St. Louis Eats and Drinks With Joe and Ann Pollack

Starnes Barbecue, Paducah

 

No ribs. No chicken. And immaculate. This is a barbecue spot? You bet, honey. In a cinder block building painted what once was called wintergreen, we found lunch in Paducah, KY.

A couple of booths, a big U-shaped counter and plenty of regulars mark the interior of Starnes. On the wall, a spaghetti-board menu keeps it simple.

Beef

Pork

Ham

Turkey

Bologna.

Sandwiches or bulk. Bottled sauce. Potato salad. Slaw.

Of course, that ignores the shelves in the center of the U, piled high with bags of potato chips, neatly stacked candy bars, and (oh, wait for it) Hostess snack cakes.

But that’s fine. Those sandwiches make it all worthwhile. No one any closer to St. Louis than The Pig in Fredericktown does them the way Starnes does, the white bread sharply brought to life in a grill press.

No mutton, alas, a disappointment in Kentucky. But the chopped pork or beef tucked inside each neat, individually wrapped sandwich, is moist and tasty, although we both think the pork superior. The surprise, though, is the bologna. Wafer-thin slices crumpled onto the bread show clear and delicious evidence of having been smoked.

"Sauce?" was the waitress’ query when we ordered. Well, yes, and each sandwich came lightly sprinkled with the thin, red, fairly hot sauce. (We added more.) The amount of meat on the bread may look inadequate to some St. Louis diners, but there is enough, with good, smoky, well-cooked flavor and an excellent meat-to-bread ratio.

The heat didn’t seem to deter a couple of very elderly regulars whose orders arrived -- including milk for one -- without them doing anything more than greeting the employees, and we realized this also scored as barbecue for the dentally impaired. Hooray for that!

Like most of the regulars, they received a casually tossed bag of potato chips for a side. We’d suggest the potato salad, yellow and slightly sweet with just a light hit of celery seed. When it comes to beverages, this is RC country, what we once knew as Royal Crown Cola. We skipped dessert, but one booth had a Twix bar and Hostess cupcakes.

Paducah comes around lunch time when you’re driving south from St. Louis. If you’re on I-24, exit at U.S. 60, Hinkleville Road, going east (towards the city). Hinkleville intersects with Joe Clifton Drive, across from a park, after about 2.5 miles. The restaurant is in the first block, on the left.

Starnes Barbecue

1008 Joe Clifton Drive, Paducah KY

270-444-9555

Tues.-Sat. 8 a.m.-6 p.m.

Credit cards: Yes

Wheelchair access: Difficult

Smoking: Yes

Sandwiches: $3-$4

Pancakes at The Scottish Arms

Off to brunch at The Scottish Arms last week - and please note it’s served both Saturday and Sunday now - and a chance to have one of the more unusual breakfast dishes around town. While the bacon and egg sandwich is pretty darn tasty, we were smitten with the oatmeal pancakes.

   

At least that’s what the menu says. What arrives is a single, large pancake cut in thirds, made in a pan that’s probably eight inches across. Made with seriously Scottish oats, and thus nicely, pleasantly nubbly when the eater pays close attention to the texture, it’s not a float-off-the-plate pancake, but really something substantial, and with slightly crispy edges. It’s served with maple syrup, but for an extra charge, the fruit compote du jour is also available. We’ve had mixed results with the compote. Once, it was pretty much like blueberry pie filling, not very exciting; on a second visit, the server described it as mixed berries. That one arrived unthickened and full of juicy berries, with raspberry leading the way. Much better, thank you. Still, the maple syrup is just fine on this notable bit of morning food.

The Scottish Arms

6-8 S. Sarah St.

314-535-0551

www.thescottisharms.com

Brunch Sat. 11 a.m.-2 p.m. & Sun. 10 a.m.-2 p.m.

Credit cards: Yes

Wheelchair access: Fair

Smoking: Yes

The Good Pie

We have long said that the two things we don’t argue with people about are barbecue and pizza. But we do get a bit impatient with folks who insist that there is only one _____ (choose your adjective: good, proper, real, or insert your own favorite) kind of those things. That said, we do urge St. Louisans to try a pie that’s waaaay different from the usual styles found around town. Do not expect square pieces and provel cheese, keep your mind open, and you will find new and delicious thrills.

The Good Pie, in a dark-from-the-outside storefront on Olive Street just east of Compton, hasn’t been open long, only about six or seven weeks. One of the employees was getting some orientation on the espresso machine on our visit. (Pizza and espresso? Does that make your heart beat faster even before you taste the coffee?) It’s very casual, as befits a pizza place, with its brick walls and wood-framed blackboard. But on the blackboard, you may read about a pizza with black Umbrian truffles. Don’t do truffles? Press on.

Mike Randolph is going for real Neapolitan-style pizza, like you’d find (with luck) in Italy, and to that end, he’s brought in a snazzy pizza oven that zaps the pies at 1000 degrees Fahrenheit. He’s also paid good attention to ingredients and his offerings beyond the pizzas. The results are apparent.

There are plenty of things to tide diners over before pizzas arrive, or even make a noshing-style meal of. Roasted mushroom chunks are tossed with taleggio cheese, re-warmed just until it melts oozily, the juices and just a slight hit of balsamic vinegar waiting to be finished off with a piece of the hot-from-that-oven flatbread that comes at the same time. We used a little more of the tasty bread to wipe up the last bit, too, of a white anchovy and roasted pepper salad. The anchovies are marinated in a lemony base, and if you’re hesitant about anchovies, these are a great introduction. The flavor sparkles in the mouth, helped along with a few leaves of baby arugula and a dressing laced with a little pesto. It’s a delight. There are plenty of simpler options, too, various cheeses and salumi, either singly or in a combo, and a couple of salads including a caesar, available with the options of those anchovies.

The pizzas themselves are 12" in diameter, available in some simple options, again in the style of Naples. We tried two, the house signature called "The Good Pie", and a puttanesca. The crust is remarkable. Quite thin, but not crispy, it has a little chew to it, but it’s cooked so quickly that the outer crust is still so tender, it’s like eating a freshly-baked roll. The heat blackens bits here and there, adding another layer of flavor. The Good Pie tops it with a simple tomato sauce, pieces of buffalo mozzarella, a few grape tomatoes and a few leaves of basil, some of which crisp up, too. Everything is in remarkable balance: The basil doesn’t (surprisingly) overwhelm, the mozzarella is soft and subtle, the sauce itself satisfying enough to keep the mind from wandering and the small tomatoes giving a quick burst of moisture and acidity.

 
The puttanesca, named for the pasta sauce that originated, according to legend, with Naples’ ladies of the evening, wore the same tomato sauce, with the addition of some larger-than-average capers, good black olives (yes, pitted) and the fab anchovies.  The tart-salty notes were the theme here, bouncing off each other nicely but not overwhelming the sauce.

The dessert list is short, some gelato, a cake, affogato, which is a shot of espresso over a scoop of ice cream, and bombolini. Often described as "Italian doughnuts", bombolini are probably closer to New Orleans-style beignets. But Randolph adds grated orange peel and, we think, some vanilla to the dough before pieces of it are deep-fried to order and served with oodles of powdered sugar over them, absolutely charming, even if you’re dressed in black from head to toe.

Short, all-Italian wine list, much of which is available by the glass in tumblers, in the style of a very casual Italian trattoria, or in half-bottle carafes.

The Good Pie

3137 Olive

314-289-9391

www.thegoodpie.com

Smoking: No

Entrees: $8-$13 

Lunch & Dinner Mon.-Sat.

Credit cards: Yes

Wheelchair access: Yes

This Week's Wine January 18, 2009

  Italian-American winemakers and grape growers, using the skills they learned in the old country, were pioneers in the California wine industry. The families, and the wines, go back through the 20th Century. Martini, Mondavi, Sebastiani, Parducci, Foppiano, Gallo and others were names to conjure with. In the early 1960s, when the Napa Valley was just beginning to awaken from the fallow decades caused by Prohibition, the Depression and World War II, I remember driving a quiet country road, Highway 29, from Napa to St. Helena. On the east side of the highway, a big, red barn marked the Louis M. Martini winery. Wine that was both good and inexpensive was available to taste and to buy, usually at about $2 a bottle.

Some three decades later, as a novice wine writer still making the transition from a life in sports, fleeing from the Super Bowl and its concomitant week-long overdose of pro sports and hype, I landed in San Francisco on a Monday morning, drove north again. The Napa Valley was chilly and foggy, with rain dripping from low-hanging clouds. Once again, I stopped at the big red barn, walked into an empty tasting room, was greeted by an elderly man who was drying wine glasses, evidence of a busy Sunday.

We chatted, he offered a glass of recently bottled Cabernet Sauvignon. I introduced myself. "Louis Martini," he replied, though it was easy to guess who he was. We chatted, toured the winery, drove to St. Helena for lunch. It was a most pleasant day, conversation lubricated by superior wines of several vintages and vineyards, all different, all delicious.

Last week, almost three decades since that visit, I was talking with Mike Martini, son of Louis P., grandson of Louis M., who built the big red barn and founded the winery in 1933, secure in the knowledge that Prohibition was over. Louis P. became the winemaker in 1954, Michael in 1977. Three men. Three generations. Seventy-five years.

We talked about the old days, the $2 wine. He laughed, reminisced, "I remember the conversations and the discussions about going to $2.50, and then Heitz took the giant step and shocked everybody when he went to $3.50."

The Martini family always has specialized in bold red wines from Cabernet Sauvignon grapes. They make some delicious Zinfandel, too, from vines that date to the early days of the winery, and they dabble in Chardonnay to give wine drinkers who swing that way a chance to taste some wine while they wait for the real drinkers in their party. But Cabernet Sauvignon is the Martini wine of choice, and I had recently tasted some from Northern California’s two major wine counties, Napa and Sonoma. Napa lies to the east. But winemakers are experimental people, and they like to dabble in the dirt, trying this grape or that cross in a search for the ultimate. Martini admitted that they experiment with some of the Italian grapes like Barbera and Sangiovese.

The 2005 Napa Valley Cab is a year older, a little more expensive ($25-$18) at the retail level. There’s a lot of vanilla in the aroma, at least when the bottle is first opened, and dark berry flavors are immediate on the palate. The wine has a lot of backbone, a strong structure and splendid acid-alcohol balance, with a long, smooth finish. The wine is 94 percent Cabernet Sauvignon, 4 percent petit sirah and small splashes of Merlot, Cabernet Franc and Petite Verdot to bring it to the winemaker’s taste. I often wonder how much less than a single percent of a given grape can add, but if the winemaker says it’s necessary, and if the result is excellent, who am I to quibble?

The Sonoma County offering is brighter and fresher, with a lot of blackberry, a lesser amount of blueberry on the palate, which still shows evidence of tannin. That’s part of its youth, more balance will come with another year or two of age, and it will be rounder and darker than its counterpart. The wine is 90 percent Cab, with 4 percent each of Malbec and Cabernet Franc, 1 percent each of Merlot and Tannat. Again, a strong, smooth finish.

Martini also likes the blackberry in the Sonoma-grown grapes, noting that the area has warmer nights than Napa, bringing additional softness to the wine. The ‘06 crop produced a great deal of lush, black fruit. Its juice was in contact with the skins for seven days, after the crush, bringing a darker color and more tannin, and it then spent a year in small oak barrels, adding the soft qualities Martini likes and which identify the family wines.

The Napa crop was picked at 18 brix (a measurement of the sugar content of the juice when the grape is picked), and Martini pointed out the cherry qualities in the wine.

Martini has been in the wine business since he was a small boy, working in the vineyards, and like so many California winemakers, he’s an alum of the University of California at Davis, where he earned a degree in fermentation science. After graduation, he toured the Burgundy and Bordeaux wine areas in France, often in the company of the legendary California wine genius, Andre Tchelistcheff. Cabernet Sauvignon is the primary red grape in Bordeaux.

Looking ahead, Martini sees the 2008 vintage as "vibrant."

"We had a frost problem, and then a heat problem," he explained, "and we lost much of the crop. What remained, however, was superb. It’s almost as if Mother Nature thinned the vines herself."

-Joe

Tei Too

The opening of a new year on the calendar also means the opening of the second half of the local theater season. That brings trips to Webster Groves for many of us, and the opportunity for a pre-theater dinner at a restaurant that’s been in our sights for a while. Tei Too is an offshoot of Nippon Tei, the sushi/pan-Asian spot in Ballwin. But this is a much more casual storefront where orders are taken at the counter, and then brought to your table. There’s a slight hint at the atmosphere of student life. And food arrives promptly. We arrived at 6 p.m. on a recent Friday and were finished in less than an hour. But the crowd grew, and pre-theater diners who arrived closer to 7 probably had to hustle to make an 8-o’clock curtain.

Lacquer-red walls give the first hint that Tei Too might not be the same old thing. And the menu raises the pulse even more, with choices from Vietnamese-style pho to Japanese yaki soba noodles and an Asian steak-and-cabbage salad.

Dumplings are hard to resist in any Asian restaurant. These pot-sticker-style fellows, smaller than the St. Louis norm but in greater numbers, had a thin skin only slightly resistant to the tooth, and a juicy, meaty filling laced with ginger. The tart-salty sauce, mainly soy and vinegar as far as we could tell, seemed more lively than average, and the tasty dumplings obviously had been freshly cooked.

Tei Too proclaims satay and noodles as the house specialties, and since we believe that a restaurant should lead with its specialty, we started with the chicken satay. In our experience, it’s made with white meat of chicken, cut so thinly it always dries out on its skewer. Tai Too’s meat has been marinated a little so there is seasoning beyond salt and pepper. Our primary reason to order it, however, is to eat the sauce, that peanutty, curry-esque delight. The house version is laced with coconut milk and small chunks of peanut, good enough to eat with a spoon if the diet can take it.

Mussels were good-sized, lightly cooked and still juicy, sauced with plenty of fresh red and green sweet peppers, some green onions and a little carrot, all in a tangy soy-ginger glaze; rice came alongside to mix in or take straight. The broth was excellent by itself. But the really exciting entree was the Burmese noodles. Noodles rode in a creamy curry broth of marvelous flavor. Slightly sweet from what we think was galangal, a root sometimes used in Southeast Asian food, and overall slightly hot-spicy, it was slurp after delicious slurp with an occasional pause for a bite of a tart cabbage, some half-moons of raw red onions and a handful of crispy, curly fried wonton-like noodles that topped it off, as well as some overcooked. It was an exciting dish, like nothing we’ve had around town, thanks to thatcurry sauce the color of moonlight.

 

A meager selection of beer and wine is available, but the menu shows no desserts. On this block, however, there are at least two other spots that specialize in them, so the sweet tooth can avoid a sulk. No reservations, either, so get there early if a curtain awaits. And there are a number of six-top tables; on some nights, sharing may be necessary.

A worthy stop.

Tei Too

8158 Big Bend Blvd., Webster Groves

314-961-8889

Lunch & Dinner Mon.-Sat.

Credit cards: Yes

Wheelchair access: Yes

Smoking: No

Entrees: $7-$15

Boiling Fish at LuLu

Every once in a while, we find something particularly swell that we just have to share. The other night we were having dinner with The Old China Hand and Mrs. Hand at LuLu’s. And we came across a new-to-us dish that is absolutely killer, flavorful and spicy, crunchy and soft. The menu calls it Szechwan Style Boiling Fish with Vegetables, which may be correct, but is certainly less than accurate to our way of thinking.

Begin with a bowl, large enough to serve several. Brilliant red-orange liquid surrounds pieces of mild white fish and chunks of napa cabbage, all topped with chopped garlic, ginger and green onion. Not really a fish soup, with more solids than liquid, but the broth means it’s definitely not a stew. Gorgeous, and seductive enough that we forgot to whip out the camera. Quite spicy, but the occasional hit of the sweet ginger and the napa cabbage balance things nicely. Delicious, and leftovers are easily heated for a meal the next day.

LuLu

8224 Olive Blvd, University City

314-997-3108

Lunch & Dinner daily

Credit cards: All major

Wheelchair access: Poor

Smoking: No

Triumph Grill

Just west of the Midtown intersection where Olive Street makes a northwest jog, leaving Lindell Boulevard to carry on westward to Forest Park, the Triumph Grill sits on the east side of Grand Center, not an unreasonable stroll from the Grand Boulevard entertainment venues. The Kranzberg Center, the Fox and Jazz at the Bistro are easy walks, and when the weather turns more clement, Powell Hall, the Sheldon and the Grandel are only another block. Easily visible from Lindell with a jazzy electric sign that fits in with the others that mark the area, the Triumph seems to be pulling clientele that’s more than just the pre-performance people.

Although it is named for a brand of motorcycle, and attached to the Moto Museum, the restaurant doesn’t let the theme overwhelm. And don’t get the idea this is a museum café. This is definitely a full-service restaurant, though the bike-loving owner displays his feelings, and writes about them, too, on the back pages of the menu. There one finds the clues to what’s what, including menu items named after race sites and the fact that the hanging sculpture in the first, quieter, dining area, is actually made of cycle wheel hubs and spokes. In the same room, a long, framed piece is an assemblage of speedometers, with a few tachometers thrown in. (Check the one from a Honda that looks like a thermostat.) In the bar, a fireplace crackles and posters dot the walls. Smokers stay in that area, and for those concerned, the bar is at the far end of the house, so it isn’t necessary to pass through it on the way to a table.

Two visits gave a certain amount of contrast. We were more than happy with the service, and the first courses worked very well. The main courses bounced us around like a wrestler at the Chase.

Mushroom lovers will be very happy with the mushroom and leek soup, rich and creamy with a full-bodied flavor that sneaks up on the unwary. And the tandoori chicken melt, like a fat quesadilla, was a winner, the pickled red onion rings giving a little crunch, and bits of mango bouncing around in the mouth. Chewy but not tough, scented with cumin, it worked well. And the onion rings. Wow! This is a large serving, ten immense rings, neatly arranged to allow for air flow to help them stay dry. Well drained, extremely crunchy from a shower of panko crumbs, and darn close to perfect, they were accompanied by a dish of chipotle aioli, a garlicky mayonnaise, and one of sweeter barbecue-flavored mayo. Both were tasty, but pretty much unnecessary with these terrific rings.

A sandwich labeled "The Daytona" piles up shredded chicken breast in a spicy, wing-like sauce on a brioche bun spread with thick ranch dressing, and tops the whole thing with crumbled blue cheese and a few more of those pickled red onion pieces. This adds up to a knife-and-fork sandwich unless you’re going to eat it in the bathtub, but never mind that. It’s a way-tasty piece of work, definitely for those looking for big flavor. The house-made potato chips are nice, although we’d probably opt out of the seasoning for them, which makes them taste sort of like barbecue chips. Those same flavor-seeking folks will be equally happy with the pork tenderloin. Like many of the entrees, there’s an option for a large or small portion, and hurray for that. We chose the smaller, and got four slices of tender, lean pork with a smoky-sweet sauce that carried some of heat. Equally pleasing is the spicy sweet potato gratin, a serving of paper-thin sweet potatoes layered, seasoned and baked. The seasoning seems to be chipotle, or smoked pepper, but there’s enough other contrast with the pork that there’s no problem, and the result is delicious. Even the roasted vegetables, which were green beans, slices of the smaller Asian eggplants, and zucchini, were notable, and when we find zucchini tasty, that’s a red letter day.

Alas, we couldn’t say the same for the tempura-battered fish and chips, the fish being overcooked and greasy and the french fries, even though they were housemade, subpar and soggy. The Monte Cristo sandwich, a traditional dish which is basically a ham and cheese sandwich that’s French toasted and served with a tart jelly alongside, is a little different at Triumph. The ham is honey-baked, the kitchen adds turkey, spreads currant jelly on the sandwich and trims the crusts before dipping it in egg batter and frying. The result is far too sweet for a dish that’s supposed to be savory with sweet notes added only by the optional jelly, and the loss of texture contrast because of the missing crusts is an added downer. And then there were more of those fries....

All the desserts are mini-sized. Instead of a dessert tray, the server brings a rack of six wine glasses, describes the ingredients and serves one, or many, right from the rack. We’ve tried the pumpkin cheesecake, which suffered only from a too-thick layer of crumbs on top, throwing off the ratio of cheesecake-to-crumbs for the first couple of bites, and a delicious bread pudding studded with dried cranberries and toffee chips. Its texture was darn near perfect except that the top bit of bread had been missed by the custard and was quite dry. The cheesecake itself was cinnamon-y and lush.

The portion- (and budget-) conscious menu also offers two sizes of pours on the 14 wines by the glass, a good variety from Italy, Australia, the U.S. and other sites. We worked from Argentina, with a lush Big Tattoo Red in honor of the father of the importer, a marvelous host on a trip to that wine country some years ago, and a pair from the Elsa Winery, a tasty, French-style unoaked Chardonnay that was crisp and bright, and a Malbec that was velvety and with a charming structure.

In addition, Triumph also brings down prices with a series of weeknight specials on food and wine. With some judicious ordering, this place can be a winner, whether the race is contested by motorcycles or forks.

Triumph Grill

3419 Olive St.

314-446-1801

 www.triumphgrill.com

Lunch Mon.-Sat., Dinner nightly

Credit cards: All major

Wheelchair access: Good

Smoking: Yes

Entrees: $10-$25

Who's Minding The Stove?

Chefs and restaurant critics have a curious, often-symbiotic relationship, like actors and drama critics. They know one another, may or may not like one another, often need one another. With more than 35 years of writing about chefs and restaurants, when we run into one, either in his/her restaurant or somewhere else, we’ll nod and smile and stop to chat. But Joe’s long-standing policy, covering more than a half-century in the business, is not to become close friends with people we write about, nor to write about the people whom we consider our close friends.

We sometimes wonder about performers (on stage, in kitchen, on ball field) and critics, and their relationships, and we got several clues recently after the New York Times’s chief restaurant critic, Frank Bruni, wrote a lengthy Christmas Eve piece about Tom Colicchio and his "Tom: Tuesday Dinner" evenings at his Craft restaurant. We first heard of Colicchio about a decade ago when he was the chef and a partner at Gramercy Tavern, Danny Meyer’s second New York restaurant after the Union Square Café. Bruni wrote of Colicchio’s work on an every-other week chef’s table at Craft. It apparently takes time and influence to be among the small group that sits and watches Colicchio prepare the expensive meal that the group then eats. Bruni also wrote about several other New York chefs (Waldy Malouf at Beacon, Ed Witt at Bloomingdale Road) who do the same sort of event.

We did one of these extravaganzas, in 1996, at Emeril Lagasse’s eponymous restaurant in New Orleans. Joe was there on a writing assignment for the NFL, and part of the piece was a mid-aftenoon interview with Lagasse and dinner at the chef’s table, actually a dining bar that overlooked the kitchen where Lagasse and his staff worked. It was a marvelous meal; anonymity, of course, was impossible, but we’ve never believed that anonymity was ever really possible, or necessary, any more than a theater critic goes to opening night in disguise so the cast won’t know that he or she is in the audience. Silliness.

And if Bruni eats chef-table meals and continues to claim anonymity, he’s either a superb actor or he and his companions go through one of the silly, don’t-ask, don’t-tell routines that we occasionally face.

Bruni liked the meal at Craft, but he was not thrilled, pointing out that "the overall arc of the meal – the rhythm of it – wasn’t exactly right."

A week later, the Dining Section of the Times carried a response from one of St. Louis’s top chefs, Bryan Carr of Pomme, in which Carr took issue with the story. He didn’t complain about the praise for Colicchio, but wondered if the Times and/or Bruni were not carried away with the idea of celebrity. After all, Carr pointed out, he and chefs everywhere cook dinner in their restaurants almost every night. It’s their job, and the fact they are doing it is not worthy of a big news story.

We think Carr is a terrific chef, and he’s a pretty good letter writer, too. Star chefs (Colicchio is big on television, too) are becoming more star than chef, using a title of executive chef to loll on their executive merits and not face the stove. The restaurant became popular and successful because the chef was there cooking every night, and when the chef is off on television or at book-signings, the customer is not getting what he/she is paying for, the work of the No. 1 superior chef.

Restaurateurs know that, too. In our town, one of the reasons that Tony’s has been so popular for so long (more than a half-century now) is because with exceptions you can count on your fingers, there has been a Bommarito in the house every night.

When we visit a restaurant, we try to ascertain whether the chef and/or owner is on hand. If he is not, we feel slighted. And no matter how good the meal is, we wonder how much better it might have been if the No. 1 person had been on duty.