Broward Palm Beach Food Blog

Photo by Flicker user gastrodamus

Crack pie: Do not try to smoke this.

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In case you've been in a cave and haven't seen it, the foodie talk about Crack Pie is burning up the net.

Jamesbeard.org

Chang

​The pie's the product of David Chang's Momofuku's Bakery and Milk Bar in Manhattan, where it sells for a very cool $44 per pie.But: It's legal and gives a high of a perfect sort, once those endorphins rush around after the first unctuous bite.

What's it like? Pecan pie, sort of, without the nuts. Only more buttery, richer (eight egg yolks - oh my!) and a silken texture, all settled neatly into an oatmeal cookie crust.

Want to try your hand at it? I've tweaked the recipe to correct early versions out there. This one's not too tough and comes mighty close to the real deal - but won't cost you $40 to ship.

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​The basic elements of human life are oxygen, carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, calcium, phosphorus, garlic, and olive oil.

Or at least that's idea at Agliolio. Newly opened in Wellington, the casual, family-friendly pastatorium-slash-wine bar gets its name from the Italian "aglio" (garlic) and "olio" (oil) and features a have-it-your-way menu that allows diners to partner eight kinds of fresh pasta (rigatoni, bucatini, tagliatelle, and angel hair among them) with seven sauces (aglio e olio, pesto, pomodoro and vodka, to name some) and

Photo by Riki Altman

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Mall fast food is a pretty goddamned dismal mouthful, but this little joint in CityPlace has gotten enough foodie buzz for Charlie to put his intestinal tract on the line and check it out. 

Italian Oven Café is the sole and way-slimmed-down survivor of the Pittsburgh-based Italian Oven chain that got up to 100-plus units in the U.S. and Australia before crashing and burning in the mid-1990s. It's a cute place with a sort of generic-moderne décor, done up in soothing earth tones with lots of comfy booths and the look and feel of a semi-upscale café.

​If you are or have ever been a cubicle slave, you know a good, cheap lunch that isn't one more ham-and-cheese or tuna sandwich can bring a tiny speck of light into the daily grind of pounding big rocks into little rocks for The Man. 

Of course, you don't have to be a cubicle slave or desk drone to appreciate the arepas at Richard Klein's new Arepera on Clematis Street in West Palm Beach, though the folks who live and work in the general vicinity are obvious targets of the modest little eatery on the ground floor of the Via Jardin building. 

Arepas, if you don't know, are the national sandwich of Venezuela, small, chewy rounds of corn-flour dough that are sliced in half and filled with just about anything you want. They're also the focus of the short menu at Arepera (like, duh), though you can also get a salad and a handful of sides and desserts.

John Linn

They're nekkid!

Photos by Bill Citara

The world's most omnivorous, omnipresent purveyor of junk food is now crashing the rather more upscale salons of junque cuisine. 

That would be McDonald's, which last week spat up a trio of 100 percent Angus beef burgers. Launched to compete with the tonier patties of eateries like Five Guys, Fuddruckers, and Cheeburger Cheeburger, the Angus burgers feature a "premium" braided sesame seed bun and various toppings intended to be more life-like than the DOA garnishes of its proletarian cousins. The third-of-a-pound burgers come in Deluxe, Mushroom & Swiss, and Bacon & Cheese guises and will set you back $3.99. They will also contribute from 750 to 790 calories to your steadily expanding gut or thighs, 350 to 360 of those calories from fat. 

So what does the damned thing taste like?

"What is patriotism but the love of the food one ate as a child?" ~Lin Yutang

Bonus vocab word: "Globesity." Coined by the World Health Organization

http://www.flickr.com/photos/revjim5000/

You gotta give it up for Grease Burger Bar. . . the name tells you everything you need to know about this Clematis Street newbie.

There's a bar, a big one, about half a city block long -- all dark, hulking wood lit by bare bulbs hanging from meathooks suspended from the ceiling. There are burgers, 10-ounce patties as thick and big around as truck tires -- eight different kinds, ground fresh daily and hand-shaped, with stuff like cheese and bacon and onions and even a fried egg to customize them with until you can't fit your gums around the thing.

And there is grease. Bite into one of these bad boys and the juices and molten fat dribble all over your chin and pool on your paper-covered plate. But you know what they say: fat = flavor. And Grease's burgers are pretty good, at least if you order them medium-rare, which the kitchen hits with admirable consistency. (If you order a burger anything past medium you deserve that mouthful of beef-infused sawdust.)

You can order your burger with chili, green it with organic, free-range beef from Brandt Farms in California (the priciest patty on the menu at $11.95; the others range from $7.95 to $10.95). Or wuss out with a turkey or veggie burger. (But why?)

Of course, any burger demands fries, and at Grease these come in portions large enough to feed three, gorge two or send one into cholesterol shock. They're skinny and crisp, with a suspiciously crunchy coating that suggests Sysco's Imperial Phantom Plus frozen french fries or some facsimile thereof. But they're fried and potatoes, and accompanied by a splot of catsup and a fat, greasy burger. What's more Amurkin than that?

Most of us have at least one or two "fond memories" (which may be code for: burned into the brain traumas) of Mother in the kitchen -- whether she was a gourmet cook or a baked-beans-in-a-can afficionado. 

My own mom was no great whiz at the stove. We ate a lot of canned weenies and beanies during the week -- she let my Dad do most of the weekend dinners and Sunday breakfasts. But there are a few things she made that I really loved. Like after the first snowfall, she'd go out and get a bowl of fresh snow and make sno-cones for us. She loved to make pineapple upsidedown cake and brownies with walnuts. She had a great recipe for pork chops in tomato sauce that's a meal I still make today: totally easy and really delicious. And for special occasions she made the best pot de creme I've ever tasted, served in beautiful gold-rimmed tiny porcelain cups (she still sometimes makes this, if I beg her). She also religiously watched every single episode of Julia Child's "The French Chef" on an old black and white portable TV we kept in the kitchen. Not that she ever tried her hand at cassoulet.

As for worst memories? One time she didn't have any eggs or real milk, so she tried making pancakes in the morning with just flour and powdered milk and water. They were so bad they made my little sister cry.

Below, a couple of my mom's recipes (the good ones). We'd love to hear some of yours. Or  tell us what foods your Mom cooked that you really loved. It'll be good practice -- on Sunday, you can tell her.

June's Sno-Cones
Makes four servings.

Go outside and get a bowl of freshly fallen snow.
With an ice cream scoop, place one ball in each of four cups.
Drizzle with condensed milk, thinned with a little water, to which you have added a drop or two of vanilla flavoring.
[alternately: sprinkle with sugar in which a vanilla bean has been buried for a month or two.]

Eat.

June's Italian Style Pork Chops
Serves 4

4 pork chops
olive oil
One onion
two cloves garlic
one 28 oz can tomatoes
chopped thyme
fresh basil

Preheat oven to 350.

Season four pork chops with salt and pepper on each side and rub with olive oil. Heat a cast iron pan until very hot and sear chops on both sides so you get a nice carmelized crust on each side -- they don't have to be cooked all the way through. Set aside.

Make the tomato sauce. Thinly slice onion and chop garlic. Heat a couple of tbsp of olive oil in a heavy non-reactive pan. Add onions and garlic and saute over medium heat about 5 minutes, taking care not to burn garlic. Add chopped thyme and stir. Add can of tomatoes with their juice, either squeezing tomatoes in your hand first or mushing them up with a spoon after adding. Season with salt and pepper and cook down until it has thickened a little.

Place chops and their juice in an ovenproof dish, in a single layer. Pour the tomato sauce over the chops so that they are submerged in sauce. Cover with foil and bake for about 30 minutes (depending on thickness of chops).

When chops are done, remove to plates, sprinkle with chopped fresh basil, and serve with rice.

Yum.

 
 

Courtesy of Lola's Cupcakery

As far as desserts go, what's better than a cupcake? Think about it: these morsels of goodness are self-contained, portable, portion-controlled, and, when done right, can taste pretty swell. And now, they're showing up on Las Olas. Lola's Cupcakery is a new venture from Toronto restaurateur, Donald Kaplan, and his wife Laura (she's the "Lola"). The pair wanted to bring high-end cupcakes to an area that really has none, and their new storefront at 1523 E. Las Olas Blvd. will do just that. The store opens this weekend, and, as of now, will be take-out only. (The Kaplans have already applied for a change of use permit to allow in-store cupcaking.) Lola's will also deliver for orders of two dozen or more to just about anywhere in Broward, to the tune of $82 (a single cupcake runs $3.25).

I could never get it straight: Was Karu the restaurant and Y the lounge, or vice versa? No matter now, as the reopened venue's newly christened restaurant name is Seecomar's at Karu & Y, which I thought was a misspelling of Seacomber's until I saw that the new owner's name is Clive Seecomar.

Karu's (or Y's) executive chef was Arturo Paz (pictured above), who returns in the same capacity at Seecomar's. The menu is different, although stylistically in sync with Paz' past work -- he tends to utilize at least a few potently flavored ingredients in each dish. For instance, here's an old Karu dish of seared diver scallops with rice, pastrami, fried egg and cucumber salad:


Seecomar's offers a starter of pastrami-crusted beef carpaccio with shaved fennel and truffles ($18), and a main course of spice-rubbed ostrich with Manchego-flecked polenta, oyster mushrooms and Ribera del Duero sauce ($34). Sushi chef Hugo Meza puts out a short but creative menu with offerings such as the Clive roll of green curried tuna, scallions, avocado, spicy mayo and sriracha sauce ($20) -- and a Hawaiian roll with shrimp tempura, cream cheese, baked pineapple skin, mango salsa and yuzu syrup ($18).


--Lee Klein

Rybak's Café premieres tonight at at 177 SW 7th Street in Miami (at the bottom level of the Latitudes building, just off Brickell Avenue). The 204-seater is being billed as "a laid back, uniquely hip bistro, featuring creative, moderately priced international cuisine, a classy bar/lounge, live entertainment and a 24-hour coffee shop café." Copper walls, brown marble floor tiles, chocolate leather banquettes, and a floor-to-ceiling wine "cellar" lend the locale its' desired "cigar room feel".

Executive chef is Garrette Gray, whose eclectic menu includes starters ($6-$17) such as pan roasted scallops with smoked duck, shiitake mushrooms, poached pears and natural thyme jus; fish entrees ($24-$34) like grouper with braised callaloo, potato conch fritter, roasted red pepper and lemongrass broth; and meats ($24-$56) like grilled veal chop crusted with Sansyo Japanese pepper and pooled in sake apple reduction. Executive pastry chef Mika Kochi will produce pastries and breads on premise. Open for lunch and dinner until midnight on weekdays, 1:00 a.m. Fridays and Saturdays; the coffee shop, as stated, never closes.

--Lee Klein

Miami DJ Cedric Gervais and partner Juan Carlos Dominguez are opening their Hed Kandi Lounge tonight. Located in the former Afterglo space (1200 Washington Avenue, Miami), this "gastro-lounge" will showcase molecular gastronomy. For those who aren't sure what this means, let's just say that the photo above is of flying bacon plantains, and the one below is the bruschetta:

The name comes from the UK-based label Hed Kandi, and music played here will be curated from that inventory. The lounge aspect is a major one, and there promises to be "high-octane dance-floor glamour".

--Lee Klein

Another day, another restaurant debut. After a soft opening in November, Canyon Ranch Grill  in Canyon Ranch Miami Beach (6900 Collins Ave.) is set to go public. Chef Alex Asteinza oversees the Canyon canon of healthful foods that fit with the spa's "wellness lifestyle". Starters, $9 to $16, include:

Pumpkin seed crusted poblano pepper stuffed with shrimp and goat cheese and shrimp, the latter being Laughing Bird Shrimp from a low impact "acquaculture" farm in Belize.

Black bass tiradito with red miso smear, house-pickled jalapeño and a squeeze of lime.

Seared watermelon with tomato salad topped with red wine vinegar syrup and basil seed.

Sardine stuffed with preserved lemon, sage and tarragon.

Main courses, $22 to $30, include:

Sassafras-wrapped grouper with corn truffle croquette, roasted tomato and duck prosciutto.

Glazed, lavendar-stuffed quail with späetzle, green fig & cipollini onions.

Fresh vegetable "pasta" ribbons with chili, mint, mushroom Bolognese sauce.

Vegetable dishes are $9 to $13, an example being Spinach and Napa cabbage rolls with garbanzos and fennel pollen in smoked paprika broth. Paradise Farms in Homestead provides some of the produce. There are a few red meat products on the menu as well, like rack of lamb and braised bison short ribs.


It all sounds pretty tempting, and I'm also looking forward to having a cuppa organic tea in The Conservatory -- which will serve cocktails and tapas as well.

--Lee Klein

If you weren't at Pink Ghost Saturday night you missed one hell of treat: Not only was it the premier of the Ghostie's Eight-by-Eight art show, but it was also the launch party for the Purple Pie Company, a very DIY-style operation run by Miami gal, Alex Van Clief. There was beautiful pop art from the likes of Helena Garcia (who showed up at the event), Anneli Olander, and John Lytle Wilson. And there was FREE pie. And pies for sale. And cheery people eating pies. And it was delicious!

In case you missed our preview of the event in this week's Night & Day section, Purple Pie arose from Van Clief's love of baking, something she cultivated while at Syracuse studying photography. (And you should really check out her photography too; she's multi-talented, this one!) SU being in prime apple country, Van Clief quickly learned how to turn ripe fruit into tasty treats. By the time she came back to Miami, she was getting bombarded with requests for pies. After tasting her signature ones, apple and blueberry, I can totally see why.

Hit the jump for more...

Last week Victoria Fedden sent us this awesome memory of finding free food in Delaware:

"Each summer we were chicken-neckers. We stood on bridges in the dawn's mist, over nearly stagnant creeks or nearly up to our knees in eelgrass, dragging strings tied to raw chicken necks through the dark water waiting to feel the claws' pinch and the string go taut. Then we'd sweep our dip nets along the muddy bottom, tangling the blue crabs before we dropped them, shells clattering angrily, into a wooden bushel basket. The adults had to put a board over the basket because the crabs would escape and come scuttling sideways after us, furiously threatening us with their front claws, which terrified me. I was always relieved when we tossed them into the steamer because as a child it seemed to me that the crabs were hateful things when they were alive. Cooked, they were my favorite food.

They went into the speckled black and white pot like wet rocks, the color of water; grey-blue, muddy stone, and the green of marsh rushes. They came out orange-red like paprika, caked in Old Bay in an avalanche of shell and claw on top of old newspapers. Eating crabs was so messy that we only ate them outside on the picnic table over a bed of old Chronicles. We unraveled rolls of paper towels. The adults snapped open cans of beer and smashed into the crabs with wooden mallets. I learned young how to peel back the apron and scoop out the poisonous lungs which we called "devil's fingers" and since my hands were small I could easily pick out the lumps of backfin meat and the thin strips of sweet flesh hiding in the knuckles and legs. We ate with our hands, soaking the crabmeat in melted butter, licking the almost bitter spiciness from our fingers, repeating over and over how lucky we were that food this good lived practically in our backyard and that we could, for nothing but a couple hours and a few cents, dine like millionaires until autumn."

You all know the Proustian tale: French guy, now pretty old and sad, bites into butter cookie and is suddenly and viscerally transported back to a childhood room at teatime. We all have our own madeleine.

Short Order wants to hear your earliest food memory. The gnosh that woke you up to the possibilities of total gluttony, the oral sensation that made you understand there's more to life than teething biscuits.

To honor gustatory revelations past, this week Short Order initiates an irregular series where we ask South Florida foodists -- celebrity chefs, bloggers, fruit stand operators, home gardeners, compulsive eaters, and various movers and shakers on our local dining scene -- about the first bites that made them the culinary obsessives they are today.

After the jump, Miami blogger Paula Niño.