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.