Silo: Nashville, Tennessee

Floor-to-ceiling red cedar walls sound like something you would find at a mountain retreat, not in the heart of the Germantown neighborhood of Nashville.  Yet at the new restaurant Silo, the wood is as modern as it is cozy.  The details are simple, southern and comfortable with a hint of a zen air.  It comes as no surprise that this beautifully designed eatery, where every last detail, from the pottery inspired modern dishware, to the bullet hole ridden lighting fixtures, is the brainchild of Paul Cercone, a trained artist, and Chef Clay Greenberg, former executive chef of Virago, a high-end sushi restaurant in Nashville.  The tables were crafted by a local Amish woodworker.  The bar is made of reclaimed barn wood and those beautiful, funky lights, actually provide a warm wash of light at each table, perfect for reading the menu, but yet the lighting seems low and romantic when you gaze around the restaurant.


While the ambiance certainly set a welcoming tone, it was the menu of classic southern comfort food, with a creative twist that made us excited.  We started with the deviled eggs 3 ways, a simple yet refined version of grandma's, feeling elegant, served on a stark white plate.  The whipped yolks were creamy, with a hint of mustard.   Each egg was topped with a different treat.  The first was embellished with crispy and salty fried chicken skin, the best part of the bird.  The second was garnished with a small thick-cut bite of bacon, and the third was topped with a pickled cherry tomato and a jalapeno.  Somehow we managed to split each one, thankfully, as I would have fought Mark for the chicken skin.

Next arrived the charcuterie plate.  The pork belly rillettes, topped with a caramelized onion jelly, was salty and spreadable with just enough texture and tasting deliciously of pig.  Fried delicately in a cornmeal crust, the trotters were mild and tender. I promise you, feet have never tasted so good.  Silky, buttery and sweet, the chicken liver mousse was outlandishly perfect, smeared on toasted bread.  If I lived closer, I would order this by the pint and spread it on everything.   The crisp pickled green beans and baby tomatoes were tangy, cutting the richness of the force meat.

I could easily have left happy after those two starters, but our main dishes arrived with equal splendor.  The chicken confit was bursting with deep flavor. The meat was tender, the skin salty and crunchy, clearly not the boring, safe chicken dish on the menu, but instead it was something akin to chicken nirvana.  Add to that, chewy black pepper dumplins and a sweet onion and butternut puree, and you have the most upscale, home-cooked meal I have ever experienced. 

The pork belly was generous in size and delivered a satiating pork experience. The top was crispy, and the interior, when shredded into the country ham and pea broth, was the epitome of comfort food.  Still a little al dente, the field peas added a light, fresh note to the dish.

There are things I miss about New England: family, friends, steamer clams, and our cheese "girl" Maggie.  Many Saturdays in Dover, New Hampshire, we would pop in, and ask her to surprise us with three unusual cheeses.  I learned that there is no cheese too stinky or drippy for me.  In fact my favorite was the one served with a spoon, preferably outside, due to the smell.  Mark leaned towards the hard aged variety. Therefore, when shown the dessert menu, while the red wine chocolate cake sounded wonderful, the local cheese plate, won our hearts. The Ellington goat was light with a hint of tang, the Sweetgrass was soft and bloomy and the Coppinger from Sequatchie Cove Farm had a nice hard, nutty aged texture.  All were enhanced by the sweet fruity flavor of a dollop of peach preserves.  While I still say "pee-can" like a yankee, and hoard bags of the nuts because they were expensive back in New England, I am beginning to loosen up and enjoy this local treat with more abandon.  After my trip to Silo, I am convinced that these roasted gems, tossed in sweet sorghum syrup, and served alongside native cheeses, need to be shipped back up to Maggie.

As I write this, I am craving a return to Silo. I am out-of-my-mind, dying to try the hot chicken.  I didn't want to leave.  I could talk to Paul, the owner, all night about his art school in Boston or his experiences hiking in the German Alps and our shared love of hiking the New Hampshire White Mountains, or even the Montessori school philosophy.  Silo is warm, yet not fussy.  It is upscale, yet not stuffy.  It defies cliches and after only twelve days open, I would have sworn they had been in the neighborhood for years.  I know nothing of opening restaurants, but I do know that Silo brings southern comfort food to sublime heights at a refreshingly affordable price. 

Holland House Bar & Refuge: Nashville, TN

Holland House Bar & Refuge

Ward 8

As we walked up the flower lined steps to the Holland House Bar and Refuge, in the east Nashville neighborhood, I could see Jeremiah, the bartender, waving and smiling from inside the big front windows.  This normally would make me happy, to feel welcomed and known, but on this day it was particularly warming because we had patronized the rustically elegant neighborhood joint only once before, on the previous night.  From the moment we entered the HHB&R, I felt a sense of comfort; a square bar sits center stage in the restaurant under soaring, exposed wood ceilings and the soft glow of chandeliers.   The suspender clad bartenders possessed an easy going air, serving up intricate craft cocktails to a full bar, yet not rushing or looking harried, instead taking time to converse genuinely and at length with the patrons.

Admittedly, part of our newly found nostalgia could also have been enhanced by the $5 cocktail happy hour menu.  While we are not cheap, and would happily have paid triple that for a truly wonderful libation, somehow the sense of landing a deal, heightened the experience even further.   While the full cocktail menu consisting of multiple pages of concoctions was still available, the 10 listed on the happy hour menu were plenty diverse.  On our first visit, as a whiskey loyalist, I opted for the Ward 8 -- composed of rye whiskey, lemon juice and grenadine and served up.   This drink was more tart than a Manhattan or old fashioned, yet in a very balanced, palate pleasing way. In researching the history, I lovingly found that the recipe originated in Boston, Massachusetts, just like me, and would have been served with a little paper Massachusetts flag garnish.  Instead of a flag, mine came with a sidecar.  While I am tempted to hunt down miniature Massachusetts flags, now that I am south of the Mason Dixon line, I will happily accept a diminutive carafe of the extra cocktail to top off my glass.

Pimms Cup

Mark ordered a Pimms cup, a light, refreshing summer highball, hailing from Britain.  Named for the gin based citrus and herbal liqueur, Pimms no. 1 cup, the cocktail also includes lemon juice and in this case cucumber soda.  Fittingly garnished with a cucumber, this is by far the best version we have every tried.  A bowlful of truffled popcorn was the perfect accompaniment, as we relaxed and peppered Jeremiah and the other guests with questions about great local eateries.

Clearly when deciding our cocktail destination the following night, it was no surprise that we were drawn back into the HHB&R fold.  After catching-up on the day’s events with our new found friend, Jeremiah, he whipped us up an Americano and a Chelsea Sidecar.  He sold the Americano perfectly, when he described it as the ideal way to slide into your night.  Not a drink for those with something to prove, he extolled, as it is void of a base liquor and instead made up of Campari, which is a fruity herbal aperitif, as well as noilly prat, a sweet vermouth, and lastly a bitter lemon phosphate soda.  Sweet and ascrebic notes blended easily and when served in a highball over ice, the red punch color made for a stunning glass.  The Chelsea Sidecar was also a fresh summer selection.  Gin was shaken with lemon juice, angostura bitters, and a lavender simple syrup, served up in a sugar rimmed glass with a sidecar.  

Pickled Produce & Chelsea Sidecar

The second night we enjoyed a little taste of their farm-to-table menu with the pickle and hummus plate.  A crunchy toasted baguette smothered with creamy, garlic hummus and topped with crunchy pickled okra, could easily top my bar snack list, and add carefully crafted, summer cocktails and you now have happy hour perfection.


While this aptly named refuge could easily be described as upscale, it is refreshlingly unpretentious.  In fact during a lull in activity, when we inquired about the dozen different amaro varieties, the bartenders spent time explaining the history of the herbacious digestif.  They pointed out the various flavors and nuances, based on the Italian region of their origin.  After hearing Mark complain about Cynar, an artichoke flavored amaro stocked in his childhood Italian home, they even poured Mark a small taste and encouraged him to try it as an adult.  Surprisingly tasty, they shared simple recipes with us, mentioning that while they serve fancy, classic cocktails at work that can include up to a dozen ingredients, when they are home, they typically lean towards easier concoctions, like a high-end sweet vermouth on the rocks or amaro and dry cucumber soda.

Americano

While I know I will miss the zealously made drinks, as usual, I am reminded that it was the people who clearly made the experience. The guys next to us who turned us onto the Food Truck Awards in Centennial park, the yoga instructor who texted us about a free class the next day, the adorable, witty couple and their parents whom reminded us of dear friends back home, and of course authentically charming Jeremiah and the other bartenders, all bring me shamelessly close to quoting the Cheers theme song.  To save you, I will simply leave you one thought - happy hour at the HHB&R is perhaps the best kept secret on this planet, but please do not go, as I would hate to not have a seat the next time I visit.

Low Country Love at Husk: Charleston, South Carolina

It wouldn't be right to visit Charleston, South Carolina without feasting at one of Chef Sean Brock's acclaimed eateries. Set in a restored colonial house in the downtown historic district, Husk's facade exudes southern grace and deceptively houses an elegantly modern interior.

We arrived early to patronize the adjacent, renovated barn-cum-bar, serving custom twists on the classics as well as modern innovations. We scored a comfortable couch in the upstairs lounge and, in no time at all, selected our poisons. Clearly we had to order the cocktail called "Everything but the Goat". Made with Gordon's gin, strawberry gastrique, arugula and pecan bitters, this pretty drink was a summer salad in a glass. Any shred of refinery flew out the window when we caved to the irresistible need to awkwardly retrieve the strawberries and spicy arugula from the glass. Tart and strong, the "Copperhead", consisted of Rittenhouse rye, absinthe, wormwood bitters and fresh lemon juice. Served in a recycled wine bottle glass, the drink felt good in my hands where it lingered as a slow sipping pleasure.

After lounging over our cocktails, we strolled next door for our next sensory adventure. Chef Brock is known for developing strong relationships with local farmers and fishmongers, as evidenced by his daily changing menu. The eye-candy winner of the night was the Alabama blue crab salad. Big meaty lumps of crab were mixed with sweet red peppers and mint and served over a tangy cotton candy pink, strawberry buttermilk sauce. While eating this masterpiece, and clearly feeling excitable from my earlier cocktail, I found myself getting heady and deep at the mere joy of living on a planet where nature provides such astounding delicacies as crab and the edible, intricate and beautiful nasturtiums that garnished the salad.

The trend of adding an egg to burgers, sandwiches and soups, is one I hope is here to stay. In the deeply colorful English pea soup, a softly poached farm egg added silky texture, while the Virginia guanciale ham provided a salty chew. Hints of Meyer lemon brightened the many layers of flavor and lastly, the soup was topped with shredded, house-made sheep milk manchego and a dollop of creme fraiche. While the soup included classic southern ingredients such as pork, egg and cheese, this light, silky interpretation is a perfect example of what so many across the country are loving about fresh, modern, southern cuisine.

We continued our guttural praises with the main course. Two generous fillets of mild, South Carolina Rudderfish were served over sweet peas and charred turnips, with a Meyer lemon herbed broth. This dish was clean and earthy, everything tasting as if it had been picked fresh from the farm or sea that morning.

North Carolina Guinea hen terrine is not a dish you see everyday on menus. Dark meat was ground, seasoned and wrapped in the white meat, pressed for hours until set and served warm with roasted baby carrots, spring onions and rainbow chard over a rich mushroom broth, in a beautiful wooden bowl. Classic meets modern in this dish; think Sean Brock sporting his colorful and rebellious tattooed arm sleeves communing with Julia Child, clad in her apron and sensible shoes. 

Our server irresistibly sold the deserts, not that lemon pie in a jar took much arm twisting. Pretty as a picture, the small mason jar was layered with a sweet and tart Meyer lemon curd, thick, espresso ganache, some sort of a cookie crust and topped with a marshmallow meringue. The garnish of edible parsley flowers added to the cute factor and was yet another disparate flavor that completely worked.

Husk is just one of the many reasons we look forward to returning to Charleston. We fell in love with the city, and fortunately there is so much more we need to explore, like the famed beautiful beaches, historic forts, and sister city, Savannah. Rest assured I am already planning a return trip to the low country...the pull is undeniable.

Folly Beach, SC: Bowens Island Oysters

I am an unabashed oyster floozy. Raw, fried, grilled, served in stew, Rockefeller, po' boy, oyster dressing...I am crazy about all preparations and my only complaint is that I am usually left wanting more. A dozen raw oysters are simply a tease. Admittedly,  I planned my latest vacation to the Charleston area after hearing from friend and food documentarian, Joe York, about an all-you-can-eat oyster shack on Folly Beach just outside Charleston. In some rare, fortuitous instance of karma, we visited Bowens Island Restaurant, situated out on a stunning marsh coastline, on what we would soon learn was the very last day of oyster season.

Piles of empty oyster shells line the parking lot next to the rustic fish camp on stilts. After securing a scenic table on the deck, we joined the line at the no-frills bar, to order our catch. Barely hiding my enthusiasm, I ordered the all-you-can eat oyster plate, only to have my dreams dashed. It was then that I was informed it was the last day of oyster season and because of that, they were only offering single servings. In a disgruntled daze, I was handed a well loved dish towel and knife and told to take a ticket downstairs to the oyster guy. 

Downstairs meant descending to ground level, below the shack, where, in an odd corner of the open basement, I found the oyster dude. Reminding me of a San Francisco bike courier with his gruff, yet hipster vibe, he took my number, before dumping a huge bag of oysters onto a metal table to wash and select for the steamer cage. He yelled "four and a half minutes" over his shoulder, in my direction, before walking away to check his iPhone. Weirdly, despite the grim location and the coarse service, or perhaps because of it, my spirits were rising rapidly.  Moments later a heaping bushel of oysters were dumped onto a cafeteria tray and I was sent, elated, on my way.


After navigating two flights of steps, with my hands occupied by the heavily laden tray and a sundress blowing suggestively in the strong sea breeze, the real fun began. No side dishes or accouterments were necessary.  When easily pried open, these oysters, bathed plumply in briny sea water, proved naked is better. Similar to raw, but with a little more texture, these steamed oysters were juicy and tender. Fresh off the boat, the clusters included large, meaty shells, baby seedlings, and all sizes in between, sometimes eight or more per cluster, many of which were camouflaged by the rocky exteriors, adding a scavenger hunt feel to the process. Two hours later, fingers shrivelled from the sea water and a few minor shell scrapes, despite the towel, I finished the last mollusk, completely satiated.

Others may look forward to SEC football or the World Series, but for me, I will take two hours of wrestling oysters, any day.  Thank heavens I didn't order the bottomless tray, although I am not saying I won't in the future!

Charleston, SC: Two Boroughs Larder

It took mere minutes to fall in love with the city of Charleston, South Carolina. The colonial houses, stone streets, scenic bay, bird-filled marshes all tugged at my heart strings, as they were reminiscent of my childhood on the New England coast. Coupled with the nostalgia were all things southern that make me incredibly happy: palm trees, moss draped gardens, southern hospitality, boutiques filled with colorful, classy attire, soulful southern chefs, and a dewy humidity that is strangely addictive.


In typical fashion, our vacation rituals in this charming city quickly evolved into long walks, prohibition era cocktails and scintillatingly good food. After a day spent sleuthing and photographing the city, it was exciting to dress up and start the night in the cool vibe of The Gin Joint, where the motto was, "Drink Proper. Speak Easy." Sultry booths, funky lighting and cabinets made of urban chain link, set the tone for classic Americana libations.

The smoked maple old fashioned, made with bonded rye whiskey and black walnut bitters, served with one crystal clear sphere of ice, was sexy looking, smooth, and smoky on the pallet. The hint of black walnut bitters added what reminded me of a pecan pie undertone and a spicy bouquet on the nose. While the old fashioned oozed of 1950's seduction and made you want to settle deeper into the booth, the Jalisco Pharmacy was fresh and exciting, almost encouraging you to call all of your friends for a deck party. Tequila mixed with lemon, ginger, honey and mezcal, created a nuanced and refreshing drink, that will no doubt become a summer classic.

The Gin Joint

Since I mentioned rituals, I will confess that we started a second night at The Gin Joint, that time trying the Tequila old fashioned and a bartender's choice. The old fashioned was made with smoky anejo tequila, agave nectar, and grapefruit bitters, which was a delightfully light version of the more traditional whiskey recipe. The bartender's choice included rye whiskey, averno amero (a spirit based herbal digestive), and angostura bitters. It was deep and spicy, served elegantly straight-up in an old fashioned champagne glass.

Pickled Shrimp

Fortunately the bartender poured generously and therefore after one drink, we pried ourselves out of the place where we now considered ourselves vacation regulars, and took to the streets for a walk across town to our new favorite dinner spot, Two Boroughs Larder. Located on the outskirts of The College of Charleston, tucked into a little nondescript side street, the restaurant has a comfortableness about it that makes you feel like you could eat there every night, and yet it still remains a treat. Bare-bulb chandeliers, an open kitchen, pantry shelving, and a farm-to-table, daily-changing menu, all lend a European, neighborhood air that is completely hip, while not trying hard at all.

Ravenous after a long walk, we wasted no time ordering the pickled shrimp salad as a starter. Served in an unassuming jelly jar, it was one of the most flavorful, fresh dishes I have ever consumed; cold, lightly pickled shrimp were layered generously with, chick peas, cippolini onions, fennel, and colorful baby sorrel sprouts all smothered in a tangy dressing making for a crunchy forkful and a fight for the last bite.

Lamb Belly

Brussels Sprouts

Bordeaux was served in a juice glass and arrived as a perfect accompaniment to the cumin scented lamb belly. Juicy chocolate cherry tomatoes, pine nuts and salty roasted cerignola olives, balanced the rich and tender lamb. Next arrived the crispy veal sweetbreads, glazed with a caper, shallot and chili sauce and tossed with roasted cauliflower, they possessed the perfect chewy, satisfying texture. The side of chili and lime Brussels sprouts were roasted to caramelized perfection. Equally satisfying was the dish of sweet roasted beets, dusted lightly with grated ricotta salata cheese.

For dessert we could not resist the rice pudding. Served warm, topped with crunchy oats, it was loose, barely sweet, a little al dente and seemed completely made to order just for us.

Daily Salad

So enthralled were we with this local haunt, that the next night, when we were craving a more casual dinner, we found ourselves drawn back to Two Boroughs, despite the seemingly infinite number of options in this food rich city. This time we started with the daily salad, consisting of chilled, crisp yellow wax beans, Italian flat beans, parsley, paper thin slices of baby radish and creamy buffalo mozzarella all tossed in a champagne vinaigrette with agrumato olive oil. Made with quality ingredients, this dish proves that simple is often better.

Butcher's Sandwich

Crispy New Potatoes

The butcher's sandwich was the perfect cross between an Italian sub and a Vietnamese bahn mi, as it included salami toscana, prosciutto, pecorino cheese and nduja, a homemade spreadable salami, with pickled carrots, radish and herbs, all on a baguette. The side of crispy new potatoes with shredded brisket and shallot confit, were outlandishly divine and a salacious treat next to the healthier chili braised kale with white anchovies.

Bowl-O-Noodle

Finally, the dish that without question won the "best of the vacation week," and at a bargain price, was the bowl-o-noodle. Shredded, crispy Keegan Filion pork, a soft boiled farm egg, spicy and crunchy kimchi, sesame greens, and pickled wild mushrooms, nestled on noodles in a comforting pork broth. The egg, when split open, infused the broth with yolk making a thick, rich texture that coated the tongue.  Each bite was different from the last, the flavors layering and the textures dancing.

While we should have ended on that note of nirvana, I am glad we pushed through to experience the chocolate budino. A rich chocolate cold pot de creme type base was covered in chopped pistachios, sea salt and smothered in a layer of olive oil. The rather plain look of the dish belied the brilliant flavor and texture; sweet and salt played off one another while the pistachios crunched and the olive oil coated everything on the palette giving it a feeling of elegance. This dish is everything you love about chocolate covered pretzels, but dressed up in a ball gown. Mercy!

There was not near enough time to explore all that Charleston has to offer. While I eagerly look forward to future trips to the city and new rituals, I will work on perfecting my version of the Jalisco Pharmacy back at home this summer.

The Story Behind the Dish: Flyte, Nashville, TN

I am a sucker for a story, and I realized on a recent trip to Nashville that knowing the story behind my food seemed to make it more special.  Mark and I returned to an old favorite, a local, independently owned restaurant in the 8th Avenue South neighborhood, called Flyte.  I once read that after three or four bites of the same flavor, our taste buds tire and no longer appreciate nuances.  Flyte is the perfect antidote to this conundrum as they serve many of their dishes and wines in small tastings of three, called flights, a concept that originated in wine tasting where it allowed one to compare wines side-by-side, more objectively. Their wine list is extensive and brilliantly categorizes the wine by old and new vine with detailed descriptions like, "crushed ripe black cherry and blackberry fruit, evolving into bittersweet chocolate on the finish. Full bodied and chewy."   

After ordering, we received a lushious carrot custard as an amuse bouche from the chef, Matthew Lackey.  The thick, rich custard was served in bite size rectangles and had a deep, sweet carrot flavor that awakened our senses for the plates yet to come. 

As it was a quiet night, Chef Lackey visited our table to chat.  I recognize that all chefs don't want to be celebrities, but as a patron I cannot help but feel more connected to my food when the chef makes an appearance on the floor, and this was the first of many visits throughout the night from this twenty-five year old, enthusiastic chef, sporting wild hipster hair and an effervescent personality.  He shared his inspiration behind our first appetizer.   On his drive from Charleston, South Carolina where he learned his trade under the tutelege of reknown James Beard winning Chef Sean Brock, to Nashville for his first executive chef opportunity at Flyte, he realized he was in the region of a local dairy, whose products he adored.  He stopped a passing tractor, asking for directions to the dairy, only to find out the driver was the dairy farmer himself.  Typical of a small town story set in the south, the farmer invited him to dine on his front porch, where he served fresh cream and cheeses with beets from the garden.  As Chef Lackey left the farm to drive west, he thought about the flavors he just enjoyed and how he might combine them with his Charleston roots.  It was then that his peekytoe crab appetizer was born.  Tender crab tasting lightly of the sea, was served on a bed of golden sliced beets, with baby pea shoots, and topped with burrata cheese.  The homemade burrata, which is a fresh mozzarella filled with cream, added a luxuriousness to the crisp flavors of the vegetables and the brininess of the crab.


  

Our next appetizer was a beautiful marinated pork belly, served over turnips that were cut into paper thin noodles, all resting in a Benton's bacon kombu broth, with rapinito and oyster mushrooms.  The pork was sumptuous, the turnips crunchy and the broth amazingly light, yet flavorful.    

Seeing as we were at Flyte we had to try the soup and salad flights.  The carrot ginger soup was sweet and creamy, the anasazi bean was savory, salty and warming, and lastly, the one that rocked my world, the beautiful flavor of roasted turnip was brought out in a silky, cheesy, bowl-licking third soup.  The salad flight inlcuded an arugula salad with goat chevre, candied hazelnuts and a light, perfectly salted walnut oil dressing.  Next was a red beet salad, which showcased the crisp, sweet vegetable along with pears, arugula and a sherry vinaigrette. Finally there was a malt salad served with apples, spring greens, feta and toasted pecans.  


As a main dish, the Spanish turbo, cooked immaculately, was meaty and light in flavor, served over celeriac, baby carrots, and cippolini onions.  The celeriac, a personal favorite, was divine.  It had enough texture, yet melted in your mouth with that deep celery root flavor.  The confit Sonoma duck leg, was falling off the bone over brussel sprouts, braised cabbage and a tangy mustard sauce.  


Clearly there was no chance of dessert after the afore described spread, however when our server brought the check along with hommade caramels, there was no stopping me.  What should have been a simple little treat, was actually quite exquisite. Chewy, and buttery, the sweetness was offset by a hint of salt, leaving me wanting a whole box of caramels!  
Upon reflection, I realized that our dinner was much more of an event, than a meal.  From the smallest dishes like the carrot custard and the caramel to the peekie toe crab, pork belly and duck, everything was executed exactingly.  The star of the show, was Chef Lackey who took joy in explaining the inspiration for his dishes, talking about the sourcing for his products, including the relationships he had developed with local farmers, and even sharing his plans for a new city garden at the restaurant.  His passion is contagious, and evident in every dish served. 

The Patterson House, Nashville, TN: Cocktail Divinity

Spring fever hit me hard this year. Unseasonably warm temperatures and an eerie quiet at work, due to spring break, had me itching for excitement.  An especially interesting episode of American Pickers, highlighting their new store, sealed the deal - it was time for a road trip to Nashville. The drive north was everything you romanticize spring to be, the hills swathed in color from the southern red buds, with their bright, almost fluorescent fuschia limbs, green fields dotted with cattle, and the occasional tractor holding up traffic. We planned our trip so that we would arrive in Nashville in time for a pre-dinner cocktail at The Patterson House. On a previous trip, I attempted imbibe there, but ignorantly arrived after dinner on a Saturday only to learn the wait was over two hours. Fool me once, shame on me...  This time, I took a lesson from my parents and arrived at the nondescript, sign-less, corner building, at the early bird hour of 6:30 PM where along with other seasoned patrons, we had a choice of bar or booth. Upon entering we were greeted and whisked through lush velvet curtains to a chandelier lit, majestic room.  This is the stuff of which fairytale dates are made. Romantic booths lined the walls.  An old school, rich dark wooden bar filled the center of the room, and one wall at the back was lined with library shelves of books. At least 5 bartenders moved gracefully behind the bar, confidently managing their stations of liquors, tincture bottles of homemade bitters, and bowls and bowls of fresh fruit, all ready for the onslaught of the evening.

The cocktail menu was broken up by categories - whiskey, vodka, tequila, gin, etc. and each category offered approximately six signature cocktails. Being a whiskey girl, I opted for their signature Manhattan. Our bartender, dressed in a hip, vest and tie, clearly took pride in his work as any artist does. He measured the liquor out precisely starting with Jim Beam rye whiskey. He added Carpano Antica (sweet herbal vermouth), Corsair Spiced Rum and eye droplets of homemade angostura bitters.  He stirred and tested the drink while adjusting the flavors. Finally, when he had it just right, and only after chilling with more ice, did he stir with a flourish. Poured into an antique champagne glass with a sidecar, he spritzed the drink with a citrus peel and then garnished it with a dark, intensely flavored, sweet cherry. Smooth, deep flavors of whiskey with hints of aromatic bitters and light lasting flavor of vanilla, filled my mouth. Instantly I was transported to a fictional era, a time that was elegant, decadent and a little dangerous.

Mark ordered a perfect spring drink:  tres agaves reposado, lime, green chartreuse (a liquor that is traditionally comprised of 130 herbal extracts), house falernum (a syrup used in cocktails to imbue flavors of almond, ginger and/or cloves, and lime, and sometimes vanilla or allspice) with a single ice sphere and orange peel. Served in an old fashioned glass, atop a perfectly round, gigantic ice cube, the sweet and tangy concoction was reminiscent of a margarita, but in a rich and sophisticated way. Citrus flavors gently played against the tequila; herbal notes from the chartreuse and falernum cut the flavors and added a layer of intricacy and depth, which showcased the mastery of our artistic bartender and the house-made mixers.

While the Patterson House is known for its cocktails, we found the warmed olives to be meaty and satisfying, ever so slightly hinting of an herb infused oil.

I hated to leave the cocoon of date paradise, but our dinner reservation crept upon us. I parted the velvet curtains and returned to the beautiful spring evening, with the elated and even giddy confidence, that I had discovered cocktail divinity.

Restaurant Iris, Memphis, TN

I am a fan of eating in the bar.  Perhaps this draw stems from my high school and college years spent waiting tables, where the bar was the staff’s social epicenter of the restaurant or maybe it was my early career years in sales where eating alone at a bar was a way to feel less alone. Regardless of the origin, one of my favorite bar tables is at Restaurant Iris in Memphis, Tennessee.  Set in a house in midtown, the bar at Iris is a cozy nook off the entrance, encased in plush floor-to-ceiling curtains, bathed in alabaster candles, where you can watch everyone come and go, while enjoying the full menu and top-notch service.  I would probably also love a table at Iris, but seeing as you have to book weeks in advance, I will leave that to all those who actually plan in life. 


Dinner and a show in the city - what girl would say no?  While I was very excited to see the world's most renown jazz organist, Joey DeFrancesco at the Germantown Performing Arts Center, the deal was sweetened further by a promise of dinner at my favorite restaurant in Memphis, whose chef this very night was off winning an award cooking up heritage pork raised by my friend Brad at Ole Thyme Farms in Oxford.  

At Restaurant Iris on this rainy night, I fine-tuned a theory that will require countless hours of research to ensure validity -- that is, I hypothesize that restaurants that offer Sazeracs on their cocktail menus are more likely to serve memorably decadent food.  The Sazerac, a classic New Orleans cocktail made at Iris with pernod, bitters, rye, simple syrup, and lemon twist, was served in a wine glass on the rocks and hit all the right herbal notes with a sweet, yet strong finish.  The Pimms cup cocktail, a historic drink hailing from London, featuring Pimms No. 1, a gin based liqueur, laced with herbs, and mixed with lemon, spritz, and cucumber, while great on this dreary night, has most certainly secured a spot at the top of my summer cocktail list. With our drinks, we were treated to an amuse-bouche, and although it was not much larger than a quarter, the chopped green apple, goat cheese, pecan and honey-drizzled crostini, packed huge flavor in one bite.  This is one of those dishes that seems so simple that I make all sorts of promises to myself to try to recreate it at home for for friends.

While I grew up in a food loving family that valued dining out, the restaurants we patronized were of the all-you-can-eat crab leg or twin lobster variety, not French cuisine.  I adore both, and by no means am I complaining about great seafood, but I keenly remember my first foie gras, at Farallon in San Francisco.  Like most “firsts”, this little slice of livered heaven changed my life and palette forever.  Iris’ version was seared to perfection with a salty, caramelized crust, encasing a silky, rich interior, with a roasted sweet shallot with an herbed oil.  Like a child, I must have cut my piece into a dozen miniscule bites, but in this case it was to savor every last morsel.  


Not one to shy away from an unusual dish, I could not help but resist one of the new winter dishes for its pure schizophrenic appeal; the veal schnitzel was topped with a farm fresh sunny side-up egg and fresh anchovies, on a bed of knöpfle tossed with oregano and capers. 

 As if that was not sensory pleasure enough, the entire dish was served over a boysenberry glaze.  The briny flavor of the anchovies counter-balanced the buttery veal and the runny egg yolk for a wonderfully salty bite, that when dipped in the sweet boysenberry sauce, made your taste buds jump.  The flavorful knöpfle, a Hungarian style noodle with a chewy dumpling texture, completed the dish.   

The braised American kobe short rib, was served over a roasted winter vegetable fregula, a pasta similar to an Israeli couscous.  This meal was most certainly the antidote to a drizzly winter night; the rich braised texture of the beef was deeply satisfying and frankly there are not too many things in life that make me happier than a perfect baby carrot, smaller than my pinkie finger, with the miniature greens still attached.  

Farm cheddar with sea salt and honey immediately sold us on the cheese plate for dessert.  Creamy and salty, the cheddar was perfect on its own and also wonderful when paired with the tomato marmalade.  The Manchego coupled nicely with the rich caramelized onion marmalade and the fresh gouda was mild and clean, completely unlike the more popular aged or smoked versions.  Being a cheese purist, I didn’t try the crostini that came with the dish until the end, which was a blessing, as the toasts glean what I am calling their “crack essence” from being flash fried, creating a crispy crunch with a very satisfying chew.  Deep fried bread…might make me as happy as baby carrots....