Why "The Drunken Goat"?

 Image courtesy of The Kitchn

A lot of people have been asking me, "Why drunken goat?" The answer is simple: the drunken goat is one of my favorite cheeses.

It's from the Murcia region of southeastern Spain and is distinguished by its dark purple or burgundy rind. The cheese gets its unique coloration from being soaked in red wine for several days and then aged for 75 days. How can anything soaked in wine not be completely amazing?

Murcia al vino as it's called in Spain is a semi-soft cheese with a mild, yet tangy flavor. It's not going to be a cheese plate scene stealer like a bold blue (cabrales) or a rich, buttery rind cheese (delice de bourgogne or fromage d'affinois). But for me, drunken goat has always held its own in its understated yet extremely flavorful way.

I happen to think drunken goat is best enjoyed on a cheese plate surrounded by fruit, figs and a glass of full-bodied grenache, although it pairs well with virtually everything (as noted in this great post from The Kitchn, "Booze's Best Bud: Drunken Goat Cheese.")

Sins Of Restaurant Service

In a city with so many well-run restaurants, I always find it a bit shocking when I have a meal out that is so epically bad that it leaves me wondering, "What the heck is going on in this establishment?"

I recently scoped out a newer gastropub that opened last fall. An outstanding menu, ample outdoor space and enticing beer and cocktail offerings made it a great option for a mid-week summer night. From service to food quality to pacing, the entire experience was very unfortunate.

While I'm not going to spend this post dissecting what went wrong, the experience did get me thinking about the deadly sins of restaurant service. These are the things that make me crazy when I'm dining out. Granted, this meal didn't have all of the faux pas outlined below, but it was definitely batting .500.

1.  If our water glass is empty, we have a problem. I probably should have seen the writing on the wall when it took 15 minutes for us to even get water the other night.

Overripe, mealy tomatoes make for a caprese disaster.
What a mess. 

2. If it's not fresh, don't serve it. If it's overripe, don't serve it. If the protein seems questionable, don't serve it. If a restaurant doesn't want to deal with these fundamentals, then it should strip down the menu, rebrand itself as a bar and start serving frozen chicken fingers.

3. Don't bring the appetizer at the same time as the entree.  An appetizer is an appetizer for a reason, so pace it accordingly.

4. "Are you ready to order yet?" "Are you ready now?" "Are you done yet?" "Do you want dessert?" The last question is my favorite, especially when we're still working on our entrees. I totally understand and appreciate a restaurant's need to turn tables, I really do. Even if the food is outstanding, though, rushing a diner out ruins the experience.

'"Lay off me, I'm starving!" Don't
comment on how much a
patron orders. 

5. So let's just say it's winter, and the Chicago Bears have lost a particularly devastating playoff game. And, let's just say that three hungry, mildly over-served Bears fans are looking to drown their sorrows in some deep dish on a frigid Sunday night. Making comments such as, "Wow, you guys sure ordered a lot of food for just the three of you..." and "You sure must like to eat" are totally unnecessary. Maybe we want leftovers? Maybe I like to try a lot of different things? Maybe it's none of your business?!  

6. When things aren't going well, managers should acknowledge the issue and do what they can to right the experience. No, a shot of Old Crow will not make me feel better, please just bring me my caprese salad. And, in what universe does a shot of Old Crow go with a caprese salad anyway? (Yes, this actually happened.)

What restaurant service sins make you crazy?

Burger Bliss at Kuma's Corner

The Megadeath burger: bloody and ready
for consumption. 

After five years and three foiled attempts, I finally made it to Kuma's Corner, a heavy metal bar located in Chicago's Avondale neighborhood. It's known for a few things: a cramped kitchen (16x6 to be precise), loud metal music and the best burgers within city limits. 

Kuma's is also notorious for its excessively long waits. Patient patrons can expect to wait more than two hours on a weeknight or weekend to taste one of Kuma's coveted burgers. Arrive hungry and you will surely end up fighting with your dining partner while you're waiting outside on the sidewalk.

I hadn't planned on writing about my visit to Kuma's. It has been covered so many times, and I wasn't sure I'd have much else to add to the discussion. 

However, my Lair of the Minotaur burger (brie, caramelized onions, pancetta, bourbon poached pear) was simply one of the greatest burgers of my lifetime; I couldn't not post about it on The Drunken Goat Dispatches.  

The bourbon poached pear offered
a slightly sweet contrast to the salty pancetta and brie.

The large roll served as a sturdy (but no overbearing) base for the thick, well-seasoned burger. The toppings were perfectly portioned, making for a well-constructed burger that stayed together with every large, heaping bite.

To say that Kuma's set the bar high for all future burgers is an understatement. I admit to even soaking up the extra burger grease with my remaining french fries. I simply didn't want it to end. 

By the Numbers: ElBulli

On July 30, 2011, ElBulli, the famed restaurant of Ferran Adria, closed its doors.

ElBulli is located in a national park on Spain's Costa Brava

In the days and weeks leading up to and following the restaurant's closing, bloggers and food writers around the world covered it at nauseam. TIME called its closing festivities "The Night ElBulli Danced," while Slate celebrated the death of the "I Ate at ElBulli" piece penned by so many food writers. Even financial outlets like the Wall Street Journal and Bloomberg got in on the act.

This is not a post about molecular gastronomy, haute cuisine or the impact of ElBulli's closing and legacy. I've never eaten at ElBulli and certainly never will.

What I did find amazing as I was reading the coverage was considering ElBulli by the numbers:

• Number of chefs: 42 
• Ratio of reservation applications to places: 250:1 (Note: Nearly two million applications are received each year for 8,000 places) 
• Number of courses: 35
• Average length of dinner: 6 hours 
• Cost: $320 
• Number of times ElBulli has received Restaurant Magazine's "Best Restaurant in the World" honors: 5 (2002, 2006, 2007, 2008 and 2009; it was #2 in 2010) 

Curious to find out what all the fuss is about?

Anthony Bourdain recently dedicated an entire episode of No Reservation to ElBulli. It was beautiful, poignant and clearly very personal. Read his blog post about the show, A Beginning. An End, for a candid perspective on what ElBulli means to him.

Or you can just watch him make his way through the 30-plus courses here:

The Pizza Predicament

Last fall, a couple stopped me on the street in Bucktown and asked kindly, "We have a question for you. We're trying to figure out where to eat tonight. What's your favorite pizza place in Chicago?"

My response? "Well, that's kind of a loaded question..."

50 States, 50 Pizzas: Pequod's was highlighted
as one ofIllinois' best. Do you agree?

Did they want to eat several slices or one? Did they want to go out afterwards or immediately pass out in a pizza coma? How important was crust to them? Were they thinking classic toppings (pepperoni, mushroom, sausage) or did they want mozzarella di bufala, imported prosciutto and heirloom tomatoes?

I had so many questions.

People everywhere are passionate about pizza. Look no further than the Food Network's recent 50 States, 50 Pizzas feature to see that the nation's obsession with pizza knows no bounds. In Chicago, we're fortunate enough to have a wide of range regional favorites at our finger tips.

With so many options, how do you find your favorite, go-to, standby pizza? This is the pizza predicament, and it's a good problem to have. While the search continues for my go to, here are a few of my favorite, regionally-inspired and crave-worthy pizzas.

This is well worth the extra time on the treadmill.

Chicago: I admit to having a love-hate relationship with Chicago's revered deep dish. I love a good Lou Malnati's uncut pizza during a football game on a Sunday in November. I hate that I can't eat more than a slice or two without immediately feeling like I need to have my cholesterol checked and/or enroll myself into a weight-loss clinic. I love the butter crust and plum tomato sauce. I hate how my skinny jeans fit the next day. Is it worth it in the end? You bet it is.

New Haven: Modern Apizza and Pepe's in New Haven, Connecticut made this style of pizza legendary. As an East Coast native I was thrilled to see New Haven-style pizza at Piece when I first moved here five years ago. With its on-premise microbrewery and live band karaoke on Saturday nights,  Piece in many ways has an edge over the New Haven-based counterparts of my childhood. My favorite is eating the sausage, spinach and ricotta pizza while catching up on the Red Sox on one of Piece's many flat screens.

Quad Cities: I had my first encounter with Quad Cities pizza at Roots on Chicago Avenue in West Town a few weekends ago. I wasn't quite sure what to expect, but I was intrigued by Roots' famous malt crust and assortment of midwest microbrews. My IPA paired perfectly with the prosciutto, mushroom and mozzarella pizza, and the malt crust - with its chewy consistency and slight touch of sweetness - countered the mild heat in the sauce. Other than Pequod's burnt, buttery pan pizza crust, I can't think of another crust that has made an impression on me quite like Roots.

Proof that God loves cheese: mozzarella di bufala campana 

Naples: Anthony Bourdain's recent No Reservations episode on Naples left me craving authentic, brick oven pizza.  Thankfully, I didn't have to look much farther than La Madia in River North to meet this craving. The large brick oven at the heart of the open kitchen and brings a warmth (both literally and figuratively) to the restaurant. Its margherita (mozzarella di bufala campana, tomato, torn basil), Parma classic (mozzarella, tomato sauce, prosciutto di Parma, arugula), taleggio with three-hour roasted grapes and housemade fennel sausage and sweet onion pizzas are all standouts (as is La Madia's pizza fondue).

Whether you're needing greasy salvation after a late Saturday night or looking for a thin brick oven pizza, the options are endless. The pizza predicament is a delicious problem to have, especially in a place like Chicago. The best part? I've barely even scratched the surface here. What have I missed? Leave a comment and let me know.

Why We Eat

We eat for a lot of reasons. We eat to feel satisfied. We eat to belong. We eat to celebrate the high-points and be comforted at the low-points. We eat to be stronger and healthier. We eat to socialize. We eat to explore new countries, cultures and cuisines. We eat because sometimes it's easier to get business done over a satisfying meal versus a never-ending conference call.

Eating gives us fuel to do amazing things like run marathons.  Eating gives us a reason to gather and reconnect. Eating unites us across continents and divides. Eating cures hangovers.

We eat to remember what it was like to sit at our mom's kitchen table. We eat to feel whole again. We eat to feel transported to another time and place.We eat for a lot of reasons...these are just some of mine.

The Drunken Goat Dispatches will explore the joys of food and eating its many forms: fancy meals, greasy meals, classic-comfort meals, healthy meals and long-sprawling-god-I-hope-this-never ends meals.

Thank you for reading and following The Drunken Goat Dispatches. A special thanks also to my friends and family who encouraged me to marry my two passions: eating and writing.

"Food without wine is a corpse; wine without food is a ghost; united and well-matched they are as body and soul, living partners." ~Andre Simon