Books!

This Christmas, I was lucky enough to have received a veritable shelf full of books, all about food and cooking. For these bitter cold days, nothing beats reading about food, snuggled up on the sofa. Or, should I find myself with actual energy, I may also cook some of the recipes.

Service Included: Four Star Secrets from an Eavesdropping Waiter. The first book from Phoebe Damrosch about her time as a waiter at Thomas Keller's Per Se in New York was also the first book I picked up from my presents and then couldn't put down. Like many very watchable two star movies, I gained no particular insight into life or literature, but I did enjoy the backstage peek into fine dining. With Thomas Keller, no less. Told from the point of view of an intelligent, twenty-something friend fascinated by food but unsure of her life's direction, Ms. Damrosch takes us through training, serving, and leaving, along with her romances throughout. Honestly, I could have done without the romance, finding her descriptions of and tips for diners eminently more interesting. Also, although I always suspected it, I was surprised to hear that six figure salaries were the norm for that level of servers. Her comments on the gender differences among servers were also insightful and worth the read.

Secret Ingredients: The New Yorker Book of Food and Drink. Edited by David Remnick, this collection of short pieces delivers what I've always wanted: an endless supply of New Yorker stories devoted to food. Having read Bill Buford's piece many years ago, and subsequently his amazing book, Heat, about his travels with Mario Batali and through Italy, I have been hooked on the quality of the articles in New Yorker and their ability to peel off more layers of the onion, if you'll excuse the pun, to reveal the full answers to my food questions.

Beard on Food: The Best Recipes and Kitchen Wisdom from the Dean of American Cooking. In a word, hardcore. Reflecting an intense love of food and a more traditional approach to cooking, the book features articles ranging from preparation to memories of great meals. Old school and great.

The Hooters Cookbook. Because TPB has a sense of humor, and, on a good day, so do I, I received the Hooters Cookbook. Which would theoretically allow me to enjoy the wings without the degradation. It does sort of funnily include "shortcut" tips which include going to Hooters and picking up the wings, but hey, it is a restaurant. And I did laugh out loud when reading Amazon.com's product description, "The Hooters Cookbook salutes the 'Man Food' and carefree lifestyle that makes Hooters restaurants a worldwide destination." I mean, "Man Food"? really? Hilarious.

The Sneaky Chef: Simple Strategies for Hiding Healthy Foods in Kids Favorite Meals. Although I have no children, TPB and I share a penchant for kid-friendly foods like pizza, hamburgers, fries, and other such super-healthy options. Here is the solution, finally: sneak in healthy foods, but have them taste unhealthy. You might think it's for kids, but face facts: it would work for you, too.

The New Intercourses: An Aphrodisiac Cookbook. If you're a foodie, I'm going to guess that you also enjoy the social aspects of sharing a meal: the revelations that cooking brings, the act of selection, the carefulness of preparation, the sacrifice of time, and the sharing of something visceral. You may have also seen Like Water for Chocolate, the ultimate movie about how food affects love and mood. So follows Intercourses, which offers recipes ranging from oysters to pumpkin and ginger soup, grouped by aphrodisiac ingredient. The recipes are also interspersed with stories of love and food, certainly two of my favorite things.

My thanks to the gift-givers.

Holiday Party Hors D'Oeuvres

If you or anyone you know is vaguely affiliated with the corporate world, odds are good that you will find yourself at a holiday party this month. And, if you're like me, you'll find yourself eating appetizers to compensate for your spending your dinner hour at said party. Odds are also good that you're not paying for these tasty-but-small treats. So let's all take a moment to be grateful for the free food and, if you're lucky, the open bar. Now that we've taken that moment, let's dissect, shall we?

Classic Standards.

Miniature hot dogs, a.k.a. Pigs in a Blanket. These usually butlered hors oeuvres have become so beloved, I've found them served everywhere from the Union League to the American Legion. Or at least places like those places. The cliche is truth however; these morsels deliver the right mix of pastry dough and comfort food, without sabotaging your teeth or shirt.

Other pastry items include mini-quiches and spanokopita, the latter of which I place in the "items to avoid" section. Absent the propensity of spinach to get stuck in your teeth, however, I'm generally a fan of pastry-wrapped items because, let's face it, anything wrapped in buttery dough is generally good. And, even better, you can easily tell when it's not; the dough appears too brown or dried out.

Shrimp Cocktail. Another offering that's reliably good and again, you can tell when it's not.

New Favorites.

Lamb Chops served by the chop. Although I made the mistake of topping with mint jelly on one round (jelly which shortly ended up on the floor), the idea of eating something by the chop was smart and different, and aided by the medium rare tender meat that allowed for biting off reasonable size pieces.

Boneless Short Ribs. Delicious small bites of pork make for a wonderful appetizer substitute for a meal.

Smoked salmon open sandwich bites. Delicate layers of salmon, butter and whole grain bread topped with capers make for the perfect bite.

Caviar bar. Although this still remains a myth for me, my friends tell me it's an amazing offering. Try to get invited to the right wedding for this one.

Comme ci, comma ça.

Crabcakes. In tiny form, many mistakes can be forgiven with this appetizer. As long as the crab flavor comes through somewhere in this popped bite, all is well. Being from Maryland, however, my expectations for crabcakes outside of Maryland remain low.

Carved Beef. Often less than tender, and therefore mostly inedible unless you have the right fork and knife, carved beef can be more trouble than it's worth. If done right, and with enough tables to sit, the beef can be wonderful however. Proceed with caution.

Items to Avoid.

Bruschetta. This garlic (always a no-no at a corporate party) and tomato mixes atop toasted bread spell trouble. The second I bite into one, the remainder of the topping usually falls off the bread and onto the place it can do the most damage -- usually a white shirt.

The cheese and cracker plate. Simply because there are usually more interesting offerings than these snacks, unless of course you know your cheeses well enough to identify them and recognize when the extraordinary is being served. I don't, sadly.

Skewered chicken with peanut sauce. Usually very hard to eat, especially if you add the peanut sauce (which in my mind, makes the chicken and is usually necessary for the chicken to taste good). Again, the propensity for this going badly for you is high. Avoid.

Best of luck.

Alma de Cuba

Oh, Alma. You've been such a standby for me. With your soothing candles and white sofas, black and white projected photographs, you meet my Friday happy hour needs. Which are, to be clear, a place that you can hear and participate in conversation, lean forward or back against something comfortable, order delicious food -- or not -- with no pressure. And a place that offers a pleasing array of cocktails, naturally.

I went with a friend who names Alma as her favorite restaurant. Her rules for going are clear: go anytime of night, but sit in the bar area, toward the back, exclusively. Which rules out the main dining area. And perhaps she's right, for the people watching alone. On this visit, we were instructed on the system: red candles signal that the table/area is available for patrons who are not eating dinner; white candles signal tables in which the patrons must eat dinner. Since we were in the bar area, these two types of tables are close together and, let's face it, who really inherently knows what each color candle means. As a result, many a hostess had to correct an errant diner. Probably not the smoothest system. But now you know.

In any case, I enjoy the "suave" mojito, which, I am assured, is the sweeter version of the mojito. Caipirinhas are featured prominently as well. However, as wordly as I enjoy pretending to be, I am unable to pronounce this drink's name and therefore sometimes avoid ordering it. The times I've mustered up the courage, I've been suitably impressed, but the suave mojito usually quenches my thirst here. Alma offers a "caipiroska" as well, which is a caipirinha with vodka. Alma keeps the drink menu relatively short and sweet, offering a good but small variety of signature drinks.

Which sets the stage for the next best thing there: the tiny rolls. Clearly coated with crack, I mean, a blend of spices, they melt in your mouth with the perfect density of molten dough combined with a sturdier texture. The oil and herb dipping sauce, with its tangy sweetness, compliments the spice. They may even contain carbohydrates, I'm not quite as certain after my mojito.

The menu changes at least seasonally. The current menu appears to be almost entirely brand new, except for certain favorites like ceviche. I recommend the ceviche sampler on spectacle alone, grandly served in a large bowl with lots of ice. I had the hamachi tonight, but I found the overpowering red pepper flakes to be too spicy for the fish, or at least for me. I ordered the beef tenderloin as an entree, topped with a creamy lump crabmeat sauce and accompanied by asparagus and a horseradish chimi churra. The wonderfully prepared meat went well with the delicately spiced crab meat sauce. The crab meat, sadly like many restaurants, did not taste fresh, but was still very good. Not a fan of horseradish, I had it on the side and found it nevertheless to be mild but spiced well. I resisted getting my usual side dish of fried plantains, which never fail to please.

Like many Stephen Starr restaurants, Alma is as much about mood, spectacle, and hipness as food. I am not, however, complaining.

Alma de Cuba is located at 1623 Walnut Street, Philadelphia, (215) 988-1799.

Oceanaire

Oceanaire is one of the newest upscale chains to come to Philadelphia, occupying a beautiful building at 7th and Walnut, adjacent to Washington Square. The interior oozes luxury. Modeled after an upscale ocean liner, giant sailfish swim against a two story champagne-colored wall, which all somehow fits within the understated art deco decor. It all comes at a high price, also in keeping with the theme, apparently.

Which is not to say it wasn't a great time. In fact, it was the spa-equivalent of a meal, in some ways. Our very pleasing server explained the menu and specials in a way that made me ponder storytelling tradition, from his referencing the show "The Deadliest Catch" in describing the Dutch Harbor crab special (a mere $168 for half) to his personable "Oh honey" when TPB asked how the escargot was.

As it turns out, the escargot was not so good, sadly drowned in a watery butter herb mix topped with a puffed pastry that was entirely unnecessary. But the misses ended there. The hits: oyster shooters, prepared with Belvedere vodka, with hints of garlic and tangy vinegar that rendered the "shot" from the shell nearly divine; lobster, which even at four pounds, retained a perfect sweetness made all the better by butter kept warm by miniature candles supporting the small cups. A split filet was nice accompaniment to the lobster and done perfectly.

Slightly caving to carbs, TPB and I nevertheless ordered the creme brulee, on the excellent advice from our server that all desserts were big enough for two. Kudos also to the wine list, which offered a good selection. My highest praise, however, goes to the amuse bouche that we were served upon seating, a broiled cod with a tangy tomato sauce served on a small corn chip. It served its purpose by leaving me wanting more and distinguished Oceanaire by doing what it does best: offering a little slice of decadence.

The Oceanaire Seafood Room is located at 700 Walnut Street, Philadelphia, PA, (215) 625-8862.

Smith & Wollensky

Remember how I've temporarily sworn off carbohydrates? Lest you think this has hampered my ability to eat out, think again. That's half the charm of the diet. The all-meat, all-the-time diet, really the brainchild of TPB this fall, led us to Smith & Wollensky.

Located in the posh Rittenhouse Hotel, this particular branch of the New York-based steakhouse offers spectacular views. Speaking of which, thanks to TPB's charming forethought, we were seated overlooking Rittenhouse Square. This time of year, the square is lit up with a multitude of white ball-shaped lights. Debate whether the multi-color variety are better all you want, having the lights there is purely magical. The view also allowed us to ogle the fancy cars, undoubtedly belonging to the many celebrities who choose to stay at the Rittenhouse when in Philadelphia.

Also magical is the service offered at a high-end steakhouse, which Smith & Wollensky executed well. Our bottled water was wheeled to us on a cart with lemon and lime, causing TPB to quip that this was done so the water wouldn't get tired out with the journey to our table. This younger server must have overheard our comments regarding the low-carb diet because our main waiter made reference to it and helpfully steered us away from certain items, suggesting others. After we remarked that the menus were extraordinarily heavy (framed and backed in hardwood), our waiter affably remarked that it makes the place seem more manly.

And it did. Even my caprese salad was served with a steak knife, which was appropriate to tackle the napoleon style of the dish, which I enjoyed. TPB's crabmeat cocktail was chunk full of the good stuff. I chose a dry aged sirloin for my entree, after the explanation that all of the meats except the filet were dry aged on site. Sadly, the crust on the steak was seared a bit too much, rendering it chewy, even though the interior was done to a perfect medium rare. Perhaps this added to the "manliness" quotient required to cut through the steak. Thankfully, however, all steaks are served with Bearnaise and Hollandaises sauces on the side, which renders any dish delicious, really. And, for the record, Bearnaise is better than Hollandaise on steaks. TPB's filet, prepared Oscar style, with crabmeat, Bearnaise, and asparagus, was perfect. As was the accompaniment of our Oberon Cabernet, which our waiter suggested among the cabernets offered. The creamed spinach bore no comparison to the congealed dish of the same name served at so many other restaurants; instead, this was more souffle, with a whipped airy texture that still allowed the spinach flavor to come through.

Although non-judgmentally offered the dessert menu by our seasoned waiter, we managed to decline. Overall, Smith & Wollensky offered a nice balance between a testosterone-laden steakhouse and a romantic setting overlooking Rittenhouse Square. In some ways, the best of many worlds.

Smith & Wollensky is located at 210 W. Rittenhouse Square, Philadelphia, PA, (215) 545-1700.

Let them eat steak

With the advent of very cold weather comes my need to hibernate. And eat a lot. Thanksgiving usually signals my taste buds to re-orient to rich starches, from mashed potatoes to pie. In an effort to pick my decadent meals wisely, I've gone back to my favorite diet: low carb. The only diet allowing unlimited portions. Sure, if you cheat, you've then eaten the type of meal typically reserved for midwestern farmers, whose manual labor allows them to burn off about 3000 calories per day, but if you don't cheat, the results can be good.

Which brings me to steak. Whole Foods and DiBruno's offer excellent cuts of my favorite, New York strip. Whole Foods offers "dry aged," which I actually find has a better flavor. While you're at DiBruno's (or your favorite upscale grocery store), don't forget to pick up soppressata and fresh mozzarella -- after all, you're on a diet, you shouldn't feel deprived. In any case, if you're not up to cooking or eating a three inch thick steak, any other New York strip will do; just watch that you pick one without a line of cartilage running through the middle. I am not a huge fan of Omaha Steaks, whose taste and size pales in comparison to Whole Foods, for roughly the same price.

I'd like to think I've perfected the preparation: sauteed. Melt a healthy slice of of butter (carb free! eat all you want!) in a standard frying pan (non-stick for easy clean-up, regular if you're going to do something fancy with the browned bits) and wait for it to bubble a bit. You should be on medium high heat. Add the steak. If more patient than I am, you should hear the crackling of meat when it hits the pan, a signal that the butter was sufficiently hot. If not, it's still okay. Partially cover for three to four minutes. I usually leave the lid "ajar" by about a centimeter so the meat doesn't steam, but you may not even need the lid if your steak is relatively thin. Turn the steak over and partially cover for three to four minutes more. Again, if patience is your virtue, after you remove the steak from the pan, let it sit 1-2 minutes to finish up. This gets you to medium rare, the temperature at which, if you bought an expensive steak, you should be eating it.

Then top. You can be really lazy and enjoy the saffron or garlic herb butter sold by Whole Foods. Melted on top of the steak, it's hard to match. Or get crazy and prepare a quick sauce of diced, sauteed shallots and reduced red wine in the same pan. If you're feeling decadent, sprinkle some Roquefort over the top. Dieting never tasted so good.

Pod

It's all about the bling. Much like the other Stephen Starr restaurants, Pod creates a concept and delivers a theme. A theme that weds my love of Disneyworld with my love of feeling hip. Resembling the inside of a spaceship, Pod offers many interest decorational quirks. The "pods," for example, large round booths (all done, like the rest of the restaurant and its seating, in white sculpted plastic) can be set to different colors of light by the diners. Not surprising from the design firm that brought you Nobu and the W Hotel in New York.

Just as I settled in and was deciding whether the plastic dining chairs were, in fact, comfortable (I'm going with "yes"), Mark Wahlberg walks in. Marky Mark. With an entourage (pardon the pun) of behind-the-camera-looking folks. I know this not because I watched him walk in, but because rather suddenly, TPB lit up, smiling widely but conservatively, and giving a warm nod to people passing directly behind me. Soon after TPB whispered Wahlberg's name to me, followed by a reverent rejoinder, I'm not kidding. So began the refrain of stealing glances, commenting on his real-life versus screen appearance, and speculating on his guests.

Which is all just accoutrement to the scene that is Pod. Wahlberg fit in, as did cocktails named after the colors of the rainbow ("Blue," "Orange," etc.), and Tron, which was playing on a loop on the televisions behind us.

Could I describe the food? Sure, but I'm telling you, it's only part of the ensemble cast at work here. The miso soup was among the best I've had, thanks to generous portioning of tofu and fresh green onion. The dumplings were steamed with a tangy dipping sauce inside of them, a magical and satisfying trick. The "tuna three way" special, which featured tuna tartare, spicy tuna with mango roll, and a spicy tuna taco with large pieces of sashimi in a puffed noodle shell, succeeded for both the mouth and the eye. The bulk of our meal was sushi a la carte, including yellow tail and rainbow roll, among other selections. The sushi doesn't rival the freshness of Sagami or even Genji, but it was still very good.

With my second drink, a sake mojito that I highly recommend, I settled into my star-gazing and hipster posturing. Definitely a good time.

Pod is located at 3636 Sansom Street, http://www.podrestaurant.com/.

Matyson

Opened for nearly four years, Matyson has held its own on Philadelphia’s BYO scene for two main reasons -- its interesting take on seasonal preparations and, perhaps more importantly, its charm. And so far, the sale of the restaurant by Matt and Sonjia Spector (the combination of names that supplied the restaurant’s name) hasn’t hindered its personality.

After dutifully calling when it was clear traffic would prevent our timely arrival, I gave up on subsequent calls advising of our progressive tardiness. When we walked through the door, and offered our excuse, the host chidingly accepted it and seated us, with a comedic aplomb that struck the perfect note of appropriately grudging accommodation. Charming.

As for the take on seasonal preparations, the pan seared Hudson Valley foie gras garnished with pumpkin and pumpkin seed emulsion appetizer offered superb ingredients perfect for the pre-thanksgiving season. The sweetness, stopping short of cloying, was the right counterbalance to the savory succulence of the foie gras. Having recently been served “foie gras” out of can that bordered on tasting like nothing at all, I realized my gratitude for this preparation. The seared tuna, served with broccoli rabe and anchovy almond sauce, was done to perfection. The tuna floated atop the sauce and although I couldn’t pick apart the elements, the synthesis of the saltiness of anchovy and the smooth savory almond worked well together.

Did I mention our waitress? She was someone I would want to befriend, although she rather professionally withheld true personality details, trust me, I could tell she was a good person. Really.

The grilled pork chop, served with herb spaetzle, caramelized apples, bacon and cider demi glaze, offered a strong smoky flavor cooked to a perfect tenderness, a tough order for a three inch chop. The smoky flavor threatened overpower, but was offset with the sweet apples and glaze. TPB ordered the steak frittes, a grilled new york strip , wilted greens and parmesean truffle fries. The steak was a generous cut, with an excellent flavor. Matyson avoided the common mistake a dressing a good cut of meat in a “sauce,” and instead wisely opted to let the flavor of the meat stand on its own. The truffle fries had the most pronounced taste I’ve experienced in a dish claiming to be flavored with truffle. Paired with a sprinkling of good parmesean cheese, the fries invited much more than the “do you want a taste” first helping I got.

Having ogled them being passed by in the small space, desserts were high on our list of things to try. Disappointingly, however, the chocolate hazelnut truffle tart, served with brown sugar ice cream and caramelized bananas, fell short of the promise of its description. Its most major flaw was the overpowering chocolate density of the tart, which was a bit bitter and quite thick. The small scoop of ice cream and bananas did little to balance the bitter taste. I should add that I like dark chocolate, and more complex chocolate flavors, but this particular combination didn’t work. Nor did the brown sugar ice cream stand on its own; the brown sugar flavor simply was not articulated enough to detect. The caramelized bananas were a bit over-torched, leaving it hard (literally) to combine the banana with the rest of the dish. TPB’s coconut cream pie with chocolate ganache and macademia crust fared far better in terms of subtlety of flavor and good combination.

Upon retrieving my checked coat, our host assisted me with my coat. After several glasses of wine, I commented on his kindness, to which he dryly responded, yes, it’s quite classy. Prompting giggles on my part, to which he rejoined, “classy with a K.” I left laughing, happy and full.

Matyson is located on 37 S. 19th Street, Philadelphia, PA 19103, (215) 564-2925. Although BYO, it does accept credit cards.

Update: Maggiano's

Two words: canned spinach.

Two caveats: This was a different Maggiano's location than I had previously reviewed; it is in King of Prussia. Second, this location has the distinct convenience of being adjacent to the movie theaters. Which is a nice perk.

Cuba Libre

The scene: Old Havana. Cobblestone streets, music floating from restaurants and clubs. Scantily clad women, overdressed men, traveling in crowds. Where can you find such merry-making? Atlantic City. The Tropicana Casino and Resort, to be exact.

To be clear, I'm a fan of Disneyworld. I'm a fan of the created environment, kept perfect in its image and wanting only to entertain. It works for me. And so Cuba Libre, located in the Tropicana's "Quarter," and made to simulate Old Havana, worked for me.

Cuba Libre started as a restaurant in Philadelphia in 2000, offering mostly just that image -- a great party atmosphere in its recreation of a faux cuban courtyard, complete with interior balcony. Which is how I viewed it for many years, a fun party place, until I heard that Guillermo Pernot, formerly of now-closed but once excellent !Pasion! had taken over. Closer research for this post revealed Pernot is actually the "concept chef," for both the Philadelphia and Atlantic City restaurants, a gig I wouldn't mind accepting one day.

In any case, entering the Atlantic City Cuba Libre and being seated was pretty pleasing. Bustling with casino partygoers and loud - live - music, we were led to a candle-lit table near the bar. Our waiter could not have been nicer, striking the perfect note of friendly and attentive.

I should mention what we first ordered first -- drinks. I credit Cuba Libre for helping bring the mojito craze to Philadelphia. Craze might be the operative word here; the mojito menu has grown exponentially in size since I last perused it. From pomegranate to mango, you name the mojito, you can order it. Even better, after I explained that I prefer my mojitos on the sweeter side, the waiter kindly explained that he could add extra guarapa, or sugar cane juice, to my drink. Which worked! Perhaps even more delicious, however, was TPB's order of Cuba Libre's namesake, with the house specialty-made spiced rum and coke.

From there we moved on to the Fire and Ice ceviche, which we were told was one of the few menu items with some spicy heat to it. I didn't taste the heat, but the ceviche was excellent. And again, the dry ice brought more than a few appreciative stares from fellow diners, adding to the fun.

The entrees, however, were spotty. I ordered the Atun Senor Lopez (or "the tuna," as I requested of our waiter), described as seared bigeye tuna, Cuba Libre brand 5 year rum and coconut glaze, malanga puree, dried shrimp and cucumber and tomato salsa. A glossary within the menu hepfully explained that malanga is a "starchy root vegetable with a nutty, earthy flavor." I would describe it as something close to yucca, or a less flavorful potato. And I don't know about you, but "seared tuna" to me means just that - only the outside is cooked. However, this tuna is wrapped around a sugar cane and was pretty well done save for a medium rare section around the sugar cane, in the very center. All of which made the tuna a bit bland. TPB ordered the Plato Cuba Libre, which features tastings of three entrees and three sides. The marinated skirt steak, included in his plate, was worth ordering as a stand-alone. Deliciously seasoned and cooked, it was perfect. Several of his sides missed the mark and needed more flavor.

Our bread pudding dessert, "Pudin de Pan," described as warm Cuban bread pudding, mango compote, hazelnut- praline crunch and dulce de leche gelato, was more to TPB's liking than mine. Let me admit that I am not a fan of fruit mixed with dessert unless that's the point of the dessert, like apple pie. Much like fruit in ice cream, mango with bread pudding detracted from the dish, including the the hazelnut and dulce de leche gelato elements. TPB, however, believed that the mango was a definite plus. The bread pudding itself was executed well, achieving that perfect custard taste that alleviates the heaviness of the dessert.

By this time, the live music started about twenty feet away. A group of marines in full dress uniform hit the floor with their dates. The older man and much younger woman seated near us, who had sparked much speculation from TPB and I about their relationship, rose to dance as well. The illusion of what I, in my more modest travels, might picture of Havana was complete. If you can appreciate the Epcot Center version of life, or even just a fun evening with live music, stick with drinks and appetizers and enjoy.

Cuba Libre is located at The Quarter, Tropicana Casino and Resort, 2801 Pacific Avenue, Atlantic City, NJ. (609) 348-6700, http://www.cubalibrerestaurant.com/.

Ristorante Panorama

What makes Ristorante Panorama (or just "Panorama") so unforgettable are its flights of wines and reputation of having the largest selection of wines by the glass in the region. The bar offers the spectacle you would expect with this description, displaying scores of bottles in glass cabinets attached to tubes hooked to taps. Billed as "the largest wine preservation and dispensing system in the world," Il Bar allows for 120 bottles to be opened and preserved with inert nitrogen gas. Which, when contemplating where to pass a late afternoon in November, seemed like a good idea.

And so I found myself there yesterday, perusing the long wine menu. Oh yes, it's much more than a list; it's long and interesting, with groupings of wines that are both humorous and apt. Although it claims to change every week, the wear on our menus suggested otherwise. Not complaining, however, I ended up with a "Variety of Varietals" and TPB ordered the "Que Syrah, Shiraz" flight. The flights are five 1.5 oz tastes, the perfect amount all together. My varietals included a pinot noir, shiraz, cabernet, merlot, and zinfandel which were fun in and of themselves to sample against one another. I did notice our bartender pouring from some bottles that were simply uncorked, or preserved with the vacuuming system I have at home, rather than the life support system described above. I hesitate to speculate on the meaning of this, however, although both TPB and I suspected that one of our tastings was less than fresh.

Appetizers came next. First was the antipasto misto, a fairly predictable antipasto with a good variety. Prosciutto, fresh mozzarella, a sharper, hard cheese (perhaps a provolone), and a sopressata (I think) provided the backdrop for marinated red peppers, marinated artichoke, and olives. Again, the plate was fairly standard and had me longing for the variety offered at Tria, or at least the explanation of what was included. We also ordered the smoked salmon blinis, which were sadly stale. Finding ourselves still making our way through the wine, we ordered two more appetizers at the bartender's suggestion, the first a fried eggplant napoleon dish with prosciutto and fresh mozzarella swimming in a red pepper sauce. While tasty in the way that all deep fried foods can be, the prosciutto was lost in the fried batter and scant portioning. Nor did I taste the eggplant. It was, however, hearty enough to stand up to the wine.

The next appetizer was Panorama's take on caprese salad, a salad that I have ordered at every single restaurant in Italy when I was there, a salad that my father often prepared through the summer months as I was growing up, and a salad of which TPB and I bonded over our shared propensity to order. When prepared well, caprese can be heavenly in its straightforward presentation of fresh ingredients: tomato, mozzarella, basil and olive oil. Sadly, Panorama did not rise to the occasion. First, Panorama chose to add what I always find distracting: pesto. Often overpowering, this pesto was actually so mild as to be rendered moot by its addition. Two slices of somewhat dry and flavorless prosciutto likewise contributed little. The mozzarella portioning was small and the tomatoes were a bit overripe. I know, I know, this isn't the season for caprese and I should have known better, but I just couldn't resist it.

The bartender dissuaded us from ordering the scallop appetizer, as he strongly believed that the scallops would be overpowered by the red wine. As true as it might be, I'm also of the mindset that in the right mood, food and wine pairings can be mixed at will. We instead ordered the scallops to take home only to find -- at home -- that the dish featured two fairly small scallops. Two. Perhaps the true reason for his dissuading us. What redeemed the appetizer, however, was the celery root puree, which surpassed any mashed potato dish, for its savory notes of balsamic vinegar and salty creaminess.

We likewise took our entrees home to eat, after good advice from the bartender that the freshly made pastas would not hold up to take home and that the meats were excellent. The veal chop lived up to his promise -- perfectly done, with a sauce that served only to accentuate the meat. I ordered the Pollo Farcito con Prosciutto e Mozzarella, or, chicken with prosciutto and mozzarella, which was rolled up, slightly breaded, and baked. Certainly delicious, although I think it would have benefited from more of a sauce.

With inundation of tapas, and the recent awakening of chefs to pairing foods with wine, however, Panorama seems a bit dated. Given their selection of wines, I longed for food pairing suggestions in portions that complemented the small wine tastes. The menu also feels dated, with a small appetizer selection and uninspired choices otherwise.

Panorama's idea of wine flights remains largely unmatched in the region and because of it and the restaurant's consistently cozy-yet-elegant atmosphere, I would still recommend it.

Halloween Candy

I write with news of new candy, candy that quickly reverted me to a small child last night, delighted with my luck in finding it. Far from high cuisine, or even low cuisine, these candies nonetheless are pleasing enough to make you actually ponder the science of new candy technology. Or at least enjoy the piece while it lasts.

The first is the new Reeses Miniature cup - this time, with banana. That's right, peanut butter, banana, and chocolate, a comfort food triumvirate that consistently works. By the fourth bite, did I think, gee, this doesn't taste like real banana, but instead, the kind of banana oil/extract/dye/flavoring you find in banana jelly beans? You betcha. Did it matter? Not really.

The second was the Reeses small "crunch bar." Somehow, the chocolatey peanut flavor has been transformed into peanut-sized nuggets then dipped in chocolate. The ratio of chocolate to peanut improves from the original "cup" form, which is really too much peanut for my tastes.

The third, or third, fourth and fifth, was the new line of Snickers. One traditional, one with dark chocolate, and one with almonds instead of peanuts. Conveniently packaged in a mixed bag, furnishing that "flight of snackbar chocolate tasting" I've always wanted, I appreciate the move to dark chocolate. Snickers is, after all, the perfect mix of candy bar elements.

Not-such-a-winner: new flavors of twizzlers, which, at least in "wild berry" form, seem to have borrowed their flavoring from the cough syrup shelf. Even the "peel and eat" packaging didn't work.

Not to worry, the candy was also distributed to the precious smaller trick-or-treaters, too.

Palace of Asia

After enjoying a Sunday afternoon nap, I awoke with a renewed sense of purpose: dinner. I roused TPB and began the discussion. He kindly asked, "if you could have anything tonight, what would it be?" After the very shortest of pauses, I declared, "chicken shahi korma, onion naan and raita." After all, it was the first truly cold weekend of fall and the thought of something warming and spicy sounded appealing. He immediately suggested Palace of Asia, which then took on a magical quality, as it was both very close and seem to offer everything I wanted.

Located in Fort Washington, Palace of Asia is situated between a Subway and a Best Western, all of which seem part of the same structure, save for the Subway's actual subway cars, which are admittedly pretty cool. TPB reported that the same family owns all of it and is also related to Raj Bhakta, one time bow-tied candidate on Donald Trump's "The Apprentice" and later, a failed congressional candidate. Although I couldn't find a definitive link beyond Mr. Bhakta's being from the area, the google searches do lead to news of Raj's publicity stunt of riding an elephant on the Mexican border while being followed by a Mariachi band in order to highlight the inadequacies of the border patrol. Fascinating.

The restaurant is essentially part of the Best Western and its expanse offers what you would expect of such a place -- a large, white tiled lobby and carpeted interior that seems ready to convert to catered-banquet mode at the drop of a hat. We arrived on the later side of 8:30 and one large family remained along with a couple of other diners.

Our meal began with Aloo Tikki, breaded potato and pea patties, with Tamarind sauce. Deep fried, the flavors and spices were still very clear and on the mark. From there, our entrees included the chicken korma I'd been craving, the tandoori mixed grill, and accompaniments of garlic naan, onion kulcha, and raita.

The goods were, as they say, delivered. The korma flavors were spot on. The sauce should have been less soupy in consistency and could have benefited from more nuts, dark meat and raisins, but the spices were perfect against the basmati rice. The tandoori mixed grill, which included perfectly done morsels of lamb, was exactly what it should be -- a mix of spices that take a backseat to the precise cooking method that renders the meat the right temnperature. The onion kulcha, a bit spicy for my taste, was nonetheless good and palatable with enough cooling raita. And of course, the garlic naan was also what it should be, which predictably enough, has me still tasting garlic. Which isn't the worst thing.

As we left, we passed restaurant reviews dating back to the early 90's. A quick search on google revealed that the restaurant has changed hands over the years, with the quality varying. As those reviews echo, the prices were high for this level of the cuisine. But the spices were on the mark; I enjoyed it and would likely go back.

Palace of Asia is located on 285 Commerce Drive, Ft. Washington, Pa. 215-646-2133

Pumpkin Soup Update

Perhaps the key to a good dinner party is going with the flow. It's a practice that I've heard about, but never quite got the hang of. However, equipped with a burnt arm, an ambitious menu, and one ever-positive helper in the form of my cousin, I'd like to think I did just that. Guests arrived while my cousin and I were still cooking (as it turns out, a recipe that will produce 50+ blinis cooked in batches of 8 max takes a long, long time), but I think it was okay. You can't really wrap a slice of filet around a lump of crabmeat, but it didn't stop me. The hollandaise sauce approached solid form as it waited to be dolloped, but I plowed ahead. About an hour after the party was scheduled to start, I took off my apron and sat down.

And the soup? I warmed it up but it took a sideline to the hors d'oeuvres. In fact, a few people were too full to eat it. But it was good.

My lessons learned: 1) creme fraiche is better spread thin on bread than something savory like a sweet potato pancake; 2) everything you have planned to make will take double the time you allotted for it; 3) next time, explore the "chafing dish" option; 4) have a bar at the ready with an ice bucket for guests to help themselves; 5) give serious consideration to the concept of catering; and last but perhaps more important, 6) remain grateful for your friends.

All in all, a great evening.

Pumpkin Soup Meltdown

Never bite off more than you can chew. All of us have recurring lessons that we never quite learn or process and this particular cliche is my cross to bear in the kitchen. The lesson was brought home last night in my four hour foray into pumpkin soup.

Harvest Pumpkin Soup, to be exact, a recent Martha Stewart recipe. My approach to cooking is often to research recipes (preferably on epicurious.com or any site with reader feedback), and then modify them with anything I think might improve the dish. With guests coming on Friday night (and my working during the day), I needed something to make in advance. And I trust Martha's judgment, which often errs on the side of adding butter. This approach really works, by the way.

My menu includes the pumpkin soup, surf and turf appetizers consisting of steak, crabmeat and hollandaise (with a shout-out to Top Chef for the inspiration), sweet potato pancakes with creme fraiche and caviar, and good bread and herbed butter for the soup. My Chiles Rellenos friend is bringing dessert. Pumpkin cocktails, spiced sweet potato chips and dip and caramel popcorn complete the meal. Thanks go out to Whole Foods for carrying sugar pumpkins, the state store for miraculously carrying pumpkin liqueur, Caviar Assouline for not just caviar but also creme fraiche, and DiBruno's for their recently expanded meat and seafood selections. I've managed to collect decorations, carve a pumpkin and purchase an extra chair.

So back to t-minus two days until I will have officially bitten off more than I can chew. I made the classic mistake of not reading the recipe before beginning to cook. Which means, as you would predict, it was quite possibly the hardest recipe short of making bread. Martha asked me - yes, I began to take it personally - to make pumpkin broth first, which then is added to a more typical soup puree base. Of course, the recipe read something like this: 1. remove the seeds and stringy fibers from two sugar pumpkins. (done! threw those right in the trash!) 2. bake the pumpkins for 50 minutes. (they're in there! baking away!) 3. take the reserved seeds and fibers and begin the broth. (huh? really? the ones in the trash?)

After carving up additional pumpkins for the sole purpose of obtaining said seeds and fibers, and after chopping and cooking the numerous turnips, potatoes, and parsnips, I then was instructed to blend the mixture in the batches. A couple of blends went well and then things got ugly. The soup was probably a little too hot and I was a little too tired, but the lid popped off and pumpkin soup dribbled forth. Which would have been a good wake-up call, if I choose to heed that warning. I didn't. I only became less patient. The next batch I chose to blend more without any wait. Resulting in a pumpkin soup explosion. Over me. Over the kitchen. Over the cats. Later, as I discovered, over the ceiling, if that's even possible.

Prompting the meltdown. The Patient Boyfriend ("T.P.B.") fetched ice. I announced, "that's it! I'm not making dinner! I'm not finishing the soup! I'm done!" There may have been tears. T.P.B. tasted the soup and thought it was good. I modestly protested and was not so modestly pleased. Over the next two hours, I managed to clean the explosion, apply lidocaine and aloe to my arms, make dinner, eat ice cream and watch a scary movie.

And the dinner's back on. Wish me luck.

Reliable Restaurant Recommendation (RRR): Tequila's

Los Catrines Tequila's longevity alone has made it an important fixture on the Philadelphia restaurant scene. It offers several features that others don't, including: 1) large amounts of seating; 2) great atmosphere, thanks in large part to the authentic Mexican murals, good lighting, and good noise control; 3) reliable menu, including crave-worthy margaritas and nachos; and 4) excellent staff.

I remember it when it was "across the street," which, in actuality, was on the next block up. A tiny first floor operation with a strange and equally cramped loft space, the wait for tables was always long. But I had a friend who would crave the Chiles Rellenos and I, a sucker for the nachos and margaritas, would dutifully wait with her. It was invariably worth it. If not for the food, for the menu descriptions alone. For example, the entry for the Sopes del Rancho reads, "During the Mexican Revolution, women were a vital factor in the survival of the campesino. Through battlefields and wide-open country, they set up makeshift kitchens. These courageous ladies provided a basic nutritional element. Hand made corn masa rounded into flat shallow cups and filled with refried beans, chorizo, ground meat or chicken topped with tomato, lettuce, fresh cream and grated cheese." Lured in by the prospect of reliving that moment, that feeling, I could never help but feel a little transported when I ate there.

If anything, the new space increases the feeling of other-worldliness. Occupying the former Magnolia Cafe with its big windows and cavernous space, Tequila's can offer its patrons more tables with a little less of a wait than its former location. Tequila's made the space its own with artwork and decorations that never overpower, only add to the dining experience.

David Suro, ever present at both locations, greets his customers with a knowing, welcoming smile. Devoid of pretension, he conveys a sense of genuine enjoyment, both of what he's doing and others' appreciation. Most staff have also been there for some time. The experience is revealed in the way margaritas are delivered to your table -- with one balanced on a server's head and the other balanced on the server's fingertips. Simultaneously provoking child-like awe and subdued respect, the spectacle is worth the margarita.

Speaking of which, Suro's new foray into tequila has brought the restaurant his own brand - Siembra Azul, which, in my limited tequila palate, works quite well in a margarita. The extensive tequila list is unparalled for the more experienced drinker, although the staff is always happy to supply recommendations. The bar is wonderful as well, with comfortable seating and the right mix of television and people watching.

It's no mistake that my focus is on the service, atmosphere, and reliability -- Tequila's strong suits. The menu, while offering some reliably good choices, has occasional pitfalls and items that I wished were altered in some small ways. The guacamole, for example, at last bite was overly seasoned and a bit watered down; I was more aware of the acid than the chunks of avocado. Many of the meat dishes offer thin cuts of meat awash in sauce, which is often admittedly good, but leave me wanting more. For dessert, the Crepas (crepes with caramel and ice cream) deliver the right taste, but soon turn into an unmanageable soup. On the other hand, another friend urged me to try the Queso Fundido, which I found to be an excellent alternative comfort food, wedged into a tortilla. My personal standby is the Carne Aguacate because of the avocado cilantro sauce, a mild but flavorful sauce that enhances the meat. The ceviche is also quite good, lacking the flash of trendier restaurants, but still deftly handling a more straight-forward preparation.

Because they are so amazing and often overlooked, the murals deserve a quick word -- they were created by Clemente Orozco Farias, grandson of Jose Guadalupe Posada, a Mexican mural artist whose traditions and teachings heavily influenced the work of Diego Rivera and Jose Clemente Orozco, the leaders of the Mexican Mural Renaissance. The lobby features large skeletal figures, Catrines, which Farias modeled after his grandfather's works. Tequila's website explains that "'Catrin' Is A Mexican Term To Mock Pretentious Elegance." It goes on to describes the murals with same florid, passionate tone that it describes its food, "Posada's Catrines symbolize a rebellion against the evil dictatorship embodied in the elegant, pretentious, and arrogant characters devoid of souls." Sign me up.

Part spectacle, part gallery, part family, Tequila's delivers a reliably good time.

Tequila's is located at 1602 Locust Street.

Maggiano's, Chain Restaurants, and Blogging

I have certainly thought about being a great food writer. In these dreams, I would endlessly opine about the latest high-end restaurant to open. Being able to recognize every spice in every mouthful and determine its appropriateness in the dish, I would be ruthless but fair in my evaluations. I'd know how every vegetable should be chopped and how the chef varied from classical cookery to achieve a particular effect. My days would be spent writing about my experiences. For variety, I'd research how feasible the slow food movement really is and whether the farm bill really expands the nutritional gap between the rich and the poor.

Back in reality, however, I have a full-time job that occupies much of my energy and has nothing to do with food. Unless you count memorizing the Marathon Grill menu, which every Philadelphia lawyer has down cold. I like to cook, but mostly elaborate things and as a result, I don't cook that often. I like to eat out, but lately, it's been more about comfortable restaurants -- predictable, fulfilling, and offering lots of booths.

Which brings me to my topic: chain restaurants. When I looked back on what the first restaurant I wanted to review was, I thought of the last place I ate out. On purpose, not as an afterthought, quickly after work (although quick props to the reliable Square on Square and the awesome Tequila's). And that place was Maggiano's.

And it was good. Maybe even great. From the uber-professional host to the chatty but nice waitress, I really enjoyed it. We were seated in a great booth by the window, and the wine list featured one of my favorite cabernets by Sterling. I giddily ordered "zucchini fritti" and their shrimp appetizer special that night, which featured jumbo shrimp not just deep fried, but deep fried with asiago. That's right, breading and cheese. Yet with dipping sauces that ended in the word "aoli," I didn't feel like I was contributing to the downfall of the American palate. The "fritti" preparation lent itself to its subject in the precise way one wants from fried food -- it made it better, more reliable, more comforting.

Then my entree arrived -- strip steak "al forno," which apparently means baked. It apparently also means a thick, but not tough, outer layer, and a perfectly grilled center. It was perfect. I mean, it was better than non-chain restaurants. That's how tasty it was.

All of this good cheer led to ordering dessert, although we were sober enough to agree to split it. It was tartufo and it was great. It involved bits of chocolate and cherry frozen into vanilla ice cream and covered again with a chocolate shell. I have never been trained in the art of desserts, nor anything culinary actually, but the mix of chocolate, cherry and ice cream was somehow perfect.

The valet was even wearing a branded shirt, which was oddly comforting. Heck, the bar even looked good. I'd go back. Which perhaps summarizes the explanation of the popularity of the successful chain restaurant: its predictability. And its booths. I'm a sucker for a good booth.