be remiss in not mentioning the mayor of the Tower District and interweb TeeVee phenomenon Chuck Leonard. We met over at the Mike Briggs studios during the lead up to the Rogue Festival. A few weeks later while taking in the show, I noticed that Airplane Jayne was planning on shaving poor Mr. Leonard bald, but they had no shears to make him shorn. So quick like a bunny into the bathroom, I grab my manscaping shears, blow the pubes off the blades and head out to Tower. And wouldn’t you know it, he was so grateful at their pain-free performance (hey, I like a close shave too!) that he offered us a cooking segment on his 2 hour showstravaganza! And ever since, each week we get to pull some harebrained semi-portable meal idea into the studio and try not to fuck it all up in a half hour. I’ve really got to offer my thanks to both Chuck and Mike for giving me the opportunity to have so much fun with food, not to mention getting to feed cast, crew and the awesome locals that pass through the studio.

Who else? Well of course there is the infamous Mrs. EOF, who supports, advises, proofreads, edits, finances and just about everything else for the blog. There is no other woman on Earth who has been as supportive and kind to a drunk loudmouth with a passion. To say Eating Out Fresno wouldn’t exist without her is an understatement. I would know less than 10% of what I know about food if it weren’t for her loving support and sharing in my love and curiosity of all things food. Give me a chefs knife, a cast iron skillet and her and I can conquer the world.

And there are so many more! Joe Osejo, the Eye of Fresno, for giving me my first shot at mixology. Andy, Jeph and Fish for showing me that you can make ANYTHING in a pizza broiler if you’re creative enough. Ben “Evil Robot” Toth for being the first person I ever saw make stuffed cannelloni using only a British commando dagger and a baking pan. Mom, for teaching me to cook. Dad, for teaching me that sometimes you’re a much better cook when you’re blackout drunk.

But the most important kudos have to go to you, the readers. Afterall, if you weren’t reading this, it really would just be a writing exercise. And seriously, the feedback that I get from y’all is like a fresh batch of heroin to Keith Richards. I’m positively giddy any time I get to interact with you or find out that you’ve tried out one of the recipes and made it your own.

So, to show my appreciation to you the readers, we will be putting on: The Eating Out Fresno Mystery Dish Scavenger Hunt! Here’s how it’s going to work. On Monday I will post a list of ingredient clues that you’ll have to guess and then bring home and figure out which of our previously posted recipes that they belong to. Then it’s up to you to cook the dish and post a picture of it on the Eating Out Fresno facebook page (or you can e-mail it to me if you hate social networking). As many as possible who get it right will have their choice between 5 peter pepper seeds OR 1 peter pepper seedling plant. So you too can add pornographically hilarious spice to your cooking! (limited supply on hand, pepper seedlings subject to the fickle hand of Nature, seedlings unshippable, so you gotta meet me somewhere in Fresno, etc)

Happy Anniversary y’all!!

-Pook